#it has caused me more fear and frustration and pain than a true safety | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beomglocks · 3 years

Text

better ; c.yj

summary : you deserve better

pairing : ex-boyfriend/mafia leader!yeonjun x reader

warnings & other : angst, mention of trauma, stalking and kidnapping, yeonjun breaks into your house, refer to picture for visual, i saw this edit on ig and now my mind has fuel, listen to better by WOOGIE.

w/c : ???

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the sunlight peeks through your shades and onto your face, causing you to stir in your sleep. you squeeze your eyes tightly shut hoping your brain can trick itself into sleeping for just a couple more hours longer.

it works for a couple of seconds. closing your eyes tight may have tricked your brain into thinking it was still dark enough to indulge in more sleep.

you sigh peacefully, hoping to get back to your previous dream but you're cut off by the sound of a door being slammed shut.

you open your eyes but remain in bed. it had to be around 7am at least which means no one should be in your house. well, no one should be in your house period. if it was a robber, they sure do work early.

you get out of bed, not caring about your lack of proper clothes because if you were gonna die, what's the point? you take careful steps toward your kitchen to make sure you don't alert whoever may be in there.

the sound of things being moved around and frustrated groans grows louder the closer you get to the room. you grab your nearby safety bat from a corner in your hallway and bring it above your head to swing.

when you come into the line of sight of the intruder in your house you halt yourself from swinging and bring the bat down to your side, the person not realizing yet that you're there.

anger bubbles inside of you at the sight of the sleeve of tattoos and dark head of hair that you recognize all too well.

"what the fuck are you doing in my house yeonjun?"

the boy in question seemingly pays no mind to your question and simply continues rummaging through your fridge and cupboards. "where the hell do you keep your peanut butter?"

you cross your arms at him. "i asked you a question."

"so did i," he retorts. you roll your eyes at him. "you're in my house ass hole, in case you forgot."

he subtly rolls his eyes away from your line of sight and stands up from the fridge. now that he's seen you, his eyes linger on your body for longer than you're ok with. he leans back on your counter with a smile, a visible change in his demeanor, "good morning."

"answer my question," you frown. he sighs, "we got busted and i needed a place to crash."

"yeonjun!" you exasperate. "what? i slept on the couch out of respect for you," he raises his eyebrow, taking a bite out of his slice of dry bread.

"what the fuck do you want me to do, thank you? i told you not to involve me in your mafia gang whatever shit anymore and you go and do this," you gesture to the mess on your countertop.

"yeonjun you're the only other person here! what's with all this shit on my table?!" he continues eating nonchalantly as you scold him and try to clean up as best as you can.

"can you calm down," he sighs. he takes another bite of bread before placing the plate on top of a random box of pizza. "no one saw me come here, you'll be fine."

you continue cleaning, without saying a word to him. you feel like if you open your mouth you'll explode. you clench your teeth as you watch him look through your fridge again out of the corner of your eye.

it's been months since you last saw him and this is the first thing he does. from the counter, you have a pretty good view of his back as he looks through the fridge.

even though you hate him, your mind wanders back in time when that same back would be littered with your marks and scratches. the neck tattoo that would be colored with hickeys he would proudly wear is now bare and untouched.

your eyes go up to his head which thankfully is still turned away from you. the pink mullet he used to rock is now a dark undercut with hints of red. it looks good on him, you have to admit. his ears have more piercings than you remember and you hold back a smile thinking about the time when you would play with his ears and he would tell you to stop.

"you're awfully quiet, what're you thinking about?" he asks, still facing the fridge. you have to remember your relationship with the mafia leader ended months ago, whatever feelings that were present right now were most likely your heart missing human interaction.

"thinking about how i want you out of my house," you mumble, picking up a half empty cup of ramen. he sighs, standing up and fixing his messy hair.

"i said i was sorry," he leans back on the fridge, watching you clean. you bite your tongue, picking up the empty pizza box and tossing it in the trash. "sorry doesn't make up for trauma yeonjun, that's what you don't understand," you say quietly.

"if i knew that would happen to you i wouldn't have left you alone, you know i would've had soobin or taehyun be around you 24/7!" he reasons.

"well you didn't," you breathe out. you give him a tight lipped smile and for the first time in months he's reminded of the pain he saw in you eyes when they brought you back.

"you decided drugs and money were more important than your fucking girlfriend that you love "oh-so-much" getting stalked and kidnapped."

“that’s not tr-“ “that’s what it felt like!” you place an empty soda bottle on the table. he blinks at your outburst. in all the time you’ve spent together, you were never one to lash out even when he annoyed you to no end.

he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek in frustration. "y/n," he sighs angrily.

"even after i killed them all? it wasn't enough for you! you still left me," he steps closer to you and you unconsciously step back. you recognized this tone on yeonjun but he never used it on you. it's gravely and deep and on the rare occasion that you did hear it, the outcome was never good.

"yeonjun..."

"no, look- i know what happened to you was fucked up but i tried my best! it still wasn't enough- you still left and didn't even tell me.." he chuckles at this. "do you know how long it took to find this fucking place?"

you look down, suddenly feeling small. any bravery you had has now dissipated. it's like your mind and body were so used to yeonjun that you just knew when to submit.

"you were my only sense of normalcy in that place," he mumbles. "sure i've got the boys but they're not you.."

his head is hung low, making his hair cover his eyes. your first instinct would've been to run into his arms and pepper him in kisses. endless strings of 'i love you' to reassure both of you that what happened wasn't either of your faults.

you bite your lip, "is that why all this food is like this..."

he doesn't move from his spot. "im sorry, i miss you." you almost feel your heart break. you hate seeing yeonjun so messed up about something that he just eats to forget because it's his only other form of happiness, well apart from you.

you walk up to him, bringing your arms around his slim frame. at first, he doesn't hug you back since he wasn't expecting that but soon enough he engulfs you as if he's been touch starved for ages.

"im sorry, please come back to me? i'll do better, i promise you won't get hurt anymore hm?" he sounds hopeful and it makes you close your eyes.

"you need to leave," you say quietly. you feel him hug you tighter as he places his chin on your head. "please let me stay with you," he pleads.

you force yourself to step away from him which takes a lot more effort than you thought. you look up at his face and he looks so broken. it’s rare to see a mafia leader look this vulnerable but yeonjun opens himself up to you like this at times and you feel lucky, in a weird way.

he watches you expectantly, waiting for your answer. “yeonjun i just- i don’t feel safe around you anymore.”

you swear you see his heart shatter right in front of your face.

you want to hit yourself but it’s true. where you once felt peace you only feel fear. maybe once upon a time yeonjun was like your savior but now he brings pain, especially with the type of work he does.

he looks down, biting his lip. you can tell he's trying to act like what you said didn't just tear a hole straight through his heart. "you know i'll still watch over you and keep you safe," he promises.

you smile lightly at him, glad that he hasn't completely given up. "i know." he wastes no time stealing a kiss on your forehead, quickly moving away before you can complain or push him away.

"you still fucked up my kitchen though," you say when he starts walking away to your door. he only shrugs as you watch him walk out your door and out onto the streets.

you can only sigh, hoping he'll be safe until he can get his base back.

#yeonjun imagines #yeonjun reactions #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun angst #yeonjun drabble #txt imagines #drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcannons #yeonjun headcannons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #yeonjun timestamps #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x reader #angst

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stardust-kenobi · 3 years

Text

My Purpose

Din Djarin/Mando x Reader

Summary: You're captured by the Empire, held for questioning concerning the location of the child. Under Moff Gideon's supervision, you endure harsh punishment. You knew that Din would never leave you behind. The moment you heard blasters firing rapidly outside your holding cell, you knew he'd come back for you.

Warnings: violence, mild torture to reader (no SA), mention of blood, death, reader being "helpless", helmetless Din, fluff

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: I mean, don't we all fantasize about being rescued by a bounty hunter as a helpless damsel in distress? Just me? well, enjoy anyways. This honestly reads like a Mandalorian episode. @ jon favreau, hire me pls. reader is referred to as “her” once or twice but otherwise can be read as gender neutral.

gif credit: @isetthetone

"I won't talk" You spat at the men towering over you. You were firm, and steady in your composure. More troopers, higher ranking than the predecessors, continued in the attempt to break you. The Empire wanted the child, and you'd never let them get close. The vents blasted near frozen air onto your shoulders from above, insulated in your holding cell that was encased with metal and designed for discomfort.

Without another helpless word, and the press of a little red button, bolts of electricity coursed throughout your already exhausted body, delivered by the small device forcibly wrapped around your head. The pain was excruciating, but you were beginning to feel numb with every passing second. This was the 5th...no, 6th time...so far, that this pain has been inflicted on you. It benefitted neither party in the room. You offered no evidence of weakness aside from your obvious pain. They had to know that you weren't any close to revealing any useful information.

"If you won't talk, Moff Gideon will be taking matters into his own hands. Give us the location of the kid, or suffer the consequences" Their voices were muffled in a similar way that Din's helmet muffled his voice. It reminded you of him in an oddly comforting way. You missed him terribly already. Without even seeing the true look in Din's eyes when they captured you only seconds before you were able to make it to the Razor Crest, you knew his heart made the most difficult decision he's ever had to make. You knew it was you or the child, and neither of us would ever let them get their hands on him.

Although you kept your composure in the presence of your captors, you were scared. Petrified, even. Din swore to himself many months ago to protect you in exchange for you assisting him in raising the child. You knew little of childcare, but Din knew you could both figure it out together. After all, you did owe him big time for saving your life when you first met. And here we were, right back where it all started...you needed to be saved again. You hoped he'd gotten the child miles away from here by now. You'd lost track of time but it felt like hours, maybe even half a day at this point.

Your silence was the only response to the further questions.

"Suit yourself" One of the troopers scoffed, and swiftly exited with his partner. The door slid open and closed just barely long enough for them to leave. You were then trapped, cold, and alone again. As much as you wanted to be relieved from your situation, you cared significantly more for the safety of the child and your armored protector.

The minutes dragged and your chest felt heavy as the panic began to sink in. This was it for you. No way they’d let you leave after being of no use to them. Your death was inevitable, and your racing thoughts began to slow as you came to peace with that.

You heard the faint hissing of a door on the other side of your cell, signifying someone's entry. Then suddenly, your cell door slid open, revealing a towering figure. Although you'd never seen the late Darth Vader, the way you imagined him was reflected in this man.

The jet-black shine of his armor was enough to startle you in his presence. But his expression...the menacing grin framed the picture of a despicable man.

Your face was blank. Showing any fear was not an option right now. Although, you were subtly trembling in your seat.

"You know that you've made a big mistake, right?" He said, approaching you slowly, using his height to tower over you while you were seated on a steel bench.

Silence.

"Your beloved bounty hunter isn't coming back for you," Moff Gideon said softly, getting uncomfortably close to your face. "Why not just comply with our requests so we can move along with the search? hm?"

"You'll never find them" You hissed at him.

"Oh, actually I will. That you can count on" He laughed. The insulting tone made you sick. "However, if you tell us where they are, your torture will come to an end and we can get this whole thing over with. What do you say?"

"Never."

"Your persistence is admiring, truly it is. But why waste your time? He doesn't care about you. He's a Mandalorian. They only care about their creed. Everything else is just...a commodity."

You shook your head in denial. That wasn't true.

"You're wrong."

His gloved hand firmly grabbed your chin, pulling your face up toward him. You cringed and winced under his touch.

“Where are they?” He persistently shouted in your face. You jolted your head backward in attempt to put distance between the two of you. With your response of more silence, you were met with a sharp and painful blow to the side of your face. You turned to look back at him, trying to collect yourself from the pain. His fist was still tight and ready to throw another punch.

The second punch was worse, it radiated pain through your entire skull and caused your eyes to go blurry for a moment. The cuts already open on your cheek were split open with damage you were taking. You felt the blood begin to drip down your face. Any additional infliction would be hell, but you’d take any pain necessary to keep everything you loved safe.

His other hand brought to your attention a small red button. The same button the stormtroopers used to electrocute you before. You whimpered in anticipation and tears involuntarily formed in your eyes.

A deranged smile spread across his face. Your fear just fueled his power. And just before he could inflict any additional pain on you, he seemed to have received transmission into his ear.

His brows furrowed. His eyes then locked with yours.

"Repeat, commander" a look of concern was on his face. Disbelief, even.

"Don't let him step foot on my ship" Moff Gideon seethed.

Although you were uninformed to the other side of the conversation, there was no question. You grinned ear to ear. He came back for you. Of course he did.

"Well, change of plans. The Mandalorian dies today" Moff Gideon snickered.

"We'll see about that" You whispered.

The ship shook and vibrated under your feet. As if a ship had docked...or crashed, maybe. Moff Gideon snapped his attention behind him, as if he could see what was happening through the secured doors.

Another transmission came through, one you still weren't able to hear.

"If he doesn't have the child, then he's no use to me. Kill him."

Your heart sank at the mere thought of losing him. But it wouldn't happen. Gideon's troopers were no match.

Moff Gideon kept his close watch over you while he hid like a coward in your cell with you. His hand rested atop his blaster in preparation for what he knew was to come. The cruiser you were aboard had a crew of probably 50 people. If they all served to be as awful at combat as other troopers that you’d seen Din take down, you’d be rescued in no time.

You watched Gideon’s body language grow more and more nervous and fidgety as the commotion grew on the other side of the door. Blasters and the sharp clinking of metal filled the narrow space of the ships walls. That muffled sound was moving closer. As the situation became less favorable for Gideon, it became more favorable for you. That fact alone put a smile on your face.

Then suddenly…three loud bangs penetrated the walls. It sounded as though someone was trying to break through the first door. But that wasn’t regular armor hitting the metal…it was beskar. Gideon trembled. He jolted when the banging arrived at your cell door. He was displeased to hear you laugh at his reaction, which fueled his anger.

He yanked your arm and threw you in front of him as a human shield, pulling his arm around your chest and igniting the dark saber, holding it only centimeters from your throat. The blade vibrated loudly, threatening to take your life in one motion. What a fucking coward. Can’t even fight without using you as bait.

It took less time for Din to break through the second door. Within seconds, the door snapped and broke open, revealing your protector wrapped in his armor as usual. What was unusual, though, was the splattered blood across his chest plate. You couldn’t even imagine what he’d just been through to get to you.

“Step another foot closer and she dies” Moff Gideon insisted.

“Let her go” his soothing voice broke through his helmet, calming your nerves, even with death being only a movement away. “You’re outnumbered, Moff Gideon”

“I would disagree. It seems it’s one on one”

He pulled the saber closer to your neck. You whimpered and squinted your eyes shut. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you opened them back up. You see Din’s fist in a ball, revealing his frustration and anger.

“Based on your fighting skills I’d say it’s more like two on one, wouldn’t you think?” Din snapped back at him.

“Alright. Let’s fight then, Mandalorian” Gideon said with a smirk on his face. He threw you down carelessly back onto the bench. You cried out in pain as your face hit in the cold seat.

Both men circled one another with their weapon of choice in the ready position. The saber was still ignited, and Din had his staff of beskar. No lightsaber could ever cut through beskar, not even the dark saber. Din swung first, striking Gideon’s side armor. He retaliated, only to be met with the staff that rejected the saber’s power.

There were flashes of blinding light back and forth, both men having a fair chance against the other. You watched in terrifying anticipation, fearful of Din’s safety. You believed in him, but to watch him fight scared you. After a few minutes, Din finally had Gideon pinned against the floor, with the beskar staff pointed right below his chin. The saber was thrown from his hands, and out of his reach.

This was it, you thought. We are getting out of here.

But not yet. Gideon made a move so swiftly you couldn’t even comprehend what had happened. The staff was knocked from Din’s grip, and he was thrown backward onto the floor. Gideon somehow maneuvered himself on top of him now, with the staff in his control.

No. Please no.

He could’ve killed him in one motion, but instead, Gideon pushed the staff under the grip of Din’s helmet and forcefully pulled it from his head, slicing his chin in the process. You gasped and looked away, to be respectful of his creed. You’d never seen him without his helmet. All you caught glimpse of was the deep brown color of his hair.

You only listened now, as you were unable to watch how this would end.

“You have nothing now” Gideon started, breathing heavy through his words. “Your creed has been broken. You have no purpose” he laughed, pleased with himself for to bring shame to his opponent. "Give it up, Din Djarin."

A familiar voice broke the air that you’d ever only heard through the distortion of a helmet. You gasped softly.

“She is my purpose. The child is my purpose. I won’t let you take that away from me” Din said. It sounded like the voice was directed toward you rather than Gideon based on your positioning. You melted at his words.

Not another word was spoken before the clanging of metal filled the room again, you couldn’t tell what was happening, which made you all the more terrified. Gideon groaned in pain, it sounded as if he was on the ground now.

“You’ll never take the child. And you’ll never see the light of day again. All because you took my girl” Din breathed deep through his words.

You heard the dark saber ignite again.

The vibration from the saber indicated a swift movement.

A loud thud against the ground.

Silence.

You trembled with your arms covering your head in a fetal position on the bench. You knew it had to be Din who was still standing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Y/N” his warm voice graced your ears only inches from behind you. You audibly sobbed. Knowing immediately you were safe. He was still helmet-less, you could tell. You turned over to face him, but kept your eyes closed so you wouldn’t see him.

The electrocution device wrapped around your head was removed gently. You'd somehow forgotten it was even there. His hands then wrapped around yours as you moved to sit in an upright position.

“Look at me” he pleased softly

“But your hel-” you started

“Look at me” he insisted, squeezing your hands gently.

Your eyelids folded open slowly. You weren’t afraid, but you were hesitant. He was crouched in front of you. What you saw as your gaze met his, took your breath away. His eyes were brown, a match to his hair you caught glimpse of before. It was Din. You were finally seeing the man you loved for what he really looked like. He was so beautiful. All the words you wanted to say failed to leave your mouth as you scanned his face over and over again. His expression was riddled with worry and concern.

“Did he do this to you?” He referred to the gash above your cheek, and the other visible bruising down your body. You were suddenly aware of how deeply he cared for you.

On the verge of tears and still remaining speechless, you nodded your head. “I’m okay”

“He’ll never take you from me or lay a hand on you again” your eyes travelled over to Gideon’s lifeless body on the floor. Din gently pulled your face back to look at him so you wouldn’t be more traumatized than you already were.

“I’m here” he reassured you. A smile formed on his lips. Maker…that smile. You were seeing him smile for the first time. Sweat and patches of blood scattered Din's face. You couldn't imagine the hell he went through to get to you.

“But Din, your helmet” you remained confused. You knew that meeting other Mandalorian recently may have changed his outlook but you never thought he’d break the creed intentionally. He could’ve put it back on. But he didn’t.

“It’s okay... I wanted to see you with my own eyes. You are my purpose now, y/n”

He said it again. The same sentiment that surprised you before. Your heart was so full in that moment.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner" He remorsefully spoke. "Its my job to protect you, and I almost failed you. It'll never happen again"

You shake your head. He didn't need to apologize. He was here now and that's all that mattered.

“I’ve never been happier to see someone’s face in my entire life” you say, continuing to admire his features. You bring your hand to cup the side of his face. He closed his eyes gently as a result of your caress. Your skin against his was so mesmerizing...so new to you...so new to him. You halted your gaze this time at his lips and then looked back to his eyes. He was looking at your lips too.

Neither of you had to say another word. An unspoken desire between the two of you was about to be fulfilled. His finger guided your chin closer to him.

The silence was so loud. The lack of troopers and personnel on the ship was haunting, yet somehow incredibly peaceful. The beating of your heart was beginning to fill that silence in your ears. It beat rapidly in response to your near death experience in addition to being this close to him. Being completely alone and intimate with him.

You leaned in to him with his guidance. As your lips just barely brushed against his, you took a sharp breath in. The skin on his lips was supple and warm. As you fully pressed your mouth against his, you fell apart into his kiss. Your whole body was encased in warmth and a feeling of security from this closeness with him. His hand rested against the back of your neck and pulled you closer into the kiss, if that was even possible. Even though you were truly alone, this kiss alone made it feel like you and him were the only two people left in the whole galaxy.

You never wanted to pull away from him. You both waited so long for this moment.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that" He whispered, as the kiss finally broke.

"I do, Din. Trust me I do" You giggled. You were captivated by the feeling that this kiss had left with you.

He pulled his head back to take another look at you.

"Let's get you home" He said, before standing to his feet.

Even weak from his battle wounds, he scooped you up into his arms, and carried you back to the Razor Crest.

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prof-peach · 3 years

Note

Hey Prof, I need your advice.

My sister recently decided she didn't wanted her bulbasaur anymore (she got him on a whim about a month ago) and gave him to me, he is quite violent and tends to attack when I try to get close to him.

Now, that wouldn't be a huge problem, but my Purrloin has gotten hurt trying to befriend him, she's quite outgoing and never really liked fighting (we enjoy contests so she knows a few more flashy attacks), so she couldn't even defend herself properly.

I don't want to give up on him and my local rescue center is filled with Bunearies (you know, after Easter kids don't want their Bunny anymore) so they can't take him in right now, any advice in how I can go about this situation?

Sounds to me like you have a tricky little dude on your hands. So you're not battle orientated which will make this harder, Bulbasaur in the wild are actually quite combat minded to defend their families and territory, and a lot of their herds consist of strict hierarchy based on power and skill, often led by older, fully evolved members of their group.

Before you take any actions to befriend them, its worth noting that any pokemon who comes into your care showing aggression is usually doing so for one or two reasons that are pretty universal for any species. Fear being the main issue with pokemon who have been ditched, if a pokemon is unwell, if it feels exposed, if it is unsure of you or your home, your partners, it may lash out because it is afraid. Even what looks like pure anger can stem from a fear. Of course some individuals are just full of rage, its not unheard of, but for the most part it comes from somewhere else.

For a moment, take the time to put yourself in this pokemons shoes. It was chosen, with hopes and ambitions of its own, by your sister, a stranger to them, and for whatever reason they were cast aside. This reason may be unclear to the pokemon, it may be unfair, unkind, or even without malice just out of pure indifference. No matter the reason, this pokemon has been left behind by a trainer it at one point probably wanted to try to get along with. I don’t know what your sister may or may not have done, or provided for the bulbasaur, but it will help you understand how its feeling, if you were to ask her about their relationship prior to you receiving the pokemon. If it has always been aggressive and angry, i’d seriously consider talking to it about release, not rehome.

We humans have a preconceived notion that pokemon are pets and things to keep with us. This may be true for some sure, but not every pokemon wishes to be a captive to a human, they may want more for themselves, and wish for a free life with their own kind. We cannot put our wants and desires above that of the pokemons, so you two need to have a talk, at a respectful distance for safeties sake, to see what the Bulbasaur feels they may want. These are herd pokemon, born and bred to be with their own kind, if not a larger group, if its lonely, if it wants to go home, to start a family, or simply to not be held in a ball as some creature to be owned, then you as its current carer must give it what you can. You can always find another pokemon who wants to be your partner, but you cannot give back lost years to a pokemon who has lived a life its unhappy with. Treat them with respect, and be open and honest. At the end of the day we have a chance to help pokemon, and forcing what we want onto them is a hinderance, and will lead to them feeling unsatisfied and bitter in the long run.

Some pokemon lash out due to the process of being handed off to someone else, trust is earnt, not always just simply given to whoever holds the pokeball. Remember this as you move forward, and try to keep your other pokemon away from them, Bulbasaur are territorial species, and have to accept pokemon into their families before simply allowing them to come and go freely into their personal space. Despite their grouchy natures at times they usually do have a morally positive compass, and defend with ferocity when they love something. Perhaps in you showing genuine concern for their welfare and future, offering them not what you want, but instead what they want, they may give you a chance to get closer, but take baby steps, and try to be their friend above all else. I bet they're feeling pretty lonely right now.

Its worth sharing interests with the pokemon, talk about contests, see if they're interested, some pokemon have a predisposition for this, others have no interest and prefer more battle based lives, or even peaceful non-competitive existences. no amount of pressure will change a pokemon’s nature, and some just aren't cut out for the fine art of showmanship that contests require. You can however use powerful attacks in showy ways, so theres always hope that they could enjoy it, if you can work with them to their strengths.

If possible, work to getting them outdoors, cooping grass types up can lead to stroppy, testing personalities, many thrive in the outdoors, he may need some serious outside time to compensate for the lack of exercise and natural stimulation they may have not been getting prior to your ownership. There are plenty of areas in public that are much like tennis courts, areas of space you can book for a set amount of time too exercise difficult pokemon, these locations are often secure facilities, both outdoors and indoors, to suit a range of species. find one that has outdoor facilities and book a few hours per week to go there, increasing the time whenever possible. This exercise and time with you may help to find common ground, and topics that you and the bulbasaur can bond over. This can be anything from battles, to sun bathing, playing sports, games, swimming, running or digging, and everything in between. Bulbasaur naturally are great foragers and tend to like to snaffle about in long grass and shrubland, hiding treats like berry slices in a secure environment is good enrichment and can tire the pokemon out. a tired pokemon is usually a little less aggressive, having lower energy levels and less want to expend attacks. this process also associated you with something fun, and your scent will be on the treats too, so they'll know you were the one to provide this activity for them.

I’d also take plenty of time to observe the bulbasaur, as your sister got them on a whim, they probably had no prior knowledge of the species, or how to correctly care for them. In a month, a health complaint could have begun to show, so observe their colouration, feet, walking gait, sleeping patterns, feeding habits, and general behaviour. Excess scratching, heavy breathing, or unusual shaking or moving can suggest a health condition is starting to take form. Most can be helped if caught early, but some illnesses give the pokemon discomfort, and can lead to snappy tempers and irritability. It could be that this individual is in pain, or finding life difficult due to its health, which can cause a lot of hostility as i’m sure anyone would agree. It can suck to be sick!

This species can be won over if you can prove you have a skill of worth to them. This is the case with a lot of pokemon, having respect for something they cannot do, and learning that they need things from you can lead to them at least tolerating us humans. Its a foot in the door. A trick i like t use with particularly difficult bulbasaur is to give them their fav food, whatever it is, then put it in a clear container the pokemon cannot open. They have no thumbs, and their vines though dexterous, aren't able to open every kind of container. The pokemon will want whats inside, and be unable to access it. they will eventually give up out of frustration. this is where you come in. enter the space, don’t let your pokemon approach as this can be threatening, and open the container. leave it on the floor open, making sure they've watched you get the thing open. They can then approach and enjoy their fav food, all thanks to you and those wondrous thumbs you have. repeating this process yields good results, and starts a mutual relationship of tolerance and acceptance between you and a bulbasaur. Most will accept they want the food more than they want you gone, and you provide something they can’t get to. whatever you do, don’t let them see that you were the one to lock the food up in the container. Get a friend to do it, or do it in the room, and leave it in place on the floor, before allowing the bulbasaur to enter and investigate the item. If they see you're the one doing it, the trick is foiled, and your back to square one. Eventually this does tend to lead to the pokemon becoming less stressed with you around them, and eventually it leads to trust, and even friendship. This trick is good to use to get them use to you, once they're ok with you being around them because of your use to them, they may start to take food from you directly, engage in play, or even just sit and tolerate company for short periods of time. Do not expect this to be quick, but it does usually do the trick.

Regardless, i do have concern that the pokemon may want to be with its own, should you discuss this and find they're not interested in being housebound and a pet, feel free to send them our way, we had exactly this situation in mind when setting up the islands facilities, and have extensive locations designed with grass pokemosn needs at the forefront. Theres a small herd of about 12 bulbasaur evolutions that live north of our labs, no people see them, they are happy as a unit, and are left alone to go about their lives, with the only interactions between humans being us giving them their yearly health check, or should we spot them with an issue, we may intervene. They live away from others and pretty much free, in a poacher safe environment. Its not ideal, we like to keep pokemon in areas they come from, with people who love them, and you show great concern for the pokemon so it would be a shame to have to let them go, BUT sometimes thats just life, and theres nothing to be done about it other than accepting that the pokemons wants come first. They may just be mistrusting so try everything else first, and see how you go. hopefully you’ll yield some results from this all. Good luck out there trainer.

#long post #bulbasaur #prof.peach #peach talks

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

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you're not living in this world alone

i wrote this in one sitting and i'm sorry i don't really know what the point is i was just frustrated lmao, the song title is from "enjoy your life" by marina which is what i'm manifesting for COT. i don't think there are any triggers beyond what you would expect: mentions of bullying and elias' shitty parenting

Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

“And how would you know where Alastair was yesterday afternoon?” Matthew mused.

Thomas exhaled. The truth was a long time coming. “Because I was with him. Alastair and I are friends.”

“Friends? After everything he’s done? You can forgive him so easily?”

“It’s been years since school, Matthew. He’s grown and changed since then, just as you and I have. I have forgiven him, and I ask that you respect that, even if you choose not to.”

“Respect that? Thomas, how could I-” He moved closer and lowered his voice as if that would effectively prevent Cordelia from hearing him, despite her sitting mere feet away. “I don’t know what he said to you, but you don’t owe him anything just because he helped you with the whole serial killer business. Listen, Thomas, you’re very kind, and Alastair… Well, I know what type of person Alastair is, and he’s the kind that understands well how to take advantage of kindness. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Thomas could see Cordelia straining to stop herself from reacting. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“And you do?”

“I know more than you, continuing to reduce him to the horrible nonsense he said over four years ago.”

Matthew flinched. “Horrible nonsense? That’s what you’d call the things he said about my parents, about your parents, the things that made your mother cry?”

Thomas bit back involuntary tears. He knew how those words had hurt his family. His intention was never to reduce the gravity of them. “Don’t you dare use my own words against me! What about the things you said, Matthew?”

Matthew crossed his arms. “I have not a clue what you’re talking about. Whatever he told you were lies, I’m sure-”

“Did you forget that I was there that day? I’d nearly forgotten because it was so long ago, but I remember. I was trying to help Alastair because he was in a very bad way. Clive had just died. I know that the prank affected you, too, maybe even more so, but Alastair said that the prank wasn’t his idea, and I believe him. Clive was Alastair’s bully long before he was any of ours, and I don’t blame Alastair for fearing his own safety and going along with his stupid, dangerous plan. At the end of the day, it’s just not something you need to blame someone for. Alastair learned his lesson in the worst way possible. Someone died.

“I could tell that the other boys’ parents coming to the school in the aftermath of it all was upsetting him because he knew that Elias would never come to his rescue. You can jest all you’d like, Matthew, about how if he was your son, you wouldn’t care about him either, but it’s never going to be funny.”

A stillness fell on the room, a look of guilt creeping over James’ face, a look of panic having set in on Matthew’s shortly after Thomas began speaking. Cordelia stood up abruptly. “Excuse me?” She turned to Matthew. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Never to his face! It was just a joke. I didn’t mean it-”

“Is that supposed to make it better? All those times that you acted as if were some heroic feat for me to love him… Now I’m not sure if they were jokes or if you genuinely believe he’s less deserving of love than you or I. All this time my brother suffered in silence, he shielded me from it all so that I would never have to know what kind of person my father really was, he sacrificed his own well-being for mine, meanwhile… you all were here, making jokes about it.”

Thomas expected Cordelia to be angry, and she was, on some level. Her expression was haunted, however, her eyes holding even more guilt than Matthew’s. He realized, suddenly, what she must be thinking: How dare they discuss in passing something she never realized herself? How could Thomas and his friends see it so clearly when she could not? Thomas wanted to tell her that Alastair didn’t try to hide it from them, not in the way that he hid it from her, that he’s learned from his parents that in many cases you it’s more difficult to see the bad in those you love, your heart always searching for the good, but James began to speak instead.

“Daisy-” James started.

“No,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. Thomas, finish.”

“I- What?” he stammered, nearly forgetting how the conversation began. His heart was racing; he shouldn’t have said so much, he knew. It would only cause more pain. He simply needed all of this nonsense about Alastair to stop, and he did not know how besides telling the truth.

“What happened that day at the Academy,” she prompted.

“Right. He… he was in a bad way, because of Clive’s death and because of his father. He told me to leave him alone, but I didn’t because I thought that I could help. I… I thought that he shouldn’t be alone. Now I wish that I had gone, because Matthew went looking for me. He found me with Alastair and started insulting him. He made fun of his hair, which I know sounds silly, but it wasn’t, was it? That’s why he changed it,” Thomas realized as he spoke. “So that he would- so he wouldn’t look Persian. Matthew could tell that it bothered him so much, that’s why he continued to say it.”

Thomas sighed as he continued. Alastair should be the one saying all of this, but he would never, nor would Matthew ever hear it. “Matthew asked him if no one cared about him enough to tell him that he looked silly, not his friends or his father. He told him that the prank was entirely his fault, that it was his fault Clive was dead. And then Alastair asked me to leave. I assume that’s when Alastair said the things he did, and I’m assuming that’s where he got the bruise I saw on his face later.”

“And Matthew placed Alastair’s belongings in the wing that Christopher blew up,” James offered.

“Sorry,” Christopher chimed in, though no one was much concerned about him or his actions that day.

“What? Was I meant to not retaliate after he said those things to me?” Matthew’s eyes narrowed at them.

Thomas was exasperated. “Of course that’s not what I’m saying! I’m saying that you need to stop pretending like you haven’t said and done things to Alastair that were just as terrible as what he’s said to you!”

“Are you serious?” Matthew asked. He looked to James for a defense, but none came.

“This entire time you’ve acted as if the whole ordeal was one-sided,” Cordelia said. “Like you were just some child helpless against my brother’s cruel words, but that was never the case, was it?”

Matthew didn’t respond.

“I need some time to think,” she said finally, walking quickly out of the tavern without waiting for a response.

Matthew turned back to Thomas. “Is this how it’s going to be now?”

“What do you mean? Me, not letting you mercilessly take out your own problems on someone who’s been trying to make amends, someone who has been through far enough? I suppose so. It’s up to you, Matthew. As I said before, you don’t need to forgive him, but I have. You are my friend, but so is he. He doesn’t have a problem with that. Do you?”

Matthew finally resigned himself. “No,” he said quietly.

Thomas knew this was only the beginning. Cordelia was almost certainly on her way to confront her brother, and soon this would be an even larger discussion. There were apologies and amends that still needed to be made. Even more, Thomas knew that Matthew’s issues with Alastair ran deeper than his actual dislike for the man, but he knew that allowing him to continue to take his own guilt and self-hatred out on Alastair would only continue to make life more difficult for all of them. Both Alastair and Matthew deserved to be free of it. Once Matthew was free of this nonsense with Alastair, Thomas knew that the real work towards true freedom would begin. And once Alastair was free of it… Thomas could only hope for what would come next.

Thanks for reading! Tagging my usual suspects (lmk to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs

#thomas lightwood #cordelia carstairs #matthew crit tag #alastair carstairs #the last hours #tlh #fanfic #fanfiction

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the-blue-fairie · 3 years

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On the Subject of Aporia

I guess I disagree with the notion that Show Yourself is Let it Go done “the right way.”

Much can be made of the fact that, in Let it Go, Elsa doesn’t truly work through her issues. But the thing is... she doesn’t really work through her issues in Show Yourself either. She doesn’t confront the roots of her trauma. She isn’t able to meditate on the roots of her trauma. She doesn’t get true catharsis and she doesn’t get true relief. In fact, Show Yourself goes some ways to sweep the roots of Elsa’s trauma under the rug.

And here I have to discuss how Frozen 2 frames Agnarr and Iduna. Because Frozen 2 never dwells upon the part Agnarr and Iduna played in Elsa’s trauma. It idealizes them, ignoring the fact that they were the ones to initiate the separation of the sisters in the first place, they were the ones who taught Elsa that she had to hide.

In the past, I’ve seen people put the blame on Elsa for the separation - saying that her fear after the accident instigated it and pointing to the fact that Elsa herself continues the separation after her parents’ death.

This reading is disingenuous, to say the least. While the accident scarred Elsa as a child, the separation (which was instigated by her parents, with the affirmation and complicity of the trolls) was what cemented the self-hatred in her heart. Elsa continued the separation after her parents’ death because she learned it well throughout her childhood.

I don’t like the fact that certain people place the blame for the childhood separation on Elsa, who was a terrified child at the time. A terrified child listening to the adults around her, adults in positions of authority. Adults who chose to close the gates, reduce the staff, limit her contact with people, and keep her powers secret from everyone, including Anna.

You can’t blame a child in an extreme situation the same as you blame an adult - but I’ve seen people in the fandom do it - and it frustrates me.

And again, as I’ve always said, Agnarr and Iduna are in an extreme situation too - and they are working under the guidance of the trolls. Agnarr and Iduna are good people - but their choices still contributed to their daughters’ pain.

And neither the films nor the shorts show the sisters processing their parents’ actions and how those actions hurt them.

Not even Dangerous Secrets does that - because Dangerous Secrets focuses on Iduna’s and Agnarr’s perspective. It’s not about the sisters processing what their parents did to them.

And again, “processing” doesn’t mean “condemnation.” I’m not advocating that the sisters condemn or hate their parents. Processing can also mean realizing that their parents were in a painful situation and forgiving them, accepting what happened.

But neither the films, nor the shorts, nor Dangerous Secrets do any of that. Even though coming to terms with the past is a key theme in Frozen 2 and a theme that centers on Agnarr and Iduna, Frozen 2 ignores their part in the childhood separation altogether.

It could have brought it up and, in bringing it up, it could have beautifully paralleled Iduna having to hide being Northuldra with Elsa having to hide her powers. It could have the sisters, as they are forced to make tough choices, sympathize with the tough choices their parents had to make. It could have truly confronted the roots of Elsa’s trauma by referencing the separation when Elsa meets her mother in Ahtohallan, giving the scene greater emotional weight. Or, the film could have highlighted that the True Evil comes from people like Runeard - whose fear causes him to kill, whereas Iduna and Agnarr’s fear for their children’s safety caused them to try and protect, even in an imperfect way.

The possibilities that present themselves are limitless - but only if Frozen 2 had the courage to address Agnarr’s and Iduna’s part in the childhood separation - and it didn’t. It had multiple opportunities to. It simply made the deliberate choice not to do so - to brush those actions essentially under the rug.

It’s like the movie thinks that, if it references Agnarr and Iduna’s part in the separation, that will make Agnarr and Iduna seem bad. But actually, the opposite would be true. If the film directly addressed Agnarr’s and Iduna’s part in the separation, they would become even more sympathetic because viewers would get a clearer understanding of what they were going through and see clearly how they were good people. On top of that, both Elsa and Anna could get a chance at true closure with them.

But the film goes out of its way not to bring that topic up. Even when Olaf recaps the first film, it’s like this: “[as Elsa] Anna, no too high! Blast! [as Anna] Ohhh! [as Elsa] Mama Papa Help! Slam, doors shutting everywhere, sisters torn apart. Well, at least they have their parents. [beat] Their parents are dead.” “Doors shutting everywhere” and “sisters torn apart” describes the event passively. It’s just “something that happened.” The problem is, within the context of the first film, it’s not just “something that happened.” It’s something that happened as a direct result of the trolls’ choices and Agnarr’s and Iduna’s choices. And I stress their choices over Elsa’s because she was a child in this situation and they are the adults in authority.

Thus, in a film that’s supposedly all about coming to terms with the mistakes of the past, a film where Agnarr and Iduna play a crucial role, this aspect of the past is actively ignored. Even though not ignoring this aspect of the past would enrich both films and clarify things more fully for people who are on the fence about Agnarr and Iduna (also, hopefully it could address the trolls’ part in all this, because no piece of Frozen media even begins to grapple with the trolls’ part in all this.)

And I know you might say, “Well, Dangerous Secrets addresses the parents’ part in the children’s separation!” And that’s good that it does so. But that still doesn’t get to my central point: that no piece of Frozen media shows Elsa and Anna coming to terms with what their parents and the trolls did to them, and how that influenced Elsa’s actions in the future.

Now, some people have argued that the films and shorts do address the sisters coming to terms with what their parents did to them, because through their parents’ portrayal in OFA and F2 it is implicitly suggested that Elsa and Anna have no ill feelings towards their parents.

But I’ve addressed this before in the past:

“Having ‘no ill feelings’ is the culmination of an emotional journey that we don’t get to see. We get to see the sisters dealing with the emotional ramifications of their childhoods and what it means for themselves, yes. We get to see them reconnect during Frozen Fever. But we don’t get to see them processing feelings for their parents (and the trolls) that must be complicated for them.

And saying that emotional journey is implicit or is addressed subtly because we see that the sisters bear their parents no ill will... I’m sorry, but that just isn’t good enough for me. The sisters bearing their parents no ill will is an endpoint. It’s not the emotional journey itself. We don’t get to SEE that journey addressed directly. We just have to be content with... implication.”

And the fact we just have to be content with implication when Frozen 2 is so much about the sisters’ relationship with their parents and Frozen 2 offers every chance to go beyond implication is... troubling to me.

It’s more than just an oversight on F2′s part. It’s a deliberate choice.

And it weakens the emotional impact of Show Yourself.

Show Yourself is framed as Elsa gaining closure regarding her mother, her trauma, her sense of self. But, regardless of that framing, it... doesn’t exactly give Elsa that closure.

Because Frozen media, outside of Dangerous Secrets, seems bent on glossing over the part Elsa’s and Anna’s parents and the trolls had in the sisters’ traumas in childhood. Because Frozen media doesn’t give the sisters a chance to talk together or reflect together on their parents’ and the trolls’ actions and come to terms with them. Even Dangerous Secrets, which does better in exploring the nuances and complexities of Agnarr and Iduna, can’t do that because the book is telling the parents’ story, not Elsa’s and Anna’s.

So parts of Show Yourself feel like... going through the motions of catharsis with no actual catharsis - because there are still open wounds that Show Yourself doesn’t even try to heal because the film won’t openly admit they exist. Because, as with Let it Go before it, there is still work to be done.

But at least Let it Go let Elsa be frustrated with her parents’ poor choices. At least it allowed Elsa to repudiate the strictures placed upon her:

Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know

There’s more reflection on her parents’ part in her pain in those few lines than in the whole of Frozen 2 - even though much of Frozen 2 is directly about her parents.

I’ve seen people describe the transition from Let it Go to Show Yourself as a transition from reckless defiance to acceptance and peace... but this framing doesn’t work with the film’s portrayal of Elsa’s relationship with Iduna. Because for that framing to work, we’d actually have to see Elsa’s transition towards acceptance of her mother’s actions. We’d actually have to see the emotional process of Elsa making peace with her parents’ choices.

And we don’t.

And that’s tragic because, especially with the backstory Frozen 2 gives Iduna, there’s so much you could have done with Elsa’s relationship with her mother. So many parallels Elsa herself could have made as we see her truly going through the process of healing.

(Also, this last note isn’t related to Let it Go or Show Yourself, but, How does Anna feel about the trolls modifying her memories in childhood? I’m sure it has come up in the intervening years in-universe, but we’ve never seen it addressed... and that speaks to the larger issue I’ve been discussing.)

EDIT: Kristanna and Greatqueenanna have informed me that Anna’s missing memories are the subject of Memory and Magic, the second book in the Sisterhood is the Strongest Magic series - and, while I’m glad of that, I still am a bit bummed that they are relegated to an obscure book that not everyone will read and may be of dubious canonicity at this point instead of being addressed in the feature film that centers on addressing the past and coming to terms with it. While Dangerous Secrets is much more high-profile, I have similar reservations about it as well - because not as many people are going to find it as find Frozen 2. Moreover, Dangerous Secrets is meant to be a supplement to Frozen 2 and it doesn’t focus on Elsa’s and Anna’s emotional journey regarding their parents. I guess Frozen 2 is supposed to be that emotional journey in a way, but because Frozen 2 refuses to touch the childhood separation and Agnarr’s and Iduna’s accountability for it, that leaves a... gap in the text... so that the emotional journey feels incomplete.

#frozen #frozen 2 #elsa #iduna #agnarr

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Ten ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4422

Warnings: Canon-level violence

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Just so you know, I start playing a little fast and loose with ‘elf-lore’ right about here. Thanks so much for all your responses to the previous chapters! Happy reading <3

We retire early, each of us exhausted from our long journey. Elrond arranged rooms for us in his expansive home, which I found out is the heart of the city. I guess when you found a town, it makes sense that you get the largest estate. At Elrond’s instruction, a female attendant leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. She opens a door to my left to revel a large room with a four-poster bed, table, chaise lounge, couch, fireplace, and, through an archway to the side, a full bathroom. Pillows and blankets decorate every available surface and I notice a large selection of books and candles. After two weeks on the road, I want nothing more than to bury myself in this room’s amenities.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to do much more in my state of awe and fatigue.

“Lord Elrond knows about your fear of heights and has placed you in one of the most innermost rooms of the estate. Your windows will offer you views of our waterfalls but you are nowhere near to the edge. I hope it is to your liking.”

I smile, my already present fondness for Elrond growing. Though, I do wonder which of my friends told him about my fear of heights. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

The attendant nods, leading me to a chest of drawers. “You will find clothing here and bathing provisions in the bathroom. Meals are three times a day and you may join the others in the common hall or request to dine in your chambers. If you require my assistance, I am in the room at the very end of the hall and to the right. I hope you sleep well.” She curtsies deeply and I wonder if I should do the same. Just to be on the safe side, I place one leg behind the other and squat, awkwardly attempting to mirror her movement. She puts great effort into suppressing a smile, but inclines her head in acknowledgment of my efforts before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What am I going to do?

This place is dangerous. It’s terrifying. And yes, I feel relatively safe within Elrond’s walls, but he said it himself—just last month, orcs attempted to infiltrate the city. What if they try again, only this time, they succeed? And with some evil being on the rise? Nope, no way. I don’t think I can deal with that.

I throw myself facedown on the large bed, groaning in frustration. This world that I’ve only just accepted to be real is showing me just how real it is. The honeymoon phase is over. The rose-colored glasses have been lifted from my eyes, and what I see paints a dark, fearful scene.

Yet, even still…I cannot ignore the part of me that so badly wants to stay.

The people I’ve met here—humans, elves—does it really matter? Whatever they are, whatever I am at this point, honestly, does it actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter? Because I like them. I care about them. More than anything, I don’t want to leave them, to go back to a world of people I don’t know.

But danger and my friends are a package deal.

And I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that.

I flip around into a seated position, letting my head flop into my hands.

I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. And I’m exhausted. Now, I need to sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.

I haul myself off the feathered mattress and drag my heavy feet to the chest of drawers. As far as sleep items go, I find only nightgowns, but they’ll have to do. It’s much better than sleeping in the muddied clothing I’ve traveled in for two weeks.

I change quickly and blow out the candles I rely on to light my room. I crawl into bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my ears. Before I know it, sleep calms my racing mind.

{***}

I wake in the mountains.

A roar, guttural and angry, comes from behind me and I throw myself into a sprint. I stumble over the uneven terrain, catching my foot on rocks and scraping my shins, but I keep going. Whatever I suffer running away is surely better than being at the mercy of the beast that pursues me.

Brown, gnashing teeth cut me off and I shriek, falling onto my back. An orc with its stinking, rotting breath descends on me, dagger cutting into my arm. I cry out not only in pain but in panic, for the blood that falls to the ground is not red — no, it is thick, dark sludge.

I’m underwater.

The sludge suffocates me. It fills my lungs and burns as it slides over my skin. I kick, desperate to get away.

Below me, a honeyed voice sings. It beckons to me, begs me to come deeper, to let myself sink. It promises safety, security.

It promises peace.

“Cosima.”

Haldir’s voice far above me sounds muffled as it travels through the murky waters. I snap my head up. I can’t see anything, only the darkness, but I know that if I can somehow get to him, if I can follow his voice, then I will reach the surface.

“Cosima!” Rumil shouts for me now.

My name, called in turn by each of my new friends, overlaps, drowning out the sweet sounds from below.

My vision darkens. I have gone too long without breath — I have to make a decision.

I kick my legs, propelling myself upwards.

{***}

I break through the surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

Light—harsh and bright orange—momentarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I recognize the puffy white duvet, the cool grey of the stone walls, the soft pink flowers cascading from the ceiling. I’m in my guest bed in Elrond’s house. I never left my room. I never lost to an attacker in the mountains. I never fell into the water.

It was just a dream.

Water—the roaring sound of the waterfalls—while muted, is still subtly audible in the background. And my dream—it was nearly exactly what I imagined before waking in Arda. The sound from the waterfalls must have triggered it.

Just a dream, I remind myself, trying to calm my racing heart.

A sharp knock disrupts the silence of the room and sends stabs of pain through my head — bad dreams and a headache, too, I guess. The knock sounds again and I groan, forcing myself to leave the coziness of my covers and pad on bare feet to the door.

It’s Haldir. He stands, hand still raised, in fresh clothes and even more armor than yesterday. His bow is slung over his back, a quiver and sword rest at his hips. I try not to let my thoughts get away from me with overreaction — surely this isn’t necessary for inside Elrond’s halls.

He lowers his hand, dipping his head briefly in greeting. “I—” he seems to notice my nightgown. “Did I wake you?”

I shrug and attempt to lean against the doorframe casually, still mildly disturbed from my nightmare. “I don’t think so.” Then, panic causes me to stiffen. “Have you been here long?” Did he hear anything? Oh, I hope not.

He shakes his head and I relax. “No, I only just arrived.” Whew. “I came to get you — Elrond wants to take a look at your arm. I also wanted to let you know, Glorfindel and I are going to visit a couple of the border stations and see if there are improvements to be made. I will be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” I blink. So he’s leaving. “But you only just got here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t you want a few days to relax?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I have been relaxing — I’ve been on leave from my duties for three weeks now.”

I roll my eyes, recalling his constant state of watchfulness on our journey. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call the trip we just had ‘on leave from your duties.’”

He huffs, but the beginnings of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “Would you please get dressed so I can escort you to Elrond? Glorfindel and I wish to leave within the hour.”

I fight the urge to make some snarky comment about his impatience and instead shut the door in his face, hurrying to get ready. My arm does sting — perhaps Elrond can do something about that.

The chest of drawers doesn’t offer much in variety, mostly just a combination of long dresses and a few tunic and legging sets here and there. I’ve been traveling in the same clothes for two weeks though, and a change in habit doesn’t sound too bad, so I opt for a sleeveless pale blue gown with a gossamer cape at the shoulders. I don’t look as ethereal as Lavandil would, but I suppose it will do. Using my fingers, I brush down the frizz in my hair as much as I can—a lost cause, really—and throw on a pair of cream slippers that no one will see anyway because of the gown. After splashing some water over my eyes and brushing my teeth, I throw open the door to find Haldir standing to the side, back to the wall, watching the coming and going of everyone who passes down the hallway. Always on duty. He acknowledges me with a stiff nod and gestures down the hall, falling into step beside me. When we reach the bottom of the staircase, he leads me to the right and through another open-air hallway.

He breaks the silence. “Is your room to your liking?”

I think back to my plush bed, trying to separate it from the dread and fear of my nightmare. “Oh, yes. As much as I liked sleeping under the stars, it’s nice to have a proper bed and all the blankets I could want. And a door.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “That is the true indication of luxury.”

“And yours?”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “It is the height of visitor season here in Imladris, so I am sharing with Rumil. Aside from constantly putting up with my younger brother, it’s perfect.”

I freeze, turning to him. “Wait, you have to share? But you’re the one who’s supposed to be visiting, that’s not right. You or Rumil can have my room, I’ll stay with Alex—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he interjects quickly, jerking his head to indicate that I should continue walking. “I only meant to joke. I do not mind sharing a space with my brother.” Before I can respond, he changes the subject. “How is your arm?”

I raise it, feeling the skin stretch over the cut. “Stings, but it’s healing.”

“Elrond will be able to speed along the process.” He indicates that we should turn left down a new hallway. He leads me through a nondescript archway on our right and we enter a moderately sized semicircular room.

Elrond sits at a mahogany desk near one of the walls, writing furiously on a piece of graying parchment. Upon our entry, he looks up, and the lines of stress on his brow melt into an expression of warm welcome. “Good to see you again, Cosima, Haldir.” He nods to each of us in turn and motions for us to join him at his desk. When we approach, Haldir bows his head respectfully, so I do the same. It’s strange to be in Elrond’s presence. He carries such authority that I feel small in comparison, yet he also leads with such kindness that it is impossible to not want to be around him. Based on all the visitors Haldir mentioned, I surmise that I am not alone in this assessment.

Elrond vacates his chair and gestures for me to sit. He comes to stand at my left and gently takes my arm in his hands. “I am sorry for the injury you suffered during the attack. That must have been quite jarring.”

Haldir rests a hand absently on the hilt of his sword, watching us from the other side of the desk. Likely, he too is remembering the ferocity of the attack — the lives he had to take. It must be hard, even if they were the lives of those trying to kill us.

“It was,” I agree, wincing slightly when Elrond unwraps the bandage encasing my upper arm. “As far as I know, my home doesn’t have anything like that.”

He smiles almost indulgently, crouching to more closely examine the gash. “But you would not remember if it did, no?”

I swallow. I hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks into my eyes then, and I feel so very young. “Every world has its perils. And every world has its joys. You cannot have one without the other—such is the way of life.”

I exhale shakily, turning my eyes to the ceiling. That’s sobering.

Elrond lays his fingers over my torn skin and mutters something in that language I so often hear.

I try to concentrate on the sounds, but can’t make out any specific words. “What is that?”

Since Elrond is still chanting, Haldir answers for him. “An Elvish healing incantation. Combined with the power in Elrond’s spirit, it should close up the wound.”

Tingles race through my upper arm and converge on my cut. I crane my neck, trying to see around Elrond’s hands. A second later, he pulls away. I gasp. All that is left of the cut is a thin, raised scar.

“What,” I murmur, prodding at the skin. Not painful, not even tender. What was just a two-day old wound now seems as if it happened and healed ages ago. “That’s impossible.”

Elrond nearly smirks, straightening to full height. “Open your mind, young one, and you will see that what is impossible to you is commonplace here.”

“I—” but I have nothing to say to that. Though I cannot possibly wrap my head around what just happened, the fact remains that it did. I’m not sure if I’m ready to confront what that means. So I push it away for later. “Thank you.”

Elrond inclines his head. Everyone around here is so dang respectful. “You are welcome.” With a twinkle in his eye, he turns his focus to Haldir. “Do not give my guards too hard a time. I imagine they are wary of your arrival.”

Haldir gestures for me to follow him to the exit. “I only plan on pointing out strategies for improvement. Suggestions, really.”

With a noise that clearly communicates his disbelief in Haldir’s statement, Elrond returns to his desk, smiling softly and shaking his head. “Be safe, Marchwarden. And Cosima?” I stop and turn, one hand on the pillar leading into his study. He gives me a level look and I have the distinct impression that he is acutely aware of the conflict raging within my head. “My door is always open.”

Mutely, I nod, a little stunned by the gravity in his gaze. I must have been staring, because it takes Haldir gently tapping my elbow to remind me to follow him from the room. Once in the hallway, I feel a little more clear-headed. “So was that magic?”

Haldir shrugs, striding down the long corridor. “Humans would think of it that way I suppose. Magic implies something special and ‘more than,’ though, and it’s not like that for elves. It is to be respected, yes, but it is simply the power in our spirits doing the work that calls to them. For Elrond, his spirit urges him to heal, so when he acts on it, he is more powerful than others who aren’t called to healing. I should mention that we say ‘spirit’ for your benefit. Elves use the term ‘fæ’. Simplified, it serves the same purpose as a spirit, but for elves, it plays more of an active role in our lives.”

I mull that over. It sounds reasonable enough. “So then what’s yours? What does your spirit—fæ want you to do?”

“Keep people safe. And if that means fighting, so be it.”

That seems consistent with what I know about him. Every action he takes seems driven by the desire to protect those around him. “What would happen if you ignored it? Say you wanted to be a healer like Baranor or Elrond.”

Haldir chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walks. “I have tried before and I was not near as successful. I can perform the basics of healing—anyone can—but there’s no power within me to speed up the process or heal especially severe injuries like Elrond can. If I tried to attend to your arm in the same way he did, maybe it would have healed slightly faster? But as you saw with Elrond, he is capable of doing it in minutes.”

I begin to catch on. “Okay, so you can all learn whatever skills you want but the power to perform above and beyond at those skills lies in your fæ.”

He nods once. “Exactly.”

We turn a corner. “But what if you wanted to be a healer but you were born with the fæ of a fighter? Could you change it?”

Haldir takes a deep breath, his steps slowing slightly. I realize we are nearing the staircase that will take me to my room. “Short answer—no. An elf’s fæ is incredibly personal and incredibly fragile. Really, only two things can change an elf’s fæ: marriage and death. Long answer—you can ignore the desires of your fæ and nothing bad will happen to you so, technically, if I wanted, I could shun the need to keep my people safe and heal them instead. But I wouldn’t be any better at it than anyone else and I would feel unfulfilled because I wouldn’t be giving my fæ what it needs. Does that make sense?”

I nod, but something he glossed over jumps out at me. He said marriage can change an elf’s fæ, but from what I know, marriage isn’t always forever. People can separate, people can die, people can cheat. What then? “Marriage and death change a fæ how?”

A faraway look comes into his eye. “The two are basically interconnected. When elves get married, their fæs bond together in a way that cannot be undone. When it is—through death—the half of the fæ belonging to the dead elf essentially wilts and leaves the remaining fæ damaged.”

That sounds awful. “But what about divorce? Is that kinder to a fæ?”

Haldir smiles ruefully. “Divorce is something unique to humans. Elves live forever and we love only once. When we do decide to love another, the two fæs are literally entwined forever. So divorce is a physical possibility — the two can be separated, yes. But it would cause their fæs so much grief that it almost never happens. Spiritually though, the two are entwined until death, some argue even beyond then.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, if one dies and the fæ is damaged…”

“The other fades. It is not just a physical death, but a spiritual one. They lose the will to live and eventually pass into nothing.”

I look at the ground. Haldir carries a pain in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s seen this happen before. With over three thousand years behind him, it’s likely that he has.

I attempt to veer to a safer subject. He said elves only love once and, as far as I know, Haldir isn’t married. I try to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “So you’ve never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, jerking his chin in my direction. “Have you?”

I shrug, climbing the staircase. “I wouldn’t remember.”

“I think you would.” We’re at the top now and I turn to see him looking not at me, but out one of the gaping archways showcasing the falls.

I let out a slow breath, thinking on his words. Would I, though? I mean, what if I’m here gallivanting with my new friends and I have someone at home mourning my loss, missing me? Do I owe it to him to make it back?

Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I take small, hesitant steps towards the archway, bringing me closer and closer to the fortified stone railing. I don’t look down—that would be too much—but I do rest my hands lightly against the wood, staring straight ahead at the curtain of frothy white and blue. Guilt as well as fear from being so close to the edge churn in my stomach. Am I a bad person for not remembering my love? Do I even have one?

I let out a shuddering breath, knowing I need something — reassurance or condemnation, I don’t know. I choose to give voice to my fears and trust Haldir to decide.

When I speak, my voice is not as solid as I would like, sounding instead shaky and fragile. “But what if I didn’t?” I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “What if there’s someone in my world waiting for me and I can’t remember him?”

The sounds of boots clicking against stone echoes. A few seconds later, Haldir appears next to me, resting his hands on the railing, mirroring my viewing of the waterfall.

“An elf’s fæ gives them a measure of awareness. If you are really attuned to someone—love them, have a strong bond with them—your fæs will have a consciousness of each other, almost like they’re in communication. For example, I can see Rumil’s light and I know that he is content. I can feel Orophin’s joy practically bursting and I know how happy it makes him to be here with his love. And, while a human’s fæ isn’t as strong as an elf’s, you do have one. If I concentrate, I can see it. It’s faint, but it is there. All this to say,” he shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze to me. “If you had a love back home, your fæ would know.”

I slump in relief, leaning against the railing and closing my eyes so I cannot further frighten myself. If I had someone that I was bonded to, I would remember him — more than that, I would feel it in my soul. So, staying here…if it weren’t so dangerous…maybe it wouldn’t be bad.

“Haldir, Lady Cosima.” A confident voice at the end of the hall catches our attention.

Glorfindel, golden and gorgeous as ever, strides up to us, bowing deeply. He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to its back, then straightens and winks—at me or Haldir, I can’t tell. “A human custom I thought I’d try. Not my cup of tea, but I do say I’ll try anything once.”

I bark out a shocked laugh, having not expected Glorfindel’s bold entrance. “Am I one of your experiments, then?”

“If you’d like to be.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively, though, if what Haldir just explained to me is true for all elves, Glorfindel is only playing around.

Haldir rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

With a flair, Glorfindel gestures to his armored form. “So it seems. Is the Lady going to accompany us?”

I huff, not liking being cut out of the conversation. “No, ‘the Lady’ hopes to stay here and find breakfast.”

“Ah, it is on the path to the stables! Allow us to show you the way.” With that, Glorfindel strides down the hallway as quickly as he arrived.

Haldir shakes his head—whether in amusement or annoyance, I don’t know—but follows.

The three of us wind up in a large outdoor pavilion sheltered only by a wooden lattice rooftop woven with blue and white flowers. This must be the common dining hall Elrond mentioned last night. It’s relatively late in the morning but too early for the midday meal, so the pavilion is empty. I’m grateful—I’m not sure I could handle meeting a whole city’s worth of elves before I’ve gotten some food in me.

The use of the word causes a brief spark of shock to jolt through my chest. I just referred to them as ‘elves’.

But I cannot deny it any longer—somehow, it clicked. I am in a different world, and the people of this world are not all human. My friends are elves.

This decision to believe—though it is only one of many I must make—releases a weight from my chest. I suddenly feel much lighter, nearly giddy with freedom. I push forward and turn around to face the two ellyn who led me here, nodding with a measure of finality.

“You are elves.”

Glorfindel looks perplexed, but Haldir, for the first time since I’ve met him, looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his lips part from each other. I grin, very much enjoying the feeling of catching him off guard. He narrows his eyes slightly, seeming to inspect me for signs of teasing or a joke. I smile up at him, confident in my decision.

Glorfindel looks back and forth between what probably looks like an impromptu staring contest. “Yes…it must be time for you to eat. How often do humans need to eat, anyways?” He chatters on, leading us through the pavilion and into an auxiliary room — the kitchens. “I’ve heard horror stories of new humans needing to eat upwards of six times per day. How do its caretakers get anything done?”

As Glorfindel darts through the kitchen collecting what I assume to be leftovers and provisions for the trip, Haldir comes up beside me, looking almost unsure.

“You have accepted it, then?”

I nod, exhaling quickly. “I have. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Somehow I lived in my world and now I live in yours. And, though there’s no way for me to wrap my head around it, my new friends are elves.”

He smiles softly, hesitantly, and dips his head in acknowledgment of my statement. “I am glad.”

But, despite my momentary feeling of freedom, unease settles in my gut. Many more decisions lie ahead.

A/n Ooo so what do you think??? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Also, if you’re bored, pop into my ask box and tell me something that makes you happy -- I’d love to know!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

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cruelfeline · 4 years

Text

That earlier post got me thinking about the difference between Horde Prime’s anger, and Hordak’s. Namely in terms of where it comes from and what its purpose is. Because my word, but there is a discrepancy, and it’s the sort of thing that I feel sheds quite a bit of light on how differently the two of them see the world.

When we meet Horde Prime, he is the picture of calm and collected, the classic affably evil villain who appears entirely in control of everything. And for a good portion of his time in the story, he is. He controls what we understand to be a vast empire. He controls the physical, mental, and emotional lives of countless clones who worship him entirely. He is totally in command of everything he interacts with.

So when we see his first angry outburst, it is less an “outburst” and more a targeted weapon. Horde Prime turns his vicious ire onto a trembling, pleading Hordak specifically to frighten him. To dominate him. To terrorize and punish him for the moral crime of taking a name and exerting his will. There is no loss of control here; once Hordak is dealt with, Prime calmly returns to his default cool, collected state. He is entirely the master of this situation, and when he exhibits anger, it is specifically to harm someone over whom he has power.

An important aspect of this, one that differs from what we see in Hordak and adds a significant level of cruelty to Prime, is that he is so legitimately mighty that this sort of fear-based punishment has nothing to do with self defense or personal safety. It truly appears geared towards inflicting suffering on others for his own glorification. Essentially: when he turns his anger on Hordak, it is not because Hordak poses any sort of actual threat that needs to be fought off. It is purely to hurt him in a way that strokes Prime’s ego.

This use of anger, of violence, to hurt and punish others seems to be the chief purpose Prime has for the emotion. Granted, as the show continues and he loses his dominant position due to our heroes’ efforts, his expressions of anger fall more in line with frustrated outbursts, but to my mind, this is the exception rather than the norm for him. After all, he has been dominant for so, so long. And because he has been comfortably in charge, he has had little to be frustrated about. Thus, Prime’s anger is largely a weapon of manipulation and enforced fear, rather than a reaction to a lack of control until the very latter portion of the series.

Now: Hordak.

Hordak is very different. Hordak, given the deeply unfortunate circumstances he faces, has had everything to be frustrated about: his illness, his failed projects, his precarious leadership position. And because of these things, particularly said precarious leadership position, he does not enjoy the easy dominance that Prime enjoys. Every moment Hordak spends in command of the Etherian Horde is one during which he has to hide his defect and maintain the facade of all-powerful ruler. It is a stressful thing that threatens to fall apart the moment his ruse falters, not only shaming him but putting him in potentially great physical danger.

which... y’know... happens in season four via Catra; so not a false worry

Because of this, Hordak exhibits anger far more constantly than Prime; he is almost perpetually grumpy, ready to snarl at a moment’s notice since his reasons for anger are ever-present. Furthermore, he uses said anger less as a tool to hurt people for his own personal pleasure and more as a negative coping mechanism combined with a method of personal defense.

The negative coping mechanism is probably what we see most often: whenever things don’t go Hordak’s way, he lashes out. The most common casualty of this is a piece of property (RIP lil’ green wrench) rather than an actual person, strongly marking this form of anger as one used to vent frustration rather than to influence others in any way. Hordak, along with his brothers, functions under a doctrine of minimizing emotional expression. As a result, his ability to cope with negative experiences via a healthy expression of the resulting emotions is heavily stunted, leading to the outbursts we see. It’s not a positive aspect of his character by any means, but it is an understandable one: he never learned how to manage failure and disappointment in a constructive way, so he suppresses the related emotions until they come to a head and manifest in violent anger.

This is akin to what Prime exhibits in the late stages of his life, but because Hordak constantly experiences such vexing frustration, he expresses this sort of anger far more consistently than Prime does, to the point that I would hazard to say that it is his norm.

Now, looking at Hordak expressing anger and using violence targeting other people, we again can see that he differs from Prime. Prime, as stated before, has all of the power and thus no real need for this sort of violence-based maintenance of control and self-defense. When he wields his anger, it is to cause hurt. Hordak? Hordak has that fragile leadership standing alongside a frightening lack of personal agency, and so he does use his anger to attempt to maintain both. He wields it both to protect himself from people and to regain control when he loses it. Various instances come to mind (besides him trying to drive Entrapta out of his sanctum via Yelling (c)).

One involves Adora in the moments leading up to the portal activation at the end of season three. When Adora threatens to thwart Hordak’s plans and utters that awful word, “fail,” he reacts. He reacts to two things: the concept of Adora has a dangerous enemy, and the loss of control over his own life via the threat of failure. When he turns his anger on her (and later displaces it onto Entrapta when said anger causes his armor to glitch) it is to combat these two adversarial things in order to maintain his own safety and stability. Hurting Adora as some sort of twisted moral punishment is not the intent here; protecting himself, from both physical and emotional threats, is.

Another instance involves throwing machinery and yelling at Catra after the portal incident, once she mentions Entrapta. This marks another moment of Hordak combating the sense of losing control. He experiences emotional pain due to Entrapta’s mention, likely suffering feelings of loss and shame and abandonment, and in order to regain control over the situation, to feel less vulnerable, he directs his anger at the source of discomfort: Catra.

In a similar instance, he throws a chip at Imp when the little spy teases him with Entrapta’s name, again seeking to defend himself against the unpleasant feelings her memory brings.

When Shadow Weaver and the Princesses invade his Sanctum, he loses composure and turns furious, throwing a column at them in an attempt to defend himself and his most private quarters.

He does the same once he learns of Catra’s lies, erupting into a true rage once she further prods at his insecurities by asserting that Prime will not want him due to his being a defective mistake.

Over and over, Hordak uses his anger to both protect himself from potentially dangerous people and to attempt to regain control over situations he feels are slipping from his grasp. Often when facing increased personal vulnerability. All of these moments show this very different set of reasons for expressing this potentially violent emotion compared to Prime.

It’s an interesting contrast, isn’t it? And one that serves to highlight the very different lives these two characters lead: one a cruel cult leader who has almost unfathomable power over his worshipers, the other a traumatized man trying to obtain power and security and stability in a life where he has nearly none. And their anger provides an intriguing lens through which to assess this contrast.

#hordak #catra #entrapta #entrapdak #horde prime #adora

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austarus · 4 years

Text

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Integrated Revelations (1/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.

*I attempted a thing where I try to get back into the groove of writing for my murder speed husband... It’s probably shit, but here goes nothing. Sorta another theory I’ve had and had all these scenes connect together. I’m a shit writer so... Also, I’m dying and crying. Hahaha. I literally am dying. My uni work online is being ridiculously overwhelming along with my work hours for school. I really need a week with no deadlines or work just to get caught up with three weeks of work for certain classes. I really need to take a break. But I can’t, started to loose sleep. Can’t even have time to write or play Pokemon Reborn. Anyway, that a bit of an update from me. I wrote this back in July, hoping to have written a fic a week (which turned out to not happen, but hey, I tried) until October to post things. Also this most likely has grammer errors. I’m sorry. Once again, a shit writer. Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count: 3584

Part 2 Part 3

“Well...” Eobard’s raspy voice didn’t seem to alarm the two speedsters that had phased into the Time Vault. The futuristic speedster had sat with a leg crossed over the other, and elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “Things just got a lot more complicated, didn't they?” Eobard pushed from the chair, standing up and taking a few steps forward. Nora and Barry looked on, one adorned a look of uncertainty and the other masqueraded his rage and pain through the years. “Barry Allen.” Barry nodded along, gauging the black-haired man’s façade. “But which Barry Allen? Clearly, you're… from a lot later than this one.” Eobard maneuvered his body and pointed to the unconscious form of an earlier Barry Allen.

“Way later.” Barry simply answered, looking indifferent.

“Way later,” Eobard echoed the response, putting emphasis on the word ‘way’. The scientist nodded along, pursuing his lips as his electric blue eyes flickered to Nora. Before anyone could speak, could even move the Time Vault door dematerialized. Nora watched as an earlier version of yourself entered the Vault hurriedly and out of breath. You had entered looking over your shoulder with a tablet in hand. You had been scanning for the supposed Time Wraith that had attacked Barry, but not your present time Barry.

“Eo, I traced-” You froze in place as you turned your gaze forward. Fear crippled your heart as you saw a version of Barry, much older through the years, and a woman not too far off his from his age. You swallowed thickly, clutching the tablet tighter. There’s three Barry Allen’s now?? Who the hell decided to break time? A small throbbing sensation erupted at the back of your head, but you dismissed it. Eobard had swiftly moved to stand in front of you. His eyes connected with yours for a moment.

“You knew?!” The young woman spoke up, stepping forward towards you which caused Eobard to hold out a subtle arm out to the side to keep you behind him. “All those years.” The older man narrowed his eyes at what the female had called out to you. You frowned at her words in confusion. Who is she? An image flashed through your mind of the woman, smiling proudly at Barry while wearing a dark purple and white suit with a yellow emblem. She clearly knows who I am, but… What even happened? Are they from a different future? You pushed away the image to the back of your mind. “How could y-”

“If you even think about touching her, either of you, then you’ll regret ever running back here,” Eobard steely replied. You took a step closer to your speedster boyfriend in case something were to happen and he needed to speed you away to safety. Not that you needed saving, but you were still working on defending yourself via your lessons with the futuristic speedster. So, they’re from the future, and I’m guessing far off from this other Barry, but not too far for him to age too much. You spared a small glance to the cuffed and unconscious Barry Allen on the ground. It hurt your heart to see him vulnerable like that, but Eobard had confided to you his suspicions regarding this Barry Allen. One Barry Allen problem at a time. Taking a breath in, you remained silent and studied the two speedsters that confronted your speedster.

“Let it go.” Barry grabbed onto the speedster’s shoulder, holding her back. Oddly enough, Barry’s words coldly cut through you.

“Now,” Eobard’s cocky attitude returned to him as he established the safety of your presence. He had that kind of affect, putting himself on the air of superiority and intellect with his attitude and words to belittle the person in front of him rightly so to get the desired reaction he wants and anticipates. Eobard knows how to tug on Barry’s strings. “Who's your friend? Let me guess. Jesse Chambers- No. Maybe Lawrence. Wait- Danica Williams-”

“-It doesn't matter who she is.” Barry cut off Eobard’s rattling of names.

You eyed Eobard’s deceptive small smile as he held Barry’s gaze then turned to the young adult. The female remained silent, avoiding Eobard’s icy eyes. “She's your daughter.” You scrunched your face in confusion before the neurons clicked in your head after a few seconds. Lemme guess, she’s a speedster that ran back in time and met a younger version of her father. Weird flex bro, but whatever. You do you. If I was a speedster, I’d do things differently. Obviously not up to scale what with the tampering that Eobard likes to do with the timeline to get his way with things. “You've brought me your daughter.” Your eyes flickered back to Barry before taking another look at the female and seeing a bit of resemblance, other than the fact that she was a speedster like him. Then the article Eo’s been obsessing about did reveal something true. Barry does take Iris as his wife. The West-Allen family. “It's, um... Dawn, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Nora.” The young speedster forced out after briefly glancing at her father.

“Nora. Oh, that's nice.” Eobard turned back to Barry with a smirk, “At least you still have one.” That’s cruel, Eo. “What- Nora- time travel's so weird-”

“Why did you come here?” You found the nerve to speak up, moving to stand beside the man masquerading as Harrison Wells. I’m not going to be afraid; I can’t always cower behind Eobard if something unexpected happens. I need to take things in my own hands. Even if they do find out about- You cleared any evidence of distress at their sudden appearance from your throat, “What do you want?”

“I need him to fix this for me.” Barry held up a broken tube-like device in his hand.

A thought hit the genius scientist instantaneously, his blue eyes widening. Turning your body, you saw Eobard take a few steps backwards, “No...” The headache didn’t go away, instead intensifying slightly by the second. Negative emotions flooded your system at Eobard’s crippling composure. He shook his head at them. “No, if you're here...” Eo turned to face the unconscious Barry, cuffed to his motored wheelchair, pointing to them and him. “And he's here... that means-”

“-You don't get home.” Barry simply stated. Your heart shook, terror and dread feeding into your system at his words. Uncertainty of the future- your future with Eobard- plagued you. How does this all end?

“I get home!” The yellow speedster whipped his head around in agitation, his voice raising with every statement. Barry smirked cruelly as he shook his head. You held your breath at Eobard’s spiking wrath, you hadn’t seen him this angry since General Eiling’s interference with The Flash and Plastique. Even then he’d mask his resentment to pull the strings in the game strategically. “I get home. I go home! I get everything-”

“-You don't go home, Thawne.” The Scarlet Speedster halted the Man in the Yellow Suit. Eobard clenched his jaw. You reached out a hand to rest it on his arm in an attempt to calm him. His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second. You felt the tension hang heavily in the air. “Unless… you help me.” Barry held up his broken device once more, mockingly this time. Your eyes flickered to the ring on his right hand. Similar to Eobard’s. A future version of Cisco must have been able to figure out how to use microtech to compress Barry’s suit. He’s the greatest mechanical engineer that I know. Eobard’s shoulders sagged a fraction as Barry held his ground. Turning around, the genius scientist rubbed his face before kicking the spare Barry in annoyance. Barry, all clad in black, winced because he probably ended up feeling that kick. You and Nora remained silent, eyeing the exchange between both speedsters.

Eobard shifted his body back, hands on his hips and fueled hatred present in his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Like I said, you're gonna fix this for me.”

“To do what?”

“Drain dark matter.”

What could Barry possibly need with Dark Matter? Hasn’t it done enough damage? “Whose dark matter?” You crossed your arms with the tablet close to your chest, a frown on your face as Eobard stepped beside you once more.

“None of your business.” Barry sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes at his demeanor, the young man who you gradually grew close to and considered as another brother like Cisco.

“Barry-”

“-It is our business.” Eobard retorted, taking your hand in his tightly. Both men were frustrated at the others persistence.

“No, it's not.”

Eobard started, letting go of you and rounding heatedly on to Barry, “There's no chance that I help you-”

You reached a hand out. “-Eobard, don’t-”

- It's none of your business-”

“-Cicada's!” Nora blurted out. Silence filled the room between the four of your, outbursts settling. You blinked a few times, taking a step back and resting a palm against your temple. Grimacing, you cast your eyes down as images of a half-masked man in green stood with a dagger. A glowing dagger with a look of emptiness and death in his eyes. That man looks dead to the world, as if willing to kill for an estranged purpose. It’s so cold. You shook your head subtly and stood your ground, unwilling to show weakness, but you saw Nora’s eyes shift when she looked at you. Barry eyed his daughter with a sort of incredulous look while a calculating and analytical look flashed through Eobard’s eyes.

“Cicada's.” The name seemed so familiar to Eobard as it easily slipped of his tongue. The hushed tone in Eobard’s voice expressed a calm before the storm. A deceptive man full of secrets and knowledge of many, many years to come. Especially when it came to The Flash. “The one who got away. You want to destroy Cicada's dagger, don't you?”

“We want to save lives.”

A cynical laugh leaves your speedster’s lips as you pursed yours, trying to tease out the logics from Barry. “You want to save lives.” Eobard chuckled mockingly at Barry’s response. “I bet you do. I bet you do. Especially your own, right, Barry Allen?”

“Look, that me,” Barry pointed to the other version of himself in the room, “he's gonna wake up soon. He sees me standing here, your whole timeline is gonna be blown to hell. You're never gonna get home. You know that's true!”

“I know! I know!” Eobard sighed, his facial expression contorted, and his eyes held a different motive as he flicked his gaze to Nora, who hadn’t stop taking glimpses of you. “Where are my manners? Can I get you a cup of water?” You rolled your eyes at Eobard’s ploy.

***

The four of you had moved to the small lab, far from the Cortex in avoidance of Caitlin and Cisco. The timeline was a fickle thing to speedsters, Eobard had told you that. But oddly enough, when it came to Eobard it seemed to be malleable to his every whim. Tools and spare wires littered along the desk your speedster boyfriend was working at. The monitor held a camera feed of the Time Vault where Barry’s unconscious younger version was still unconscious.

How hard did Eobard hit him? Like, how the hell is he still asleep even through all that yelling and seething??

“Here,” you handed Nora a bottle of purified water.

“Thanks,” she quietly spoke, you nodded at her. You really didn’t know what to think about someone who knew you in the future, yet you had no idea who she would be until a few years later. Would I even still be in this time period by then? Or would Eobard had kept his promise? … Nothing’s making any sense right now. You felt frustrated for not really being part of their conversations. You were… just there.

“So, who made this?” Eobard examined the piece of teach as he started working on it.

Barry answered with pocketed hands, “Someone smarter than you.”

“I doubt that,” You snorted as Eobard laughed at Barry’s statement. Leaning against the dark blue beam of the side lab, you crossed your arms avoiding Barry’s gaze when he glanced over to you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “If so, then why come here? Why go through all the trouble to come here when you can get help from the person who made it? Why then would you need Eobard’s help?”

“We-”

“It’s… complicated,” Barry sighed before Nora could finish saying anything, pocketing his hands.

“I think that’s an understatement to the type of trouble that seems to find you, Barr.” You crossed your arms. “At least a Time Wraith didn’t follow you this time. Which I’m still having trouble tracking down.” You nodded to his former self on the monitor. Barry rolled his eyes at you.

“You know, Allen,” the yellow speedster wheeled around, electric blue eyes meeting Barry’s green gaze, “for your plan to work, you're gonna actually have to have his dagger in your possession...”

“We've got that covered.”

The villainous speedster raised an eyebrow at the forensics scientists. “You got that covered. How’s that?” He humored them.

“With this.” Nora pulled out a dark piece of metal, holding it out for you and Eobard to observe momentarily.

“What is that?” You piqued up, causing Nora to look over at you. An odd emotion flickered in her eyes. Eobard reached a hand out to it only for Barry to pluck it from Nora’s grasp. Your eyes flickered between the two then back to Nora. She didn’t seem to be cautious around you and Eobard at all. Revealing the reason for aid and showing Eobard exactly what he seemed to want to see. You weren’t a genius, but you obviously saw the pointed looks that Barry subtly gave his daughter. The cogs were turning in your head as well as in Eobard’s. He masked his growing speculation about the two speedsters.

“Is that-”

“It's a piece of Savitar's suit, yeah.” Barry stoically responded, since Nora had already shown Eobard the metallic piece, to Eobard’s oncoming question before he could even finish. Barry knew Eobard recognized the object, shaking his head that that cat was out of the bag for this secret too.

“Savitar?”

“Savitar. The Future Flash and the self-proclaimed God of Speed, kitten,” Eobard simply explained as he worked. Images of a metallic suit flashed through your mind as it hummed with energy; a familiar face shrouded in shadows and a hauntingly course voice. “A twisted time remnant of the man you know to be your friend. Another big bad that Barry’s had to face in the future, primarily due to the mistakes of his growing unhappiness. Isn’t that right, Flash? The pain you’ve caused the people around you just for you selfish wishes.” Barry rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“Eobard, play nice,” you scolded the older man, “they’re still guests here after all.”

“Hmph. You know what's funny about your dad, Nora,” the futuristic genius caught her attention, “is he hates me. Hates me with a passion, and yet a version of him, this Savitar, is a much bigger jerk than I ever was. Did you see the face?” Eobard gestured to his own face, primarily to one side of his face while snickering “Did you- did you see the, like, pizza face-” Nora awkwardly stepped from foot to foot, looking away.

“-Pizza face?-” Eobard Tiberius Thawne you owe me so many fucking answers when we get home because these images aren’t making as much sense as they should.

“-Can you hurry up?-”

“-Yeah, I'll hurry up.” Eobard smugly nonchalantly threw the tiny screwdriver onto the desk. He picked up a different on. “I gotta tell you, Allen, using Savitar's suit, it's a smart idea.”

Barry tilted his head to his daughter. “It was hers.”

Eobard gave her a hard look. His eyes flickered towards you then turned around. “Clever girl.” You picked up an odd indication in his tone. The speedster narrowed his eyes at the tech as he ignited it, illuminating in his hands to signal its functioning aspect. On the monitor, the four of you noticed that the other Barry was coming to consciousness. Eobard inhaled silently. “Oops.” Eobard swiveled his body around to hand them the piece of tech. “Gotta go.” Barry narrowed his eyes, quiet hatred behind them as he took the tech from his nemesis. “I still look forward to seeing how this all pans out. Nora. Kitten, make sure they see their way out,” Eo glanced at you one last time before speeding away in a torrent of red-lightning to the Time Vault. The three of you watched as the villainous speedster reclaimed his rightful place, crossing his legs once more. An analytical look across his features.

You spoke before the two speedsters sped away in a torrent of lightning. “Cicada’s the one with the lightning-shaped dagger, the one that glows ominously? Heartless eyes? Breathing problems?”

“Yeah? How did you…?” Nora trailed off. Barry figured that your powers were still manifesting themselves and it seems that their run back in time has triggered sporadic post-cognitive images to be revealed through certain key words.

“It doesn’t matter how-,”

“Your powers are still developing,” Barry interjected, pocketing the tech safely. “It seems that our visit has amplified what you can do. Let’s just what it doesn’t shift anything else”

He knows about my powers… Right, time travel. “Just be safe. I-I don’t know too much and I’m not sure what the future holds, but whatever trouble you two have run into just be cautious. Not for me, but for the ones you love. The past will always have some sort of domino effect to the future. I may not be able to time travel, but Eobard has taught me a thing or two about it.” You stopped, looking off to the side while rubbing your arm. “Barry?”

“Hmm?”

“Just answer me this one thing.”

“… It depends.”

“I know, timeline and speedster stuff. But…” You took a breath in, “Is he safe?” The speedster avoided your eyes. You swallowed thickly, moving your gaze to Nora. “Does he live?” She opened her mouth a fraction, moved by the desperation evident in your eyes

“I can’t answer that.” Barry whispered without hesitation, an alien emotion behind those eyes, replacing the kindness and warmth the Barry you knew had. It was bitter. “Nora, it’s time to go back to the night it all began.” Barry flashed away to the pipeline. Nora remained.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, your body felt numb at the absence of answers. You turned back to the monitor, running both hands through your hair before picking up a spare tool and frustratingly throwing it at the wall. Picking up the tablet once more, you ran some algorithms and diagnostics privately on your powers as you made you way to the Time Vault.

Eobard’s head perked up in question at your entrance. He remained seated catching your troubled look. You only whispered, “We need to talk after this is over,” before leaning against the wall and tapping at the screen of your tablet. He hadn’t missed the embittered look in your eyes, the prominent frown on your face. A peculiar emotion hidden behind those lovely eyes of yours when the speedster had been so accustomed to seeing lights and twinkling of stars within your irises.

Eobard rubbed his wrist as he attained messy hair due to Barry and Nora’s revelations. You speculated he had been running his hands through it in thought as he tried to decipher the truth and what his next plan of action would be. King vs King. Eobard and Barry. It was a dangerous game and it’s clear that Team Flash are Barry’s pieces to move while Iris was by his side. From the future’s perspective. But you… at this point, you hazard a thought of what Eobard saw of you as. Queen… or Pawn. Pursing your lips, you shoved those thoughts away as your mind reminded you of all you and he had gone through since he had revealed himself and his truth to you. But right now, you were feeling so conflicted and insecure at how everything would play out. He promised to take me home with him… That we could start a life together. I don’t want to be used up and thrown away again. I’m tired of being broken and alienated.

The restrained Barry shifted once more in abrupt confusion as he found himself slumped against the cool metal of Eobard’s motorized wheelchair. A prop to his act. His mind felt foggy and arms felt heavy, particularly his right hand. You stopped tapping and eyed him indifferently because you really had no idea how to feel, but you realized you need to be cautious with how you act and what you say until you and Eobard clear things up from earlier events.

Barry’s eyes darted rapidly to the seated, smirking speedster in front of him then to you then to the metacuffs before lingering back to Harrison. The Scarlet Speedster assessed the guarded expression on your face. You saw this Barry feign confusion, eyebrows raised as he eyed the metacuffs and Dr. Wells. You cracked your neck as Eobard did a little hand-wave gesture to Barry. The young speedster looked baffled, probably at getting caught, as he opened and closed his mouth.

“Now, who are you?”

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autistic-singer515 · 3 years

Text

Here’s my fan art sketch of the scene I want in the Animaniacs reboot season 2. That’s right when Julia has a nasty side effect from the obedience chip, she turns into a giant mouse monster out of anger. It causes her to go out of control. As Julia was about to try to kill Brain, Pinky pushed him to safety and takes the hit instead. Julia tries to control herself as she saw Pinky unconscious. She looked at the blood on her big claws. That unpleasant sight frightened her. She shook her big hands in fear and sadness. She frightfully looked at Pinky and her bloody claws back and forth. She felt sick to her stomach upon the realization of her actions. Now she hated the idea of killing, even the Brain.

What has she become?

“Oh no....” Julia thought sadly. “ What have I done to him? I’m a monster! A terrible monster!”

Due to her anger and confusion and the electrical shocks, Julia’s monsterous instincts were taking over her mind. She plans to get revenge on the Brain and everyone else in the world for neglecting her.

“But why would Pinky sacrifice himself to save a tyrant?” Julia thought angrily. “The world likes to play a little cruel game with me! Then nobody loves me or understands me! Everyone in the world is evil! Including me! I might as well destroy everything and myself, starting with you, Brain! You made me like this and you will pay!”

As the Brain witnessed Pinky’s unconscious body, his anger towards Julia rose up. He swore revenge against her. He knew she had to be stopped and to be turned back into a normal unintelligent mouse. But after he tried to stop Julia once and for all, she already grabbed him in an attempt to squeeze him to death. The Brain tried to bite Julia’s hand to try to get her to let go. But Julia’s muscles were too strong and numb to feel pain. But then the Brain saw Julia struggling with her mind and her electrical shocks from the defective obedience chip on her left ear. She was trying to calm down after she saw what she did to Pinky. She’s trying to keep her love and compassion within her. But the obedience chip was making it too difficult for her to do so. Her sanity was slipping away from her. She was downright scared of losing herself and killing everyone uncontrollably.

The Brain’s eyes widened to the realization and felt sick to his stomach with the squeezing making it worse. It felt too familiar to him. He remembered getting abused with the electric cheese platter from those mean scientists. He remembered how much it angered him to no end that he plotted world domination. It conditioned him into not showing affection towards Pinky or other people. Just so he wouldn’t feel weak and helpless if he gets rejected by them after showing them love.

No wonder Julia was plotting revenge against him just so she could make the world a better place for everyone. Just so she could become a hero with good intentions. It was all because the Brain pulled a familiar stunt as the scientists did. Now the Brain knew how it felt for Julia to be abused like this. He made her like this and it was all his fault.

For years the Brain tried and tried to remain calm about not succeeding in taking over the world. But after years of repressing his true feelings for Pinky, his behaviour gradually had gotten worse and worse. The more the Brain looked deep within himself, the more he felt like a different mouse all together. He remembered his other recent actions, including attempted kidnapping of people and attempted child labour. They were the things his former arch enemy Snowball would’ve done.

He knew that deep down inside, he never wanted to do those horrible things, but the world was recently becoming a lot more stupid, violent, crazy, frustrating and difficult for him that he was too angry to hold back. He felt like he had to do his job for world peace and for good reasons even though his actions were a lot harsher than normal. He was hurt before. He didn’t want to be the helpless little mouse anymore. Because of this, the Brain tried his hardest to ignore his love for Pinky. But now that got his funny friend seriously hurt. The Brain ignored Julia’s empathy and then he ruined her mentally. The Brain’s heart stings just thinking about those horrible memories.

The Brain knew he started this whole mess. He wasn’t sure he would survive his own squeezing situation himself. But he hoped that at least Pinky would wake up even if he’s gone. Maybe he could stop Julia from rampaging.

If only the Brain was as kind as Pinky.

Julia’s insults towards the Brain played repeatedly in his throbbing mind that it was almost unbearable for him to handle. He gritted his teeth and sweated with anxiety.

“You monster!”

“All this time I’ve been manipulated by a tyrant!”

“Tyrant!”

“Monster!”

“Tyrant!”

“Monster!”

“Tyrant!”

“Monster!”

“Julia was right about everything about me..... What have I become?....” thought the Brain, feeling the guilt and fear overcoming him. “I thought I could make the world a better place.... But I messed it up real bad.... I’ve made too much irrational decisions.... I’m not as intelligent as I thought.... I’m no better than the scientists and Snowball who abused me long ago.... And now Julia is getting worse because of me!....”

How the Brain wished Pinky would wake up right now to help him get out of his bad situation. Just like they always did for each other. But Pinky still didn’t seem to wake up.

What would Pinky do if he was in the Brain’s situation?

Ask Julia stupid questions about eating yourself and then disappearing after that? No! Definitely not! That’s ridiculous! That won’t work for her like it did for his demonic robot son, B.R.A.I.N! She would already know the answer.

Then the Brain remembered the time Pinky constantly apologized to him when he was a green mouse monster. It always reverted him back to his normal mouse size until the serum wore out of his system. As the Brain continued watching Julia struggling with her mind, he thought that if it weren’t for Pinky, he could’ve been like Julia. An out of control monster.

The Brain remembered what Julia once said, “ I think it’s time I stopped speaking from the brain and start speaking from the heart.”

The Brain finally realized that he should’ve listen to Pinky’s advice in the first place, that is helping Julia before she destroys everything, including herself. He finally realized that he was the one who should apologize to Julia, not Pinky. Maybe if the Brain could apologize to Julia, maybe he could try to calm her down. He may not be Pinky, but he knew that the least he could do right now was just try.

“Just be yourself, Brain.” thought the Brain. “But be kinder.”

So the Brain apologizes to Julia.

The Brain: “I don’t know if you can hear me say this.... But.... I’m sorry.... Julia.... I made you a monster and Pinky is badly injured because of me.... What have I done?..... How could I’ve been so cruel to you?.... Deep down inside me, I really feel awful for forcing you into being my First Lady... But I was too proud to admit it.... I know what it feels like to be helpless, Julia....”

But it seems that Julia wasn’t buying the Brain’s apology. She squeezed the Brain too tight that his lungs were about to burst. The Brain groaned and sweated. It was starting to get difficult for him to breathe.

“Liar!!” yelled monster Julia. “You’re lying! You’re heartless! You’ll always be heartless! Just like everyone else in this world!”

The Brain said “believe me, Julia. I was once like you. Lonely, afraid, angry and abused by scientists. I wanted to take control for myself and the world just to show everyone I’m not a dumb weak mouse anymore. Pinky was right.... I was mean and angry because I was afraid of showing love.... I didn’t know about love enough...”

“Pinky’s better at showing compassion than me..... But right now he can’t do that.... So I want to help you now....” the Brain continued. “I promise to let you make your own decisions this time! No more neural implants! No more mind control! You name it! Just please control yourself before it’s too late!....”

Monster Julia’s eyes widened with confusion.

Could the Brain be telling the truth?

Monster Julia tried harder to control herself.

“I... I didn’t mean to hurt Pinky!....” said Julia. “I want to stop hurting people.... But why am I still angry?.... Why are you so nice to me all of a sudden?.....”

The Brain waited with baited breath for Julia to finally calm down.

Could Julia be coming to her senses?

But then her monster instincts took over again and then realized something. The Brain must be lying. He was just pretending to be nice to her, just so he could use her again.

Monster Julia yelled “No! You’re never like me! You’re trying to use me again by lying! Well, no more! I won’t take orders from you anymore!”

The apology wasn’t working. Not liked it worked for him as a green mouse monster. Dread, fear and hopelessness was overcoming the Brain.

The Brain felt just as helpless, sad and scared as ever. His worst fear was about to do him in. And it was all his fault. His body shook fiercely.

“If only I could fix all this”..... said the Brain tearfully. “You have every right to hate me... I deserve this.... Why didn’t I listen to you or Pinky?.... I don’t deserve forgiveness..... Because my recent actions are unforgivable..... I’m the real terrible heartless monster.... Not you....”

Now the Brain hopelessly prepares for his doom as Julia continues to squeeze him.

That was his punishment after all.

But when all hope seems lost, the very guilty Brain sheds a repentant tear and then he let it drop onto Julia’s nose as a way of saying sorry. Julia felt the tear drop on her nose. She stared at the tear running down her nose. She felt the warmth from it. Then suddenly her nose started to glow magically.

The Brain saw Julia’s nose glowing.

What was happening?

Julia gasped. Then she looked at the Brain with tears running down his face profusely. His tear filled eyes were very honest about her safety and everyone else’s safety.

Julia stopped squeezing Brain and put him down as she became confused.

“Why are you crying?” asked Monster Julia. “How can a stoic mouse like you be capable of shedding tears? Could that warmth be from your genuine remorse and concern for me? How can that be so? How can a tyrant feel sorry for me? But I’m just as bad as you.... How can a monster like me still feel joy and sadness?...”

Julia’s eyes filled with tears.

Then Julia thought of something she hadn’t before.

“Could a tyrant and a monster really change? Am I loved after all?” asked Monster Julia.

Julia’s anger melted away like snow and she realized that the Brain really meant everything that he said. She remembered what Pinky once told her. He was right. The Brain can fix what was wrong with her if they give each other a chance. And maybe he did give up world domination a few times just for Pinky.

Then the warm glow grew and spread all over Julia’s body. It felt like a nice warm hug to Julia.

“For some reason I feel safe. This warmth is so comforting.” Julia said. “I think it’s telling me that I’m not alone and everything’s going to be okay. It’s starting to make sense now. Pinky was right about you all along! You do have some good in you! And I still have good in me! Both of us can change!”

The Brain realized that he was wrong about himself, he still has love in his heart within him despite his recently not so great intentions. He also realized that it’s okay to show compassion towards others no matter how tough he is and that sometimes feeling helpless and weak is okay as long as you have friends to help you. Maybe the Brain could slowly but surely heal from his trauma just like Julia is healing from hers. Maybe Julia didn’t have to turn back into a normal mouse after all.

Then Julia reverted back to her normal mouse size and the obedience chip slipped off her left ear and broke as it hit the ground.

Then after Brain made sure Julia was alright, they would check on the unconscious Pinky from my previous fan art.

Maybe in the reboot the obedience chip won’t fly off Julia’s ear. Maybe she’ll get a surgery to get rid of the obedience chip in her ear after Pinky was alright.

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obaby-me · 4 years

Note

Ok how about this, all of the brothers (or Belphie if you can't) reacting to an m/c who died and became a very angry ghost

This was so hard. You gave me an out, and I instead took that as a challenge. And a helluva fuckin’ challenge it was.

I thought it’d be pretty repetitive if the MC died the same way each time, or haunted each person in the same way. So I tried to give a variety of scenarios for what an “angry ghost” might do. Haunt a specific person, haunt a place, and different ways to haunt someone. Hopefully you at least find it interesting.

Lucifer

You’re screaming. You’re sobbing. It’s an echo down the halls, a reminder of his guilt: Why?

Why wasn’t he there? Why did he let this happen? Why did it have to be you?

Why, why, why?

Lucifer knows why.

Because he’d scoffed at your warnings.

Because he wouldn’t even consider that anything could happen.

Because you were his.

And he was Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. The first of the seven lords. None would oppose him. None would dare. He so adamantly believed so.

He should have been more careful. He should have listened. He should have been there.

He’ll shoulder the burden, just as he has with Lilith. But there was a small saving grace for his sister.

There was none for you. And you were resentful, and unforgiving. And you had every right to be.

So, he’ll bear this punishment; he’ll listen to every scream, and he’ll take every hit—because he knows this is what he deserves. He failed you, and he’s willing to pay for it.

If there’s even a modicum of hope to give you a chance at peace in the afterlife, he’ll do all he can to give it to you. It’s the least he can do.

Mammon

It hadn’t been anything to do with you. It shouldn’t have involved you in any way shape or form. You were an innocent bystander in a dispute between himself and a loan shark.

He was scum, everyone said so. You’d never thought so. You defended him when no one else would.

But in your death, he’d proved himself scum. Proved to you they were right.

It was his fault. All his fault. If he could be anything else other than greed incarnate, this wouldn’t have happened. If he’d never gambled himself away. If he hadn’t taken that loan. If he hadn’t then ignored that loan.

If he hadn’t, if he hadn’t, if he hadn’t. If, if, if.

You’re watching him constantly. Empty eyes boring holes in him, following him, judging him. You say nothing, but you communicate to him just fine just how much you hate him. Just how much you loathe him. Just as he deserves to be.

Despite the guilt he feels with your presence, despite the way his skin crawls when he sees you hovering around him, he doesn’t want you to leave. It’s sick, in a way. But it’s still you after all. And seeing you is a reminder of what was, what could have been. And he holds on to that, clings to it.

He hasn’t got anything else.

Leviathan

Levi’s use to being alone. But somehow, it’s lonelier now than it’s ever been before.

There’s a void in him he can’t fill. No game, no concert, no show, no manga ebbs the pain—the clench in his chest.

For once the excitable avatar is quiet, every so often, quiet sobs choking him until his ducts can’t produce much else. While he’s always been terrible eating, now it’s nearly non-existent. It’s only when his brothers demand and watch him eat that he manages to get anything down.

He spends most of him time lying in bed, sleeping because at least then he doesn’t have to feel it anymore.

Yet, there’s no real safety in sleep. You torment him. You’re shouting most of the time, though he never understands what you say. But he doesn’t need to. He knows what he is. He knows what he’s failed to do. He knows you know it too.

Sometimes you only sob, frustration welling up in your eyes, brows knit. You don’t bother to look at him. And he thinks that that’s worse than when you’re screaming.

If he could save you, spare you from this, stop your tears, make it so you stopped harboring so much hate, he’d do it in a flash.

He just hasn’t the first clue as to how.

Satan

His brothers are terribly concerned. There’s been an unusual increase of outbursts, violent and unreasonable. They’ve no idea what has come over him.

None know but him.

You’re uncontrollable, you’re inconsolable, you’re furious—and there’s no one who understands that feeling better than Satan himself.

What they’d done to you was unforgivable. The way he’d found you, unrecognizable as the bright beacon he’d known you to be, lifeless there on the floor—the rage he felt, indescribable.

You’d always been his much-needed balm. The one to soothe him, calm his temper, end his tantrums. All that yet remains of you is your fury, too stubborn to let go.

And now? Now you were fuel to his fire. Now you encouraged him to lose himself into his anger. You whisper into his ears—dark encouragements to indulge in.

He can resist you only for so long before you become demanding. He’ll appease you with whatever you suggest, letting go and wreaking havoc. But never enough to satisfy you. He makes sure to reign it just enough.

You can’t leave him alone again. He misses you. He misses you terribly. But you haven’t left him yet—you’re still here, so long as he holds on, so long as he rages, you’ll be here.

Asmodeus

Asmo visits the same alley every day. He brings a flower or two, sometimes a whole bouquet. It really depends on what the florist has—and he’s sure to bring the best.

It’s dark and it’s damp, and it’s cold and it smells. It sinks the reality of the horror you must have experienced here deep into his skin; crying out for help, left for dead on the pavement.

Just around the corner used to be a nightclub, one of the liveliest around. Demons would line up, right down into this very alley for a chance to get in there.

But the club’s since closed down. Occupied by just one.

Occasionally he’ll see a curious demon or two camped out inside the building, wondering if the rumors are true that a human haunt its walls.

You tend to verify it quickly. Violently. Sometimes they make it out without injury to more than their pride. Other times they’re lucky to be alive.

While Asmo doesn’t camp in, he does come to greet you at least once a day.

Sometimes you recognize him. You’re even happy to see him on some days. Asmo loves those days. He comes just for those chances, those moments. He holds on to those and stays for as long as you can hold your sense of self.

But it’s never for very long.

He has to leave quickly. Abandoned remnants of the club become weapons—chairs, tables, shards of broken bottles and windows.

You screech obscenities, you threaten death. Your form contorts warped by your hatred. Crawling, oozing, reliving that night where you cried for help, dragging yourself out of the club in attempt to find safety.

You suffer terribly and Asmo wishes desperately to relieve you of it. But you remember so little, and he has so few leads.

An entire club full of people and not a one remembers a thing—or doesn’t wish to say if they do. But one day he will. One day you’ll be freed of this. This he swears.

Beelzebub

Every week, on routine, Beel goes for a run. He runs mile after mile until he reaches the fields on the outskirts of the devildom where you were last seen alive.

At 6:57PM exactly, you flicker into existence and he watches as you float on a pre-determined path. You look as if you’re being carried by your arms, and you head moves wildly from side to side, eyes staring into air, but seeing something that causes you fear. He can see your mouth moving, he knows you’re screaming. You’re begging. You’re pleading.

You’re thrown to the ground and you flicker out. It’s a scene you play out, every week, on time, without fail. You’re carried away, and thrown to the ground. These are the final moments of your death. They’re the only hint he has to know what has happened to you.

You’ll be back again soon; he only has to wait. You’re being dragged this time, but to where he has yet to determine. He has to be quick. He has to be quiet. You can’t be alerted or you’ll break from the scene.

But he’s never been able to follow you yet. There’s always something that interferes. A branch out of place, an animal that rushes past, another demon camping out nearby.

And then his only lead he has disappears, only to be replaced by a nightmare instead.

The image of your battered, decomposing body rising to confront the distraction, as you screech and wail. You’re terrifying to see, to hear, but the worst is the way you latch on and thrash about, with a strength that tosses even the heaviest set demons to the ground.

It’s a heart wrenching experience every time to see you this way. It breaks him down, piece by piece; emotionally, physically. His meals have halved, and his workouts decreased. He cries more than he sleeps, and he does so little of both these days.

But he comes back every week. He comes back to try again. He has to. Your body is out there, somewhere, waiting to be found.

He couldn’t save you then.

But maybe he could save you now.

Belphegor

The avatar of sleep ironically gets very little these days. He struggles to stay awake, knowing that the second he falls asleep, he’ll be reliving the nightmare. Your pleas, your scream, your gasps for air, and that gargle of blood that choked you.

He’s terrified to sleep. And even more terrified of waking up.

When he wakes, he knows you’ll be there. Hovering just above him, pinning him down with a strength born of your malice. The lethargic demon who never would want to move now praying he could, but the paralysis you impose would never let him.

You wanted him to see. To remember.

You’ll replay your grief for him, re-enacting your death for him, wailing and begging the way you had in your final moments before quickly fading. The sleep he used to love you’ve warped into his greatest fear.

Nodding off feels dangerous. Like you’re waiting at the edge of his consciousness for him to drop.

The guilt of what happened was overwhelming, but the exhaustion even more so.

He’ll do anything to make it stop. If only he had any strength to do so.

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writers-block246 · 4 years

Text

Loki x Reader Oneshot- “Is This What True Love Feels Like?”

Warning: Heavy angst (unresolved)

Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. I also realize that Loki may appear a little OOC, as he is normally very eloquent and well-spoken. However, his grammatical errors are intended to show his emotional struggle and the deep impact the events have on him.

——————————————

Y/N’s POV:

“I don’t love you.”

The coldness in his voice startled you. He stood firm and tall in the center of the room. To you, he was stone, unmoving, unwavering in his statement.

“You don’t mean that, Loki.” You truly believed he didn’t. You had seen the love in his eyes, felt the adoration in his touch. There was no way he didn’t love me just as much as I loved him. Nonetheless, your voice still wavered under his steely scrutiny.

“Oh, but I do, pet. You are but a mere mortal, and I, a god. To me, you are nothing.” The words flowed from him so smoothly, almost making you believe him. But this was the God of Lies, and he could play anyone like a fiddle (but he had never played you). More importantly, though, you know Loki.

Something is bothering him. He is trying to push me away for a reason. But you wouldn’t let him.

“Just tell me what’s going on, baby. We can figure this out together.” You trembled, but tried to keep your voice firm.

He stalked closer to you, all feline grace and beauty, making you want to reach out to touch him, hold him, anything. Finally, he stopped mere inches from you, towering above your form. It was moments like these that reminded you of his power, his strength. Usually, they were a comfort, but now they only served to intimidate you.

“You pathetic being, how hard is it to understand that I could never hold devotion for such a simple creature. You are not fit for a god, darling,” he sneered. Darling. A name that typically caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. At this moment, though, they caused a wave of hurt. You desperately tried to maintain control over your emotions, and reminded yourself that this was not Loki, not your Loki. It doesn’t matter what he says. He doesn’t mean it. He just needs my help.

Steeling yourself, you forced your eyes to meet his. “Loki, lets just calm down and talk about what’s going on in that head of yours. I can help you if you’ll only just let me.”

His sneer turned into a face full of hatred. “You stupid, weak human. Don’t you listen? There is nothing you could say to me that would make me want to be around you any longer!” he yelled.

You flinched. In his outburst he had risen his hand to express his frustration, and while you knew that he would never hurt you, you couldn’t help your reaction.

It was then that his face fell. The angered facade he had kept throughout the entire exchange gave way to hurt, fear, and loathing. It wasn’t until now that you realized the hatred you saw in his eyes wasn’t direct toward you, but himself.

You immediately backtracked, beginning to panic that he would think you feared him, something you knew he, himself, feared. But it was too late.

Too late.

The tone he spoke in seemed calm and collected, but you could see the mirage of emotions flash across his face: anger, confusion, sadness, and self-contempt. “I knew you spoke only lies. Years of claiming you were different, that you didn’t fear me as everyone else did. All lies. And to think, I, the God of Lies, himself, did not notice. Not at first anyway. But perhaps you have bested me at my own game, darling. Because I, contrary to popular belief, never lied to you.”

His normally emerald green eyes had turned black, as black as the chasm that now separated you both. “I guess I truly am the monster everyone makes me out to be.”

Before you could even fathom a response, before you could tell him that he was utterly, entirely wrong, he was gone. Gone. In just a few short steps he had left your life. The months it took to even be able to greet him, let alone hold a conversation with him, were gone. The late nights sitting quietly reading together, were gone. The days spent introducing him to music, movies, anything and everything, were gone. A turned back and a closed door had ended it all. Killed everything with a bullet you couldn’t touch. And that’s worse, isn’t it? To see the death, the destruction, and not be able to prevent it? Could I have prevented it?

No more talks about the universe and life. No more coffee dates. No more evenings of playing with his silken hair. All erased from the world in a few steps.

A few steps. Steps. So small, and yet, so impactful. But perhaps it makes sense. After all, steps lead you to wherever you’re going. And now it seems, they are to lead Loki away from you.

You were never one to base your life off of love, truly. But your life had just walked out the door, and your world came crashing down with him, leaving you adrift, not truly knowing where you’ll land.

Is this what true love feels like?

Loki’s POV:

He so desperately wanted to believe you. To believe the false comforts that fell from your lips.

But how could he?

How could he when all he saw when he looked in the mirror was a grotesque figure, a being capable of death and destruction? (The blue skin of his natural form did nothing but fuel the fire of his self-loathing).

How could he when everyone else looked upon him with eyes that spoke of their hatred? Of their terror.

How could he when even you, someone who claimed to hold no fear of him, flinched at the raise of his hand? But I would never strike you, didn’t you know that?

How could he when Odin, the man he once knew as his father, believed him to be a monster? To be lesser than the Æsir, than his brother.

His brother.

His brother who had gotten everything. The love, the fame, the crown. Loki was always lesser, always second place. Why did he even think he had a chance? Why would the throne, the adoration, be given to a monster?

(Perhaps they were right. He would think himself lesser, too. After all, look at what he has done).

How could he?

You were too good for him. Too pure. His touch was a taint on your skin. A shapeless being that threatened to consume you. To pull you down to the depths of hell (where he belonged) with him. Oh how I wished you belonged with me.

But no.

Why couldn’t you just see? Know what he knows?

The universe would never give him you. Not after all the horrid acts he had committed. Not after all his treachery.

The world wouldn’t give a monster an angel.

So he had to push you away. Had to end it before it was too late. Before I could never manage to leave.

The God of Lies was done lying. In fact, he had told his last lie: ‘I don’t love you’ (even though he had claimed to have never lied to you. That, however, was the only lie he had ever uttered to your beautiful face). Too long had he gone on with the charade. Too long had he looked the other way. He knew, no matter the feeble attempts of convincing himself otherwise, that he couldn’t continue with your relationship. It would only end in destruction. Because that’s what he did, destroy. He would destroy you, whether it be now, tomorrow, or forty years in the future. Maybe it’s better for it to be now? To lessen the pain? Right? He would eventually demolish everything that made you beautiful in his eyes. He knew, for once, that he made no mistake in this. Right?

His hands trembled. (Just like they did when they hesitated on the knob of your front door).

His past self would laugh at him, he knew. He had once wanted the throne, the power, so desperately. And now, he only wanted you. He would have done anything, then, to garner what he believed was rightfully his (not Thor’s. He could have, would have, made a better king. But he wasn’t the favorite. Was noone’s favorite. Hell, he wasn’t even Odin’s actual son. Wasn’t Frigga’s actual son. What would she think if she saw me now?). But he met you, and his priorities changed.

But his past self would still laugh at him. After all, a god was not meant to grovel at a human’s feet. But I want to. Want to turn around and beg your forgiveness.

Alas, a few steps had taken him out of your life. A few steps had devastated any chance of happiness or healing he ever had. A few steps had allowed for your happiness in the future?

A few steps saved the Beauty from the Beast.

(You always did like that movie. Thought the Beast deserved a second chance. Do I?).

No.

Lightning struck overhead, and he gave a bitter laugh. Even now, Thor continued to overshadow him.

But a monster deserved to be overshadowed. A monster deserved to be confined to the outskirts. (He used to thrive in the shadows before you showed up. You had taught him to flourish in the light).

He had called you a liar. And you were. Had to be. You could not help him, could not change him. There was no possibility that you loved him as you claimed. He was not capable, nor ever would be, of receiving love.

He continued walking because he knew if he stopped now he would turn around and find himself at your door. The door that had separated them both, left them adrift in a sea of confusion.

So he would take those remaining steps away from you, away from your life. He would do anything as long as it ensured your happiness, your safety.

If this was the only good thing he would ever do, then he could, would, be happy with it.

Is this what true love feels like?

-Admin Cheyenne

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imthepointe · 4 years

Text

When the Hourglass Runs Dry

well ok this was supposed to be for @ninjago-angst-week but considering i’m, like, a week late, i’ll just post it as a regular fic :)

angst week day 7- prompt: future

tw: death, suicide and suicidal themes / word count: 2057

Many years into the future, Pixal and Zane reflect on the past.

Death was always a fanatical topic at dinner tables, partly because each ninja tended to die rather frequently. It was always brought up in a joking manner (“I dunno, Cole’s died, like, four times at this point,” or “Zane, after Prime Empire, I don’t think you’ve died the most times now!”), and truthfully, it wasn’t really something the ninja had given much heavy consideration to in the past. They were always taught to avoid death- to cheat it- they were ninja; it was kind of their job to protect, which is something you can’t do if you’re dead. Plus, the point of existing is to stay alive for as long as you can, anyway.

It is really so unfortunate that death is not a fleeting matter, unlike youth. It is so, so sad that the inevitability of mortality affects everything.

Occasionally, in a fit of existential panic, Lloyd would remember that he was going to outlive Nya, Jay, Kai, and Cole by at least a few hundred years. But for now, while they were still teenagers, that wasn’t something for him to worry about. Zane and Pixal had told him it wasn’t something for him to worry about yet.

Then teenage years turned into the twenties, then twenties into thirties, and so forth- such is life.

Lloyd, Pixal, and Zane had to watch their friends grow old, to watch them age; to Lloyd, there was nothing more painful than the thought that they were all going to die and he still had a good portion of his life that he would have to live without them. But, hey- they had all made it into their seventies, which if you asked Lloyd when he was a teenager how long they would live to be, he would have set the bar a little lower.

But then Cole was diagnosed with the same illness that killed his mother when she was barely in her thirties, and the beloved team ninja was forced back into the reality that they were all going to die sooner or later, and it was probably going to be sooner.

“We made bets on who was going to die first, do you remember?” Kai had said after the former black ninja informed them of his diagnosis. Even though his tone was humorous, his wrinkles furrowed and his eyes drooped.

“Yeah, I think I said it would be you, dumbass,” Cole laughed, which promptly turned into a rattling cough.

“Ka-arma,” Jay smirked. Nya smacked him across the face.

And then Cole was dead within two weeks.

Then Kai, then Jay, then Nya, all only a few years later.

“They lived long lives, Lloyd,” Zane had mentioned one day. “I am so glad we were a part of them. We will see them again in due time.”

Lloyd prayed he was right.

***

Lloyd had made a comfortable living with Pixal and Zane. The three had moved out of Ninjago City, to a quiet and comfortable cottage near Ignacia, where they mostly kept to themselves.

They each tried at least once a month to all visit their friend’s graves, which was normally easier said than done. When they did go, they were alone- Lloyd liked to spend personal time with each of his friends, and he supposed Zane and Pixal had the same logic.

Years passed, and life droned on quietly. There were no new threats to the safety of the city, no new evils or big bads to defeat.

Lloyd began to age. Slowly, surely, but he was aging, and grew to look more and more like his father with each new wrinkle or sign of age, which was often the butt of Zane’s jokes.

Three hundred years later, and the three of them had shifted into a routine with a strong sense of normalcy. It was nice.

It was very nice, actually, Lloyd had decided. He no longer had to worry about people in his life leaving him.

But at four hundred years, he began to worry about his leaving of Zane and Pixal. Wu has lived to be nearly five hundred and thirty years old, but as Lloyd only had a fraction of the godlike blood that Wu had, he feared he would not last much longer.

Not only that, but Lloyd found himself getting much more tired and fatigued considerably more frequently.

The three always started out their mornings on the veranda of their cottage, talking and chatting about whatever subject was most relevant to their quaint lives.

“I’m very old now,” Lloyd had said one day.

“We all are, Lloyd,” Zane pointed out. Pixal lightly squeezed Zane’s hand as if to say really?

“When I die, what will happen to you all?”

Pixal whipped her head around to face the former green ninja and stared him in the eyes. “Do not talk like that, Lloyd,” she scolded. “Don’t worry about us. Don’t say that.”

That was the end of the matter, until Lloyd’s health only continued to decline.

By four hundred and twenty-three years old, Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon was practically bedridden, his extended longevity catching up to him.

He knew he didn’t have much longer on this earth.

Zane and Pixal has been taking care of him to the best of their ability, but death is unavoidable, even for the green ninja.

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd had managed one night, his voice raspy and weak.

“For what, Lloyd?” Zane gently raised the his torso and propped him up with a pillow.

“For leaving you and Pixal.”

“Do not be sorry, Lloyd,” Zane replied with a solemn tone. “Just say hello to our old friends, would you?”

A small tear rolled down Zane’s cheek and he held Lloyd’s hands. The nindroid was mostly sure the other boy had nodded.

Lloyd died peacefully in his sleep two nights later.

***

Zane and Pixal sat on the porch, just as they did every morning, admiring the birch trees and various wildlife, occasionally pointing at a deer or falcon or fox that happened to cross their vision.

It had been a mere three months since the green ninja’s death, with only the two nindroids left to keep each other company. But this morning, this morning was different- Zane was ‘in a funk,’ as Lloyd would have said, and the recollection of Lloyd’s funny vocabulary made Pixal laugh.

“What is funny, Pixal?”

“You seem weird today, that is all,” Pixal met his eyes, “as Lloyd would have said, ‘you are in a funk.’ Are you alright?”

“I’m splendid. In fact, I was thinking of fixing a cake in a minute. How does chocolate sound?”

“That sounds nice, Zane.”

Now Pixal knew something was definitely wrong- Zane only made cakes when something was bothering him.

But even as she watched Zane move inside to the kitchen and put on an apron, she began to think about the question that was heavy-set in her mind, as well.

How much longer of this?

They were nindroids. They could not die from natural causes- how many more years would she live to see?

Pixal, she mentally scolded herself, stop thinking like that. You’re being silly.

You’re being silly.

She stood from the rocking chair, collected herself, and went inside to help Zane- Pixal too found baking rather enjoyable.

Zane asked her to prepare some icing, so she fiddled with the sugar, cocoa, and milk, until she had a consistency presentable enough to self-proclaimed Master Chef Zane.

...which, naturally, there was an issue with.

“See, Pixal, you must add more powdered sugar than milk, that way it stays fluffy,” he dipped his finger into the mixture, “but it still tastes good.” With a swift motion, he scooped some more icing with his finger and smeared it on the girl’s nose.

“Zane!”

Through her frustration, she could not help but laugh, and thus a food fight broke out between them.

By the time they were through, an even layer of flour coated the kitchen counters and floor, cocoa stained on their garments, and icing was in every place imaginable.

Zane stood and helped Pixal to her feet and almost stood in awe of the impressive mess they had made.

Pixal hugged Zane, mostly in an effort to get his clothes significantly more adulterated than they already were. “I would have maybe expected this from Lloyd, not from you.”

The master of ice closed his eyes. “We should probably clean up.”

“Right,” Pixal shoved him playfully as she made her way to the cleaning supplies underneath the sink. She handed Zane a broom and kept a cloth for herself.

She picked up a photo frame that had been completely caked in flour and began to wipe it off. Underneath was a framed picture of her friends, some four hundred years ago, after some valiant battle.

She exhaled loud enough for Zane to notice.

“When will we see them again, Zane?”

“I- I am unsure,” he sighed, “I have been wondering the same.” He swept the flour into a neat little pile in the middle of the floor.

“You have?”

The nindroid looked lost in thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said decisively. “That is why I have been acting weird lately, I suppose.”

“Even though it’s been hundreds of years since their passing, I still miss them so, so much. Is that a bad thing?”

“Oh, Pixal, I hope not.”

The rest of the kitchen was cleaned in a thoughtful silence.

The cake was finished and set on the small dining table, with two rocking chairs on one half of the table and a third chair cast off to the side.

Zane sat down in a chair, and pulled the other out for Pixal to sit beside him. He cut the cake, his hands moving more clumsily than before- Pixal thought he seemed lost in his mind, and she would know- she’s been stuck there before. He carefully set a piece of cake on each plate.

“Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear; seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.”

Pixal couldn’t help but laugh at Zane’s sudden use of Julius Caesar. “That is Shakespeare. Why quote it now?”

“Because it does not apply to us. We will not meet a necessary end.”

She tuned back down to her cake. “That is true.”

She poked at the chocolate for a moment before setting her fork back down. “What are you suggesting? I assume this has something to do with the conversation earlier.”

“I’m just saying I do not think we will ever see Cole, Kai, Nya, Lloyd, or Jay ever again by any natural means.”

Pixal considered his words for a moment before grabbing Zane’s hand. “I have an idea,” she said cautiously- it was risky, unsettling, and terrifying- “but only if you are totally sure about it.”

***

2 weeks since the cake baking incident and Zane and Pixal had finished eating all of the cake. Zane has immediately agreed to Pixal’s idea- he had been toying with the same idea for some time, too, he admitted.

[MANUAL SHUTDOWN DISABLED. OVERRIDE?]

Zane’s fingers wrapped around Pixal’s. The rocking chairs swept back and forth, a gentle sway, just as they had every morning, like this was some part of their routine.

Pixal looked to Zane, her voice barely above a whisper: “Are you sure you want to do this, Zane?”

The nindroid smiled softly. “They are waiting for us, Pixal,” he continued holding her hand, “I can’t wait to see them again.”

Pixal followed Zane’s gaze to the same framed photo sitting across from their chairs.

“I cannot wait either, Zane.”

There was a silence, but not the dreadful kind- the kind of silence that is warm, welcoming, and comfortable.

“I love you, Pixal.”

He gripped her hand tighter.

“I love you, Zane. So much.”

[OVERRIDE.]

***

Soft light cascaded through trees with golden leaves, and a small breeze gently rustled the leaves. The place seemed familiar, in a very distant way, but the two nindroids could not recall anytime they would have visited such a place with this ethereal beauty.

“You two are late,” a familiar voice sounded behind them.

The two turned around, hands still linked, to face their friends. Cole stood in the middle, a tender smile spreading across his face.

“We are here now, friends.”

#hooo boy finally finished super late #ninjago angst week #tw suicide #tw death #pixane #ninjago #lloyd #its angst but also got a pretty nice and tidy ending sooo #yeah <3 #claire writes

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brichan87 · 3 years

Text

Trying out a new story

Been working on a new story: a new take on the superhero genre. Figure I will post it here and see what people think. Still a work in progress but feel free to leave feedback.

Chapter 1

The morning cold seeped into her bones as she shuffled into the kitchen not quite ready to face the world. Her eyes opened to narrow slits, filtering out all of the world except her intended target. The sky outside was still dark and caused her mind to plead for her to go back to bed. Yet, as she does every morning, Tally resisted the urge to turn around and return the the bedroom.

The winter holidays were fast approaching; however, the days seemed to be lengthening while her energy diminishes more and more each day. Every morning she should wake up feeling refreshed and revitalized; instead Tally feels more exhausted than when she went to sleep, defeating its entire purpose. Meditation, tea...nothing seemed to help which caused her frustration to increase with each failure. Why waste that time sleeping if it did nothing for her?

Part of her understood that the stress of the season was adding to her exhaustion. Between the decorations, preparations for guests, and trying to that holiday scene perfect for social media, it was natural for someone to feel burned out. And her second job only added to the exhaustion. However, Tally could not shake the feeling that something was not right.

Something about this exhausting felt strange: like it was unnatural. Maybe it was just her trying to explain away her stress and fears as reactions to things that are out of her control but something inside of her was screaming “danger!” The damage dealt to her arm the night before did not help her with the feeling of impending doom. For such minor injuries, the pain level kept creeping up over night.

“Maybe I need to call the doctor to get checked out,” Tally mumbled softly as she wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic mug waiting for her on the counter. The smell of orange and cinnamon wafted through the air causing her brain and body slowly began to become more alive.

“Hey, that could have been mine,” a voice teased from behind her.

Turning her head to glance over her shoulder, she saw her boyfriend set down his tablet and stand up from the table. Making his way into the kitchen, he popped open the refrigerator door and dug out some ingredients. After mixing some of them together, the man walked up to Tally and placed a small kiss on her cheek before handing her a bowl of fruit and yogurt.

“Me, tea. You, coffee,” she grunted. Last night was a rough one; getting in at one in the morning definitely made her less than cheery at 5 A.M. But the soft smile she got in return made her heart flutter as she reached out and grasped the bowl that he held out to her.

“Wow. Didn’t know I was dating a caveman.” Bradie chuckled as she flashed him a less than loving hand gesture. “Alright, alright, I get it. Mornings are still not your thing. I appreciate you sacrificing your chance to sleep in to spend some time with sad, little me who has to be at work by seven in the morning everyday.”

“Sad, little you is exceptionally cheery today. Why?”

“Because it is the last day of school before Thanksgiving Break. So not only will I have 5 days of no work related activities because I was ‘a good child’ who got all his lessons planned before the break, but tomorrow I finally get to meet your family.”

THUNK!

Every dish on the table rattled as Talaleigh let gravity drag her head down until her forehead struck the surface; whether or not the groan she let out was out of pain or frustration was a mystery to both of the people in the room.

“Are you sure we have to go visit my family? It’s really not too late to say something came up,” she pleaded. The table muffled the sound of the words but the dread managed to ring out loud and clear. “We can even hop a last minute flight and go see your parents. Or a nice, quiet couple’s Thanksgiving. Anything but going to see my family.”

The room was silent for a few minutes then Bradie let out a soft sigh as he slid into the chair opposite of hers. “What’s going on, Tal? Because you never want me to meet your family. And I try to not be offended by it but more and more it is starting to feel like you are ashamed of me.”

“No, not you,” she reassured. Lifting her head up, Tally reached across the table and rested her hand on his forearm. “Never you. You are amazing. Smart, intelligent, kind, good-looking, amazing, and I know I am repeating myself here but it is true. It is not you that I am trying to hide.”

Standing up from the table, Tally grabbed both of their cups and took them into the kitchen. “It’s just that…,” she began as she poured Bradie more coffee and began to brew herself a new cup of tea. This conversation seemed easier to have if she was slightly distracted by a separate task. “My parents are a little nontraditional. Loving, supportive people but definitely different. Nothing like your parents. And then my brother,” she continued as she brought finished the preparations and brought their drinks back to the table. “He and I really don’t get along at all. As in we get into fights pretty frequently. And they are not small fights.” As much as she tried to fight them back, a few tears began to fill her the corners of her eyes. “And it sucks because he were actually really close as kids, but then something happened and it has never been the same since." Grabbing a tissue off the corner of the desk, Tally wiped away the tears before they escaped. "So it is not that I don’t want to show you off to my family, it is more that I don’t want you to bear witness to the kind of crazy you’ll be tied to if you stick with me.”

“Oh honey, I’ve already witnessed that crazy. However…” he paused to duck the wadded up napkin being thrown at him. “I love you too much to care what your family is like. They are a part of you, so I am sure that I will love them just like I do you. And if not, I promise we never have to see them again. Deal?”

A twitch of her lips revealed her thoughts before she gave him a small nod. "Deal, but that means you.." A yawn fought its way to the surface, breaking off her comment. As she brought up her arm to hide her mouth, her sleeve slipped down, exposing several bruises and cuts littering the expanse of her forearm. Most were shallow but a few of them were deep enough to require bandages until they scabbed over.

“Jesus Tal!” Bradie exclaimed. He clamored out of the chair and knelt by her side. “Those look bad. Why didn’t you say anything?” He gently grasped her wrist to examine the wounds. Rolling up her sleeve further, he noticed some areas that looked like they were burned by some sort of chemical: the skin was red and pebbled with tiny bumps.

Tally half-heartedly tried to pull her arm out of his grip but her boyfriend was not done investigating the wounds. "It’s nothing, really. Just ran into some trouble with a nasty plant last night, and it left me with some scratches and little poison ivy I think. Not a big, oh sh------” she hissed as Bradie accidentally grazed one of the wounds with his fingernail. Waves of pain pulsed through her arm, and Tally squeezed her eyes shut while trying to ride out the pain. When she was able to open her eyes again once the pain faded away, Talaleigh felt a twinge of guilt when she laid eyes on her boyfriend. Disapproval was sketched all over his face.

“It’s not a big deal, my ass,” he grumbled, letting her arm go as he stood up. “You should have woken me up.” Reaching into the cabinet above the sink, he shoved boxes and bottles to the side, digging for an item buried in the back. “You know I wouldn’t mind helping you clean up your wounds. If anything,” he continued as he pulled out a first aid kit and made his way back to her side. “It would help me because then I wouldn’t have mini-heart attacks every time I find one on accident.” He knelt down beside her and held out a hand, waiting for her to place her care literally and figuratively in his hands. Tally did not hesitate to comply.

“I know,” she replied softly. She winced a little as the man at her knees started to apply antiseptic to the cuts on her arm. Flames licked at the wounds as the medicine killed the bacteria surrounding the edges of the cuts. For the second time in the past five minutes, Tally felt tears welling up in her eyes. But these tears were different; they were for the man who loved and worried about her enough to risk being late for work in order to take care of her. “I know it scares you, and I’m sorry. I...I just figured that I had it handled so there is no point in waking you just so you could worry more.”

A hand reached up and brushed off a few of the tears that had escaped to her cheek, surprising Tally because she did not even notice them leaving. Then a pair of strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and brought her to his chest. The continuous beat of his heart soothed her frayed, emotional nerves and surrounded her with warmth and safety.

“I will always worry,” he whispers in her ear, causing more tears to join the ones that he erased a moment earlier. “It is just the price of loving someone who cares so much about others and will do whatever she can to help them. And I know your job is important but so are you. Don’t make sacrificing yourself the first option you pick. Can you promise me that?”

A flurry of emotions raced through Talaleigh. Her instincts to make light of serious issues warred with her desire to comfort the man before her. All of the thoughts and feelings swelled up in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak. So instead she slowly nodded her head against Bradie’s shoulder, smearing tears over the shoulder of his shirt.

“Okay,” she croaked. “For you.” The two sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the comfort of being near each other. However much they desired to spend the rest of the day cuddling like this, both new that the real world would soon be calling. Sitting up, Tally wiped her face off with her sleeve and glanced at the clock. “And now I have made you late. So sorry.”

“Nah, I’ll still be there on time. I’ve got no copies to make and probably very few children there today, so no need to get there early. What are you up to today?”

"Nothing special, I hope. Probably spend a little time straightening up and then most of the day working on my book. Hopefully I can get a chapter done before we leave tomorrow. Since I worked last night, I should be a 'last resort' call but we know how that goes sometimes."

"Well, I hope you have a quiet day of writing because no matter what happens, tomorrow will be a day to remember." Leaning down, he placed a kiss on her cheek then headed to the door. "Remember to use your powers for good, not evil," Bradie called out as he walked through the doorway.

“Very funny,” she yelled as the door closed behind him. “It’s not me you have to worry about."

Collecting the breakfast dishes from off the table, Talaleigh carried them to the sink and began to clean them, losing herself in the routine of dipping her hands in and out of the hot, soapy water. Her mind drifted to her family and what might be awaiting her tomorrow. The prospect of introducing the one she loved to her family should be thrilling since it is proof of how committed Bradie and her are to one another. However, the fact that she cannot even begin to imagine how her family will behave in front of her boyfriend was making her incredibly anxious.

How long has it been since I went home, she thought as she placed one of the dishes in the drainer. It has been at least a year, if not longer. I mean mom and dad did come visit me here in the spring. So I have seen them just haven’t visited them. And they haven't met Bradie yet even though I promised them we would stop by a month or two ago. But things have been crazy between work and Bradie hardly gets any long breaks until the November/December time frame. And I did see Axel last month but God knows that was anything but enjoyable...

Anger rushed through her veins at the thought of her younger brother. The brother that she always put first. The brother who she sacrificed her free time to take to friends' houses and after school activities. The brother she practically raised. The brother who turned his back on her.

She slammed the pot in her hand down into the sink, sending a spray of bubbles and water over the wall and her shirt. “Damn him,” she ground out as she flexed her hands over and over, trying to release the fury boiling under her skin. “I swear if he does anything to ruin this holiday he will regret it.”

A shrill chime echoed through the room, dragging Tally out of her pensive state and back into the real world.. “Oh you have got to be kidding me,” she groaned as she dried her hands on a dish cloth before heading back to the table to grab her phone.

“Hello? Yes, it is her. No,.. see I worked last night and have the marks to prove it. Got tangled up with… no, the pun was not intended! Yes, I’m fine but..look! I don’t mean to be short or sound disagreeable but I have a life too and there are other people who can handle this. I mean what's the point of having a union if you are going to keep calling up the same people all the time. So unless you can explain to me why it is so important for me specifically to be there, I am hanging up and turning the phone on silent.”

The speaker on the phone had to say only three words before she interrupted him with a brusque “I’ll be there in fifteen” and ended the call. “Eff my life,” she grumbled as she threw the phone onto the sofa while heading into the bedroom to change into her costume.

When Bradie joked with her about “using her powers for good”, it wasn’t actually a joke. For the past year Talaleigh has been working as the superhero Safeguard, and she has just been called onto another assignment.

#story #writing #superhero #mysterynovel

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simpcircus · 4 years

Text

We meet again (M)

Pairing: Solomon x reader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: In which you and your childhood friend, Solomon were reunited thanks to the exchange program.

Warning: Smut

A / N: My first OM fic on this blog is literally a smut-

---

"Hey you there"

Your eyes darted to the direction of the voice, only to see a man standing not too far off from the spot you were standing at. With hesitation lingering in your chest, you pointed to yourself questioningly.

"That's right, I'm talking to you; the human with that frightened, tormented look on your face that demons love so much."

While his words sounded like a light insult to your pride, you couldn't care less at the moment. At least he 'saved' you from those demons who were planning to eat you earlier.

Your eyes studied the stranger's features as he approached you - silver hair, pale skin and mischief lying underneath his friendly gaze. His appearance and the way he carried himself brought a sense of familiarity to you, but you weren't sure if it was just your brain playing tricks.

You were completely unaware of the defensive and cautious look you had on your face while you were eyeing him. The stranger, who had noticed how tense you were, let out a laugh.

"What's with that look? There's no need to be suspicious of me."

Unfortunately for him, you weren't the type to be easily convinced with just words. If anything, it had only made you feel a stronger urge to be more wary of this man. However, you still couldn't shake off the weird feeling in your chest. It felt like you've met him somewhere before.. but where? When?

He caught you slightly off guard when he held up your red d.d.d, a handsome smile was visible on his face. "This is yours, right? You dropped it on the floor."

As suspicious as he is, you couldn't dismiss the fact that he was quite good looking. Taking away your d.d.d from his hand, you returned your eyes to his. "Thank you" you said but it came out as a murmur.

"My name's Solomon. I'm an exchange student from the human world, just like you."

Solomon..

Now where have you heard that name before?

Solomon.

Shiny silver hair, that scheming look he had on his face, his blue eyes which had a hint of gold..

No doubt that was him. There's no way in hell that it wasn't him.

Your eyes widened as your stare intensified, lips parting in an 'o' shape out of sudden realization. "Hold on. I believe we know each other. I'm (y/n). Does my name ring a bell in your head?"

Solomon broke into another laughter, but it was softer than before. "Of course, (y/n). It's the only reason why I approached you. Long time no see."

(10 years ago)

"Hey Solomon, help me out here."

"I'm busy"

You let out a huff out of frustration as you glared at the boy for not wanting to help you with your math homework. You have been struggling with a question about rotation for almost fifteen minutes now and your friend couldn't care less to help you.

Groaning, you slammed your pencil againts the table. "There's too much homework and flipping shapes is too hard!" Your whine didn't seem to bother him at all as he kept focusing on his own homework.

Holding up your math book to show him the question you're stuck at, your eyes were now fixed on him. "How do I flip this shape three times in my head?"

Your persistency on getting him to help you has finally paid off, as Solomon looked up from his book and rested his chin in his palm. "Just turn it"

Annoyance was now present in your senses as you shot him another glare. It's not that he was fazed by your glare at all. After hanging around each other for so long, he had gotten used to your glares.

"You're turning me crazy, Solo." you spoke, venom dripping from your tone.

Solomon only proceeded to let out a short laugh after seeing your annoyance. Of course, there was nothing better than to tease you and watch how annoyed you were with his shenanigans.

"I'm serious! If you can't flip it in your head, just turn it." he said, his lips stretching into a grin. You knew him too well to know that he wasn't being completely serious, but at the moment, you were too desperate to solve the math question.

"Turn it.." You muttered under your breath before standing up while still holding the book. Ignoring all the hesitation in your chest, you turned your head along with the book towards the same direction.

Well that definitely didn't help you to find the answer at all.

Solomon was already rolling on the floor of your room, laughing at you. You were staring at him in disbelief after you stood back straight again. How dare he laugh at you when you were in a dire state.

"You're supposed to turn your book, not your head!" Your friend wiped off a small tear from his right eye after he was finished laughing. You were still in confusion as you looked at the question with furrowed eyebrows. Solomon sighed softly before urging you to return to your seat in front of him. "Here, I'll teach you."

Time passed rather quickly as you focused on his teaching, finally understanding the true method on how to solve the question. A satisfied grin made its way to your face as you slammed the math book close before pulling out another homework.

"You really love to slam things, don't you?" Solomon's frown earned a chuckle from your throat as you turned your attention to the outside of your window.

Not too far off from your apartment, there was a commotion with paramedics rushing out of the ambulances. Bypassers were gathering around as they watched the unfortunate incident unfold. "There's an accident."

"Do your homework (y/n)" Solomon's voice interrupted you but you were more interested in the current commotion. Broadcast station cars were rushing into the scene as their reporters tried to collect as much information as they could. You watch as the paramedics struggled to save severely injured victims of the car accident while their relatives wailed in agony and worry. Your heart felt pain for them as you kept watching, but that was until something else caught your attention.

"There's two." you said, without providing any context.

If Solomon wasn't distracted by you earlier, now he is. Your words sparked curiosity in his chest as he turned to look at you. "What?"

You watched the two figures intently, light radiating from their glowing humanoid bodies. However, one of them doesn't look as pleasant. The light radiating off from their body was crimson red. It's eyes were black, reminding you of an abyss that one wouldn't wish to fall into.

Your silence had caused Solomon to walk over to your side at the window as he looked outside. He knew something was off if you weren't answering his question. As he looked outside, he could only see the accident. Nothing too unusual.

"The deceased have arrived.." You said with a low voice.

He removed his gaze from the scene to look at you with concern written all over his face. He was aware that you have the ability to see things others couldn't and sometimes, he had to admit that it worried him.

"There's two and one of them is really scary. It looked so.. evil." your eyes never left the evil spirit but Solomon was caught off guard when you suddenly pulled him to the floor with you to duck and hide from the window.

"Ouch you could've just warned me next time.. What's up with that anyway?" he frowned, groaning in pain as you got off from his back to sit up. "That was close." you sighed in relief.

Solomon was still confused as he sat up, blue eyes never leaving your face."It's bad to lock eyes with an evil spirit - even if it was by accident and you're unaware of it. My grandfather said that misfortune will befall you if you lock eyes with one. What's worse is that it'll stick to you like glue and they'll also try to take you to the afterlife with them."

You were shivering at your own explanation. You would always get goosebumps at the thought of accidentally locking eyes with an evil spirit. Your friend was now silent, his facial expression turned into a thoughtful look as he absorbed the newfound information.

"Interesting.." he murmured while holding his chin, his gaze was now on the floor. Solomon doesn't seem to be affected by fear at all, contrary to you.

"You shouldn't go home alone tonight. I'll walk with you. We couldn't risk having the evil spirit I saw earlier attack you!" You quickly said, gaining his attention once more. At least you could help him avoid the entity if they ever run into one while he's on his way home.

Solomon only nodded at her offer. While he knew that he was perfectly capable of using magic to defend himself, having someone to look out for him would be much better. Of course, his magic wasn't powerful enough to do obscure things considering his current age and experience, but it has been really useful for his own safety.

"You know what (y/n)? I envy you." Well that was something that had shocked you to the core. Solomon, out of people, envy you? Your eyebrow raised in a questioning manner as your eyes searched for an explanation to his jealousy.

"You? Envy me? It should be the other way around, Solomon. You know so much about magic at your age and you're academically so smart to be compared to me"

Your comment only earned yourself a chuckle from him as he shook his head. "You don't get it, don't you? That's okay. I think I should be off now since it was getting late." He said, packing his bag before standing up to take his leave. "Are you coming?"

"Of course"

(Present)

"I still can't believe that we got reunited under the weirdest circumstance." You sighed, crossing your arms as Solomon sat in front of you. The two of you have been hanging around each other a lot ever since your unexpected encounter at the hallway that day.

His room in the Purgatory Hall was the perfect hangout spot, considering the fact that no one was there to interrupt you. The House of Lamentation and RAD weren't exactly great options, since the demon brothers were always around you. Sometimes, the two of you would go around for a walk in the city if you're really up to it.

"You were expecting for a more dramatic reunion, don't you?" He wasn't wrong at all though. All these years when the two of you were separated, you have been daydreaming for a really dramatic reunion - be it accidentally meeting each other in college or running into each other in some random cafe.

"You know me, Solo. What's life without a little bit of cheesy-out-of-the-drama scenes anyway?" Your usage of his old nickname gave Solomon a strange, warm feeling in his heart.

You were the one who had come up with that nickname and you had no idea how protective he was towards it. The only person he wouldn't mind calling him as 'Solo' was you. Obviously he wouldn't tell you about it anytime soon.

"I believe that our reunion in Devildom is actually quite wonderful. We're probably the first human pair who had the chance to reunite in hell before our deaths."

You can tell that he was slightly amused with the fact that you two did reunite in hell. "I do remember how you yelled at me about wanting to kill me and meet again in hell" he said, laughing at the memory.

"Hey that was only because you angered me. How can I not get angry when you used my last cookie for some magic experiment.." You pouted. "The worst part? You transformed the cookie into a roach. A ROACH, Solomon. You know how much I hate them."

You remember the nightmare of having a huge cockroach flying around your room as soon as Solomon said a spell out loud to your last chocolate chip cookie. It was one of the most horrible things that had ever happened in your life.

"But I did rescue you that day, am I correct?" He smirked, reminding you of how terrified you were, to the point of clinging onto him while yelling out for help. The memory brought a light flush on your cheeks as you looked away from him while cringing in embarrassment.

"Alright stop reminding me about it already." You groaned in annoyance, shooting a glare towards your friend. Solomon only chuckled, just as you expected. This man was never afraid of your glares and death stares.

"You're just the same (y/n) that I knew from back then, but I'll have to admit that you've become more smarter to be compared to before- ow ow-"

Your eyes were gleaming with fury as you tackled him down to the floor. Your hands were pinching both of his cheeks in a rough manner (but not rough enough to the point of bruising him) while ignoring his complaints about how painful it was. "You dare to call me stupid? I'm not going to let you get away from this, Solomon!"

He hissed in pain before using his strength to flip you over, your roles were quick to exchange since he was the one at the top now. You didn't even realize when or how he had pulled your hands away from his cheeks, only to hold them tightly above your head. "What are you going to do about it then, undertaker ?"

It was an old, playful nickname he had given you for your ability to see and communicate with spirits of the deceased. You were in awe that he would still remember about it, but your current position on the floor wasn't letting your head to work really well.

His face was inches away from yours, the mischievous smirk he had on his face suddenly looked way more attractive than it was before. You could feel his breath on your skin due to how close you two were. His facial expression was unreadable, yet it almost looked like he was challenging you to do something.

Solomon knows that you're not the type to back off from a challenge.

Especially when it's a challenge from him.

Your own lips stretched into a smirk to rival his, showcasing your confidence towards his unspoken challenge. Without giving him any warning, you closed the distance between the two of you with a kiss.

You've noticed the way he stared at you during class before. You've noticed the light blush on his cheeks whenever you tease him. Hell, Asmo had told you enough about how Solomon was basically pining after you. His light flirtings didn't go unnoticed by you as well.

The man was in shock as he froze in his position, his face turned red. His mind was screaming, yearning for him to succumb into the temptation of kissing you back but his body wouldn't respond the way he wanted to.

You, his childhood friend and crush, was kissing him. He has been waiting for years to steal your kiss but now that he had finally gotten it, he wasn't responding.

Why is that? Was it fear of not being able to be the perfect partner for you? Uncertainty? His confidence had seemed to evaporate into thin air at the moment - something quite out of character of him to happen.

His lack of response caused you to break the kiss. Awkwardness, regret and disappointment begin filling in your heart that was slowly breaking. Have you made a grave mistake? Did you just destroy your years worth of friendship with Solomon?

Your heart clenched in pain at the thoughts echoing in your mind. Your eyes were directed to anywhere but him as you mustered all your strength to push him away. Surprisingly, Solomon wasn't fighting back this time.

"Sorry but I have to go." You can tell how cold your voice sounded as you spoke. You knew that it was quite immature to give him the cold shoulder just because he didn't reciprocate your feelings. However, you couldn't help it. The icy tone in your voice was an automatic reflex to your defensiveness towards the situation.

Solomon was silent as he watched you go. Part of him wanted to stop you and tell you how much he loves you but the other part of him was opposing the idea. He was conflicted.

"What have I done..?"

It has been almost two weeks since that embarrassing incident between you and Solomon. As much as you hate to say this, things were awkward between the two of you now - or at least you were the one who was suffering deeply. Your friend seemed calm and collected about it, just as how you had expected of him.

Solomon would still try to invite you for a walk around town or just hanging out in his room like before, but somehow, you manage to find an excuse to avoid him everytime he reaches out to you.

Classes have ended and the others have went back to their respective shelters, leaving you alone in the classroom. Mammon had offered to stay with you earlier, but he got an urgent call for a modelling shoot.

Knowing the demon, he would definitely go for the shoot, but not before nagging at you to go back to The House of Lamentation for the sake of your safety. He kept saying how Lucifer would punish him if anything bad ever happens to you and that would be a huge hassle to deal with.

You, being the stubborn person you were, paid no attention to Mammon's nagging and proceeded to stay anyway.

Being cooped up in your room wasn't really an issue but you weren't really feeling it today. Lately, you have been feeling stuffy and you figured that it would be best to enjoy your book in a different setting.

A soft sigh left your lips as your hands reached out for a book from your bag. Satan had lent you the book two days ago, claiming that it would be a good read. You have always trusted his judgements when it comes to books and dramas.

Just when you were about to start reading in pure silence, a familiar voice entered your ears. That voice which you have been dreading to not hear in the past two weeks.

"Hey there"

Your grip on Satan's book tightened as you tried your best to stay calm. 'Maybe he was talking to someone else.. He should be. But I'm the only one here..' The thoughts rang through your mind as you bit your inner cheek to not look at Solomon. However, your eyes betrayed you.

Your gaze went up and was now locked onto his. Holding the eye contact, he shot you a smile before taking a seat on an empty chair right next to you. "I wonder.. what are you, a human, doing here by yourself?"

A light scoff emitted from your throat at his question. There's nothing wrong with it, of course, but your temper has become quite insane lately - probably rivalling The Avatar of Wrath himself. You wouldn't be surprised if anyone sees you as a walking ticking bomb.

"Can't you tell? I'm reading." You deadpanned, holding up the book in your hands just in case he failed to notice it. "I guess it's only fair if I ask you the same question considering you're a human as well. A quite shady human, to be exact."

Now that you think of it, the cold tone in your voice and your choice of words probably made you sound like an asshole. "I wasn't.. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything. Sorry if I sounded too harsh." You quickly added, with eyebrows furrowing lightly in disapproval towards your own behaviour.

Instead of looking offended, Solomon only laughed at your apology before shaking his head to dismiss it. "I would consider taking your words as a compliment. Being seen as 'shady' wasn't too bad, I think. But by any means, do you hate me (y/n)?"

You choked on air upon his question. You? Hate him? You literally just kissed him two weeks ago.

"No, of course not! I mean.. I don't think you're the bad kind of shady when I was talking earlier. I was just trying to say that you're.. uh.. mysterious. Yes. That's what I was going to say" You were aware that you're just rambling at this point but you couldn't help it. You didn't really wish to worsen your friendship with him. "A-and being mysterious is what makes you intriguing! So, no, I don't hate you at all Solomon."

The man only nodded in silence as a sign that he understood what you were trying to say. His facial expression was unreadable as usual, but you could catch the slight satisfaction in his face - as if he had gotten the answer he wanted.

"About two weeks ago-" Solomon got cut off mid sentence when you covered his mouth with your palms. Your cheeks blossomed into different shades of red out of embarrassment, while your heart was breaking due to the huge possibility of getting rejected by him.

"Alright, hear me out Solo. I'm sorry okay? I regret kissing you because things are now awkward between us. Just so you know, I really value our friendship so please can we go back to how we used to be? Let's pretend like it never happened and-"

It was his turn to cut you off as he pulled your hands away and called your name to free his lips before speaking. "(y/n), do you really have feelings for me?" His expression was calm, a contrary to your current state. Your blush intensified as you stared at him wide eyed upon his question.

The only answer you could give him was just a shy, timid nod and Solomon wasted no time as he immediately lifted your chin before smashing his lips onto yours. He messed up last time, so Solomon was determined to make it up to you today.

You sat in your seat in shock, your face couldn't get any redder than this. You were about to return the kiss when he pulled away and rested his forehead againts yours. His blue eyes were staring right into your soul as he spoke.

"I'm sorry for hurting your feelings that day (y/n). I've always been in love with you ever since we were still kids but I couldn't find the courage to admit it." His words were genuine, you can tell. The look in his eyes told nothing but how in love he was towards you. This was the first time you have ever seen this truly genuine side of him.

Upon his confession, you only smiled happily before diving into another kiss. It begins with a peck before his kiss became more insistent. Not too long after, his tongue slipped past your lips and tangled with yours. Solomon was determined to show how he feels and your eyes have slipped shut in the heat of the moment. The classroom's temperature has seemed to be increasing rapidly as both of your bodies warmed up.

His hands released yours before he moved them to grip the sides of your waist, only to drag you up to your feet and carefully slam you againts the wall without breaking the kiss. With your arms around his neck, the kiss became more and more heated. You shivered when his hand stroked up your exposed thigh under your skirt.

"Wait we can't do this here" You spoke breathlessly while cupping his face after breaking the kiss. His eyes have darkened with lust as he smirked, his hand still stroking the smooth skin of your thigh teasingly. "W-we'll get caught.. It's too risky."

Your words emitted a chuckle from his throat as he leaned closer to your ear and whispered. "Then be a good girl and stay as quiet as you can. What's life without a little risk anyway?" You got goosebumps at the way his hot breath hits your ear. A soft pant left your lips when he started trailing kisses down from your jaw to the column of your neck, only to suck the sensitive skin there.

With his hand now on the inside of your thigh, he pulled away from your neck and spoke lowly. "Or do want us to continue this in my room at The Purgatory Hall?" His slender fingers were trailing over your soft skin, close to where your body wants him. Solomon still has the smirk on his face, and you were completely sure that it was just a way for him to tease you.

While doing it in public has the chance of you getting caught, you were already wet enough from all that kissing and teasing. Stopping now only to go to his room would feel like a hassle and you were too impatient for that. The thought of having to act like everything was fine around the angels in The Purgatory Hall and hide your arousal while Solomon watch you doesn't sound really appealing either.

"Answer me." His husky voice was steady as he spoke, his grip on your waist tightened. His fingers have now slipped over your panties, pressing lightly on your throbbing clit. His other hand trailed up your upper body and slipped under your shirt, trailing over your smooth skin. "You have to decide quickly." He was now gently nibbling the shell of your ear, stimulating you further.

You could feel your head spin at his touch. There's no way you could hold yourself back anymore. Your half lidded eyes quickly darted around just to make sure so that there was no one in sight. You were fortunate enough that the classroom's door was closed. However, your attention was instantly brought back to him when his fingers started flicking a nipple under your bra. "K-keep doing that." You moaned softly while your fingers ran through his soft silver hair.

His moan seemed to be the only thing he needed to proceed. His mouth went back to sucking and biting your neck as he growled againts your skin. "I've been waiting years to do this." He started grinding againts you, his bulge pressing againts your heat and causing a wave of pleasure to wash over your senses.

His name left your lips in a needy tone, your hand was now tightly gripping his shoulders as you tried your best to hold yourself from falling to the floor considering how weak your legs have become at this point.

"Look at you. Our clothes are still on and you're already this wrecked." His hand left your nipple and fists into your hair before snapping your head back. "I'll remind you again. Be quiet or I'll stop." With that, he instantly tugged your school jacket off and unbuttoned the shirt of your uniform before nipping at your skin above your bra while unclasping it.

He loves the way you look like at the moment - lips swollen, eyes glazed and chest heaving. The fact that he was the one who had made you look this sinful has greatly boosted his ego.

He dragged his tongue to your breast and started flicking it with the wet muscle while pressing his lips againts the skin around it. While his tongue was doing it's work, his hand was kneading the other. The sensation of his warm lips againts your burning skin brought up a whine from your throat, but you were quick to bite your lip as an attempt to hold the noise back.

Solomon noticed your effort on trying to keep quiet and let out a soft chuckle before switching breasts. Again, you had to bite your lips to hold back your noises of pleasure. You were a panting mess, a sight delightful enough only exclusive to the sorcerer's eyes.

"S-Solomon please" You were already reaching your limit with his teasings because he was taking his damned sweet time with you. Following the helpless plea, you bucked your hips up, desperate for more.

"Impatient, are we?" He chuckled before bunching your skirt up to your waist and pulled down your soaked panties to your ankle. His finger trailed down to your folds to gather your slick before bringing it back up for you to see. "Look at how wet you are." He smirked before going down on you.

He started to flick your bundle of nerves while his tongue flattened againts you, pressing it. His slender fingers rubbed circles onto your clit while still holding eye contact with you. Your lips parted as silent pleas emitted from your throat, your hand went through his hair to tug at his scalp. Your action had caused him to groan, sending vibrations through your core. Your back arched while your eyes rolled at the immense pleasure.

It doesn't take long for you to reach your climax. You were still doing a pretty great job at staying as silent as you can. The only thing that has escaped your lips were just pants and moans soft enough that it's barely audible. Just when you were about to get your release, Solomon pulled away. "N-no!" Tears started forming at the corners of your eyes as you looked at him with disbelief.

However, before you even got a chance to complain, he was already preparing to insert himself into you. He gave a soft, gentle peck onto your lips before pushing into you. His lips found their way back to yours as he kissed you to muffle your loud moans. The intensity of his kiss increased as he pushed farther inside of you.

Your legs were now tightly wrapped around his waist while his hands were holding your body tightly and securely. One of your hand trailed up his abdomen under his shirt while the other was wrapped around his neck. Then, he pulled back and slams back into you.

The kiss broke since the two of you needed some air, but he wasn't slowing down on his pace. He goes harder and harder, while showering you with praises and muttering how much he loves you with every thrust. It was at this moment when you get to see his raw, vulnerable side and honestly, that was the best part for you.

Your moans continue as he kept giving you the pleasure you wanted, pushing you closer to the edge. His name has become a chant on your lips at this point. You were already sensitive enough from him eating you out earlier so it doesn't take long for you to reach your climax again this time.

You can feel yourself clench around him, causing him to let a strangled moan to escape his lips. "Come for me baby." The man said before stuttering shortly, lost in the feeling of you slowly unraveling. Not too long after, he could feel himself nearing his climax and grunted through clenched teeth.

Giving a bite to your shoulder, he groaned as he came down from his high, filling you deep. As he finally pulls out from you, Solomon held you carefully to make sure you wouldn't fall onto the cold hard floor of the classroom. Both of you were breathless, hair messy with sweat coating your warm skin.

Solomon carefully set you on a nearby chair before fixing himself and his clothes. "That was amazing." He shot you a naughty smile, silently admiring the hickeys on your neck while you were fixing your clothes as well. His words cause you to blush and it took you a few seconds to remember about the love marks he had left on your skin. Your eyes widened, looking at him with a panicked look.

"How am I supposed to go back like this? Asmo.. Asmo's definitely going to know what's up with these marks" You mentally groaned at the thought of having to answer the questions from the demon brothers. However, Solomon only laughed at your panicked expression before ruffling your hair gently.

"I've put a spell on you to ensure that they wouldn't notice your disheveled appearance. It only lasts for a day so you have to think of a way to hide those marks.. Unless you wanted to show them off." he shot a playful smirk at you, his eyes sparkled as he wondered on how you would hide those marks.

You jokingly rolled your eyes while carefully standing up on your feet with his help. "So, how about we go on for our first date tomorrow after school?" He asked after releasing his hold from you, while fixing a few stray strands of your hair.

You were excitedly nodding at him as a response, eagerness was shown through your huge grin. "I would love to!" You quickly cleared your throat as an attempt to hide a little bit of your excitement towards his offer for your first date. Crossing your arms, you toned down the cheery tone of your voice to rephrase your words.

"Yes, that sounds like a really good idea. I figured that we could also use another round of fun after the date, hm?" You smirked at him after your last sentence and looked for a reaction.

With a smirk mirroring yours, he leaned into your ear to whisper. "Of course. That would make things way more interesting."

#obey me #obey me solomon #solomon x reader

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patricia-von-arundel · 4 years

Text

An Ordinary Life - 1/3

This is a story I’ve been trying to start, and kept getting stymied on and restarting, for a very long time. It’s a simple story, about two people very much in love, who rarely get to exist as others do. Who live lives full of great deeds and great challenges, but have few moments of solitude and peace. Who are extraordinary, but rarely ordinary. So... I wanted to give ordinary to them. To Edelgard, who grieves the ordinary life her siblings never had, and longs for a lazy day. To Byleth, who has only recently learned to want or need anything beyond what is necessary to live. Even if the respite for both of them is brief, it is still just that: a respite.

I wanted it up today for El’s birthday.

I wanted to write it at all for @lysissisyl. Ti amo, cuore mio.

Rating: G (the third part will be very much M-rated, but will only be available on AO3)

Also on AO3

It had been almost a year - almost a year since the war ended, and the true tests of her abilities began. Edelgard had not been so foolish as to believe these tests would be easy ones, but she had failed to grasp the full tedium that they would lay upon her. Day in and day out. Heavier than any armor - and completely lacking in the satisfaction of laying down her weapon at the end of the day.

She had never been much for such work: sitting for hours on end, piles of paper and ink tipping into depleted wells, demands offered in formulaic, formal, flowery tones. Meetings with crusty, entitled men of the ancien regime, who she knew before any discussion began would balk at every word she spoke, regardless of what it might be, simply because of their anger and fear at what she had chosen to represent. Slow work. Tedious work.

Her sisters had teased her about her inability to stand such things, when she was young: “Never get between Edelgard and the door at the end of lessons! Little El will run you right over.” She had usually been the first out, running for afternoon freedom in the outdoors. Even restricted from going alone outside the palace grounds, there was far more adventure eto be found than would ever be contained in arithmetic or penmanship.

She had outgrown such childish displays of her feelings, of course, but not out of the feelings themselves. Still - always - she would do what was necessary. It was not for her own education, now - it was for every person in Fódlan.

But the tedium wasn’t the only thing she had to fight to keep her mind on the endless work:

There was also the abence in her heart, and in the empty bed she attempted restless sleep in each night.

Byleth had been gone for almost a month. Twenty-six days. Edelgard had no choice but to keep count; her subconscious mind would make certain of it, even if her conscious mind chose not to. Each time Byleth had left, it seemed the pain and fear could grow no greater - her body could contain no more - but with every day that passed, somehow, it did. This, though, was the longest it had been - and the fear was ever-present. She even dreams of it: nightmares of all those years Byleth had been gone. Nightmares of seeing her collapse, there at what had been greatest victory, and listening desperately, endlessly for a heartbeat that never came. And nightmares of now: only a still, silent body coming home; a shroud in the back of a wagon. or there being no body to bring home at all and, this time, no hope of future reunion. Like a child, she woke at times to damp, silent tears on her cheeks.

She understood the importance of what Byleth was doing - the fact that both Byleth and Hubert had been willing to leave her side spoke quite clearly of that importance. And their talents had not been wasted: the ongoing fight against the darkest enemies of Fódlan was going well. Many of their scattered nests had already been cleansed of vermin.

But they were not all found - and Byleth’s skills in hunting them out rivaled her skills with a sword. It made sense for her to go. But that did not mean Edelgard felt any less fear - or any less frustration that she could not be out there as well.

Twenty-six days: that was how long it took for her fears to be realized. Twenty-six days, until the door to her prison opened with nary a knock or a warning, and she saw that Hubert had finally returned.

Alone.

The unkempt nature of his appearance would have been more than enough to alert her that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin, and the half-healed remains of a nasty cut across one cheek. He still wore riding clothes, when he almost always insisted on bathing and dressing more formally before coming to see her upon his returns.

But it was the glimpse of the pain in his eyes - seen only for the briefest second, before he dipped into a bow before her - that seemed to slam into her chest, hard as a fist.

“Lady Edelgard, I -”

“Where is she?” She could hear it in her voice - the terror. For once, she did not care. She pushed up from the desk. The pen she had been using had already begun to leave a spreading stain across the letter beneath it. She did not care about that, either. “Tell me immediately - where she is, and what happened.”

Hubert straightened again. There was some new measure of composure to his face, now that orders had been given. He offered her a curt nod. “She is near. We thought it best not to bring her any farther than was necessary to make certain we were not being followed.”

Edelgard gave a nod of her own. She wondered if it might be possible to hear the hammering of her frantic heart. Still, she had slipped on her own mask of composure - across her face, and in her voice when she said, “Tell me what happened on the way, then.”

“Of course. The horses are already waiting.”

A surprise attack, he said - an ambush from behind, when by all accounts, including his own, the area had already been cleared. Edelgard knew well such ambushes - the strange spells and dark knowledge possessed by their enemies meant such occurrences were all but inevitable. Unfortunately, the same means made preparing for such an attack impossible. They had certainly tried many times over.

And because of that...

Edelgard’s hands clenched around the reins within them. She resisted the urge to kick her horse into a gallop. She wished they could have flown instead.

Byleth had not faltered in the battle - she had had no chance to. “They clearly targeted her first,” Hubert said. Edelgard did not doubt it was true: they had not been secretive about the elite warriors being sent to wipe out their foes. And this was her doing - Hubert had wanted to keep their plans as quiet as possible, but she had felt the need to grandstand. She had wanted their enemies to know who was coming for them. For what seemed now shameful, selfish, petty reasons, she had wanted this: she had hoped to make them feel afraid. As they had once made her feel afraid.

They hadn’t targeted Byleth by chance, or even as an attempt to bring down a command of the Imperial Army.

They had targeted her as the woman Edelgard loved. Because she had not served the purpose for which they had created her. Because she had announced, loudly and openly, that the finest members of her army were coming to smoke them from their burrows and caves and rat-holes.

Which meant she bore some - perhaps most - of the blame for what had happened.

“We could not see to her injuries until the battle was won,” Hubert said. “For that, Lady Edelgard, I offer my humblest apologies. She was able still to fight, and it seemed the spell might not have caused serious injury, so I deemed it safer not to put the healers at risk to see to her immediately.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. IF he heard the tension that had returned to her voice - and the guilt, heavy and pulsing, within it - he gave no sign.

“That is why I must ask your apology. That decision proved an ill-fated one. The magic worked as a venom might, it seems - slowly coursing through the veins, and just as slowly making its nefarious presence fully known. After the battle, she finally fell.”

In her mind, as cold and unyielding as a vise, Edelgard could now see it. As she had already, almost a yar ago, seen Byleth collapse. Only this time, Edelgard had not been able to rush to her side - and now, foolish as it was, it only added another sting to the swarm of her guilt.

“The healers,” she said. “Were they able to...?”

Hubert nodded. “The magic was purged. But it had done as intended - it will be some time before she is fully recovered.”

Recovered. The question Edelgard had been desperate to ask, and equally determined not to do so - not yet - since the moment Hubert had appeared in her study: Will she recover? The relief of the answer washed over her, almost strong enough to cast aside the fear, the pernicious guilt. Almost - but not quite. Not yet.

“Here,” Hubert said - veering off the road, into the tangled darkness of the wood through which they were traveling. “A hunting cabin. One of the soldiers offered its use.”

She would see to it he was thanked - later. Adding it silently to the endless list of tasks in her mind. Thanks both for the use, and for the safety of it. They had to travel deep into the forest to find it - there would be no chance of their enemies, or anyone else, just happening to stumble upon it. Here, until she recovered - recovered! - Byleth would be safe.

And more so now, because Edelgard had no intention of leaving the place until that recover she was sure was complete. She could not undo what had already been done, but she could make damned sure no further harm was caused. Perhaps it would in some very small way make up for her negligence allowing Byleth to be in such a state in the first place.

The cabin was small, utilitarian - almost primitive in appearance. It sat in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by forest. The walls were wood, grey and weathered with age, and clearly even from a distance left unchinked. The small windows had waxed paper in them, not glass. There was a shed for horses, a rough-hewn box and an axe for firewood - and that was all.

No place Edelgard would want to call home. But for a place to hide someone now known all across Fódlan? It was perfect.

“Take me to her.”

Hubert bowed only his head, this time. “Of course, Lady Edelgard.”

There were three rooms inside - tiny ones, with no doors in the doorways and very little besides the necessities for brief stays: a large fireplace - already lit, though the place retained a chilly, damp, stale kind of air - and a table and chairs, as rough as the walls, in the main room. To the left, what seemed a storage room and cooking space; she could see crates and barrels and a stove with a precariously-crooked pipe. At the far end of the main room -

The bedroom.

She did not wait for Hubert. And she did not attempt to hide her hurry.

There were two beds - one large, the other smaller, tucked under one of the papered windows. A small chest in one corner. And that was all.

Byleth was in the smaller bed.

Edelgard’s breath caught.

She had seen Byleth very still. While she was listening to someone. While she was searching for something - a target. An enemy.

But she was not still in sleep - not at all. That was something Edelgard had had to grow accustomed to, in the first sweet nights they had shared a bed with one another. Byleth was a restless sleeper.

There was no restlessness to her now.

Edelgard crossed the room to her. Hubert was still without - giving them this moment alone. For that, Edelgard was grateful. Her fragile composure seemed likely at any moment to shatter.

Byleth was like a corpse - that was the only description that came to mind. Not only too still: too pale, too small, too... depleted. Drained of life, of her curious gaze. Simply a thing, now, a child’s doll tucked into bed, but never truly to awaken. They had tucked her in, but only to the waist. And the room was so damp and cold...

Edelgard pulled her gloves off, because that, in the moment, seemed suddenly very important. As did fixing the blankets, as tiny as this was in the face of a much greater, graver situation. She pulled them up, tucking them now around Byleth’s shoulders. Carefully - carefully.

Her skin, at least, felt warm and soft and alive. Edelgard, hands still bare, touched her cheek, brushed hair from her forehead. Byleth showed no reaction - but this close, Edelgard could see the rise and fall of her breath, slow and steady. Inside, her heart would have the same in its beat. Still, Edelgard put her hand there, too. She needed the reassurance of feeling it. The rhythmic strength of it.

“I am sorry, my love.” Words spoken softly. Inadequate words, but all she had to offer.

Back in the main room, Hubert was staring into the flames within the fireplace, his hands folded together behind his back. He did not look up when she entered the room once more.

“It is time for you to return to Enbarr,” she said. “You need to speak with those who know of our current whereabouts. Make it very clear that I expect the location to be kept secret. There will be most severe punishment should anyone allow this information to be made public. Tell Ferdinand he has lead of my affairs until I return. I ask that you remain available, and serve as my eyes and ears in the capitol. Should anything occur that requires my attention, please come to me at once.”

He offered another bow of his head. “Yes, Lady Edelgard. I shall send a contingent to watch this general area, that you may stay with the professor.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. Not when our enemy will be explicitly aware of our current situation. I alone will remain with Byleth. I assure you, I am more than protection enough, should any attempt to further harm her.”

She knew well the way that Hubert then smiled - thin, and satisfied, and dark. “As you wish. It shall be done as you say. And now, by your leave, I will return to Enbarr.” He hesitated - then looked her, finally, in the eye. “I am sorry I was not able to protect her.”

An unusual softness in his voice - but she could feel the same within herself. “It is the way of war, Hubert. You know that, I know that, and Byleth certainly knows it, as well. You saw her safely to this place. For that, I can only offer my gratitude.”

When he was gone, the tiny place seemed almost colder, and so quiet she could almost feel it, like an ache that settled within her very bones. For what seemed a long time, she could only stand there, hands on the doorframe without a door, as if trapped between two versions of reality: the one she faced, homely but almost, curiously, offering welcome, with the little table before the fire; and the one behind her, that room full of chill and guilt and unnatural stillness.

She wanted to return to that room. To keep vigil, until the beautiful moment it was no longer necessary. But the practical side of her, she knew she must allow to win out - at least for a time. There were matters to attend to: seeing what supplies were available to them. Chopping more firewood, unless there was a store of it somewhere besides the box she had seen outside, and not only what was already burning. Hubert would likely have left one of the horses for her, and she would have to see to its needs as well as her own and, much more importantly, Byleth’s.

The outside tasks first - the day was already growing late, and the night would be even colder than it was at the moment. She attended to the horse, lingering for a few minutes with it there in the shed that served as makeshift stable. A sweet horse - it allowed her to rub its nose, which she thought horses liked. It had never seemed wise, to show much softness around animals, especially those that were likely to be taken to war. Still, she liked them, and there was no one here to see, except Byleth - and Byleth, of course, already knew.

But the thought of Byleth was enough to cease her brief moment of distraction - Byleth in there alone, and the possibility that she might be cold or afraid or uncomfortable, and being unable to say or do anything about it. It was also looking increasingly likely to rain, the sky less darkening from dusk than from ominous, heavy, low-hanging clouds.

The axe - Edelgard collected it, considered it. Was there a method to cutting firewood? It certainly appeared to be done a particular way, considering the general uniformity of the pieces. But - for all her prowess with and preference for the axe as a battle weapon! - if there was such a method, she had no memory of having ever seen it, much less learned it herself.

“Ironic, really,” she murmured - then shrugged. “Well, surely logs will burn regardless of how they might appear...”

Small trees - was that what she was supposed to look for? It seemed unwise to attempt a large one - it would take far too long. And besides, the axe was quite small itself. The trick, then, was to find a small tree.

But that was a trick, indeed - she also was not certain how one was meant to do so. She had never cut firewood, and she had never had to find a small tree. There were no trees at all in the clearing, and all the ones she saw when she ventured into the forest were very large ones. Very, very large ones.

Was she supposed to use one of those? Perhaps she was overestimating the amount of time that it would take. There might be small trees closer to the roads they had traveled earlier, where more sun was available, but she didn’t want to be so far from Byleth unless there was no other choice. And she wouldn’t be able to safely traverse the forest after dark - she had no torch, and it would be too easy to lose her bearings in such unfamiliar territory even if she did have one.

Then - finally! - a stroke of luck: one of the trees had saved her the work of cutting it by at some point downing itself. She could have laughed at her own sudden, ridiculous sense of relief - and at the thought of what Byleth would surely think of it. Of her: an emperor, too ill-prepared to know how to find firewood, and now as happy as a child with a new toy over a fallen tree!

She ignored the thick trunk in favor of the branches - ones that would have been far too high had the tree been standing. They cut easily enough, fortunately, though they certainly weren’t going to win any prize for firewood uniformity. She was reminded of the training grounds at the monastery - the satisfying thunk of her axe against targets. That wood had been softer and less splintery than this, but still, the feeling and sound were much the same.

After that, it was a simple matter of carrying it back to the cabin, being mindful of those splinters. A good thing, the simplicity - the sky had gone from ominous to angry, and there was very little light left to see it. She felt the first drops of rain as she carried back the last of her loads. The box and the overhang of the roof would keep the wood mostly dry, but still, she took more than was likely needed inside, leaving it next to the fireplace.

There were still the supplies to examine, and she knew it best to eat something after all her exertion, but she went to Byleth again first. The stillness, again, was unnerving - but at least it meant she had not kicked and tossed the blankets aside, as she was often wont to do in her sleep. Still, Edelgard adjusted them around her once more. Just in case.

It was almost too dark to see, when she went to examine the barrels and crates in the third tiny room, but it seemed a waste of both wood and time to attempt to light the stove. Besides, the exertion and stress were beginning to catch up with her - she felt the heaviness of them across her back and shoulders, behind her eyes. It had been too long since she’d found time for regular physical training, as she had done when actively taking part in battle. She needed to return to such, when all this was over.

For now, though, she had already exhausted herself, and the dim light cast from the fireplace would have to do.

Someone must have been sent by Hubert for fresh supplies - there were vegetables, eggs, cheese, dried meats... and tea. He had likely stressed it must be the bergamot, and she smiled, just a little bit, to think of the fear he had likely put into some young soldier over tea leaves, of all things. In the barrels, she found potatoes. Many potatoes. She supposed it made sense; potatoes would keep. She had never cooked one herself, but the process seemed likely a simple one.

But not tonight - she could not face the thought of cooking, despite her earlier mental note to eat. Nor the thought of going through the rest of the crates. She was too tired.

And stronger even than her exhaustion - her growing, desperate need to be with the woman that she loved. The one she had allowed to be here, and in such a state. There was no more work demanding her attention now, nothing else necessary before morning came. No paperwork - without the guilt now heavy upon her once more, that would have left her ecstatic - and nothing else to try to accomplish in the gloom of this dark little house.

She wanted to be with Byleth.

The fire was down to embers; there was hardly enough light to see as she undressed, unbuttoning and unfastening mostly by touch and by memory. She had no nightgown - there had been no chance to gather such things, nor would she have wasted the time to do so even if offered a chance - but could manage in her underclothing perfectly well. They had done the same to Byleth - Edelgard left her own clothes next to the neat stack beside the smaller bed, and the pins from her hair as well.

She wanted to get into that smaller bed. To lie close, holding Byleth safe in her arms. It had been too long - far too long.

But she did not. Punishing herself, for her complicity in all of this? Taking the safer route, in case it was not yet advisable for Byleth to be moved? Some combination of both? She could not say, nor did she wish right now to dwell upon it. She needed, desperately, to sleep.

But knowing this was not the same as willing it - a situation she knew almost as well as she knew herself. The room was cold, and even under the blankets, she shivered. She could hear the rain, hard against the paper windows, and distant thunder, drawing ever closer. Such sounds should have been a comfort, helping soothe her, but on this night, they seemed ominous - one more approaching possibility of threat.

She knew what would soothe her. The only thing that would soothe her.

And finally, she gave in to it.

Shivering harder, exposed once more to the frigid air; the heat from the fire, little as it had been, was now gone completely. Padding in bare feet to the other bed; the floor was cold enough to burn. She ignored it all.

“I apologize, my love.” To expose Byleth to the same discomfort was more difficult - but at least it only lasted as long as it took Edelgard to pull back the blankets and gather her carefully up. Lifting slowly. Cradled, finally: that familiar warmth against her, close and tight. “Only a moment, my love, and I’ll have you warm again. She couldn’t seem to stop saying it - as if some part of her needed reminding, as much as she wanted Byleth to hear it: my love, my love, my love.

In her arms, she felt stirring movement.

Edelgard froze.

Brief - it was very brief. Byleth’s head turning - Edelgard could feel it, against her forearm, against her chest. And a voice, rich and heavy with sleep: “...El?”

“Yes.” Her own voice was thick and small, and the words came again: “Yes, my love. I’m here.”

“El...” And then she slipped away again - Edelgard could feel that, too, the relaxation, the heavier breath.

Tucked into bed once more, but Edelgard now close beside her - greater room in his larger bed be damned. The shivering eased, then ceased. The sound of the rain was correct once more. Gentle. Reassuring.

She could feel sleep now, creeping softly upward within her mind. Before it had her entirely, she put her hand - heavy, clumsy with fatigue - where she could again feel the steady beat of a healing heart.

Against the familiar rhythm, Edelgard slept.

#edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth #edeleth #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #tales of the tiny emperor #please excuse the lack of proofreading #i've been trying to finish this for almost 14 hours #and i'm blitzed #i'll proofread tomorrow #but i got it up in time!#it's still el's birthday!#happy birthday el!

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