#its like listening to someone else distant from me talk about a foreign concept

[aminiatureworld]

Steadfast

Characters: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,241

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Premise: He’d always assured you that he wouldn’t change, that he was still the man he was before. And yet how different things were, and how much it hurt to see what had come to pass.

In which the reader sees the changes in Childe

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this request anon! Really from the bottom of my heart thank you. I really liked the concept of this prompt, I feel like it really gave me an opportunity to focus on how relationships change and grow, rather than always writing about new couples, or people just beginning to fall in love, although there is of course that involved. It’s interesting to see how people grow and change, even if it can be a little sad sometimes. Writing this was kind of depressing, I hope that this wasn’t too sad, considering you requested hurt comfort. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away…

Funny story, I actually hate one of the people Childe shares a name with. Look what you did to Cassandra Ajax the Lesser, look what you did… So to make up for this unfortunate coincidence I pronounce the names differently in my mind. Ajax the Lesser is pronounce “A-jack-s” and Childe’s name is pronounced “Ai-axe”.

I decided not to bullet point this, as I feel like it works better in a more “traditional format”, that being said if bullet points are easier to read I can go back and fix that.

When you’d first fallen in love with Ajax it had been before the change.

Back then everything with him had seemed so exciting, like stepping into the sea for the first time. You were a bit afraid, worried that you might be swept away all at once, but another part of you wanted to run straight ahead, to immerse yourself in this new and exciting experience. Wanted to keep going and never look back.

 You’d known Ajax since before you could remember. The two of you had grown up in the same small village, where one could hardly take five steps without bumping into someone, and being close in age had made you automatic playmates. Ajax was a brash child, not always easy to get along with, but impossible to pull away from. Even when he knocked you to the ground, or sat on you so you couldn’t move, declaring himself the winner of whatever you’d been playing, you’d still run to meet him the next day, the tears you’d shed utterly forgotten. Childhood friends might’ve been a cliché, but it was truly then that Ajax as a person had begun to stick in your mind.

This only continued throughout the course of your adolescence. Attending the same schools you two were nearly inseparable, causing you merciless teasing from the rest of your classmates. Ajax apparently got the same treatment, resulting in him decking a kid who declared you two were going to get married when you grew up. He’d been suspended for a few days, but never seemed to regret it, and when you’d gone over to his house to ask about it he’d grinned as usual, proclaiming he’d gladly do it again.

Growing up was a difficult process, so many snags and pitfalls, new anxieties, and old ones that you’d never truly worried about before. But it was all perfectly fine with Ajax there. He was always ready to pick you up, and flash you a smile to go along with his help. No wonder you found yourself hopelessly infatuated him, years of trust and affection building up to the newfound feeling of love.

 And then Ajax went missing.

You still remembered the terror that shocked your system when his mother visited, tone unnervingly light, asking if you and Ajax weren’t playing some type of game. You’d bolted outside when she’d revealed Ajax had gone missing, running towards the woods that was the only exit to the village where you lived. The adults had quickly caught up to you, but your fears had already grabbed hold, and you found yourself confronted with all you felt for him. You loved Ajax. How did this happen? Love was still so foreign, a word you could throw around but never truly catch. And yet you loved him, you loved him very much. And now he was gone.

They didn’t let you see him initially, saying he was tired, he needed rest, he’d be alright in a few days. Your imagination had run wild, your mind spinning a terrible story. Perhaps he’d been mortally wounded, perhaps he could no longer see, made blind from the snow and the cold. Perhaps he wasn’t really back, and they were simply lying to make you happy. These thoughts chased you, and it was only when you saw him again that your heart settled, even if a part of you whispered that Ajax was altogether changed.

He’d begun to leave the village. Though no one quite knew where he was you certainly knew a lot of brawling was involved. He’d sometimes sneak into your house, in a last ditch effort to keep his parents and the rest of his family from finding out how much he’d truly changed. You’d cried sometimes, seeing him with black eyes and bruising, slashes of red marring his hands, his arms, his face. He didn’t like to see you cry, would start scolding you, as if it was some fault of yours to feel worried, to care for someone who already was growing into a stranger. He always realized his fault though, and after a little while he’d pat the spot next to him. You’d sit down, head sometimes on his shoulder, listening as he spun his tales of greatness into the night, as if he were a knight fighting a great dragon and its army, rather than a troubled new adult with nowhere to turn to in terms of understanding.

 When he’d ask you to be his partner you thought you’d never feel unhappy again. You felt like you were on air, kept grounded only by his arms around you, his heart beating steadily against your ear as you nestled against his chest. You could tell he was happy too, and though it amazed you slightly that he should be as in love with you as you were with him, you could only thank the Tsaritsa and every other archon under the stars, thank them for being so generous as to give you all you ever wanted.

It seemed such a funny thought in retrospect, when it was the Tsaritsa herself who was now tearing him away from you.

 “Ajax, how could you?!” Your voice felt odd to your ears, somehow too thin, distant, as if someone else was saying it. “You knew, you knew that you’d have to join the Fatui. So why, why in the name of the Seven did you start that fight!”

“They were asking for it!” Ajax’s voice was just as raw, frustration mixed with something unknown. Entitlement perhaps, fear otherwise. “You should’ve heard the things they said about me, about my family. How they’d raised a good for nothing thief, a shithead who knew nothing more than how to swing a sword, and who would one day meet someone bigger than him, and die in the street, given to the rats, utterly forgotten. I had to prove them wrong! It was a matter of honor!”

“It was a matter of ego!” You cried, feeling the ground spin slightly underneath you. “How could you let them goad you like that Ajax, goad you when you knew exactly what was going to happen.” Sitting down you put your head in your hands. The world was shattering around you, and there was no one to blame for it except the one you loved the most.

“My darling, please, I don’t want to fight.” Ajax knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his as you raised your head to face him.

“You always want to fight…” you replied, voice hoarse, pitched barely above a whisper. “And now you’re leaving, leaving to be part of an organization of cowardliness and deceit. What happened to the adventures you were going to have? What happened to the dragons you were going to slay?”

“I’ll get them yet.” There was amusement in Ajax’s voice, but it was clearly forced, and soon forgotten about. “I promise it’ll be alright, my darling I would never do anything to knowingly hurt you.”

And yet you have, you thought. You’ve run a dagger through my heart, and now your talking to me as if I’m not being destroyed by it. It hurts, it hurts so damn much.

“You’re going away.” You finally replied. “You’re going away to a place that will only destroy you more. And now things will never be the same again. Haven’t you wondered about what will happen to you there? If you’ll ever be allowed to return home? Haven’t you wondered whether or not you’ll ever see your family again? Things will never be the same again Ajax, never. You’ve crossed the chasm, and now you cannot return.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Ajax placed a hand on your cheek. “I promise nothing will change. I will always be myself my darling. This is only a stepping stone, a piece of my journey. I promise, I promise I will always remain as I am. And I’ll never forget about you, nor my family, nor this village. Nothing is going to change. I’ll make sure it won’t. So stop crying my darling; tears never looked good on you anyways.”

And yet, how things have already changed. Still, you said nothing, instead wiping your eyes and pressing your forehead against Ajax’s. His familiar presence was reassuring, and you thought of the years ahead of you, perhaps the eternity ahead of you, when you could no longer rely on him being there. Your eyes welled with tears again, and this time you made no move to stop them. You let yourself cry. If there was anything in the world worth crying about, surely this was one of those things.

 There was a new name signed in Ajax’s letters. “Childe” was the first name, “Tartaglia” was the second. They seemed to mar the page somewhat, written in Ajax’s – no, Childe’s – bold, slashing script. You hated the names, hated the memories they stirred up, reminders of all you’d lost in such a small amount of time.

The day you’d found out Childe was to become a Harbinger you’d raged as you’d never raged before. Locking yourself in the small apartment you’d managed to find – having moved out of Morepesok once the memories had become too oppressive – you’d spent most of your time reading the letter over and over and over.

He’d wanted you to attended, writing you were basically his family at this point, and besides, he wanted to show you to the Tsaritsa. Though the line about family filled your heart with no little affection, you’d refused flat out. It would’ve been too painful, seeing the crux of his transformation; the death of Ajax, the birth of Tartaglia. Childe had said nothing to your refusal, but he was clearly worried, and for a while afterwards the letters were more frequent. But even that stopped after a while, and now you savored what little information you could get, the torn pages of last month’s note a testimony to how much you reread them.

You wished that you could somehow end this purgatory you’d found yourself in. Though you’d begun your own career by now, pushing yourself to your limits as you were sure Childe was doing in his, nothing seemed so important as the drama that had comprised your entire life. How long had you known Childe? You could no longer remember. Long ago, so very long ago. Back when the world was simpler, comprised only of candy from one of the big cities, and fighting over the best fishing rod. Tears were shed over particularly brutal games of tag, then forgotten the next day. How odd that world seemed now, something you could never go back to.

 Every once in a while you’d be met not by a letter, but by a visit. Those were the best days. The days where you could set all your worries and your unease away. When you could once more press your ear against Childe’s chest and feel the steady beating of his heart. As long as you could do that, maybe it’d be alright.

“How’s my darling?” Childe’s voice carried down the hall of your apartment. You’d dropped the letter you’d been reading, his letter, and ran towards the entrance. Throwing yourself in his arms you wept tears of joy. Childe returned the embrace just as enthusiastically, though his eyes were dry. They’d changed, his eyes, or perhaps you’d just learned to notice the hardness that resided in them. “I’m home.” Childe murmured, eyes closed, expression one of perfect bliss. “Don’t worry beloved, I’m home.”

His presence never left yours the days he came to visit. Always there was an arm slung around your waist, or a chin resting on your shoulder or your head. His presence was as comforting as ever, and you soaked it in gladly. He’d changed. Not that you were surprised by that, of course he’d changed. His confidence was much more calculated, his words now slicked with flattery and deceit. He easily persuaded the fishmonger to give you a discount, and some sweet talk with the waiter at a café you frequented earned you a free lemon loaf. You took it, knowing that he just wanted to treat you, but the sugary confection stuck to the roof of your mouth, which had somehow developed a bitter taste.

You said nothing about it. There was no longer any point in arguing. You two were tied together by all sorts of strings. History, location, youth, love. And yet you’d gone your own separate ways. No more were the dreams of adventuring together. The real world had come along and stolen it away. The Tsaritsa had ripped that future from your grasp, and with it went your happiness.

“Are you happy, my love?” Childe asked late one evening. You were cuddled on the small couch in what comprised your living room. You nestled against Childe, breathing him in. Were you happy? No. But in that moment you weren’t unhappy either. In that moment you could forget it all.

“Do you think that sailors feel lonely?” You asked instead, drawing circles absentmindedly on the palms of Childe’s hands. He wore gloves now, expensive ones, not like the mittens that were popular in Snezhnaya. It was so odd to watch him put them on each morning. How things had changed. “They must be lonely,” you continued now, “for there’s nothing but the ship, the water, and the stars above.”

Childe paused, staring off into the distance. He did that a lot recently. You didn’t begrudge him it. Sometimes, when he was in a frank sort of mood, he admitted that he didn’t like the Fatui’s underhanded nature. Better to fight something head on than attack from the shadows. He’d quickly added on that it was the Tsaritsa’s wish, and surely she must know better than him. But it must’ve been difficult, following a path so different than the one you were born to. Betraying your nature, every day of your life.

“It must be lonely sometimes.” He finally replied, glancing back at you. “But I don’t think they’re lonely, no. The stars may be far away, but they’re steadfast, unchanging. And sailors will always be able to rely on them.” You were silent, considering his views.

“Still... stars are so very cold.”

“Perhaps, but they’re also beautiful, are they not? And like I said, who ever heard of a star changing?” A pause, as it seemed Childe was steadying himself, dipping into unpleasant territory. “I hope I will always be your star, my love. I hope you will always be able to rely on me.”

“I will.” You promised, giving Childe a quick kiss. You meant it, even if you weren’t sure that the metaphor was apt. Childe was forever changing; his mannerisms, his name, his location, his words. Sometimes it seemed as if there was nothing left of Ajax, nothing but a small sliver of light, shivering in the darkness that was fate.

“And I will always remained steadfast in my love for you.” Childe promised in return. “For there is nothing more important to me than family, and you are my family. You are that which I hold closest to my heart, and I’ll never stop loving you. I promise.”

His words were smoother than they had been before, polished by the need to be appealing to those who heard it. But you knew they were true. All throughout your life, throughout the pain, the hardship, the feeling of slowly falling off a cliff, all throughout that the one thing that remained was the love between you and Childe. Even if you had nothing, at least you had that.

“Childe?” He grimaced at the word and you paused. “Ajax,” you began again, “are you happy?”

Childe didn’t reply, instead leaning over to kiss you. You reciprocated it gladly, not truly wanting an answer to your question, although a part of you desperately needed it. Was Childe happy? You couldn’t tell. But despite your newfound hatred for the Tsaritsa, your disdain for the gods which had grown in the years of your hardship, your long abandoned faith, you still prayed to the Seven that Childe was happy. Because he deserved it. Because you loved him.

 You tried not to cry when he left, wanting to see him off with a smile and a wave, the way noble men and women would wave to the knights who were on their way to save the kingdom. But always your voice betrayed you, cracking and shaking, trembling violently against the knowledge that you wouldn’t see your loved one again, not for a very long time.

“Be careful.” You whispered, giving Childe one last hug.

“I will.” He assured you, kissing your forehead. “You be careful as well my love, I couldn’t stand it something were to happen to you. If anything happens, think of me, I’ll rush to your side immediately.”

“Don’t forget to write,” you replied, switching the subject so you didn’t have to think about the implications of Childe abandoning the Fatui, what might happen to him if he tried, “your letters are all I have.”

“I hope that’s not true!” Childe said, tone full of false mirth. “I hope you’re happy beloved, I hope you find happiness when I’m gone. Your life ought not to be spent waiting for me.”

“But you’re all I have.” You replied, staring down at the ground. “Everything has changed. My home, my work, my future. Even you’ve changed, you just keep changing and changing, running farther and farther away. But you’re still all I have. And I have to hold on to you, no matter what.”

Childe brought his hand to your cheek, raising your gaze up.

“I’m not changing my darling. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, I’m still Ajax. I’m still the man who wants to spend his life with you, who wants to travel the world with you, fighting monsters, sleeping under the stars at night. I’m still the man who wants to wake up with you every night and go to bed with you every morning. I’ll never run ahead of you, I’ll never leave you behind. Because if I’m all you have then you are what keeps me myself. You are why I can still be Ajax. And that will never change. So don’t despair, and don’t let yourself be swallowed up while I’m gone. Live your life to the fullest, I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for when you need me.”

 Childe waved from the ship he’d boarded until it disappeared over the horizon. You waved back, even as your arm ached and your hand fell asleep. “Goodbye.” You whispered to the wind. There was no reply, but then again you weren’t looking for one.

Childe, Ajax, Tartaglia. These names all belonged to the one you loved. He was a whirlwind, a rogue current which had knocked you off your feet, carrying you into uncertainty. And yet you welcomed him, longed for him, loved him with all your soul.

Even if things kept changing, even if the Fatui’s hold on him only grew stronger, you’d still believe in him. He was your star, guiding you through a desolate ocean. Even if he sometimes disappeared behind the clouds, he’d always be there. You had to believe that, had to trust him.

He was your star after all.

Your Childe.

Your Ajax.

#If you really want to feel down look up the lyrics to “Dear You” and have it on as you read #For some reason the Higurashi soundtrack really fits this fic #I realize there’s a lot of crying in this I hope it’s not too much #childe #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #oneshot #my writing

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Four: Running out of Time

Hi all. Hope you are enjoying. This covers day five of Whumptober: Rescue, On the Run, and Where do you think you're going?

Chapter Five: Honey Bear and Tony to the Rescue

Winter, 2017. Hours into Kidnapping.

He stumbled into a car waiting outside the door. Someone caught the top of his head from hitting the door frame and guided him into a seat. His head rolled back in exhaustion. The side of his neck, burnt and sore, was exposed to the warm air in the car. It prickled at the burns but Peter didn’t try to move away.

“Jesus, Tony. Why the hell do you have a kid with you? And what did you do to him? These are serious burns.”

“It’s a rescue! I couldn’t leave him there. Do you see how young he is?” 



Peter could feel the eyes resting on his frame. His eyes flickered to the seat in front of him where a man was observing him before falling to look out the window. Away from his cell and that place he was untethered. The tiny world he’d become used to, the one he expected to see every morning when he opened his arms, was gone. In place there were leather seats underneath him in an impossibly nice car. There were two men staring at him.

They talked between themselves. There was an insistent, familiar tone in their words that Peter hadn’t witnessed in a long time. They made no effort to calm their voices or lower them for his benefit and the anger underlying their greeting was eclipsed by warmth. It was almost pleasant to sit there and listen as they debated what to do next. If they weren’t trying to factor in his unexpected presence that is.

“Fine, Tone. We can’t sit here and argue the whole night. Let’s go.”

Someone in the front put the car in drive. Peter sat up. His muscles coiled tight. He reached for the door before fisting his hands and clenching them in his lap. His inaction had been too long.

“I need to go back.” He said, eyes darting between the men. Maybe he could persuade him but there was no leeway the face from the man in the cell so he turned to the new person. “Please, I shouldn’t be here. You can’t let this …. I’m being kidnapped… I… Ross!” He finally settled on the name that would stir fear into anyone. “Ross knows. He’ll find me.”

“Fuck him!” His kidnapper snapped and crossed his arms. The other man stared at him for a moment, his eyes softened for a moment before he turned to the cell man. Maybe he was imagining things now. They were conversing in that way old friends did. Their words flowed in silence, moving between their eyes. Every second it went on, the car got farther away. Peter couldn’t see the building anymore. He didn’t know where they were.

Finally, the connection broke. The man from the cell opened a compartment under the seat and pulled out a cell phone. He settled back into the seat and began typing not acknowledging Peter’s outburst.

The car sped away taking all semblance of time away. It spun out of control. He couldn’t tell if hours passed or seconds as the wheels spun. The man, his captor, exuded a willful ignorance. He didn’t care that he had kidnapped Peter; that Peter didn’t want to leave that place. It was only under the dim lights of the car the man began to relax. His tense form slumping against the seat until he was nearly as boneless as Peter. Who was he? Why did he get to relax when Peter was as tense as he’d ever been and no one was answering him?

A hand touched his knee and Peter flinched back. The new man rested his hand there and then pulled back once he saw Peter knew he wasn’t going to hurt him.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Look, please…”



“It will all be okay. Whatever it is you think you deserve, whatever happened, we can figure it out but I need to be sure.”


His wide eyes told no lies but they also held no room for argument. Their expression reminded him of May. The back of his throat closed at the thought. He licked his lips and looked away to hid his discomfort.

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

The man nodded and his eyes flickered over to the man on the cell phone who just continued typing.

“My name is James Rhodes but you can call me Rhodey.”

“Or Honey Bear if he’s angry.”  The other man side with a smirk. He winked at Peter paying no attention to the sigh coming from his friend and went back to his phone.

“Just wait until you see me angry.”

Despite everything Peter felt the beginnings of a smile on his face at their banter.

“This is Tony and you’ll have to forgive his egregious manners. I mean kidnapping? Really Tony?”

The man, Tony he reminded himself, huffed but didn’t look the least bit bothered. In fact, Peter was sure he was the beginning of something, pride maybe, at the thought of his new rap sheet. The two talked of plans and locations, all undecipherable to him. Still, he listened with rapt attention trying to find out any bit of information he could.

Peter felt the wheels turning underneath them and decided that time was slowing in this strange, little world they were in. The three of them in the back of some car. Two friends, one stranger. Two inmates, one free. Three people thrown together and he was the odd man out. To their credit he didn’t feel excluded. They sort of enveloped him. Their eyes flitted over to him to make sure he was listening. The conversation kept him from getting bogged down with thoughts on his mind and Peter found himself nodding to the occasional question.

He decided that this whole situation was like Schrodinger’s cat. He didn’t know where he was going or who they were and once they left the car anything could happen. He could assume the best and worst outcomes at the same time. Strange but it seemed either was possible. He deserved the worse and if it was better, he could go back to that place. His stomach dropped. Somehow the thought wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be.

The car entered an underground garage. They drove down and wove through various levels until, after presenting a badge to some tough looking security, they parked in a walled off section separate from the others. It was a bit anticlimactic to be honest. Peter expected a highspeed road chase when they escaped.

“Let’s go.” James Rhodes said.

Peter’s head pounded from earlier. It was difficult to keep track of what turns they made and the stairs they took. Some they walked up and others they went down. He managed to keep track of the two left turns and one flight of stairs up when they finally stopped at their final destination. Rhodes scanned something against the wall, though Peter could see no markings on the wall.

The room beyond the corridor was humble in space and as of the ‘90s it would have been considered in style. The base furniture all looked high end but there were touches of teenager spread throughout. Peter spied a fun phone in the corner in the shape of a faded burger and a deflated bundle of plastic shoved in the corner that in another life was a seat. Fake fruit was in three different bowls scattered around the room. The whole effect was of a room of two times. The air was stale but lacked that distance he normally read in new spaces. He circled the room noticing the picture frames, some featuring Tony and Rhodes. The cushions had divots in the middle with fabric frayed on the edges. Peter could see the scuff marks on the corners of the walls leading into an unlit hallway.

He liked it.

“Alright there, Peter?”

Tony was observing him from the counter in the kitchen. The man looked at home lounging against the island and why wouldn’t he be? Everything indicated he spent time here in the past. The air thickened with the question and the outside world pushed in. Time sped up, piled higher as it fell, as Peter thought of what was happening outside.

It was almost a foreign concept. In the past he had made the outside world distant by forgetting about it. The memories were too tempting so he forced himself to stop thinking of his life. Of his family. But in the process of shunning that part of himself, Peter ignored everyone else’s life as well. Maybe that was why he assumed Tony was no more than an apparition at first? Here in this room he couldn’t ignore the past. Peter ran his hand across a pillow on the couch trying to straighten its fabric.

The couch was the same color as the couch in his old apartment. It was a puke green that May loved so much. They spent weekends cuddled up on the couch watching TV together. He was sure after all this time there was popcorn and snacks forgotten in the cracks. It was the same couch he’d woken cold and numb pressed against on the floor. The same one with blood splatter ruining the color with dark red. He turned away and shrugged.

He wished he was back in his cell, forgotten and forgetting.

“You should take me back, Sir.” His back faced Tony so he missed the wince cross the man’s face.

“I can’t do that. No matter what you think it was wrong for you to be there.”

Peter shrugged again and the man sighed. He tried to hand Peter a glass but his hand was shaking too much to grab it.

“Alright, it’s been a long day. Let me show you to your room. Unless you’re hungry? No, I didn’t think so. Well, there’s food in the kitchen if you need anything.”

-

The air sparked with tension. Peter followed Tony down the hall and fought the urge to look into the rooms as they passed. One door was open and he saw Rhodes sitting at a desk behind a computer.

“Kid, needs to sleep. I’m giving him the blue room.”

“We’ll talk later. Sleep well, Peter.” The man responded with a smile. Peter nodded but kept his face blank.

The room was plain and simple. There was another picture frame on the tall dresser but he didn’t take the time to study it. He sat on the edge of the bed and focused on Tony who was lingering in the doorway. The man ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something before leaving. The bedding was a dark blue color. Worn and cool to his touch. His eyes landed on the balcony covered by drapes in his perusal of the room.

“Shouldn’t go out there tonight but in a couple days it should be safe enough.” Tony was back, carrying something in his hand. He hesitated but walked five steps over to him and sat on the end of the bed. Far enough that Peter could breathe evenly.

He carried various first aid bits and for a moment Peter was on the fire escape. May was about to take off his mask and disinfect his wounds.

“I am sorry about the burn.” Tony said as he brought out the supplies. “I needed to stop them from tracking you and there was no time. Still,” He said and reflexively winced as Peter did. “I’m sorry.”

Peter shrugged. His neck throbbed as the man began dabbing it. He hated to compare but Tony was almost more tender with May. At least in the beginning. When he first became Spiderman, she was frustrated he’d been hurt again or frantic and would try to do everything at once. It took time for her to accept his propensity for flying around the city in spandex and how that habit would get him hurt from time to time.

“Must not have been as deep as I thought, a lot of the tissue isn’t burned too badly.” 


Peter froze. He nodded and forced himself to breath out so Tony wouldn’t notice. That was another one of May and his rules: don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know he was different. Ross knew but that was okay because by that point he deserved it. Tony didn’t and couldn’t know because something bad could happen. He shrugged again jarring the hand disinfecting the burn. He would hide his neck until it was feasible it was healed.

“That’s the best I can do for now. Here are some pain relievers and I’ll get you a glass of water. We’ll have to change the wrappings again. Burns can get infected easily.” 



He came back from the bathroom and Peter drank deeply. Exhaustion hit him. All of the events of the day came rushing back to him. He’d been kidnapped by this stranger in front of him and now he was offering to change Peter’s band aids like he wasn’t the one who gave him the wound. The anger was there, itching under his skin but not as much as he thought. Peter couldn’t summon the strength to do anything besides stare.

“If you need anything, I most likely won’t be sleeping so you can come get me and Rhodey. Anything you need… And, well, I’m not really sorry about the whole kidnapping thing but I’m here for what it’s worth.”

Peter stared at the man with a scrunched brow. Tony was almost blushing. He shrugged with a smile and closed the door behind him. Peter just continued to stare at the closed door. Maybe he would come back in, guns blazing, and demand action. Maybe he would act like a kidnapper would instead of like a concerned adult.

Peter got up and paced the room before shoving the curtains aside. He unlatched the door and tried to open it but it wouldn’t move. There was some type of invisible lock like the one to get into the apartment. He supposed he could break it open but something stopped him. A twinge resounded at the thought of running the room. He didn’t want glass to spread onto the floor or get on the bedspread. It had to be the fatigue, there was no other reason.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said to the empty room.

Peter fell back onto the bed, his back sinking into the mattress.

Time slowed again. What should do was go through all of his options. If he could sift through his next steps, tomorrow would be easier to handle. But his neck burned and his body was heavy on the bed. In these strangers’ apartment staled by time but full of home, Peter fell asleep thinking of the Sunday mornings spent on the couch May swore was olive green.

Thank you!

Next Chapter Six: Dreams

#whumptober2020 #whumptober 2020 #no. 5 #rescue #on the run #where do you think you're going #spiderman #iron man #marvel #avengers #mcu #language #peter parker #tony stark #rhodey #james rhodes #fanfiction #ao3 #marvel fanfiction #spiderson #irondad

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (10/23)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: LONG TIME NO SEE! So, I did nanowrimo 2019, and I worked on my book and NOTHING ELSE. so it's a miracle that i've managed to write this chapter in like two days. I hope you guys enjoy my comeback. hopefully it isn't crap. i very much enjoyed writing this chapter! happy to be back and happy to give you guys some happiness.......

Gendry stood at her doorway, stealing kiss after kiss, Arya’s small smile into each making him feel alive. Regardless of how many times he did it, he never got tired of kissing her - she was joy incarnate for him, a source of light when everything around him was dark. 

“I have to go, they’re going to call a meeting soon,” Gendry said in between kisses. 

“I wonder why. You’re always late,” Arya laughed, pulling on his tie to keep him in place.

“I needed to get you up somehow, wasn’t my fault you kept my head between your legs,” he reminded as Arya giggled, her hand on the back of his neck, almost forcing him to stay. Under any other circumstances, he’d stay and finish the job of that morning, but the time was being pushed. 

“Shut up before someone sees you,” she said, planting one more kiss on his lips, shoving his chest. 

“I’ll be back in like twenty minutes, don’t do anything reckless in the meantime,” he said, fixing up his jacket and tie, trying to seem like he was actually in order. He wasn’t, but it was good to pretend, considering what a mess his life was. Secretly dating royalty was one thing, but also being her bodyguard was another act of ‘you’re a complete dumbass if you think you’re getting away with this’ but hey, he was having fun in the meantime. 

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Arya smirked, and Gendry moved back into her space, kissing her with the depth only the night should ever bring. Her moan was intoxicating to listen to, and it became even harder to pull away. 

“I’m serious, don’t fuck me over,” he said, wrenching himself from her hold and moving down the hallway quickly. 

“I thought I already did that,” she said, and Gendry stopped, looking at her with wide eyes and a shocked expression. She was begging for them to be caught out.

“Oh shut up,” she shot back, watching as a bright smile echoed on her face. It filled him with a joy he couldn’t quite describe. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, waving over his shoulder as he moved down the hall and got into the role of bodyguard he had somewhat forgotten among the night in the sheets of royalty.

 *~*~*

 Arya knew that Gendry was going to be longer than twenty minutes, as she texted Brienne about going to breakfast. By Brienne’s message, it was clear that her twenty minute wait for Gendry would be closer to an hour. So, in the meantime, she organised with Sansa to walk around the palace grounds after they grabbed a quick breakfast. 

On the second floor landing, amongst the construction for the elevator, the sisters walked arm in arm, their legs overlapping as they walked, with Arya’s left leg going far and Sansa’s left crossed in front of Arya’s right. It continued with each leg and each direction. 

With the workers all moving about, the girls just walked back and forth, not really minding the small interruptions. It was funny, as they walked, silence taking them to their phones, it was clear that they were both texting people they couldn’t see. Sansa, with her mystery man (aka, Theon), and Arya, with Gendry. As Gendry sent her a suggestive message, Arya laughed. 

“So…” Sansa said, putting her phone in her pocket. 

“So, what?” Arya said, putting her own in her back pocket.

“Make up sex?” Sansa asked. 

Arya shrugged, “It was good.” 

Sansa stopped, making Arya looked back at her stunned sister. “Wow, just outright admitting it, huh?” Sansa faltered, blinking at Arya. 

“Why shouldn’t I? You asked, and he was very good,” she replied, watching as Jon came up behind Sansa, walking fast and his hand on the button his suit jacket. He was obviously late for a meeting with Robb, if Arya’s money was right. 

“Who was very good?” he asked as he walked past. 

“Your best friend,” Arya called out, to only have Sansa’s fist meet Arya’s ribs. 

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Jon said over his shoulder, continuing on like nothing had ever happened. Arya looked to Sansa, her face still stuck in the constant state of disbelief. Arya shrugged again. 

“I told him, he just didn’t listen.” 

To that, Sansa scoffed. “He’s going to kill you both when he realises.” 

“Sansa, it’s Jon. I could be getting married in front of the twat and he’d think it was a joke. Would take him five years to realise I wasn’t kidding, and still something in the back of his mind would think I was playing a prank on him,” she explained and Sansa gave an agreeing nod. 

“To be fair to him, you’ve made that man paranoid as fuck over the years,” she replied. 

“Good. Made him a good head of security for Robb. Protects the shit out of our brother,” Arya explained, and to that Sansa scoffed.

“I can’t tell if you actually thought about this, or have reasoned it along the way,” Sansa stated, looking Arya over, who only smiled a wicked grin in reply, “you’re a scary, scary woman.” 

“I feel like muffins. You want a muffin?” Arya played off, skipping down the hall and leaving Sansa to shake her head. 

“Don’t forget! Our dress fitting is at four!” she said, raising her voice and Arya raised a thumb in the air.

“I won’t forget.” 

“Pretty sure a guy with a square jaw and dark hair might make you forget,” Sansa called out, and Arya agreed, biting her lip and skipping down the hall, guiding her way towards the business quarters of the palace. 

In Arya’s mind, she had every intention of snatching up Gendry, taking him back to her room and having her way with him. She didn’t care if she had things to do that day, or that he may be required or a possible interruption occurred. She just wanted to have her boyfriend. A foreign concept for her - a significant other was always a rarity in her life. She’d had sex, sure. When she was on exchange, she’d have one night stands and flings with men and women all across Braavos. But boyfriends, or girlfriends, it was always a distant, or nonexistent possibility.

Then Gendry came. He was a possibility, then, a reality, and it still threw her at times. 

By the time she got to the security teams meeting room, they were dispersing, and Arya saw as each member of the security team clapped Gendry on the shoulder, whispering something to him. 

In her stomach, something twisted, that something was wrong but she couldn’t work out what. Part of her, an insecure part, told her it was something to do with Gendry and her, but that couldn’t be. Gendry was a private guy, he wouldn’t brag. Plus, he’d lose his job, not gain attention and congratulations. 

When he was finally left alone, Arya cautiously walked to him, and he perked, smiling to her as she came into his line of sight. She swallowed before she asked the question. 

“What was all that?” 

“They were just giving me a birthday bonus,” he explained, showing off an envelope before he put it into his breast pocket.

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” she asked, and he gave a bashful nod. “You’ve been with us for like a year and a half, how could I have missed this?” she said, and Gendry’s hands went to her waist, bringing her into him, her own arms curling around the small of his back as she pouted. 

“To be fair, when it was my birthday last year, you weren’t too happy with me being around, I didn’t expect you to remember anything about me,” he reminded, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

“But it’s your birthday and I didn’t get you anything!” she said, a worried crease wearing into her brow. Gendry chuckled, his nose brushing her own.

“I mean, this morning was definitely a present for me,” he smirked, and she punched at his chest.

“Fuck you, it was not.” 

“Arry, it’s fine!” he laughed, rubbing at where she punched.

“We’re supposed to be a couple, and I don’t even know my own boyfriend’s birthday. I’m so crap at this,” she cursed, her chin falling to her chest. In a breath, Gendry’s thumb and finger gripped her chin and made her look at him. His eyes were so blue, it made Arya’s heart jump into her throat.

“Arry, it’s fine. I don’t want anything. Being with you is enough for me,” he said, voice low and edging towards something that could make her reckless. The smirk at the corner of his lips confirmed that was what he wanted. 

“Ew, you’re so gross and needy,” she teased.

“I would like to remind you of how you reacted after we had -” 

Arya smacked her hand to his mouth and rose on her toes. “LA LA LA LA! I can’t hear you!” she laughed, and beneath her hand, she felt the breath of his own laughter coming through. It made everything so worthwhile, every time she was nervous or when her heart leapt from its place in her ribcage; the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the smiles and smirks that filled out his face - it was all enough to make everything feel easy. 

For the remainder of the day, they mostly stayed in her room. Although part of her wanted him to ruin every aspect of her room, taint every inch of furniture, Gendry reasoned that getting caught with a princess was something that could risk not only his firing, but kind of treason? To that, they mainly sat on her bed, talking about things that they didn’t know about each other, and watched some movies. 

As well as intermittently kissing each other.

During one boring movie, and the tension too much to bare, Arya climbed into Gendry’s lap, kissing him with all the need she had been holding in since that morning. It wasn’t her fault that she was as horny as anything. He forced it on her by waking her up like that. It was a surprise, and one that kept her wishing for it all day. 

Gendry’s hands were tight in her ass, fingers dangerously close to slipping past and playing with flesh that he was well accustomed to in the morning. Arya moaned into every touch, trying to see what would urge him on. With her hands on his neck, Arya pulled him flush against him, trying to see what would set him off and get the aggressive man that first took her to bed. Instead, her phone went off, making them pull apart briefly.

With a huff, Arya reached for her phone, Gendry moving up to kiss at Arya’s neck. God, why did his lips have to be so soft and inviting? It made concentrating on her texts impossible. She flicked to her message app and found the texts that had interrupted them.

3:02pm - Sansa: you better not be having sex with your guy when we’ve gotta leave

3:03pm - Sansa: get out of his lap, or i will come up there and tape you two 

3:03pm - Sansa: which will be more traumatizing to me than it is to you

“Oh shit, I have to go! I have to get to a dress fitting,” Arya said, pushing herself out of Gendry’s hold and his back met the mattress easily. Arya went through her closet, finding a pair of jeans and shirt that wasn’t ruined from fondling her boyfriend.

“Dress fitting?” Gendry said, and Arya heard the shifting of her bed frame. She stripped her shirt off and pulled her new one on as she collected boots at the foot of the door. There, she saw Gendry standing, trying to fix up his suit. 

“Robb’s wedding. We left the dresses to last minute when we were helping Talisa decide on hers. It was a big disaster at the time,” she explained, pushing a boot on and smacking it to the floor to get the perfect fit. 

“His wedding is in like two months,” he reminded, and Arya nodded in agreement.

“This is very last minute, Gendry.” 

“You need me to drop you off?” he asked, going to stand again, but Arya moved into his space, her second shoe barely on. 

“I’ll go with Sansa and Sandor,” she said, hands on his shoulders, and finally she was able to kick her boot on.

“That guy hates me,” Gendry sighed, and Arya chuckled. 

“He hates everyone that isn’t royal. And even then, the line is a little thin.” She gave a quick kiss to Gendry’s cheek and grabbed a jacket on her chest of drawers. “Bye, love you,” 

“Love you too,” he said a little bewildered, “be safe!” He called out and Arya raced down the stairs to see Sansa waiting by the car. Arya jumped in first, as Sansa unfolded her arms and climbed in after.

“What? I wasn’t allowed to catch you guys in the act?” she asked.

“You interrupted that, thank you very much,” Arya said, getting comfortable in her seat. 

“You guys are just horny.” 

“Can’t deny what’s true.” 

The sisters looked at each other and laughed. 

 *~*~*

 TO GROUP ‘The Ghost Fan Club (Jon fuck off)’ 

3:32pm - Bran: my spotify wrapped dragged me into an alley and beat the shit out of me

3:33pm - Sansa: Which artist got you through your depression?

3:34pm - Bran: Bon Iver

3:34pm - Arya: just the one song?

3:35pm - Bran: 127 hours

3:36pm - Arya: its like your own personal arm caught in between a large rock and a wall

3:36pm - Bran: maybe it was my legs instead

3:38pm - Bran: too soon again?

3:39pm - Theon: did i listen to 10 years of heartache whilst in a happy relationship? You bet

3:40pm - Robb: theon...read the room

3:40pm - Theon: sorry

3:40pm - Theon: thought it was relevant

3:41pm - Sansa: it is sweetie, you’re doing amazing 

 *~*~*

 “Nope,” Arya spat, folding her arms over the monstrosity that was the dress she was currently pinned in.

“It’s the bridesmaid dress, Arya, you have to wear it,” Sansa reminded. 

It was a purple and white mess, sticking out from her waist and going to her knees. It was a mix of tulle and ribbon, that that stars sewed into different sections of it. It was looked like something a child would wear. And it was their bridesmaid dress. Either Talisa had lost her mind or she just wanted to outright torture Arya. Either way, she was succeeding. 

“I won’t go,” Arya tightened her grip on her arms as she remained defiant. 

“You can’t not attend the future king’s wedding,” Sansa reasoned.

“Don’t care. Can’t make me wear this.” 

“But Arya,” Sansa tried to persuade right before her face broke out into a wide grin and she gripped into her knees. She wailed out a laugh, clutching at her stomach as she tried to keep it all in. “I’m sorry, I was trying to keep a straight face for so long!” Arya turned to her, hitching up the dress and kicking at Sansa’s side.

“You asshole!” 

“You were scared though,” Sansa laughed, moving away from Arya, most likely for fear of another attack that would have come if Sansa had stayed close. 

“It’s a nice dress, but what the fuck kinda person would let this slide for a royal wedding?” 

Talisa had come in at the exact moment, putting her bag down and opening her arms up to Sansa. “Oh, don’t worry little one, I would never pick something so awful for my wedding,” she said, embracing Sansa and moving onto Arya. They quickly hugged before Arya stood with her arms crossed again. 

“Where’s the real thing?” Arya huffed. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Sansa confirmed before Talisa ushered in the dress makers. 

“Okay, you two. Go get changed, we need sizes,” she said, and Arya and Sansa were hurried off. 

It wasn’t long after Arya and Sansa were midway through getting changed that they heard a commotion at the front door. Both sisters poked their heads out of their respective dressing rooms to see Ygritte in her workout clothes, gym bags falling to the ground as she rushed inside. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” she yelled, moving towards Talisa, “hey, Tal, practise ran late and I knew I couldn’t be all sweaty,” she said, kissing Talisa’s cheek and rushing back with the seamstresses.

“It’s okay, as long as we get all the measurements figured out, it shouldn’t be a worry,” she yelled as Ygritte went back to her room and waved to the sisters. 

As they were ready, they were called out front for Talisa to inspect the dresses. Arya stood beside Sansa, both of them silently judging the dresses. It wasn’t bad, it was a good judgment! It was an air force blue silk with sky blue undertones of fabric beneath it. It flowed and allowed an ethereal look to those that wore it. On both Stark girls, the colour suited their skin tone, and a bonus for Arya, was the fact that it was Arya’s favourite colour earned Talisa a lot of praise in her book. 

The only thing that Arya didn’t like was the neckline. The silk went into a v-neck, showing off tits for those that had any - a category that Arya wasn’t included in - yet the skin was on the chest was covered by a sheer lace embroidery of leaves and feathers. As Ygritte walked out, pushing down the silk, she grumbled, trying her hardest to adjust the lace front, just as annoyed with it as Arya. 

Talisa clicked her tongue, tilting her head and shaking it once she saw it on the three women that were set to be her bridesmaids. “I’m thinking of leaving the lace out, just have it a plunging v-neck? Thought?” 

“Please,” Ygritte whined, and Talisa giggled, noting it to her seamstress.

“You’re really juggling the whole Olympics, royal engagement thing,” Sansa commented, finally touching the lace front and grimacing as she laid a finger on it. Arya was sure that if Ygritte or Arya hadn’t said a word, she would have grinned and bared it - just to make her future sister in law happy. Arya wasn’t that kind to people’s feelings. 

“Seeing as how your brother-cousin still hasn’t proposed, it isn’t that bad,” Ygritte complained and and the Stark girls groaned. 

“He still hasn’t!? I’m going to kick his ass,” Arya sneered, readying to leave at any moment. 

“I think he’s thinking of stealing Robb’s thunder and doing it at the rehearsal dinner,” Ygritte

“He better,” Sansa mumbled under her breath. Everyone heard it, regardless if she were trying to hide it or not. 

“I don’t want to take away from you two,” Ygritte said as Talisa moved closer to the three. She felt the fabric before she looked up at Ygritte. 

“He’s been waiting too long as it is, so I’ll push him to,” she said, scrunching up her nose as she smiled. 

“Thanks,” Ygritte said back in a quieter voice. 

“And you all look so beautiful,” Talisa said, ending with a sigh, “I’m going to have the perfect wedding.” 

“Yes you are!” Sansa squeaked and brought everyone closer, making them all bind together in a hug that seemed to last an eternity. 

Arya wasn’t too upset if that was what eternity looked like. 

After the last measurements for length and fit were taken, the women all changed, getting back into their clothes and started to head out of the store. As they all gathered their things, Sansa gasped, gripping into Arya’s arm as if she came up with a devilish idea. 

Arya was immediately intrigued. 

“Oh, is Dany coming?” Sansa asked. The women turned to her, before going back to Talisa. Daenerys Targaryen was such a force of nature, so many kingdoms across the seven feared her. Not the Starks, however, as they had so many successful trades and peaceful meetings. When it came time for Dany to rule, she got on with everything and bonded with the kids far quicker than any of them thought on surface level. She even had Tyrion Lannister on her side, a talking point at most functions. 

Sansa and Dany were close, bonding over the years. As Arya was the rebel of the bunch, she’d only had a few conversations with Dany, but they went well. Arya loved her hounds more than anything. They were beasts that were bred to hunt bears, huge dogs that almost towered over her; they fit in well in the north, but Dany loved them and took them north as often as she could. 

“We got word from the Lannisters and the Targaryens, they’re coming,” Talisa confirmed before they all started walking out of the shop and going around to the cars down the street. It wasn’t far, but the journey gave them enough time to gossip slightly. 

“I wanted to see if Dany was bringing her new guy,” Sansa said, biting her lip and Arya pounced on her sister, grabbing hold of her arm tightly.

“Is it -” 

“Yep!” Sansa squeaked and Arya dropped her arm, covering her mouth as she stood, astonished at this new revelation.  

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed under her breath as she looked to Sansa for confirmation once more. 

“Who?” Ygritte asked. 

“Khal Drogo,” Sansa said

“Fucking Drogo!? The chief of the Dothraki?” Ygritte shouted before covering her mouth, realising her voice was much louder than she once thought. 

“Isn’t he the same guy that throws those wild parties and that your dad wants to drink under the table?” Talisa confirmed, and Arya nodded. 

“Oh dad’s definitely tried. But the Lannisters hate him because of his views of crime and punishment. Heaps of nations are wary of him. But he’s really kind and generous with his people and they mean a lot to him. He’s really big on his culture and educating the masses,” she explained as they all walked down the street. They had a few scattered security guards walking across the opposite street, their eyes on the royals and keeping them safe from a distance. 

Sansa bounded forward, taking the confirmation back to the start. “Dany’s had a crush on the guy for years after seeing the video of him at the school opening where they performed the dance to celebrate good fortune and prosperity. They met at a banquet when she went travelling to different nations.” 

“She’s so tiny!” Arya blurted the words that were pressing to the front of her mind. 

Talisa gasped, turning sharply to her. “Arya!” 

“What?! You seen that guy? He’s huge! He’d ruin her,” Arya said, and all of the women laughed.

Sansa leaned down to Arya, so only they two could hear. “You’d know something about that,” she whispered, and Arya jabbed a finger into Sansa’s side. Arya chewed on her lip as she held in a laugh that agreed with Sansa’s statement. 

They got to a car first, to have a few members of the security team come. Arya recognised Sam, who opened the door for Talisa. They all smiled as Talisa waved from the car door. 

“See you later, ladies!” she called out, only for Ygritte to be the car ahead. 

“I’ve got to go meet with some trainers, but I’ll see you two at dinner,” Ygritte said. 

“We’ll kick Jon for you,” Arya offered.

“Hey, that’s my job.” Ygritte smiled and waved the two of them off. As the cars departed, it was only Arya and Sansa left, and with their car at the end of the street, Arya walked past stores and shops that she had ignored the first time they had past. 

When one caught her eye, she yanked Sansa back. 

“Oh! Can we go in here for a sec?” 

“Why?” 

“It’s Gendry’s birthday,” Arya whispered, holding tight to Sansa’s arm. To this, her sister rolled her eyes. 

“Come on, hopeless.”

They walked inside, and Arya looked through the collection, pointing out a few pieces she enjoyed and ones she thought would suit Gendry the most. A lot were discredited by Sansa, only for the pair to agree on one - one that blew them both away. 

Whilst in the shop, Arya couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, like she were being looked at in a greedy way. Her shoulders rolled awkwardly, and something in the pit of her stomach told her something was wrong. 

Before anything could come over it, they bought what they needed to, and left the store, heading back to the palace. 

By the time they were back, Arya forgot the interaction ever happened. 

 *~*~*

 When Arya left Gendry that afternoon, he wasn’t sure what else to do. He checked on security, ran tests and even spoke briefly with Robb. He was very impressed with Arya and how she was handling her new duties, even surprised that she was willingly participating with foundations and community possibilities. Gendry played off, making sure that word ran down the line that Arya worked hard because she cared deeply about her causes. 

In the rest of the time, any time he’d interact with someone new, they’d wish him happy birthday, and he’d have to end the conversations because his mum was calling for the fourth time that hour because she was crying about him getting old. 

As the family dinner came in, Gendry stood at the door waiting. The King was allowed back home  that day, and it was a great gesture of his strength when he was wheeled into the great hall. He gave Gendry a nod as he and the Queen made their way inside and took their seats. 

Soon that followed was Robb and Talisa, who were such deep conversation that they barely took a moment to glance up at him. He didn’t blame them, they were in the midst of organising the most intense day their country had seen in a very long time. Then, Jon was running to keep up with Ygritte who bound towards Gendry, asking him about the warhammer games that they both enjoyed. He didn’t get much into the conversation when Jon took them inside. Bran and Rickon came skidding in on Bran’s wheelchair, testing the traction on the wheels. It honestly surprised Gendry that they didn’t topple over with how hard they came rounding that corner, but they made it inside, cheering about their achievements. 

Sansa came next, so deep on her phone that she didn’t even notice Gendry and ran straight into him. “Oh, gods. I’m sorry!” she apologised. 

“No worries, your highness. Have a great meal,” he replied. 

“I’m sure you did this morning.” She winked before moving off like nothing had ever happened. He had doubts that Arya would tell Sansa about their intimate lives, but he had no doubts that she worked something out all on her own and really just worked things out on her own. He wasn’t sure how, but Sansa was scary good at that kinda thing. 

Then, came Arya who hurried over. He smiled wide as she ran towards him.

“How was the -” he started as Arya took his arm and ran with him in toes. “wow, where are we going?” he said as Arya guided them somewhere. 

“I want somewhere private,” she said, pushing open the doors to the front of the palace and having a moment off to the side. 

“Ah yes, outside is definitely private,” he scoffed. From behind Arya, she took out a small box, it wasn’t that wide, but its contents were unknown to him.

“Shut up, just open it,” she said, pushing the box into his hands. 

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A present.” 

“Arry, I told you -” Arya stopped his words by putting a finger to his lips and made him look at the present that was resting his hands. 

“I know what you told me, but I saw them and thought of you and your mum,” she said, and Gendry opened up the box, seeing a perfect pair of bronze stag cufflinks. Stag heads to be more exact. The bar. A lump formed at the back of his throat. 

“Wow,” he exclaimed. 

“Do you like them?” she asked, eager for a reply.

“Yeah,” he choked, holding a hand to his lips, “they’re proper mint.” He really wasn’t expecting anything, and this floored him. They must have been expensive, and they actually meant something to him. To both of them. 

“You’re so southern born, it’s ridiculous,” Arya giggled. 

“Hey, you’re dating me.” Gendry closed the box and put it in his breast pocket. 

“Yeah, I know,” she teased, dragging his collar down, planting a kiss on his lips. He shut his eyes, falling into her sway and loving every moment she lingered her lips to his own. 

Parting, he smoothed out her hair, and smiled down to her. 

“Go inside,” he said, forehead against hers, nose nudging nose. 

“Don’t be too long out here,” she warned. 

“I’m going on break, have a good dinner,” he said. 

Arya sighed. “I wish you could come.” 

“Someday, maybe,” he gave hope. 

“Love you,” she said, kissing him again. 

“Love you too,” he said, letting her move out of his hands. As she went through the doors, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, that there was something he was missing that was a threat. He was missing something, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it all was. 

There was something off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. 

Instead, he took out a pack of cigarettes and took one between his teeth. He swore to himself that he’d stop a long time ago, but with the twisting feeling in his stomach, he needed something to take the edge off. Anything. 

He sighed, letting it fall to the ground, squashing it under his shoe and moved back inside to take up whatever last minute job he needed to before heading home. 

Well, Arya’s room, then he’d be going home. 

#gendrya #gendrya fic #my fics #got fic #arya x gendry #gendry x arya #chivalry fell on its sword

[kandyrezi]

nothing but a heartache;

fandom: wadanohara and the great blue sea

characters/pairings: tsuribari/stella

summary: “tsuribari wondered why his chest ached painfully everytime he thought of or looked at the pretty yet sullen starfish girl.” | word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of death and drowning.

from a prompt: muse feels a sharp pain in their chest every time they think of their lover (or someone/thing they love)

///

tsuribari has held great distaste for a lot of things the more time that he’s been forced spend around the various people and the sea creatures who aimlessly floated around him, sprouting nothing but nonsense - as if they were mocking him. the annoying noisy places that surrounded him, no matter where he was, the buzzing at the back of his head never seemed to cease. how thickheaded everyone could be, how no one took his words seriously or dismissed him as some insignificant being, how no one appreciated a bit of silence every now and then - or better yet, just not talk at all, sew their mouths shut if he could.

(annoyances. annoyances. annoyances. nothing but.)

he chooses to sit in one of the more secluded areas of the red sea, the wooden building firm against his back as rotting seaweed grew from the sandy ground and engulfed the corners of the decaying white building, until it would inevitably vanish completely and leave nothing behind after a decennial or so. just like everything else in this sea.

stella gently leans her head against his shoulder whilst holding her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her ankles. he notices her occasionally peering at the text inside the book he was reading to her (of two children kidnapped by a cannibalistic witch living in a house constructed of cookies, sweets, and other confectionery), otherwise keeping her gaze on her feet, or away from him, at the very least as to not bother him too much. whilst normally not being too keen on physical contact - even if he barely feels anything - he’d made an exception for one person.

the only one, really, he thinks.

“bookworm, bookworm, i finally get the pun, mwhee-hee! why do you always have your nose stuck in a book, worm?”

tsuribari stops reading out-loud mid-sentence, gaze hardening and fingertips gripping the edges of the cover a bit too harshly. of course sheep, of everyone, had to come taunt him and disturb the peace, yet nothing he’s not used to already. the starfish girl next to him fortunately doesn’t appear deterred in the slightest at the intrusion and continues making herself comfortable against him. the blond boy can only sigh, lowering the book only ever so slightly, barely giving them a glance.

“could you leave? you’re distracting me.”

he thinks they try too hard, no childish insult could aggravate him more than he already was at everything.

well, just about everything.

- : - : - : - : - : -

as long as he could remember, the pretty starfish - equally as apparitional and so unfeeling - girl had been alongside him, ever since when he drowned in the blue-coated sea and she’d been the first to find him. he remembered it vividly. he hated the memory, yet refused to let go of it. he’d woken up in an unknown place, everything had been swimming in front of him, both figuratively and in a very literal sense. a place so unlike of where he had never been to previously.

he could only deduce the fact he was indeed underwater, bleak and cold, something painful piercing through his head that kept him from moving on his own. there was blood in the corners of his vision, small indefinite amounts of it falling in front of him, then immediately merging with the water as it faded into minuscule drops off into the distance – upon letting his fingers graze across his scalp, brushing against something smooth and metallic that was merged with his skin, blood oozing around it as his fingers became coated in it. he flinched from the pain, his breathing felt odd and uneven – he could still breathe, but just barely.

as he began to wiggle his way around, something had moved in the distance, towards him, closer. he saw the tail slowly moving back and forth behind the sea creature, taunting its presence. his uneven breathing grew worse and his lungs felt on fire, he tried to run away, move in any way, but his feet would not allow him to. the figure in the distant grew, the nearer it swam towards him. seaweed tangled around his thighs, keeping him in place even tighter.

the blood flowing from his forehead was no doubt fresh bait for the hungry fish. the young worm boy’s panicking only grew worse at the realization, what he could only imagine being either due to lack of air or extreme anxiety caused by shock, causing him to subconsciously close his eyes and pass out.

(fear.)

it had been quiet when his eyelids slowly opened and he woke again. staring up into the beaming sunlight bathing in the tides of the sea from up above, as the blurred objects merged into a clear image, he realized he was in an entirely different area. coral plants in magenta and leaves bigger than him from earthly-colored plants circled around him as he tried to properly inspect his surroundings while groggily sitting up. still underwater unfortunately, he dully noted. there was now solid ground underneath his feet, rather rocky and not very comfortable to lay on, he decided as he rose onto his knees.

whilst inspecting, he saw that he wasn’t entirely on his own anymore, when he looked at a girl young as himself, in brunette twin-tails held in place with golden starfish and a purple uniform with a skirt, staring back at him. in wonder, perhaps, much like himself.

he sunk his fingers into his knees to stop them from shaking relentlessly. dark irises trailed back and forth, unsure what to focus his attention on with a million inquires running through his head.

“w-who are you?”

the young girl looked away timidly, instead choosing to fiddle with the hem of her skirt for a little while.

when she finally introduced herself as ‘stella’, she spoke so quietly, he tried to tune out the hammering of his heart beating against his chest, instead trying to focus on the sound of her voice. the starfish girl still refused to meet his eyes, not quite sure if she should say anything else.

it was silent between the two for about a minute.

“i took you to a safe place… away from… them.”

her voice was hoarse when she tried to speak at first, like she’s not used to doing so for long periods of time.

his fear subdued when she did though, if only by a little bit. the heart in his chest was still beating rapidly and unevenly (feeling a slight tinge of discomfort, but he felt grateful to be alive, nonetheless). he tried to reach his hand on atop of his forehead. a smooth, metallic item was still impaled through his skull and blood was still leaking from around it, though not as severely as before. thinking about it like that made him grimace, nearly becoming woozy.

after only a moment of hesitation, did he finally decide to give her his own name.

“i’m... tsuribari.”

a couple more minutes passed by in silence, only the sounds of underwater plants swaying left and right, leaves brushing against one another ringing in his ears.

“...i’ve been alone for... a while.” stella explained, though not offering much insight.

but tsuribari thought there wasn’t much of a need to. despite having preferred to spend most of his time in solitude, he knew what made others tick when he learned to observe them from afar.

“i don’t know how i got here... either.” he responded with a worry of his own.

abandoned. just like him.

he had a feeling he wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon. wherever home was anymore and if it even existed.

“...i’m scared.” tsuribari confessed with a slight quiver in his voice.

she didn’t know how to respond. comfort was a foreign concept to the starfish. stella did the only thing she could think of and slowly extended her hand towards his own, gently brushing against his fingers and grasped them, intertwining them together. his nerves had calmed down by then as he allowed her to hold his hand, no longer did he feel the suffocating agony of his throat being tightened from fright. at least he had something - or someone - to confide in.

she almost understood him the same way that he did, expressing her distress and gloom with no needed words, her solemn expression and gestures spoke for themselves.

(fear. reluctant acceptance.)

fingers intertwined as they wandered, stepping on the glistening roads made of rocks, keeping the other from falling down and bonding over the mutual feeling of being thrown away and discarded. he took in the waves of the sea now that the threat of being eaten alive wasn’t looming over him. the waves did seem to get harsher the longer they spent time out there. on land, it would have reminded him of an incoming storm (he held her hand a little tighter, just to be secure). it was a fairly secluded area where nobody would wander to without a reason.

there wasn’t a single fish in sight, other than the occasional whale shark or some other potential predator, when stella had made sure to pull the both of them out of its sight, behind a boulder of rocks big as themselves for cover.

stella told him of the war between the daughters of the sea king for their rightful place as the throne’s next princess, and tsuribari listened with intent. one of them, princess mikotsu, was on the verge of losing and it was only a question of time when the sea would split between the two sisters.

“that... seems unfair.”

stella hummed, in quiet agreement, the boy assumed.

“where will you be going, then?” he decided to ask.

“...the rightful princess.”

tsuribari could only assume that he would have to make his own judgment when the time came for it.

stella appeared just a little less taciturn when talking about something else besides herself, so tsuribari thought of asking her to tell more stories of the kingdom and its residents (a culture he hadn’t even been aware of back on land), and if they were heading somewhere at all.

they came to a sudden halt when - with hardly any warning signs - tsuribari’s legs gave out from underneath him, causing him to collapse and letting his hand slip from her own. his heart was beating rapidly once again, whereas before it was discomforting at worst, this time it felt as if his chest was going to burst at any second. panic welled up inside of him again, not understanding what was wrong with him.

dying. he was dying slowly, agonizing with the pain he was in, he came to the realization as tears threatened to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

blood seeped across his face from the wound of the hook stuck in his forehead, gradually beginning to pool around his eyes, which he could barely keep open. he saw stella kneeling by him, holding onto the sleeves of his shirt, trying to stop him from writhing and shaking.

the waves of the sea still hadn’t calmed down.

he felt cold. so very cold.

“i d-don’t want you to die. please… w-we’ll find help.” stella’s voice quivered. it was the most emotion he’d heard in her voice so far.

he just wished it’d been a different emotion.

(fear. reluctant acceptance. indifference. then...)

he felt his heart stop beating, one last time. it was painful, but he was glad she was the one he was looking at as the last thing before he’d passed out.

he didn’t need to be afraid.

- : - : - : - : - : -

“how cute, the two of you. if only old would let me lean against him, but he just gets mad everytime i touch him, mwheehee~” sheep grins.

tsuribari lifts the book again high enough on purpose to block his vision from the ammonite.

“redirect your infatuation problems towards someone who actually cares.”

it seems to work, when he hears them humming slightly and finally leaving, but not before throwing some more remarks his way.

“how stingy. i won’t interrupt the young lovers’ alone time then~”

he doesn’t much (not in the slightest) like their mocking tone of voice as they said it.

tsuribari sighs quietly.

it’s tranquil again for the time being, as much as it could be in the sea, just between him and his companion. not a lot has changed between the two of them, he thinks, with the exception stella has been noticeably more quiet than before in the blue sea, even towards him. he didn’t mind it however, those types of people were indeed rare. even if her solemn expressions and gestures meant little else to most others, he could read them like a book, her hatred and contempt for this world, much like--

much li--

--his train of thought is interrupted when he feels a weird jolt of pain go directly through where his beating heart is supposed to be. he flinches at the unexpected sting and shifted around a bit in discomfort.

as far he knows, he is supposed to be dead - to put bluntly - and not feel anything, as any corpse should not. maybe it were just some strange side effects that happened after a while of being deceased. it’s been somewhat of a long time, while he’s lost count of the years, he should still know. but he’s felt nothing but dullness all this time, so it would be strange now.

his mind momentarily wanders, and thinks about whether or not anyone else - particularly stella, the starfish still dozing off next to him - felt the same--

--and the same annoying heartache is there again, making him grimace. he places a hand on his chest. he could not even describe it, it felt like very regular pain, like a stomachache. unexpectedly harsh at first, lasting for mere moments then fading off.

“…what’s wrong?” stella asks tiredly after a long pause of silence. he must’ve been ‘acting’ so strange it even woke and drove her to speak. he was reading to her before, up until it seemed she wasn’t listening anymore and had dozed off.

- : - : - : - : - : -

when he had woken up again, there wasn’t anymore pain in his chest.

it was dark, echoing sounds of howling in the distance. he tried to adjust his vision to see what was supposed to be in front of him, though it didn’t seem to accomplish much. only an odd, unprecedented sight continued to stare back. whereas before the gentle radiance of sunlight had gleamed upon him, he couldn’t spot anything remotely resembling something that would be classed as natural light and the blue waves of the sea blending together.

red.

he saw the crimson-colored remains of what might have been the sea he was in previously. everything felt murkier. looking around, he almost began panicking again, when he spotted the familiar sight of his friend. his only friend.

in relief, he began pacing towards her - before stopping abruptly.

whereas before she seemed more timid and struck with grief, he saw something completely new mixed in this time around. lethargy. she seemed to not be bothered in the slightest by their situation.

he deciding to adjust and follow her lead.

even though stella hadn’t given him any particular description of the two potential heiresses of the throne, there was still something peculiar about the fish hovering in the distance, the familiar forlorn look of someone who had been discarded and thrown away - yet she was determined to not let that deter her, the air of excessive importance and bloodthirst for vengeance hung heavily around her.

her eye had been scratched out and the red-rimmed wilts under her eyes suggested she’d been crying heavily.

yet it was still the princess who had... saved him?

he frowned deeply at the fishhook still embedded inside his skull, a dull throbbing around his gaping wound still present. still.

was it really worth living the way he did though, he wondered briefly. would it have simply been better if he had died strung pathetically around that rope, his body being ripped apart by a shark with teeth sharper than a knife. would it have been better to have felt pain only for a few seconds, then passed away quietly, than to continue living in a way that felt like he was stuck between limbo and the afterlife. maybe then, the sea wouldn’t feel so cold, nor his skin so numb.

stella decided to quietly approach him herself, trying to reach and grasp his hand.

except he shook her off this time, instead choosing to look back with a dull, bored look at a new gaze standing in front of him.

he didn’t look whether or not that had hurt her at all. it didn’t matter at that point. he was the one who was hurting the most after all (aside from the princess maybe, from the looks of it).

a pair of ruby-red eyes belonging to a white shark, gazing at him with a knowing, sadistic smile.

(fear. reluctant acceptance. indifference. then antipathy.)

“welcome to the sea of death, little one.”

- : - : - : - : - : -

“…nothing. forget about it.” he says in a bored voice as usual - there’s a tinge of irritation in it than how he normally spoke. would it have been directed towards anybody else, they likely wouldn’t have noticed, but he wonders if stella did. choosing not to even look at her, as he gripped his shirt and tugged at it, hiding the torturous twinge at the center.

the boy tries to shut off his mind for now and focus on his book instead, as he turns away with his entire body, with his back now facing her, not bearing the burden of seeing her crestfallen expression. he doesn’t want to feel the same pain again that he did when he’d woken in the sea and died for the first time all those years ago.

why did he have to suffer, when the others deserved it so much more.

#mogeko #funamusea #watgbs #tsuribari (watgbs) #stella (watgbs) #tsuritella #okegom #dsp #deep-sea prisoner #oounabara to wadanohara #ficlets #tsuribari #stella #wadanohara #sea of death #this is one of my longer fics... #and yes it's also a rewrite of one of my older ones... #gif credit to bandeau on wattpad

[shardclan]

Rebis awoke into darkness. Her body felt foreign to her, but so did the entire physical world. She had no concept of time, other than the sense that she had returned to much the way a child returns to an old home as an adult and feels like a stranger.

The memory of being scattered across time and space was clear, yet she sensed instinctively that she could not have described it if she tried. The experience lived in her magic. In her atoms. In the light that made her.

"--should have stopped her..."

"Rebis made her decision. --cannot protect people from themselves. Focus on getting better."

"I'm not hurt. Not like she is. I just..."

Rebis' body flushed with apprehension. She struggled to open her eyes and see what had happened to Apokathisto, but they were so heavy. She could scarcely move. Was she that exhausted?

Seemingly unaware of her efforts, he went on. "I heard the clan can go back to the Isles."

"It was your first time there wasn't it?"

"Mhm... I felt something. After I touched the stones and pulled Rebis back." His voice lowered so Rebis could barely hear. "Something....her."

Telos paused and finally answered with a sigh. "Lutia had... wrong with the Circle. I didn't want to question you so soon--... can remember anything...?"

"...my chest feeling tight. Lights like a big swarm of mana thieves. And then they all-- ...I have to go back. I have to. I don’t know why."

"I'll see to it...revisit....not without Lutia and Ashes..."

Rebis finally forced her eyes open. She saw Apokathisto first--towering over Telos in a glamour that retained practically all his draconic features, merely on a bipedal frame. The only feature of the usual glamour that remained was a few of his thick platinum braids trailing from behind his horns.

He glanced her way, and mumbled something to Telos. Rebis felt she had barely blinked, but when she opened her eyes again, Apokathisto was gone and Telos was seated over her.

Rebis looked up at her, and saw a face she didn't fully recognize. Telos' expressions in private had always seemed sort of distant and melancholy. Now she glowed with warmth that Rebis had previously only seen when Junior and Jorah were involved.

"You made your announcement," she guessed in a raspy whisper.

Telos nodded. "I did. To more support than I could have ever hoped for."

"Good...You deserve it..."

Rebis looked away, and saw the glimmering shapes of stars all over her skin. She sobbed softly as she pushed magic through her body and saw her fingertips sparking with a rose gold magic that was neither light nor arcane.

"I think I proved my thesis," she sniffled. "What happened to me? What happened to Apokathisto?"

Telos pressed her lips together and leaned back. "I don't know what happened to you while you were out there. But your entire helix system has been permeated with Arcane element. You're producing it naturally, as though you were born Arcane."

"I...switched elements?"

The lines in Telos' face deepened. "No. You're still an acolight." She squeezed her hands together. "You're just...very ill now."

Rebis' eyes wandered blankly toward the ceiling. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and only to stir when she felt Telos' hand touch her cheek. She looked...different, but Rebis couldn't place exactly how. The first question to her mind felt simultaneously like it was crushing her and also weighed nothing at all. "Am I dying?"

"...It's not clear yet." She leaned in, very carefully taking one of Rebis' glittering hands in her own as she tried to explain it as it had been explained to her.

Arcane element wasn't naturally poisonous to light dragons. The elements simply didn't work that way, even when they had affinities and weaknesses to consider. But it was much easier for an acolight to get inundation sickness from arcane element. It was easier for light magic to be warped and altered by arcane magic. All these things were common knowledge, nothing Telos hadn't heard before, and nothing Rebis didn't know very well as an aspiring archmage.

The problem was that none of that held to be the case when it came to a light dragon suddenly producing arcane element from within their own bodies.

Rebis was producing as much arcane magic as light magic, and left unchecked there were only two outcomes: The sudden doubling of her magical production without a similar duplication of her magical capacity would eventually cause her to explode from excess magic buildup, or, the arcane magic would warp her innate light magic. No one knew what that process would look like, but they knew at the end she would either die from insufficient levels of her birth magic, or sublimate into raw magic and cease to exist as a dragon.

For now, the magic was being siphoned, suppressed--anything they could safely do to stop it, they were already doing.

After a long silence, Rebis tearfully whispered. "...But...?"

"Not a but," Telos sighed. "An and... The magic is--Your magic is--" She rubbed at her face, searching for a way to say it. "Whatever happened to you out there and however you got back, you're still producing magic, but something else happened. They're still working on figuring out just what, but the way of it sounded something like your entire body is suffering a form of relativity sickness."

"Relativity sickness...?"

"It's an Arcanite disease that typically follows major quantum-level magics. Lutia had it once, when she moved the Seat. She would hear someone speak to her from right at her bedside and couldn't tell what direction their voice had come from. She had no sense if she was standing, falling, sitting, laying down, or upside down. She couldn't walk in a straight line for nearly a week."

Rebis flexed both her hands, and raised them. "I know where I am in space. My hands are up, right?"

Telos winced, and pushed her hands back to the bed. "Yes they are. But you're not suffering with spatial relativity, Rebis. Yours is...temporal."

Rebis looked at her blankly. That made sense, and didn't. She blinked. The light in the room changed. Apokathisto was at her side, towering and massive and draconic, with the marks of the Circle still charred into him.

"Oh," Rebis whimpered, reaching up to his scaly jaw. "What happened? What have I done to you...?"

He took her hand as delicately as if it were made of butterfly's wings. He had to. His hands were massive and scaly and practically swallowed hers. "I'm alright," he soothed. "I'm just stuck like this is all."

Though it clearly didn't seem to bother him, Rebis immediately started to wail. "What do you mean 'stuck like that'?!"

"I touched the Circle to bring you back. I think it may have...done something to me. I can't feel my magic. I feel something, but it's very far away. My magic is still there according to Ashes, nothing abnormal. He said it's sort of like I was struck by lightning. Numbness." Even with a big guardian face, he managed his usual look of slight embarrassment at being unsure of what to say. "A-anyway. You don't have to cry about it."

She did her best to wipe her face, but by the time she'd taken a deep breath and relaxed back into her bed, she opened her eyes to find Telos looking down at her again almost apologetically. In a different light. A different time.

She licked her lips. "When was Apokathisto here?"

"Five days ago," Telos explained somberly. "He was here when you woke up."

"When did I ask about your announcement?"

"Just now."

Rebis touched a trembling hand to her forehead, and felt fresh tears run from the corners of her eyes into her hair. "Five days to have a single conversation... What kind of queen can I be like that?"

Telos shook her head and wiped Rebis' tears. "That's a talk we can have another time, Rebis."

"We don't have much of a choice!" She covered her eyes, laughing and weeping bitterly but afraid to close her eyes in case she was swept away to some other point in time again.

"I don't know how you're experiencing this, but you are getting better. The temporal jumps you're experiencing are lessening the more we bring the Arcane buildup down. They think they've found something that might be able to work on a more permanent basis."

Rebis sniffed and peeked from behind her hands hopefully.

Telos was far away this time. On the other side of the room, pressed against the back wall. It was Ranti who stood over her, with a circlet and a massive pendant that seemed to be made of white quartz and pale blue quartz respectively.

"I heard from the good queen you want the crown she has offered," Ranti said in her deep, meltingly melodious way. "A noble choice. A sacrificial choice. To what god, I wonder?" She held out the circlet. "Consider deeply, this sacrifice. This crown, should you take it, must grow on your own brow. So long as you wear it, it will cure you. So long as you wear it, it will curse you. The very queen of Arcanites you make this pledge to will be unable to approach you. And so will the Arcanites among her flock whom you pledge to keep when she is gone."

Rebis stared at it, her head vaguely aching from her tears and Ranti's words, which were cryptic on the surface and dangerously blunt if one bothered to listen through her way of speaking.

"It's white celestine," Rebis murmured, feeling her eyes sting fresh. "I will be fit for rule, but a danger to every Arcanite in Aphaster. So long as I wear it."

"So long as you wear it," Ranti assured. She held up the pendant. "This is no crown. And no strange strand of celestine. It is common, and will feed on you enough to keep you present in the present. You may lapse, on some occasion. But you will live among those you love without making you very being a potent venom to them."

Rebis glanced at Telos, and it seemed to her that the lines in the queen's brow had returned deeper than ever. Subtle though it was, she saw Telos shake her head. Whatever she may have wanted Rebis to be, it wasn't this.

But just like Telos, Rebis made her own choice.

The modest circlet rested on her head, and though it was no so quick to grow as its lesser form, Rebis shuddered with the release of some force inside her that she had not even noticed was causing her strain.

As her body greedily embraced the opportunity to rest and her eyelids drooped, she thought she heard Ranti telling Telos not to cry.

#Flight Rising #C: Rebis #C: Telos #c: apokathisto #In which a serious magical malady is explained across five days and Ranti presents a solution on the 7th day #Stars Rising

[stretchjournalemerson]

Because He Prepared Me

By Rachel Lamarre - 

When I woke up on Sunday, the day of graduation, getting ready felt foreign to me. For the past six days, my family and I had been practically living in my grandfather’s hospital room. I wore sweatpants and slippers with my hair swept up into a bun that got increasingly more messy as time went on. Makeup was not even a thought. My grampy was admitted to Beverly Hospital and placed in their intensive care unit after falling off a ladder at work. Yes, at work. He was eighty-seven years old and had yet to retire. My dad says it was the stubborn French Canadian in him and also credits this with what allowed him to fight for recovery as many days as he did. Until Saturday to be exact.

In a short span of about thirty minutes, the bleachers of Hurd Stadium were filled with excited families. Eager students wearing black gowns and individually decorated caps took their seats in folding chairs on the grass. The first person stepping up to the podium to speak was our mayor Mike Cahill. Amid his words of praise and well wishes for the future, the mayor delivered these lines. “Each one of you has people that have been there for you and have helped you when you needed support. These people love you deeply and are truly bursting with pride. If they’re here today, make sure you give them a big hug. If they are not able to be here or are no longer with us, please take a moment to think of them and send them thoughts of love.”

There I was, crying in my seat. I was proud of myself for keeping it together up until this point. My one free hand was used to quickly wipe away tears, while the other was permanently positioned on top of my head to keep my cap from blowing off. I was lucky enough to have been given an aisle seat and tried to face away from the kid next to me. When I turned my head he was giving me a look that was full of judgment and confusion simultaneously. I gave it right back to him, at least the confusion part because he was one of the people I didn't even think would make it to sit in one of these chairs.

Finding my mom among the sea of the crowd filling the stands was impossible, but I wondered if she was crying too. It was easier to find my dad, leaning against the fence, as far away from people as possible. He wasn’t sitting with my mom because she was sitting with her sister. My aunt flew in from Florida to surprise me, thinking it would somehow make up for the fact that she hasn’t kept in touch for years. I had to pretend I was happy to see her. Saying my dad cannot stand her is an understatement. My dad also removed himself from the crowd because he simply did not have the energy to really interact with anyone. His sunglasses successfully covered up how emotionally drained he was and kept me from seeing whether or not he was crying. Regardless, I knew he didn’t want to be there.

I think it started when I was around five, my grandparents took me out to breakfast on Saturday mornings. They bought a blue car seat with pink butterflies to put in the back of their Cadillac Deville and let me bring my babydoll. My pancakes came in the shape of Mickey Mouse and I was allowed to drink chocolate milk.

“How long do you think we’ll do this?” asked my grampy.

Naively, I replied, “Forever,” with no concept of time or change.

“You got it,” he said, pointing a piece of bacon at me.

I stared down at the goosebumps on my bare legs while picking at the white polish on my fingernails. I thought about how messed up it was that one of the most important people in my life didn’t live to see what was arguably my most significant accomplishment to date. I wondered if people on the bleachers noticed me when scanning the rows of seats, questioning why I appeared sad on such a momentous day. Then again, I really didn’t care. The only person out of my entire graduating class to know what had happened was my best friend Rebecca. I so desperately wanted to make eye contact with her. She would’ve smiled at me, telling me she loves me without actually saying the words, and I would have felt instantly better. Unfortunately, Rebecca sat two rows directly behind me because her last name comes after mine in the alphabet. There is no other instance where this fact would matter, but at that moment I despised the inconvenience it caused me.

He put 13 dollars down on the table for my weekly allowance, because that's how old I was. After zipping his maroon jacket and securing his baseball hat, my grampy gave me a hug.

“See you next Saturday,” I said.

“God willing,” he answered.

I don’t remember exactly when it started, but this had now become a thing whenever he would leave.

“Why do you always say that?” I asked.

He paused and looked over my head. “Because at this point you just never know.”

Names were being called, yet with everything going on, they seemed distant. I watched the corresponding students walk across the stage, knowing very well that I would never see the majority of them again. Cheering from the crowd was drowned out by my thoughts and I would only briefly regain presence in the moment when a particularly obnoxious group at the back would use their blow horns. I thought about how over the course of our relationship my grandfather began to talk with more and more uncertainty. We all know we are going to die one day, and I guess you become even more aware of this as you get older. He would never guarantee anything or plan too far in advance, not knowing what the future held for him. I don’t know if it was intentional, but my grampy conditioned me to think this way as well.

We sat in our usual booth, even though it is by the door and forces us to keep our coats on. The pancakes I get are boring, round like everyone else’s, and there’s water in my glass.

“I think I’m going to choose Emerson,” I told him. “It’s my favorite out of all the ones I visited.”

“That’s excellent to hear,” he said, eyes focused on the piece of potato he was poking with his fork.

“I’m going to commute because it’s close enough,” I added, “Which also means we can still do this.”

“We aren’t going to do this once you start college,” he replied, without hesitation.

My silence made him look up from his plate. After studying my face for a moment, he continued.

“That is a new chapter in your life. You’re going to be an adult, you’re going to be busy, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

One of the junior marshals came and stood next to my chair, signaling it was time for my row to approach the stage. I took my steps slowly, relieved that one of the most emotionally complex moments I’ve had to deal with was close to being over. As I ran my hands over the smooth black stair railing and awaited my turn, that little bit of self-doubt that followed me all through high school told me no one would clap when I walked across to get my diploma. But they did, and I could hear them loud and clear. At that moment I felt proud of myself. This emotion was short-lived but intense in its duration.

Losing someone is never easy and anyone who claims to be fully prepared for it is lying. With this being said, removing the taboo and being aware of death can surely ease any grieving when the time comes. I realize now that as I was growing up, my grampy taught me that things don’t last forever. He ingrained in me the arguably unconventional mindset of uncertainty. As it is common for parents to shelter their children from the idea of death, I am grateful this was something my grampy was not afraid of. In a way, he set me up to be more understanding when he died. It was something he would reference every so often and it became quite normal. Learning to embrace impermanence made me cherish every moment I spent with my grampy, not knowing if it would be the last, and I have no regrets.

Being taught that death is inevitable keeps you focused on the now. I never worried about my grampy dying or dreaded the day it would happen, but I remained realistic. I had accepted it was going to be a thing simply because he had accepted it was going to be a thing. I understand now that he always brought it up throughout our time together because he cared about me. My grampy never wanted me to be shocked or inconsolable. He wanted to prevent me from being devastated to the point where I couldn’t continue life as usual, focusing on my goals. I came to the conclusion that my grampy didn’t change the way he lived his life knowing he was eventually going to die, so I shouldn’t let the fact that his death happened change the way I live my life going forward.

After the last name had been called, our class president came and stood in front of us. We were instructed to move our tassels to the other side of our caps.

“The future is ours,” she yelled. “Here’s to the next chapter.”

Then, 350 voices counted down from three and threw their caps into the air. As I watched mine float and listened to the band play, I accepted what was to come with open arms.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Allison, Eitan, and Professor Kovaleski-Byrnes for your feedback and guidance with this project. Thank you to Sarah Sweeney for sharing stories that modeled how to navigate complex emotions and helped me string together my past and present as seamlessly as possible. Lastly, thank you to my grampy, who I miss dearly, for teaching me to accept impermanence and embrace uncertainty.

#family #grandpa #college #comingofage #rachel lamarre #stretch2019

[foundcarcosa]

cxciii.

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? >> I’m not sure. I’ll name six songs I listen to a lot, at any rate: Black Out Days, Phantograms; Emperor’s New Clothes, Panic at the Disco; Power, Kanye West; Noll, kent; Some Time Ago..., Dethklok; No Resurrection, AFI.

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? >> Oh, I don’t know. Stephen King, maybe. But without the opportunity of long conversations with a couple six packs while sitting in rocking chairs by a river, I don’t see why I would bother.

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. >> “Mrs Massey’s real. She leaves pieces of herself. You saw them. So did Mom... and she doesn’t shine.” - Doctor Sleep

4: What do you think about most? >> I don’t think any subject is most prominent.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? >> It was the new router password.

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? >> I usually sleep with some garment or another on. The type of clothing varies with season.

7: What’s your strangest talent? >> None of my skills are strange in my perspective.

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) >> Girls just wanna have fun. [The] boys are back in town.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? >> I’ve had a poem written about me.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? >> I usually play air drums.

11: Do you have any strange phobias? >> No.

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? >> No.

13: What’s your religion? >> I don’t have a religion, because I’m an avowed syncretist (not to mention technically atheist, although it’s not that I don’t ‘believe in God’ so much as that I have an indefinable and constantly shifting concept of the numinous).

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? >> Walking, smoking, looking at stars, getting some fresh air, exploring, being nosy, who knows.

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? >> In front of it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? >> I don’t have one single favourite band. I lost interest in trying.

17: What was the last lie you told? >> I don’t remember.

18: Do you believe in karma? >> I think the original concept of karma is interesting, and the veracity of it doesn’t really matter much to me either way.

19: What does your URL mean? >> It’s a play on “Lost Carcosa”, although its personal meaning is a little beyond that by now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? >> Curiosity. (Yes, it fits both.)

21: Who is your celebrity crush? >> Idris Elba, Matthew McConaughey, Aisha Hinds, Gillian Anderson, David Duchovny, that guy who played Billy on Sirens, that guy with the great smile who hosts Celebrity Ninja Warrior...

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? >> No.

23: How do you vent your anger? >> I prefer not to vent it. It runs its course much easier when I simply don’t give it any attention, negative or positive.

24: Do you have a collection of anything? >> No. I don’t grok collecting.

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? >> I prefer video chatting if I must choose between the two.

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? >> I am happy with constantly becoming.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? >> A sound I hate is people sniffling, especially if they do it constantly; a sound I love is the distant roar of traffic on a clear summer night.

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? >> Not sure.

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? >> I don’t believe in ghosts personally, but I do believe in extraterrestrial life. I think aliens just interest me more than ghosts.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. >> A beer bottle. A counter.

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? >> Nothing specific.

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? >> I don’t know.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? >> I’m not familiar enough with both coasts to have an actual opinion.

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? >> ---

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? >> The meaning of my life is constant change and constant curiosity.

36: Define Art. >> The meaning of art for me is whatever excites my senses and invites an emotional response.

37: Do you believe in luck? >> I believe in synchronicity, and I think luck falls into that jurisdiction.

38: What’s the weather like right now? >> Sunny and warm.

39: What time is it? >> 5.58p EST.

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? >> No.

41: What was the last book you read? >> The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers. Finally finished it.

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? >> Yes, quite. Not in abundance, though, or for long periods of time.

43: Do you have any nicknames? >> Dio, Rev, Eddie.

44: What was the last film you saw? >> The Thing (the 2011 remake).

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? >> A facial laceration.

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? >> Nope.

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? >> My current active special interests are comparative mythology, the Dark Tower, eldritch stories and concepts, theology and mysticism, social evolution, and supermassive black holes. (I’m watching a show about that last one right now.)

48: What’s your sexual orientation? >> I like dicks and I prefer them to be nonhuman. (I don’t have a solid sexual orientation. The only)

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? >> Not that I recall or know of.

50: Do you believe in magic? >> I suppose I do, don’t I.

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? >> No. Grudges don’t interest me in the slightest.

52: What is your astrological sign? >> Gemini Sun (and Moon, and Mercury); Scorpio Rising.

53: Do you save money or spend it? >> I spend it when I can and save some when it’s possible.

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? >> Netflix’s monthly payment date was today.

55: Love or lust? >> Both are delightful.

56: In a relationship? >> Am I in one? Yes.

57: How many relationships have you had? >> Enough to know I’m not done having them.

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? >> Nope.

59: Where were you yesterday? >> At home.

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? >> Sparrow’s mouse and phone case are both mostly pink.

61: Are you wearing socks right now? >> Yes.

62: What’s your favourite animal? >> Snakes, spiders, capybara, otters... dogs...

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? >> I don’t use any special weapons to get someone to like me. I want someone’s appreciation of me to be organic-- based upon a perception of me that’s as untainted by my influence as possible.

64: Where is your best friend? >> In Xibalba, my ‘headspace’.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. >> I’ll name five random blogs I love looking at for various reasons: arashi-of-ota, thisherelight, ruth-threadgoode, arielshepard, and elfyourmother.

66: What is your heritage? >> My father is Black American and Native, to his understanding; my mother is Haitian.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? >> I was probably on tumblr.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? >> Why would Satan need a surname?

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? >> Of course?

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? >> Yes.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? >> That depends on how confident I am that losing that job won’t be a huge loss. And honestly, a job has never been of utmost importance to me, so I’d probably end up saving the dog in any case. Or at least finding someone that can, if the canal is too treacherous for my non-swimming ass.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? >> In a case of terminal illness, I’d tell the people in my social circle and then try to come to terms with it in whatever way suits who I am at that time. And yes, I’d definitely be afraid. Hopefully, by that time, the fear would be less of an issue. Hopefully, O’Dim and I will be closer friends by then.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. >> This is such an unimaginative idea.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? >> Seven Years in Tibet by David Bowie has a pretty good track record for this.

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? >> 6463.

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? >> That depends on the people involved, not my opinion. What makes my current relationship effective is communication, investment, and compassion.

77: How can I win your heart? >> It’s not a prize. You don’t win it, you cultivate it, encourage it, inspire it.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? >> In my experience, my creativity is a direct result of my insanity. However, that doesn’t seem to work in every case, so don’t necessarily expect it to.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? >> It’s an interconnected set of decisions, both mine and others’, that create a life. No single decision is responsible for how my life is.

80: What size shoes do you wear? >> 8.5, I think.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? >> I don’t care. Whatever would please those left behind, I suppose.

82: What is your favourite word? >> I have way too many favourite words.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. >> I imagined an anatomically realistic heart.

84: What is a saying you say a lot? >> “son of a whore”

85: What’s the last song you listened to? >> I don’t remember.

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? >> I don’t have favourite colours.

87: What is your current desktop picture? >> It’s a slideshow. Right now, it’s a still from Interstellar.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? >> No thanks.

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? >> I don’t know.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? >> Stare at them for a while, trying to figure out how to proceed.

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? >> The ability to manipulate organic and inorganic matter without limit.

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? >> No, thanks.

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? >> Why would I need this.

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? >> One who’s clean, good in bed, and nice to look at.

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? >> Meh.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? >> Not to my knowledge.

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? >> Nope.

98: Ever been on a plane? >> Quite a few times, yes.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? >> “Whaddup, y’all...?”

#surveysofsamedi