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ghoul-bonez · 11 months

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~I Love You, I Trust You, I See You~

(Ao’nung x Fem! Deaf! Sully! Reader)

Summary: When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was it’s because you couldn’t hear him.

Word count: 4.4k

Author’s note: This is the longest oneshot I’ve written at 4.4k words and 9 1/2 google docs pages… Sign language will be normal font, and bold & italics will be spoken, although I try my best to show which is going on.

~Masterlist~

I Love You, I Trust You, I See You

When people thought of the Sully family many thought of your siblings. They thought of Lo’ak who was always a troublemaker, causing chaos everywhere he went. They thought of Kiri who seemed so in tune with her surroundings that she might as well be Eywa herself. They thought of Tuk who was the youngest, still enamored by everyday life. They thought of Neteyam, a strong leader who would someday take on the role of Olo’eyktan after your father.

They never thought of you.

You who always seemed to be in your own little world. You who never had any friends. You who never talked. You who always seemed so attentive to the world around you, yet had no desire to join it.

When you were born after your twin Neteyam, a spike of fear had run through everyone in the room when you began to cry, but no sound came out. They feared you may not be breathing right, you may need your airways cleared. They feared something was wrong, and that was true.

When your parents or siblings thought about your family, they thought about you. They thought about how funny you were, always cracking jokes when there was a chance. They thought about how kind you were, taking a moment to check on everyone daily. They thought about how different you were than most.

They thought about you. You who couldn’t hear.

You always seemed to be in your own world, and that drew many away from you, they didn’t want to be friends with someone who they didn’t think was paying attention to them, and to be fair you weren’t paying attention to people most of the time. You preferred to direct your attention to the world around you, always keeping an eye out as you couldn’t hear danger coming.

When you had been caught by Quaritch and his men you had panicked, more than everyone else at least. You didn’t know what was going on, you didn’t know what they were saying, your lip reading was not dependable, and definitely not in english.

When your siblings arms were bound you couldn’t keep yourself calm, now you had no way of communicating, they couldn’t translate for you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes closed as tight as possible to try to calm yourself by blocking out the outside world.

When you felt your captor’s grip on your release your eyes shot open, looking around at the damage around you, multiple avatars dead on the ground. Then you ran, you ran faster than ever before in the first direction you saw.

You ran and ran, eyes trained on everything around you, and when you ran into someone and they grabbed you again it was like a shock. You let out a scream, the first noise anyone had ever heard you make. A noise nobody was aware you could make.

You turned to dead weight in an attempt to get out of their grasp, panic coursing through you again as your eyes couldn’t come into focus. However, the person dropped to the ground with you, pulling your face towards them and holding it still as you tried to thrash. Then they blew air into your face, and you realized you were safe.

When you were younger you would throw temper tantrums, as children do, where you would close your eyes to refuse to listen to your parents. Not being able to see them meant no sign language, which meant no having to listen to them. However your father found one thing always worked, blowing air on your face. Your eyes would shoot open, highly offended with your mouth dropped open, before you would sign at him, “Your breath is gross.” in retaliation.

You had never been more relieved for your dad’s stupid way of getting you to listen. Your eyes finally came into focus and you calmed down seeing his face, but that calm quickly turned into crying, sobbing. You couldn’t help but let out all of the pent up emotion inside of you, but eventually you calmed down and were able to stand back up, staggering your way home with the rest of your family.

Some time later when your parents had been arguing in your family kelku you hadn’t been paying attention as your siblings were, all huddled against the wall. You had been lost in your own world once again, not wanting to know what was being said as you were still processing what had happened earlier. You didn’t need anything on top of that as you feared it would make your careful stack of emotions you had constructed come tumbling down.

They had come tumbling down though as your parents announced you were moving, leaving. Leaving everything you had ever known, your home, your grandmother, the forest you loved so much. You couldn’t help it as you cried again, being held by your mother this time.

However as you thought about it you weren’t that sad. You had always liked the water, everyone not having to hear underwater made you feel more included, more like you belonged, and you had heard the Metkayina used sign language. Maybe this would be a chance to make friends for the first time in your life. Maybe you would be able to talk to people for once, nobody at home taking the time to learn American Sign Language, as your father had called it, like your family had.

One thing you hadn't taken into account was that they used a different version of sign language, but that had become very apparent when you first jumped into the water with Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo. They used signs you had never seen before, ones you didn’t recognize. You couldn’t help but feel a little beaten down at dinner, staying quieter than usual, not signing as much.

Afterwards your dad had asked you to step outside, waving a hand towards you as he exited the marui.

He sat down on the pathway, and you knew he expected you to join him, so you did. You sat next to him with your feet dangling in the water, looking out towards the horizon, refusing to look at him so you didn't have to have a conversation.

That didn’t last long though as he poked you in the arm, causing you to look at him offended, mouth open and eyebrows raised. He took this as his chance to speak, “You okay, kid?” He signed.

You sighed deeply, fidgeting with your hands before signing, “I’m okay, dad.”

You could tell he didn’t believe you, lips pressed together in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed, “You’re less talkative. What’s wrong?” He signed, proving he didn’t think you were telling the truth.

A frown came to your face, feeling like it was permanently there after the past few days or so, but you continued, “I’m disappointed.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise and confusion on his face, “About what?”

You looked away from his face, instead choosing to watch his hands, you didn’t want to see the pity on his face, “We don’t speak the same language. I can’t communicate. Everyone else can at least talk to each other.”

His face softened, but you didn’t see it, “It’ll be okay. You’re a fast learner, so you will learn their language quickly, then you can make friends. If anyone actually wants to be your friend.” He meant it playfully, and you saw him laugh, so jammed your elbow in his ribs.

Then the conversation was over, your mom poking her head out of the doorway and saying something to your dad. He just stood up and gave you a look like he was asking, “You good?” and you nodded, “Yes.” back in return.

After your father’s words of encouragement you decided to work harder, learn faster, determined to be able to communicate with the people around you, and a few weeks later you were excelling whereas your siblings were still struggling. They were caught up on the differences of Metkayina sign language versus ASL but you had grasped that there weren’t differences, or similarities, and you would just be learning from scratch.

Even though you were doing well at it, working your way towards being fluent, you were worried about talking to the people, mostly because of one person in particular, Ao’nung. It was as if Ao'nung was determined to ruin your siblings' lives, and yours, but you didn’t know that.

You had seen Ao’nung’s attempts to cause hell for your siblings, nagging at them, laughing at them, and even trying to start fights, with Lo’ak in particular. Him messing with your siblings made you frustrated, but you weren’t aware of the taunts meant to make you upset, and laughing that was meant to make you feel like a target coming towards you from a distance.

The bullying towards your siblings had become more and more frustrating and you had begun showing your anger at home, being rougher with things than usual, and not wanting to go outside of the shared family marui.

It had been peaceful while you and your mom had been working on dinner, but she noticed you seemed to be far off, handling the food with rougher hands, “Are you okay, (Y/n).” Neytiri signed as you placed another fish over the fire.

You rolled your eyes at her, upset she was even insinuating something was wrong. In reality there was, but you didn’t want to admit that, “Yes mama, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She had asked back, concern on her face as she looked at you closely.

You signed, “Yes.” Trying to end the conversation, but you knew she would just keep pushing.

You saw your mom think for a moment, her face scrunching up in concentration, “Well I am not.”

You frowned more, once again feeling like it had always been there since you left the forest, “Not what?”

She was frowning too now, “I’m not sure you’re fine. I see you isolating yourself. Even from me and your father.” She grabbed your hands, squeezing them gently to show her love in a little way.

Tears welled in your eyes, frustrated tears, tears that came because with all the stress recently they were the only way your brain knew how to process, to cope.

You pulled your hands from hers to wipe at them, “I’m sorry.” was all you could say.

She wiped the tears falling down your face before saying, “Why?”

You sniffled, running your hands down your face before signing, “I see Lo’ak, Kiri, and Neteyam being picked on, and there is nothing I can do. I can’t stand up to the bullies. I can’t say anything.”

“Okay, well soon you will be able to say something. You are learning their sign language, yes? I’ve heard from your siblings you are out working them.” She smiled at you and you could really see how proud of you she was.

You couldn’t help but crack a little smile although tears still threatened to fall, “Yes, mama. I’m getting better, but I’m worried it will be too late though.”

“I’m sure you will do your best, my ‘ite.” She thought for a second, “Why don’t you go try to talk to these kids tomorrow?”

You sighed, you didn’t want to, but you knew your mom would nag you until you agreed, “Okay. Love you.”

She smiled lovingly at you, “Love you too.” before pulling you into a hug.

When tomorrow came you didn’t even want to leave your marui, but you found the strength to do so. You did some of the breathing exercises Tsireya had taught you to try to calm your nerves, and they worked for the most part, steadying you and clearing your head.

However as soon as you stepped outside your marui you regretted it, not wanting to do what you had promised to your mother, but you knew you had to eventually. Eventually, which meant you could fool around as long as you wanted beforehand, and so you decided to settle down for a quick nap on the beach.

When you laid down and closed your eyes you quickly and easily fell asleep. You were still tired from last night when you struggled to sleep from your anxious thoughts.

When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was that it's because you couldn’t hear him.

Ao’nung tried to not let anything get to him, especially when it came to people he didn’t like, like the Sullys, but for some reason you, (Y/n) Sully, had peeved him more than anyone or anything else. He had grown tired of you ignoring him when he shouted or laughed at you, like you didn’t even notice he was there, tired of you flat out avoiding him sometimes as you scurried away when he tried to approach you.

Of course he knew why, he had the same intentions to bully you and make you feel unwanted in Awa’atlu as your siblings. Of course you didn’t want this so you spent most of your time avoiding him, but for some reason instead of him not caring about it, it made him want to get under your skin even more.

When the sun rose today he decided today was the day to act. Today he would confront you head on, face to face. He would make you notice him, and he would make you feel awful in the process. So he gathered his friends, his goons, and they set off to find you.

They first checked with Tsireya who was with the rest of your siblings, but you were nowhere to be found, they all insisted they hadn’t seen you. Then they combed the beach, going from one end to the other, and on the far end they found you peacefully asleep on the soft sand.

He couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked asleep and peaceful, but he quickly shook it off, shouting at you, “Wake up, freak!”

He was targeting your extra finger and the hair above your eyebrows, like he had your siblings because he knew that got to them, and hoped it would do the same to you.

When you didn’t stir he tried shouting again, assuming you were awake, but trying to act asleep to avoid him, “What is wrong with you? Do you not care or are you stupid avoiding me?”

His friends laughed at you when you still didn’t move, eyes not cracking open and your breathing staying the same, so he took the next step, trying something physical. He kicked sand up and over you and finally you stirred, sitting straight up and looking around for the source of the sand, and when you saw him your heart dropped, a lump forming in your throat.

“There we go, now you are paying attention.” He snickered.

You tried to read his lips, but he spoke too fast, and you just stayed silent. You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion.

You hesitated for a second, but were about to sign something when he spoke again. “Do you not speak? A silent freak, interesting.” You still didn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but his friends all laughed at you, and although you couldn’t hear it it made you feel small.

“I’m sorry. I can not hear you.” You signed, using Metkayina sign language this time.

He scoffed, “I do not believe that. I think you just don’t want us to bother you, but here we are.” He laughed in your face.

“Please use your hands.” You tried to communicate, but they just wouldn’t listen to you.

“No.” He sneered, this you understood, one single word.

Your mouth dropped open, offense written all over it. You knew he was disrespectful, didn’t care about others feelings, but you would make him care, “I can not hear. I am deaf.”

He was about to retort against you again, but when he had been searching for you earlier that day Neteyam knew he meant trouble, so when he found you he stayed in the shadows, watching, but now Ao’nung had taken it too far.

He surged forwards, anger consuming him, “Step off bro. She can’t hear you.”

“Yeah that is what she just said.” He rolled his eyes, “I do not care though, it is better if she can not hear me. Means I can make fun of her without her knowing.” He signed the last part so you could understand.

You shrunk back, standing to hide behind Neteyam. You tugged on his arm, “It’s okay.” You signed.

“It’s not okay, (Y/n).” He rubbed a hand down his face, turning to Ao’nung, “You need to leave her alone.”

“Whatever.” Ao’nung scoffed before turning and walking away.

Now he knew why you seemed to ignore him, you just didn’t know he was talking to you. You were probably avoiding him because you didn’t know their sign language yet. He felt bad for some reason. He usually wouldn’t feel bad about his bullying but with you it felt different now knowing this.

He couldn’t show his feelings though, worried about his little group making fun of him, but he slowly started to back off of you, and your siblings some as well. Whenever one of his “friends” would ask why, he would reply something like “We can not make fun of a cripple.” and roll his eyes, still a jab at you, but less so.

At some point you became all that consumed his thoughts, on his mind at all times, and whenever he would see you with his sister, or your siblings, he would feel the need to insert himself into the conversation, but he always refrained. He wanted to talk to you, to apologize, but he feared judgment from his “friends” who are just as nasty as he was.

Eventually he couldn’t hold it in anymore, heading to your marui to ask to talk with you, in the way you would understand. When he knocked on the doorway of the family home Lo’ak was the first to notice him, glaring at him and nudging Neteyam in the side, directing his attention towards Ao’nung.

Neteyam stood before either of his parents even noticed the boy in the doorway, stalking over to him and dragging him down the pathway so they could talk, “What do you want?” He hissed out.

Ao’nung cleared his throat, but the words still came out small, nervous, “I came to apologize to (Y/n)...”

“No.” Was all Neteyam said before turning away and starting to walk back into the Sully family’s home.

Ao’nung grabbed his arm before he got too far away, “Please. Please let me talk to her.” He begged, something he didn’t like to do, but it was necessary.

Neteyam sighed, “Fine, but if you do anything I will chop your head off myself.” He threatened the boy, “I’ll go get her.”

It wasn’t long before you stepped out of the marui, a frown on your face and hands he could see shaking, “What do you want?” You signed, hands shaking with nerves.

“I came to say sorry.” He started off, “I’m sorry for bullying you, and your siblings. I promise I won’t do it any more.”

“And?” You asked, knowing there was more.

He looked nervous now, hands shaking as he signed, “I wanted to extend the offer of friendship.”

You looked shocked now, “You want to be friends with me?”

He nodded his head, smiling shyly, “Yes. Absolutely.”

You smiled this time, relieved he would be leaving your siblings alone, and excited to learn more about him, about what he was really like under the bad boy shell, “Okay, friend.”

He just nodded at you, “I have to go now. See you at lessons with Tsireya tomorrow?”

“Of course.” You responded.

When you entered the marui again everyone's eyes were on you, a light blush on your face, “I made a friend.” You smiled.

You could see your parents cheering and clapping for you, but your siblings' faces were unsure, you would have to reassure them later but for now you were all having a family night, playing games and handing out things you had made for each other with the new resources you were getting used to using. They were clunky and awkward, but you would get better, it reminded you of something, of someone.

As days passed into weeks you and Ao’nung had grown closer, him pretty much taking over your lessons, stealing you away from Tsireya who was sad to see you go, but happy for her brother for making a friend, a real friend, not one of his goons that tended to hover around him at all times. You had seemingly broken down his bad boy aesthetic and his goons had since left him, moving onto another leader to follow, still as nasty as ever.

You were grateful for him letting his walls down around you, allowing you to see him, and soon you did. You saw him as more than you ever had before. You couldn’t help but think about courting him, of trading little handmade gifts, and sharing little intimate moments of happiness throughout the day.

It seemed as if he wanted the same as he began bringing you gifts, starting as a little armband he made from you out of hard to find shells he had spent many hours trying to find, then it moved onto necklaces and bracelets. Each was more intricate than the last.

When this started you began to bring him things too, poorly made things because using dried seaweed and palm leaves were different from the materials of the jungle, but you managed. Even though they weren’t the best quality he proudly wore them, gladly accepting every gift you would give.

Everyone had noticed by now, the traded jewelry, the touches that lingered a little too long, and the longing looks when you weren’t together. What baffled people most however was not Ao’nung’s seemingly peaceful side coming out, but the fact that neither of you had officially come out and asked if you were courting.

You were courting, you both knew that, but Ao’nung wanted to put it into words, he wanted to make it official, but he felt the need to fix a couple things first, to get a couple blessings.

So he went to the person he thought would be easiest first, your mom. She had seen you two from afar and already had talked to you about it, encouraging you to pursue him and get what you wanted. She had said she was not Tsahík, but Eywa had shown her signs. So when Ao’nung asked she immediately gave him her blessing, knowing this was something not just he wanted, but something you wanted too.

Then he went to your dad. He was a fierce warrior who commanded respect, and Ao’nung tried his best to be respectful, carefully wording his proposal of courting his daughter. Of course Jake had been hesitant at first, but eventually he caved after Ao’nung had mentioned he already had Neytiri’s blessing.

Finally he went to Neteyam, your twin brother, your best friend since birth. Neteyam was adamantly against it, wanting nothing to do with Ao’nung, and wanting his sister to have nothing to do with him either. He was still on the edge of forgiving Ao’nung, swaying over a cliff where falling meant forgiving Ao’nung for his wrong doings, and when Ao’nung explained his love for you, his intentions to never hurt you and treat you with the respect you deserve Neteyam fell over the cliff, giving the Metkayina boy his blessing.

Once he had gotten their blessings he had invited you to the beach where he had first intentionally seeked you out. You were hesitant to go back there with him, but you gave in, trusting him wholeheartedly.

You love him. You trust him. You see him.

When you got there he pulled you to sit down with him, you both facing each other, and he signed, letting his heart out, letting his feelings show, “I am sorry for any times I have hurt you. I was an ass and a fool, and I wish I had never caused you upset or harm. I am sorry for bullying your siblings too, they did not deserve it, but I was scared by the new people and what they would bring. I now see I should have helped like my sister. I should have been making you feel at home here, not doing the opposite.”

“It’s okay. We’re past that.” You reassured him.

He nodded, continuing, “Now I see how special you are. I see how much you’ve changed me and my views on life. I am grateful for the person you have shaped me into. I am grateful I got the chance to make it up to you. I want to court you. Officially.”

You felt your heart swell, butterflies in your stomach, and you were sure it was showing on your face, “I would love that.”

You moved your hands carefully to cup his face, holding it there as you looked into his eyes, hoping he understood how grateful you were for him too, then you pulled him in, lips brushing against each other before they fully made contact. It was magical, unlike anything you had felt before, and you were happy it was him making you feel this way. So happy, so loved.

When you pulled apart he smiled widely at you, grabbing your hands and giving them a gentle but tight squeeze before using them to say, “I see you. I see you.”

You sign your thoughts from earlier, “I love you, I trust you, I see you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just smiles, and pulls you back in for another kiss, and you feel at peace. You know he is yours, and you are his. You know he will never leave you, and you will never leave him. You know he loves you, and you love him. You know he sees you, and you see him.

Word Bank:

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Kelku (Omatikaya homes)

Metkayina (Ocean Na’vi)

Marui (Metkayina homes)

‘Ite (Daughter)

Awa’atlu (Metkayina village)

Tsahík (Spiritual leader)

Eywa (Na’vi Goddess)

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exhaslo · 4 months

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Puzzle Pieces Ch17 (End)

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15, Ch16

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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It was another beautiful day in the city of Nueva York. The snow was sticking to the ground and the Christmas spirit was in the air. Everyone in the city was doing their last minute Christmas shopping while making sure they had their ingredients for dinner.

You were not shy to being one of those last minute shoppers. It was the day before Christmas and you were panicking about making sure you had everything to make for dinner. You wanted to treat Miguel well since this was going to be your first Christmas together.

It had been two weeks since the incident with Eddie. Miguel had reassured you of his death and even mentioned something about your parents calling off the engagement. As much as you wanted to ask how, you knew that Miguel was always going to take care of you. It was so reassuring to have him by your side.

Humming quietly to yourself as you walked down the aisle of your old job, you smiled spotting the deli. Your former supervisor gave you a wave and motioned you over. As you drew closer, one of the workers placed a ham inside your cart.

"On the house," Your supervisor said. You just smiled,

"T-Thank you!"

Returning to your shopping, you couldn't stop smiling since this was the first time you were enjoying yourself. It did feel slightly weird since you did have a bodyguard. Miguel wanted to make sure that you were always with someone and safe.

Miguel was sure to make you as comfortable as possible. You were the girlfriend to the leader of the strongest mafia in the city. It was a scary thought.

"Do you have a dress for tomorrow night?" Peter asked, wanting to make small talk since you were getting overwhelmed with the amount of people in the store.

"O-Oh, y-yes...L-Lyla and I...went s-shopping for one...Um...D-Do I need t-to bring...anything?" You asked, getting in line. Peter glanced around,

"Just a smile on Miguel's face. I think that will cheer everyone up," Peter said with a chuckle.

You couldn't help but smile as well. You've gotten to know some of Miguel's men and women. They were all really nice people. Nothing from what the movies portrayed. One might think you were insane for getting comfortable with the mafia.

"O-Oh, P-Peter...could we stop by....one more place....please?" You asked. Peter glanced down at you,

"Of course!"

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It was an unusual sight. You were standing in front of a mirror wearing a gorgeous dress. The only issue you were having were your scars. As beautiful as dress was, your scars showed your ugly side. Not even makeup could cover them.

Tears started to well up as you went to grab your sweater. How could you present yourself as Miguel's girlfriend if you looked like this? What were people going to think?

"¿Conejita? (Bunny?), what's wrong?" Miguel asked as he entered the room and saw you crying, "Don't cry, look how beautiful you are!"

"B-But...m-my scars, Miggy," You whimpered. Miguel fixed your hair and pecked your lips,

"Are nothing to be ashamed of, but if you wish to cover them, then I understand." He said and fixed your sweater, "I still love you all the same."

"I...love you too," You sniffed, wiping your tears away, "I...I just don't...want your people...to think...y-you k-know..."

"Whatever they think, they keep to themselves. My people know better than to insult me or you," Miguel whispered, resisting the urge to call you anything but his wife.

"Miggy~" You cooed happily, enjoying these moments.

You glanced at Miguel and squeaked, seeing the lust in his eyes. Before you could protest, Miguel picked you up and placed you on the bed, wanting to hog your beauty all to himself. You whined, afraid of ruining your dress, but Miguel made sure to be careful.

"M-Miguel~ N-No...m-more~ ah~ I-I gotta...s-stand mhm~ f-for the p-party!" You cried out as he bullied his cock into you.

"Just once more, baby. I want everyone to know that you're mine." Miguel hissed as he sucked on your neck.

You arched your back, moaning loudly as Miguel grew rougher with his thrusts. His grip was tight against your hips as his dick rubbed against your sweet spot, causing you to cum. Shaking in pleasure, you whimpered as Miguel kept his pace, painting your insides white.

"M-Miggy," You panted softly. Miguel licked his lips, glancing down at you,

"Just one more, please?"

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Your face was flustered as you held onto Miguel. Your legs were shaky and quite numb, so Miguel had to carry you into the party. It was none the less embarrassing. Plus, your neck was covering with Miguel's love bites.

"T-This is embarrassing," You whispered. Miguel chuckled softly as he entered the Alchemax building,

"It's only for a short while. I usually stay at this party for an hour, the other two hours." He explained and placed you on your feet, "But, if you want to leave early to continue celebrating Christmas-"

"Mhpm!" You huffed your cheeks out, giving a slight glare towards your sex driven boyfriend, "W-We're b-binge watching m-movies remember?" You whined. Miguel couldn't hold back his laugh,

"I know, baby. I can't help but tease." You felt captivated by his smile, "Just stay by my side, okay?"

"O-Okay,"

Everything felt like it was moving so fast. You refused to let go of Miguel, not used to the fancy party life. Alchemax was different and you weren't sure if you liked it yet. The food was fancy and the people seemed snobby. It was no wonder why Miguel wasn't too fond of this job.

The only good thing about this party was that people only paid half a mind to you. Everyone tried to avoid Miguel unless it was a simple introduction. Miguel was the CEO, he had to make his rounds and a small speech.

Sitting a small private table, you smiled as Miguel handed you a small plate of food. He kissed your head and went up to the stage to make his yearly speech. After he was done, the two of you were going to go to his more 'lively' party as Miguel called it.

"Is she dating the boss?"

"Can't be, look at her."

"But those marks-"

"Just a fling. We have a better chance."

Ah, there is was. You hadn't left Miguel's side until now, so you had avoided hearing the whispers about you. Of course, everyone was curious about you. The CEO of their company had brought a girl they had never seen before.

You wanted to tell them that you were Miguel's girlfriend. You wanted to tell them that they were wrong. That they would never stand a chance with Miguel, but you were still afraid. Just because you had gotten comfortable with Miguel, didn't mean that you were ready to confront others yet.

"Please, do enjoy the rest of the night. My wife and I have other matters to attend. I shall see you all in the New Year," Miguel spoke before leaving the stage.

You hadn't even heard his last part, still playing with your sweater sleeves about what those girls said. You didn't even notice Miguel approach you from behind, his arms wrapping around yours.

"You didn't eat. Was the food not to your liking?" He asked. You flinched and shook your head,

"S-Sorry...I um...spaced out." You whispered and scooted closer to him, "A-Are we leaving...?"

"Yes, perhaps you'll like the food there better."

Miguel lifted you up, ignoring your small protests and his staring underlings. He held you close until the two of you arrived at his other party. It was already lively since some of the Peters had gotten a little drunk.

"C-Can I ask-" You giggled lowly, seeing Miguel's slightly annoyed expression, "H-How did you come to hire so many p-people with the s-same name?"

"I don't know. I really don't know," Miguel huffed and watched as his mafia went wild, "Let me get you a pla-"

"THE BOSS'S WIFE WANTS FOOD!" One of the Peter's yelled. You were too focused on Miguel leading to a table to hear the yelling,

"BRING THE QUEEN HER FOOD!"

"FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!"

"What the hell are they going on about now?!" Miguel barked. Lyla came over with Jessica and a few other girls,

"Everyone's excited to finally meet (Y/N). They're bringing her a plate of food now," She said with a grin.

"E-Excited to s-see...me?" You questioned in shock.

"Yea, you're the one who thawed this grumps heart." Jessica hummed while Gwen and Margo snickered to themselves.

Miguel kept his quiet glare since you were enjoying their company. He turned his attention to his drunk underlings who brought you a large enough plate to even feed Miguel. Wondering if he should make his speech now, Miguel waited on you.

He enjoyed the smile on had on your face as you talked to the girls. Your eyes sparkling ever so slightly at the mountain of food. You seemed to be happy here, that's what mattered.

"I'll be right back," Miguel whispered in your ear.

You shivered in delight and pecked his lips, wishing him luck. Miguel groaned lowly, hurrying to the main stage to calm his eager crowd. Oh, how tempting you were still. Miguel was going to make sure to keep on giving all night long.

"Excited to give Miguel your gift tomorrow?" Lyla asked, ignoring Miguel's speech. You felt your cheeks warm up,

"I-I really...r-really hope he likes it."

"He will. Miguel will cherish anything you give him."

"I trust you all to keep this city safe again this year. My wife and I shall lead this family to success-"

"I-I'm just worried...t-that he'll think it's...cheap..."

"Miguel doesn't care about that. Listen to this, his brother gave him a baseball from one of his games and Miguel still has it in a glass case!" Lyla grinned.

"As you've all seen, my wife is quite shy and nervous when it comes to new people, so I expect you all to behave and-"

"O-Oh, yes! M-Miguel told me that story. It's s-super sweet," You cooed, hiding your smile, "S-So...he will like my g-gift~"

"HEIR! HEIR! HEIR!"

"The hell are they yelling now?" Jessica huffed, crossing her arms towards the crowd. You titled your head, drinking some wine,

"Hair?"

"Ignore them," Lyla snickered.

You were still confused, but kept enjoying your meal and drink. Eventually Miguel returned and cozied up to you, claiming that he needs a break already. You laughed at his childishly behavior, but indulged anyway.

After a while, you were tipsy and ready to go home. As ready as you were to sleep, Miguel made sure to keep you up for a few more hours.

Tis was the season of giving after all.

---------

You let out a soft whine as Miguel scooped you up from the bed. He had you wrapped in the blanket, carrying you over to his large living room. You rubbed your eyes, glancing at his beautiful Christmas tree and tons of gifts placed below it.

You gasped at the sight, shocked to see so many presents. Miguel chuckled towards your reaction and placed you down on the couch. He pecked you lips and went to bring some eggnog. You were still in shock, wondering if your gift was going to be good enough again.

"Where would you like to start, Mi pequeño conejita (my little bunny)?" Miguel asked, handing you a mug. You glanced towards him, placing the cup against your lips,

"C-Can I...give y-you your gift...first?" You asked.

Miguel happily agreed if that was your wish. Miguel watched you struggle to grab his present from a hidden spot. You were cute as you struggled to walk. Returning to the couch, you let out an 'oomph' as you fell on Miguel, handing him his present.

"M-Merry Christmas!" You chirped.

Miguel brought you into his embrace, opening the gift with ease. His eyes widen, seeing that you got him a glass Spider figure. Miguel glanced towards you, watching as you touched the spider, opening a small compartment.

"Tadaaa," You chirped. Miguel glanced inside the compartment and chuckled,

"Chocolate hearts? How cute, you can't even tell they were in there."

"I-I've noticed that y-you liked Spiders....y-you know, before I-I knew you were part of the S-Spider mafia. T-The hearts...I um...I wanted to um....r-represent...m-my love...for you." You stuttered, feeling slightly embarrassed now.

"I love it, mi amor (my love)" Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss, "Allow me to give you one special gift first."

You could feel small hearts floating above your head as Miguel kept giving you kisses here and there. He went behind the tree and brought you a medium size gift. Curious, you opened it and saw that Miguel got you a custom made puzzle.

"Let's build it together," He whispered in your ear.

You muffled a whimper as Miguel sat you between his legs. You could feel your heart race as his hands engulfed yours. The two of you were working on a special puzzle together. You were both nervous and excited to see what it will form into.

"Will?" You questioned.

"Keep going,"

A shiver ran down your spine as Miguel kept whispering and kissing your ear. He grabbed your hands, working on the other side of the puzzle now.

"Me?"

"Ten piedad, te voy a devorar si sigues siendo tan linda. (Have mercy, I'm going to devour you if you keep being this cute.)" Miguel groaned.

You bit your lower lip as you kept working on the puzzle. You could feel Miguel's erection already, making you really wonder what the puzzle was. Your eyes started to widen as you saw another word being formed. Miguel then covered your eyes as his hands motioned yours to finish the puzzle.

"Ready?" Miguel moved his hands away from yours eyes.

"Will you m-marry me?" You gasped in awe, then turned to face Miguel, "Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried, tackling him in a hug. Miguel wrapped his arms around you waist, laying against the floor,

"(Y/N), I love you so, so much. I promise to take care of you now and forever," Miguel said with a low hum. This time, you were the one to cover him in kisses,

"M-Miguel, t-thank you so much f-for treating me well. I-I love you so much it hurts! I-I can't wait to be called your wife!"

"Oh? I've been calling you that all night." Miguel chuckled lowly, sliding your panties down, "I thought it was so cute how you didn't hear a single one."

"Y-You were?!"

"Everyone knows that you're my wife," Miguel laughed, sitting back up and kissing you deeply, "And now, you will be."

"Thank you, M-Miguel," You pecked his lips happily. Miguel picked you up, hovering over you on the couch,

"No, thank you, (Y/N)."

Every one is a puzzle just waiting to find their missing pieces. It may take some time and there maybe moments where you think you found the right piece, but patience will reward you in the end. For you will finally find all of your puzzle pieces eventually.

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

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND SUPPORTING THIS STORY!!! I couldn't have done it without all of your love and support! As sad as I am to see this story end, what ends with one, gives life to another!

I have already started on my next story. I present:

Corruption (Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader)

Thank you all again for reading and enjoying my story! I hope to see you all again in my future projects~

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman miguel

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luxxtuxx · 9 months

Text

When They are sick

This Is a Stupid one-off drabble to feed yall because pt 1 for the next multi-part hobie story is killing me

CW: Talk about throwing up, Some characters might be a little ooc

(please send requests of more people! I LOVE HOBIE JUST LIKE YALL BUT LIKE CHANGE IT UP FOR ME)

Miguel:

When He Is Sick:

He refuses and refuses until he ends up passing. You happily sit beside him, washing off his forehead with a cloth as he rests. At first, he thought he had died because the lights above him were all the way up and someone was aiding him. It took him a while but he finally groaned out "Lyla dim the lights, they are killing my eyes" She was quick to dim the lights. It took a week to heal him from his stubbornness. He had refused to take medication until day 5 of being sick

When You Are Sick:

Like him, you were stubborn and pushed through, every day you felt worse and wanted to stay home, but the missions were nonstop. You walked to Miguel's office-like space to ask for a break... You got 2 steps into his office before your body nearly hit the floor, he used his webs to catch you. once he had you in his arms, he whispered to you "Mi querida, What happened?" he felt your face and burning-up forehead. Under Miguel's care, you got better in about two days

Hobie:

When He is Sick:

He becomes a baby, whining and begging for help. He doesn't handle being sick very well. He tries to thank you for taking care of him but ends up throwing up in the trash. He laid in bed, with his top off and in pj shorts, whining about how hot the bed is. You try your best to keep him comfortable. But in his whines, he begs for cuddles and kisses. You obey and don't think much of it as you nurse him back to health

When You Are Sick:

Well, Shit, That little kiss knocked you out the next week. (UNLIKE YOUR PUNK BOYFRIEND YOU WEREN'T A LITTLE BIT-) You pushed and went on mission after mission. By the time you made it home, you had a pounding on your head unable to think in peace. You get your suit off and rush to the bathroom, heaving and puking into the toilet. Hobie heard a noise and came rushing to you, quickly pulling back your hair so you didn't puke on it. He took care of you, he helped you clean up, he feed you soup and put you in your pjs.

Pavitr:

When He is Sick:

He tried to push through it but he struggled, He made it to hq before puking, Everyone was worried and tried to help him out. He said he was fine and tried to go on a mission. He managed about one mission before the sick makes him find you and asks him if you have any sickness medication, you quickly make him some tea, then give him medication. He pretty much was fine, he just needed help getting access to such materials to help him get better

When You Are Sick:

This man does not panic when he sees you sick, He lays you down with ice packs and makes you some tea. He does anything and everything to make you better

Gwen:

When She is Sick:

She cant lie for shit, she knows it. she came to you clutching her stomach whining about being nauseous. You do your best, but keeping her sitting longer than two minutes was so hard. You ended up telling her that is she didn't sit still, you would take her watch and hide it away from her

When You Are Sick:

She does everything to make you comfortable, she lets you wear any of her clothes. she was making sure you were staying in bed. She was so stressed something would go wrong. You went to get up and get a drink, she said no and pushed you on to the bed then go the drink for you. She was trying her best to keep you resting

Miles:

When He is Sick:

This man stayed in his dorm and drew you in his sketchbook over and over again. He took decent care of himself, but when his mom called he became a little mama's boy just for some pasta fazool. He called you afterward and let you know he wasn't feeling well and that he was in his dorm relaxing. You showed up and cuddled up to him because you claim that cuddles make people feel better

When You Are Sick:

He brings you over and he takes care of it for you. He plays music to help you rest, he will tell you spider man stories till you fall asleep, and he will just let you lay in his bed and sleep. He is so gentle and sweet.

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loneamaryllis · 6 months

Text

So I was talking with @racfoam about her Harrymort Muggle AU, specifically this one, and I said I'd write Harry giving Voldemort a blowjob while he holds a knife to her throat.

And I did. Here:

The cold floor bit into her knees, but Harry was more concerned about the edge of the blade that was currently caressing her throat. Cold and sharp, it gently pressed into her skin, meandering up and down, the fine tip of it digging in, then moving on, in a repeating pattern.

Voldemort smiled down at her, his eyes glowing red in the light of the fire roaring in the hearth behind her.

"Good girl," he said, because Harry wasn't fighting, and Harry wasn't running.

No, Harry was kneeling before him, and though she hated every second of it, she was obeying him. She didn't want that knife to sink into her again.

"Undo my belt, Harry."

The knife emphasized the order with a little nudge, the blade rasping across her pulse point. Harry reached for his belt and opened it. The rigid line that was Voldemort's erection was very visible in his dark trousers, the bulge straining against the fabric. Harry really didn't want to be at eye-level with it.

"Take my cock out."

...unfortunately, she didn't have a choice.

She had seen his cock before, but she had never been this close to it, and it had never been erect. It was substantially thick, the shaft red and engorged, the tip nearly purple, and crowned with a small bead of liquid. A small shiver went down her spine, half-disgust, half-dread.

"Wrap your pretty lips around me, darling," Voldemort crooned.

Harry leaned forward and took his cockhead into her mouth. The knife followed, its edge feathering across her skin in another tender caress. Voldemort sighed in pleasure.

She licked at his cock, moving her head a little, hyper-aware that any wrong movement would end in blood. She nearly didn't register the taste of him, a salty, slightly bitter tang, though it did increase in strength when his cock leaked a spurt of pre-come right onto her tongue. A hand slid in her curls, seeking to guide her.

"Like that, yes... take a little more..."

He inched his hips forward, pushing more of his prick into Harry's mouth. She emitted a muffled sound of protest as he kept pressing more and more of his stiff cock past her lips.

"Shh, shh, you can take it..."

He groaned in audible bliss, rocking his hips forward. His cockhead breached her throat, and she gagged around him, spluttering. The knife teased along her jugular, cold, sharp, and in the hand of a man who had currently nearly his entire cock sheathed in her reluctant mouth.

"Mmmm-pphhhh," she said, tears stinging her eyes as Voldemort showed no sign of easing up.

She couldn't even breathe like that. His cock stole her air, stole her composure, stole everything from her, until she was just a trembling girl on her knees, a vessel for his dark perversions.

"You're doing so well," he praised, his hand twisting in her hair, adjusting the angle of her head so his prick lay more heavily on her tongue. "So well, Harry..."

Her vision erupted with black spots. Pressure mounted, her throat fluttered around his breaching cock, and she swore she could feel it throb, could feel Voldemort's excitement and pleasure as he forced her to take his cock.

Finally, his hips drew back, and Harry could breathe. She took a strained inhale through her nose, Voldemort's cock still occupying her mouth. He bared his teeth in a terrifying smile. Harry thought that might have been the smile his victims had seen before he had cut them into little pieces.

"Are you struggling, my dear? Shall I make this easier for you?"

He pumped his cock in shallow thrusts, staying clear of her throat. She moaned around his girth, and she didn't know if she meant to convey gratitude, or if she was protesting still. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and her jaw ached, stretched too wide by Voldemort's massive cock. She moaned again. Perhaps if she moaned enough he would finish fast.

"Keep looking at me, Harry. I want you to look me in the eyes while I fuck your mouth."

She made an effort to maintain eye contact. He groaned, thrusting faster. Between praises (good girl, such a hot mouth, made for me), his breaths came with moans. The knife remained steady at her throat while his hips snapped faster and faster, the sloppy sounds of the blowjob getting louder.

"I'll come down that tight throat," he groaned, the lines of his face tensing up, his mouth thinning.

Harry groaned.

"No? Ah, very well..."

He suddenly pulled out, his glistening cock an inch from Harry's face. The knife pressed up threateningly.

"Then make me come like this.. Use both hands, little bird."

Harry complied, wrapping her hands around his cock and stroking. It glided easily, his erection wet with her saliva. She worked quickly, trying to put an end to this.

"Open your mouth."

When she did, he emitted a low, dark rumble.

"Mmm, yes... I'll come right on that pretty little tongue..."

Two more strokes of her hands on his stiff cock, and cum spurted in thick jets, coating her tongue. She flinched but kept her mouth open. He released more bursts of seed, each one aimed in her mouth, until a heavy pool of cum lay on her tongue.

"Swallow."

His semen slid down her throat. He smiled, the knife shifting up, the tip of it tracing the line of her jaw.

"Thank you, Harry. I know you'd be stunning on your knees, sucking my cock, drinking my cum... and I was right."

#harrymort #muggle au #inspired by rac #female harry potter #old man voldy #smut

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stonersnowyyy · 1 year

Text

I wanna be yours

quick little story about Tallahassee from zombie land, its not necessarily a x reader but it can be goes by town names main characters name is jersey, I dot really have a summer but its about the song I wanna be yours, enjoy <3

Falling in love in the apocalypse wasn't easy, you weren't supposed to love somebody when you never knew if you never knew if you'd ie another day, he fell for her fast, the first day they found her actually, names were to formal to them but calling her by her home town really suited her, Jersey worked well for her, almost to well. he had this need to be by her side and protect her.

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust.

they grew closer during the time they had with her, fighting side by side. staying up late nights while driving, she would fall asleep in the back of the truck with him when they would switch drivers, as time went on Tallahassee really felt something for this girl, he never thought it was possible.

I wanna be your ford cortina, I will never rust.

he saved her one to many times, it was something he felt like he had to do, he couldn't lose her before he got her, being in love was scary but not knowing if the person loved you back or not was scarier, he wasn't the kind of man to let his emotions show, but he was up some nights thinking about it, did she really want him or were they just friends.

if you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot

she loved him more than he would know, she fell for him the minute he got out of the truck when they found her walking the interstate, she felt like she could trust trust him, something about Tallahassee drew her more into him, like a moth to the flame, he was beauty in mortal form, she wanted him to be her's forever.

you call the shots, babe, I just wanna be yours

over the months she tried to amen her feelings more apparent, going out of her way to help him or get him something he needed, Jersey would be first to tend to his wounds, always making sure he's well and taken care of, he would do the same for her, Tallahassee helped her with her aim and taught her more self defence moves.

Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be your's, I wanna be your's

the group started to notice the change in their relationship, the way jersey would take to him and the way Tallahassee would look at her, something about how they acted with each other verses others spoke volumes, they both wanted each other but they were both to scared to scared to make the first move, maybe time would tell.

I wanna be your's, I wanna be your's, I wanna be your's, I wanna be your's,

she almost got bit and that made Tallahassee realize they might not have forever together, he almost turned a cold shoulder to her, he still cared but stopped acting like he was in love, Columbus and Wichita helped Jersey through a lot of stuff since Tallahassee wasn't in her corner like he used to be, Jersey felt foolish, how could someone like Tallahassee love someone so basic like her.

let me be your 'leccy meter, and I'll never run out.

turning a cold shoulder to her felt wrong Tallahassee wanted nothing more then to hold her and tell her it will all be fine, he just wanted to be there for Jersey and live in domestic bliss with her, having a life in the zombie apocalypse was hard but he still wanted to try and have one with her, he just didn't want either of them to be hurt.

let me be the portable heater, that you'll get cold without.

Tallahassee tried to get back to what it used to be but it was hard, her walls were back up, he knew it was his fault he pushed her away, Tallahassee hurt Jersey trying to protect her, he learned two things that day, you can't protect somebody who doesn't want it, and that everything comes with a cost so why not risk it to feel something for once.

I wanna be your setting lotion, hold your hair in deep devotion (how deep).

it all went back to normal one night, they all had drinks at their temporary home, Jersey's true feelings slowly came out, she would lay on Tallahassee a bit more, nuzzled her face into his neck at points and hold eye contact with him with a look she never had before, she had followed him to his room that night.

at least as deep as the Pacific Ocean, now I wanna be your's.

Jersey laid on Tallahassee clearly wanting more than just cuddling but Tallahassee couldn't bring himself to do anything but hold her, he didn't want the women he loved to hook up with him while hammered, Tallahassee wanted a first with her that meant more than sex, he held her that night as they stared at each other, Tallahassee played with her hair till she fell asleep, he fell asleep with Jersey and never felt more in love.

Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be your's.

waking up bids Tallahassee made jersey feel safe, the feeling of him gripping her hips and holding her securely against his chest made her really feel like she was in love, she didn't want it to end, the sweet feeling of bliss, but she didn't know if he felt the same, what if Tallahassee just pushed her away again when he got up.

I wanna be your's, I wanna be your's, wanna be your's, wanna be your's.

when Tallahassee did wake up he just held her and kissed the back of her head, Tallahassee didn't want to leave the bed, he wanted to stay in that moment as long as he could, jersey was the one for him, they never knew if tomorrow was promised and he didn't want to wait anymore, he wanted to call jersey his.

wanna be your's, wanna be your's, wanna be your's.

Tallahassee finally asked Jersey if she would be his and if he could her's, she said yes and they spent that morning laying together both wanting to soak in the bliss, but of course they must stay on the move you can never truly get comfortable, everything felt better now, Columbus had Wichita, Little Rock found comfort in seeing her sister happy, they all had peace, as much peace as they could get.

Wanna be your's, wanna be your's, wanna be your's.

being on the road was always a highlight, Jersey, Tallahassee, Columbus and Wichita spent time singing songs together while driving, making some up or just trying to remember songs the group used to like, it felt like they were truly a family. Jersey never thought she would find what she was looking for in a black truck on the interstate that day but it was.

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner (I wanna be your's) breathing in your dust (I wanna be your's)

they all wanted somewhere to call home, somewhere to feel safe and have relaxing days, not having to stress about the outside world unless they needed food or medical supplies, the started searching threw LA for a place to live they planned to stay together they didn't want to split up, they grew close over the months they spent together.

I wanna be your ford cortina (wanna be your's) I will never rust (wanna be your's).

after finding a home in the hills they all started to settle into a routine and normal life, Jersey and Tallahassee would be the ones to go out and collect supplies, it gave them both a rush they craved, they both wanted the feeling of freedom it brought to walk in a store grab what they want and walk out.

I just wanna be your's (wanna be your's) I just wanna be your's (wanna be your's) I just wanna be your's (wanna be your's)

Tallahassee and jersey had the peace they needed and the love they both craved, finally Tallahassee had someone who matched his energy, jersey finally had a man that let her be herself and not feel a pressure to be a perfect girl, they really were made for each other, Tallahassee had never been happier that he fell in love and stuck with the feeling, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

I hope you guys like it this is my first fic I've posted if you have any feed back or want any more let me know <3

#x reader #tallahassee #zombieland saga #zombie #welcome to zombieland

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jinxthejubilee · 1 year

Text

Venus - We Need to Talk (Again)

Back here again, aren't we? I'm so sorry, but I just can't help myself.

Because I have just discovered that there were plans to reveal not just one, but TWO lost turtles in ROTTMNT, I will discuss the story potential both Venus and Slash could have, should this show ever come back. (Please Nickelodeon, do something right for once and give us this show back-) But I must finish Venus first, before moving on to Slash.

And for those of you who might ask about Jennika, I thought about making her own page to hold out hope that she could make it into the Rise universe, only to come to the tragic realization that it was highly unlikely that she could ever appear in the show, given that Venus and Slash are pretty infamous as characters, and that the creators said that there were 2 missing turtles and not 3. My apologies to all Jennika stans.

Anyway, I did talk about Venus already, yes, but after revisting her backstory from The Next Mutation, I've come to the conclusion that her debut story isn't all bad? Yeah, I can't believe I just said that either.

I'll give the Next Mutation writer's 15-year-old brains credit, the idea that Venus was adopted by someone else and learned ninjutsu/magic is a cool concept, if explored correctly.

Since it's been pretty well-established that Big Mama's assistant was likely going to be revealed as Venus, I have an idea as to how she got there.

Now I could be wrong, but I believe that Big Mama's assistant debuted in Season 2. Whether or not she was just hired or was hiding out until the time was right, who can say.

For those of you who don't know or simply wiped that show from your memory, Venus was raised by Master Chung I, a human martial artist who taught Venus everything he knew.

Chung I died after confronting the Dragon Lord and demanding that he release Splinter. And his last words to Venus were for her to travel to New York City.

Now if I were in charge, I would keep some similarities to this, but obviously take some creative liberties.

In my Rise version of event, Draxum's lab explodes, the boys and Splinter take off, and Venus and Slash are presumed by Draxum to have died.

Instead of Venus' father being a human, I would make him a yokai, who finds her somehow and takes her to the farthest end of the Mystic City.

This father-figure would parallel Splinter in a few ways:

He would simultaneously be responsible, yet neglectful at the same time. The guy would be very much a loner with a tragic past, so while he would take care of Venus physically, her emotionally needs are something he simply can't and would not handle.

He would never leave his home. Granted, it would be hard to do so, as he lives very, very far away from other yokai, but he just refuses to interact with anyone he doesn't have to. But not because he's lazy, it would likely be due to paranoia and his strict moral code to keep his whatever he's keeping secret, safe from everyone.

Less of a father, and more of a master. A total flip from Rise Splinter, who focused more on fatherhood than teaching his sons dangerous martial arts, this guy is "teacher first, father second."

I see him as a cat. Not sure why I went with that, but it was a cool idea I thought of while brainstorming. While Splinter is an overweight, yet agile rat, I imagine Chung I would be a skeletal, agile, and exhausted cat.

I even have a sketch I drew.

Honestly, just think of 2012 Master Splinter for a frame of reference on his personality. He's still wise and knowledgeable, but instead of kind and compassionate, he's grumpy, unwelcoming, and snappy.

Not the greatest upbringing for Venus: living in isolation and rarely going outside, only knowing and living with one person her entire life, training constantly every single day, and being told that her emotions should never interfere with her duty, but she knows that it's the best for her! Poor thing...

So how does this play into how Venus became Big Mama's assistant? Allow me to explain:

The whole reason why Venus' father isolated himself and Venus was because of an ancient prophecy. I haven't worked out all the logistics of the prophecy, but basically he needs to protect that sacred amulet he has around his neck, or the Dragon Lord will rise once more.

Unfortunately, shenanigans happen and the Dragon Lord is awakened, but not at full power. Though he has just enough to kill Chung I.

Heartbroken and determined to stop the Dragon Lord, Venus travels through the Mystic City for any information on another ancient weapon that could destroy the beast once and for all.

This leads to her meeting Big Mama and learning about the Battle Nexus tournaments.

Whether Venus likes Big Mama or not, I haven't decided, but she's honestly just using her to gain battle experience and knowledge on everything going on within the Mystic City and/or the surface.

Depending on when all of this happened, she might have become Big Mama's assistant at least several months to a year prior to the boys being introduced to her in Season 2.

I picture that the big reveal of Venus being their sister would play out a bit similarly to how I discussed previously. I loved looking through everyone's ideas about Venus, and I can say without a doubt, that the amount of fanfare behind ROTTMNT and Venus overall is worth Nickelodeon bringing back this show.

Note: Well! I hope you all enjoyed this! If you read till the end, thank you very much! Please tell me what you think of my ideas, that would be very much appreciated! Until next time with my comments, concerns, and ideas about Slash, have a great day everyone! Byeee! 💗

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winns-stuff · 2 years

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LO RANT:

Alright, today I was going to do an appreciation post for Thanatos’ old design and personality, but when I went to go find some panels of him I came across a few things that irked the hell out of me. Y’all remember that one episode where Hades was showing Persephone around and she said that she was a fury and everything? Almost KISSING might I add. If you remember that I’m glad, and if you don’t it’s okay I’ve got pictures.

One thing I hate about Persephone’s character design and I mean hate with a passion of a thousand fucking suns is how the comic just completely makes her look like a damn innocent child. I can’t post the pictures with the text because I’m still a little fresh with it so I’ll actually have to do two rants.

Oh nevermind I figured it out. Go me! But anyways, look at the damn panel above the text. Persephone does not look like a damn adult in this panel at all, if I showed a random person that I’m sure they’d think she was fucking 15 year old or something! I have no idea why Rachel thought making her small as hell, big eyed, childish, AND emotional was even a good combination! Those are literally traits of a child, and before anyone even opens their mouths to say that “well adults can be like that too!” I KNOW, I’m aware of that but you at least can tell that they’re adults! You don’t even know with this panel.

Also look at the panel below this text. The proportions are so wonky and off. It makes Persephone look so fucking child-like and just REALLY little. I know the same can be said for Meg, but at the same time we don’t know much about Meg and her age. We know that Persephone is supposed to be “an adult” and I just have no idea why Rachel wants her to resemble a child and wants her to be just so naive and impressionable. Hmm, maybe because she’s only 19 and barely even a an adult. Then she’s sheltered too so she could literally be taken advantage of at any given moment. Why did she do all of this? Why can’t Persephone be at least a little mature? She’s supposed to be smart! She’s supposed to be talented and everything, why does Rachel chose not to allow Persephone to truly grow up.

This is also bringing us to my next point. This isn’t the first time that Rachel drew Persephone with childlike features and a curvy body to sexualize. It’s just very uncomfortable to me. And also, I hate how this comic infantilizes her. I know that’s supposed to be the theme of this comic, “grow into your identity” or “prove them wrong” and such, and I would be fine with this if there was actually some development with that. We don’t see Persephone talk back to anyone who infantilizes her and calls her a child, we don’t see her get frustrated with being called that, we don’t see her want to dress herself or anything. We continuously see Persephone being fine with being treated like a child and be handed things. We don’t see her grow tired of it or her wanting to be independent she’s just fine with all of it. So we can’t even say she doesn’t want to be seen as a child because nothing in the comic even says that!

Anyways, this is the end of the first rant although I’m sure (if i’m not passionate about it) that the next rant will be shorter. Like I always say I’m completely and utterly biased so don’t take any of this as fact, and if you enjoy Lore Olympus this is not to shame you in any way, I’m just saying my thoughts and feelings. If you agree, then great! And if you don’t then that’s also great.

#lo critical #anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical

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flutteringphalanges · 2 years

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Summary: The sound of footsteps drew nearer as Hopper and Joyce stared intensely at one another in their holding cell, almost as if trying to burn the image of one other’s face in their mind. His bruised hand found hers and though the mere movement caused him great pain, he squeezed it. “No matter what happens, we’re gonna get out of this. You and me, we’re gonna make it.” She nodded her head, thumb brushing his knuckles. “I know.” But as the door began to open, both secretly wondered if those words would be true.

(In which both Hopper and Joyce find themselves captured by the Russians after the Starcourt incident and trials they must face and endure before finding freedom together).

Rating: M

Relationship: Joyce/Hopper

Read on FFN and Ao3

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: First off, HUGE thanks to @whats-a-terrarium for letting me bounce ideas off of you! You’re a big help haha! Second, thank you all for showing me so much support! It means the world! Okay, here’s the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Two: Hopper

Hopper had only been sixteen when he'd taken his father's red Cadillac for a joyride and crashed it straight into a tree. Even three decades later he could still recall the smell of smoke and the insistent, blaring car horn. Remembered how much it hurt to breathe through cracked ribs. A broken arm, one dislocated shoulder, and a severe concussion had left him unable to do much for days. During that time, he couldn't fathom the idea of ever being in worse shape. The likelihood seemed impossible. How very wrong he'd been.

The hard floor offered no relief to his aching back as Hopper laid there in the dark. Everything hurt. If he were to describe it, it felt as if he'd been struck by a train before being flung into oncoming traffic during rush hour. Not at all pleasant to say the least. He let out a shallow breath, fading in and out of consciousness as every part of him seemed to throb from the beating he went through.

There was only one comfort in this place, a comfort that was equally as miserable. Joyce. Maybe his plan hadn't been the most ideal. But in that plan, Joyce wouldn't have been there. Joyce would've been safe. Joyce wouldn't have been captured and stuck in here with him. Joyce… Pulled from his sleep, he could feel her fingers gently coming through his hair. Smoothing down the mess that it had become. She was humming softly, a tune he didn't recognize. But it was nice. She was nice. His Joyce. Jesus, how could he have let this happen?

"...They're safe…" He mumbled into the quiet softly. Hopper could only hope Joyce could piece his words together and know who he was talking about. The kids. "I promise." There was no proof on his front to offer that. Maybe, he hoped, it was all she needed to hear. "They'll be okay."

Her hand stopped, he really wished it hadn't. "I know."

Joyce's answer was short. Hopper knew she was afraid of who might be listening. He worried too. The KGB were known for their impeccable security-well excluding his, Joyce's, and Murray's success with the destruction of the Key. After that slip up, the Soviets would no doubt be watching them like hawks on prey, taking their every breath as a possible sign of a threat. Hopper turned his head slightly in the direction he thought might hold the door. Even if he wasn't disoriented from the darkness, the likelihood he could've forced himself up and tried to break out was low.

Hopper found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. The air was hot and felt as if a heavy blanket had been laid over him. Suffocating. Feeling Joyce was the only constant reminder that he hadn't died and gone to Hell. Because if he had, she for damn sure wouldn't have been there too. He tried to focus on his breathing and not the agony that his broken body was in. His throat burned for water he wondered if would ever come. One wrong move caused a shock wave of pain skyrocketing up his spine rendering him unable to hold in the moan that came with it. Life was a real shit show right now.

"Hop…"

Joyce's voice sounded distant. Soft. Worried. And Hopper knew her anxiety about his condition was rising. Maybe she feared he'd fall asleep on her and not wake up. Or worse, that he'd just straight up and die now. He inhaled, struggling to pull himself out of the depths of going under.

"Pancakes or waffles?"

His tongue was like sandpaper as he spoke. Such a stupid thing to bring up, but it was the first thing that came to his mind. An easy thought he pulled out without much hesitation. Something lighthearted. Something that made him think of El. What he'd give to hold her in his arms again.

"What?" Joyce asked, sounding confused.

"Pancakes or waffles?" He tried again, trying not to slur. "Pick one."

She paused and Hopper wondered if she thought he'd lost it. "...Pancakes."

Hopper snorted lightly. "Should've guessed."

"Why? What's wrong with pancakes?" And even though he couldn't see her, Hopper knew she was smiling. "Who stepped in and made you the breakfast king?"

"All I'm saying is you are missing out." He closed his eyes for a moment, riding off a dizzy spell. "Waffles are better, just the truth."

It was Joyce's turn to snort. "Hop, I'm not sure if those waffle sundaes you make count."

"Don't knock 'em till you try 'em…" Hopper murmured with a weary smile. "I'll make you some one day. You'll be Team Waffle in the end."

"I'll hold you to that." Joyce replied, her voice beginning to sound far off again. "It's a date."

A date. Enzo's. That thought hadn't crossed his mind until she'd said those words. Twice now their plans had been thwarted. And though he'd been looking forward to some alone time with Joyce, this wasn't what he had pictured. Breadsticks, not beatings. Chianti, not chains. Italian, not Russian. Hopper sighed softly, letting the haze of exhaustion blanket him once more.

"Stay with me, okay?" He heard Joyce say, feeling her hands against him once more. "Promise?"

"Okay." He mumbled quietly, unsure if she had even heard him. "Okay…"

The answer seemed to satisfy Joyce because she let him sleep again after that. Or rather, as best as he could. Maybe if he could just rest for a bit longer, his mind would begin to function enough for him to hatch some sort of idea. Some sort of strategy to get the two of them out of there. Hopper despised this feeling of weakness. Especially in front of her. He was supposed to be protecting her and yet, here he was, a prisoner to his own body. Make her feel safe. That's what he'd told her back at that shithole of a lab. What a fucking joke.

Time passed, however long he was unsure. It was like a fever dream. It was like he was sinking in the quarry back in Hawkins, but no matter how hard he tried to tread through the water, he kept going down. Joyce would tense up at random times leaving Hopper to wonder if it was her way of fighting back sleep. He felt guilty. Ashamed. But as he finally managed to grasp the invisible line of faint consciousness, hoping to muster up the strength to convince her to let him take over so she could rest, the door flew open.

Joyce let out a yelp as four men stormed through the brightly lit entrance and made a beeline straight for him. Hopper felt her fingernails rake against the side of his neck as she was pulled abruptly from his side. His head hit the ground with a thunk as he reached out, weakly gripping onto her ankle as if that would keep her in place. Someone kicked his hand back and he felt something pop in his wrist.

"Hey!" His voice sounded gravelly, strained as he called out to them. "Let her go!"

With every ounce of energy he had left, Hopper forced himself upright. Joyce was struggling in the grip of two guards, both having taken the arm on their respective side. When she looked back at him, he could see the fear beginning to shadow over her brave features. Hopper saw red. As if on instinct, Hopper found a sudden rush of adrenaline and launched himself towards one of the men, knocking off of Joyce and back against the wall. The victory was short lived as the two other men not with her charged forward and forced him back onto the ground. Hopper felt the first boot slam into his rib cage before he had a moment to even register what was happening.

"Stop! Stop it!" But Joyce's desperate cries for mercy were left unheard as they continued to kick him. "Please! You'll kill him! PLEASE!"

There was blood in his mouth. Where it came from, he wasn't sure, but it wasn't good. Through the pain, Hopper tried to focus on Joyce who'd grown blurry in his vision. His ears were ringing and every time he tried to get a good breath in, another kick struck him full force knocking the wind out. At this point, he wasn't sure how much more his body couldn't take. Hell, at this point, maybe he was as good as dead after taking that guard. But he wasn't about to wish himself dead. Not if it meant Joyce would be alone.

"Ostanovka!"

The command cut through the air like a knife. Suddenly, the assault on Hopper ceased. He lay there, heaving as he locked eyes with Joyce. She mouthed something, but he couldn't quite make out what. Before she looked afraid, now she looked terrified. Hopper looked towards where the voice had come from and noticed a fifth man enter.

"Both." The guard said, gesturing with his head to the hall. "Kaptian Barinov's request."

Hopper tried to bite back a grunt as he was hoisted onto his two feet. He stumbled, struggling to hold himself up as his own pair of guards made sure their hold on him was strong. This time, he didn't put up a fight as he found himself being dragged behind Joyce out of the darkness and to whatever hell awaited them next.

Two heavy wooden chairs bolted to the floor each with their own set of arm and leg restraints greeted Hopper and Joyce like old friends. When the guards forced him down into one, he remained stoic even as the metal cuff caused his already swelling wrist great agony. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joyce receiving the similar treatment. Whatever shit happened to him, he could care less about. It was her his heart had begun to pound for.

"Ah, it feels like it has been a lifetime since we last saw each other and yet, it has not."

Barinov. The name was sour on his tongue. Hopper watched as the captain-or whatever the hell he was, entered the room followed by the warden. Melnikov. He noticed Joyce slightly stiffen at the sight of him. His blood began to boil. Whatever the hell he'd done to her, once he figured out how to get them both free, he'd make the asshole wish he was dead.

"I applaud your restraint, Comrade." Milnikov commented, walking closer to get a better look at Hopper. "I was expecting him dead."

"I considered it." Barinov admitted casually. "But there are many ways he can still be of use."

Of use. As if he were multi-purpose. Hopper knew it was a scare tactic. That they were trying to instill fear in him. Whatever they wanted with him, they could have. Joyce was different. He stared forward, not blinking as Milnikov got right in his face. He could've spit. If his body would've let him, lean forward just enough to bang his head right square into the bastard's nose. But he didn't. He waited.

"And such a use would be…" Milnikov questioned, turning to face the captain.

"One that would benefit you the most, Comrade." Barinov said with a genuine smile, making Hopper's skin crawl. "Kamchatka."

The furthest Hopper had ever been from the States was Vietnam. Other than that, he wasn't well traveled. And sure as hell knew nothing about Russia. But even with that lack of knowledge, he knew well enough that this Kamchatka place wasn't some five star resort. Even though he really wanted to, Hopper kept himself from looking over at Joyce. He knew what she was thinking, he didn't need to see it in her eyes.

"He has strength, it would be a shame not to use it up," Barinov continued. "Let him serve the Motherland. Pay for his crimes."

Minikov nodded his head thoughtfully. "And the woman?"

"That I have thought long and hard about." The captain said, turning to Joyce. "Kamchatka is no place for her kind, which is why I have a proposition." His smile, though small, returned. "Allow the American woman to stay with me. Give me the responsibility of handling her."

"NO!" Hopper roared, everyone's eyes suddenly on him. "Over my cold, dead body she goes with you anywhere!"

No. No, no, no…this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. Hopper felt sick, sick like he consumed a carton of milk that expired two months ago. Sick like he'd been on a roller-coaster and his brain had been so rattled it made him nauseated. They couldn't do this. This psychotic asshole couldn't take Joyce-his Joyce away. Not from where he could protect her.

"The decision isn't yours to make." Barinov replied, clearly pleased by Hopper's reaction to the news. "At least you can find some comfort in knowing her life will not at all compare to the hardships you will face. Find good in that."

"I won't let you do this! I won't let you get away with this!" Hopper hissed through clenched teeth, struggling in his restraints. "I'll kill you!"

Barinov cocked his head curiously to one said. "Is that what you want, American? Do you wish to die now? In front of your woman?"

"No!" It was Joyce's turn to cry out. "No! No, please! I'll go with you, I'll do anything! Please, spare him!" Her voice broke as she spoke and the range of emotions Hopper currently felt was indescribable. "I'll go with you…"

The captain clasped his hands together in approval. Hopper could only watch as Joyce was freed from his restraints. She looked at him, so hard it was as if she was trying to burn the memory of him in her mind. All he wanted to do was just grab her. Grab her and hold her tight and never let her go. Hopper pulled at his cuffs as Joyce gave him a watery smile.

"I'll be okay." She promised softly.

"Joyce…" His hoarse voice cracked as he spoke. "Don't…"

"It's okay."

But it wasn't okay. It was Hell. His Hell. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Broken, Hopper could only watch as Barinov's hand settled on the small of Joyce's back, leading her towards the door. Hopper bit down on the inside of his cheek, fighting back the fury and sorrow that swirled around in him. She was gone. She was lost and he couldn't get to her. He didn't even care when Minikov stepped forward with the other guards. Nor when he clenched a fist in the air, ready to strike.

"Welcome to Hell, American."

The blow sent Hopper spirally down into a deep, dark ravine, lost and swallowed by unconsciousness.

A/N: Ostanovka means "stop" in Russian. So now our favorite pairing has been separated from one another. But fret not, they will be in contact...but how and why, you will just have to wait and see. I still haven't decided if chapters will alternate between Hopper's POV and Joyce's, or I will have both in one chapter. Whatever I do, I promise it will not be confusing and will make sense. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It's always amazing to hear your thoughts! Until next chapter! -Jen

#Jopper #Jim Hopper #Joyce Byers #Stranger Things #Hopper x Joyce #Jopper fic #The Light That Breaks Through The Darkness

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missycolorful · 2 years

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This path we carved for ourselves, we do not have to travel it alone

(So... in my current canon-complaint story, there’s a large csandduo scene, that I wanted to get done before Wilbur's stream but didn't. Not that I'm bothered just adding "canon-divergence," more so that I want my work to fit the characters as best as possible. And if csandduo interaction… doesn't go the way I'd like, I'd feel disheartened to go too different a route? idk, brain be weird.

Anyway, this is a very rough draft of that scene I cobbled together, so people can enjoy one interpretation of how the stream might go. I’ll likely still keep it in the story, though knowing me it'll be vastly different from the final project. Again, very rough.

ALL THIS TO SAY. Here’s a 4k c!sandduo drabble about apologies long left unsaid and a father and son trying to fix what is broken, and if everything I wrote about these two is wrong, I will cry but at least I got this out there)

With a slow, eerie creak, the door opened. Phil’s hands stilled from their stitch up work on Tubbo’s winter pants. Something about Tubbo and Tommy fighting over the last batch of cookies they had between them. Said goat hybrid sat on the chair adjacent the couch in a pair of shorts, tapping his knees and rambling about Michael. The spark in his eyes seemed to reignite now that Ranboo was back, their family reunited if not entirely as it was.

With the noise at the door, though, Tubbo’s mouth snapped shut. Phil wondered if Technoblade had returned. He came back from another journey the other day, but left once more shortly after, busy as ever. Phil glanced toward the door and—

Guilt stumbled into his chest when Wilbur tilted his head to walk through the doorway. Of course. Even though Wilbur’s presence in the cabin had been scarce, Phil still offered the cabin as a proper home for him. Yet Wilbur stood stiffly at the corner like a stranger. A tense expression wrinkled his face.

Philza straightened his posture, sitting taller on the couch. Concern etched his brow. “Hey, Wil,” he said. “D’you want something to drink? I-I should have extra snacks lying around if you need—“

“Uh, no, no, I don’t need anything right now. Well,” Wilbur interrupted. His shoulders drew rigid, the posture of a man with business to attend to. “I was sort of hoping to talk to you.”

Phil froze, fingers twitching with the needle and thread.

“Alright, that’s my cue, I’ll be taking that, thank you, Philza!” Tubbo exclaimed all in what felt like one breath, shattering the tension that was thick as steel. He stood up, yanked the cloth from Phil’s grasp, and began to exit the house.

“I, fuckin—Tubbo, I didn’t even finish—“

“And if I get frostbite on my ass, that’ll be the consequences of my actions. Bye!” With a single, curt wave, Tubbo was out the door in seconds, slamming it shut with more force than necessary. Even Wilbur cringed slightly from the sound.

Philza tried to show off his best poker face. Wilbur continued to stand close to the corner, and nothing was being said, so naturally, Philza’s mind liked to wander and assume the worst of this future conversation.

His mind was scattered, but the unsettling feeling was not unfounded. Not after the last time Wilbur and he spoke, though that was more akin to a one-sided shouting match on Wilbur’s part.

“How could you do that?” Wilbur shouted, right in his face, a snarl curling his lips and revealing gritted teeth. “After all he’s done, you just let him out!”

Philza forced himself to keep still, to not recoil at the sudden rise of anger bursting from Wilbur like a prodded balloon. Things had been going swell until Tommy walked in to join the two. The conversation, some way or another, led to Wilbur discovering Phil helped Dream escape prison and forced a frazzled Tommy to deal with his abuser all over again. Phil dragged a calloused hand over his eyes,

“It was... it was just business, like I told Tommy. Technoblade had his own thing to do, and I was just... making sure nothing went wrong.”

“Business? You just let out a criminal ‘cause it’s business?” Wilbur continued, and Tommy stood beside him, awkwardly at that. He never once spoke up. He eyed Wilbur every time his voice rose or he mentioned his name, but otherwise, the boy held no courage to discuss his struggles. “Since when were you buddy buddy with the guy, Philza?”

“We’re not friends,” Phil spat with no hesitation, offended by the notion. “Not like I ever gave a shit ‘bout him.”

“But you still let him out, don’t you understand? You’re responsible for making Tommy afraid for his own life again. You can’t just say you feel bad now, it’s too late. Not after what Dream put Tommy through.”

“Okay, ‘cept I barely know what he's ever done to Tommy,” Phil said, irritation riling like a volcano ready to erupt, but he had to keep it under the surface. He wasn't going to fight against his son; he couldn't. He threw his arms out. "Fuck’s sake, I still barely know shit 'bout a lot of things."

Wilbur shook his head in disbelief, a sickly grin on his face. “Wh-you can't be serious."

"I can't know everything going on in this server, Wil," Phil pressed, shoulders sagging as if to emphasize his exhaustion.

"But I know," Wilbur replied, his voice low. "I've been back a lot less than you have. I know plenty, and I know you made a mistake." He gestured with a finger close to Phil's heart.

"Okay, I'm aware of that now," Phil bit back, voice rising as it inched somewhere between anger and desperation. Because it wasn't fair it wasn't fair...

"But that's the problem. After all this time, you didn't know? Do you really care so little? Or are you playing ignorant, old man?” he asked in a honey-suckle voice that had an acidic exterior. And hearing Wilbur speak to him like that hurt worse than any punch or sting.

“No, it’s that no one fucking tells me anything!” Philza snapped back against his viciously pounding heart. Blood pumped in his ears drums, a cacophony of noise, noise, noise. “How can I help if I’m kept in the dark all the time? What good can I do when I don’t know fuck all about you?!” He clamped his mouth shut before the tides came crashing in, but the damage was done, the sand swallowed by sea. His chest heaved.

The fire in Wilbur's eyes was more like an ember, as opposed to the billowing inferno from a minute ago. He took a moment to respond. “You never asked,” he whispered, the change in his tone threatening to cause whiplash.

Something lodged in Phil’s throat. A million thoughts surged through his brain like lightning striking flat land.

I wanted you to come to me.

I was afraid to.

I didn’t think you’d want me to.

Phil released a long and painful breath. “Y-yeah, you’re right... I-I couldn’t... I didn’t.”

No one said a word. Phil wondered if the world would shatter if a floorboard creaked, or one of the crows made a sound. Wilbur looked down, eyebrows furrowed. Phil was afraid to decipher his expression, so he gripped his chair and stared at the ground.

“I-I-I need to go,” Wilbur hastily said, turning on his heel and throwing the door open. “C’mon, Tommy.”

Tommy didn’t even look back at Philza before following Wilbur through the door, which was slammed shut. The picture above shuddered before going still. Phil collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

It had been over a week since then. Phil didn’t know where his son had gone off to in that time, or who he talked to. Wilbur had been in the midst of seeking redemption and forgiveness when he had thrown open Philza’s door with Tommy lagging behind him. Now he was back, he was alone, and he looked tired.

Did Wilbur learn about Phil’s hand in New L’manberg’s destruction? Or anything else that would break the camel’s back?

It was all coming together, Philza realized. For all he knew, Wilbur was here to rescind his forgiveness toward his father, because it was Phil’s fault, after all. He was here to tell Phil he never wanted to hear from him again. The thoughts crept through his mind for months and never relented, but now Frankenstein's monster was coming alive, but there was no kindness here, only cruelty and truth. Philza would not be okay with it for a long time, but at least the worry about what if's would no longer plague his mind like an illness as to whether his son even wanted him around or not—

“Phil?”

A voice spurred him from his spiraling. Phil flinched, and he sunk back into his body. He grabbed his cane to help himself to his feet. Blue eyes returned to Wilbur. “If you need to talk, we can. You don’t need to stand there the whole time,” he said, whirling around to step into the kitchen. “Go ‘head and sit down, I can grab some wate--“

“I’m leaving.”

Phil’s hand had been on the doorway when he stopped. His grip tightened, hiding the trembling of his fingers. Don’t turn back, don’t look back.

“What’s that?”

“I’m leaving the server. And I'm not really coming back.”

Fuck. Phil glanced over his shoulder. Wilbur’s hands were shoved into his pockets, and he stared directly at Philza with weary eyes. He had the face of a man who had seen several lifetimes.

Did something happen?

Is everything okay?

I just got you back.

Let me help you.

“O-oh,” Phil struggled, leaning heavily onto his cane. “Okay. That’s... you know, maybe it’ll be good for you to... to get away from all this." Phil gestured vaguely into the air before slapping his hand back at his side. "If you think that's best, go out and explore, mate. Has, uh, everything be going good? Wi-with everyone you’re talking to?”

Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, it’s been...” He carded through his hair, and lowered himself onto the couch. The fire cackled right beside him, casting orange shade to the side of his face. “It’s been hard, not gonna lie. But reaching out to everyone was for the best. It helped a lot. I learned a lot, too.”

Phil nodded, hurrying to grab a pair of glasses. He returned and placed two cups of water onto the coffee table. As Phil rounded the table, Wilbur spoke up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Wilbur brought one leg to his chest, leaning his cheek against his arms as they rested on his knee. “Why did you do it? Blow up L’manberg, I mean?”

There was nothing accusatory to his voice, no anger, no disappointment. It sounded like a simply, curious question, like asking someone how they wanted to spend the day. Not asking why someone would commit terrorism.

It didn’t calm the worry seeping into Phil's skin. “Who told you?” he asked, a genuine question as opposed to anything blunt or demanding.

“A few people, actually. Tommy, for example, but th-that’s not what’s important here,” Wilbur made vague gestures with his hands as he spoke. He scratched at his hairline. “I’m asking why you did it.”

He tried so hard to read his son’s tone, but the boy seemed to do well in concealing what lied in his heart. Like he wanted to throw a sucker punch only when it would hit the hardest. But Phil would never be ready for the sudden blow. He sat in the chair closest to Wilbur, his hands clasped in his lap.

“Mate, I… fuck, whatever version of L’manberg you made was not the one I saw. You weren’t there to see th-the…” He gestured weakly with a hand. “How fucked the government was. All these people getting corrupted by greed and shit and-and…” His voice petered off, and he whispered, “And seeing that that country... i-it destroyed you. And I didn’t want that to happen again. That's... that's why, really.”

“I see,” Wilbur muttered, straightening his posture. His eyes drifted toward his hands, buried in the fabric of his worn pants.

“You know, I helped start building it back up. I wanted to help,” Phil continued, thinking back to his first days in the server. The air still tasted like ash, but among the ruins, there was beauty to be found underneath, he just knew. And Phil wanted to seek it, only to later discover the ugly in the cracks and corners. He sighed, a tragic smile playing on his lips. “It just all fell apart. I dunno what happened, but... would you believe me if I told you I did it ‘cause I care?”

“Even if it destroyed the homes of the people who say you care about? Tubbo and Tommy were quite upset by it--”

“Lot of people were hurt by that place. Niki and Ranboo told me themselves. Just… I swear, if you were there, you’d understand,” Phil emphasized, leaning forward, his fingers twitching from how close they were to his son’s hands. How he desperately sought to hold them and never let go. He shook his head. “I’m trying, I really am.”

“Somehow, I understand,” Wilbur said, his voice a touch far away. “Seeing as that was, well, part of my reasons.”

"Is... really?” Phil tried desperately to hold back how desperate he sounded, because that split moment of connection meant more to him than anything else in that moment.

“You see, Phil,” Wilbur’s curls bounced over his eyes when he tilted his head toward his father. He stapled his fingers together. “You destroyed it out of regard for others--perhaps yourself, as well, I can assume. Pretty drastic actions for it, but who am I to critique that? ‘Cause I, too, saw my own country fall into the hands of a tyrant. Just-just the mere existence of that country, the one I built, created tyranny. So I destroyed what had to be destroyed, but…”

“But?” Phil pushed, leaning forward to place a hand on Wilbur’s knee. I’m here I’m right here.

Wilbur leaned back, his guarded expression on full display. A smile tugged at his lips, one that did not meet the exhaustion that sunk his eyes. “Except your wrong. Well, at least about the old L’manberg. The new one, my memories are... faint, happy, but all of Ghostbur’s memories are, so they’re not that helpful. But the thing is, Philza, is that L’manberg didn’t destroy me.” He kicked his leg up to cross it over his other knee, prompting Phil to retract his palm. “I was the bad guy, it was all me, the system I created. I started my own downfall because I was a terrible person who did terrible things. I hurt all those people, and... you were right, when we last spoke. Y-you have no idea how much I’ve done.” And through it all, he smiled, though it wavered the longer he spoke.

“I...” Word abandoned Phil. What was he supposed to say, what could he say he had to say something!!

“I’ve done so much wrong, and I died because that’s how it was supposed to happen. Yet here I am,” Wilbur shook his head, eyes misting over, “sitting across my father, who just… accepted me in his house without question, and all these people I’ve hurt are forgiving me way too easily, and I don’t get it. You all should be afraid of me, fuckin’ hate me, so… why not?” he asked, looking Phil directly in the eye, practically pleading for some semblance of understanding. The walls were tumbling down, his expression completely open, utterly heartbreaking.

And Philza’s face crumbled. He turned away to fight back against another tsunami of emotions that assaulted him. And Wilbur was waiting for him to say something, but now, now he had an idea as to what to say.

Because Wilbur truly was his son, because he had been staring at a version of himself, one still forging his path.

“You know that, uh, I have done some bad things too,” he began, trying to keep everything under control. For now. “I’m a fucked up guy, I’m not perfect--well, none of us are, but… god, you don’t even know the extent of all the shit I’ve done…” His smile faded. “Though you know plenty about what I’ve done here.”

“Like you guys breaking Dream out of jail--god, Phil, that was so fuckin’ stupid--”

“I didn't know," Phil again argued, in vain, so he added, "It’s why I’ve been trying to help Tommy, as a way to apologize. But all that? Would you say I’m a bad guy?”

Wilbur didn’t respond right away, the gears in his head turning. “In someone’s story, perhaps," he said.

“Alright, fair, that’s fair,” Phil conceded, nodding. "I know what it looks like to others, the things I did. I’m not stupid. I must look like the biggest dick.” He pressed a hand against the wrinkled folds of his pants, smoothing the fabric. “But that’s… the world isn’t that simple, never was. Villains, heroes, it’s all in stories, nothing more. At worst, we just do bad things, even if we think we have good reasons.” He glanced out the window, thinking back to the afternoon when he had returneded to this cabin on a day where smoke from what was once L’manberg could still be seen, even from afar.

How there was no feeling of satisfaction or joy or even anger or resentment. There was no catharsis. That would imply Doomsday was to make him feel good, when he wanted to bury everything that trembled inside of him in debris and ash.

“But after everything I’ve done," said Wilbur, again dragging Phil from deeply hidden memories, "my friends forgave me. Shouldn’t they hate me?”

Phil thought about his conversation with Kristin, about cavorting death and about second chances, and he shook his head. “I think it’s why you were given a second chance--”

“But Phil, Dream was just using me against Tommy. That’s the reason he brought me back.”

Philza sneered. Great, another piece to add to the pile that made it really hard to just not find and kill Dream on the spot. “I--well, I’m… I’m talking in the more whole, like, universal way. Fuck Dream, doesn’t matter why he did that. But you came back, and you’re given a chance to work things out with everyone you hurt, because you do care about them. That’s what’s important.

“Wilbur.” Phil stepped forward on weak knees and placed both his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. Wilbur glanced up at him, looking small and younger. “You shouldn’t have died that day. I don’t care if Kristin even says it was supposed to happen. It fucking--I think every day about it, it was so fucked up. You deserved to come back and be alive.”

Wilbur’s jaw dropped, the wrinkles around his eyes emphasizing a deep sadness that twisted Phil’s heart. “But what do I do now, Phil?” he nearly begged. “I’ve gone to almost everyone I want to give forgiveness to, but after that… where does my story go from here?”

"Stories, that's..." Phil’s fingers tightened on his son’s dirty, dirty coat. He needed to give that a good wash later. He sighed. “You just live, mate.”

“But what does that mean?”

Phil’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. Maybe years and years ago, he’d be upfront and tell him that he wanted to give a good answer but couldn’t, and that was that. Because he had been lost and confused and had let eons of survival consume everything about him.

“I don’t know any legit answer, if there’s even one. F-fuck if I know, but...” But the years had made him soft. So his face, too, softened, as he said, his smile pained but honest, “Just... do better than me.” He squeezed Wilbur’s shoulders. “Be better than me, Wilbur. I think you can do that much.”

Wilbur’s lip quivered, and for a brief second, Phil thought oh god, that didn’t help at all.

Until Wilbur rose to his feet and threw his arms around his back, dragging Phil into a strong embrace. With his heart hammering in his chest, Phil scrambled to wrap his arms around his son. Against his shoulder, Wilbur took in a shuddering breath. Philza fell silent, at a loss for words. All he knew what to do was refuse to let go of his son, never again. Then...

“I’m sorry, Phil,” Wilbur muttered into Phil’s shoulder.

Phil adjusted himself to pull Wilbur back, as he assessed what was going on. Confusion swamped his mind. After all, Wilbur said he had asked for forgiveness from almost everyone he wanted, but… no, that didn’t make sense. Heavy stones sat in Phil’s gut.

“Mate, I...” He scoffed. “Sorry, but what’re you apologizing to me for?”

Wilbur’s eyes furrowed. “Huh?”

“I’m just, that's not how..." Phil shook his head. "I-I killed you. That literally gives you a free pass in-in not needing to apologize. I…” He tried to pass off a laugh, but it was weak. “I don’t even know why you’d apologize.”

Wilbur considered for a moment, arms crossed. “Y’know, for a bit there, in limbo… there was a time where I wasn’t… happy with what happened. What you did. I… I think I hated you.” Blue eyes met brown, and honesty carved every feature of his face.

Phil nodded, gulping back the bile in his throat. “And you have every right to--”

“But now, Phil?” Wilbur straightened his posture and stared down at his hands, like they were stained with uncleansed blood of the past. “Being brought back and seeing what I had done to everyone, including you--”

“Wilbur, I hurt you,” Phil emphasized hurriedly, and he didn’t want to fight his son on this, but if Wilbur truly wanted to insist on it, then he’d gladly rage into war. It was better than this! “I should be the one apologizing, not you." His body sagged, and he clasped his hands onto Wilbur's wrists. "Because I am sorry. I carried that grief with me every fuckin’ day, because I promised I’d do anything to get you back. C-couldn’t even do that, though… I fucked up, and my mistake fucked you over, too.” He brushed a hand over his face, feeling the burn of tears against his eyes,. “And I-I’m sorry for that, but I’m not letting you apologize for dying.”

Wilbur blew air through his nostrils. “That’s not fair, Phil!” he exclaimed, stepping back and throwing his arms out. “You tell me to go out and apologize to people, and everyone knows I’ve done terrible things and treated them horribly. And now you’re telling me what I can’t apologize abo-“

“That’s not...That’s not the point.” Phil sighed, digging his fingers between his eyes. The heavy weight of the conversation dragged over his back, threatening to pull him under. He reached over for his cane before his legs betrayed him. "What reason could--"

Once he gathered himself, his eyes locked on Wilbur, whose attention was directed at something beside Phil. More specifically, to his right, where his tattered wing twitched against the floorboard. The distance in deep brown eyes reflected how far into the past Wilbur was drifting as his focus sharpened on matted feathers.

“Wilbur,” Phil said, voice stern but not cruel. Determined. Wilbur's eyes were glazed over when his gaze returned to his father. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Wilbur’s eyes fell shut, and he took a long and steady breath. He dragged both hands through messy brown curls, locking his hands together atop his head. When he opened his eyes, they were stone cold. “Did you know after my talk with Fundy he threw himself off a cliff?”

“What?” Horror washed over Phil like a freezing tidal wave.

“Yup.” Wilbur slapped his palms over his legs. “Jumped right off. He’s still around, but… did it right in front of me. He was just that sick of me.” He smiled, though the tears in his eyes said enough.

“Christ, Wil--“

“But that’s when I realized,” Wilbur's voice fell so quiet, Phil just barely managed to catch it. He folded his arms across his chest again. "That… there is nothing worse than watching your son kill himself. And he didn’t even put a sword in my hand; he just… jumped. B-but I forced you into this position, asked you to kill me. Isn’t that horrible?” He blinked at his father with eyes that were staring far away, where the memories were firmly stored, never to be forgotten.

Phil thought about that moment, and how in that moment, when Wilbur shoved the sword into his shaking hands, the world felt small and condensed, a tragic thing for someone who didn’t do well with tight spaces. How his throat tightened, because he had no idea how to handle that kind of situation, he didn’t know the right thing to say. How mind was spinning, his back was horrifically numb, and the world was screeching and loud against his eardrums...

And he killed his son.

A particularly hard breath caught in Phil's throat. “Well, isn’t it horrible that I listened? I--why the fuck--” His hands clenched, tense before he dragged them across his face. He coughed out a bitter sigh. “I can’t answer that, Wil.”

Wilbur deliberated, then looked back down at his hands, at the grime in his fingernails and the dust in the carves of his palms. “I’ve come to understand that forgiveness isn’t just about me, it’s about... the person I’m asking to forgive me. Gives them closure, o-or at least it can. Might not always, but… they can heal and move on, rather than sit in the damage I’ve done.” His head tilted back up, hands still splayed right by his chest. “You said you want me to live, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“We both hurt each other, and we both did stupid shit, but… if you forgive me, if I’m allowed to live,” he said, pointing to himself, and when he spoke again, he poked Phil gingerly in the chest, “so are you.”

“... You know I’d forgive you in a heartbeat. For anything, no holds bar.” The weight of the words, their honesty and depth and love, threatened to crush the world and kill all in its wake. His eyes felt damp, and he hurried to brush the tears away. His hands were shaking. How long had they been like this?

“And I forgive you, Phil, I really do,” Wilbur said, unaware of how Phil’s heart leapt against his chest because this was too good to be true. He ducked his head, curls hiding the top half of his face. “You know, someone told me that, after he gave me his forgiveness, I had one other person--besides you, mind you--I had to forgive. That being myself. And I’m still not…" He sighed, his body dragging with the rhythm of his exhale. "I have no idea how to do that, but... I’m gonna get there.”

Phil began to hesitate, ready to sit back on the sidelines, but realized he didn’t need to. “Can I join you?”

Wilbur peeked over, side eyeing Philza with a small smile. “I’d rather you did.”

“Gods,” Phil let out an awkward laugh, more out of feeling the stress roll of his back than anything else, “when did you get so smart?”

“Don’t give me any credit, someone else smacked me with a load of truth earlier. Really made me open my eyes.” Wil's focus fell toward the window, where a bunch of blond curls suddenly disappeared from view. “And talking to everyone else, too. It really helped, actually. Thank you, Phil.”

That broke the dam, and the tears were thick as they overwhelmed him.

Wilbur reached out into a drawer in one of the chests and retrieved a box of tissues. He offered it to Philza, a playful smile on his lips. “Never seen you cry this hard, Philza. Gone soft on me since I was gone?”

Phil snickered, wiping the tears off his face. “Oh, I’ve been a fuckin’ softie for a while now; you just never noticed. Have been since you came around, to be honest.”

“Oh,” Wilbur muttered, his face calming. He grinned, his hands tugging into his coat pockets once more. “Guess everything’s my fault then. Sorry about that, too,” he added, though Phil had trouble distinguishing whether the apology was genuine or a mere tease.

“Ah, shut up,” Phil said regardless, tossing aside the tissue box. “‘S a good thing. You can’t help that you made me feel human. For the first time, like, ever.” He shrugged.

“R-really?”

“Oh, ‘course.”

“And I’m assuming that’s a good thing?”

“I’m still working on it, but it’s pretty good if I do say so myself.”

#philza #wilbur soot #c!sandduo #dsmp fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #c!wilbur #sand duo

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margridarnauds · 1 year

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What do you think of Chartres in the drama Marie Antoinette?

So, I still haven't watched the show, so I want that on the record. My opinions are formed purely based off of what I'm hearing; if you ask me after I have the time to watch the whole thing, you might get a very different opinion out of me.

That being said. Well. The lovely thing about being a Philippe fan is that you get used to...everything. Like, I'm totally numb at this point. I read Innocent, there's nothing that can shock me as far as Philippe portrayals. It's physically impossible to shock me, I've seen it all. Every horrible thing you can imagine Philippe doing, I've seen him do on either page or screen, which is impressive when you consider that he doesn't get that many media portrayals.

(VERY long discussion incoming where I touch on rape and rape culture, underage sex, and sexual harassment. Fun times.)

But. Well. It's more of the same, isn't it? The Duc d'Inceléans is upset when the woman he is obsessed with rejects him, throws a tantrum, and joins the revolutionaries, going fully Frollo on her. I wish that people would stop resorting to cheap drama re: him and Antoinette -- their dynamic was so much more complex than just obsession and lust. It was the sort of relationship where...you desperately WISH that things could have been different between them, that they could have remained friends, or reconciled after their falling out, that she could have negotiated a truce between him and Louis before things got so ugly, but you also know that their natures just...they were both strikingly alike in the worst ways (and both of them would HATE that I'm saying this now.) When they were young, that similarity drew them to one another -- they were both young people who didn't really care for convention, with a taste for excitement and balls and parties.

But then they got older, they got more jaded, and that similarity came back to bite them hard in that neither one of them were of a particularly forgiving temperament. They were both loyal to the people who they were close to, even in defiance of any sense of propriety. If you were in their inner circle, you were *in*. But if you did something to ruin that trust, you wouldn't be forgiven. And, as they got older, and the Revolution ate away at them, that paranoia, it became much easier to commit an unforgiveable slight. (Would Orléans, at the beginning of the Revolution, have had an argument with Grace Dalrymple Elliot that left both of them distressed? Would he have tossed his wife out of Palais Royal with only the clothes on her back? Would Antoinette have had a falling out with the Comte d'Artois, her friend since her first days at court? Would she have been heard commenting on her frustration with the émigres? It isn't to say that either of them were even entirely WRONG, or that these things wouldn't have annoyed them...though Orléans snapped harder as time went on, see above re: his wife...rather that things that might have led to a minor tiff a few years back led to friendship destroying falling outs in 1792-1793.) There came a certain point, probably after Ouessant though definitely by 1787-1788, where they'd just hit a point of no return with one another. They'd circle around one another, toy with the idea of playing nice, but they just...couldn't. It wasn't in their natures, even if it was in their own best interests.

And I don't want to be a fatalist, but a part of me wonders if they weren't kind of destined to be at odds. Orléans was born into having an uneasy relationship with Antoinette's husband, who she did love. He'd have always been a revolutionary at heart -- Even had he been on good terms with her and Louis, something tells me he'd have always taken up with the Revolution, even though spite was absolutely a factor in his part there. The thing that you get the feeling of with Philippe is that...he had compassion. We have stories of him pulling his valet from the water when he nearly drowned, of going into mines to see the circumstances the miners were working in, of him, even as a child, giving money to veterans and the poor. And he wasn't a man to sit on the sidelines and stick to the proscribed ideas of aristocratic charity. If there's one word I associate with Philippe, it's *action*. Not political action, which he failed miserably in, as Mirabeau complained bitterly about when Philippe left for England and basically sabotaged his own chance for success, but physical action. The man HAD to be on the spot, he had to be doing something. It wasn't in his nature to lounge around. In some ways, he never gave up being the Duc d'Orléans, don't get me wrong on that -- he was a man who was very used to having certain privileges due to his station. But I also don't think that he would have sat by during the Revolution.

And what I'm getting at here is that the show doesn't get into any of that. Instead, we get an attempted sexual assault. Because Antoinette hasn't had enough of that in this show. I've noticed that people often want Antoinette to have endured more trauma than she actually did historically -- it's bizarrely common to have her be sexually assaulted and...look. The woman was already under enormous pressure to have sex at 14-15 years old, in a foreign country, without her family around her. She was subjected to public mockery, constantly surrounded by people scheming against her and who were willing to find fault with her for the slightest breach of etiquette. She lost two children, had a miscarriage, watched her remaining children being taken away, and that's before you get into her actual imprisonment. It isn't to say she's a martyr, it isn't to say she's a saint, but it is to say that her life doesn't need more trauma. Why do we keep insisting that we need to see her be raped, harassed, or assaulted on camera in order to get that Her Life Occasionally Sucked? It's cheap, it's voyeuristic, and it does her and Philippe both a disservice.

Would Philippe have gone for Antoinette? I don't know. There was about a seven year or so age gap between them. When Antoinette came to Versailles, he'd have been about 21-22 to her 14. During their falling out over Ouessant, she was 23, he was 30. Agnes du Buffon became Philippe's mistress when she was 26; de Genlis about 27; Elliott about 30. The man seemed to prefer, at least for steady mistresses as opposed to brief flings, intelligent, well-read women who were at least in their mid-twenties. He didn't like young girls. Not to say he couldn't surprise me; I try to always work with him with the understanding that he lived two hundred fifty years ago -- He's not my friend, I don't know him. But from the pattern...I'd say no.

Madame Campan had this to say about their dynamic:

[transcript: "The Duc d'Orléans, then Duc de Chartres, was among those who accompanied the young Queen in her nocturnal ramble: he appeared very attentive to her at this epoch; but it was the only moment of his life in which there was any advance towards intimacy between the Queen and himself. The King disliked the character of the Duc de Chartres, and the Queen always excluded him from her private society. It is therefore without the slightest foundation that some writers have attributed to feelings of jealousy or wounded self-love the hatred which he displayed towards the Queen during the latter years of their existence.]

She had no reason to lie and every reason to make Philippe as horrible as could be (and didn't hold off on ripping, for example, Lauzon.) Why hold back? If Philippe had ever behaved improperly, why not write it down?

One time where do see him in a case where a woman turned him down was with Moll Benwell, where we see:

[Transcript: The Duc de Chartres has made himself extremely ridiculous on her account, following her to all public places; to the contempt with which she treats him and his promises (which that nobleman is but too apt to make) she may attribute his constant attendance on her] (From: An Infamous Mistress: The Life, Loves and Family of the Celebrated Grace Dalrymple Elliott)

He followed her around pathetically, which would have to have been annoying. I wish we knew more of her perspective on this sort of thing. But this is...relatively par for the expected course of behavior. See also: the romantic treatment of Artois' stalking of Louise de Polastron, which appears to have been an innovation of her cousin's reminisces because according to Artois' own correspondence, she was his mistress by 1789. This was an expected part of courtship in the 18th century, there was an idea of how far you could and couldn't go, and Philippe seems to have stuck to that. (The entire thing reminds me of Baby It's Cold Outside Discourse, where someone once said something like "in a society where you can't say openly say yes, you also can't say no.") The memoirs of Leonard, ostensibly by Marie Antoinette's hairdresser, show him having a thing for Rose Bertin and being aggressive towards her -- that book was published eighteen years after Leonard's death and its authenticity has been widely called into question. Am I saying it's impossible? Absolutely not. Philippe was a powerful man. It'd be very easy to develop a sense of entitlement. If any solid evidence comes up, I won't defend him. What I AM saying is that there is no evidence of it when both sides of the Revolution, at varying times, wanted every ounce of dirt they could get on him. (Unlike with Danton, where Elisabeth de Bas admitted that he had preyed on her.)

It's just...it's cheap. People want Philippe to be a Villain™ but they don't want to put the effort in to explain how he becomes one or how his villainy functions, so they just make him a misogynistic incel and call it a day.

#louis philippe joseph d'orléans #canal+ marie antoinette

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pheita · 2 years

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Dimensional Tides Part 33

The plot thickens, my dear readers. There is no turning back now. Tagging @ashen-crest @adie-dee @abalonetea @cometkov @chris-the-dragonslayer @contes-de-rheio @kainablue @viskafrer @vivian-is-writing

Dreamily, Miada watched Sykova check the last items. Right next to him sat Fenor and Bayeen, who were checking their own records. The planned two days had already turned into three, and none of them had been home during that time. Every single scientist was gripped by the fire of the new achievements. "That's enough, everyone," Casimerin spoke from the center of the room. Everyone looked abruptly over at him. He looked no less done in than anyone else. "Is something wrong?" asked Gavani from the side. "Yes, we all need a break. It's taken us decades, it can wait a few more days. We all need a hot bath, some proper food, and most of all, sleep." As if on cue, someone somewhere yawned loudly. "But...", Cindarin wanted to say something, but Casimerin cut her off with a warning look. "No buts. We're ALL going home. I don't want to see anyone here until noon tomorrow. Preferably even later." Silence fell over the lab. Time stretched out, and then the clink of a pencil falling on one of the metal tables sounded. "Banned for at least 36 hours?" asked Tahyrell as a precaution. "At least." No sooner had Casimerin confirmed it, busyness came to the group. Sykova's laughter drew Miada's attention back to him.

"Basically, our boss is a big soft cookie." "Don't say that too loud," Bayeen chuckled and began to gather everything together. One by one, they all got ready for the necessary long end of the day. They were almost out of the lab when Sykova's phone went off. The initial confusion faded as he smiled. "This is Lavynara. She asked if we had any plans for tomorrow." "I think we are now." Curious, Bayeen stretched. "Who is meant by we?" "I think all of us, including you. Provided you feel like surviving overzealous fox cubs." "The pups can't be any worse than you." Only the amused twinkle in Fenor's eyes showed he was joking. "So we're all in. I think the more adults, the better." The questioning look from all three that Miada got in return made her laugh out loud. "What, we're still better than those hyperactive triplets that call themselves his siblings. Even for kids, they have too much energy." "Who has too much energy?" Vivalka had snuck up behind him and leaned on Miada's shoulder. "Syo's siblings." "Oh, the little whirlwinds. You were worse." "I was only one, though. That's three of a kind." "You're right again." Laughing, the group began to move. Without giving it a second thought, almost all the scientists collectively left the lab and strolled across the grounds of the institute. It was strange to see so few people on the road, but it happened. However, when they reached the street it became stranger and stranger. The question marks were almost visible overhead as everyone looked at each other in confusion. There were almost only fox demons to be seen, and many of them were looking at the group just as confused. "I forgot all about that..." muttered Cindarin thoughtfully. "The messages..." Sykova had added quietly, but he might as well have been shouting. The total of four days they had all been holed up in the lab had left visible marks on the company. Someone put his hands on Miada's shoulder. She leaned back a little to see who it was and looked at Gavani with a sullen look and compressed lips. "Soon." She didn't have to say more. Miada looked to Sykova. Judging from his stony look, he had the same thought. It was only a matter of days, if not hours, before they would leave everything behind. Even more than before, Miada was glad that they had prepared everything with Gavani and Casimerin on the side during the last days. If they had to, Miada, Sykova, Fenor and Bayeen could make the transition to the other dimension within an hour, and looking around her, there was a fear that that was exactly what was going to happen.

#writblr #writiing #sojan #miada #dimensional tides #part 33 #fantasy

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sp1resong · 2 years

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woe spiral!sol writing be upon ye

this is somewhat old but. i'm still fairly proud of it! and i thought i may as well post it here

cw for uhhh spiral-typical weirdness,, i'm not sure what to tag this as specifically

Hollypaw walked through the trees. She’d scented something over here, something that definitely wasn’t supposed to be there. Logically she knew she should probably bring a patrol with her, in case whatever it was turned out to be dangerous, but what if it went away by the time she got back to camp? What if she never found out what it was? She had to know, and she wasn’t going to risk being unable to do so.

She sniffed the air again. The scent was stronger here—she was going the right way. It smelled like lies and fractals and colors that did not exist, none of which were things that should have scents.

This did nothing to scare her off. If anything, it just made her more curious.

She continued walking. The scent was almost overpowering now, and yet she still saw no sign of whatever had left it.

She stopped, letting out a frustrated growl, before freezing as she heard something behind her.

She turned, slowly, to see something that was not a cat.

It had calico fur that curled into an almost-glowing yellow spiral on its back. She did not know how she could see its back—she was facing it head-on. Its claws were far too long and sharp, if they were its claws at all and not just horrific twisted extensions of its paws. It had mesmerizing yellow eyes that, on second thought, might not have been yellow after all. Its colors were all wrong, hurting Hollypaw’s eyes. As she watched, it smiled. It had far too many teeth and didn’t fit its face.

“Who are you!?” Hollypaw demanded, fur bristling defensively.

“’What are you’ would be a far, far better question,” it purred. “If I can be said to be at all.”

“Fine! What are you, then!?” Hollypaw hissed, aware that she did not look at all threatening.

“I am many things. I am That Which Lies, That Which Isn’t.” It paused. “Once there was a cat named Sol.” It was tapping its claws, or perhaps its tail, on the ground. The sound ricocheted around Hollypaw’s mind, knocking everything out of place and making it impossible to think. “He was raised on stories of cats that flew and fought and leapt from cloud to cloud. They were the only thing that made his life worth living, for a time. Even as his mother abandoned him on a Twoleg’s doorstep and the fog drew closer, he clung onto these stories like a lifeline. So, when given the opportunity to join a Clan in a massive, distant gorge, he said yes. Of course he said yes.”

“But the leader, a cat named Leafstar, believed that Sol was unfit for Clan life. That he did not belong, that he did not have the skills needed to survive in the wild. And perhaps he didn’t, but he wanted so, so badly to be a warrior, to live as one of the legendary cats he’d been raised on stories of. He tried so very hard to prove his worth, to show that he deserved his place as a warrior.”

“But it wasn’t meant to be. One day, he wandered too far, or perhaps too close, trying to prove himself. He got lost. And here I am.”

“So—you’re Sol?” Hollypaw asked, mentally shaking off the grip its story had (for some reason) held her in.

“That is a name.” It—Sol—watched her from where it was lounging on a rock that probably hadn’t been there earlier. Sometime during the story, its eyes had turned an indescribable color.

“I—alright then. What are you doing on ThunderClan territory?” Hollypaw hissed.

Sol looked amused. “Oh, little Eye, that will not work on me. I am of lies and confusion. Not even your patron can wrangle me into some semblance of truth.”

Hollypaw sighed, deigning to ignore the implications of that statement. “You’re still not allowed to be here.”

“I disagree.” Sol smiled.

Hollypaw was getting thoroughly tired of Sol’s entire deal. “You know what? I’m just going to leave. You’re clearly going to tell me nothing of use.”

“Alright, then.” Sol shifted position to lay on its back, head hanging off the rock-that-wasn’t-there so that it was looking at her upside down. It didn’t break eye contact, still smiling. “Although, little Eye, who is to say what is and isn’t useful? You, of all cats, should know that every bit of information is important. A time of great darkness is coming. Water washes away blood, and you all may be swept away in the deluge.”

“What does—” Hollypaw began, but before she could finish, Sol was gone, vanishing into some sort of door that wasn’t there. Hollypaw did not know how it opened it, or even how she knew what a door was. Not that it really mattered.

She sighed, turning around to head back to camp. Its ominous words still echoed in her head. She’d have to ask Jaypaw to help her try and decipher their meaning.

#btw i imagine its voice as like #some combination of michael distortion's voice and yellowfang's from the old oots audiobooks #warrior cats #tma #warriors/tma au #spire writes #hollyleaf #sol wc #wc sol #ask to tag

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coolstorysister · 2 months

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lyric starters 25

Take my hand if you can take me as I am.

If you can love me, that's enough.

That's enough!

Don't slip away before the dawn.

Everybody needs someone.

I'll be here waiting.

I've always been so close to you.

You wanna talk about suffering?

Maybe sympathy is all you're really hungry for.

You may be victimized, but you're still the one who won't just get up off the ground.

I used to be as innocent as you.

My excuses ran out.

You want to be more hurt than me!

The show is over.

You can go pack up and leave.

Lean a little closer.

I can show you what I see.

We could be together.

I can be your lover.

She'll never know.

I'm not that bold.

I know, I know.

I said I'm sorry!

Don't forget about me.

I know it's all my fault for falling fo you.

Are you feeling the same?

I can't stop these thoughts.

I'm going insane!

It might be better to run away.

I might upset her.

I never felt so alone.

What if you and this never existed?

I'm sick.

I'm dying somewhere in the dark.

The whole world would fall apart.

I thought you were my new best friend. Wish I knew better then.

Who knew you were just out to get me?

My whole world just fell apart.

I could never be more alone than when I ain't got you here.

I'm still alive.

I don't wanna just survive.

Went to hell, but I'm back and I'm breathing.

I made a choice and drew a hard line.

Let the fire catch.

Somebody turned on the light.

I'm not afraid to open up my eyes.

You could never know what it's like.

There's a cold, lonely light that shines from you.

You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use.

Did you think this fool could never win?

Well look at me, I'm coming back again!

I'm still standing better than I ever did.

I'm still standing after all this time.

I'm still standing.

You labeled me, I'll label you.

What, do you own the world?

Now, somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep...

We lose ourselves, but we find it all.

We are the ones that wanna play.

Always wanna go but you never wanna stay.

We are the ones that wanna choose.

Always wanna play but you never wanna lose.

Say your prayers, little one.

Don't forget, my son.

Sleep with one eye open.

Take my hand.

Something's wrong.

Shut the light!

Now I lay me down to sleep. Pray the lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, pray the lord my soul to take.

Hush little baby, don't say a word.

Never mind that noise you heard.

Hello there, the angel from my nightmare.

We can live like Jack and Sally if we want.

We'll have Halloween on Christmas.

We'll wish this never ends.

I miss you.

Where are you?

I'm so sorry.

I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight.

I need somebody.

This sick, strange darkness comes creeping on.

As I stared, I counted the webs from all the spiders.

Will you come home?

Don't waste your time on me.

You're already the voice inside my head.

We hurt ourselves for fun.

What I wanna know is how we got this stressed out?

Everything is going dark...

Nothing makes me sadder than my head.

I'm running out of teardrops.

Let it hurt till it stops.

I can't keep my grip!

I'm slipping away from me.

Oh god, everything is so fucked!

I can't feel a thing.

The emptiness is heavier than you think.

Guess you know how it feels ot be alone.

I'm my own antichrist.

It's just that time of year always.

There's comfort in the sadness.

No one's gonna miss you like I do.

It's too late to know now.

No one's gonna know you like I do.

You're always on my mind.

It's hard to explain.

Has it been this way always?

You know my body more than most.

We only talk in tongues.

You suck the air from my lungs.

rainbow

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aeoki · 5 months

Text

Phantom Airship - Beyond the Imaginary: Chapter 1

Location: ES Sky Garden Characters: Sora, Hiiro, Aira & Tatsumi

TL Note:

In Japanese, the phrase Aira used for “doesn’t count” (ノーカン / “no-kan”) is a borrowed word from English (“no count”). This is a new word/phrase for Hiiro so he doesn’t know what it means.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< The next day. ES Sky Garden. >

Hiiro: …………

Tatsumi: The weather is beautiful today, Hiiro-san. But are you looking up at the sky because you feel melancholic and homesick?

Some people went home on their off days at Seisou Hall as well. You haven’t been back home in half a year, right?

Hiiro: …Yeah. But at home, I talked with my older brother on a “device”. If I had to say, I suppose I feel absentminded after “SS” ended.

Tatsumi: Hmm. “SS” Burnout Syndrome, I take it. Now that you mention it, I also felt somewhat out of things ever since the new year began.

Perhaps it was due to exhaustion from “SS” or the holiday mood. Everything was so busy during the end of the year, but it has all calmed down now.

Hiiro: Hehe. The holiday mood, hm. Tatsumi-senpai, you get like that too, huh.

But even though it was just two months, it was a very fulfilling period of time. Thanks to that, it seems the town scenery before and after “SS” changed in a blink of an eye.

It felt like I was staring straight at a bright light – As if it made me realise that the peak of being an idol is still very unattainable.

The powerhouse units like “fine” and “Eden” were especially amazing. It felt as though they drew the entire venue into a whirlpool of excitement and emotions – it was full of magnificence, beauty and fun.

Tatsumi: I know exactly what you mean.

Actually, I still think the scenery we saw that day was a dream.

Because of my injury, I thought my life as an idol would come to an end, but never would I have thought I would have another chance to stand on such a grand stage.

I thoroughly enjoyed performing with “Crazy:B” as well. I’d love to perform like that again after some rest. I hope we can stand on our next stage with a new and improved version of ourselves.

Hiiro: Yeah. Tatsumi-senpai, we’re still seen as a novice unit, but I’ll do my best so that we can make a great leap forward this year.

Aira: Whaa, I’m so late~!

Did I make it on time!? Or didn’t I!? …It’s right on 1PM – I’m safe!

Hiiro: You haven’t changed even though it’s a new year, Aira. We’re not meeting up for work, so I don’t think anyone will blame you if you’re a few minutes late, though?

Tatsumi: Hiiro-san, I think Aira-san made a promise to himself that he would do his best to be punctual, so he didn’t want to be late.

After all, this is the first time “ALKALOID” would be meeting after the New Year.

Aira: Yeah! Even though we’re newbies, we haven’t been called to take part in any New Year TV shows, though.

On the other hand, it might be the last chance for us to enjoy the New Year too.

We’ve gotta work hard so that our schedules are full to the brim next year ♪

Hiiro: Hmm? But we went on a shrine visit during the New Year together after “SS”, didn’t we? Was that work in your eyes, Aira?

Aira: That doesn’t count. Don’t nitpick things right from the get-go.

Hiiro: Hmm. The shrine doesn’t count numbers?[⁎] I wonder what that means. Can you explain to me in detail?

Aira: Oh, geez. I’m getting myself swept up in your pace and it’s only the beginning of the New Year… I’ll tell you later, so keep quiet for now!

Anyway, I don’t see Mayo-san, though… Did he go to the wrong place?

He was the one who sent us a message and asked to meet up. He rarely does that. Did he make a mistake because he’s not used to using “Hallhands”?

Tatsumi: It’s hard to imagine Mayoi-san being late when he was the one who initiated this gathering… Perhaps something unexpected cropped up.

…Oh? This sound is…

Is that a radio controlled device?

Aira: No, it’s a drone!

Hiiro: Radio controlled device? Drone…?

Aira: Uhh, a drone is a toy which can be controlled using a programme and there should be someone nearby with the controller…

Hiiro: Hmm. I’ve never heard of those words before. Is it like a small plane?

Aira: Wait, this shouldn’t be the time explaining everything to you, Hiro-kun! Why is there a drone here…?

Aira: Ah, is there some kinda shoot happening now?

Yay! Filming from the sky on a drone is very cool ♪ I wouldn’t mind letting them capture me at any angle!

Tatsumi: Hmm. Someone is filming from the sky? The camera seems to be only focused on us despite that, though.

Either way, communication is important . Let’s say something to the drone.

Hello, person controlling the drone! What on earth could this be about?

If you have business with us, then please tell us!

Sora: “HaHa~♪ Did you call?”

Aira: Wait… what!? Harukawa-senpai popped out from the drone – he’s floating in midair!?

Is anyone else seeing this? No, I’m scared to hear your answers so wait a minute!

I’ve been working with Harukawa-senpai a lot recently, so maybe I’m just seeing things…

Hiiro: Aira. Don’t worry. I can see him too.

I don’t know how it works, but I don’t sense his presence. I can tell his actual person isn’t here.

Sora: “HiHi~♪ Good guess! This Sora is a hologram and the real one is observing everything nearby!”

“Good day and hello, ‘ALKALOID’! Sora has come with a job offer for you all!”

Hiiro: All right. We’re always looking for work.

But answer my question first. Why are you here, Sora-kun?

Tatsumi: Indeed, this is a rather coincidental meeting.

Mayoi-san contacted us via “Hallhands” so we gathered here. Despite that, Mayoi-san is nowhere to be seen, but you have appeared instead, Sora-san…

Sora: “HuHu~♪ That’s because Maste–”

“Oh, Sora is the “facilitator”, so Sora can only mention specific things.”

“Dark Onii-san is in another place! If you’ll all agree to take up our work offer, then Sora will tell you where he is~♪”

Aira: Umm. What’s this “work offer”? This looks like a lot of work just to tell us about it and I’m getting a weird feeling…

Don’t tell me your work offer entails something crazy?

Sora: “You’ll find out once you accept! …Well, I’ll get a warning if I said that, so Sora will spill a little bit~”

“This is a special job that only the members of ‘ALKALOID’ can do!”

“You guys shall be the passengers of the ‘Phantom Airship’~☆” Aira: “Phantom Airship”?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#phantom airship

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theshelbyclan · 3 years

Text

Love Language

Summary: Tommy doesn’t say ‘I love you’.

(Gif by @nofckingfighting)

A/N: Sweet anon asked: Hello i love you're writing! Can i request a tommy one shot imagine where the reader (his girlfriend or wife) finds out in his office, one of the locked drawers has everytning shes ever given to him? Maybe like love letters or random flowers everything he keep 😍🤍 thank you so mych. This request was so amazing to me, because you it made me feel like you understand this character so well? Either way, it made me think, and this is the result. It’s kinda different but I hope you like it! Words: 1448

***

“Tommy?” “Hmm,” the preoccupied reply came. You sounded defeated, against your best efforts, “I love you.” “I know.”

***

There’s blood on his shirt. It’s the first thing you noticed when he walked in. Not the mud, not his eyes, not his energy, just the blood on his shirt.

“Who’s is it,” you asked as casually as you could. Tommy lit a cigarette in reply. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” he drew out the ‘s’ like he usually did when annoyed or tired. “Who was it?” you continued. “Y/N,” he held up a hand, “not tonight, eh? Not with the hundred fucking questions tonight, alright?” You remained silent for as long as you could bear, “Just need to know you’re safe.” “You knew who you married,” a low voice replied. “I did.” Tommy stood up again slowly started to walk away.

“Do not,” you hissed, “walk away from me.” “Y/N, what the fuck do you want from me, eh?” he raised his voice, “This is me. This is who I am. And I’m doing it all to give you everything you want. To keep you safe. Alright?” You leaned forward and tried to lock eyes with him, “What I want, Thomas Shelby, is you. In one piece, preferably.” “I know,” he lowered his voice again, “And I understand.” He waved a hand like he was about to say more, but didn’t. “It’s because I love you,” you emphasized. He nodded slowly, “And that’s why I’m doing all of this.”

***

You were sitting at your desk writing. Some people seemed to think that being married to Tommy Shelby was a fulltime job and it could be if you’d let it, but not for you. Even before Tommy you’d been a writer, a journalist and an author of short stories. Neatly you typed them out and send them to the publishers in question. It was the one thing in life that always offered you solace.

“You spelled ‘enthusiastic’ wrong,” you husband commented helpfully after having popped up suddenly behind you. You ripped the page irritably, “Says the man who never even went to school.” “Life taught me how to spell, Y/N,” he sort of joked. “Life taught youhow to spell ‘enthusiastic’? Can’t remember the last time you were ever enthusiastic about anything…” He raised one eyebrow slowly, “How about ‘sarcasm’, can you spell that? Or ‘devil’, how about that, eh?” You pouted theatrically, “Sometimes I’m not even sure you take me and my work seriously…” “Oh, I take it seriously,” Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, “I know it’s enough to keep my wife away from me.” You smiled back at him when he did, but still a pang of hurt went through you: you’d give up everything just to have him say ‘I’m so proud of you sweetheart’. Just once.

***

“Come on,” he whispered. You looked up. “Come on,” he repeated, cigarette hanging from his lips, “let’s go upstairs.” “Why?” you asked, as you already started to follow him. Once inside the bedroom, he started undressing you with surprising tenderness. “Tommy,” you breathed, “look at me. What is it you want?” As a reply without words he gazed at your body, like he was drinking in very detail and getting drunk at the mere sight of it. “You and me, Tommy,” you said in between kisses, “remember it’s you and me. Fuck the rest of them. Fuck your family. Fuck the whole world. I love you and you love me. It’s you and me and nothing can ever come between us, right?” As he took off his own shirt, he gently pushed you down onto the bed.

“You and me, right Tommy?” you repeated, a little breathless as his head disappeared between your legs. “No,” he finally spoke, “you.”

*** Thomas Shelby had a long day of dealing with renegade family and dangerous enemies, so when he got back home, all he wanted was his wife and some peace and quiet.

“I cooked,” you said as you lingered against the doorpost. Tommy looked tired, worn-out, dead almost, with his head in his hands, “even told the cook to take the evening off,” you commented while your voice sounded flat. It was funny, because your emotions were all over the place, but your exterior just didn’t show any of it.

He slowly lifted his head, “You did, eh?” “Thought you might like it…” you fidgeted in spite of yourself. “I pay that cook for her to actually fucking cook,” he grumbled. “Fine,” you snapped, “I’ll feed it to the dog,” and you started to walk away. “Wait…” “What?” You didn’t even really turn around. Tommy sighed again and for a moment it was like he noticed the disappointment in your eyes, “What did you cook?” “Mint leaves. Your favourite.” And then a minor miracle took place and Tommy Shelby actually smiled a little.

***

“You were late today. I waited.” “I’m sorry.” “Are you?” “I am.” “Do you love me?” “Yes.” “Tell me.” “I do. Every day.” “Not with words…” “No, not with words.” “Tommy, tell me again.” ***

You were still half-asleep in Tommy’s arms. His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. Outside, the sun wasn’t up yet, but it wouldn’t take long now.

Next to you, there was a gun on the table. Tommy had just taught you how to shoot. He’d shown you over and over again, even though you’d protested. But he said you might need it one day. On the other side there were his cigarettes and whiskey. His medicine. His comfort. His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. But for how long? How long would it be until he’d die by his own gun, or get killed in some fight? Or met some other girl, prettier and smarter than you? As if he could read your insecurities, he shifted in his sleep and hugged you even closer to him. Thomas Shelby might not be perfect or a gentleman or eloquent when it came to expressing his love, but he did hold you at night.

***

“Tommy?” you shouted out through the house, “THOMAS!” “Fucking hell, woman,” his head appeared around the corner, “What is it?” Slightly embarrassed by your own volume, you said, “I can’t find the scissors.” “They’re in my desk somewhere,” he put on his cap and added, “I need to see a man about a horse. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” You made your way to the desk that was always so tidy and neat. So you did as any sensible woman would do and turned over everything in search of a pair of scissors. Nothing. Angrily you threw down a pile of papers. And that’s when you noticed it. One drawer hadn’t been opened at all. When you tried it, you found it locked. But you were a girl from Small Heath and no locked drawer could stop you. In less than twenty seconds you had managed to force the lock en slid the secret hiding place open. Inside there were more papers, neatly stacked and tied together with pieces of string in different piles. Breathlessly you took them from the drawer and examined them one by one. “Still looking for those scissors, eh?” a low voice grumbled in your ear and you practically jumped from fear. “For fuck’s sake, Thomas,” you mumbled as you tried to hide the papers you’d just found. Tommy was eyeing them already, but didn’t say a word.

So you went back through them, “These are the letters I wrote to you, when you were in France. I thought you threw away everything. Your medals, everything…” He didn’t reply. Tears sprang into your eyes as you examined the second pile, “And these are all my short stories. Did you cut them from the papers? Did you really keep them all?” You quickly went through them and they were all there, from the very first one ever published, “And these, my articles…”

Tommy cleared his throat once and cast his eyes down when you looked at him. Lastly there was a small box. When you opened it, you found, “The rose I wore, when we were kids. The one my brother stole…” And now you couldn’t find the words, “I hardly… I didn’t even know you… back then. Why?” Tommy grabbed his case and started searching for a cigarette. “Tommy,” you insisted, “I had no idea. Why did you keep all of these?” “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he smirked lightly. You stared at the content of the secret drawer and decided that nothing was ever obvious when it came to Thomas Shelby. “Well?” you questioned. “I love you.”

*** Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #the shelby clan #love language

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