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nikakistos · 3 years

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The Perfect Closure of EreMika

The title is pure clickbait (as always), there will be lots of tags (as always) and this post will be huge. As always. So, let’s examine and evaluate the perfect conclusion of the most important relationship in Attack on Titan. We will analyze why this is the best conclusion they could have gotten and of course we are going to talk about what their scenes meant for their relationship, their feelings for each other and the themes of the story.

First, let’s ask the question: What was the purpose of this chapter? Ending the fight obviously, but also giving closure to the relationship between Eren and Mikasa. Now, there were 3 questions that needed to be answered in order for the two of them to have closure.

Why did Eren say to Mikasa that he hated her?

What does Eren feel for Mikasa?

What would have happened if Mikasa had given Eren a different answer back in chapter 123?

Isayama answered all 3 of them in a spectacular way. Let’s see how he did it. The chapter literally starts with Isayama, via Mikasa, setting up the closure. This was achieved by having her wonder if this really was the end for her and Eren. Could it be that their last interaction ever ended with him saying that he hated her?

Isayama answers that with a big, fat NO.

That’s the purpose of Mikasa’s vision. Mikasa’s vision is not there to introduce us to Alternate Universes or to portray her as a delusional fangirl that can’t cope with reality. It’s purpose is to answer the above 3 questions. And that it does.

Essentially, Mikasa’s vision is a “What if” scenario. If Mikasa had chosen the ideal for her answer back in chapter 123, Eren would have abandoned everything and lived with her. This means that Eren is also in love with her. He said that he hated Mikasa, because he wanted her to forget him. That’s why he also asked her to throw away the scarf.

Mikasa though, being the truest representation of all major, positive themes in the series says no. She chooses to remember him. That’s essentially the meaning of life. That’s what Armin taught to Zeke back in chapter 137. Memories of everyday life. That’s the meaning of life. Back in Trost, Mikasa said that she couldn’t die, because she wouldn’t be able to remember Eren. Even back then, Mikasa always knew the true meaning of life.

Afterall, the series heavily criticizes the usage of memory manipulation. Deleting memories or altering them have been methods empoyed by the Royal Family for years, hiding the truth from the people. One of the themes of the Survey Corps is remembering their fallen comrades and carrying on the torch. Mikasa forgetting Eren would be an insult to the themes of the story. As would be if Eren was revealed to have been sending fake memories and dreams to Mikasa out of pity for her.

Finally, Mikasa decides to kill Eren. Not because he hated her or because he didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Because she had to save the world and because that’s exactly what Eren wanted. Back in chapter 133 Reiner foreshadowed Eren’s desires. He explained that it is very hard for Eren, mentally, to handle the murder of the entire human race. Through Reiner, Isayama reveals that Eren wants someone to end it all for him. That someone was Mikasa. That’s why Mikasa knew where to find Eren. His relieved face when he saw her swinging the blade said it all. That was Eren’s design and Mikasa delivered.

And so, the chapter that starts with Mikasa thinking that the only closure she would get with Eren was the “I’ve always hated you”, ends with the first and the last kiss between the two of them that puts all of her worries to rest.

Is Mikasa delusional?

I’ve seen this being thrown around, so i have to also tackle said point. No, Mikasa is not delusional. This wasn’t a fantasy that only she experienced. This dream of hers is the same dream that Eren had back in chapter 1. Eren experienced the exact same things she did in the dream. We even see him with his titan marks. It is clear as day that they shared these moments.

Also, i have to give credits to Isayama here for his usage of “itterasshai”. The word generally means “Go and come back safely” and is usually said to people leaving the house. For Mikasa, Eren is her home, but she is also home for him, as shown in the RtS arc:

These were the perfect parting words for the two of them. Nothing else could encapsulate their relationship better. Eren of course, won’t come back, but that’s the irony of the word here.

Moving on to the next point, Mikasa’s characterization in this final arc is about her seeing Eren for the person he truly is and stop ignoring his faults. It starts from the Marley arc and it concludes with chapter 123 where she realizes that this was simply part of Eren’s nature.

He always had it in him to become the monster that he became. However, he always had a different side to him. A side that had been shown to her a few times. At first, when he wrapped the scarf around her and later when he asked her “What am i to you”. Finally, it manifested as a desire to live quietly with her in their shared dream. It would contradict her development and characterization in the final arc, to have Mikasa start seeing an incomplete Eren again, after realizing earlier who he really was. Mikasa understood who Eren truly is and she accepted him and continued to love him anyway, even though she didn’t agree with his genocide.

It is not out of character for Eren to run away with her either. At least not in that instance. The series highlights the moment that he asked Mikasa “What am i to you” as a pivotal one. Sure, under normal circumstances, Eren would have chosen to fight, but we saw him breaking down just moments earlier. The only person that could have saved him was Mikasa. Alas, that wasn’t meant to happen.

In any instance, the biggest indicator that Mikasa is not just a delusional girl who kissed the decapitated head of the man she loved, when he never really loved her in the same way, is Ymir’s face at the end of the chapter.

Ymir, as i have mentioned in previous posts, is a girl who never knew real love during her lifetime. She didn’t understand what she was looking at, when she first say a couple kissing with their friends cheering them on. And after that she was sentenced to a cruel life, with a man who never loved her and only viewed her as a tool. This girl, remembers longinly that scene of the couple kissing for 2000 years. She was waiting for 2000 years to see real love again.

She witnessed that through Eren and Mikasa. In a scene that would have otherwise been painted in a negative light, Ymir’s warm smile at the sight of the final act of love between two people who never got to be together the way they wanted to, clears any and all doubts regarding Eren’s feelings for Mikasa and the latter’s sanity. Eren reciprocates Mikasa’s feelings and he was alive for enough time to kiss her back, before completely fading away. Eren and Mikasa replaced the married couple and Ymir replaced the crowd that was cheering at them from 2000 years ago.

Of course, one might ask, could Eren really kiss her? Didn’t she just take advantage of him? No, he did kiss her. The way the scene was directed, it shows us that the events, which take place in their dream, mirror the events in real life. Just look at Eren’s lips one moment before Mikasa kissed him and compare them to the picture above, where they kiss. They are different.

Also, you have to remeber that decapitation doesn’t kill immediately and does not immobilize facial muscles. That was the entire reason that Eren and Zeke managed to get the Coordinate. Eren survived long enough from Gabi’s shot to make contact with Zeke. Even his facial expression changes as you can see below:

More importantly, was there really any chance that Ymir would look at Mikasa beheading and kissing Eren, while also smiling in approval, if Mikasa was a delusional girl who was unable to understand Eren’s feelings for her up to the very end? Most of all, do you think she would have allowed him to die, without experiencing real love? She died in such a way and she stayed for 2000 years in the Paths waiting for someone to show her real love. Eren was her benefactor. Would she ever allow him to die in such a way, when she was being mistreated (sexually and in many other ways) by King Fritz? I doubt it. Actually no. I don’t doubt it. I’m sure this is not the way we are meant to interprete the scene.

Eren’s relationship with Mikasa, from the very start, is an allegory for the world of AoT. The world is cruel, but is also very beautiful. Eren’s story with Mikasa starts with him murdering in cold blood her kidnappers (cruelty) and then warmly and gently welcoming her to his family by wrapping a scarf around her (beauty). Their story ends with Mikasa decapitating him (cruelty) and kissing him (beauty).

Eren’s tendency for violence has always been portrayed as going hand in hand with his better side. That side has always been represented by Mikasa. It is only fitting for them to have their most beautiful moment happening almost at the same time as their most cruel one. This is how Isayama juxtaposes this duality:

If we interprete this scene as Mikasa being delusional and Eren not being in love with her we get a very disturbing and creepy scene, between an obsessed, psychosis-suffering girl who can’t understand the feelings of Eren, a genocidal maniac who never had any chance or willingness to live a normal life, even though there are hints of that, and a 2000 year old ghost who just happily smiled at the decapitation and forceful kissing of her emancipator. I am pretty sure this is not the message Isayama wants to send. Not simply, because it is a disservice to Mikasa as a character and to her relationship with Eren, which has been one of the most prominent and consistent part of the series from the very first chapter, but because it is also a huge disrespect to Eren as a character as well. Does anyone really think that Isayama would choose to write Eren’s death like that? Not a single important person in the entire story has gotten such an exit. Not even Floch. Even Zeke, who thought that his father never loved him and only used him as a tool, got to see that his father truly did love him, before finally dying. Of course Eren and Mikasa would get the same treatment.

What i mean to say is that Eren and Mikasa’s closure won’t be recontextualized in a way that will paint their feelings for one another and their relationship in a negative light. If anyone’s expecting that, he/she will be disappointed. Eren and Mikasa were confirmed as a canonical couple in chapter 138.

On the other hand, if anyone’s expecting that this wasn’t their real closure and that they will get an even happier ending, he/she is also coping hard. Eren died here in this chapter. There won’t be a scarf rewrap (i’m here to eat my words if it happens), because Isayama gave the couple a kiss. A kiss that was in the makings ever since chapter 50 dropped. And of course, there is not going to be a baby born to Eren and Mikasa. Like, no way it’s happening. Eren is not coming back to life as that would turnish the series and it’s ending.

In conclusion, Eren’s relationship with Mikasa ended in the same way it started. Violently and Beautifully. Tragically and Happily. They acted on their romantic feelings for each other the very moment they had to part ways forever. This is how Isayama hurts us. The essence of a bittersweet conclusion.

EDIT: EATING MY WORDS AS PROMISED. EREN DID REWRAP MIKASA’S SCARF. HE KEPT HIS PROMISE.

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

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sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures

Read on AO3

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something – no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited.

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

Next Chapter

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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To The Rescue

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: I'm currently requiring a bit of humour - my arachnophobia just took a hit from a rather big boi scuttling past me whilst I was working out. Thought you might be interested in my fic idea, of Juice being the only one to hear reader scream when he's in the clubhouse, and rushing to her room to find her very wet and naked, having leapt out of the shower due to a spider. Some fluffy/smutty stuff ensues. After the spider is dealt with. Because spider

Warnings: language, mentions of spiders, nudity and some slight steam

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Posting 2 fics in one day?? Who is she?? I bumped this up to the top of my request list because I definitely owe Juice a light-hearted fic after all the angst that I have written for him haha. I didn’t really get into any full-on smut, but we still get a little steamy with our boy, hope that’s alright! And hope this provides a little light and laughter for you. xo

SOA Taglist: given the current influx of SOA requests (which I’m loving) if you want to be tagged in any of these fics going forward please feel free to let me know!

It was early in the morning, and the clubhouse was dead. Most of the guys were off on a run, and the few who weren’t were either working in the garage or handling other club business outside the compound. You’d had a rough night at work the night before and you just wanted to shower off all the stress and frustration of your shift. You hadn’t felt like driving all the way home, and the showers in the clubhouse dorms were just as good as your shower at house. You knew it wouldn’t be busy so you figured that there wouldn’t be harm in popping in.

You made your way into Juice’s dorm, peeking around to see if he was there. Aside from the fact that you had been seeing Juice for a few weeks, he was also one of the only guys who kept his room clean, so it was the ideal spot to shower anyway. You couldn’t remember if he was one of the men who had been sent of on the run, but either way, you figured that Juice wouldn’t mind you borrowing his shower. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time you found yourself in his dorm, and this was probably the tamest thing either of you had done there.

You pawed around his dresser for a t-shirt to wear. Finally coming across one that you wanted, you took a towel that was hanging off the back of the door and stepped into the small bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You turned the water on and peeled your clothes off, desperate to feel the hot water beat down your back for a few minutes.

Juice walked into the clubhouse, needing to grab his laptop to run a few names that the guys had given him to look into. It was all silent as he made his way back towards his dorm. Right as he reached the hallway that branched off to all of their dorms, he heard an ear-piercing scream. He knew that it was you, and he immediately ran to his room.

He swung the door open and the first thing that he saw when he entered was you leaning back against the bathroom door, holding it shut. You hadn’t even taken a moment to grab your towel as you had leapt out of the tiny room, and water was dripping from your hair and body onto the floor.

Juice didn’t know what part of the situation he was supposed to be dealing with first. He had never heard you scream like that, though. He held his hands out in attempt to show you that he knew you were obviously extremely freaked out about something.

“What…what’s going on?”

“There’s,” you shook your head, “You’ve got a fucking tarantula in your shower.”

“I have a—” he cut himself short. He shook his head slightly, not wanting to dismiss your fear but never in a million years did he think that a spider would illicit such a bone-chilling sound from you, “Alright. Let me go take care of it.”

He handed you a different towel to wrap yourself up in, which you did gladly. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that you had been standing naked in front of him, too distracted by the thought of what was on the other side of the door.

Juice walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. You walked away and sat down on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for him to get rid of the threat in the shower. You could hear him shuffling around on the other side of the door.

A couple minutes later you heard the sound of the toilet flushing and you had to assume that it was him disposing of the spider. Moments after that, he opened the door and stepped back out into the expanse of his dorm. There was a playful smile on his face as he walked over towards you.

He nodded at you, “The threat has been neutralized.”

You chuckled, “Good. Can’t believe you never noticed that fucking thing.”

He sat down next to you, “I had no idea that spiders were such a thing for you. I’ve seen you willing to fight grown men who are easily twice your size but—”

“That’s not the same,” you cut him off with a laugh, “Spiders are just…” your voice trailed off and your body visibly shivered, “Can’t do it.”

“Noted,” he paused, eyes taking a moment to really look at you now that the initial chaos of the situation had quieted down.

You playfully bumped his shoulder with your own, “Nothing you haven’t seen before, Juice.”

He chuckled, a slightly embarrassed grin coming over his face as he tore his eyes away from your body, focusing them on yours. He pushed a few stray locks of your dripping wet hair behind your shoulder. The gentle touch made goosebumps break out over your skin and you smiled as you bit down lightly on your bottom lip.

“Can you grab my shirt from the bathroom?”

He stood up with a laugh, “Your shirt?”

You smiled, “You know what I mean.”

Juice went to the bathroom to grab it for you. He had it slung over his shoulder as he walked back over to you. With a smirk on his face he held his hands out, offering to pull you up off the bed. You gently placed your hands into his, smiling at the way his hands enveloped your own. He pulled you up and you collided with his chest with a laugh.

Your faces were mere centimeters away from each other. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as his eyes looked into yours. He reached forward and cupped the side of your face in one hand, and you immediately leaned into his warm and gentle touch. He smiled at you as he dipped his head down, connecting his lips to yours.

It was only a matter of seconds before he was tugging at the towel that you had wrapped around yourself, causing it to fall to the floor. You chuckled as his hands began to wander all over your body, pulling you as close as he could manage. His lips attached to your neck as he bit down lightly on the sensitive skin there. You tilted your head, granting him better access as you reached down for the bottom hem of his shirt. You started sliding it up, prompting him to take it off. He pulled himself away from you just long enough to rip if off and toss it to the floor to be forgotten alongside your towel and the shirt he had retrieved for you only minutes before.

His fingertips grazed the soft skin of your legs before he scooped you up and placed you back on the bed. You laughed as he positioned himself over you, peppering your entire face and neck in featherlight kisses. Your hands danced along the ink that covered his chest and you felt his lips curl into a smile as he pressed them against you.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him in towards you. He pressed his lips to yours as he ran his hands along your thighs and hips, like he was trying to memorize every curve of your body. Your hands rested on the back of his neck, fingertips pressing lightly into him as you encouraged him to keep his lips locked onto yours.

He was lightly tracing his thumb back and forth on your thigh when he pulled his lips away from yours. He looked down at you, a soft, genuine smile on his face. There was something about the way that he looked at you that always made your entire face get warm. There was always so much warmth and excitement swirling around in his eyes and it was incredible to you that you brought that out of him.

He leaned in so that the tip of his nose was lightly touching yours, “Glad I walked into the clubhouse when I did,” he chuckled.

You brushed your nose lightly against his, “Me too. God forbid it was the prospect instead of you,” you laughed.

He climbed off of you and sat on the edge of the bed, easily reaching his arms around you and pulling you so that you were on his lap straddling him. You couldn’t contain the giggles that erupted from you whenever he managed to move you around with such ease.

“Thanks for coming to the rescue,” you laughed as you traced along the tattoos that decorated the sides of his head.

He chuckled, “Of course. Whether the threat has two legs, or eight, I’ve got your back,” he paused, reveling in the softness of your touch for a moment before asking, “How often do you use my shower when I’m not here?”

“Well I’m not going to be doing that anymore,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Not if you’re raising monsters in there.”

He laughed as he leaned in and kissed your shoulder, “I’ll add exterminator to my list of jobs around here, alright?”

“Thank you,” you nodded, “That’s all I ask.”

He watched your hands as they slid down his shoulders and chest, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise you wouldn’t catch me dead in this room ever again.”

“Well,” he pulled you close so his forehead was pressed against yours, “at least I have that going for me.”

You could see the smirk on his face and you had to ask, “What’re you thinking?”

He chuckled, “Least I also know it’s not a total mood-killer.” You rolled your eyes and went to pull yourself away from him but he wrapped his arms tighter around you, laughing as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, “You can’t leave now, not after I saved you!”

You laughed, palms resting flat against his chest, “Spiders may not be a total mood killer but that attitude will be.”

He looked at you with a smirk, “I think you’re lying.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, “Yea, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“I think everything you say sounds good,” there was a dreamy look in his eyes.

You smiled, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone, “Such a smooth-talker.”

He turned and pressed a kiss into your palm, but didn’t say anything else. The two of you sat together all tangled up in silence for a few minutes. You had a feeling that he was thinking the same thing that you were—that it was nice to have someone there through the drama, the chaos, the ridiculousness of your everyday lives. Even when things felt heavy, it was nice to know that he was there to make things a little lighter. Sometimes that meant holding you while you cried, and other times it meant making sure that the room was completely devoid of any and all spiders, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #juice ortiz fluff #juice ortiz fanfiction

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raleighcarrera · 3 years

Text

parry

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

after the polo match, kennedy sneaks out to see blaine. bonus scene from the end of chapter 5.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @natesewell ; @blainehellyes

~4.7k words | E

just let me know when you decide you actually want to be in control of your own life.

the words play on a loop in her mind as she stares at the ceiling, tossing and turning in bed.

after all the time she and blaine have spent together, where the hell does he get off talking to her like that?

who does he think he is, being right?

kennedy huffs, flopping over onto her stomach, shoving her face in the pillow on her bed. go to sleep, she scolds herself, squeezing her eyes shut tight and doing her very best to at least try. she has class tomorrow -- assignments to turn in, things to do. she can’t be awake at...

a glance at the clock on her nightstand makes her balk. two-thirty in the morning?!

her hands rub her eyes in frustration. this is all blaine’s fault.

before she’s even aware of what she’s doing, kennedy’s rolling onto her side and grappling for her phone, squinting as the light from the screen illuminates her otherwise pitch black bedroom. she hesitates, thumbs poised over the keyboard.

what is she supposed to say?

it’s all so confusing -- where she stands with blaine after last week and how she’s supposed to reconcile all the things she’s learning about him with the person she’d read about online before they ever met, how her mother’s campaign intersects with what she wants and whether or not she should be allowed to have something, for once, after going without for so long.

are you awake? she settles on finally, sent before she can take it back.

blaine’s reply comes within moments. no way did i just get a u up text from kennedy monroe, it says.

her eyes roll, though she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t immediately start to feel a little bit better, just like that. even when she doesn’t know what to say to him, she knows she wants to talk to him, and... maybe that’s enough.

you could just say yes, you know.

where’s the fun in that? before she’s even done reading blaine’s first message, the second appears right below it. is something wrong?

a loaded question. she knows she isn’t mad at blaine, not really. her anger’s meant for her mom and he’s unfairly caught the misdirection. though maybe the reason why his observations about her always seem to sting so much are because they hit unnervingly close to home, time after time. no.

liar, blaine says, and then, come over, then.

kennedy’s eyebrows lift. it’s almost three o’clock in the morning, she reminds him, as though he somehow hasn’t noticed.

so? betters your chances of not being seen with me.

her behavior at the polo match had poked at a sore spot, then. she sighs.

the front door is out of the question. she knows the second she slips out of her bedroom tatum will wake up and catch her in the suite’s living room, and that’s a complication she isn’t keen on dealing with, if she’s doing this.

is she doing this?

as softly as she can manage, she slips to the side and plants her feet on the floor, standing and stretching. her hair’s in a topknot, piled on her head -- that’ll have to do, there’s nothing she can do about it now -- but she should probably put on something more decent, especially if...

her phone lights up in her hand again. yes or no, rutherland?

yes, she writes back, so that it’s out there and she’s committed, her heart starting to race as soon as she sees her message is marked delivered. okay. okay, she’s doing this. there’s no going back now.

her hands shake as she slides open the window in her bedroom, less confidently than blaine had lifted the one in the living room just a few days before. for some reason the drop looks steeper and scarier than it had with him grinning up at her, but all it takes is a deep breath and the reminder of her mother’s expectations before she makes the leap, slinking off through the courtyard without a look back.

the back entrance to blaine’s residence hall is unlocked, and she counts off the numbers on each door down the hallway silently to herself to try to ease her nerves as she makes her way to the wing where she knows his and peter’s room is.

though she draws up short as she emerges from the stairwell; blaine’s waiting for her outside the suite, leaning half out of the open door frame. his arms are folded across his bare chest, and there’s sweatpants slung low on his hips where she does her very best not to stare, setting her eyes on his smirking mouth instead. “well, well, well. you actually showed.”

“shhh,” she instructs reflexively, looking around before following him inside, reaching out to smack his shoulder when blaine laughs just a touch too loudly for comfort.

her back leans against the front door as soon as it’s shut behind her. kennedy sighs heavily, scrubbing her hands over her face. part of her wants badly to throw up.

when she opens her eyes, blaine’s shaking his head at her indulgently. his hair is tousled like he’d been in bed while they were talking, too. “you teach a girl to sneak out one time and suddenly she’s all about it. it’s like you’re a different person.”

“oh my god, be quiet,” kennedy scolds, half because he’s already annoying her to her breaking point and half because -- “isn’t peter asleep?”

“a jet plane landing on the quad couldn’t wake peter up if it tried,” he snorts, sliding his eyes down her body slowly. “but we can talk in my room, if you want. shut the door and everything.”

it’s an offer she probably wouldn’t be able to say no to even if she wasn’t feeling vulnerable; seeing blaine’s room presents an opportunity to know a part of him he seems hellbent on keeping guarded.

and then there’s the other reason she’d come over, the innuendo underlying why she’s at blaines at three o’clock in the morning in underwear she definitely hadn’t been sleeping in.

kennedy nods. blaine’s grin is sharp in the dark living room, and he leads her wordlessly to the back bedroom in the suite -- the one that’d be dionne’s, if they were at her place.

but it’s not like dionne’s room at all. the bed is messy and unmade, dark sheets hanging half off the bed. blaine bypasses the overhead lights for the lamp at his bedside, and then the room is bathed in the dim coolness of a low blue bulb, just enough that she can see him perfectly, even though the curtains are drawn tight across his window.

blaine flings himself back into his bed like it’s no big deal at all that she’s here, the mattress bouncing in its frame. he wiggles pointedly over towards the wall, and without him inviting her closer, she toes off her shoes and falls into the space at his side, laying down on top of his outstretched arm.

there’s the briefest moment of silence before he exhales and curls his fingers around her shoulder. “i hope you left the warden a note,” he murmurs.

“after the earful i got the other day? no.” blaine’s chest is warm under her cheek when she turns her face to look at him. it’s weird how being so close to him isn’t weird at all, how natural situating herself in his bed and his arms feels and how much more relaxed she is, the crushing weight of the conversation she’d had with her mom easing up enough that she can finally let herself breathe.

“tell me about it,” blaine hums, “jacob totally ratted me out to my mom. she went nuclear.”

kennedy winces, sympathy softening the expression on her face. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be,” blaine shrugs, “i don’t give a shit. besides, it was totally worth it.”

there’s something warm in his gaze when he meets her eyes -- something that makes her feel safe enough to admit, “my mom laid into me, too. before the polo match. it was the same as always, she just... everything is always about her campaign and how what i do affects her. and she expects me to be, like, this ideal daughter who never does anything wrong or has a life or an independent thought, and sometimes i feel like it’s impossible to live up to her expectations. i mean, no one could.”

blaine makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “i know what you mean. like, yeah, our parents forced us to come here, but we should still be able to get something we want out of this experience, too.”

“exactly,” kennedy agrees quickly, struck by his understanding, “and just once i’d love to be able to make friends or date someone without having to worry about what it’ll do to my mom’s campaign, and i wish she’d give me that freedom, too, instead of trying to make me promise that i won’t be seen with you in public anymore. it’s ridiculous.”

a sudden silence from beside her makes kennedy turn her head curiously. of course, the smirk on blaine’s face is a mile wide. “i’m sorry, did you say date?”

“shut up,” she huffs, kicking his shin where their legs are half-tangled together on top of the yanked out sheets on his bed. “you know what i mean.”

“i don’t think that i do,” he says innocently, “really, you could go on --”

“oh my god, i can’t stand you. there’s seriously no --”

“i mean, i don’t think i’m asking for much. just a little explanation --”

“-- talking to you, you just interrupt me with some stupid jokes, and i’m trying to -- hey!” her voice turns up indignantly as blaine suddenly pushes up onto his knee, pivoting until he’s leaning over her on the bed. the abrupt movement makes the sheets beneath her slip, pushing her dangerously close to the edge of the mattress.

but all she can focus on are blaine’s eyes in the dim light of his room and the way he’s looking at her with them, his gaze almost adoring.

he’s obviously waiting for an answer she’s all too eager to give up, so when he arches his eyebrows questioningly at her, she nods so quickly her bun bobs precariously at the top of her head.

blaine dips down to kiss her without hesitation, his hands braced on either side of her head, off-center from the pillow. his stubble scrapes against her jaw and she sighs, parting her lips as she melts back into the mattress, reaching out for his arms to tug him in closer.

it’s slower and softer than his kiss at the carnival had been, more meaningful than how they’d kissed at the party at the start of term. there’s something there, in the way blaine kisses her, that she’s never felt before, not with any of the dull up-and-comers who’d so formally asked to take her to dinner in the past and kissed her goodnight politely before never calling her again.

his hand skims down her side innocently, fingers toying with the hem of her top. for all his bravado, blaine is always uncharacteristically cautious when she manages to get him alone, and fuck her, but she finds that hopelessly endearing, too.

kennedy spreads her legs out wider on the bed in encouragement, urging him closer with a hand at his back. the bare skin of blaine’s chest seems to stretch on for miles, broad shoulders flexing under her fingers when he bends at the elbows to bring their bodies closer. his own wide palm ghosts over her stomach, spanning the expanse of her ribcage.

“i missed this,” she admits, because it’s true, her voice turning up at the end into something breathy and embarrassing when blaine’s hips roll forward in a slow grind between her legs.

to her surprise, his answer is genuine -- no sarcastic quip or smart remark to be found. “me, too,” blaine mutters lowly between kisses that start to travel across her face, over to her jaw and down her neck. “it’s ridiculous how much i think about this.” he pauses with his teeth just above her collarbone, and then amends, “about you,” and bites.

she moans, teeth digging into her bottom lip to try and stifle the sound. regardless of blaine’s insistence, peter’s asleep in just the next room, and the walls in her suite are thin enough that she can hear dionne blow drying her hair in the mornings, so --

“come on,” he needles, the rough rasp of his voice sounding so good it makes her own hips twitch forward, desperate to get closer, “i told you he won’t wake up.”

“we shouldn’t risk it,” she murmurs, sliding her hands down his chest to settle at the waistband of his sweats.

“there’s no way peter doesn’t know,” blaine says, lowering his voice to match hers, speaking the words directly into her ear. his hands push her shirt up higher and higher while he talks, until the fabric’s tucked beneath her chin and she’s shivering under his gaze. “if he didn’t figure it out, dionne totally told him.”

he’s probably right about that. dionne had seen straight through her easily, and kennedy knows she’s almost definitely well aware of every single thing that’s happened between them, even despite her best efforts to keep it quiet and skirt the topic of conversation whenever it comes up.

“i can still be quiet,” she returns finally, angling her head up and kissing blaine again before he can argue further, forgetting everything other than the lush safety of his mouth as soon as their lips meet.

“we’ll see,” blaine warns, breaking away abruptly and leaving her gasping to catch her breath while he slides down her body, finally kicking the messy sheets to the floor.

she pushes up onto her elbows, watching blaine slide her pajama pants down to her ankles. her eyes widen as she realize what he’s doing, though she hardly has time to say a word before he’s reaching for the delicate lace thong she’s wearing, pulling it carefully to the side.

blaine grins at her. “you sleep in these?”

kennedy huffs. “maybe.”

his smile turns crooked, the tilt of his lips endearing all over again. “cute,” he murmurs, leaning in and lowering his mouth between her legs, pressing a sucking kiss to the crease at the top of her thigh.

she exhales, trying not to tense. the truth is that none of the other guys she’s ever dated were into this -- that sex before blaine had been largely perfunctory, that the way he makes her feel is totally and completely new and terrifying to her --

warm eyes find hers and pull her effortlessly from her meltdown. “hey,” blaine says gently, “stay here with me, okay?”

“okay,” kennedy returns, and then blaine bows his head again and he settles between her thighs and she forgets to panic in favor of how good it feels, each swipe of his tongue winding her up tighter until her back is arching up off the bed. “blaine,” she groans, all thoughts of being quiet following her nerves and reservations swiftly out the door, “god, fuck.”

she reaches down and pushes her fingers into his hair, anchoring herself to the moment. the little doubts that make her want to spiral are still there, in the back of her mind, but they’re much quieter with her gaze locked on the sight of his head dipped in low at the apex of her thighs, the warm pressure of his mouth slowly working her over.

sparks of pleasure sing down her spine, making her toes curl where her legs are splayed out wide. needlessly, blaine’s taking his time, like he has something to prove -- like he doesn’t already know how much she’s risking every day so she can prioritize him, like he isn’t aware of how little she cares about the trouble she’s in once they’re alone together.

she’s so caught up in the way he’s making her feel that it takes her by complete surprise when she tips over the edge, trembles shaking her body and making stars explode behind her eyes.

it’s when she floats back to earth that she realizes how loud she’d gotten, and she can feel her face heat with embarrassment, her grip on his hair loosening until blaine can bounce back up and shake his head out, his tongue dragging along his grinning lips. “pretty good, i guess?”

“come here,” kennedy directs, still working to catch her breath. she’s dazed and not bothering to hide it, her gaze unfocused and hazy before blaine’s face crowds into her field of vision and she can narrow in on the way his obnoxious smile softens at its edges before they’re kissing again.

her body tangles around his and she sighs into his mouth as blaine lets her taste herself, his lips sliding over hers with purpose. every last one of her stressors fades away as she loses herself in the warmth of blaine’s kiss, their limbs twining together while they roll around on the mattress until she comes to a stop with her pants kicked off, perched in blaine’s lap, straddling his hips.

“nice view,” he comments hoarsely when they separate, each rough exhale underlining how affected he is. “but --”

she reaches down and pulls her top off before he can finish, drawing a laugh from blaine that sounds unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent stillness of his bedroom. “better?”

“oh, she reads minds now, too,” blaine murmurs, reaching out for her hips and pulling her in closer, groaning when she slides over the noticeable stretch at the front of his sweatpants. “is there anything you can’t do?”

“fuck you with your pants still on,” she answers breathlessly, emboldened by the way blaine’s looking at her -- by the way he hasn’t stopped looking at her, since she first showed up at his suite and maybe even before that, too.

her pulse stutters when he laughs at her again, more warmly this time. if she reads too deeply into it, blaine sounds both surprised and pleased by her forwardness, and something about thinking she might’ve impressed him makes her feel a little more confident -- like there might actually be something to this whole doing-her-own-thing and being-herself project she’s evidently excelling at, despite its newness.

“well, we can’t have that,” blaine smiles, and then his hips lift and he’s bare, too, looking up at her smugly like he knows he’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

irritatingly, nothing else comes to mind as even being close.

but his expression shifts as she draws closer for another kiss and he looks at whatever emotions are playing out across her face, reading her as effortlessly as always. something in his eyes gets a little more serious, his hands intentional when they slide down her back and his fingers fan out over her ass.

“you’re gorgeous,” he mutters angrily between quick kisses, like it’s ruining his day, somehow.

“you, too,” she returns more sincerely, because -- it’s just true. he is. and despite every challenging complication, she’s glad she’s here with him, even if she’s headed down a path that’s going to make things with her mom impossible and the rest of her life a living hell. what’s happening now is independent of all of that, something she’s not ready to share with anyone else just yet.

anyone but blaine, that is.

his dark eyes skim slowly down her body and back up again, the curl of his lips tilting into something resembling wonderment. he seems just as amazed by the fact that she’s here as kennedy is, and for the first time, she doesn’t have to second guess how he feels about her. for once, she can read him perfectly, and all it makes her want is more.

their lips meet in a kiss that’s uncharacteristically tender, so searching and sweet it leaves her short of breath. though they’re both eager to move things along there’s no rush, tonight, and she revels in their ability to take their time and enjoy themselves in private, away from the rest of the world.

when she finally gets her hand around blaine and moves to connect them he looks lost, his eyes fixed on her face with something reminiscent of confusion lurking in them. as her hips sink down slowly, she remembers what he’d said to her on the ferris wheel before they’d kissed: this is new to me.

there’s something so comforting in knowing that, making her feel warm all over in a way that has nothing to do with where their bodies are joined and how she’s rocking her hips in his lap, gasping as they come even closer together.

her body leans down over his and their foreheads tip together; blaine lifts his hand to gently brush a lock of hair that’s dropped loose from her bun out of her eyes, and then there’s nothing between them at all -- nothing to stop her from staring at him when his hips thrust up to meet hers, nothing but the springs in the mattress bouncing and the sound of their breaths and one soft exhalation of her name that reads like something between a curse and praise. “kennedy. jesus christ.”

blaine’s hand cups her jaw and his thumb brushes over her cheek with a gentleness that makes her tremble, something she’d never expected and couldn’t have possibly prepared for.

it feels like more -- like the more she’s been wondering about and wanting -- and if it’s not she has no idea how she’s ever going to recover.

“i love this,” blaine murmurs against her lips, still touching her all over in an almost absent-minded way, his words thoughtful as his hips buck to meet her each time she rocks down against him.

“me too,” she gasps, “i -- i’m -- god, blaine. feels good.”

“yeah?” there’s some urgency in his movements then, a new speed to the way his hips move. “tell me.”

“i’ve -- ever since the party, i’ve wanted to...” it’s too much. she screws her eyes shut tight, bracing her hands on his chest.

it’s only when blaine’s thumb and forefinger squeeze her chin that she opens her eyes again, blinking at him imploringly in the hopes he’ll understand.

by some miracle, he does, rocking his hips up with a groan that leaves her lightheaded and again emphasizing, “i love this.”

“yes,” she breathes back, effortlessly reassured and tilting her head down for another kiss to try and express some of the overwhelming gratitude she feels for the way he just gets her, “yes, yes, blaine, i’m --”

it’s more intense than she expects, when he brings his hand between her legs and nudges her over the edge. stars explode behind her eyes and all she can focus on is blaine and the way he’s holding her, the grip of his free hand laced in hers a tight safety she leans into while she chokes back a loud moan of his name.

distantly, she can hear blaine echoing her with his own curses, his rhythm stuttering and then faltering until he tugs her into a desperate kiss, his groan muffled into her mouth when his lips slide sloppily against hers.

it takes her longer than she’d care to admit to catch her breath, and though she knows she’s dead weight on top of blaine’s chest she can’t quite bring herself to move, nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck with a sigh.

blaine’s still for a long moment before he lifts his hand to her back and draws lazy circles between her shoulder blades, the rough pads of his fingertips skimming over her skin. “you good?”

“very,” kennedy yawns into his ear, laughing when he jerks to the right and shoves her off of him, back into the curve at his side that seems to be perfectly sized for someone her shape.

with how she’s pressed up against him, the walk back across campus seems daunting. class in the morning is an even more miserable prospect.

“i’ll get up and fix the sheets if you sleep here,” blaine offers, like he can read her mind. the words make her freeze immediately, and she can’t help but notice how suddenly tense he is beside her, too, like he hadn’t intended for it to be a thing but now it is and there’s nothing he can do about it. the hand he has on her side tightens and relaxes abruptly. she can hear him clear his throat, and when he speaks again, it’s in the same forced-casual tone of voice he seems to love. “if you want.”

kennedy stares at the ceiling, unblinking. it looks exactly like the ceiling in her room, except that she feels eons closer to sleep here with blaine than she had back in her suite, for some reason. “okay,” she murmurs finally, reaching out and prodding his calf with her toes, “fix them.”

blaine rolls to his feet, and she takes advantage of the fact that he’s still naked to shamelessly ogle him, waiting until he’s got his back to her to whistle from where she’s curled up in his bed.

a pillow from the floor hits her in the head and makes her laugh, and then the sheet’s thrown over her hastily, followed by the blanket and the comforter in quick succession.

a warm body launches itself at the bed and wriggles chaotically under the covers with her, effortlessly displacing the slight semblance of order he’d just organized. “i can’t believe you live like this,” kennedy says as blaine shifts in close, “next time you’re coming to my suite.”

“sorry it’s not up to your standards, first daughter.” blaine has to stretch to shut the bedside lamp off, and again she finds herself staring, admiring the way his muscles flex when his hand fumbles for the switch behind his back without twisting his body around, his refusal to take his eyes off her clear. “but i don’t know if i could get it up with your childhood boyfriend listening in on me.”

“oh my god, tatum is not -- we never -- jesus, you’re awful.” but her protests are half-hearted, bisected by another yawn. they have class in just a few hours.

and she has nothing to wear.

though it’s hard to worry about anything with the way blaine is grabbing her and tugging her into his chest, folding her in along his body and tucking his head overtop of hers. kennedy starts to grin against his bare chest as they both curl up together under the covers.

“you never told me you were a cuddler.”

“i’ll throw all these blankets back on the floor,” blaine threatens, “don’t think i won’t.”

she lifts her head and squints at him in the dark, still smiling. blaine’s eyes are shut peacefully, and she’d wager there’s not a thing in the world that could get him to move, just then. she slumps back against him with a laugh. “yeah, right.”

“i’ll do it,” he promises again, though his voice is fading fast. he sounds more relaxed and honest than she’s ever known him to be. “when you least expect it.”

well -- that was kind of his process for everything, wasn’t it? “shut up.”

“you shut up, i’m sleeping.” judging by the even rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, he’s close to it, and she’s just about there, too, soothed by the fact that she’s not alone for the first time in as long as she can remember.

“night, then,” kennedy murmurs softly, finally letting her eyes slide shut when his lips brush over the top of her forehead at her hairline, blaine’s fingers squeezing her shoulder one last time before they grow slack against her.

she winds up sleeping through four alarms, two classes and ten phone calls from tatum, but it’s all kind of worth it to wake up well-rested beside blaine in the morning -- so much so that even a nasty phone call from her mother can’t drag her back down to earth from where she’s floating happily on a high the kiss goodbye blaine had gifted her before she’d left to go back to her suite and shower had catapulted her up to without a prayer of coming down anytime soon.

#blaine hayes #blaine hayes x mc #foreign affairs #choices foreign affairs #myfic #long post #ns*w

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matthiasschoenaertsdaily · 3 years

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Matthias Schoenaerts full interview for De Morgen Magazine (original in Flemish, translated into English by @matthiasschoenaertsdaily)

Interview by Els Maes, published on November 28, 2020

Even a global pandemic will not destroy the optimism of actor Matthias Schoenaerts (42). Because he knows from his own experience how much beauty can emerge from the most hopeless situations. "I've had my back against the wall often enough, I'll always find a way out."

A bleak autumn day on a concrete square. There is lukewarm coffee, lukewarm Chimay and rolling tobacco. At dusk we see the silhouettes of fat rats that shoot past our ankles. And yet Matthias Schoenaerts will tell us in a glowing argument that this, here and now, is the very best place to be. That there is so much beauty to discover, he says. Le paradis c'est ici. As long as we want to see it.

"It's strange to say in this unpleasant period, but I've enjoyed the past few months enormously. It's the first time in ten years, since Runskop actually, that I'll be home for a long period of time. This is so beneficial: I am photographing, painting, writing. I can devote time and attention to the very simple things we'd otherwise race past."

"Seriously, look at that," he says, picking a leaf off the ground. "Those colors, that pattern. I can spend hours looking at the pure beauty of the things that surround us."

Above us a pigeon is wreaking havoc between the thinned out foliage. "While you are singing about the wonderful beauty of nature, that animal is going to shit on our heads," I say. "And that too will be a s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d moment," Schoenaerts answers.

Matthias Schoenaerts is Belgium's most successful international film star. But here and now, on a bench in his hometown, he is a technically unemployed actor, an all-round searching artist, but above all: fighter of cynicism. "I refuse to go along with all negativity and fear. The true battle today is cynicism versus courage. And I always choose the latter."

We're on the Oudevaartplaats, the square that everyone knows as the Antwerp Bird Market, and where Schoenaerts' childhood memories are waiting to be picked up. It comes into the conversation just like that: Brando, the cute chow chow that little Matthias got from his mom on this square, when here on the bird market puppies were still sold. "My dogs were my great loves. The home situation was often difficult, and with my dogs I found security. We had three chow chows, those fluffy lion dogs with a blue tongue. Brando was the first, I loved that animal."

"We lived in a small apartment with three dogs, anything but ideal. One day we let them go, to people with a large estate. That was heartbreaking."

There is a beautiful lesson in that, about love and letting go. It would have been selfish to keep your dogs if you could give them a nicer life elsewhere, wouldn't it?

"Absolutely, but I obviously didn't process that departure properly. Brando still appears in my dreams, after all these years. Then he returns home unexpectedly, and am I mad with joy.

"I often dream about my parents too: that reunion is so intensely beautiful and warm. Oh, there you are, finally! Those dreams are true to life, and the awakening is rock-hard."

Is that one of the reasons why you like being here in Antwerp, because here you feel more connected to the people that you loved?

"This is my home, my zero, I can't imagine a place in the world where I would rather live. When my mom was alive, and especially when she got sick, in between filming I tried to be with her as much as possible here in Antwerp. In the meantime I have an apartment here, my first permanent place of my own, but I've hardly been there in recent years. Now I can finally enjoy my home, I find peace, tranquility and inspiration there. I have seen fantastic sunsets on my roof terrace in recent months. So much beauty, and you can just admire it there, every day, for free. As long as you take the time to enjoy it.

"Normally I would have started filming again in April, and left for a hectic ride of at least two years, with projects that would follow each other quickly. I was at my limits, sooner or later I was going to bang my head against the wall. I feel how beneficial it is to slow down for a moment. David Lynch said that: 'Just slow things down and it becomes more beautiful'.

"As an actor you have to work in a big machine, according to a tight schedule. I have now discovered the pleasure of creating things for myself very spontaneously in my own cadence."

Is that work something you ever want to go public with?

"I want to do something with my photography someday, but I'm in no hurry. I'm also writing a film script, I've had an idea for a trilogy for a long time. It's a very personal project, and it takes time for it to crystallize into something very pure and proper. Maybe those films will come within ten years, maybe never.

"The most important thing is to keep busy. You have to look for something, anything, on which you can focus your passion, love and attention. Of course I would like to return to set, and those projects will come back later. But if I can't change anything about a situation, why worry about it?

"From a very young age I learned that there are not many certainties in life, I adapt easily to unexpected circumstances. There is one thing I can't stand, and that is feeling powerless. I never want to be the victim of a situation, I will always think: what can I do myself? Which way can I go? I have often enough stood with my back against the wall, I will always find a way out and take matters into my own hands."

So Schoenaerts decided to use this period to put Zenith - his artist name as a street artist - to hard work. Since the lockdown he has already created nine impressive murals, including one in the courtyard of the Oudenaarde prison, and one at the beginning of this month in the Antwerp Begijnenstraat, on the bare walls that form their furthest horizon for the prisoners. A moving event, he says. Not only by the touching conversations with inmates, and the forty-minute applause with which the prisoners welcomed him. "The mural contains a poem by my father. While I am there painting those beautiful words of my dad on the wall, I suddenly remember that my mom used to give meditation lessons to the prisoners there in the Begijnenstraat. I had completely forgotten about that until I stood there. How beautiful that is. Suddenly I felt my parents very tangible, very close to me."

It's a bit funny: a long time ago you were arrested for graffiti, now they invite you to prison to make a mural.

"I used to tag a lot, but I really don't like the vandalism that sometimes comes with graffiti. Defacing a facade, that's just ridiculous. But trains, bridges, tunnels.... frankly I think that's the max. Soon I'm going to do another oldskool graffiti wall, with some friends, back to the roots. But with permission, yes."

Scary dudes

The problems of the Belgian detention system are well known: outdated infrastructure, overcrowding and a system of pre-trial detention which means that some people are innocently stuck for years. Schoenaerts: "These are human lives that are destroyed by the Belgian state, isn't that scandalous?"

Schoenaerts' engagement started years ago, after meeting Hans Claus, prison director in Oudenaarde, who contacted him when he wanted to organize a screening of Le Fidèle, the film by Michaël R. Roskam starring Schoenaerts. Claus has been fighting for many years for a reform of our detention system, among others with the non-profit organization De Huizen, small-scale centers that are more focused on rehabilitation and reintegration of the detainee. How does Schoenaerts see his role? "Those murals are a kind of lubricant for me, to get attention for this problem. I am not the expert and I am certainly not a politician. This injustice touches me as a human being, and my message is clear: please listen to the people who have been working hard for decades to reform the system from the inside."

In The Mustang, your last feature film to be seen here before the lockdown, you take on the role of a prisoner who learns to tame wild horses and his demons. Has that role changed your vision?

"That rehabilitation program with mustangs really exists, and the chance of recidivism is almost zero percent. I had a conversation in the Begijnenstraat with the minister of Justice Vincent Van Quickenborne (Open Vld, ed.), and he told me that the chance of relapse here is 40 to 50 percent. Isn't that madness?

"That's what fascinates me most of all: what do we do with those detainees while they're stuck? How can we help to break the destructive patterns that put them in prison? Imprisonment is a punishment in itself, but someday we'll send those people back into society, so let's mainly support them in their self-development.

"In preparation for The Mustang, I visited prisons in the U.S., and talked to men who had been detained for 20, 30 years. Heavy guys: Aryan Brotherhood (powerful crime syndicate of neo-Nazis in American prisons, ed.), Mexican gang leaders... real scary dudes. You know what those say to me? That they live in fear every day, but they must not show weakness. Psychological counseling and things like that have their value, but that's often very cerebral. I especially believe in the healing power of art. Imagine that inmates can express all those fucked up emotions through art: I think that there is an enormous potential in this."

I heard you're playing with the idea of giving acting lessons to inmates?

"That's not a concrete plan yet, but I would love it if people from the creative sector would commit themselves to this: musicians, sculptors, dancers. Or writers who help prisoners put their own story into words.

"The cultural sector needs to start sticking its neck out. The sector is lying flat, and that's terrible. But we have to keep moving. We can all do something for the community, without being paid for it. Planting small seeds, doing something good for your fellow man, something beautiful always comes out of it."

Had you been to a prison before The Mustang?

"To visit friends, yes. In Merksplas, Hoogstraten, Hasselt, Dendermonde... We shouldn't talk about that any further. A prison is deep tristesse. Who dares to call that 'a hotel', shame on you."

This summer you painted an impressive mural in Paris in honor of George Floyd, murdered by American officers. And in Ostend last week a new mural was unveiled, with a 'decapitated' Leopold II. Is activism an important part of your street art?

"Graffiti used to be more of a style exercise for me, you want to create things that get noticed within the scene. But gradually I felt like communicating with a wider audience. I like to incorporate a lot of symbolism in my paintings, such as the cracks I photograph all over the world and then magnify them in another place. And the praying hands, a universal image of hope and faith in yourself. Art has the power to speak to our deepest emotions, and that is what binds us to the other. Connectedness, empathy, harmony, solidarity, that's the essence for me."

The corona crisis is one big exercise in empathy and solidarity. Sometimes we seem to lack that.

"I refuse to surrender to cynicism, and I surround myself with positive people who do beautiful things for others. This period would lead us to insights: how do we deal with each other? Do we help each other, or is it every man for himself? A human is such a wonderful creature, but we mess it up so much for ourselves.

"Yeah, I know. Some people who read this will think: this guy is smoking too many joints. (laughs) I don't smoke joints, and I'm not an unworldly idealist. But I will always focus my attention on the good, in spite of everything."

If you always want to see the good in people, are you sometimes disappointed?

"Yes, of course. I'm not a naive brat, I've learned to guard my boundaries. I can't please everyone all the time, and I don't let anyone rush me. I react badly when people put pressure on me because they want things from me. The perception of me that others have of me, I can't control. I don't let myself put out of balance easily anymore."

I saw that on your Instagram Stories you warned about fake profiles on social media, of people pretending to be you. That made you visibly angry.

"Really, that makes me angry. Every day I receive screenshots from people who have been tricked by crooks who approach innocent victims with my name and my pictures. There are stories of fans who have paid thousands of euros because they were promised a meet-and-greet with me. How disgusting is that? One person has transferred 14,000 euros to someone who pretended to be my manager.

"Of course, that raises questions about how gullible some people can be. But I've seen those chat conversations for myself: those criminals are terribly sneaky. They know how to play on the vulnerabilities of their victims in a very cunning way. This is manipulation and swindle of the filthiest kind.

"Really, I get physically unwell when I think about it. How can someone be so mean? If I ever catch these guys, I'm gonna bash their skulls in, I'm not kidding. Sorry."

Or: those crooks get a jail sentence, where you're going to give them acting lessons.

(laughs) "Okay, let it be clear that I think everyone should be punished for their crimes. My commitment to the prison system is not a plea for impunity, and I certainly don't want to romanticize crime.

"But when someone abuses innocent people's trust in such a cunning way, the question is: how did you derail so morally? And above all: how can we initiate a transformation in that person? Surely you can't lock someone up and expect that person to suddenly make better choices years later? First such a person has to take responsibility for his own actions."

Do you have something criminal on your conscience?

"No." (Thinks for a second) "No. Thank God. I couldn't live with that.

"I've probably hurt people in my life, like everybody else. Sometimes we just hurt people because of who we are, or because we can't fulfill what others want from us. But I have never harmed anyone consciously or criminally, no."

As a teenager you sometimes came into contact with the juvenile court, for vandalism. Do you think you could have ended up on the other side of the bars?

"Probably, a life can take strange turns sometimes."

What made you sit here today, and not get on the 'wrong' path?

"Wait... that's a good question. There's the one terrible dramatic event that caused a total turnaround in my life: when my dad went into a coma after a psychosis, and I was told he only had 24 hours left to live.

"I was 21 then, thrown out of school for the umpteenth time. I was doing graffiti and wanted to find my way creatively. But I was messing around, going with friends who... Anyway, there was latent danger, it threatened to go a little bit the wrong way.

"And then I got that phone call: come and say goodbye. Bam. The relationship with my father had been sour for years, we hardly saw each other. Until I stood there at his deathbed in intensive care... I only felt love, a wave of emotions that I had pushed down very deeply. That realization was rock-hard: this was it. My father and I will never get the chance to figure shit out, I thought.

"Long story, the rest is known: after 72 hours my father woke up from a coma against all odds. Like a plant: he could not speak, reacted to nothing or nobody. According to the chief psychiatrist, we had to accept that his condition would never improve. That was without the fighting spirit of my mother and me.

"It's because of that unlikely event that I've changed my whole lifestyle. For eight months, my mother and I went to visit my father every day. We talked to him, but he seemed to look straight through us. For hours we sat with him at the psychiatry department of Stuivenberg, how desperate those first months were also. We continued to fight, taught him to talk, to eat, to walk. A miracle, the doctors called it. Bullshit of course. It was love, dedication and stubbornness. Especially thanks to my mother, the lioness who kept fighting for him. And see how much beauty came out of it. My life then received an entirely different impulse.

"I suddenly think of an anecdote I've never told before. After a while we were allowed to take my father to the cafeteria once in a while, or to the garden. But he was absolutely not allowed to leave the hospital. Fuck it. I hid a bag of clothes for him, secretly dressed him in the toilet and took my father to the city. By bus, because I didn't have a driver's license. I wanted to stimulate his senses, test if any memories would come back. He was fond of Our Lady's Cathedral, so that's where I wanted to take him."

Matthiaske, why am I crying?

He plays it out. The written version here is only a dead script compared to the lived-through performance, right there on that dark square, just around the corner of the Arenbergschouwburg, where Matthias made his stage debut as a 9-year-old boy next to father Julien, as The Little Prince.

Matthias shows how he supported his frail dad, and how they shuffled in small, careful steps towards the cathedral. Dad looking at the ground to be sure not to fall. "I say, 'Dad, look up'. He looks up, and I see the tears rolling down his cheeks. I had never seen my father cry. 'Matthiaske,' he says, 'can you tell me why I'm crying?'

"I had already decided then that I would take my father into my house. Overconfident, yes, at that age, but they have become the most beautiful years of my life. Mom came by every day to help. Suddenly we were a bit of a family again, something we had only been for a short time when I was young."

It was at that time that you decided to become an actor. Why did you decide to become an actor?

"I had always resisted following in my father's footsteps. In my youth I mainly wanted to break away from my father, and seek my own path. I didn't want to have anything to do with him and all those loudmouths around him in the theater world. But most of all I was terrified that compared to the great Julien Schoenaerts I would never be good enough.

"Only now do I understand why I then decided to go to the conservatory. Not to become an actor, but to understand my father. We had so many years together, and now that we had been given a second chance, I wanted to get to know him as well as possible. By acting, maybe I could get closer to him." (pauses)

Sentimental fuss

He banishes the tears. It's one of the many things he has in common with his father, he says: they're both very emotional, but they hate sentimental fuss. "Come on, Matthias: breathe," he commands himself.

"Voilà, see how much beauty can come out of misery. What a chain of beautiful things came out of the fight my mother and I put up in the most hopeless situation. Who knows how differently my life would have turned out?"

"There are so many lessons in that. If we just talked about the rehabilitation of detainees, for example. It takes commitment. Not a workshop of two hours. You have to persevere, even in the event of a setback, with no guarantee of a happy ending. That's why I think it's so important to keep telling that story about my dad. Those are the values I believe in: dedication, stamina, attention, love. You can apply that to everything in life. Love is the fuel."

You often talk about your parents as if you want to keep them alive with your words.

"Because my mom and dad are the people I've loved most. With them I shared the most important moments, built the most beautiful memories. That loss is enormous. Life has been really fucking tough since they've been gone.

"That's what grabs me so much in this period. How many people have died of corona in Belgium?"

According to Google, today, on the day of the interview, the counter stands at almost 14,000 deaths.

"Fourteen thousand! Imagine how many people that has an impact on? How many people have suddenly lost their mother, father, brother, sister, best friend or neighbor? Behind those figures lie tens of thousands of poignant stories, of people who see a loved one torn from their lives. That is a mountain of unresolved grief, and far too little attention is paid to it."

Earlier during our conversation a guy had walked past coughing and maskless. It pissed Schoenaerts off: "And whining about masks or strict measures. Grow some fucking balls. Having to say goodbye to a loved one, that's the worst thing."

"Isn't that what this period teaches us? That our time here is limited? And what really counts in life: sharing moments of beauty with the people you hold most dear. All the rest is wallpaper. Having success, making movies, that's all fun. But the day you lie on your deathbed, you really don't think about the professional successes on your resume. No way."

#matthias schoenaerts #interviews #misc #by us

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mulderist · 3 years

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Wicked Game

Previous chapter || Read on A03 || tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 9

Hegal Place

Alexandria, VA

My footfalls echoed down the hallway as I approached the front door. With a firm push it swung open and I descended the short brick staircase to the sidewalk. I surveyed the familiar rowhomes across the street; small front yards bordered by thin wrought iron fences. A small child was being led by the hand down the steps of one brownstone. I waited for the kid and her mother to walk up the block then I chose the opposite direction. An older model Packard chugged down the otherwise quiet street, coughing an exhaust smoke signal as it passed. That driver should probably see his mechanic sooner rather than later.

As I walked I felt my holster sticking into my right ribs, suppose that’s what I get for hastily slipping it on. It was enough of an annoyance to force me to focus on the task at hand; finding Alex Krycek. The steady afternoon breeze brought in clouds but not enough to predict rain. I still had a few hours before sunset and wished for a drier evening than my previous outing. I sighed and hoped Scully found herself a cab.

A dog bark caught my attention and I saw an excited yellow Labrador happily wagging a tail at an average looking man. As I moved to get a better view I saw the dog connected to a leash being held by a young woman. The average man gave the dog a gentle pat on the head and must have felt my stare because he straightened up and let the woman and her furry companion pass by. I knew it was him by the way he watched the woman walk away. Krycek slipped his hands into his pockets and stood firm on the spot. I ran through a dozen different scenarios of how I would approach him; close-quarters-combat, a strong right hook, or a simple shot to the leg. I honestly didn’t want to draw too much attention. The challenge was having a conversation without sounding like two territorial alleycats. Right as I finished my thought, Krycek took off around the corner.

I swore to myself and tightly gripped the butt of my gun as I followed in pursuit. A footrace was certainly not where I wanted this to go. My lungs burned while my feet pounded against the sidewalk, a stern reminder that I needed to resume my visits to the campus track. There was a flash of a jacket down what I assumed was an alleyway. I slowed my pace and found a proper hold on my gun. I pressed against the brick wall, careful to hide my position until the right moment. Like so many times before I took a deep inhale and with the exhale I glanced around the corner. I ducked back to avoid Krycek’s fist, then I charged forward pushing him farther into the alley. He stumbled and tried a quick jab to my stomach. I tightened up right as he made contact and in return I let my gun give him a kiss on the cheek. Krycek doubled over and spat on the ground. With both hands I grabbed him by the shirt I tossed him against the wall, the tip of my Browning wedged into his abdomen.

“You know as well as I do that a bullet to the gut is a slow way to go,” I said with my left arm braced across his chest, “So you better talk.”

“Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Krycek grumbled with a crimson smile. I quickly frisked him, found his Walther and relieved him of it. I pressed my weapon back into his stomach then said,

“A little birdie told me you were at Washington General earlier today.”

“Is that so?” he mumbled.

“Cut the shit, Krycek,” I responded, applying more pressure to his chest, inching my forearm closer to his throat. He choked out a laugh,

“The redhead! Ah Mulder you sure can pick ‘em.”

“Leave her out of this!” My gun pressed harder into the soft surface of his abdomen. I saw him wince and I twisted my hand hoping I found a nerve,

“Damnit,” he hissed, “I only gave her some friendly advice.”

“Stay away from her,” I growled. He shook his head disapprovingly with a limited range of movement.

“Oh now I get it. You’re sweet on her, aren’t you --ah! -- jesus!” His assumption was cut short thanks in part to my weapon stabbing him in between the ribs. I cocked my gun and felt my jaw clench as he struggled.

“Red got herself involved when she worked on that autopsy,” Krycek sputtered.

I eased up a bit, put the hammer back down but still held my aim.

“What do you mean? Who was the stiff?” I asked, uncertain if I was going to get a truthful answer. He swallowed and licked his lips.

“A nobody by all accounts.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” I shrugged and felt like this was starting to become a waste of my time.

“The body wasn’t disposed of properly. He never should have ended up at the hospital morgue.”

Finally, some clarity. It’s as though the sea of confusion was at low tide, revealing an answer like shells on the shore. I witnessed it myself that night at the Navy Yard. They thought the cabbie would just float downriver and disappear. Now they wanted to cover their tracks as soon as that body washed up near the marina. Scully was just doing her job in the wrong place at the wrong time. Scully. I had to get back to the precinct.

“Are we done, Mulder?” Krycek asked, breaking my concentration. My attention snapped back as he was fixing his shirt.

“Not quite,” I said as I tentatively put my gun back in the holster, “I want to know one other thing; tell me your connection to Spender.”

“Spender?” Krycek’s voice was now hampered with a slur, “God, I am so tired of hearing that name.”

“Talk.”

“It’s like I told you before,” he gestured, “Spender was a hophead. Got a taste of the stuff when he was investigating Vincenti. Do you remember that tip I sold you about four months ago? Turns out your partner wanted to have a private meeting with Vincenti’s second in command. Detective Spender dealt himself right into the drug game on the government’s dime.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because,” Krycek coughed out, “Carlo Lodi told me.”

My mind worked like playing cards being shuffled, each revelation waterfalled onto another until the deck was stacked.

“You told Lodi to put the hit on Spender,” I said pointedly.

“I’m a snitch,” he stated a little too simply for my taste. “Frankly I had had enough of being the information errand boy, so I sold him out. Your partner thought he could muscle in on Vincenti’s pushers and try to expand the trade routes, so to speak. The elder Spender got wise and to keep things kosher with Vincenti and his boys, he ordered a hit.”

“Wait a minute. Did you say Spender’s father?”

“Who do you think helps keep the peace?” he replied rhetorically. I thought for a moment and chided myself for not seeing far enough up the ladder.

“Whose side are you on, Krycek?”

“My own,” he curtly answered, “I don’t care if the mob kills the whole lot of you.”

“As long as you get box seats to the show,” I said. He chuckled and spit a trail of red once again onto the pavement. There wasn’t much more I could add. No more interrogation to give. I returned his Walther and left the alley.

------

After a less than ideal cab ride, I arrived at the precinct and bypassed the front desk, heading straight for the stairwell. As I descended the steps I tried to think of how I would untangle this web I found myself in. I never fully trusted Krycek, apparently Spender did. The new information was swirling in my head and I needed to pin down the facts before I approached Skinner. But first I needed to talk to Frohike and the boys.

The door to their department was ajar, sending a quick surge of adrenaline to my chest. I pushed the door open further and entered the lab, relieved when I saw Langley flipping through a thick-bound book.

“You guys should really put a lock on that door,” I began, “never know what’ll wander in here.”

He chuckled and quipped that instead I should have a bell around my neck so they’d know when I was coming. I asked if Scully had arrived and he directed me around the corner where I practically bowled over Frohike, who clutched a blanket to his chest. I raised an eyebrow.

“I uh -- this was for our guest,” Frohike said softly. I reached over and he relinquished it, then I gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. Scully was curled into the threadbare sofa, she looked exhausted. It surprised me to see an actual piece of furniture in the lab, though I’m sure they needed something other than an army cot for those overnight cases. I unfolded the blanket and gently laid it over her sleeping frame. The sudden weight caused Scully to stir, eyelashes fluttered against the makeshift pillow of her hand. I crouched down and heard a hum escape her lips.

“Glad you made it,” she said with eyes still closed.

“True to my word,” I replied. She turned her head away from her hand and slowly blinked open her eyes.

“Did you find him?”

“I did. We had a friendly chat and a smoke.”

“What actually happened?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“He took a swing at me and I shoved him into an alley; he won’t bother you again. As it turns out, my former informant has his finger in just about every dish on the crime buffet.” I tried to adjust the blanket which had slipped down her shoulder but her arm snaked out, fingers pressed tenderly against my forearm.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Rest for a little bit. I’ll be back,” I left her with a kiss on the forehead then went to round up the boys.

Langley passed by and I gestured for him and Frohike to join me, moving towards the exam tables on the opposite side of the lab. Byers suddenly emerged from the front door with a binder in hand and I waved him over as he muttered something about a body coming in for autopsy.

“Mulder you look like something’s on your mind,” Frohike said.

“Krycek was the one who confronted Scully at the hospital,” I relayed, “After twisting some truth out of him, he told me the body she did an autopsy on should never have been found. He can’t be trusted.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Langley, scratching at a blonde temple.

“I need to give a report to Skinner, he needs to know it was Krycek that put the hit out on Spender.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph it was all true,” Byers exclaimed as he folded his arms.

“We still need to find out who killed Lodi and his henchman,” I said, running a hand over my neck, “It had to come from whoever is at the top of the food chain.”

“Do you think Krycek could actually be pulling the strings? I mean he’s basically been lying to you from the start,” Frohike countered, pushing the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. I nearly laughed aloud but thought long and hard at the potential of Krycek being a crime boss. It would be a hell of a curve ball to try and take a swing at. Langley, Byers, and Frohike exchanged looks as I continued to ponder the question.

“No,” I said, “but I appreciate the creativity. He isn’t loyal to either the DCPD or Vincenti’s mafia family. The profile I’ve developed is that he’s a man who would just like to sit back and watch the city burn.”

The shrill sound of a telephone ring interrupted our conversation. It continued until Frohike broke away to answer it. I heard him agree with the party on the other line, then he shot a glance in my direction. He nodded then quickly hung up.

“The Captain must have a sixth sense or have a bug somewhere down here,” Frohike said as he walked back over.

“I certainly hope we’re not bugged,” Byers responded with a quick look up at the ceiling.

“He wants me upstairs?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Double time,” quipped Frohike. I rolled my shoulders and as I turned to leave I heard a new voice say,

“Leaving so soon.”

The boys seemed to scatter, save for Frohike who was glued to the spot when Scully stepped into the main area of the lab. Her stark white nurse uniform fit a little too perfectly amongst the shelves of science and macabre medical arts. She approached me and Frohike got the hint, trying to busy himself with tidying up the counter behind him.

“The boss is requesting my presence,” I told her, “And I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him as well.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, a look of concern in her eyes, “I could give a statement about what happened.”

“Sorry Scully, this invite is for a party of one.”

“Are you coming back?”

“Planned on it, unless they burn me at the stake.”

“So dramatic,” she shook her head and reached for my hand with slender fingers. With a quick squeeze she added, “As much as you hate to hear this, I’m involved now. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. Let me help where I can.”

I saw Byers timidly approach out of the corner of my eye.

“Excuse me Miss Scully,” he said with a kind wave, “there is a body due to arrive for an autopsy if you’d like to observe.”

“I’m sure we could use her assistance,” Frohike piped up, “that is, if she wouldn’t mind.”

I tried to think of a jab but she silenced me. She gave a pleasant smile in their direction then leaned a little closer, the faint scent of her perfume hit my senses.

“Go. Don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

I got caught in her blue eyes, only able to manage a simple nod of agreement. My hand slipped from hers and I left the quiet of the forensic lab, bracing myself for the roar of the bullpen and Captain Skinner.

#i wrote this #historical au #xf fanfic #mulder pov #my fic #noir fiction #hey look an update #xfiles

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mochi-marie · 3 years

Text

❛ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . ❜

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 : 「 opened 」

there is a five character maximum per request, and a two character minimum! the only exception would be for requests like : “ ( character ) as a boyfriend ”, etc!

you must specify the gender of the s/o, whether that be female, gender neutral, or male! just specify, or else it will default to gender neutral!

you may request the same topic for different characters, meaning you can request part-two’s or part-three’s, etc! piggy-backing off of this, you may also request most-to-least likely asks!

i only write for boku no hero academia and haikyuu!!, so please don’t request another fandom! all requests will be written pre time-skip ( as i myself am a highschool student ), unless you specify time-skip or i mention that they are time-skip in the author’s note!

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇-𝐔𝐏𝐒 : 「 closed 」

word of notice — everything written below is a requirement unless stated otherwise! if you do not fill out all the requirements, i will simply delete your ask!

please include your sexuality / gender preference for the match-up, as well as your pronouns! if you aren’t comfortable with sharing your sexuality, please just say what gender you would prefer for the match-up!

include a thorough description of your physical appearance, including but not limited to — height, body shape ( if comfortable, if not, don’t worry about it <3 ), eye color, hair color + length + texture, etcetera!

include any physical signature item or marking that you think makes you unique! whether it be freckles, a birth mark, scars or tattoos, or a jacket you wear often, etcetera!

give a thorough description about your personality! include your mbti, zodiac, enneagram if you know it, and then elaborate further on how you think you act day-to-day with new people versus how you act around beloved ones!

please include your hobbies! my definition of a hobby for this is an activity you do often, whether daily or weekly, and makes you happy! include your fashion style, and any big interests of yours!

tell me about you and romance! tell me your top three love languages in order, whether you’re shyer or bolder in the relationship, and what your ideal lover is like! tell me your ideal date!

( not required : ) are you an early bird or a night owl? what is one thing you cannot live without? favorite song? what is one negative trait about yourself that you think you have, if any?

please make sure you specify whether you would like a bnha or haikyuu matchup!

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇-𝐔𝐏𝐒 : 「 closed 」

again, everything written below if a requirement unless stated otherwise! make sure to include everything required!

please send in a few pictures of yourself, preferably ones that you think show you off in the best way, as well as show off who you are as a person / your vibe!

please specify if you want your pictures to remain hidden or if you are okay with letting them be seen! if you are not okay with letting them be shown, please send in another ask with no pictures attached ( you do not have to copy and paste all the information down again ), or stay off anon so i may tag you and then delete the ask with the pictures!

if you are not comfortable with sending me pictures, just include a very thorough and detailed description of yourself! i will not accept anything like : “(color) hair, (color eyes), and (height)”. i cannot work with something that small, sorry!

tell me about you and romance! tell me your top three love languages in order, whether you’re shyer or bolder in the relationship, and tell me your ideal date!

( not required : ) are you an early bird or a night owl? what is one thing you cannot live without? favorite song?

please make sure you specify whether you would like a bnha or haikyuu matchup!

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 「 closed 」

once more, all information below is required within the request, unless stated otherwise!

the moodboard will be 3x3, all aesthetics found off of Pinterest! please, and i repeat please, do not save the moodboard and then claim it as your own!! i spend hours working on my mood boards to find aesthetics that i like and are up to my standard ( that includes hue / tone matching to all the other aesthetics, keeping in mind information about you and your self ship, finding high-quality pictures, etc )!

send your self ship — break it down to who your self ship is with, for example mezuku ( melody x izuku ) — and then proceed to include the following :

include a description about your self-ship, what kind of relationship you both have, and an example of the kind of date you both would have!

as well, include your favorite color and your favorite aesthetic, along with some hobbies of yours and your top three love languages! also, include how you act in a relationship ( or how you think you would act in a relationship with the character of choice )!

you may choose one of your selfships per request! i only accept bnha and haikyuu as the fandoms!

#🪧 — REQUESTING GUIDE / RULES

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ohmrlove · 4 years

Note

Hello! I’ve been asking a bunch of people to do this request because I want to see everyone’s different headcanons. How would the MLQC boys react to MC being a single mother? She never told them she has a 7yr son because they never thought to ask and we’ll call him Liam instead of “her son”. So they found out when Liam ran to her. MC is still young since Liam was born from unfortunate events like rape (she loves her son to death). How would the guys try to bond with Liam?

Trigger warning: ask centers around rape

🍷 Victor 🍷

He never would have imagined you were a single mother, let alone to a seven-year old. You were really good at hiding it!

It’s likely he overheard a snippet of a phone call when trying to approach you about work. A tiny little ‘love you mommy!’ on the phone during a break he didn’t know you were taking

Is kind of blown away you can strike the work-life balance and avoid being so consumed. Victor, himself, is bad at balancing intimate relationships outside of work so you mystify him

Gets super curious about this kid and slyly devises some work event that it’d be okay to bring them to

Realizes it’s a bad idea when he’s overwhelmed with the sheer amount of people--and kids--he has to greet, but likes that your kid was pretty quiet (shy) and sat at a table with you

He was playing with the big, fancy cloth napkins and Victor decided to fold one up in a semi-complicated design next to his

You introduce the two and it starts as Victor showing him how to fold napkins and teaching him about food

Casually drops Souvenir having a ‘Little Chefs day’ and encourages you to bring him

Victor can’t be the one running the class (obviously) so Mr. Mills does it and he helps grab all the stuff to make mac n’ cheese

Your son follows along, gets messy, and corrects Victor on how much cheese mac n’ cheese ACTUALLY needs. (“You want it to be really good! The best, like angels singing in your mouth, and that means lots of cheese!”)

Victor’s stomach hurts from all the cheese, but the whole thing was amusing

He’s suddenly ‘in the neighborhood’ a lot, and comes to sit with you and your son

When you have to collaborate with him on work, Victor insists you bring him so you don’t waste money on a babysitter. (”There’s two of us and one of him, it can’t be that hard.”)

Eventually learns the truth after the two of you have grown much closer and takes a deep, personal interest in making sure Liam never has that awful person for a father figure

“Just because” trips to places the three of you would like

Is basically your boyfriend/the dad figure but won’t own up to it unless super pissed off or being challenged in public. Will admit to it more when you’re married.

📢 Gavin 📢

Kind of dense about it. Had suspicions but no proof, and when he saw you two side by side, you picking him up to hug him, the similarities were PRETTY OBVIOUS

Birdcop felt kinda dumb

Becomes hyperfocused after that. When did this happen? A SEVEN YEAR OLD?! He never would’ve guessed!

Is worried the kid will be the total opposite of him--not super active, hates loud noises, etc--but is glad he can break the ice by showing him a cop car or his motorcycle

Answers all the typically excited job questions as best he can

Conveniently shows up at a school fitness day as a supervisor or some safety tie-in with the police department

Is happy to see him being nice to the other students and participates a little but mostly watches with you on the sidelines

Doesn’t ask you some of his questions since there’s other people nearby, but invites you two to ‘a little place’ he was going to afterwards

One dinner date turns into a few more, and Gavin is grasping at straws trying to invite you to stuff just to hang out. He’s got a soft spot for the kid and he sees his eyes light up and Gavin just can’t.

They turn into weekend buddies--fun at the park, movies, the whole nine yards!

He realizes this dynamic is getting pretty serious when your kid invites him to an award night at school. It’s just you two and Gavin is embarrassed but soooo proud! His heart is fluttering!

You tell him the truth about Liam’s conception and Gavin can only HOPE the guy is already dead. Boy is MAD. The news reported some wind issues for the next few hours, even into the next day.

Probably has a dark circle of people and MAKES SURE the guy doesn’t cause you any problems and stays FAR AWAY.

Focuses on being a good figure in Liam’s life.

The type to go ‘I know that kid’ and cheer him on at school functions. He’s got a distant older brother/aloof but warm personality so the transition to dad is going to be natural and hard to see.

🔬 Lucien 🔬

Probably figured it out before you ever told him. Considered that he’s a cousin/nephew or the kid happens to look somewhat like you (features can be common, etc.) but his gut says otherwise

Now that he thinks about it, he’s seen the kid off in the background when he dropped by your house sometimes. He just assumed you were babysitting a neighbor child.

When the two of you come to see him, holding hands, he knows. You’d run back to Lucien’s house and picked something up for him while he was stuck in a lecture.

Is too nosy for his own good--no matter how subtle--and offers to treat you for the errand. Whatever your kid wanted, he picked.

Lucien’s a people-watcher and found your kid’s table manners pretty interesting and he was pleased to note he wasn’t overly loud.

Their interests didn’t perfectly line up but Lucien’s absolutely voracious when it comes to learning and reading, so he had SOMETHING to say about Liam’s likes. Didn’t mind learning more from your excited, scatterbrained kid. It’s always funny to see people so passionate.

If he likes to sketch, Lucien could probably turn a sketch into a tiny robot or something. That puts him high on Liam’s list!

If he’s a more active/outdoor child, Lucien will invite the two of you along on a less-serious version of field research

Lucien can somehow always find the most interesting but less public city events, so it makes it fun and mysterious to tag along

Volunteers to babysit him when you’re super busy

They swap books and Lucien seems to have extra movie tickets lately

You guys drive to the Research Center to check on him one night when his experiment runs late and Lucien knows that this is a thing. You guys are a thing now. You’ve shown him that dedication and he’ll give it back two-fold (at least).

When he realizes no father figure’s coming in to make a fuss, Lucien has several theories. Finally inquires over a cup of tea, late at night when Liam’s asleep.

“Although certainly not ideal, Liam’s proof that good things can come out of a bad situation.”

He’s pretty vigilant about renewing any court-based paperwork that involves keeping the father away. Would probably kill him to really get him out of the picture, but has too many ideas and would rather not bother. The ultimate victory would be yours and Liam’s success, and he’ll invest in that instead.

🎤 Kiro 🎤

You and Liam were out buying groceries and running errands on your day off. Kiro was out (in disguise) trying to follow the diet his nutritionist set up...plus a few bag of chips

The two of you ran into each other at a booth giving away free samples. Kiro ABSOLUTELY can never turn down samples because they’re too small to matter and they’re usually junk food.

He says hello vaguely, as always, but when the kid says ‘Mommy, who’s that?’ Kiro absolutely loses it with disbelief and excitement

You rush him back to your house before he can blow his cover and the media gets the wrong idea

Kiro’s naturally a big kid at heart, and with his charming Evol, it won’t be hard for him to connect. Not that he’d use it.

If he gets too excited, it’ll happen accidentally.

He’s used to kids being excited to meet him so it’s a pretty easy introduction.

They talk superheroes, food, and all kinds of things!

If your kid’s not a big singer or dancer, Kiro’s more than happy to show him how to play the guitar or drums the next time you hang out. Kind of regrets that last one. But hey, he’s happy! That counts for something!

These two TOTALLY have a system where Liam brings him ‘contraband’ food when you visit and he HAS to take it because it would be rude to refuse a fan’s gift. Savin is not pleased.

Liam starts to understand that Kiro’s really busy or can’t go outside a lot/has to be private, so when the three of you hang out you usually bingewatch stuff or play video games. There’s always waaay too much takeout, but it’s delicious!

If you go to Kiro’s place, he probably installs a little fake sports hoop so they can play indoor games

Sometimes drops little coded messages in live vids (”And a special hello to my main man L!”) he loves it because it drives the internet absolutely nuts with trying to figure out who it is

He’ll casually arrange phone calls/voice messages from any of your son’s favorite TV characters/actors and make it seem like a ‘no biggie’ kind of thing. Kid super loves him then!

Not 100% what Kiro was aiming for--just trying to do something nice--but he’ll take it!

When he bothers to share any good news with Kiro, that’s when he knows he’s in the circle. You guys are close now.

When Kiro’s out supporting bands of designing a new stage line up, he likes your son’s input and will probably add a few of his favorite bands just so he has a reason to come.

It’s an unlikely family, but it’s a happy one. A happy one that is guarded to the teeth and Kiro has no qualms about bulldozing that disgusting excuse of a human in court.

May or may not put out a hit as Key. He’s a master hacker and could get rid of traces pretty easily

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abuskinswarrior · 4 years

Text

find our way back... part 2

I had my last class last Friday, which means it’s officially summer!! i have two more classes before i can say i’m a college graduate, but i still get a cap and gown so, i’ve graduated college y’all!

Tag-list: @pprettyboyreid @genuisgub @ataidyl @andiebeaword @dreatine @cncopmwhoore @sixx-sic-sixx @nanocoool @kookiescooky3

~~If you want to be tagged on this, let me know!~~

Warnings: fighting, blood, mentions of death

Summary: Persephone goes to a friend to drink, but gets a roped into talking instead.

Words: ~1830

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Persephone stepped out of her car rolling her neck. She had been driving for a few days, heading to the one place she knew she was always welcome. She needed two things: a drink and a voice of reason (not that she would ever admit to the second one). She opened the old wooden door, the bell above chiming, alerting the bartender.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment.” He smiled at her, while she looked him over. He had a round face that made his eyes disappear when he smiled. His large clammy hands held the bottle. Persephone didn’t recognize him and he clearly didn’t know her otherwise he wouldn’t have asked a such a stupid question.

“Can I see some ID?” He wiped his hands on his apron, waiting. Persephone scoffed. She wondered what kind of people her friend was hiring. Anybody working here should know who she was, considering she’s been a regular for the last twenty years or so.

“You’re clearly new here, so I’ll let that slide. Get me a whiskey neat.” She compelled him. His eyes glazed over, nodding his head. “And let Isabella know I’m here.”

“He doesn’t have to; I heard your voice.” Persephone turned around. Walking down the steps, a tall redhead was walking towards her.

Isabella and Persephone met around twenty years ago. Isabella had bought the building Persephone was using to hide her valuables. They had become fast friends, Persephone offering to keep the bar she was running open, by being her number one customer as long as she could keep storing her belonging in the attic.

“Iz!” She gave her a side hug, both of them sitting at the bar. The man handed her drink to her and she took a large gulp.

“Where have you been?” There was no malice or accusation, pure curiosity in her voice.

“I was taking care of some business.” Persephone was being intentionally vague. She didn’t really feel like getting into anything with her friend right now.

“You don’t work.” Iz scoffed at you. “What business could you have possibly been doing?” The wheels were turning in her head and before Persephone could say anything, Iz spoke again. “Oh, don’t tell me you went and saw Spencer.”

Persephone moved her lips to the side, debating if she was going to say anything.

“If you killed anyone, you have to tell me.” She whispered to her. Persephone bit her lip, thinking. She wasn’t actually sure if Debbie had died, but she knew that Spencer would definitely make sure she wouldn’t. She knew that answering these questions would make them head into topics she didn’t want to get into, but if she didn’t Iz would just keep bothering her.

“I didn’t kill anybody.” Persephone defended herself. “It was a close call, but I’m, like, pretty sure she’s not dead.”

“Seph,”

“What?” Persephone motioned for another drink, after downing hers. “It’s not like she was all goodie goodie. She’s the one that convinced her friend to leave, which caused all the murders in the first place, so”

“So, you didn’t kill anyone this time.” Iz let out a premature sigh of relief.

“What do you mean ‘this time’?” Persephone looked at Iz. She had an inkling to what her redheaded friend was talking about, but if she was going to accuse Persephone of doing anything, Iz was going to say the words.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, no I don’t.” Persephone gripped her glass slightly tighter. “Please enlighten me.”

“I’m talking about Maeve.”

Persephone’s face remained emotionless. “What?”

“This isn’t the first time, you’ve gone off the deep end when it came to Spencer’s love life.”

“When were the other times?” Persephone challenged.

“Uh, Lila, Andie,”

“I could’ve killed Lila for kissing Spencer. I didn’t though.” She pointed her finger at Iz. “Andie, she was a nobody. It wouldn’t have lasted.”

“But you killed Maeve.” Iz stated, rather than asking.

“She was different, and on a technicality, I didn’t.” Persephone got up, pushing her glass to the bartender. “She already had a crazy stalker, I just pushed some things along.”

“Bullshit.” Iz stood up motioning the bartender to get the patrons out of the bar. Persephone was too busy trying to calm her anger before it got out of control. She knew that what happened to Maeve was not ideal, but how was she supposed to predict the future?

“Excuse me?” Iz knew this was a warning. She knew she should have backed down, but she probably had a death wish because she pushed the subject.

“Do you wanna know what I think?”

“Iz,” Persephone took in a deep breath. “I want you to choose your next words very carefully.”

“I think you found out about Maeve and you orchestrated the entire thing to get rid of her, so your precious, baby, Spencer would fall right back into your arms. Because let’s face it, you refuse to believe that he no longer loves you and that maybe, you aren’t all that you think you are!”

Flashback - Spencer’s Apartment, 2013

Persephone had known about someone new in Spencer’s life as soon as the first few letters had gone out. She let it go at first not thinking it was a big deal, but when she started noticing Spencer making frequent trips to phone booths, she got suspicious. She started following him, listening in on the conversations realizing that he was falling for her. She was upset, and had looked her up, easily finding her name and her parents. After a while, she got an address and ‘convinced’ Maeve to meet up with Spencer in person. She knew her stalker wouldn’t be far behind and after that meeting, she knew they weren’t going to last anyway. She hadn’t expected that the crazy bitch would kill her though.

She was in Chicago handling some business when she got a voicemail from Spencer.

“Persephone, you answer your phone, right now. If I find out you had anything to do with Maeve, I will hunt you down.” She furrowed her eyebrows. Maeve hadn’t cut ties off with Spencer yet? Maeve knew after they met face to face, she was supposed to break things off. She called back leaving a voicemail of her own.

“Spencer if this is your way of asking me to come home, you have a weird way of showing it. I’m in Chicago right now, but if you want me home, you’re going to have to say the words.” Persephone was slightly offended that Spencer had even thought she knew Maeve (even if she did know). It wasn’t until later in the evening that she got a call from him just whispering her name, she booked the next flight to D.C.

Spencer’s apartment was a mess. He hadn’t showered in days, he couldn’t remember the last time he fed, and he definitely did not remember calling her.

But there she stood. Outside his apartment.

“Spence?” She spoke hesitantly. The door remained open, an invisible barrier between them. She didn’t dare move.

“Kore,” Spencer breathed the words out before collapsing on the floor. He had no energy to remain upright. Persephone moved quickly, closing the door, placing Spencer’s head in her lap as he sobbed into her stomach while she leaned against the door.

They rested there until the next day when she heard movement outside. She listened in learning it was his co-workers checking in. The doorbell rang, but they both ignored it. Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Knock twice if you're conscious.”

She looked down at the boy sleeping in her lap. She knocked twice for him, wanting to make sure they didn’t just barge in. Hearing them leave, she shook Spencer, waking him up, half dragging him to the couch.

She wanted to scream at him. Why call her, angry and then call her for comfort, but she couldn’t. Not when he was so clearly distraught.

“Come on, Little Bug.” She moved the hair out of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Where do you keep your blood? When was the last time you fed?”

Spencer shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Persephone closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She would not let her anger get the best of her. Maybe later, but not now.

“Tell me about her?” Spencer looked confused, thinking she was tricking her. “I mean it. I’m going to listen, you tell me about her.”

So Spencer did. He talked for a few hours about all the interactions they had and what had happened to her. Persephone watched the small light come back in his eyes when he talked and she could feel her heart crack just waiting to break.

“You fell in love with her.” Persephone’s voice was barely above a whisper. Spencer nodded softly, looking over at Persephone. Throughout his talking, she had gotten further away from him and she was on the other end of the couch, her knees pulled up, protecting herself from pain.

“Not as much I love you though.” He leaned over, brushing a hair out of her face. Persephone closed her eyes, wanting to believe his words. Spencer knew she didn’t believe him, but he didn’t know what to say or do. His mind was loopy, lack of blood getting the best of him. His phone dinged with a new voicemail. He picked it up, listening to it. He looked over at Persephone, but she was gone, as if she was never there.

Present Day

Persephone lost it. She grabbed the cup in her hands, throwing it at Iz who dodged it. Persephone attacked her, pulling Iz’s head back before punching her in the gut. Iz bent over letting out a grunt. Persephone did not hold back, throwing punch and after punch and kick after kick. She had over 500 years on Iz and was the stronger, more experienced one.

“Maeve was innocent. The only thing she was guilty of was falling in love. I can’t fault her for that. Yes, I wanted her out of the picture, but she didn’t deserve to die. I can blame Spencer for being an adulterous whore, though.” She went to kick Iz, but she caught her leg. She pushed her to the floor.

Iz broke one of the chair legs, knowing the only way to get the upper hand was to injure Persephone. She moved quickly, before Persephone could get her barrings back. She stuck the splintered wood into her abdomen, breaking it off inside her. Persephone groaned in pain, and before Iz could stop her, Persephone stood up, standing in front of her and broke her neck.

“How about you sleep it off?” She spit out some blood from her mouth, pulling out the wooden leg. She could feel pieces of wood still inside her not allowing her to heal properly. She looked over at the bar, the bartender was standing in fear at the fight he just witnessed. She walked over to him, pulling a bottle of whiskey out.

“Come here.” She waved her hand over. The man slowly made his way over.

“Please don’t kill me.” His eyes were wide, his bottom lip shaking slightly.

“I’m not.” She took a swig from the bottle. “Now, when she wakes up, you are going to offer your blood to her. Tell her, Persephone isn’t done with her yet.”

She walked out the door, covering her stomach with her arm, heading to her car. She reclined the seat as far as it would go, before sticking her hand into the open wound, trying to pull out all the splinters. She cursed and groaned, as a few of the smaller pieces lodged further into her body. She knew that if she kept this up, the pieces might make it to her heart and she was not ready to die. She sat up, wiping her hands off with the baby wipes she kept in her car before driving off to the one place that she knew was always stocked with blood.

What she didn’t see, however was the bartender who had instead, left the bar shortly after her, talking on the phone, about her.

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mushroommouth · 3 years

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Reworked + Expanded S.J. Lore- Now with EXTRA BUMMERS!

(---submitted by @transistor-rhythm-909)

This is going to say an awful lot about my self worth that I’m doing this to my self insert, BUT

(There is a mention of suicide ideation in here, so uhhh do please tag for that cos I can’t seem to on the browser submission page)

The first major change that sets up the angsty stuff: I’ve decided upon is that he doesn’t do part time work at Dom’s workplace anymore- he still met Dom a few years back and before Mira came into the picture (I wanna say probably around the time Son of the Sun took place, which in my mind was when Cody was about 3 or 4). Where he met Dom I’m not sure, but their relationship progresses more or less the same way- as does S.J.’s relationship with Mira when she enters the picture.

The reason for this change is ‘cos I’ve decided to have S.J.’s sole place of employment be Kathy’s Store, as you can probably figure out. Not inherently angsty on its own, but, well…

As we know, S.J. rolled into town with not much travel cash left and desperately needing a job. He didn’t escape a bad home life or tragic circumstances when he left England, he just felt… stagnant there. Didn’t really know what he wanted to do with his life (as whilst he does make music like IRL me, for him it’s decidedly a hobby, not his career choice). Unfortunately, travelling across America when you don’t drive is Pricey, so. He found himself drawn to Kathy’s store, entirely unsure why- and pretty much from the words “'scuse me lass, you hiring?”, Kathy seemed up for helping him out. Not in an overly sentimental way, mind, but she pretty much said “yeah sure, could use the help, you can use the room upstairs 'til you can find yer own place- by the by, here’s the apt. listings in the paper”.

For the first couple of months his life was pretty normal- he wasn’t allowed all the way in the back of the store and some of Kathy’s quirky behaviours stood out to him, but he rolled with it. Then, one day, he got unintentionally caught in the crossfire between Kathy and Em; I need to work out specific details, but the end result of this is that S.J. essentially became aware not only of the supernatural… existing, but also gained a similar sort of “medium awareness” that Kathy and Em possess. He doesn’t necessarily view himself as a character in a story, and the world he’s in one big narrative, at least not literally, but he’s at least on a similar level of omnipotence as Kathy and Em are now. That is all he has, though; the knowledge. He has no godly powers, no magical capability. He’s still dead normal, otherwise.

This is part of what prompts him to stay in Kathy’s employ, even though she straight up tells him he should walk away and not endanger himself further- after all by then, he has his own place, he’s got cash saved up, and he can find work elsewhere. But S.J. says simply “Now I know what you two do, I can’t just pretend life is the way it was. I’m a part of this now, whether I like it or not.”

Kathy looks extremely guilty for a sec, but he continues; “besides, now I know exactly why you look so sad and so tired all the time. After how kind you were to me- a total stranger- when I rolled up outta nowhere, it wouldn’t sit right with me to leave you in the lurch. You look out for the whole town; let me look out for you.”

So S.J.’s path in live is set; he’s a semi omnipotent being who can’t do much with the knowledge he has except be very, very snarky. He can’t ever go back to his original home even if he wanted to without that knowledge. Factor in that he was already depressed and anxiety riddled to begin with, and you can imagine that if S.J. tried living a normal life and just ignoring this new info… he’d crack under the pressure. And the guilt of leaving Kathy behind. And the stronger guilt of leaving Dom and Miranda alone in a town that he now knows does have it’s hostile secrets that could put them in danger.

And that eats up at him, sometimes. He never intended on going back to England when it was an option, even though he sometimes missed it, but now he can’t he finds he misses it more. He visits, sure, but never longer then a week, and usually only at Christmas. The rest of the time, it’s vid calls or nada, and that’s not the same. And he can’t tell his parents, his friends from home, what he knows- they’ll think he’s mad. He knows he’d think someone was mad if they told him what he knows, if he didn’t know it himself.

But, there is a sweet along with that bitter; Dom and Miranda love him very much, and he loves them. They fill his heart in ways that people back home never did, and though that doesn’t fill the void, it makes it easier when he misses home. He and Kathy grow closer as well- again, not romantically (it’s only IRL me that crushes on Kathy I’m afraid), but as professionals, as friends, as mentor and mentee. And he can- and does- help mitigate some of the crisis’ that befall the town, major and minor, with his limited skillset but vast knowledge. And as it turns out, all S.J. has ever really wanted to do is to help people; to love them and look after them; to do what he can to make other people safe and happy, however small and brief that happiness may sometimes be.

And that keeps him going. Even in his darkest days, when he seriously considers ending his life… he finds he can’t. He can’t leave those he loves, near and far, behind. He can’t hurt them like that. To do so would be a betrayal of his most core ideal: to do no harm, and to love like the world is ending.

Part of why the Micoverse fan-verse I’ve constructed for me stories is given the name “Because I Know How Strong Love Is” comes from the fact that S.J. honestly and earnestly believes in the strength that can be drawn from love- not just romantic or sexual, but familial, platonic, love and passion for concepts and interests, the entire spectrum of love as a concept. He knows, deeply and truly, how in many cases that can save anyone. And in spite of the knowledge he knows, that belief has not changed. No matter what he faces, he won’t stop believing. Em herself can actively try everything in her playbook to break him, and sometimes he may- but she cannot take that belief from him. And he rubs that in her face as much as he can, cos to play off those drawings from the other day, she can say 'I’ll destroy everything you love <3’, and he’ll respond with “That won’t stop me loving, lass. Do your worst.” knowing that she will, and not caring; no matter how disadvantageous his position again her or anything else, he’ll go down fighting and swearing- if he goes down.

(which he sometimes does, but there is one small perk that awakening gave him, even if he is not fully aware of it; death doesn’t stick, to him or to anyone. Not completely, no matter how hard Em or The Shape tries. He remembers each death as though it were a dream and is suspicious that it probably did happen, but he can’t count on that; it doesn’t stop him laying down his life willingly if he feels he must).

TL;DR my self insert is technically aware that he’s a character and is also aware of the true nature of Micoverse’s world and the many universes beyond, but that doesn’t stop him living a life of love and peace and as much fun as he can muster, and in the face of evil or cruelty he stands by his convicting that love wins every time- and will actively make it win if given the chance. (he, uh, doesn’t reveal this info to anyone beyond Kathy though. at least in idea situations; given the in-flux nature of aus, side stories, canon and non canon stuff there will be times where they do become aware somehow- like Casual Danger dialogue- but generally he keeps it on the down low unless he has no choice to reveal what he knows)

This was all btw inspired by that “I’ll destroy everything you love <3” drawing, because something about S.J.’s response of “I know, but I’ll be sassy about it” really made me think 'oh, he KNOWS. he’s got access to the knowledge she and Kathy does. that’s a show of his hand’ and I just kinda wanted to run with it. It won’t always be relevant to every single story- and of course I’d never consider S.J. a canon micoverse character (unless you thought of something neat you could do with him anyway)- but it is a part of his character now innit. Our Boy Knows What’s Up.

#THIS IS SO GOOD #submission

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big-bad-ulf · 4 years

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Hear You Me || Layla & Ulfric

Location: Graham and Frankie’s Apartment Complex

Timing: The early hours of May 30th, 2020

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf and @laylacooke

Content: Family death mentions, Grief

Description: Ulfric breaks the news to Layla about Celeste’s death

The knock on the door at Frankie and Graham’s apartment was ominous. She had spent all night tossing and turning and for that reason, she had ended up on the floor in a small, little corner in Frankie’s bedroom. It’s also why she was the first one up and sitting on the couch with the tv turned down low as she stared into space thinking about the day before. The knock had been the thing to draw Layla’s attention back to reality, and without thinking, she automatically got up and walked to the door. Opening it up, she saw Ulfric standing there, but no Ariana. No Celeste, “Ulf…”

Ulfric almost groaned when Layla opened the door. Damned wolf hearing, she’d been so fast, he’d been hoping for a few moments longer of waiting on the doorstep figuring out what to say. Instead, he found himself stumped. “Layla… Hello. I’m sorry I asked you to leave on such short notice,” he apologized, realizing now how it could have easily been misconstrued as him tossing out after he’d expressly promised not to do that. It had seemed kinder at the time than just letting her sleep ignorantly surrounded by Celeste’s memories or telling her and having her stay up all night on the roof with him to wait for Ariana’s return, but now he was unsure if he’d done it for her so much as because he hadn’t been up to speaking the words aloud to anyone yet. He had promised Ari he’d take on this responsibility for her though, so he’d find a way to now. “Is there somewhere private we could go and talk?” He looked inside cautiously, unsure if her friends would still be around.

Layla had known something was going on, and yet, again, she had felt left out in the cold. It seemed as though she was always the last to find out things from the other wolves. As if she would never fully fit in with the pack, and while him asking her to leave hadn’t necessarily crossed her mind as him kicking her out, it did sit uneasily with her for the remainder of the night, especially after the lingering sound of the howl remained in her mind. Simon’s message to her hadn’t helped either. If Winn’s mother calling and Winn texting hadn’t been enough, whatever this was, had been thrown onto her shoulders too, and now, she was about to find out what was really going on, “They’re both still asleep, but we can leave. I can come back for my stuff later.” She didn’t want to wake them up, let alone have Graham hear anything that was going on.

Ulfric considered her proposition for a minute, contemplating where they could go. He couldn’t bring her back home, that was the whole reason they were here in the first place, nor could he think of any other venue that would be ideal to break the news he had to tell her. “Maybe we don’t have to go that far,” he counter-offered, spying a fire escape snaking up the side of the apartment building. The roof would be good, private but open, as he suddenly realized that the thought of being trapped in a small room with Layla and words of Celeste’s deaths was rather unbearable. He led the way up the spiraling staircase in silence, pondering how best to initiate his explanation of the events that had occurred on prom night, though he hadn’t come up with much of an answer by the time he arrived on rooftop, pacing as he waited for her to reach the top too. “You were told someone picked up the bounty on Ariana and Celeste, yes?” He queried softly once she did. The beginning, that was usually a good place to start.

She wasn’t sure where they needed to go, but him wanting absolute privacy made her more nervous than she already was. How bad could this conversation be? When he spotted the staircase leading to the roof, she reluctantly followed him. Did she want to know? Could her heart take what he was about to reveal? And why wasn’t Ari there? She was the one that broke the news to Layla. She was the one that made sure she was okay. She was the one that had rescued her from the dumpster and sleeping under bridges and in seedy motels. Was Ulfric about to tell her that Ariana wasn’t coming home? She pondered this all the way upstairs, and when she made it to the top, she tried to prepare herself the best she could for whatever news was about to come, “Y-Yeah...Celeste told me that when I first moved in with you guys. Ulfric?” Her warm brown eyes held a heavy sadness behind them as she peered into his own eyes looking for anything that would give her some kind of heads up.

Ulfric tried to meet Layla’s eyes as he searched for his next words, but seeing the sadness already reflected there, he pulled his gaze away. Instead, he fixated on the horizon behind her where a patch of the sky still appeared slightly hazy from the smoke that had filtered out of the abandoned warehouse on the docks districts. “Celeste’s parents… They slipped Ari some kind of sedative at the prom, took her hostage, wanted to draw Celeste out so they could make her watch them kill her. We managed to get Ari out,” he barrelled through, wanting to assure her of Ariana’s escape, but he knew it would be cruel to allow Layla to build up hope that everything had worked out after that. To allow her to think that maybe Ari was a little worse for wear but that otherwise things would continue the way they were. So, he barely paused for breath before adding. “But Celeste didn’t make it. I’m sorry-- I promised she could take the lead. It was her vengeance to take and I thought-- I should have…” He trailed off, a thousand better actions, judgments, and plans he could have made filling the space between them. Unable to settle on one he just repeated. “I’m sorry.”

Layla listened closely as Ulfric explained what had happened. She didn’t want to miss anything or to make him have to repeat anything. When she heard Ariana’s name and that she was safe, relief came to her. But the short pause caused Layla’s breath to hitch in her throat. And when she heard that Celeste hadn’t made it, her heart stopped beating, “Wh-What?” Tears began to fill her eyes. And her hand fell to her side, where some of the stitches had remained from the last time they had really got to sit down and talk to one another. The last time Celeste had given her advice and saved her from bleeding out from another stupid teenage situation she had gotten herself into. Her hand covered her mouth in disbelief as she let out a muffled cry. And then her mind went back to Ariana and the howl. That had been the reason she howled. Crying out because the girl who had become her sister was lying dead at the hands of hunters. At the hands of her own parents. The woman that Layla had shared a similar history too. The only person that seemed to understand what she was going through, more than anybody, was dead, “No-No this...this can’t be right.” She began pacing back and forth anxiously. Fiercely wiping her eyes and nose with her arm; sucking in air through her nose trying to clear her sinuses. But she soon stopped as a tidal wave of sadness came rushing over her. Someone else, who just in a short time, had become so important to her, was gone. A mentor and an ally. And while she knew the hurt she was feeling was only a fraction of what Ariana was feeling, it still hit her and brought her to her knees on the rooftop. Sobs began filling the air as Celeste’s death had seemed to be the cherry on top of all the drama that had happened in the past few days, and her heart felt like it was crumbling. No wonder Ulfric had told Layla to leave. But how could she even begin to go back to a trailer that held all the memories she had with Celeste. From the first day they met to the night she explained to Layla that her time would come to be brave and to help the pack. Followed by the two watching Legally Blonde and laughing until tears were in their eyes. But yet here she was again. Left in the lurch with no one there to explain to her that sometimes life just went this way and that she wasn’t alone. In that moment, with Ulf standing just behind her, she had felt so lonely. The relationship with Ulfric, though still relatively new, had felt strained. Layla had struggled to trust him and even though he was the one standing there telling her, because Ariana probably couldn’t and Celeste was...gone, she knew the connection him and the other young wolf had would never be something she could obtain, and the adult she had felt like she was connecting with the most was dead, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

Ulfric stood frozen, wanting to provide Layla comfort but not sure how to do so. They both knew the trust between them was a recent thing, and rather tenuous. An embrace seemed to him like it might come across as inauthentic. Still, he wanted to show her that a better understanding between them wasn’t impossible. His misgivings about her weren’t as set in stone as they had been before his realization about Celeste; that her actions had been driven by a genuine love for Ariana, not malicious intent or cowardice. If someone with a hunter’s blood and abilities was still capable of having a good heart, then he owed this hunter’s child who lacked the latter the benefit of the doubt. With that in mind, he placed his hand on her shoulder hesitantly and squeezed. “I marked her resting place,” the older wolf informed her softly. “I know it’s not the same, but you can visit her, talk to her there.”

Tears continued to fall down her face as sobs could be heard. She was glad they had come to the rooftop. Glad Frankie wasn’t around to hear her weakness at this very moment. With Celeste gone, she felt confused. She had just started to find her footing. Had a parental figure in her life that she was starting to trust with both her head and her heart, and just like that, she was gone. Her mind jumped back to Ariana. Layla was older. She did feel protective over the younger wolf, but she was, by no means, capable of caring for anyone else. Hell, she couldn’t even care for herself half the time. Was she supposed to help Ulfric now? Those had been just a few of the hundreds of questions that ran through her mind. It was Ulf’s hand on her shoulder that stopped the swirl of thoughts and inquiries in her brain. The soft words gave way to quiet sniffles as her sobbing had eased, “And what about Ariana? Is she safe? Can I still see her?” Her eyes focused ahead as the sun was just pushing itself over the horizon.

“Yes, she’s safe,” Ulfric informed her, grateful and impressed that Ariana’s well-being was so forward in her mind despite how deep she still was in her own grief. He withdrew his hand but settled beside, on as equal a level as he could achieve given his natural height advantage, and joined her in watching the sunrise. “She’s staying with family friends, Deirdre Dolan and Morgan Beck. I’m sure she’d like to see you.” Despite his initial reservations about Layla he hadn’t failed to notice the bond she’d developed with Ariana, and now more than ever encouraging that bond seemed like it would do them both some good. “She just wasn’t ready to sort through her sister's things. And… neither was I,” He explained, confessing the last part reluctantly, but openness was something he needed to work on with her, if things were to be better going forward. “That’s why I asked you to keep out of there, but it didn’t seem right to explain the rest on the phone.”

Layla wanted to see Ariana. She wanted to spend time with her, but most of all, she just wanted to give her a big hug. Of course, it didn’t mean she could keep herself from crying. In fact, she knew after Ulf had left, she was probably going to curl back up in her corner on the floor and sob, “I don’t think Deirdre wants me anywhere near her house. I don’t know if you heard about the bean incident, but I sorta wrecked her place, when she was having me chase after a dog - Simon’s dog.” She wiped her eyes with her arm. It was the last thing Ulf said though, that kind of stung. Keep out of there. It was as if she wasn’t welcome. Like he didn’t trust her. Looking towards him, but not directly at him, she spoke, “I wouldn’t have taken or touched anything, Ulfric. I know I’m just some stray that Ariana took in off the street, and I may not have known Celeste as long, but she meant something to me, too.” Getting up off the ground, she let out a soft quivering sigh, “I appreciate you telling me in person. And I won’t go back until I’m allowed to. Just don’t touch my bow. My name is engraved on it. I think I got most of my things out last night after you texted me.” She put a soft hand on his shoulder, before heading back downstairs to Graham and Frankie’s apartment. Slipping back inside, she found her spot back on the floor and laid back down, quietly crying to herself, until she couldn’t anymore.

“I doubt she’d hold some minor property damage against you now,” Ulfric countered, he didn’t know Deirdre very well but while she had come across as odd and a little dramatic, she clearly wasn’t uncaring. He doubted she’d be petty enough to stop the girls from visiting each other in this time of grief. “If you want to see Ari you should.” It wasn’t until Layla went on the defensive that he realized his mistake. “That’s not what I meant—” He protested, inwardly kicking himself for the poor phrasing. Keep out. He’d meant he wanted to keep her from harm, since his residence was now a treacherous place full of inescapable reminders of what they’d lost, not that she posed a threat to the sanctity of Celeste’s memory by being there. Still, considering he had outright told her he thought of her as a potential threat before, he couldn’t fault her logic. “It just didn’t seem right for you to remain, going about your business as if everything was fine, when it wasn’t,” he tried to clarify, by the young wolf was already descending the stairs. With her enhanced hearing, he had reason to hope she’d heard him, but not that she’d believe him given their history. With a sigh, Ulfric collapsed onto the rooftop and waited for Layla to reach the ground, allowing her to put some distance between them before he would leave himself. Above him, the stars had set, Celeste’s last night on this Earth had officially drawn to a close. Nothing remained but the bright morning sun to burn away any shadows that might have hidden the fact she was gone.

#chatzy #layla #hear you me #wickedswriting #tw death mention

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

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You Send Me: Chapter Ten

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe

A little bit of a time skip here, because otherwise this fic would have a ridiculous number of chapters if I went through literally every show on the 1978 Canadian/American tour roster lol.

Warning for some casually transphobic microaggressions from the reader’s mother in a bit of this. Nothing horrible, but it’s based off of how my family acts around me at times and so...it’s also not great either. If you had to put it on a scale of 1-10, 1 being eh not so bad I can ignore it to 10 being oh god jesus the fuck is wrong with these transphobic assholes, it’s about a three. Also some general verbal emotional abuse. Fun fact, some of the dialogue in this are near quotations of things my mother has said to me irl! I never thought I’d get any use out of that hurt, but here we are!

Also, some big conflict, and some difficult decisions to make for Y/N.

You were grateful, as the tour progressed, that you and Freddie had finally gotten to fuck when you did. Because after? There was simply no time.

It wasn’t just that stupid little things kept making you late (the van breaking down, a tire deciding it no longer felt like remaining on the van whilst on the highway no less, hotels not finding your reservations, venues with a whole variety of their own issues that made shows...interesting to complete) but that it was the heaviest fever-pitch of the tour cycle. It was about the middle, and things were settling, you in your job and the crew and band all together into a well-oiled concert-giving machine.

As a result, you were exhausted a good ninety percent of the time, and so was Freddie (along with everyone else.) Conversations at night had dwindled to ‘I love yous’ and ‘fuck me running I could sleep for a year’ before you both passed out, only to get up early and run again.

“Is it bad that I’m glad it’s nearly over?” you asked in the hotel room in Oakland, cuddled against Freddie as you both sat against the headboard of the bed.

“No,” Freddie sighed. “It’s great fun, but tiring fun. And eventually, you do get sick of it.”

“What show did you realize you were absolutely done with touring, this time around?”

“....Miami?” he said, and laughed. “No, not quite that early, not really.”

“Early tour jitters, maybe?”

“That’s more like it,” he replied. “Now, it’s definitely being done with it. For a while, at least. It’ll be nice to go home. To take you home.”

Your heart soared at that. It was common knowledge amongst the rest of the crew now as well, and you’d been lovingly teased over it ever since, that any time they caught you smiling, you must surely have been thinking about the end of the tour and heading to London with Freddie. To be fair to them, you often were thinking about it. It was hard not to, the closer it got.

The phone at the beside rang, and you both exchanged a look.

“Maybe a wrong number?” you mused as you picked it up.

“Where are you?” your mother’s voice was sharp, panicked. “And when can you get here?”

“Where, exactly?” you asked, slipping out of Freddie’s arms to sit on the side of the bed, stretching the cord of the phone less.

“Home, where else?” your mother asked exasperatedly. “Your grandparents are both sick, and I can’t do this by myself. I need your help. You said I could always count on you, my good little gi-”

Your mother stopped herself, then started again. “Child. Good little child, of mine. Anyway, when should I expect you here?”

You scoffed. “You can’t expect me at all. We only just finished the Oakland show, and then we have three in Los Angeles and one make-up show in Washington, D.C. after those. I can’t come home even after that because-”

You cut yourself off and turned to look at Freddie, who wore a concerned look on his face. It was sweet, and kind, and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Look, I’ve got to go. I can call you back later, and try and arrange to come out there in maybe a few weeks after the tour is over.”

“That’ll be fine, I suppose,” your mother sniffed. “If they’re still alive by then. But no worries, I’m used to taking care of everything for you all by my lonesome. Nothing new there.”

She hung up her end of the phone with a clatter, and that broke you.

“What is it?” Freddie asked gently, pulling you back onto the bed and into his arms. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

“My grandparents are ill, apparently,” you choked out in between sobs. “And my mother expects me to drop everything and go running back home, because supposedly no one else in the family will help her care for them.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, and kissed your forehead. “Were they sick when you left?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. But they’re getting on in years, I suppose it could just happen out of the blue. But why she waits to call me now about it, I don’t understand. And I don’t even know how she found out where I am, I didn’t give her the exact tour dates...”

A knock at the door, and Roger entered unannounced.

“Ah. Your mum got a hold of you then?”

Freddie nodded for you. “How do you know about it?”

“Because. Crystal is Y/N’s contact here, and that was the only contact number we let Y/N give out to family for while he’s here with us on tour,” Roger said. “He made sure Y/N’s mum had a list of the concert dates, and apparently she knew we were in the city but not which hotel, and god, some of the hotels around here are angry beyond belief that she’s been blowing up their lines so much-”

You sobbed even harder, unintentionally interrupting him, and Roger winced.

“I’m sorry. We...maybe shouldn’t have given her the full tour info. We never imagined she’d do that with it, that’s for sure. When she finally got in touch with Crystal here, she said it was an emergency, but she wouldn’t say what about? Is everything okay?”

“Family is sick,” Freddie said shortly. “And Y/N’s mother expects him home straight away.”

Roger nodded. “Well, if you must...”

“I’m not going!” you shouted, half of it coming out as an indignant laugh. “I don’t want them to die, but I know her, and I don’t believe it’s as bad as she says. She just wants me home so I can do whatever she tells me, so I can be another paycheck to help her pay bills after I find another shitty job there.”

You curled into yourself, your face buried in Freddie’s chest. “I can’t go back. I can never go back. But I have to, or I’ll never forgive myself, But I can’t go now!”

“Okay,” Freddie soothed, and you heard Roger leave the room by the quiet click of the door as it shut. “We’ll figure this out, remember? Maybe you can’t leave now, but...I mean, it’s really not ideal for you to go back at all, with the way you’ve said they act around you. But if it was me, I don’t think I could stay away, even if it turned out they weren’t really ill.”

He sighed. “There’s no easy answer to this, I don’t think. And not necessarily a right one either. But you have some time, some days at least, to make a choice on it. And I’ll do my best to support whatever you decide, I promise.”

You raised your head, and you could see in his eyes that he meant it, even if there was an edge there.

The edge, like a cliff for the two of you to tumble off of, where you went home and couldn’t leave again. Where you’d never see each other again. Where you’d languish in a city you hated, around people who loved you out of familial obligation but not out of pure emotion and care. And where you’d both miss each other desperately, but would never be able to reconcile that pain.

The shows after that were a blur. Not an unhappy one exactly, but not the ecstatic rush they had been prior. As you saw it, it was two separate eras: Pre-Phone Call and Post-Phone Call. Even with the troubles the tour had seen, you liked Pre-Phone Call much better.

“If you need to stop there,” Brian said as you all entered the airport, since there was no way to drive all the way back to D.C. in decent time. “You can. I mean, you could spend a few hours there, then be to Washington right in time for the show, I’m sure.”

You shook your head. “She’s waited this long, she can wait until this show is over, and that’s if I go at all.”

Brian nodded, and patted your back before following the rest of the crew as you searched out the area you were meant to be in.

The waiting at the airport didn’t lend itself well to your anxiety over the whole mess, and finally, you hit a breaking point.

“Bathroom,” you muttered to Freddie as you stood up from the couch the two of you were lounged on. John and Roger immediately pulled your carry-on bags towards them, and you were grateful for it. That little gesture, a sign of the oddball band and crew family you’d come to love so dearly.

And now, it might go away forever.

You pressed him up against the wall before you could even get near a stall; there was the risk of being caught, but you didn’t much give a fuck about it.

“Y/N,” Freddie murmured, kissing back only for a moment before grabbing you by the waist. “Hold on.”

“I’ll stop, and you can wait for me out there,” you said. “But then I’m getting off in here on my own. I can’t just sit there, and keep thinking about this, running it over and over and over in my head-”

He pulled you close, and you let yourself melt against him. “I can’t stand this.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t think I know anyone who could. But this isn’t the answer, not right now at least. Maybe later, as stress relief, once you’re home, and it’s all over.”

“Home with you?”

“Where else?” Freddie chuckled softly. “We’ll make a day of it, making you feel good and loved and not thinking another thing about anything or anyone else. As soon as the jet lag has worn off of you, that’s when we’ll plan it for.”

“What if they don’t want me to go?” you asked, keeping your head pressed against his chest.

“Last time I checked, you’re a grown man, who can come and go as he pleases, wherever he might like,” Freddie replied. “Your family might not see that, or might not want to, but that’s the simple truth of the matter. They can want you to stay all they like, but you can do whatever you want. And what do you want right now?”

“To see my grandparents, make sure they’re going to be okay, then come home to you.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do,” Freddie said, and the finality of it soothed the gaping crater of fear and anxiety and frustration that had made its home in your chest.

It was easier to sit then, waiting for the plane, then waiting for the flight to be over (and watching Freddie fall asleep during it, head back, mouth open, out like a light, utterly adorable.) It almost felt normal again, as you went through the motions you had for the entire tour run.

Airport to hotel, drop everything, change, and then the run to the final venue.

----

This time it was mercifully free of water, rats, and anything else that might have caused a problem, and the owner seemed much happier and calmer for it.

That made the show feel cleaner too, watching from backstage as it all went off without a hitch. No broken strings, no outfit issues, no broken drum set, nothing wrong at all.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

You turned, and saw the venue owner holding a phone receiver, the cord stretched nearly to breaking.

“An emergency call, per the lady on the phone, she said to get you right away-”

You nodded your thanks, took the phone, and followed the cord back to its home, the venue owner trailing behind you.

“What?”

“That’s a lovely way to talk to your mother, when I’m calling to check in and wish you a good concert.”

“We’re in the middle of it now,” you said through gritted teeth. “I need to go do my job. How did you even get this number?!”

“I’m sure they can do without you for a bit,” your mother said carelessly, ignoring your question as if you hadn’t asked it at all. “Now, about your coming here, I have some things I’ll need you to do right away when you get in-”

“Look,” you interrupted forcefully. “I’m only coming to make sure Grandma and Grandpa will be okay. Then I’m leaving. I have another flight to catch, three days after I get to where you are. And I’m not changing it, or missing it, no matter what.”

She went silent for a moment, and you moved to hang up the phone.

“You know, it’s a real shame. We didn’t raise you to be so mean. And after all we’ve done for you.”

“This is not the time for this discussion,” you spat, looking out to the hall only to see Crystal there, giving you a universal ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’ gesture. “I need to go.”

“No time for your mother, or your grandparents,” your mother tutted. “What must they think of you there, when they hear you on the phone like this?”

“They don’t hear me, because they’re wondering where the fuck I am, because they need me to be with them, doing my job,” you replied. “I’ll be on a flight to you after the concert; we can talk more when I get to you.”

“Why won’t you say ‘home’?” your mother asked. “Just say it: ‘when I get home.’“

You bit your tongue, and held your breath so you wouldn’t screech in frustration and aggravation.

“Say it. For me.”

You couldn’t. ‘Home’ there had only barely ever been a home, only in the slightest sense. ‘Home’ now, was wherever Freddie was, and that was how you liked it, and you couldn’t and wouldn’t say anything to contradict it.

“Ugh,” your mother scoffed. “Fine then, be that way. Maybe you ought not come anyway; it would probably upset your grandparents and hurt them more, if this is how you’re going to be. We raised you to be considerate of others, but apparently you’ve willfully forgotten that lesson. Just forget all about it.”

She hung up, and you handed the phone to the venue owner, who took it with a solemn look.

It was like moving in slow motion after that, going through the motions to finish out the concert, but only being able to concentrate on trying not to break down and cry.

You couldn’t manage to go in the green room after. You wanted Freddie’s comfort, but not at the loss of his own post-concert joy.

Instead, you bummed a cigarette off of another tech, and went outside to smoke in the cold winter air, which was where he found you.

“You smoke? Since when?”

You shook your head. “Not since high school. This is only for tonight. Just getting me through.”

“Through what?” Freddie asked, and shivered. He was only in his concert get-up and the yellow robe he wore after each show. It was thick, but not much against the December wind.

“Through my mother telling me not to bother. Saying terrible things that I know aren’t true, but that I can’t convince myself of their falseness all the same,” you replied as you shifted off your jacket, and wrapped it around his shoulders.

“Put this back on, you’ll freeze otherwise,” Freddie instructed, but you left it on him.

“I’m not feeling much of anything right now. Hot, or cold, or anything at all.”

You finished the cigarette, and stamped it out on the snowy ground. “I should go help clean up.”

“No, Crystal said they’ve got it,” Freddie said, stepping in front of you before you could move. “He figured something had happened when you took a call mid-show.”

“I didn’t want to,” you said. “It was terribly unprofessional of me, and it won’t happen again.”

He sighed, and moved again to be beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You don’t need to apologize like that. Or at all. It’s fine, everything was okay. Turned out great, in fact. A good show to end the tour on.”

You knew the tears on your face were warm in contrast to the coldness of your skin, but it barely registered as they fell to the snow. “I wish it hadn’t ended. I mean, I did want it to so we could go home together, but now I have to go...there first and I kept somehow hoping it would all go slower. But it didn’t, and now there’s nothing I can do about it, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with being around them again.”

He took your hand, and you let him lead you back inside, ignoring the concerned stares of everyone you passed. You knew they had questions, but they were all kind enough not to ask them right then.

You watched as he changed, sniffling in the one decent chair in the green room that he had deposited you in. You swore he was taking his time, for your sake, and it made you want to run over and kiss him, but you couldn’t seem to move.

He led you out of the venue again, onto the van, then into the hotel. Not a word passed between you and him to anyone else, even as part of you wanted to explain it all to them, to apologize for your suddenly going cold and quiet and broken.

“We’ll sleep, and then you can make a final choice tomorrow,” Freddie said as he helped you out of your concert clothes and into the one change of night clothes you had in your bag. You’d barely worn them while with Freddie, it was more comfortable to be just in your underwear, warm skin to warm skin under the covers.

The cold lingered in your bones now though, and you shivered even after you were dressed, even as he wrapped you in his arms under the covers.

You weren’t sure you would ever be ready for tomorrow, and you didn’t want it to come. To stay in the bed of the hotel room, intertwined with Freddie, safe and warm and loved, was the only moment you wanted to exist in.

#text post #LeeH writes #Queen band fic #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury x male reader

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justine-the-guillotine · 4 years

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5 Otome/Romance Game Men I Adore

Thank you so much @pseudofaux for tagging me! Also, thank you for saying that your own list was not in order or an exhaustive list because I often feel pressured to make a perfect list in these types of situations lol but if pseu was chill I can also be chill (EDIT: no there’s actually a lot of screaming below and absolutely no chill, I’m sorry, I lied.)

I always talk too much and break too many rules when I do these things but that's just how I am lmfao so I'm gonna start off by saying IkeSen's Nobunaga Oda is my absolute favorite otome game man of all time... but I'm not going to officially include him on this list because I talk about him too much as it is already and I feel like enough people love him anyway. However, if anyone is interested in hearing me talk about Nobunaga ad nauseam, I will gladly entertain you.

On to my list ~

1. Caramia, OZMAFIA!! - Ozmafia!! is my favorite otome game (MC be damned) and I love this man sooooooo much. His wedding CG has actually been the background on my phone for ages now. You know the "that's where the trouble began, that damned smile" meme? THAT'S FUCKING FOR HIM THAT'S HIM!!!!!!!!! That smile ruined my entire life in the best possible way and I have not known peace since. I guess I have a bit of A Thing for loveable, charismatic leaders. I just love a man who is full of power but big of heart ... and a little bit of a dumbass. Caramia is just like the total package... He protecc, but he also attacc, and he also a snacc. Oh, and he can cook!!!

2. Fenrir Godspeed, Ikemen Revolution - Fenrir is really, really special to me and I put him in his own category entirely. In reality, Fenrir and Ray are actually tied as my IkeRev biases (and honestly I prefer them together; Alice is optional). Fenrir is actually so close to my heart that I refuse to even look at almost all fanfiction with him in it, with few exceptions. The fear that someone could "ruin" him by writing him in a way that even slightly disagrees with the way I picture him in my head (and I have seen it) is really too much for me to handle. Is this unhealthy of me? Probably, but I tend to avoid the situation all together so it doesn't matter. Not only do I self-insert in my games but I'm also not one of those people who separate fiction from real-life really well, so all of my biases are people I'd actually fall for IRL. And Fenrir is really special to me because he is actually the most perfect, ideal boyfriend in my mind but he is someone I absolutely do not deserve IRL and would probably run from for fear of ruining things. :'] So while any otome game man is a fantasy, he's like... top tier fantasy for me. He's just so perfectly easy-going, such a Prince Charming, Knight in Shining Armor, easy to read, so ready to love you, SO MUCH FUN... he's a Good Boi without being naive and innocent... he's like a wild-yet-safe adventure ugh he's like p e r f e c t I cry

3. Raymond, Blood in Roses - I don't necessarily think Blood in Roses is a great game; it definitely has its hits and its misses BUT it did grant me this one amazing man and therefore I will never uninstall it. I mentioned that I like lovable leaders but I also thoroughly enjoy being able to break down a brick wall of a man. Raymond starts off by being pretty cold to MC, caring really only for his duty (I love a loyal man), but takes MC under his wing anyway... and slowly realizes he has feelings for her and then of course becomes someone who is willing to die for her. This is peak romance, don't @ me.

4. Zen, Mystic Messenger - Zen is actually not my favorite to romance (that honor belongs to Jumin) but he is my #2. More importantly than the romance though, he is such a fucking good guy in every single route... ignoring all of Chertiz's little homophobic undertones of course (man do I wish Chertiz would rewrite Mystic Messenger so it's not so conservative, pleaseeee). He is willing to stand up for and protect MC in every route, not just his own. In all routes, he offers himself to MC as a shoulder to lean on, someone to cry to. He is always helpful to everyone!! Even though he and Jumin don't see eye to eye on most things, Zen is still ultimately supportive of him and wants what's best for him. ZEN IS A TRUE BRO. He's also super chill like he's all about his acting and performing... but he just also wants to drink beer, eat street food, and smoke cigarettes all day. I know people get turned off by his narcissism but fucking look at him okay he has every (!!!) right to be narcissistic. Plus, he doesn't let his ego get in the way of love and friendship and that's very important !!! In this essay, I will -

5. Leonardo DaVinci, Ikemen Vampire - I just want to type his name and send like 150000 weary emojis after it and be done with it. Honestly, it is at the point where I think he is on Nobunaga level for me. I have fallen very, very hard for him. I have two IkeVamp accounts and between the two of them I think I have done his full route about six or seven times. Every time I get to the scene where Comte suggests that Leonardo breaks it off with MC, I want to scream at the top of my lungs "BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM" like Ariel does in The Little Mermaid (Leonardo has his own moment where he internally shouts "I LOVE HER!!!!" so we're even tbh). First of all, HE IS SO FUCKING KNOWLEDGEABLE HE KNOWS SO MUCH AND HE KEEPS LEARNING THAT SHIT IS HOT. Also, I have seen people disagree with me on this but I personally don't think he's patronizing to MC. His MC, unfortunately, is written in that way where "ugh he's so mature and I is babey" so, of course, there are moments where he plays off of that but he literally has SO MUCH KNOWLEDGE and he never is like "wow I can't believe you don't know that you idiot" to MC even though the opportunity to do that is plentiful. He will tease her, sure, but that's totally different than being mean about it. The best thing about him being so intelligent is the fact he's also a fucking dumbass (I love me a dumbass, as you all know). He loves MC so, so much even though he doesn't show that in the smartest of ways all the time... but... he fucking walked into a dress shop and designed a whole ass custom dress for her?? He even picked out the fabric??? And then he pretended like it was Comte who chose it??? HELLOOOOOOOOOOO I LOVE HIM I'M ACTUALLY SCREAMING RIGHT NOW THAT'S WHY I HAVE TO TYPE IN CAPS I LOVE HIS MIND I LOVE HIM

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I'm gonna sneak in an extra number because I absolutely must.

6. Trash, Aloners - If you have never played Aloners, you really should because it is seriously an amazing visual novel (thank you @dear-mrs-otome for casually mentioning this game like one time in a discord server otherwise I’m not sure that I would have found out about it). You can get it for free (or pay $5 for the redeux version), so there’s really no excuse unless you don’t have a computer. The love between MC and Trash is not the main plot of the story necessarily, but Trash is such a good man and he deserves the lovin'. Trash is like the perfect combination of sweet and snarky, respectful yet teasing, competent but dumb, has a good heart but doesn't always make the best decisions... in conclusion, what choice did I have but to fall helplessly in love???

This has been fun, I absolutely love screaming about 2D bois... I hope y’all don’t mind tags (also I haven’t really been around a lot so if you’ve been tagged already I’m sorry ;w;) @luciens-one-and-only-sea-otter @lovingikesen @toonamifaithful @emeraldtawny @littlelady-blackwell @alloveroliver

#tag tag #just otome things #uh it's a list of 2d men I love #just 2d men things #favorite tag #Steeni speak 🔊

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juvinadelgreko · 4 years

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🪐share your natal chart tag game🪐

I was tagged by @beautifulcinephile and @strawberrylight. Thanks guys!

Instructions: go to cafeastrology.com and generate your natal chart. Copy the descriptions for your sun, moon, and rising signs. Bold the portions you feel apply to you.

Sun is in Libra ♎️

Libra natives are generally thought to be sociable, somewhat intellectual souls. They have an almost innocent way about them that makes them very approachable. Generally quite eager to cooperate, Librans spend a lot of their time trying not to rock the boat.

In theory, Libras are peace-loving. In practice, they can quietly stir up all sorts of trouble with their ways. Because Libra enjoys balance in their lives, they seek the middle ground. In the process, they may end up trying to be everything to everyone. This is where their reputation for untruthfulness comes from. Generally, their untruths spring from a true desire for peace and fairness--although they may not be comfortable with direct and malicious trickery, they feel totally justified when they lie in order to avoid making waves. Peace at any price! In this sense, they seem harmless. But, what can result is quite a ruckus! People involved with Libras may crib about their lack of directness and their apparent inability to take a stand. Librans are experts at avoiding being the one to blame. When confronted, they'll (calmly and reasonably) say, "What, me? No, I just want peace." "On the fence", "middle ground", "middle road" -- these are all expressions that we can safely associate with Libra. Some more powerful signs may consider Libra a little on the weak side. This is all a matter of opinion, however! Without Libra, life simply wouldn't be as fair.

Librans are known for comparing and thinking in relative terms, instead of in absolutes. This weekend is not just a good weekend, it's better than last weekend. As a Libra, you are always looking for the "best" way or the "right" way to live. Harmony is the ultimate goal, but your idealism and high expectations can amount to plenty of discontent. Since life presents all of us with an extraordinary amount of choices, if you don't learn to live in the moment at least some of the time, you'll be in a constant state of unrest.

You're extremely sensitive to imbalances around you. You aim to meet others halfway, and you definitely keep count in a relationship! As an Air sign, you live in your head more than most people, and as a Cardinal sign, you aim to take action. It's true that you can be a procrastinator, but ultimately, you are moved to get things done, but you seek to do so with tact, grace, and consideration for others.

Society needs rules, and these rules attempt to bring justice, equality, and fairness. On an individual level, Libra represents these laws of civilization. As a Libra, you are very civilized and rather refined. You are diplomatic and fair. You can be indecisive and can suffer from "paralysis by analysis," but you also see many different levels of any situation and can always see others' points of view.

Libra is associated with copper, pastel colors, opals, emeralds, pink quartz, both silver and gold jewelry, the number 6, and Fridays.

Moon is in Pisces ♓️

Those with the Moon in Pisces are known to be dreamy and not always in touch with reality. However, though you may not always show real-world savvy in day-to-day, practical affairs, you make up for this with remarkable intuition. You can put yourself in anybody's shoes with extreme ease. On the plus side, this endows you with remarkable compassion and love. The downside with this apparent ability to break down boundaries is that you can easily lose yourself in the suffering of others.

With your Moon sign Pisces, your sense of humor is delightfully silly and a bit odd. You are a perceptive soul who seems to be in touch with all the nuances and subtleties of human nature. Often this comes through in a strong sense of humor that is more of the receptive kind than the type of sense of humor that would make people the "life of the party." It's generally pretty easy to get them laughing. Crying, too!

Moon in Pisces people may get tagged as "spaced out," but there's a lot more to them than meets the eye. They feel things out and rely quite strongly on their intuition. It just doesn't feel right for them to do otherwise. Their dreaminess can mean plenty of moments of absent-mindedness. These times of oblivion can land them in all sorts of predicaments with others who can too easily misunderstand these complex souls. Without plenty of space and time to daydream, Pisces Moons easily get overloaded in life. Give them room to be alone with themselves, and they're generally able to take on the world--even if their style when they do so is not always conventional or understandable.

Generally considered soft-hearted and sweet, you care about others and are easily touched by human suffering. This tendency can gain you the reputation as a sucker for a sob story. Although this may sometimes be true, you learn in your lifetime how to discern between sincerity and manipulation. Still, you definitely do have plenty of soft corners.

This is a powerfully creative and artistic Moon. It's also one of the most understanding and nuanced combinations.

There's a delightful accepting side to Moon in Pisces that is sometimes mistaken for weakness. Pisces is the twelfth and last sign of the zodiac, and thus carries with it a little of each sign of the zodiac. As a result, Pisces sees themselves reflected in the behavior of others, giving them seemingly boundless compassion. Since the Moon represents our instinctive nature, Moon in Pisces seems to know how things feel without actual experience. They may have never experienced something but still seem to understand it -- even, or especially, the subtleties of it. The ones that aren't too shy make awesome actors. The ability to empathize even in the absence of experience gives them an open mind and heart. Most long to express this through writing, music (both listening and making), poetry, and art --in fact, the more satisfied people with this position do just that. Nevertheless, this is a searching Moon sign that is often divinely discontent!

Though some are doormats, most Pisces Moon people instinctively know when they're due for a much-needed recharge. It's at these times that they retreat from the world (and its harsh realities) if only to gather strength to face everything and everyone again. Solitude is important to them, but they also need people, so their retreats will usually be short-lived. Pisces Moon individuals believe; and, let's face it, the world needs Piscean leaps of faith.

You are a bit of an escapist or avoider. You don't always feel equipped to face things head-on. Although your intentions are usually good, a potential weakness is your ability to "get out of" things. When you are emotionally present, though, you are a wonderfully entertaining, understanding, and kind-hearted person to be around.

Virgo Ascendant ♍️

People with Virgo rising are often a little understated in their personal mannerisms and appearance, although a lot depends on the position of Mercury (the ruling planet of Virgo) in the chart. There is an intelligent and reserved aura about Virgo rising individuals that is unmistakable, however.

You may come across as somewhat shy or aloof, as you need time to analyze everything around you before you warm up to both situations and people. This quality can be received exactly as that, or it can be received as a rather stand-offish, cool, and even critical manner (depending on the audience).

One of the strongest personality traits of this position is body-awareness. You can be particularly sensitive to any discomfort or other signals your body gives you. For this reason, you can be particularly concerned with physical health and might be drawn to mind-body awareness exercises such as yoga. You might also be quite particular with food! Although some people with Virgo rising have good appetites, there can be an unmistakable pickiness about what they put in--and on--their bodies.

You are likely to worry a lot, especially when confronted with new situations. It's difficult not to since you notice the tiniest details that others overlook. Your powers of observation are through the roof, but sometimes this trait adds too much to the anxiety pile.

With Virgo rising, it's definite that you have Pisces on the Descendant. This can point to a tendency to attract (or be attracted to) people who need help, which can lead to uncomfortable or confusing situations -- sometimes you feel taken advantage of. Despite the Virgo rising tendency to appear rather collected and professional, relationships can sometimes get messy simply because you don’t always see your partners and partnerships clearly. You want to see the best in a partner.

You absolutely have your own way of doing things! Some may even call your methods unusual or peculiar, but they get the job done. It's very true that Virgo is a flexible sign -- after all, it's from the Mutable mode family -- and you often make accommodations for others. However, your way is the right way, and as much as you allow others to do their own thing, you demand the right to do the same. You've put a lot of time and energy into your methods, after all.

You work hard at whatever you do. Always going the extra mile, you have a difficult time being idle. As hard as you work, however, you may not always be focused on the big prize. For one, worry and particularness can slow you down -- you can be quite the perfectionist. For another, you're not always comfortable in the spotlight. However, this trait can be modified by the position and condition of Mercury in your chart, by sign, house, and aspect. For example, if Mercury is in Aquarius, you may not mind standing out from the crowd!

You work best at projects that you can oversee and manage slowly. Starting small and expanding slowly but surely is definitely the better choice for you, as situations that seem beyond your control can overwhelm you too quickly. Your confidence builds as you move along at your own pace. Watch that you don't miss out on opportunities because of the high standards you have for yourself. You may not think you can handle something, but if you give it a try, you may very well realize that you worried about it for nothing.

You can be highly skilled at what you do. It's no surprise that there are many artisans among you with your meticulous attention to detail and your desire to perfect and hone your craft. You might also be drawn to projects and lines of work that involve a lot of research, analysis, classification, and detail work.

You can come across as a little cool or critical, often without even realizing it. In truth, you are kind and concerned. You do live in your head so much that you can end up not trusting your intuition -- something to watch for! You are not obviously demonstrative. You are an earthy and sensual being, but it doesn't show up in first impressions.

Orderliness is vital to you. Chaotic situations stress you out more than they do others. You quickly become aware of all the variables involved in a new situation, and it's important to you that you feel you can manage them. With Mercury your sign's ruler, you can be given to fretting, tension, and nervousness. You certainly aim to pay attention to the smallest details. You can be a great lover of lists, catalogs, and schedules. Feeling organized finds you at your happiest!

You possess a quiet charm, and once you have the chance to warm up to new people and situations, you have much to offer. In other words, it's worth the extra effort that people may need to put in to get to know you! You'll help people out of a jam, go out on a limb for others, and surprise them with a natural modesty hiding behind a somewhat critical and standoffish manner.

Tagging: @satans-helper @hansonobsessed @dufflesmckagan @dramaticjupiter

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meimi-haneoka · 4 years

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Clear Card chapter 39 - review

AT LONG LAST!

Real life really takes the will to do lengthy things away from me, even if it’s for fun.

But I love Cardcaptor Sakura so much, so I take this almost as a “duty” to pay respect to this wonderful series. I love when things are done properly and not left “hanging”, so here we go, even if a bit delayed compared to usual: (long)THOUGHTS ON CHAPTER 39 under the cut!!

I’d like to start with a small consideration before going with plot-centric rants: I have noticed the post with this chapter obtained a lot less notes than usual, but it’s a trend that has been going on for a while. I’m not really sure what could be the cause, it can range from Tumblr shadowbanning posts from the tag search if they include a link (so the posts are not visible that much anymore, despite my efforts to make a second text post), to people preferring other sources to get their chapters (and that’s fine), to the fandom moving altogether to other sites and communities, or....to the fandom’s interest slowly fading away. Since it seems we’re almost going towards the climax, I’m not sure how to react to the latter option. I think this is supposed to be the moment in which the fandom’s interest is the more active, but I could be wrong. Anyway, if that’s the case, then I guess it’s really time for CLAMP to wrap it up.

Without further ado, let’s analyze this chapter!

The color page was L O V E L Y. Oh my gosh Sakura-chan, look how grown up you appear here. More beautiful than ever. She’s even re-using a sweater from another color illustration, lol. It’s perfectly fitting with the autumn season and I loved it!

Let’s bother her a little more

Starting off from where we left in ch. 38, Sakura is blown away and Syaoran tries to have The Shadow look for her once again, but....”fooled once, not fooled twice” thinks Kaito, isn’t it? Kaito wants Sakura to do stuff on her own, so he literally “throws” her into a dark tree hole, where her shadow can’t be traced, because well....there’s none. He isn’t looking particularly amused while he does this, well, what I mean is that it’s not like he’s having sadistic fun, causing her troubles. His face is kinda apologetic when he's all “here comes the knight but thanks, no thanks”, as if he understands that Syaoran wants to save her, but he cannot really do otherwise. Sakura needs to do this alone, in order to produce a fitting card. Would you care to tell us readers what this damned card is, Kaito?

The first conversation

Kaito is in the mood for some memories. Memories of the first time he spoke with Akiho. I found it interesting that he used the verb “having a conversation with” rather than “meeting”, and the reason is also pretty easy to guess: for him, it wasn’t the first time. He saw her (although from afar) when he analyzed her through that ball, to determine whether she had magical powers or not. And their first conversation didn’t start in the best of ways: Akiho’s first reaction is to run away. But what can you expect from a little girl who was used to be considered a bother and only basing on her magical capabilities, and not as a human being. So when Kaito asks her if he bothered her, her confusion is plain visible on her face: Is he talking to me? Me, who is usually the bothering one here?

And so she’s surprised big time when he actually shows to be interested to know which book she was reading. NO ONE, I repeat, NO ONE ever did that for her. Remember what environment she grew up in. He is the first and only one wanting to even have a conversation with her (her family only made “questions”). By the way, thanks to Impatient Scans, we actually aknowledge Akiho here might be reading “Momo”, by German writer Michael Ende. That opens a whole new box of questions, starting from “IS THIS where Momo takes her name from? Who gave it to her? What is her real name? Could the story actually be giving plot hints?”

All in all, let me just say I loved this flashback. I always love when there’s a Kaito or Akiho flashback, because I’m so hungry for their background story. I know the story has to sacrifice a bit of the other characters in order to show more of them, because 30 pages are just 30 pages, after all. But it’s ok, that’s also the reason why I’m glad I warmed up to both of these 2, because every month I have more things to look forward to, and I generally am never disappointed with a chapter’s content.

There’s no turning back

As if on cue, Momo starts an inner monologue on Kaito and Akiho, and how much he changed for her.

He really didn’t care about anything, before. He couldn’t be bothered to do anything. He was a very apathetic boy, some fans have theorized he could be on the brink of depression himself without even realizing it (again, consider what a shitty environment he grew up in, a den of delinquents).

And yet.

Among all those criminals, he raised his hand. His voice loud and clear, “I’ll go”. He, the boy who found everything a bother, decided something for himself for the first time ever, and to assist someone else, no less. Momo wonders, to herself, what changed inside of you? Cause something must have changed.

This was another part I really really loved. All the memories of their travels together. You can see the different countries they’ve been to, and their body language, that implies there was still some kind of “distance” between them. Akiho seems still kinda “wary” of Kaito in these shots (and with a reason, who would trust anyone if they were raised up like she did?). But we can see them being more relaxed and at ease the more they spend time together, and it’s on this time spent together that Momo puts the focus on. It’s where Kaito should ideally start to find the answer to the big, complex question.

What made you do this?

Momo muses over how Kaito learned to do all sorts of things in order to please Akiho and to make her live in a healthy environment (remember Akiho saying that Kaito makes by hand all her meals?), finally not neglected but at the center of someone’s attentions. She makes a random example on the tea. Why someone who didn’t give sh*t about how tea tasted, went all the way down to learn how to make it in a delicious way? I love how CLAMP cleverly used the word 術 with the furigana “sube”, which means “how to do something”, but with the same kanji and the reading “jutsu” it also means “spell”. This probably to imply that some magic might have been included in this learning process, err. XD

I also loved how Momo thinks that Kaito needs to look at the truth straight in the eyes, without turning away. Could he be scared to admit the truth? Loving someone (and hear me again, love of any kind, not romantic love exclusively) comes with a little fear. For someone who never experienced it, all the more. It’s a totalizing feeling that might destabilize you. If he doesn’t wake up to this, it’s gonna be too late. That’s literally what Momo says.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE SHOCKER OF THIS MONTH! Momo and Akiho’s mom knew eachother, and Momo even received her ring and the task to look over her daughter, and Sakura as well. “My Alice, and that girl’s Alice”. I mean, I knew Akiho’s mom was going to be important, but dammit she really looks like she’s been the one moving some plot threads since long time!!! I love this.

The nightmare

And here comes the part where I start screaming “WHAT THE F*CK IS HAPPENING HERE”. Sakura finds herself in a strange land with big flowers (she’s still tiny, let’s remember that), flowers that can actually speak. At her surprised face, the flowers reply “You wished for this, didn’t you?”.

EH?

And then we get to this creepy scene of Akiho appearing out of nowhere, with her experiment outfit, calling Sakura in a dead tone. I was seriously freaking out at the panel composition. Made entirely to evoke creepiness. Apparently, we’re in Alice’s story. Yes. BUT WHICH ALICE?

The strange reality turns into a nightmare. Literally.

Everything turns dark, Sakura is having another one of her dreams. The “shaaan” and the clocks are a sign of it. MCF appears behind Akiho, who this time is in the same position she was when she was turned into a magical artifact by her clan. Sakura’s face twists in horror even before MCF opens his robe, because she knows who’s under it. The last time she saw MCF in a dream was also the last time she saw who was under it. Her heart and mind scarred irreparably forever. And there he is. Syaoran, dead in his eyes. Sakura’s shrieks “NO!!” in horror, she completely refuses to believe this is a real thing. Now, I don’t really know what’s happening here, because after this, everything breaks and she captures GUESS WHAT, the “Break” card. So it’s hard to determine if it was a real dream or only an illusion. Maybe Kaito made her go into her subconscious to find bits and pieces of what she experienced before, in order to shake her enough to produce the right card. Because, if all of this is coming from her, then it means a part of her brain does remember despite the time rewindings of Kaito. And it’s very important. She saw Akiho’s past when she was trapped inside Akiho’s book, but all of that was erased when Kaito rewound time. Well, not from her heart, however, because she hugged Akiho tightly while crying. So now what do we have here? A part of what she’s not supposed to remember. I think this vision is a twisted mix of horrifying things she saw previously, and indeed her natural reaction is to destroy in pieces what she’s seeing. Quite literally, since the two kanji for “Break” actually mean “Destruction”. Is this the card Kaito was looking for? I’m not sure. Because he said that “Rewind” went quite close to it, and I can’t make out any relation between “Break” and “Rewind”. I still have the impression the card he might want her to make has got more to do with “restoring” things to how they were before. So, if it’s instead Kaito the one who made her see those things, he might have wanted her to wish to bring everything as it was before. HE needed a strong reaction from her. But she made “Break” instead. Will it be ok for him so we can move on to the climax?

I have to admit I kinda loved the more creepy and nightmare-ish atmosphere of the last 10 pages. Sakura evidently has got something big going on, and it’s time she talks to Syaoran about this. It’s time she tells him fair and square what’s she’s seeing more and more often. It’s about him too, at this point. She can’t keep this a secret anymore, not when it’s eating her sanity and peace of mind away.

Next chapter is going to be published in the February issue, in stores on the last days of December if everything goes as usual (for New Year’s they always anticipate the release of that issue). So we have another unexpected break as I already said, and I kinda figured it when I saw CLAMP going on a trip 20 days ago. It’s ok, we can do this! If we’re approaching the climax, it make sense that they take vacation now, so afterwards they can work fully straight into the finale.

Thanks for reading this long rant, and I wait for your comments!

#Card Captor Sakura #cardcaptor sakura #CLAMP #ccs spoilers #ccsakura #clear card arc #clear card manga #chapter 39

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