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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

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Perseus Achilles Jackson was the only human aboard the USS Olympus, and he was proud of it. He worked twice as hard as everyone else to get his dumb species into space and his team was very open and proud of him.

But, they weren’t always aware of human customs. This had happened on multiple occasions.

Here are the accounts of the two times Percy’s crewmate boyfriend was so shocked he nearly (or actually) fainted, and the one time he wasn’t.

The first time, they hadn’t been dating. Percy dressed rather conservatively while he was at the academy, not like he would were he on his home island of Kauai. But the first time Percy met a Plutonian was also that Plutonian’s first time meeting a human.

“Human Perseus, hello!” Niccolo DiAngelo was a handsome fellow, Percy noticed on the first meeting. Olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair along with his humanoid shape were all typically attractive looks in Percy’s books, but he also had these huge majestic black wings that Percy ached to touch. That was besides the point.

“Hey, Niccolo DiAngelo, right?” “Just Nico is fine,” the other male smiled as he got closer. Ah! Another species that bared their teeth in friendship… At least Percy hoped that was the case.

“Just Percy is fine too, no human and no Perseus,” Percy smiled back and stuck out his hand. Luckily, Nico was well versed in human gestures and took Percy’s hand for a rather formal handshake.

“I was wondering what the metal fixtures are on your eyebrow. They don’t seem to serve any medical purpose?” Nico asked, still smiling as if to try not to offend Percy with his questions.

“Oh, they don’t! They’re just adornment.”

“They are just… For appearance?” Nico cocked his head and lost his smile. Percy only laughed though.

“Yup! It’s the only piercing I have, but other humans have dozens.”

“How are they applied?”

“With needles, they first poke the hole in the skin and then they apply the jewelry,” Percy demonstrated by pulling at his eyebrow piercing to show off the bar.

He tried not to laugh as Nico’s beautiful olive skin turned more greenish than should be normal.

“I want more but it’s a little expensive to get good quality stuff,” Percy added.

“You paid someone to poke a hole in your face?” Nico practically squeaked.

“I sure did! Wait til you hear about tattoos!” Percy chuckled and left Nico with that thought.

“I need to get off this planet,” Nico choked out.

“Hah!” Percy laughed out loud and patted Nico on his broad shoulder. “Good luck with that buddy. Seeya in class!”

The second time it happened, Nico and Percy were studying for an exam together in Percy’s dorm. It was late and they’d stopped studying a while ago and were asking personal questions to pass the time.

“So you can’t touch another Plutonians wings unless you’re either a family member or a romantic partner?” Percy asked for clarification.

“Yup,” Nico munched on his ramen, something he found he actually enjoyed and could palate.

“Okay, interesting. Now you ask me something,” Percy leaned back against his bed and stretched his legs out.

“You told me about tattoos, and I definitely looked it up,” Nico’s cheeks burned a little greener at the thought. “Do you have any?”

“I do!” Percy beamed. “You might not have noticed because there are so few humans, but I am about three years older than most of the humans here. I did a three year stint in the American military and was sent overseas during wartime. So I have tattoos that commemorate the lives I took, so that they will never be forgotten,” Percy frowned, and Nico didn’t like that.

“Can I see them?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course, but I have to take my shirt off, and I’m going to have to ask you not to fall in love with me,” Percy winked jokingly at the already blushing Plutonian and made a show of taking his shirt off.

“Whoa,” Nico gasped, and reached out before drawing his hand back, knowing it wasn’t customary to touch another person without permission. Percy’s chest and arms were adorned with patterns of waves crashing and flowing. It was simple and beautiful but still ornate. “And how do they administer these again?”

“They have an electric needle that shoots dye into the epidermis-”

“They have what?” Nico choked.

“Is it the electric needle part or the shooting dye into the skin part that’s freaking you out?” Percy raised an eyebrow. He pulled out his phone to show Nico a video of Percy getting his first tattoo and the big strong Plutonian male completely zonked out and fell over on the floor, much to Percy’s amusement.

“Next time I go to get one,” Percy smirked, leaning over Nico’s body as the other male opened his eyes. “You’re coming with.”

Nico only groaned.

The third time, they were two years into a deep space exploration when they were travelling to Earth for shore leave, and Percy came back to their shared cabin with a devilish smile on his face.

“Neeks? You there?” Percy called into the bathroom. Huh, he would just have to wait for his boyfriend to come back. Percy laid spread on their bed and read his book until Nico came back.

“Hello there,” he said in his best Obi Wan impression when said boyfriend walked in, blue shirt neatly pressed with nary a wrinkle in it.

“Perseus,” Nico sighed. “What did you do?”

“What? Why would you sound so… so.... You love me, don’t you?” He countered.

“Of course I love you,” Nico sighed and laid down, burying his head in his boyfriend’s clothed stomach.

“Well I got another piercing.”

Nico groaned.

“Actually two.”

“I’ll never understand you humans,” Nico lifted his head and peered around Percy’s head at his ears. “Where are they then?”

Percy responded by gingerly removing his own shirt and presenting his new nipple piercings to his long time boyfriend. Not sure what to expect, Nico’s blushing green cheeks and ears were not what he expected.

“That is not what I expected,” the taller male commented quietly. “Did it hurt?” He frowned.

“A little, and they’re going to be a little sore until they heal completely. But I love them,” Percy smiled again, proud of his life decisions.

“I… also love them? I think?” Nico sounded confused at his own reaction and Percy laughed.

“I thought you might,” he pulled Nico (gently) on top of him and pulled him into a kiss.

“They’re kinda hot,” Nico murmured into the kiss, still at odds with himself.

“I thought you might think that too.”

“You do know me pretty well.”

“Wait until I tell you about my next piercing: the Prince Albert.”

#percy jackson #nico di angelo #nicercy #percico #humans are space orcs #body modifications #piercings #tattoos #pjo

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northisnotup · 3 years

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Continuation of the amnesiac!Damen fic

"I don't know how to do this."

It’s been a long day. Nik went home hours ago, with the firm instruction to text if he needed anything, both Egeria and Hypermenestra have called to wish him a speedy recovery, the sun is setting...and Laurent shows no sign of moving anytime soon.

He came back at three and has stuck like a burr ever since. Through the blood work, the scans, the neurological tests. Everything. Laurent knows things about Damen’s medical history that Damen doesn’t even know - and not just the things he wouldn’t expect to know, missing almost four years of memories. But things that Damen himself forgot. Like the concussion when he was thirteen from when Kastor pushed him down a flight of stairs. Or the bumpy keloid scar behind his ear from a dirty hit during high school gym class. The way he found out he was allergic to a certain type of sedative by experimenting...also during highschool.

"Do what?" Laurent says, paging through the book in his lap too fast to really be reading it. Damen almost frowns. It's a good book.

He makes himself consider. The spine is cracked, the pages dogeared, it's missing the jacket entirely and there is a stain on the cover which marks this specific book as the one Damen has had for years and years because that stain is mid range scotch from the time in his life that Damen was trying to drink scotch. He thought it would impress his father, but all it really did was give him wicked hangovers and mess up his insides.

According to Nik, corroborated by Jo, Damen’s known Laurent for three years. They met in college. They dated for one year, and have been engaged for another. The wedding is set for next year at Damen's mother's summer home.

So. It's entirely possible that Laurent has read this book before.

That's...weird.

He's had lovers before who knew his favourites. Jokaste would often order for him when they went out just to get him to try something new. But Laurent caresses the worn, scratched cover with gentle fingers. He pauses every few chapters to linger on a page or two before he continues to browse.

Laurent knows Damen's favourite novel well enough to have favourite scenes, and there is no reason why that should steal his breath.

"I didn't like you, this morning," Damen says. He feels like he should be apologizing for it, but it just makes Laurent bite back a smile, finally looking up from the liquid warped pages. He looks rumpled, in leggings and what is probably one of Damen's t-shirts, his hair mussed and finger combed into a bun. He looks exactly like someone Damen would have been happy to take home.

And Damen was going to marry him. Or he is, when he remembers him.

Things are coming back already, a slow trickle of knowledge that appears without strain. Kastor texted him and he remembered the heavy emotional weight of sitting next to him at their father's funeral. Their mother's side by side in front of them, clinging to one another and crying quietly. He can remember the way Kastor grabbed his hand during the eulogy and hadn't let it go until they were following the procession.

“You don’t like me now,” Laurent says lightly, unfolding one of his long legs and poking his bare toes into Damen’s side. He’d kicked off his shoes to contort himself into his current position in the visitor’s chair and looks effortlessly comfortable, though Damen’s not sure how that’s at all possible.

He swipes at Laurent’s leg, hand closing around his ankle and is hit with the sense memory of holding it before. Of pressing his lips to the delicate looking arch of that foot, wet and sudsy and of Laurent swearing at him for it.

“Damen?” all mirth has drained out of Laurent’s face, and the ankle in Damen’s weakening grip flexes and strains. “Damen, let go, I’ll get one of the nurses.”

“Did I call you Achilles? Was that,” Damen blinks, trying to focus his blurred vision. His head hurts, but he’s had a low level headache all day. “Was that seriously the pet name I chose?”

Laurent’s pale skin hides nothing when he blushes. Pink glows out from the high arches of his cheeks and across his nose. The tips of his ears look like miniature suns, rising. “Once,” he rasps, and clears his throat, tugging his ankle out of Damen’s slackened grip and curling himself back into a ball. “You compared me to him, once. Golden warriors both, I think were the words you used.”

“I love the Iliad,” Damen says, helplessly.

“And you don’t even like me,” Laurent returns.

Damen thinks he’s starting to understand Laurent’s sense of humor, as sharp as the rest of him and dry as a desert. But that wasn’t a joke, that wasn’t even an attempt at a joke. “You probably already know I was planning on asking Jo to marry me,” he says. It’s a poor olive branch, but it’s about all he has.

They both woke up this morning and had their hearts broken, so, they have something in common.

“I was your rebound fling,” Laurent surprises him. “You didn’t like me then, either.”

Damen opens his mouth to deny it, and then shuts it without speaking. Laurent would know better than he would, but… he doesn’t sleep with people he doesn’t at least like. Other people can. He tried, once - Kashel broke up with him for being clingy, which, in that case, meant wanting to get dinner before they fooled around.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Laurent drops his eyes back down to the book.

“Maybe I want to talk about this,” Damen says it on impulse, just to be contrary but he’s surprised to find that he means it.

“You shouldn’t be taxing yourself.”

“Laurent -” Damen watches him startle, and to his shame he realizes why. They’ve hardly been apart all day, and it’s the first time Damen’s called his fiance by name. “I asked you to marry me.”

“You did,” Laurent agrees, voice tight.

“And you said yes,” Damen wonders for the first time if Laurent has spent all day wondering when that would be taken back. “help me figure out why.”

“You were kind to me, back then. Kinder than I deserved.”

Maybe he got better about being casual, about feelings - but looking at Laurent in this light, the ring on his finger, the one Damen put there...he doesn’t think so. “Kindness isn’t something you can deserve.”

Laurent stills. Damen hadn’t even registered the jiggling of his knee until it stopped. “I’m going to go get a coffee,” he says, standing suddenly.

“Hey, wait -”

“No,”

“I just -”

“I said no.”

“At least take my wallet,” Damen sighs, gesturing at the small pile of personal effects Laurent had grabbed this morning.

It was only this morning.

Laurent sneers, looking down his nose like he always does when he’s upset. “Why would I need your wallet?”

“Because…” Damen trails off, the trickle of memory becoming a flood, until between one heartbeat and the next, his life goes from greyscale to full colour. There are a million ways he could answer that. ‘Because you always put your debit card in your pants pocket and forget it there if you don’t have time to plan your outfit.’ ‘Because you never carry change and will talk yourself out of using your own money for a coffee, but using my money is fine.’ ‘Because you’re not really getting a coffee anyway, you just need an excuse to step out for a second.’

Looking at Laurent is like finally finding meaning in abstract.

Laurent hates that book. Specifically, he hates the wildly popular movie that was made out of the book which tramples all over the themes and reduces the narrative to a cheap trope that people fight about on the internet. But when Damen is sick, or he’s had a bad day, Laurent will leave the book on his nightstand, along with a cup of strong tea.

He can’t help the softness of his voice, “Because you don’t drink coffee after noon, sweetheart, and if you’re getting a tea, I want one too.”

“What did you call me?”

Damen smiles, lopsided, and pats the side of his cot, which has felt Laurent’s absence since his goodbye that morning. He did too, even if he didn’t know it. “Hi, sweetheart. I missed you.”

#my fic #Captive Prince #lamen

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ask-college-patrochilles · 3 years

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Pat: It's... a long story.

The first thing Pat notices as he comes out of the shower are the voices coming from the kitchen. It isn't exactly strange considering he lived with Achilles and they'd invited Bri over for the night. He and Bri didn't hang out like they used to, with both students caught up in the senior year and post-graduation plans. It had been nice to catch up, to have Pat's two favorite people together with him at the same time.

But the second thing he realizes is how hushed they are. Achilles never mutters, always keen to shout what's on his mind, and Bri certainly doesn't whisper to Pat's boyfriend on the regular.

He knows it's wrong- they're both so important to him, he could just… walk out and ask what's up- but Pat can't help himself. Quickly, he dries off his hair and discards the towel as quietly as possible into the laundry room. There's a wall separating the hallway to his bedroom and the bathroom from the kitchen. Pat presses his back against it and strains to listen.

There's the sound of the coffee machine running, almost loud enough to drown out Bri's question. "I wanted to know how you and Pat are doing," she says, followed by the pouring of coffee into a cup.

Achilles snorts. "I would think you guys have already talked about that." Always defensive, even when he doesn't need to be. It makes Pat's chest ache.

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from you." One of the chairs scrapes against the floor, and Pat assumes Bri takes a seat. "You're your own person. You might see things differently."

Pat isn't sure why, but he holds his breath for his boyfriend's answer. Everything has been… mundane, really. Nothing special. Achilles is like an extension of Pat: they always know what the other is thinking, are always able to finish each other's sentences. More often than not they're together, Achilles leaning against him or holding his hand.

"We're good," Achilles finally replies. "Really good." Pat deflates in relief. "You'd think by now we'd be sick of each other or stepping on each other's toes, but…"

"But?" Bri prods.

"But I still always want to be by his side." Bri makes a sound, probably exasperated. "It's cheesy, yeah, but I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Pat closes his eyes with a small smile. Of course they felt the same- Achilles has his entire heart. He'd know if something was off because it would be like his own heart was breaking. There was nothing to worry about.

He's about to walk around the corner to greet them when Achilles continues. "There's just-" He pauses for a long moment. "Can you keep a secret?"

Silence.

"It's nothing bad," Achilles reassures Bri in a rush. "At least, I don't think so, but I don't really know what to think if I'm being honest. It's all so confusing and terrifying and I-"

"Slow down," Bri cuts in. "Tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help."

Achilles takes a deep breath, something Pat has had to drill into his head to do when he's overwhelmed. Hopefully, he's counting to ten in his head like Pat taught him too. They were still working on it. "I love Pat," Achilles starts again. "A lot."

"Okay."

"More than anything. More than… running or school or whatever. He's the most important person to me." The floor creaks, and Pat can only assume he's pacing around the kitchen. Achilles can never sit still when he's anxious. "I'd do anything for him. I'd… I'd eat a whole raw onion for him or fight off sharks. I'd cut off my leg- although I'd probably ask if we could amputate an arm instead since I still want to be a track star-"

"Achilles."

"Right."

Pat's heart races in his chest. He can't tell where this is going, and he hates not knowing what was on Achilles' mind. They're connected at the hip, so why can't he understand what's wrong?

"I guess I'm trying to say I don't think I could ever be with anyone else- actually, scratch that. I know I couldn't."

Bri's nails drum against the tabletop. Click, click, click. "This is all really sweet, but I don't know why you're telling me."

Achilles inhales loud enough for Pat to hear. "I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

A pause. "Okay."

"I want to marry him, Bri."

Pat's eyes widen, and he's surprised his knees don't give out underneath him.

He's always assumed he and Achilles would always be together. After all, they'd been inseparable from the moment they'd met. Even before they were partners, Pat felt whole with Achilles. Their relationship was one that was bound to last.

He just… never exactly thought about proposing or weddings or any of that. They lived together, didn't they? That was practically marriage to Pat. Splitting rent and divvying up chores wasn't for the weak of heart.

Marriage was big. Marriage meant they would spend the rest of their lives together. There'd be a certificate and everything to say they belonged only to each other. There would be anniversaries and a family and growing old together. Pat can't even fathom it- he couldn't even think about what the next week would be like! He lives his life from exam to exam, shift to shift at the hospital.

Bri seems to be on the same track as Pat. "You're both only in your twenties," she points out.

"I want to propose," Achilles says as if he doesn't hear her. "I know I do."

"Now? What about-"

"I already have a ring." Now Pat definitely wants to collapse. He covers his mouth with both hands so he doesn't gasp out loud. This was all happening very fast. The room seems to spin, and he leans his weight against the wall so he doesn't fall over.

"What?" Bri's chair scrapes against the floor. "How long have you had that?"

"A little while."

"Have you talked about any of this with Pat?" Pat could easily answer that question. His racing heart and clammy palms are as good an answer as any. He's sure Achilles shakes his head since Bri sighs loudly. "Don't you think that's sort of important? You don't just pop a proposal out of nowhere."

"You don't?" Achilles sounds genuinely confused. He probably got his entire idea of marriage from movies and television. His parents certainly didn't seem to be much help.

"You have to talk about the future first. Talk about what you both want." Achilles is quiet. He must be frustrated- he hates waiting, and he hates too much serious talk. Pat knows he prefers to wing it. After all, life seemed to go pretty smoothly for him without any prior planning. "If you guys are on the same page, then- and only then- maybe it's time."

Achilles grunts.

"You guys have all the time in the world," Bri reassures him gently. "Pat's not going anywhere. Trust me on that one."

"I don't want to lose him," Achilles says. It shatters Pat's heart to little pieces. How could he ever think Pat would leave him? They were in this for the long run no matter what. They'd grown together as individuals and as a couple, and Pat knew they still had so much more to learn.

It's what finally draws him from his corner. Pat scrunches his hair with his hands like he just came out of the shower as he walks to the kitchen. Bri sits across from Achilles at the table. As soon as she sees Pat, she kicks his boyfriend in the shin to alert him. Achilles turns, and Pat catches him stuffing something small into his pocket.

"There's coffee made if you want some," Bri says. So they didn't realize he'd been listening. Pat seems to be off the hook for now.

"Maybe later." Pat's too overwhelmed at the moment to be anywhere but with Achilles. He wraps an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and slides into his lap. Achilles gives him a smile and starts to say good morning, but Pat is already kissing him sweetly.

Achilles doesn't kiss back at first. He's too surprised, probably since Pat is never really a functioning human being in the morning before his coffee. But it takes him no time to hold Pat's hips firmly in place and part his lips to welcome Pat's tongue inside. Pat licks into his mouth, tasting maple syrup and sugar and everything Achilles.

Pat loves him. He loves him with his entire being. If Achilles dropped on one knee right now, Pat knows he'd say yes despite any doubts or reservations he might have. Because they'd figure them out together no matter what.

Bri's groaning is what brings Pat back to reality. "Can I please just drink my coffee in peace?" she begs. "One morning where I'm not assaulted by you two? Please?"

Achilles scowls in response. "If you don't like it, don't come over."

"You invited me!"

"Then you should’ve turned down the invite!"

Bri and Achilles bicker about the logistics of sleepovers, but Pat couldn't be happier. He presses his forehead against Achilles' temple and smiles wide. His Achilles, forever.

#i didnt forget i PROMISE

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

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Fated Epilogue

Epilogue

Ares x reader

Word Count: 2041

Summary: Time skip to Zag running around trying to fix everything; then he gets a weird message from Ares.

The affair known to most of the Underworld’s population as The Confusion of Zagreus started as most things in his life did, on a run through the place as he tested the defenses against an escaping entity for what felt like the thousandth time. He’d had Ares’ vial with him, so naturally he’d gotten a fair few of the war god’s boons. Nothing too unusual, right? That’s what he thought right up until Ares said the most curious thing.

“When next you see Thanatos, tell him that his sister wants him to visit more.”

Sister? Zagreus wondered. Than doesn’t speak to his . . . Wait, Nemesis . . . But why would Lord Ares have messages from her?

When he mentioned it to his lover, Thanatos just chuckled. “I suppose it has been a while since I last saw her,” was all he had to say on the matter.

And that set the trend that continued for a while. He’d get a message from Ares to Than, pass it on, and get some cryptic non-answer in return. It was absolutely maddening. Even when he asked others, all they had to say was that it wasn’t any of his business, which was fair, but that didn’t aid his curiosity.

Finally, all that started changing when he managed to squeeze a drop of information out of Than when he asked, “So why does Ares see your sister more than you?” while they were dining together one evening.

And without really thinking, Death Incarnate reflexively replied, “Because she lives with him in Thrace instead of here.” Of course, immediately after that, Thanatos realized what he’d just admitted and promptly clammed up, but it was something at least.

Then Demeter let slip something else in one of her messages after he’d accepted several of Ares’ boons yet again. “Ares is aiding you when you get injured, is he? I’d be surprised if Nemesis didn’t have a hand in that sort of attack.”

And that set him thinking. Revenge was her area of expertise, after all. And many of Ares’ such boons were noticeably more powerful in dealing direct damage instead of causing various other effects. Could Than’s sister have been indirectly aiding him through Ares all this time?

Then came another piece of knowledge, this one from his mother upon inquiring why Thanatos and Lord Ares seemed to be so close.

“Well War and Death were always bound to meet frequently just from their natures, I suppose, but it could also have been because of that mess where he saved poor Thanatos from being chained in a box. I’d wager that was a big help to making their friendship grow.” Before he could ask just what that was about, she continued, “Though it could have also started back when Lord Ares almost passed away, too. I remember Thanatos being quite concerned for both him and Nemesis during all that.”

“What do you mean Lord Ares almost died? He’s an Olympian!”

“He is, but the day Hermes found him was a day that stoked fear in the heart of every Olympian,” Persephone said gravely. “They all worried about Ares’ fate despite how they regularly ridicule the man, because if he could die that meant any of them could.”

Zagreus suddenly found his mouth extremely dry and couldn’t form a response.

“Yes, that was definitely the start of their friendship now that I think on it. It was very kind of Thanatos to linger without threatening the poor dears. From what I heard, he was very calm during the whole affair even in the face of such shocking news.”

“Yes, I suppose learning even the great Olympians might die would be quite dramatic,” he murmured, shoulders sagging.

“No, that’s not--ah! You don’t know, do you?”

He perked back up. “Know what, Mother?” he prompted innocently.

She smiled kindly as she patted his forearm. “It’s not my place to tell you if they haven’t already; I’d forgotten how much they value their privacy when they can get it.”

Who is ‘they’? Zagreus wanted to scream while yanking his hair out. Thanatos and his sister? Her and Ares? Thanatos and Ares?? But he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled stiffly and nodded.

It wasn’t until he managed to broker a peace between the Chthonic gods and the Olympians that he finally got answers.

There was a party you were supposed to be preparing for, but you were having a hard time working up the gumption to move from your current position. Because of said celebration, you and your husband--how you’d never tire of calling him that--had arranged your schedules so that they aligned, which of course was the reason you found yourself lying in bed perpendicular to the man, using one arm as a pillow under your head on his chest while the other hand played with his hair.

His gleaming red eyes flicked over to the open, brightly illuminated window where sheer white curtains swayed softly in the breeze. “We really should be dressing; I have a feeling your brother-in-law wants to meet us sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, but it’s so rare that we get time like this to ourselves.”

His hand found the one you’d been carding through his hair and brought it to his lips to kiss. “You and I have an eternity full of moments like this ahead of us; we can spare an evening for the boy.”

You huffed dramatically. “Let it never be said that you’re not a man of your word.” A sigh left your lips, but still you pried yourself out of bed without further complaint. “Are we doing full regalia or casual?” When there was no answer, you glanced back to see that he was transfixed by the sight of your naked form heading towards the shared closet. “Ares!” you laughed, snapping his attention back to reality.

“Darling, I take it all back; you must come back to bed at once. There’s a rather pressing matter that needs your attention at once.”

Now, you rolled your eyes. “Well that pressing matter can wait until we return. Are we doing armor or not?”

From there, there were a lot of kisses, gropes, and laughter between that moment and being fully clothed--in light leather greaves and cloth chitons rather than the usual full armor, after all, Ares so hated to be unprotected or unarmed--but neither of you were really complaining.

“Boys!” Ares called down the hallway with you tucked under his arm.

Two heads of wild silver hair just like their father’s appeared from the same doorway. “Yes, Father?” they chorused.

“We’re leaving. I trust you can manage things until our return?”

“Of course, Father.” And then they were gone from sight, their snickering still echoing in their absence.

Ares chuckled as he shook his head. “Little terrors, the both of them.”

Though they weren’t yours, you’d grown to love both of the twins the moment you met them. With Aphrodite being so absent in their lives, you’d taken up the role of ‘mother figure’ quickly, and the two were practically your own by now. “Well, to be fair, one of them is Panic.”

You were unsurprised at the Olympian turnout at the party; most arrived near the time when you did, but none stayed particularly long. As fond as they were of Zagreus in theory, their detest of the Underworld would always be greater. Only Ares and Demeter attended from the mountain and stayed past the pleasantries and feast. Otherwise, it was entirely the subjects of the House of Hades that were present. Fortunately, they seemed to be enjoying themselves nonetheless judging from the way Meg and Dusa had quickly roped you and Ares into conversation.

Zagreus hadn’t seemed to notice your arrival yet--too wrapped up in getting to know his mother and grandmother, you assumed--but you caught sight of Hades glaring at Ares every now and then. Every time you caught him, the harsh threat he’d delivered to Ares rang through your ears once more.

“Set foot outside this house, boy, and you shall find yourself in a fate worse than death.” Neither of you were surprised by the warning. He was, after all, still angry about the whole ‘bursting into the Underworld without permission to save Thanatos’ fiasco.

Eventually, you and Ares found yourselves alone for a moment once Achilles and Patroclus excused themselves. You tugged the glass from his fingers to steal a sip of his ambrosia, something that’d been quite hard to find the last time you’d visited. You didn’t want a full glass, and Ares never complained about sharing.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, clearly worried about you partaking in a drink you’d never really managed to develop a taste for. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly. The drinking coupled with the knowledge of how much you hated being dragged to these things had likely set him on edge.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a genuine smile. “These are my family, remember? Much nicer to be around than yours.”

“That’s quite true,” he murmured. No doubt, he was remembering when he and Aphrodite had been paraded around and humiliated as the entertainment at one of his family’s gatherings. His gaze flickered up as he noticed something before you did: Zagreus approaching at last. “And there’s the man of the hour!” he greeted warmly. It was hard to mistake the boy for any other given his attire was his family’s colors and the way he absolutely looked like a mix of his parents.

“Lord Ares!” Zag’s face was alight with happiness. “I’m glad you were able to make it; it’s an honor to meet you properly.” His eyes shifted to you. “You must be Than’s lovely sister I’ve heard very little about.”

You laughed lightly. You like this kid already. “I suppose that’s me, yes.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed I haven’t seen you around the House before now,” he probed curiously.

You decided to indulge him; it was a celebration in his honor after all. “I pop by to visit Mother and Hypnos from time to time, but I see Than enough that lingering isn’t worth it. I’ve gathered that you’re usually gone from the House as much as he is.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he chuckled. “Makes sense you wouldn’t just lurk around when you put it like that.”

“Have to budget that precious time off somehow.””

“Plus, it’s sort of my fault that she resides in Thrace since I stole her all those years ago,” Ares teased.

“Stole her, sir?” Oh, how the poor boy looked so confused at those words. You were willing to bet his mind was just running back over Persephone’s situation and comparing it to yours.

Your brows furrowed. “Zag, has no one told you about Ares and I?”

“No!” his voice was laughing but had a manic edge to it. “Everyone keeps hinting at there being something going on with you two, but no one wants to clue me in! I’ve tried to respect your privacy by not asking directly, but it’s driving me crazy!”

“Oh, for Father’s sake.” Ares rolled his eyes. “I’m going to have a word with your brother about this,” he announced as he started pulling away from you.

“Wait! You’re not mad at Than are you?” Zagreus fretted. “Because I’d hate to cause strife between you because of my own curiosity, and--”

“Relax, Zag,” you soothed.

“Thanatos is the only being I would ever call my friend outside of her,” he gestured toward you. “I thought it went without saying that he didn’t have to keep secrets from you for my benefit, but apparently that isn’t the case. I’m simply going to tell him that. I’ll be right back, my darling.” With a kiss to your temple, he stalked over to where Than was loitering with his sleeping brother at the edge of the room.

When you looked back at Zagreus, he was staring at you absolutely slack-jawed, probably at Ares’ display of affection. “Blood and darkness, my Lady,” he managed to wheeze, “what is going on?”

You snorted a little, amused slightly by his turmoil. “Zagreus, Ares is my Fated. He’s my husband.”

His eyes went a little crossed as he realized it was just that simple. “Oh, is that all?!”

#ares x reader #ares imagine #ares hades imagine #ares hades x reader #reader insert #nemesis!au #hades imagine #hades game imagine #hades supergiant imagine

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whatsthedistancebetweenus · 3 years

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“post tenebras lux”

angst; jungkook x reader

“Do you still love me?” Jungkook asked you, eyes red, lips slightly trembling.

“I never stopped.” you smile as tears continue to wet your cheeks. Hands reaching to caress Jungkook’s cheeks for maybe the last time. His hands clasped yours, tears starting to flow as well.

“Hey now, don’t cry. You have a recording tomorrow.” you let out a forced laugh, wiping his tears with the edge of your sweater.

“I’m sorry.. I never meant it to be like this..” he cried out the words as he put his head down on your chest, now sobbing uncontrollably.

“Mmhm, I know,” you wrapped your hands around the younger man, stroking his back.

-----

You two met not more than a year ago at a mutual friend’s birthday party.

The chemistry was off the roof from the moment you were introduced to the maknae of the international sensation group.

He didn’t asked your contact info that night and so you two would often make plans with your mutual friends just to get the chance to meet each other until he was sure you were also into him, and he finally asked you out. Not to an official date or whatever, just to a stroll around the neighbourhood.

Approaching to your short return to (your country), he panicked and actually blurted out how he felt about you in a restaurant with Jimin and Hoseok present. The latter two, you, and even Jungkook himself, froze in place. Reading the mood, Jimin broke the ice and dragged Hoseok to what he said was a toilet emergency.

You and Jungkook were staring at each other for a short while until laugh bursted out of the both of you. You approached the younger man and gave him a small peck on the cheek before he hugged you oh-so-dearly.

You returned to your country for a short while and were back in Seoul. Life was going great for the both of you. BTS is still reigning on almost all music charts, and your business was also exploding. Your relationship was also ever-so-smooth.

You were his and he was yours.

Or at least that’s what the both of you thought.

7 months later, summer approached and you two were out on your usual date night routine. You two’d go to Hangang at night, and Jungkook wore a face mask for disguise just to be safe. He’d sat on the stairs facing the river while you’d go to the convenience store for snacks and join him later on.

Around half an hour later, the two of you were laughing while eating your popsicles. He was getting sweaty from all the laughter so he had rolled his sleeves up. His handphone would suddenly buzz nonstop but he had ignored it. It was your first date in 2 weeks because of your schedules and at times like this he would practically ignore anything other than you. That is until your phone would follow suit. The buzzing just wouldn’t stop and you took it out of your bag just to check in case of emergency.

You scanned your phone for a while before it stunned you in place.

“Jungkook, open your phone.” your eyes were still glued to your phone, and you had this weird expression that Jungkook had never seen before.

He whipped out his phone just to be welcomed by practically hundreds notifications from his friends, groupmates, and agency.

You two just sat there, dumbfounded, staring at your phones. You ignored the drippings from the popsicle you held.

“Just what..” Jungkook mumbled.

What the two of you didn’t know was a few eagle eyed fans had noticed Jungkook from his tattoos and snapped a whole tons of photos secretly.

Jungkook looked up, looked around the park, matching the angle of where the photo were taken and caught the few teenagers with their phones directed at you two, rose up and practically dragged you to his car “C’mon, we’ve got to go”.

Twitter blew up.

Gossip blogs blew up.

The internet blew up.

For the past week all you could hear was people prying into the matter. Your information were spread wide across the internet by people you didn’t even know. You’d receive countless insults and whatnots through DMs. Your name ranked first in Naver for days. You came to your showroom one day just to be greeted by your front window spray painted in foul languages you couldn’t really process.

Jungkook was worried sick about you, and he filed a police report to help you ease your mind. He couldn’t care less for himself at this point, but you were his Achilles heels, his soft spot.

Of course, a small portion of his fans were supportive of your relationship, but your head was filled with the other side’s words.

It got to the point that you were followed to your apartment one night by some drunk fans of his who tried to assault you. Thankfully you had gotten out of the situation without any problems, credits to your friends that were planning to stay over that day arriving just in time.

Hell broke loose when Jungkook knew about the matter.

He wanted to publicly scold the “fans”, but Namjoon told him that it wasn’t the right move. Yet.

So he had you move in to his apartment for the time being and told you to not look at the internet for the time being.

He thought he’d gotten you safe until one night he came back to the apartment with the 95z line dropping by. Jungkook opened the front door and was about to call out your name until he noticed little drops of liquid on the floor. His brows knitted in furrow and he squatted down to inspect the drops.

“Jungkook-ah?” Jimin asked warily at the sight.

The moment he realized it was blood, he sprinted and followed the trail. He found you on the bathroom with ripped sleeve, arms bleeding. You were leaning weakly to the wall. The bathroom floor and sink were half dyed with your blood. He stopped in his track, loss for words. You met his gaze through the reflection in the mirror. You turned around to face him, and a soft whimper came out from your mouth, tears running down uncontrollably.

“They knocked on your door, I thought they were your acquaintances or something and I...” you tried your best to explain inbetween sobs.

His heart broke.

He cried and held you carefully.

“Oh fuck!” Taehyung cursed when he caught up to Jungkook, horrified with the sight before him.

Jimin came up behind him and were fuelled with anger and worry the moment his eyes were set on you. “Taehyung-ah, call for ambulance.” Jimin said in a low voice. Taehyung nodded and fumbled for his phone.

“Jungkook, I’ll go to the apartment security. Y/n, you’re going to be all right, okay?” Jimin patted Jungkook’s slumped figure and ran outside the apartment to get help.

Your sobbing filled the bathroom.

“I’m really sorry” Jungkook managed to talk in between sobs, his hands caressing your face.

-----

Jungkook’s apartment became filled with more people as the night deepens.

Living in the same neighborhood, Namjoon and Hoseok came in as soon as they heard the news, beating the ambulance by a few minutes.

Namjoon was horrified by the sight of your bloody appearance. His hands covered his mouth in frustration. Hoseok ran to Jimin to catch up on the situation.

Medical worker arrived to get you to the hospital but you refused, still a crying mess, tired. Jungkook was practically drenched in your blood when Namjoon approached him, telling him to take a breather. His eyes were trembling, hands wouldn’t let go of you, so Namjoon had to drag him across the room to calm him down.

Exhausted, Jungkook slowly sat down on his bar chair and scanned the hectic apartment from the corner. You were bleeding in pain, being comforted by Jimin and Hoseok. Medical worker were doing emergency patch up to prevent more blood lose. Taeyung and their manager were talking to the apartment security and a few police officers.

“What have I done to her, hyung?” Jungkook started to sob once again.

// to be continued to part 2 if u guys are interested //

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts angst #jungkook drabble #bts drabble

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

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From my wandering mind (trying not to debate on who to Grail next, Skadi or Berserker Musashi/Shii-chan), I couldn't help but think about hugs with some of the Servants in my Chaldea.

Each Servant hugs a little differently, but when it comes to Vy and her posse of Heroic Spirits, they all have their distinct impressions.

Saber Alter is a bit awkward with hugs. She just doesn't do them, Servant or not. But when Vy's in a bad spot, she ends up placing a hand on top of Vy's head for pats. It just works out that way. Burgers aren't included, but Vy ends up finding one near her lunch tray later anyways. Alter seems to be aware of extra-tired days, which says a lot considering how many enemies Excalibur Morgan shut down back in the day.

Chevalier D'eon hugs like a comfy yet prickly burr of some kind, keeping Vy close with one arm around her waist while a hand stays close to her rapier. D'eon is still a Knight even in peacetime, and she can't let her new Lord get into trouble. She still remembers that one giant ghost from the beginning of their journey, and how much pain it caused Vy from just defeating the darn thing.

Medea hugs like a distant aunt that just reunited with you after some time away, eager for more affection without saying anything. Considering Vy almost always is smothered by the Caster, it's become a thing. Sometimes, Vy gets glimpses of a tall, dark man with glasses in her dreams and lets Medea hug harder. It's the least she can do.

Diarmuid barely initiates hugs on his own, most likely from his past with Fionn and Grainne. Vy often has to tug on his shirt hems instead to ask for permission, and he acts like a gentle tree when she eventually hugs him. He never pushes her away, but the hugs don't last long unless he feels up for extending the contact after a particularly tough battle. His mole has caused him plenty of trouble already, having a Master that's not affected in the slightest while letting him achieve his dream of being a loyal Knight is all that he's ever asked for. Letting her hug him every now and then is okay. Not all the time, though.

Archer EMIYA acts more like an unmoving rock compared to Diarmuid's tree stance sometimes, barely flinching when Vy wraps her arms around his waist from behind but not really reacting to her touch either. It takes Vy asking him, "Hug back?" that he eventually turns around and humors her, but his embrace is always hesitant while still being tight enough to remind Vy that he's been scarred in his journey to be a Hero. That physical contact for the sake of contact is something foreign to him. Vy tries not to think about what he's seen as a Counter Guardian, merely whispering, "Thankie, Shirou," into his shoulder every single time she hugs him, because it's the least she can do for the first Gold Archer who ever answered her call for help. She might not be able to do everything for him, but goddammit, she's gonna do her best so that he can rest too.

Marie Antoinette hugs like a sister would, giddy and giggling the entire time Vy comes close. She encourages the hugs the most out of the first group of Servants who answered Vy's call, eagerly taking them on even when Vy's shy about asking. Arms around Vy's back, squeezing warmly, and a cheek brushing the top of Vy's head. It makes for a cute image, and hey. Giving love is the least she can do. No one gets away scot free with calling Vy's body "dirty" from all the wounds she's been dealt. Vy has a heart big enough to even accept the darkest parts of Marie that she's seen of herself, after all. The least Marie can do in return is indulge a girl who really should've met some better people growing up.

Miyamoto Musashi, even as a Berserker, happily accepts Vy's hugs. It's partially because Vy's cute when tugging on Musashi's sleeve to ask, but it's also because without her sword, it's easy to get lonely when traveling the world. Being stuck in a swimsuit is the smallest price to pay when it means Vy can cuddle up to Musashi like she hasn't seen the swordswoman in years. It's nice having someone close by, and permanently too. Plus, as much as Vy says it's okay, Musashi still feels bad about eating udon out of a Grail to the point of causing a Singularity. Sure, it wasn't as bad as BB's apparent stunt last year, but it's egged Musashi on some. Not helped by Vy's occasional little mumble of, "Don't leave again, Shii-chan," into Musashi's chest after some simulator fights in that flaming castle tower.

Scathach-Skadi didn't know what to make of hugs at first. Even with her world gone and then later having traversed a lookalike of it with Vy, she's still a Divine Spirit. The last god after Ragnarok. Her hands have been cold for who knows how long. Yet Vy still chooses to lean against her side every now and then, arm faintly winding around Skadi's waist for that extra bit of warmth, and Skadi's gotten better at ignoring the urge to leave for ice cream. Novum Chaldea may be hot sometimes from the lack of working temperature control to Skadi's liking, but a little one's presence makes things tolerable. Skadi doesn't want to think about the world she lost, about the children she was made to leave behind from answering Vy's call back when Da Vinci was much larger in size and presence, but when remembering the Lostbelt she fought that other self in, she'd take Vy's hand any day, even if it burned. She made too many mistakes in her old world. Never again.

Ereshkigal hugs Vy timidly, almost like a bear trying to be aware of her strength in front of a cub. So many things could go wrong in Ereshkigal's point of view, but to Vy, it's just another friend who deserves hugs. Cold hands be damned, hugs make everyone feel warm and Eresh deserves nice things in Vy's brain. Ereshkigal fumbles even to this day, tongue-tied over formal language and plain sputtering, but the blush on her face makes it obvious she doesn't mind. No one really hugged her while she was still head of the Underworld, and now that Vy is with her for who knows how long, she's gonna cherish her little grape.

Achilles hugs like an over-excited big brother wanting to see his newly born sibling, eagerly catching Vy in his arms before she could even touch him to lift her up in the air. He's laughing the entire time in contrast to Vy's surprised squealing, but he can't help but twirl her around and watch the squeals change into surprised giggling. Catching her back into his chest once she gets dizzy is fun too, because he's the tallest out of the Grailed Servant group and can thus hide her away when some too-curious-for-their-own-good staff are glancing their way. Achilles can't help himself. Vy's laughter is cute and sounds more like the aspiring young woman she was supposed to be. At least in his arms, she could be Vy and not just Humanity's last Master.

Arturia hugs like that of a cat, coming to Vy's side when she feels it necessary. Even after being the Saber-class Servant in two Holy Grail Wars over, physical affection isn't her strongest suit. She admitted as much when Vy first asked her for permission to initiate a hug. Still, Arturia's gotten used to Vy gently asking for it, obliging almost every single time. Hugs are a bit too firm sometimes, but it's not to the point of EMIYA's rock. Arturia's still learning. Plus, Arturia can't help but see the similarities between Vy and her past self, and the last thing Arturia wants is Vy having a bad ending like how she did.

Robin Hood, unsurprisingly, ends up being the main person Vy ends up following for hugs, acting like a human-ish vine. Maybe it's the green clothes and the lack of smoke on him these days. Still, even if Robin doesn't respond to Vy's hugs immediately, it's almost always guaranteed that he's gonna wrap his arms around her eventually. With the way he hugs her back, it sometimes looks like he cradles her, using No Face May King to hide her away from the world while pressing his lips to her hair. Vy doesn't mind, often snuggling him via pressing her forehead into his shoulder and contentedly slumping against him in return. It helps that he's her first Hero and still is, even if he didn't answer her call at first. It took two months for him to show up during the Incineration of Humanity. Still, when Vy hugs him sometimes, she later dreams of hikes with her dad. The scent of the forest is strong with him, and Vy dearly hopes Robin gets as much comfort out of the gesture as she does. Thankfully, there's nothing to worry about. He hasn't stopped calling her "little sparrow", after all.

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katierosefun · 3 years

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well, even though literally no one asked, am i going to do a whole analysis on how the red album is also lowkey about tcw? sure. sh, let me indulge 12/13 year old me.

state of grace:

our wonderful opening track. the lyrics “just twin fire signs / four blue eyes”—from this line alone, i think a lot about anakin and ahsoka and obi-wan, just because what color are their eyes? blue. check and mate.

but on a more serious level: “and i never saw you coming / and i’ll never be the same” speaks to how each of these characters’ lives were interrupted by the presence of the other. obi-wan certainly didn’t expect anakin to come into his life, and i doubted anakin ever expected ahsoka to come into his life.

“love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right” and “these are the hands of fate / you’re my Achilles heel” speaks to how this whole theme of love and how both raw and burning and ruthless love can shine in this specific universe. specifically anakin’s kind of love. additionally, the idea of Achilles heel...i’ve already discussed the parallels between Achilles and anakin and don’t feel like rehashing, but it’s def. worth noting.

“this is the golden age of something good and right and real”...golden age. the war was messy and terrible and shouldn’t have ever happened, but also, i think for that brief moment, disaster lineage was at least together.

red

look me in the eye and lie to me about how this song doesn’t sum up the exhilarating rush that must have been being around someone like anakin skywalker.

“losing him was blue like i’ve ever known / missing him was dark grey all alone / forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met / but loving him was red”: this entire refrain is about that kind of ruthless, very fiery-seeing-red-everywhere kind of sensation that comes with love. (or, as the song alludes, a kind of dangerous love.)

and if we’re talking about dangerous kind of love—“fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword and realizing there’s no right answer / regretting him was like wishing you never found out love could be that strong”...thinking thoughts about how there must have been all these times for the people around anakin to clash heads. bro. what even is that.

“remembering him comes in flashbacks, in echoes / told myself it’s time now, gotta let go”. ha ha. you ever think about the people who live after order 66 and wonder what the hell happened to the person they loved. ha.

treacherous

alright, time to put on the anidala hat. this song is supposed to be all about loving someone and constantly feeling like you’re sliding down a slippery slope. a treacherous path—a reckless path—and yet, and yet, “i like it”.

the whole concept of these two being put in a whirlwind romance matches perfectly with these lyrics: “i can’t decide if it’s a choice / getting swept away / i hear the sound of my own voice / asking you to stay”. this mess of a relationship that probably shouldn’t have happened, but it happened, and now the only choice for these two is to hold on...bro.

i knew you were trouble.

ohhhh god, do i need to explain how this is an anidala song or—

“i was in your sights / you got me alone / you found me”,,,the fact that anakin skywalker really looked at padmé amidala after ten years and automatically went “i love her”. a part of me will always sigh and want to pat anakin’s head that please, please, please control yourself, but what am i supposed to do anyways—

but also, the way this song also addresses all the dangerous things that come with a love that probably shouldn’t have started / shouldn’t have been born with so many secrets. the damning / basically self-loathing lyrics like “the joke is on me” and “shame on me now” is honestly kind of sad, and while i don’t think padmé ever regretted loving anakin (and i’ve covered this so many times, but i think anakin and padmé genuinely loved each other), there was def. a sense of constant danger and fear that one day, all the secrets will come tumbling out / something’s going to happen. and all that ultimately bubbles over in revenge of the sith, right when padmé looks at anakin and just doesn’t see him anymore.

all too well

tbh, this song deserves a whole long post on its own, but i’ll try to be concise. i genuinely think this could be about any of the tcw characters / tcw pairings, but because it’s my post and my obsession, i’ll discuss the disaster lineage. there’s something so quietly sad about the line “but you still got [my scarf] in your drawer, even now” and how that speaks to how obi-wan has anakin’s lightsaber / how anakin has ahsoka’s lightsaber both as himself and as ahsoka after ahsoka left the order / after order 66. the fact that you still have a piece of someone you love(d), long after they’re gone...

the fact that this song is so full of memories and longing and aching and grief over a loved relationship. thinking about the lyrics “you tell me about your past, thinking your future was me” is especially sad because while i don’t think anakin was ever completely open about his childhood / past, i like to think he must have told some stories to obi-wan and padmé and ahsoka about happier moments—and you have to wonder what kind of future anakin saw for himself with his loved ones.

“maybe this thing was a masterpiece until you tore it all up” speaks to how for a rare, rare moment, we see anakin skywalker as the hero we’re all supposed to like—and we see how it all crumbles apart so fast.

“but you keep my old scarf from that very first week / because it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me” hits especially hard when you think about how vader still has ahsoka’s lightsabers, or the fact that everything goes “back to when i loved you so / back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known”...thinking. a lot about anakin and how the love he felt / received from his friends were real, realer than anything that palpacreep could ever give him. it was all real, and now they’re all memories.

okay, this is just a fun song so i can’t really apply it anywhere, but i like to think there must have been a birthday somewhere along the line / some kind of happy event where there’s some chaotic tcw fam shenanigans. ditching the whole scene and “end[ing] up dreaming instead of sleeping”...i like to think they must have had some kind of happy moment like that.

i almost do

this song honestly reminds me the most of anakin and ahsoka. do you ever think that ahsoka might have wanted to reach out to anakin at some point? how “it takes everything in me not to call you”—how she might wish that she could talk to him again but every time she doesn’t, she almost does. (and ha. this makes their S7 reunion even more painful.)

the whole “i bet you think i either moved on or hate you” and “i bet it never ever occurred to you that i can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye” speaks mostly to that very same reunion. the fact that ahsoka and anakin leave so many things unsaid—the fact that ahsoka restrains herself, cites that reason for the fact that they’ll just catch up another time...when that another time never happens.

we are never ever getting back together

hahaa, i can’t quite laugh about this but also i can because i kinda made a crack edit of disaster lineage + this song over the summer, and it really is just a joke but also...lol vader + ahsoka + obi-wan, but more specifically ahsoka and vader in their reunion in rebels lol. they’re never getting back together, geddit? they “used to think [they] were forever” and “[sigh] he calls me up again and is like i still love you and like,,,this is exhausting, you know?” yeah, me too sis. 🙄

stay stay stay

okay, okay, okay, maybe going a little bit into crack-y happy tcw feelings, but all i’m saying is that i love the image of these dorks staying for each other, you know? the whole “you took the time to memorize me” and “all those times that you didn’t leave / it’s been occurring to me i’d like to hang out with you for my whole life” and “no one else is gonna love me when i get mad” makes me kinda soft but also sad knowing that one of the tragedies of tcw fam is that no one really stays.

the last time

highkey the whole clovis arc in season 6. but anyways, especially the lines about “this is the last time i’m asking you this / put my name at the top of your list” speaks a lot to me about this hunger (yeah, this is @ anakin) to be someone’s first choice. it’s about the anger and jealousy and dull pain of knowing that everyone else’s priorities are elsewhere (and that’s not their fault, but you still feel like it is).

but if we’re thinking about the clovis arc especially, i think a whole lot about anakin + padmé, as well as anakin and obi-wan, esp. in these lyrics: “you wear your best apology / but i was there to watch you leave” and “all those times i let you in / just for you to go again”. we know anakin and padmé were...going through it in this arc, but specially anakin and obi-wan’s conversation—the one where obi-wan’s trying to reach anakin? we see obi-wan briefly open up (ie. about satine!) and anakin quickly shuts it down, and when obi-wan leaves, we see the pain on both of their faces because this wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go.

but also, if we’re circling back to anakin and padmé’s relationship in this arc especially: the really, really painful lyrics about “this is the last time you tell me i’ve got it wrong” and “this is the last time i say it’s been you all along” and “this is the last time i let you in my door” and “this is the last time / i won’t hurt you anymore”...this arc truly explores just how deep the hurt can run when you have a secret relationship. how quickly love can blur into possession and jealousy and anger, and we see that in how anakin and padmé just...both crumble apart, especially in that one bit when padmé basically says she doesn’t want to see anakin for a little while. like. idk. it’s just sad, because this arc really showed just all the issues and problems within a relationship built on lies.

holy ground

oh god, what a fun song. but anyways, just to kick things off: “and darling, it was good / never looking down / and right there where we stood / was holy ground” speaks to a relationship that was good, even if it was wild and brief. which. disaster lineage.

the whole “i guess we fall apart in the usual way / and the story’s got dust on every page” and “i see your face in every crowd” vibe too—these idiots miss each other, and they probably see each other where they’re not supposed to. there was nothing unusual about their falling apart, of course, but something about this song compels me to think about how even in the grief and pain that ultimately drags ahsoka and obi-wan down especially, i think they still are fond of their happier memories with anakin.

also, “tonight i’m gonna dance for all we’ve been through” and “but i don’t wanna dance if i’m not dancing you” makes me a little sad because i think a lot about the fall of the empire and how the whole galaxy is out celebrating, but there’s a certain togruta woman who can’t completely celebrate because now she knows that. her whole family. really is gone.

sad beautiful tragic

this whole song is so tragic, but. anyways. more tragic disaster lineage vibes. the words “words, how little they mean / when you’re a little too late” makes me want to scream because i think a lot about how in rebels, ahsoka tells vader that she won’t leave him—not this time—and obi-wan crying that he loved anakin—the real tragedy here is that these were all words that anakin should have known deep down, but he didn’t, and they all felt late. their timing is terrible.

and “in dreams, i meet you in warm conversation” screams to me this one passage about how obi-wan dreams about anakin, although those dreams are anything but warm. but the idea of how obi-wan still dreams and how “time is taking its sweet time erasing you”—because in the kenobi novel especially, obi-wan explicitly struggles...a lot with anakin’s loss. he definitely gets...sad and tries to remember how the hell it all happened. he keeps pulling out anakin’s lightsaber and just. forcibly puts it away because he knows looking at it would cause just more grief and oh yikes.

the lucky one

ngl i forgot how fuckign good this song is,,,bro. anyways, i think this def. speaks to the og prequel trilogy trio especially, because i think they were all seriously going through with the whole...reputation thing. thinking mostly about how anakin, padmé, and obi-wan are all supposed to be these heroic / cool / beautiful figures who everyone’s supposed to look up to when in reality, they were all struggling with something. also lol the fact that obi-wan and anakin were both propped up as war propaganda figures in-universe because of palpacreep def. speaks to that whole “they’ll tell you now you’re the lucky one”.

and “they tell you that you’re lucky / but you’re so confused because you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used” and “you wonder if you’ll make it out alive” hurts the most, i think, just because how they apply to all those in prequel trilogy. anakin, obi-wan, and padmé—not to mention all the other jedi and the clones, oh god, the clones—were all fighting a war that ultimately didn’t matter, and they were all fighting a war that didn’t leave them as heroes. it just left them as pawns.

but i think if there’s any hope—any hope at all in this song, i think it’s in the last lyrics: “and they still tell the legend of how you disappeared / how you took the money and your dignity and got the hell out” reminds me the most of probably ahsoka and rex, or the people who survived the mess that was the clone wars. granted, rex didn’t exactly have the choice that ahsoka had, because she was the one who really made the big decision to look around herself and say “nope, i can’t be a part of this order”. she got the hell out.

everything has changed

hear me out, but i just think this makes for a cute anakin and ahsoka song, esp. their very cute beginnings. just like. as soon as they meet each other, both of them are ultimately changed. the fact that ahsoka has been noted to be the key to understanding who anakin is—the fact that it’s ahsoka’s relationship / interactions with anakin that ultimately makes him a better person because they’re siblings, your honor—yeah. very much the cute “all i know is we said hello”...the lyrics going on about “i just wanna know you better” and “your eyes look like coming home” makes me soft because. i think that while yes, they had their own rocky beginning, the difference between anakin and ahsoka’s relationship vs. anakin and obi-wan’s (rip i love anakin and obi-wan and i genuinely believe that obi-wan was the best teacher for anakin, and i think their bond is incredibly special, but.......boys please communicate better) is that i think anakin makes a really explicit effort to make sure ahsoka knows that like. he wants her around.

idk—i’m not saying obi-wan didn’t want anakin around! but i think one of the greatest tragedies of their relationship is that anakin always seemed to just. not click with obi-wan’s own demonstrations of love / i want you to be here messages. (the gambit duology goes a little more into this—only in those books, anakin and obi-wan actually talk a little about their feelings! which is nice!) but anyways, point being: anakin and ahsoka really looked at each other and were like “oh yeah. you’re my idiot now.” and i think that’s really cool of them.

starlight

oh god, this is kind of an anidala song but i also am tempted to say obitine song just because of that one line about “pretending to be a duchess and a prince” because,,,lol duchess geddit? and overall just think it’s really cute because. summer love!!!

but also, i do see this as an anidala song because “he was trying to skip rocks on the ocean, saying to me / don’t you dream impossible things?” because i see anakin as most certainly that dreamy-eyed boy who looks at padmé and is just. like that. (and we see a whole ton of that, esp. in aotc and how padmé initially is like “this is a terrible idea” and eventually winds up falling in love anyways, as one does.)

begin again

this song is odd because it doesn’t really give me overwhelming star wars feelings, but it does remind me a little bit of how ahsoka must have felt getting with the rebels crew. because i think ahsoka must have “watched it begin again” when she noted kanan and ezra’s interactions with each other, and i feel like when she’s with ezra, she sees a lot of the young padawan she used to be, and i think there must have been a point where she recognizes that “what’s past is past”. she’s watching everything begin again.

the moment i knew

this is another one of those songs that makes me sad about anidala because it seems like they’re always getting interrupted? the idea of being told that someone’s going to show but it might not happen because life (ie. war! there’s a war!),,,and still not being able to be really that sad about it in public makes me sad. just. i’m reminded of this one moment in tcw where anakin has to leave early because of something and just. the lyrics “what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn’t show”—like, of course, we see anakin sneaking off, but i def. think in that one tcw episode, we get a glimpse of. how lonely life might be if you’re just. waiting for someone to come home, only to realize that they might not show.

come back...be here

ha....hahahahaa weirdly both anakin and ahsoka and obitine feelings? give me a second.

okay, so as for anakin and ahsoka first: “i can’t help but wish you took me with you” hits hard just because of the time anakin tells ahsoka that he knows what it feels like to want to leave the order. just. oh god.

and then there’s this bit of “this is when the feeling sinks in / i don’t wanna miss you like this” hits hard, esp. considering the whole utapau arc where anakin accidentally slips in ahsoka’s name. he misses her, and i don’t think he really wanted to show that—but it sinks in so hard and fast for him, and it hurts so much oh god

also, the “right when i was just about to fall”: i know that in this context, fall is supposed to mean falling in love, but. the fact that anakin is literally about to fall like,,,a few days after his reunion with ahsoka. i cry now!

as for obitine: ahahahaha. pain, esp. considering how they probably separated after their year on the run? thinking about how that goodbye must have been like—mostly thinking about how there’s so much history between the two. how strange it is that they “didn’t know each other at all”, and how they might have had “the feeling they could know so much without knowing anything at all”, and now i think about how both of them could have “stumbled through the long goodbye”. i think a lot about those years of separation and how satine confesses how she had been in love with obi-wan for a long time—and how that in itself...wondering how or when satine knew for certain that she had fallen in love with the young jedi who came to her aid. thinking about how her “falling in love in the cruelest way” is how that whole falling in love—and realizing just how in love she was—is so cruel, because like. you know. when you’ve been in love / are loving someone for like...ten years....that’s kinda intense ngl

girl at home

lol this song doesn’t really fit with anything star wars related because i don’t think anyone in tcw would actually cheat on their loved ones? still 100000/10 a bop of a song though, and i still think it’s one of swift’s more mature songs, 10000/10 recommend.

#caroline talks #my essay #can you believe i spent 2.5 hours writing this

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spiderbirdo · 3 years

Note

Achilles and or Patroclus for Headcanon meme?

Headcanon A: realistic Shades are weird in a way that the less you interact with them the more they fade? Like, if they're on their own they kinda just turn blank? or like, sink into their own memories. Like in their faded state they’re also kinda emotionally blank too. Kind of like the ghosts in the Haunting of Bly Manor. Of course, if you talk to them, or if they talk to each other they retain their ‘mortal connection’ and can maintain their forms easier.

sO, in the beginning Zag couldn't really make out Pat’s face cuz he hasn't talked to anyone in a long ass time but as he visited him more Pat’s image became clearer and clearer.

Achilles form meanwhile looks incredibly clear cuz of his interactions with everyone working in the household.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious Patty can recite every single embarrassing thing Achilles has ever done in front of him since the day they met. It's kind of like how I and my friends have a log of stupid shit we say e.g. ‘Self-care doesn't start with an S’

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends If zag hadn't found Pat when he did, Pat might have drunk from the Lethe and permanently forgotten everything

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own. Oh man all of my headcanons about them are at least tangentially canon-compliant soooo

#asks #ask meme #Anonymous

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saint-14s-gay-pigeon · 3 years

Text

Post-Hunt Nap

Atlas lets his hair down after a long day.

"Nice work, Guardian." Crow's voice crackled to life through the comms, serving as Atlas’s signal that the hunt was finally over. It had become routine by this point to check in after every successful Wrathborn elimination, and the calm cadence of Crow’s words was a welcome relief after the incessant shrieking, wailing, and roaring that the creatures were prone to.

Atlas merely basked in it a moment while leaning against a rock to catch his breath. This particular hunt had ended up being a much more demanding ordeal than originally anticipated, and his eventual response was weighed down by fatigue despite his best efforts. "Thanks. You, too."

"How are you doing?" He hadn't managed to hide his condition very well, judging by the concern in Crow’s voice.

If Crow already knew, there was no point in lying. "Well, I'm exhausted and covered in Wrathborn gunk," Atlas admitted with a short laugh, trying to keep his complaining lighthearted. He scrunched his nose in distaste. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

There was a pause. "If you're covered in it, you probably don't want me to answer that."

"I second that," Glint chimed in.

Atlas sighed. "Lovely. Can I borrow your shower before I head out again?"

Crow wasn't entirely sure the Titan would fit inside what passed for a shower in his quarters considering even he found it cramped, but he wasn't about to say no. "Sure. Drop by the workshop when you can."

-----------------------------------------------

The water was cold and probably not much cleaner than the gunk it was washing away, and it was indeed cramped, but to Atlas it was the most refreshing shower he’d had in ages. He emerged a short time later in his civilian clothes to find Crow absentmindedly munching on a Bittersweet Biscotti while looking over the Cryptolith Lure.

"I'll admit," Atlas chuckled as he toweled at his hair with an old rag, "I thought you were lying when you said you liked them."

"They're not that bad," objected Crow, joining in the laughter as he finished his examination of the Lure. When he finally looked up at Atlas, however, he stopped short.

"Something wrong?" Atlas asked, setting the rag to the side.

Crow shook his head and swallowed, quickly coming back to himself. "I've just... never seen you with your hair down. Didn't realise how long it was." Did that sound weird? That sounded weird.

"And what do you think?" Atlas asked with a teasing grin.

"Ah… You look good. It suits you." Crow was thankful the dim light of the workshop would likely obscure the faint purple blush dusting his cheeks. He considered it a personal favour that Glint had refrained from commenting, although he could practically feel the little Ghost’s eye on him. It was probably better to change the subject before he had the chance to change his mind.

“So… that was a hell of a hunt, huh?”

To Crow’s relief, Atlas readily nodded, letting the prior conversation go without a fuss. “That’s putting it mildly. Didn’t expect two of them to show up at once,” he agreed. “At least the lure’s definitely working.”

“You did well,” Crow said, and Atlas fought through the fatigue to offer a grin in return, preening slightly at the praise. Crow couldn’t help but chuckle at the display; he hadn’t expected his words to carry that much weight.

With a tired but content sigh, Atlas slowly lowered himself to the floor of the workshop, leaning carefully against the most solid-looking of the walls. The shower was refreshing, but after so many hours of hunting, he was still thoroughly spent. He gestured to his side with a pat of the floor, beckoning Crow to join him. “Don’t sell yourself short, either,” he told Crow, smiling up at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Now it was Crow’s turn to be proud of himself. A grin bloomed across his face as he accepted the invitation, taking a seat next to the Titan and enjoying the grounding sense of calm that the subtle contact between their knees imparted. The workshop, for all its faults, was always better with company.

“Always happy to help,” Crow replied, casually resting his elbows on his legs. And it was true; even on days when securing the perimeter ended up being uneventful, he still enjoyed getting to see the Guardian in action. “Although you caught me by surprise today,” he admitted, thinking back on Atlas’s earlier performance. “I don’t often see you use void Light.”

“It doesn’t come naturally to me like arc does,” Atlas agreed, picking up on the unspoken question. Even now, he could feel the current of energy buzzing just beneath his skin. “I needed something more defensive, though, and Saint’s been teaching me some things. Figured it was worth a shot.”

“Saint?” Crow asked, tilting his head.

“Saint-14, Osiris’s partner,” Atlas explained. “They call him the greatest Titan who ever lived.”

“Atlas is gunning for his title,” Achilles half-joked, chiming in with an excited twirl. He never missed a chance to hype up his Guardian.

Crow laughed softly at the Ghost’s interjection, then nodded thoughtfully. “I didn’t know Osiris was in a relationship; he’s never mentioned him.”

Compared to Crow’s laugh, Atlas’s was a bright, rich sound. “That’s not surprising. Getting Osiris to share personal details is like asking Spider to donate Glimmer to charity. Hell, it took me ages to figure out he and Saint were together and I’d met both of them.” The Titan’s mouth skewed into a silly, lopsided grin of self-deprecation. “Although truth be told, I probably should’ve picked up on it sooner.”

The room fell silent after that save for the rhythmic rattling of the pipes, the conversation hanging in the air until Glint eventually spoke up.

“What about you?” he asked, dipping his shell toward Atlas. He knew what Crow was thinking, and he had no problem taking matters into his own metaphorical hands if Crow wasn’t going to say it himself. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Crow’s eyes immediately widened. “Glint!” he hissed, his gaze snapping to the Ghost.

Glint responded by shifting the sides of his shell as though shrugging. “No harm in being curious.”

Atlas merely laughed again, seemingly oblivious to the exchange. “Not these days, no. I’d like to be, but…” He tilted his head to the side as he considered how to elaborate. “This lifestyle,” he eventually settled, “is demanding, of both your time and attention. It can be hard to find someone who’s willing to live with that.”

Not that he could blame anyone for feeling that way. He thought back to his last relationship: a Hunter and fellow Awoken with pink hair and boundless optimism. The two of them were still good friends, but had mutually agreed that trying to forge a romance on top of saving a broken world had been too great an ask, even for them. He hoped she was doing well.

Crow nodded slowly, his brows knitting together in an expression of sympathy. Glint had refused to give him the full rundown of Atlas’s accomplishments, but it was his understanding that there were many, and Atlas specifically was a big deal even among other Guardians. It wasn’t surprising to hear he’d given himself entirely to the cause and left little room for his own personal happiness.

Unsure of how else to respond, Crow eventually spoke in a soft voice while staring at his hands. “I... hope you find them soon.”

Atlas replied with a small smile of gratitude. It wasn’t a subject he’d given much thought recently, nor was he in any particular rush to find a partner of his own, but he appreciated the sentiment regardless. When he opened his mouth to say as much however, he was instead interrupted by a powerful yawn.

The distant melancholy of Crow’s expression quickly gave way to a concerned frown as he noticed how the Titan was now struggling to keep his eyes open. “You shouldn’t fly like this,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. The calm of the conversation had finally provided a chance for the adrenaline to wear off, it seemed.

Atlas nodded and yawned again. As rich as it was to be receiving flying advice from Crow of all people, he was right, of course, and not even Atlas was stubborn enough to try to argue it. “I’ll get some rest before I head out,” he promised.

“Good. You can stay here, if you’d like. I don’t have much in the way of bedding but I can…” Crow’s voice slowly trailed off as he registered a gentle weight on his shoulder. Atlas’s head had fallen to the side and was now resting against him, navy blue hair cascading down his arm.

One look at Atlas’s face confirmed he was already dozing off.

“Should I wake him up?” Achilles asked, hovering at a short distance. He made to approach Atlas, but Crow reached out his free hand to stop him.

Maybe he was getting used to supporting Atlas in his work, and this was somehow an extension of that. Or maybe he just enjoyed the physical contact with another Lightbearer. Whatever the reason, he found he wasn’t in any rush to chase Atlas off.

Crow chuckled quietly as he shifted on the spot, careful not to disturb the Titan as he adjusted his position to be comfortable enough to remain seated for a while. “It’s okay,” he assured the Ghost. “I’m happy to help.”

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #the Crow #season of the hunt #my writing #my guardians #Atlas #just felt like having them hang out and be friends y'know?

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

Even In Different Lives, We Always Find Each Other PT. 4

A Connor Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 1,659 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Woo! I wrote two parts in one day! We cool, we cool! Enjoy! -Thorne

The gentle sway of a ship wasn’t something uncommon to her; she’d spent more than a few days aboard the Aquila with Connor, not that they spent their time swaying gently. But this ship? Her father’s ship? It felt unknown because it was unknown. She resisted the urge to keep pacing around the captain’s cabin, resisting even more to snooping through his things. Even if it would give her answers, it still felt wrong. He’d left some time ago to fetch a doctor, since she’d absolutely refused to go to one, insisting she was fine. However, with each passing second, he grew more unconfident about her state, finally making a deal that if he brought her somewhere comfortable would she see a doctor. She agreed, and here she sat for the last hour. Naivety on her part wondered what was taking him so long, experience told her that he was searching for a doctor they could trust. Likely a doctor for the templars. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the doors to the cabin opened up, and in came her father, followed by a man that made her blurt out, “Benjamin Church?” The doctor smiled as he entered the cabin.

“I’m glad to see you remember me Miss (Y/N). Even more so to see you’re alive.” She blinked, still a bit stunned, because she very much so remembered watching Connor kill him. She quickly hid it, nodding along.

“As am I, sir.” Shay walked over to her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” (Y/N) offered him a satisfied nod, replying,

“I’m feeling a little better.” Trying to make the situation lighter, she quipped, “Not everyday you escape your execution.” Though Benjamin and she laughed, Shay didn’t, a frown spreading across his features. (Y/N) cleared her throat, adding, “Anyways, Mister Church, I assume you’re here for me.” He nodded, walking over to her.

“Master Shay said you took a nasty wound to the head that’s resulted in some state of amnesia.” She tossed a quick glare at her father, who seemed unperturbed by it, offering his own mocking look; she glanced back at Benjamin and said,

“It’s not that serious sir.” An unconvinced expression crossed his face and he looked to Shay who muttered,

“She thinks Haytham Kenway is a templar.” (Y/N) couldn’t fight the sigh that left her mouth and Benjamin remarked,

“So, it’s not a case of amnesia, but one of altered memories?” She shook her head, holding up a hand, to correct,

“No, I remember things, it’s just…it’s just-” He cut her off with a flurry of questions.

“Who’s the current king?”

“King George the Third is the King of England.”

“What’s the year?”

“Seventeen-eighty-four, one year after the revolutionary war.” Their brows furrowed at her words and he asked curiously,

“Who won the revolutionary war?” The way he gave her the inquiry made her pause, and she opened her mouth, but nothing seemed to come out other than an unsure,

“The…patriots?” Benjamin shared a glance to her father, before tipping his head. They turned, discussing something, but she listened carefully.

“I’ve not seen anything like this sir. She answered the first question well, but the others…” He trailed off and her father added,

“Distorted memories?” Benjamin nodded and (Y/N) grunted, banging her heel against the bed frame, causing them to look back at her.

“Hey, if you’re going to talk about me like I’m crazy, at least do it where I can’t see or hear. I’d like to preserve some sense of dignity.” The doctor fumbled for words, but Shay eased,

“(Y/N), we don’t think you’re crazy, but you’re remembering things that have not and have never happened.” She met his gaze and he knelt beside her, gently taking her hands in his. “The revolutionary war ended in seventeen-seventy-seven, and the Crown won. We saw to this.” To say she was shocked was to say the least and it obviously showed on her face because Benjamin stepped over, placing a hand on Shay’s shoulder.

“Sir, might I suggest letting her read up on the reports to right her memories? I think telling her might only disturb her state more.”

“You mean she needs to see it herself to believe it again.” He nodded and Shay sighed, squeezing her hands. “I understand.” The doctor smiled at her, politely stating,

“I’ll also need to check out the wound on your head.” (Y/N) waved him off, remarking,

“There’s no need. It’s not an open wound. It’s internal.”

“Miss (Y/N)-” A flicker of irritation simmered inside her and she bit out,

“I’m. Fine.” He pursed his lips, but tipped his head and Shay said,

“Benjamin, I’ll show you out.” The two left and (Y/N) stood from the bed, hands immediately rising to grip her head, palms pressed tightly to her temples as if it would find whatever it was she was missing. As she walked to the side of the cabin, she caught sight of a few pieces of parchment nailed to the wall, prompting her to step closer and examine them. Children’s drawings, but with her signature and initials in the corner. A sad smile crossed her lips as she looked at the one in the middle, obviously a poorly drawn picture of her father and her holding hands. Footsteps sounded beside her, followed by his low voice. “You drew that when you were six.” (Y/N) didn’t look back at him, simply letting out a low hum. “It’s my favorite one next to the one you drew of me in my whaler suit.” Shay chuckled. “It’s still surprising that you’re the reason we don’t go hunting at sea anymore.” At that, she turned her head, gazing at him.

“Beg pardon? My fault?” He nodded, a grin on his lips as he retold,

“We’d anchored the ship one day when we saw a killer whale to hunt.” His lips pulled into a small smile. “You watched the entire time from the side of the ship, but when you realized what we were doing, you started screaming for me to stop.” (Y/N) frowned and retorted,

“Well…they’re living animals.” Shay huffed a laugh, nodding his head.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” He looked at her. “When we came back aboard you cried all evening and told me I couldn’t hunt sea animals anymore.” A smile of her own grew and she glanced back at the wall.

“And it worked, I see.”

“It did.” They fell into a silence, and she muttered,

“I’m sorry I can’t seem to remember what’s happened.” Shay didn’t respond for a moment, then he questioned,

“…How much do you remember?” (Y/N) felt her jaw loosen and she shrugged unsurely.

“I…I don’t even know if what I know is what really happened.” She looked at her father, and for a moment, he seemed so alien to her. “I know things. I know about life and all it’s ups and downs, I know all my training and skills, I know about the templars and assassins, but…” A haunted look came across her and she whispered, “But I don’t remember this,” she gestured to the wall of drawings before looking at him sadly. “And I don’t remember you.” (Y/N) could tell the words did more than hurt him, but she figured honesty was needed in a situation like this. “I’m sorry if that hurts you…dad…but…it’s the truth.” He was quiet for a minute, then he took a step towards her gently placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her to look at him. When she did, he murmured earnestly,

“Then we’ll help you remember.” She tried to smile, but the more she tried, the more a grimace formed, and Shay squeezed her shoulders, adding, “But you need to get some rest.” He pulled away, nodding to the bed. “I still have things to take care of. You can rest here if you’d like.” (Y/N) shook her head, asking,

“Is it okay if I go for a walk? I think I need some fresh air.” His features turned hesitant and he advised,

“I’m not too keen on you going out after what just happened.”

“Why?”

“Well, you almost died. We’ve received reports that Achilles has multiple assassins hunting you down. You’re a walking targ-” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes, challenging,

“I can take care of myself.” Shay fixed her with a hard stare, countering,

“I know you can. Be that as it may, I don’t want you leaving the pier unless I tell you to.” She sighed, wanting to argue, but she couldn’t deny that his words had some ground. She might be in Boston, but this Boston wasn’t hers, wasn’t what she was used to. If she wanted to get out and back to Connor, she’d need to brush up on who the templars and assassins were in this world, and who could help her get out. (Y/N) waved a hand sending him off.

“Point taken.” Shay gave a satisfied nod and she asked, “Benjamin mentioned reports I could read over.” He pointed to a shelf and she glanced at it.

“Those are all the reports we’ve filed in the past few years.” He waved a finger. “Blue spines are high profile reports on assassins, red spines are informants and members of the templars. You might want to look those over.” (Y/N) nodded and looked back at him.

“Got it.” Shay smiled at her, reaching up to rest a hand on her head, lightly, he patted her.

“You’ll be okay (Y/N). Just take some time to rest.” Returning his smile with a less than cheerful one he hugged her before pulling away, heading for the doors. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Remember,” he warned. “Don’t leave the pier.” Sarcasm rolled over her tongue, but she locked it, replying,

“Yes sir.” When the door shut, she turned to the books and muttered, “Alright, which one of you will tell me how to get out of Boston.”

#connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway #Ratonhnhaké:ton #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #assassins creed 3 #ac3 #haytham kenway #shay cormac

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histoireettralala · 4 years

Text

How the (Quarantined) Murats broke the Internet (and Lannes).

Hello friends! I know we already have several ongoing projects with @joachimnapoleon, but we couldn’t resist unleashing this one.

It’s set in the Quarantine!AU which is itself a spin off of the Roadtrip!AU, Trifecta Universe, name it as you will :^)

Inspired by real world situation, unfortunately. Hoping this will bring to those of you who are in lockdown (same here!) some much needed levity.

****************************************************************************************

Caroline is cursing the day Napoléon enrolled her in Mme Campan's Institute; no, scrap that/rewind, she is cursing the day he met Joséphine, and consequently, Hortense, bane of her life, goody-two-shoes of the century who has inspired Napoleon with the truly visionary idea of trying to copy and paste Hortense's behaviour onto Caroline's whole self.

Now, Caroline is mature enough to admit some slight controlling tendencies. And maybe a contrarian streak - but try being the youngest sister in the Bonaparte family - you have to fight twice as hard to make yourself a place and get some respect.

Her point is, she hasn't taken to the Institute. For excellent reasons. If Hortense has made it a point of honor to excel in some subject, Caroline has systematically hated it. No use fighting for scraps after the star pupil has received the old hag's whole quota of praise, after all. Now Caroline wholeheartedly embraces whatever makes Madame Campan pinch her lips, shake her head, or sigh (as much as the snobby old lady allows herself to), treasuring every sign of disappointment the way Hortense collects gold stars. (Not to brag, but Caroline is now a master at it).

Even her marriage is a testament to that superhuman ability of hers.

Not that she didn't love Joachim anyway - she's been ridiculously besotted with the man since she was fifteen, and nothing has yet managed to abate her feelings towards the maddening, adorable goofball. But honestly, the way Mme Campan's face had fallen (oh, ever so slightly, but Caroline knows how to look) in disapproval had been the cherry on top of the delightful, curly-haired, long-legged cake.

She has relished every single one of their subsequent media appearances, and she would lie if she says she hasn't occasionally baited the press with their nationwide famous PDA. For now, Caroline admits, in spite of the "scandals" and all the choices she has made, the old witch is still standing and tutting in disapproval - like that would work. But someday, yes, oh someday she would break, and it would be all thanks to Caroline.

So - she is cursing. Because, of course, Hortense has always been committed to arts and crafts, and Caroline, therefore, has pointedly ignored them.

And now she can't sew to save her life.

Literally.

Because masks are mandatory now.

And she has four kids to protect.

And, well, she may suck as a student, but she does NOT suck as a mother. So, taking a deep breath, she watches videos, buys fabric, filters, and elastic bands, and sets herself to the task.

Two hours later, her eyes are red, her voice hoarse, her fingers raw and pricked, and she is irreparably breaking her ties with the sewing machine.

She vaguely considers calling Pauline - even if she can't sew herself (can she ?) Pauline will surely know someone who can, and at least she is kind enough not to let anyone know of Caroline's embarrassing problem.

She is still scowling fiercely when the shrieking chorus begins (the kids' usual reaction to Joachim's arrival), promptly followed by the sound of bags hitting ground and little feet running, three, two, one, impact. And Joachim's laugh.

God but that sound can still bring a smile to her face.

She wipes her eyes and straightens herself up before opening the door to the entry hall where the kids are now swarming around their father and drowning him in cuddles and kisses, stuffing their drawings under his nose and chattering excitedly. ** Beneath the squealing, adoring, warm little pile of his children's wriggling bodies, Joachim soaks up the innocent love and its side dish of kicking little feet and shrieks in the ear. As Louise's sticky little fingers pat his cheek, he sees from the corner of his eye the door open on his wife.

His sunshine.

His glorious little dynamo.

But there's a problem, Joachim thinks frantically (what has he done now ??? nothing comes up!!), because she doesn't spark her usual energy - oh my God, she's disappointed, that's it, disappointed and SAD (WHAT I HAVE DONE ???), her walk is nothing like her usual triumphant gait (it's the COUCH), even her hair looks listless (Lannes may still let me crash, where is my sleeping bag ??). Joachim takes a deep breath and centers himself before looking at her again, and - oh. She's not angry at him.

Oh.

Then whatever has her so bothered is going to die a fiery death and if she wants, Joachim will stomp it to death (with his hooves, Achille's voice adds in his mind).

** Famous last words, Joachim muses, hesitantly fingering the white cotton.

He has watched the video. Three times, to make sure.

He has cut the necessary length and width for six masks (his ambition for tonight is moderate).

The machine looks back at him, reminding him of a crouched feline, poised to pounce. He eyes it warily. Caroline's explanations, though thorough, had been... fast paced. Joachim has caught the general idea and in what order the different steps of the process are supposed to happen. He has minded every fold of the fabric and set aside the elastic bands.

It's... daunting. If he messes that up his family will be stuck inside forever and the house will probably catch fire spontaneously from the sheer frustration burning inside them. Murats need to be OUTSIDE (Bonapartes don't deal much better with being locked up).

He carefully selects the stitch and folds the fabric by instinct - patterns are as useless as maps, anyway - he'll go with his guts and God bless the bold.

He takes a deep breath and lines up the three layers of material - with the elastic bands properly tucked inside- under the needle, lowers the presser foot, and gently pushes on the pedal.

Oh my God.

Oh my God it's happening.

Joachim marvels at the speed the machine uses to execute its task, remembering to steer the fabric only if needed, and being careful with it ("To be honest, sweetie, I'm not even sure if it's working well, " Caroline had admitted. "I think Mama gave it to me, ugh, when I went to the Institute. " Joachim hadn't pushed because he wasn't that insane, some things were taboo in this house).

When the first side is done, he takes a moment to inspect his work before switching to the other side.

Wow.

It's... Pretty okay ?

The mask all done, Joachim holds it to his face, and stands up to find a mirror (they're everywhere in this house, and see, it's useful).

He tries it on.

It's very... white.

Time for some color, he decides.

Heh. If anyone had told him before tonight that he was going to sew a mask and like it, he would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Because, even though he'd been quick to assure Caroline he totally could do this (I've repaired my suits several times! ), his skills were limited to a temporary little tweak and quick repair when he didn't have the time to go to the tailor.

In front of the mirror, Joachim smiles beneath the mask.

This is going swimmingly. ** Caroline grumbles when a weight hollows the mattress out.

"It's late," she mutters.

"Shhhh, " says the voice. Then, with a giddy sort of energy Caroline can only wonder at (who the hell is so alive at such an ungodly hour -oh yeah, that's right, only Joachim). "Love."

A pause.

"Sweetheart ?"

Caroline groans.

"Yeah", she forces out.

"We have seven masks!"

The proclamation wakes Caroline completely and her hand is already searching for the light switch.

"What?"

She pushes the switch and looks at Joachim's face. Blinking under the sudden flood of light, he looks …

Surprised and happy. A little bit like a dog who has just learned a new trick. The smile on his face is infectious.

"You want to see them ?"

Caroline is already up.

In her office, the old machine sleeps and seven masks wait in a wicker basket. They're real. They look like the models Caroline vainly tried to follow. She touches them, putting one over her face. It fits. The elastics do not hurt.

They have masks.

Joachim watches her, waiting anxiously for her verdict. Her eyes shine in the mirror, and then she turns towards him, takes off the mask and sets it aside.

A purring Caroline leaps into his arms.

So much for sleep.

** At the usual hour, Lannes, bottle and glass at the ready, flicks on Skype. He has so much to tell Murat (to be honest, he never knew before quarantine how much of a gossip he'd turn out to be, but what can you do) and even without any grand news (which is the case most of the time) it's always a highlight of his day.

The kids are lovely but sometimes you need an adult conversation, okay ?

An adult male conversation.

A bro discussion, yeah, okay.

"Murat ?" he calls.

Weird. Usually Joachim leaps onto any greeting, if he's not the first one to call.

"Yo ? Murat ?"

Nothing.

"JOACHIM MURAT" he bellows.

Finally, a harried face appears. The black curls are everywhere and the eyes seem inhabited by some unholy light.

Has Joachim started to drink without him ?

Or worse, with someone else ?

Lannes feels oddly cheated at the idea.

"Ah, yeah, okay, hello, Lannes!" says Murat, blinking. "Is it already time ?"

Already ? The day had dragged on.

"What the hell is happening," he blurts out. "Have you started drinking ?"

Murat looks weirdly offended, scrunching up his nose.

"Drink- what ? No!"

He straightens up and clears his throat.

"No, Lannes, I didn't cheat on our Skype cocktail hour with some random booze harlot, I respect you too much for that. I was just, " he lowers his voice and Lannes instinctively leans towards his screen, intrigued.

"I was busy.

- Are the kids okay ?

- Yeah, they're fine! Excellent! The spirit is undaunted, yeah!

- Joachim," Lannes slowly articulates.

Artless blue eyes look up at him.

"I was making masks, and I forgot the time, that's all!"

- Masks, " Lannes repeats in a bland tone.

- Masks," Joachim nods.

- Masks ?" What the hell, Lannes wonders, masks, like, actual masks against Coronavirus ? Masks, as in, paper masks or clown masks for the kids, right ?

- Masks, as in, mandatory masks, yeah, I'm making them, " and Lannes has stepped into an alternate dimension.

- You're making masks.

- I am.

- Masks.

- Masks, " Joachim patiently assures him.

- Making ? As in, as in SEWING them ?"

The black curls fly as Murat vehemently nods.

Holy shit.

Lannes almost busts a gut laughing.

" I could show you", Murat says with a hint of disapproval in his voice (it was weird) "but if this is the way you react I might not bother."

The laughter stops short. Murat's headmasterly tones are frankly weirding Lannes out.

Is this a prank ?

Lannes knows it's not. It's all over Murat's face. He's actually serious.

Holy shit.

"Why are you the one sewing the masks ?" he finally asks.

"Because," Murat shrugs. "I volunteered."

Lannes blinks.

"Plus, " he adds, with a smile, " Turns out I'm great at it!"

That is still to be seen, Lannes thinks, remembering, oh, way too many boasts.

"You'll see", Murat nods sagely.

"Right", Lannes croaks.

The evening goes on.

** He made the haberdashery's day, Joachim thinks, fabric piled up in his arms.

Good for them, and good for his family.

Today, he is going to let the kids choose the fabric for their masks. Just because they are young doesn't mean they have to settle for their parents' choice, right ? He carefully picked anything that could interest or amuse the little ones.

He has turtles, an armada of kittens, various birds, flowers, geometric patterns, dots and stripes of all sorts.

"What are you doing, Papa ?"

Joachim turns to face Letitia.

"I just bought some fabric to make some masks for you all, sweetheart. Do you want to choose yours ?"

The little girl nods eagerly.

"Can I stay with you ?" she says, leaning into him.

Joachim can't resist such a request.

** Caroline climbs up the stairs to Joachim's office where he finally set camp with the sewing machine two days ago.

She is still mesmerized by his mastery over the beast.

He has adopted a routine, and tonight, she needs proof that Joachim sewing actually happened (Pauline had laughed, and Joséphine had asked for receipts), so she's carrying her camera. She scowls inwardly, why can't anyone ever believe them ? Joachim told her about Lannes the other day - well, what is so extraordinary about it ? Being male doesn't make you genetically unable to sew, you know. Men!

Hushed voices wash over her, Letitia's flute-like voice overlapping with Joachim's warm tones.

"And then I put the fabric here," their little girl is saying.

"Uh huh," her man agrees, with the softness he saves for his children (and herself). " Perfect!"

Letitia giggles.

Caroline, readying her camera, silently enters the room. Both father and daughter are so absorbed by their task and by each other that they don't notice her presence.

Letitia sits on her father's knee, her little hands holding the fabric - a giraffe pattern - and Joachim is entirely focused on her.

Caroline starts filming.

When the giraffe-adorned mask is ready, Letitia snuggles into her father's chest and he offers her the next selection, apparently a swarm of tropical fishes.

"Your turn, Papa", says the little girl.

"Oh, you're right, princess", Joachim smiles, mock chastened. "Shall I ?"

Letitia nods determinedly. “Go on good Sir".

Joachim sews the next mask.

It's very sweet, Caroline thinks, beaming behind her camera. This is the perfect proof that she was right, not only about his sewing ability, but about her own choice years ago. I'm so going to upload this as soon as I'm out of here, she rejoices.

** New video uploaded, by @carolinemurat, 7.54

@pauline-borghese, 8.01: oh my god it's so cute!

@pauline-borghese, 8.01: and he's doing great!! how many has joachim already sewn ?

@pauline-borghese, 8.08: sorry, just had to watch it again. (<3) This is an adorable duo and you were totally right, I should never have doubted you.

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.14: wow

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.14: I'm speechless.

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.14: In a very good way!! Congratulations to Joachim.

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.17: very sweet and actually educational! Congratulations!

@aimée-davout, 8.26: I wish Louis would do that with our little one!

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.34: Can I share this on other social medias , Caroline ?

@pauline-borghese, 8.36: was about to suggest the same! I can boost it up with my contacts. Up for it sister ?

The phone rings.

"Mama ?"

"Uh huh, he did that. He's... Yes, Mama, he actually offered, and.. Mama. Mama! Listen to me please ? Yes, I promise. Uh huh. Yes. Yes, really. Did you watch the video ? You really should, your namesake is on it too. "

Ten minutes later.

"Yes, Mama ? Is everything - oh. Oh. Well, yes, he's still sewing. Wha- yes, Mama, I won't disturb him. Of course, Mama. You.. what ? His favorite dessert ? Why... Mama we're in lockdown, he can't go to Corsica. You.. Ah, yes, of course, I'll ask him. And yes, of course, I'm feeding him! Mama!"

@aglaéauguiéney, 8.47: mind boggling.

@eleonoredenuelle, 8.49: how talented can a man be ?

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.53: It's actually a better tutorial than the official ones ? And so much cuter.

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.55: I wish I had a little girl.

@carolinemurat, to @joséphine-malmaison, @pauline-borghese, 8.58: Yes.

TBF...

#fanfiction #QuarantineAU #How the Murats broke the Internet (and Lannes)#part1 #joachim murat #caroline bonaparte murat #jean lannes #and many others

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mae-thomas · 4 years

Text

A Masked Escape // Selfpara with contribution from Aruin for Nyla

Riley held Nyla tightly in their arms, their lips moving against hers with a gentle playfulness. The two of them had been on the roof for a bit, slipping banter between kisses. Riley was excited about whatever you could call this new thing going on between them, it had been a while since they had felt this at ease. Riley had run out of the liquor in their glass a while ago but that didn’t bother them, they were enjoying the soberness; the feeling of the crisp cold air against their skin. It allowed them to focus on the moment, on Nylas alluring eyes.

They had been laughing about something or other when Riley heard the shots. Their fight mode activated, their composure cool and collected. The sounds had taken them back to when they were a prison guard. Riley had been in too many bad situations to count and they didn't want this to be another one. “Hold on, sorry.” They said, their ear turning towards the door they had come through earlier. Two shots, then another, a few more before the noise erupted like popcorn. “We need to go.” They said decisively. Riley pulled their leg out from under Nylas softly, using the railing of the fire escape to pull themself up.

“Are those gunshots?” They heard Nyla say. She seemed curious, though a moment later Riley watched as a slightly shaken expression crossed her face. “Yes, I believe they are.” They said, their voice steady. Riley watched Nyla put herself together as they patted the dirt off their suit pants. Riley slipped their mask on, leaving their glass on the floor to keep their hands free. They reached a hand out to her, the glistening of the rings pulling Riley’s mind to their expectations of the night. It had turned out completely different than they had expected. “Okay, shit.” Her words brought their focus back to her. “Um, nevermind.” She said, reaching up for Riley's hand. “Okay. Let’s go.” Nyla agreed. Riley pulled her up, making sure she was stable before they let go and headed to check the door.

“Locked.” Riley said, taking a deep breath. They took a look at the lock, it was one of those electric key card entry types that seemed to be their achilles heel at the moment. Think, think. Riley bit their lip, attempting to come up with a plan. They walked to the edge of the fire escape, leaning over the side to count how many floors down they were. “We’re five stories up. The fire escape serves only the top three.” They thought aloud, keeping Nyla on the same page; open to any ideas she might have.

Riley pulled out their phone, the screen lit up with texts from Miguel. “Shit’s going down out there.” They said with a light sigh. They messaged him back, updating him with their situation and offering to keep a lookout. Riley slid their phone back into their pocket, their hand grazing Nylas hips as they made their way past her.

Riley descended to the next floor using the fire escape, they found a door with the same damn lock. “Shit.” They said, their hand reaching out to the door, their weight pushing against it. “Any ideas?” Riley asked with a smirk as they watched her lean against the railing. They looked around the fire escape, noting anything that might help, then into the window, cupping their hands around their eyes to see through to the other side. The room was dark though they could make out covered furniture scattered intermittently.

Riley looked over to Nyla. Her arms were crossed as she peered over their shoulder. Riley raised a brow. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” They asked. Nyla tilted her head “Break it.” She said calmly.

“Fuck it.” Riley said, looking at Nyla with a wink. They pulled off their jacket, wrapping it around their arm. Riley centered themself before using their momentum to break through the window. They made it inside, laying on the floor for a moment. They grunted as they stood, the wind slightly knocked out of them. Riley pulled the door open for Nyla. “M’lady.” Riley said, holding the door open with their food while they shook the glass out of their suit coat.

Riley slid their jacket on, and pulled Nyla out of the room by her hand. They found the nearest stairwell and took it all the way down to the parking garage. Fortunately the garage had street access. “Get up to the street and grab a cab.” Riley said, pointing to the inclined driveway. “Or just walk - as fast as you can.” They added. “I-” Riley bit their lip for a moment, their eyes settling on Nylas. “I don’t want you to get hurt and I can't go with you.”

Riley took a step back, nodding towards the entrance of the building. “I have people in there I need to help.” They said with conviction. Not only did they want to help the other Devils, but they had left a date in the ballroom earlier that night and it wasn’t fair to leave her behind.

Riley observed Nyla as she straightened her posture defiantly. “Well then I’m coming with you.” She states. She pauses to think for a minute. “I mean I don’t know how many doctors are in there but I know enough to treat a wound....” She gave Riley a small smirk. “-And I am not at all afraid of death.” She added.

Riley couldn’t help but smile at Nylas unexpected words. It sparked something in them that they hadn’t felt in a long time. They pulled her in, their hand coming up to her neck as their lips met. “You better let me take you to dinner when all of this is over.” They said in a low voice. They kissed her once more before nodding to the door. “Are you ready?” They asked, a smirk forming on their lips.

Riley pulled out the small pistol that they kept strapped to their side, checking the clip as they readied for battle. “Let’s do this.” Riley said with a wink before. They ran into the building together, the door slamming shut behind them. They walked into what seemed to be a war zone, bullet holes lining the walls, people laying injured on the floor.

They spotted a couple sitting in a hallway outside of the ballroom where the shots were coming from. “You.” Riley said as they walked up. They recognised them from Devils gatherings. “Follow this hall out to the parking garage. Get to Moonlight.” They told the prospect and her date.

They watched as Nyla bent down, taking a look at the girls stomach wound. It seemed that the partner had used their jacket in an attempt to stop the blood.“Don’t go to the hospital, Miguel’s orders.” They said, helping her up. “Keep pressure on that.” Nyla ordered the prospects partner as they limped away.

A Royal appeared out of nowhere, coming around the corner hot as they shot in Riley and Nylas direction. Riley shouldered Nyla out of the way as a bullet flew past them. “Sorry.” They muttered as they aimed their gun. They shot three rounds into the stranger, only taking them down and purposely not killing them. They had learned how to control a gun at their last job, at least it was a transferable skill for this one.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked. Nylas answer was depicted on her face. “Never better.” She answered, bringing her hand down Riley’s arm intimately only to squeeze it affirmingly at their wrist. The squeeze signaled Riley of at least one thing of not two. First, Nyla was ready for more action. And Second, she was there with them and didn’t regret one minute of it.

They continued, finding more and more Devils as they went on. It seemed more than a dozen had been hit, some civilians included in that count. Riley offered help to them too, inviting them to Moonlight. “You didn’t deserve this.” Riley said angrily as they watched Nyla tighten a belt around the civilian's leg. “I can’t believe I was as naive to think that they wouldn’t do something like this so public.” They said, shaking their head. “For someone who claims to be Royal they sure don’t give a fuck about anyone else than themselves. Oh, hm, well that makes a lot of sense, actually.” They shook their head.

Riley watched Nyla work with an impressed grin on their face, appreciating her calm focus. Riley didn’t know if it was adrenaline or pure talent, but the two of them seemed to be thriving under the stress of the night. Nyla finished up with the civilian, sending them out the back door. They made it to the main ballroom, ducking bullets as they slid behind a table that was turned on its side. “Okay, Doc.” Riley said, looking over their shoulder to Nyla. “It’s my turn to help.” They said with a wink. “Stay close.” Riley added. They peeked their head out, taking stock of three Royals across the ballroom that they would be able to target. They took cover quickly, moving back to where they were. There were more than that further away from them that they wouldn’t even worry about right now as there were other Devils fighting beside them.

Nyla leaned in close to Riley. “After our dinner, I’m definitely going to need you to teach me how to use a gun nearly as well as you can.” She said. “It’s a date.” Riley smiled while changing the clip.

Riley turned, their shoulder peeking out around the table as they aimed for a Royal, hitting him in the shoulder and then the knee.

Riley pulled Nyla across the opening, quickly pressing her body against a pillar with their own. They leaned out slightly to take a look, shooting two more shots towards the Royals. Riley looked to their right to see another prospect give them a signal to retreat. “Let’s get out of here, for real this time.” They said, their arm around her waist. Riley led the way, taking Nylas hand in theirs as they escaped through the garage.

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