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carryforthtradition · 7 months

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September the 29th

It’s my 52nd birthday today and I have been pondering about this day and what it means to me, to others and it’s historical significance.

birthdays

I was just on the phone to mum and I said to her; ”This day really should be about you mum, and a celebration of you bringing me to the earth; a thank you to the parents. I didn’t have much to do with that part of my arrival here into this world, it was because of you, the pain you went through to give birth and for taking care of me all my life, and still to this day.”

She did chuckle and mention something about stitches, but I tend to glaze over in those moments. My parents were wonderful when I was growing up (and have been all throughout my life and mum still is here helping me through). Me and my little sister were truly blessed to have such kind and loving parents, our life was magical and idyllic and safe and fun and nourishing and fulfilling. What more could you wish for as a child? I feel very fortunate to be alive at this time and will embrace being 52. Someone said to me the other day that being in our 50’s and 60’s are the best years because we have both wisdom and energy - let’s see - ha ha!!

Photos; Mum with me as a bump, little me, me on mum’s knee a few weeks, or days old, me and dad on a canal barge my parent’s hired for a holiday on the Norfolk Broads..

An unusual, recurring dream

Up until I was about 9 or 10, I had a recurring dream. I really believe that it was some kind of a ‘birth dream’; a record, a recollection of my exact arrival here or the time before I was born. Something given to me in my ‘Toolbox for Life’ that I would need as I grew to help me remember who I am. I still remember it clearly. I have spoken to others about it, some people look at me as if I’ve gone mad, some look interested, some have heard similar stories. (I’d be interested to hear from anyone else who has had a similar experience). There isn’t much information readily available about it, as far as I can see, but it really doesn’t matter. I remember it and it was a personal experience that still helps me today.

It went like this -

I’m in a dark, damp place with no light. The air is stifling. I can just about make out a wooden fence with a stile going over it in front of me, which I know I need to climb over, but my legs can’t move. Then I acknowledge that I am actually stuck in mud up to my knees as I can see a dim light glistening on the surface of the muddy ground; light of which I can’t see it’s source. Then in an instant, I am suspended, immersed in glorious, bright light, floating in mid-air, with no end in sight. No up or down or East or West, no time. Infinity. A sense of complete and utter freedom and serenity and peace. I am able to move in any direction I like, but I’m so content that I chose not to move and I just look into the light.

Theses two contrasting experiences would repeat all night until I woke up the next morning. Over the years, this, or course, stuck with me and I interpreted it many years ago. It tells me where I need to get to. I need to get over that stile. That is where I belong, in that illuminated eternal space. It is where I came from. This is a certainty for me and even more so as I travel further through life and through lived experiences. The mud is my karmic burden, debts, the things holding me back trying to stop me from being myself and returning to my true home in the Heavens. It is the challenge. The cultivation path which I chose is to help me free myself from all of this mud.

Believing in reincarnation, I do think that maybe I did have had something to do with my return. Although, as it goes, our memories are wiped clean before we arrive; giving us the opportunity in the human realm to pay back our karmic debts and fulfil our vows and to figure this all out as we go along our way through life. The many challenges thrown my way have never pushed me off track, I have persevered, got up again when I’ve been crumpled and kept going and I’m fortunate enough to have had an excellent foundation built for me by both parents and my family, and in my more mature days, since 2011, my daily spiritual practice of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong), a Buddhist meditation practice which adheres to the Universal principles of Truth Compassion and Tolerance. It teaches returning to one’s true self, emphasising virtue - the guide to help me on my way. (What is Falun Gong (Falun Dafa)? | Ancient Chinese Spiritual Practice (faluninfo.net))

Photos: Me on my potty eating breakfast (glad some things have improved) toddler me on mum’s knee, me and my little sister, mum and dad one Christmas

providence

My birth day is one of historical significance; it is on St Michaelmas Day.

Link - Michaelmas, 29th September, and the customs and traditions associated with Michaelmas Day (historic-uk.com)

In Christianity, St Michael the Archangel was a noble warrior fighting against demonic forces. He battled against the dragon in Heaven, Satan, who was then cast down to earth with the fallen angels. He is a fierce defender of the people, the commander of the army of God leading Heaven’s Army in their triumph over hell. St Michael symbolises the victory of good over evil and is seen as the protector from darkness and evil as we come into shorter days. Another interesting part of my destiny is that I live in a town called St George. Saint George is the Patron Saint of England. St George’s Day falls on April 23. According to legend, he was a soldier in the Roman army who killed a dragon and saved a princess. St George was persecuted by the Roman army and eventually executed for refusing to give up his Christian faith. Photos: A little ink drawing I am working on!!!

"The China Tribunal, chaired by Sir Geoffrey Nice, QC (lead prosecutor of Slobodan Milosevic at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia), conducted the world’s first independent legal analysis of forced organ harvesting from prisoners of conscience in China. The Tribunal examined all available evidence in order to determine what criminal offences, if any, may have been committed by individuals affiliated to state or state-approved bodies, organisations or officials in China that may have engaged in forced organ harvesting." -- https://endtransplantabuse.org/2020-china-tribunal-judgment/

the fight between good and evil

I’ve written before about my efforts over the last 12 years to expose the evil crimes of the Chinese Communist Party and it’s persecution of Falun Dafa and other spiritual groups in China; Uighurs, House Church Christians, Tibetans and others. Amongst many other things, I have organised briefings in, and spoken in Parliament, until 2020, I was the UK Manager for The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China (ETAC), and I remain on the Committee. ETAC initiated the independent people’s tribunal ‘The China Tribunal’.

Quote taken from the 2020 China Tribunal Judgment - The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China

the china tribunal conclusion

Quote taken from Final Short Form Conclusion China Tribunal

"“These individual conclusions, when combined, led to the unavoidable final conclusion that; forced organ harvesting has been committed for years throughout China on a significant scale and that Falun Gong practitioners have been one - and probably the main - source of organ supply. The concerted persecution and medical testing of the Uyghurs is more recent and it may be that evidence of forced organ harvesting of this group may emerge in due course. The Tribunal has had no evidence that the significant infrastructure associated with China’s transplantation industry has been dismantled and absent a satisfactory explanation as to the source of readily available organs concludes that forced organ harvesting continues till today” - " -- Final Short Form Conclusion China Tribunal

If you would like to learn more or help in any way - please look here - How you can help - The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China

good prevails over evil

I’ve needed a tremendous amount of courage to be involved in exposing this new form of evil. I’ve really pushed myself through so much fear and anxiety and stress to stand up against such evil, this devil, this demonic force opposing life. Both these Saints are associated with Divine protection, honour and courage and, of course, the elimination of evil forces, which is why they resonate with me. In fact, I have always felt that I am being looked after since I was a little girl and practicing Falun Dafa has helped me to understand even more deeply that Divine beings are indeed watching over us. I believe I will be alive to witness the end of evil’s reign on this earth and will continue to play my small part in it’s demise so that all sentient beings can be free. Returning to tradition and to our traditional values have a huge part to play in this - which is another story, for another time. So hold on everyone! Keep going!

#Becky James #Falun Dafa #Falun Gong #evil #St Michael #St George

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arrowflier · 3 years

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Prompt is anything about Mickey acknowledging that Ian’s past of sexual abuse still affects him, maybe during the 13% debacle when Mickey’s being mad and tells the family at breakfast, Ian gets sad and quiet instead of defensive cause he knows he misspoke but he doesn’t know how to explain the feeling of like not being whole and Tami schools Mickey private bc she knows a little bit how Ian feels?

Content warning: references to child abuse/ sexual abuse of a minor

"Guess who I ran into on the L yesterday?" Ian asked as he made for the coffee machine.

"Dunno man," Mickey answered from behind him, skating a hand over his hip as he moved to take a seat at the table. "Why were you on the fuckin' L anyway, where'd you go when I was hangin' with Sandy?"

He sat down between Carl and Tami--it was a full house this morning--and stole a piece of bacon off Carl's plate even as he hunched over it protectively.

"Oh you know," Ian said, "just headed over to that weekly gay orgy at the rec center."

Mickey flipped him off, but Tami chortled next to him. She handed him another slice of bacon in apology--off Carl's plate, not her own--and went back to feeding Fred.

"Alright, funny man," Mickey said as he chewed, "so who'd you see there then?"

"Linda," Ian answered, unphased. He didn't seem to notice the way Mickey's chewing slowed, or the way Carl abruptly straightened and pushed back from the table.

"Yeah," Ian continued, "she was back for some kind of hearing? Apparently Kash's new boyfriend called the cops on him or something."

Ian took a long sip of coffee, then frowned as he lowered the mug.

"He, uh," Ian started, then stopped to take another drink. "Linda said he found some pictures?”

Mickey stilled.

“What kind of pictures?” he asked suspiciously. Carl took that as his cue to abandon ship, shoving the rest of his breakfast over toward Mickey as he hightailed it out of the room. Tami stayed, stuck with a babbling Fred in his high chair and completely lost as to why the room was suddenly so tense.

“Of me, I think,” Ian answered quietly, not meeting Mickey’s eyes. “Or some other boyfriend maybe? I don’t know.”

“Another boyfriend,” Mickey parroted, and Ian shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I guess.” He set his mug on the counter, braced himself against the edge with both hands. “I kinda feel bad for him, you know?” he added. “It’s not like he asked for stuff like that, I just sent it.”

Mickey’s hand hit the table hard enough to shake the cutlery.

"The fuck did you say?" he asked flatly.

Ian didn't react, but Tami froze next to him with a fork halfway to Fred’s mouth. Mickey ignored her stare.

"You really just tell me you feel bad for that fucker?" Mickey continued, voice rising. "The guy that fuckin' molested you? The guy that shot me cause you dared to fuck someone your own fucking age?"

Ian was quiet. Too quiet, and it hurt to see the way he bit his lip and looked away, like he couldn't face it. Couldn't face the truth--couldn’t face Mickey, either.

"Mickey," Tami murmured, slowly lowering her fork to her plate with a muffled click, "maybe you shouldn't--"

"No," Mickey said firmly, cutting her off. "What I should do is track that fucker down and cut off his fucking dick, so he can’t touch another teenage kid for the rest of his goddamned life.”

“That’s what I should do,” he went on, ignoring the way Tami waved at him frantically under the table. “But Ian here,” he said, “wouldn’t want that, would he? Cause Ian thinks Kash loved him, and he won’t fuckin’ admit his first boyfriend was a disgusting-ass pedophilic bastard.”

Ian shoved himself back from the counter, and stormed from the kitchen. A second later, the front door slammed, and Mickey collapsed back into his chair in resgination.

Before he could feel too sorry for himself, Tami intervened.

"Dude," Tami hissed next to him. Mickey looked over to see her scrunched face, her lip curled. "Are you really shaming him for that right now?"

“The fuck you know about it?” he muttered. Even Fred seemed to be judging him, that chubby little face pouting, and Mickey didn’t like it one bit.

“I know enough,” Tami said, then sighed.

“Look,” she started slowly. “I don’t know anything about this Kash guy or whatever, alright? But it sounds like Ian was just a kid when they got involved.”

“Barely even old enough to do anything, probably,” Mickey groused. “Bastard picked him up as soon as he fuckin’ saw him.”

“And it went on for a while?” Tami guessed, and raised her hands when Mickey looked at her suspiciously.

“Hey, I’m just getting my facts straight,” she defended. “But if you ask me, Ian’s got more on his mind with this than whether or not his old boss is a good guy.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Mickey asked. “He’s had plenty of fuckin’ time to think about this shit, he ought to hate that guy’s guts by now.”

Tami bit her lip, but persevered.

“I know,” she said softly, “because it took me even longer, okay?”

At Mickey’s curious glance, she expanded.

“There was this teacher,” she told him, not meeting his eyes. “And he made me think I was special.”

Tami laughed, a short, sharp sound, and shook her head.

“He paid attention to me, is more like it,” she admitted. “And I ate that shit right up, because God knows my dad didn’t back then. And it never even occurred to me that what we had was wrong.”

She finally looked up.

“Then he brought his new girlfriend by,” she said. “His new, teenage girlfriend. And he said all the same things, and she ate it up, too.”

Mickey just watched her.

“So yeah, I get it,” she finished, tracing a scratch on the table with one finger. “And what Ian needs right now? Is not your fucking judgement.”

She stood abruptly, her chair screeching as it scraped back, and scooped Fred out of his seat.

"You should think about what he's going through right now," she said as she settled Fred on her hip. "Instead of how it makes you feel."

She moved toward the back door, opened it, then paused.

"Because being confronted with the truth isn't easy," she added. "And he might be a victim, but he doesn't want to be."

Then she was gone, the kitchen silent, just Mickey sitting there at the table with two rapidly cooling plates of eggs and bacon that weren't even his.

"Well, fuck," he said to himself. Then he levered himself up, and made for the front door

---

As it turned out, Ian hadn't gone far. As soon as Mickey opened the door, there he was: hunched over right there on the steps, head in his hands.

Mickey sat next to him without speaking. Ian shifted over to make room, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey," Mickey started hesitantly. Then he swallowed, wiped sweaty hands on his thighs, and tried again.

"I'm sorry."

Ian didn't bother to lift his head.

"For what?" he asked tiredly. "I mean, you were right."

"I was?" Mickey responded, then cleared his throat. "I was," he repeated more confidently, then, " but I still shouldn't have fucking said it."

Ian sighed, and straightened. "It's okay," he said, smiling weakly. "Kash was an asshole, I know he was. And I know it was wrong, now, but I just..."

Ian stopped, shook his head.

"Never mind," he muttered. "You wouldn't get it."

Mickey inched closer. He raised an arm to wrap around Ian's shoulders, and thought about the bright-eyed kid he fell for all those years ago, ignored by his family and utterly devoted to a man that should have known better.

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed softly, squeezing Ian's shoulders and stroking that hand down his arm in a gentle caress.

"But tell me anyway."

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #tami tamietti #tw: child abuse #i wish i could spend more time on this serious topic #but its late so maybe another time

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enjeolmii · 3 years

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coffee - s.jy

genre: mostly angst, a little fluff towards the end

word count: 1.7k

warnings: overdose on caffeine, passing out, i think that’s all :))

"Y/n, you should stop drinking coffee. You have to watch out for yourself, too," Jake says slowly, sitting his hand on your shoulder with the other one on the heavy cup you are holding. "Four is enough."

Your eyes shift to his expression, one that conveyed clear emotions of concern. This was supposed to be your fifth cup of the day.

Studying for the exams has never been so stressful. The amount of pressure dangling on your shoulders is much unbearable than how you expected it to be. Having parents who never supported your dream certainly took a toll on you, and living with a flawless sister all your life was never any help for your self-esteem. Being the low-grade sister between you two gave you comparisons aplenty. Everywhere you look, no matter where you go, you always find taunts and mockery preying on you. All your life, you got discredited by most of your relatives in light of your sister.

And you want to prove them wrong.

Getting higher grades is what it is. All she's ever good at is cheating off of her friends' answer sheets. It's a secret she threatened you to keep. Ever since she saw you and Jake hanging out alone in the swimming room, a picture she'd taken is all it would take for your parents to wash their hands of you.

And then, there's also getting the favor of all your family. She's prettier, sweeter, hard-working, and smarter. Everyone is biased on her nonexistent efforts, yet you - who has tried everything she can do to show her utmost best to be acknowledged by the people around her - were forsaken and left overlooked.

But it wasn't until Jake happened.

Only he saw the struggles you faced and outweighed. He conceded how far down the road you'd made it yourself and never forgot to make you feel worthy of his praises. He is the only one who understood the motive behind your desperation, and he is the only one who supported your dream.

So you wanted to make him proud. This exam will serve as the last movement to get into the performing arts school you long sought to join. To lose this opportunity means losing all you endear, and you wouldn't be sure how well you will hold up if you let this chance slip away.

That is all you can say for five cups of coffee.

"As much as I would love to stop, I'm not yet done studying. I need to ace this test." You peel his grip off of your cup, squeezing it as you offer a hesitant smile of reassurance, and he lets out a sigh.

"You aced all your activities and went home bringing the highest grades in your class," His palms find purchase on your shoulders. "You are doing so well now. Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?" A short silence follows your sigh.

"Jake, I have only been compared to my sister all my life. This is the only time I can prove them wrong. I want to feel incomparable, too. I want them to know that I am not a punching bag that they can just play around with," You clarify through clenched teeth, a recollection of all the memories flashing past your eyes. "You know that better than anyone."

Your boyfriend couldn't help but feel bad for you. He understood. All those times you leaned on him when you felt like giving up, every moment you called him and texted him asking for motivation, he knows how much you went through, and it casts him down that you never acknowledged how much progress and improvement you have shown.

You became more assertive and bolder, and he is happy that you are finally standing up for yourself. However, he couldn't learn to accept seeing you lose long hours of sleep over studying. For days, you ran on caffeine to help you stay awake and scan through your textbooks as long as you were satisfied. You pushed yourself to the limits, bypassing the pleasure of taking a rest and instead etching all significant terms on the topic of your exam in your mind. You disregarded the accomplishments you made for yourself and went on thinking that you never achieved enough to get a compliment from your loved ones, which is what Jake could not understand.

"Yes, I know that. But drinking more coffee isn't going to help you, is it?" He signifies, and you let a dry laugh through your nose.

"Give me one reason caffeine doesn't help." You smirk at him. Sure, your method is trash, and everything about it is not entirely definitive. But, can you really do anything about it? No, well, not that you know of. Your sister is studying in the same field, and it is only a matter of skill to win against her. If you gain a point or two higher, it is more than enough to crush her pride and bring yours up. The hidden thirst you have for acceptance is slowly showing, and you all but feel determined to see how far you can take it to get the better of her.

"Too much of it doesn't bring you to the top. It brings you to a hospital bed."

Your smile vanishes at his answer. What he said is true, but to hear an accurate response to your insincere quest only irritates you. You set the mug down on the countertop before crossing your arms, feeling the weight of his hands on your shoulders disappear, and you poke your tongue to the side of your cheek. "So what do you want me to do?" You assert, voice laced with irritation and disinterest.

"Take a break. Continue studying when your mind's not exhausted."

"My mind is not exhausted."

"Babe, you've been in front of your books since early sunrise. It's already two in the morning." He protests, and you look at him with a tinge of bitterness.

He shoots you worried gazes as his hands travel to yours, squeezing and swaying them side to side, and you sigh. "I don't care what time it is. I can take a rest tomorrow after the exam." You retract his grip from yours, taking the coffee cup back in your hands before stepping back into your room. "I need to study."

"Y/n... Please!" Jake follows close behind you, continuously begging. Suddenly, your head becomes heavy. Pain strikes your upper nape every time he calls for your name, ears abruptly ringing at the volume he whines. Black spots appear in your vision, along with the feeling of getting lightheaded. Your eyes shut tight in discomfort. As though your head will fall off the moment you move it around, you lose all senses, the sound of him calling you blurring away.

One moment, you groan with a hand rubbing slow circles at your temple. And another moment, the shattering sound of your mug against the floor reaches your ears, legs giving out as you feel your boyfriend's arms supporting your fall.

Panic replaces the distress in Jake's expression. Frantically, he lightly shakes your body in an attempt to wake you up, and when all taps and raps decline, he locks his arms around your arms and knees, hastily lifting you towards your bedroom.

Through the piles of answer sheets sprawled on the floor, he tiptoes his way to gently lay you on your bed, snatching the pillows under your head to pile them beneath your feet.

A heavier sigh escapes. He moves to sit by your side against the headboard, looking down at your vulnerable form as he sweeps strands of hair away from your face.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He utters through whispers. "You just never learn to give up, even when you know it's going to be hard on you."

Running his fingers gently through your hair, he frowns. He admires it of you - how you always manage to get what you want.

It's how he fell in love with you. It's how you caught his heart. The confidence that inclined his interest when you represented the class's agitated thoughts towards your unqualified professor, not a single fear of the consequences ahead.

Then, having made known that you were never able to use that confidence in front of your family hit a soft spot in his heart. So he wanted to help you get the recognition you desired, stayed with you in your highest and lowest, up until now.

"Why can't you see the significance behind everything you have outdone? You've fulfilled enough to show your family that you are incomparable, yet you're never satisfied with yourself," The air grows silent. "I guess you want to hear it directly from them. Is that how you're going to be? Thinking of yourself the way others think of you... Do you know why I love you? Because you are a kind, persevering, and confident person. I didn't love you because you are smarter than your sister. Hearing confirmation from others isn't everything, love, there are still other people who think you are flawless."

A few more minutes of stroking your head and one good look at your subtle breathing are all it takes for Jake to get up from the bed before bitterly watching the spilled coffee wither onto the corridor floor across the open door. "Now, look at the mess I'll have to clean," He stressfully stretches his neck, eyes closed. Just as he takes a step away to tidy up the mess, a hand reaches to grab his arm.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, eyes still closed. "I was getting too competitive I didn't realize you were here for me. I didn't mean to get mad at you," You tug at him. "Stay here, I'll clean that later when we wake up. For now, let's go to sleep." You make space for him on your bed, a small smile pulling at his lips as he gladly lays down beside you, setting his arm under your head while you wrap an arm around his body. "Thank you, love."

Jake looks at you, smile growing wider before placing a long kiss on your forehead. "I'll always love you no matter what."

You mirror his expression, snuggling closer to him as you say, "I love you, too."

a/n: i saw that there are lots of you who are preparing for exams right now... if you are one of them, then thank you for reading this and procrastinating a lil bit :D i wish you all the best!! drink your water and stay healthy always!!! 💖🥰

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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

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Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

#JJK #Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook soulmate #jeon jungkook #jungkook soulmate au

159 notes · View notes

xiaomomowrites · 3 years

Text

homecoming

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: “You must not give up now, alright? I, too, wish for Childe to come home. I wish to see him again, and frankly, it scares me how much I want him by my side once more,” Zhongli acquiesces, “I miss him dearly, and all I want is to be able to hear his laugh again. You feel the same about your sister, do you not? But Aether, this kind of loss is something we both must grieve. But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

Aether opens his mouth to begin responding, but his jaw quickly snaps shut as the fate between his palms disappears.

Keqing and Mona gasp loudly from where they sit back at camp. Aether startles, and pulls back to look at him with wide golden eyes.

All four of them look up to the sky, and are astonished to see a single golden star hurtling toward the ground they sit on. Aether gasps, barely containing his scream.

“Oh my god,” Traveler inhales sharply, “oh my god, you-”

“Get out of there!” Mona yells, and suddenly she’s standing up on her chair. Keqing places a steadying hand on the small of her back. “It’s going to crash right into you! Move!”

Or, Zhongli and Aether just want Childe to come home. Their wishes come true.

Find it on Ao3!

A/N: Oh my goodness I wrote this in one sitting before throwing it at my editors and wishing them the best lol. I wrote this in honor of finally pulling Childe, and wow was this a treat to write! And yes, I wrote my own team reacting to Childe coming home. Aether isn't on my team anymore (I benched him back when I was WL3), but I wanted to include him because it isn't Genshin Impact without our favorite traveler. My main team consists of Zhongli, Mona, Chongyun, and Keqing! But now that Childe is with me, he'll be slowly making his way into my main party :)

Just a heads up, Keqing and Mona were written as best friends here, but you can interpret their relationship however you'd like haha

And once again, this fic was inspired by some twitter fanart that I will link in the end notes! Enjoyyyy <3

Aether is especially jittery this morning.

The blond is bouncing off the walls so early in the morning that even Zhongli was taken aback by his energy. The ex-Archon watches him with wary eyes as the traveler paces back and forth in front of the breakfast table, muttering to himself about ‘fates’ and ‘primogems’. Vaguely, Zhongli hears Aether mutter the numbers ‘one hundred and sixty’ and ‘thirty-two-eighty’ as he paces, and the deity ultimately decides he wants nothing to do with what Aether is scheming. The sun is rising and Zhongli has always loved watching the star rise with every inhale. The day starts when the sun wakes up, and it ends when the sun begins to rest. Zhongli closes his eyes, ignoring Aether’s anxious pacing in favor of the serenity of the wilderness they chose to camp out in for the night.

Mona and Keqing clamber out of their shared tent together, pinkies linked as usual. Keqing still dons her elegant silk sleeping robe and her lavender hair spills past her shoulders in cute, candid waves. Her eyes are still slightly hooded with sleep but she’s quick to blink her drowsiness away in favor of the day to come. Mona, on the other hand, is in the oversized tee shirt she bought from Majorie and her usual black tights. Her dark locks are out of their usual twin pigtails and flow down her back, tangled, and significantly less put together than Keqing. She yawns obnoxiously as she shuffles closer to the group.

The astrologist sniffles. “G’morning.”

“Good morning, friends,” Keqing greets with a small smile of her own and drags Mona to sit across from Zhongli. He offers her a smile. Mona blinks in response.

“Good morning, ladies. Did you sleep well?” Zhongli responds, and takes Mona’s glare as an answer in itself. “Still not a morning person, I see.”

“Never will be, Mr. Rex Lapis,” Mona sighs, thanking him quietly for the cup of tea he hands her in passing. Keqing makes a beeline for their makeshift kitchen to make the unruly bunch some breakfast. Zhongli always handles the tea, as picky as he is about his morning tea, and Keqing always handles breakfast.

“I assume young Chongyun will not be awake for awhile,” Zhongli chuckles, bringing his cup to his lips.

Keqing scoffs from the kitchen, “You can expect him around noon, Zhongli-xiansheng.”

Xiansheng.

Try as he might, he’s associated the suffix to a certain ginger. A ginger who he misses dearly, but hasn’t seen since he left for Snezhnaya in a hurry. Zhongli’s heart swoops. He left without so much as a goodbye, leaving Zhongli to pick up the pieces he left Liyue in and the unfortunate state of his heart. The thought of not seeing Childe ever again ate at him continuously until he felt hollow inside, and all he had left was a familiar ache every time the ginger came back to haunt his dreams. All Zhongli wanted was to know if the latter was okay, but with the way he had deceived him, he wasn’t sure if he deserved to know. As someone who greets death as if it were an old friend, never seeing Childe again simply because the circumstances do not allow it upsets him far more than he’d like to admit. Life, human life, was too short for Zhongli to be sitting around wasting time. But no matter how many times he’s preached this to himself, the ex-Archon still struggles with taking the steps to make contact.

How would he even begin, anyway?

The Harbinger was stuck with his Harbinger duties. Childe had a family to tend to and treasure hoarders to chase. It wasn’t like Zhongli could warp to Snezhnaya and sweep him off his feet; that would be inappropriate and selfish of him. And yet the idea of seeing him again, of hearing his laugh, watching him smile, pay for his food with that adorable expression of his, it almost makes him want to leave to see him right now. But he can’t. The situation simply does not allow it.

Right?

“Two minutes!” Aether suddenly yelps, making Mona jump in her chair. She whips around to glare at the overzealous traveler. Keqing’s head snaps in his direction and almost drops the pan she’s frying fish on. She clicks her tongue in mild annoyance. Zhongli frowns, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“What are you so anxious about, Aether?”

“You don’t understand, Zhongli!” Aether whips around, his crazy eyes locking onto Zhongli’s amber irises. “This team needs an archer. We need an archer. This is non-negotiable! I can’t keep bothering Keqing to shoot those stupid water birds if she can’t throw her hair pin that far! We need arrows, Zhongli, arrows!”

Keqing makes a small noise of offense.

His arms flail in the air, desperate to make everyone in the room feel the panic he is currently sinking under.

“Alright, alright,” Zhongli hushes him, unsure of why his friend was so disgruntled in the first place. As far as he knew, it was another normal day full of daily commissions and mindless material farming. “We need someone adept at long range fighting. But what does that have to do with your current state of distress?”

“Mona said that today, his chances are increased by two-hundred percent. Right, Mona?” Aether’s gaze suddenly locks onto hers. She blinks.

“Yeah,” she responds, “but we had this discussion already, Aether, Childe’s rates are increased but that doesn’t guarantee you the fifty-fifty-”

“Childe?” Zhongli interrupts, interest suddenly piqued. “What does this have to do with Childe?”

Fifty-fifty? The more the conversation went on, the more confused Zhongli grew.

“Agh!” Aether scrambles, “I have to go! It’s happening!”

Zhongli watches with twice the amount of curiosity he had two minutes earlier. The mention of Childe has his heart racing faster than he’d like to admit.

Aether frantically pulls out a bag full of intertwined fates and rushes out to the open field ahead of them. The bag is absolutely loaded, filled to the brim and overflowing with these small, circular things that, in his six thousand years of living, he has never seen before. They are colored blue and pink, and they mix together and sparkle so divinely that Zhongli finds himself entranced by their color alone. He has read about them and their uses in the past, but he has never seen someone actually wish upon them.

Mona sighs around her teacup. “He gets like this every time I tell him someone new is coming,” she shakes her head wistfully, “I always tell him to stop spending so much of his mora on these fates! They’re not good for the economy-”

“And what do you know about the economy, Mona?” Keqing chuckles, coming around with plated food for the trio, “you spend the entirety of your paychecks immediately on the newest hot astrology item. Not that they’re not important to you but I’ve told you before that you ought to be careful with how you spend your mora.”

Mona’s jaw drops. “What!” she fumbles, “I am plenty responsible with my mora! And the things I buy are completely valid and of high rarity, thank you!”

“Hmm, is that why you almost starved and ate nothing but mushrooms for three months?” Keqing teases, nudging Mona’s mouth open with chopsticks holding fish. The astrologist pouts, but opens her mouth to eat, anyway. She’s right, but Mona would never say that to her face.

Zhongli doesn’t pay attention to their bickering.

Instead, he fixates on the way Aether scurries out and dumps the bag of fates out on the open field before picking them up, one by one, until ten of them are bunched up in his arms. Aether flops down on the grass beneath him and folds his legs underneath himself. The traveler hunches over the fates, huddling them close to his chest, and Zhongli can barely see his mouth moving as Aether begins to wish upon ten stars. With every word spoken, each fate slowly starts to disappear. The more his mouth moves, the more the fates begin to disintegrate from his arms.

A loud whirring noise above their heads suddenly takes place. It gets louder as it gets closer, and Zhongli cranes his neck to see stars hurtling toward Teyvat. He feels panic bubbling up in his chest as he sees the bunch go straight for his friend.

“Aether!” he yells, “Get over here, it’s dangerous out in the open!”

“I’m fine!” he hollers back like a stubborn child. “Ugh, dammit!”

Zhongli looks back up, and is baffled to see that one of the stars has turned purple. What in Celestia’s name-

Barbara appears before them, and Zhongli’s eyes all but bulge out of his head. Celestia, he’s too old for this. The young nurse is not the only thing to appear, though. Zhongli observes the various weapons that litter the ground and surround Aether’s feet. The blond observes them with a scrutinizing gaze, nudging the three star weapons with his foot and pushing the four star weapons aside for later. How peculiar.

Mona, on the other hand, smiles and waves a hand at her fellow water catalyst. “Barbara!” She hollers, “It’s good to see you!”

“Mona!” the young idol responds with a blinding smile, before focusing her attention back on Aether. The traveler sighs, gives her a quick hug in greeting, and sends her on her merry way back to Mondstadt after apologizing profusely for the inconvenience.

Keqing snickers. “It’s always so funny watching him get so intense about wishing.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mona adds, “Remember how much he screamed when he finally got us?”

“Oh yes,” Keqing smiles around her cup, “I remember him throwing these strange artifacts at me and shoving a sword in my face, demanding that I use it, as if I don’t already have my own weapon!” She waves her hand dismissively, reminiscing her days when she was first introduced to the team.

Mona tips her head back and laughs heartily. “Oh, yes. He took my book away from me and gave me my lovely eye of perception. I must say, it’s a bit of a downgrade from my five star weapon, but I do feel as if I deal more damage this way.”

Keqing hums in agreement. “Likewise.”

Zhongli is quiet.

All he remembers from joining Aether’s team is being pulled at the last minute and being tackled into a hug as soon as he appeared. The traveler had all but pushed the skyward spine into his hands, and told him to hold onto what looked to be archaic petra artifacts. Zhongli had cocked his head, confused, but followed along anyway. What Aether was doing seemed important, regardless, and he decided to support his endeavours from there on out.

Now he watches with bated breath as Aether curls around another set of ten fates. Zhongli is beginning to understand what he is doing, but he fails to decipher what Childe has to do with any of this. His rates are increased? What in Celestia’s name does that even mean?

Aether begins wishing upon ten more fates and the abrupt whooshing above their heads starts up once more. One of the stars morph midair into purple once again.

Keqing and Mona sigh.

Zhongli just wants to understand.

Aether punches the grass beneath him.

A young woman appears before them along with another unnecessary plethora of weapons. She’s blonde, just like the last one, but she dons two pigtails and an eyepatch. A strange electric bird hovers around her, too, and Zhongli can’t help but wonder why she is dressed the way she is; she’s covered in purple and black, cocking one hip as if she owned the world. Zhongli is unsure about the energy she exudes. But in fairness, it is far too early to judge one’s character on nothing but appearance. Still, he watches carefully.

“Fischl,” Aether breathes, slumping against the floor, “hello.”

“Traveler,” she greets. “What exactly am I doing here? I will have you know, as Prinzessin-”

“Der Verteilung, you have many duties at home you must attend to, lest the kingdom you rule with grace and elegance burn to the ground without your remarkable leadership,” Aether finishes for her, “I know, I know. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to grab you. You can go home.”

Fischl harrumphs. “I’m relieved to know you are aware of my importance. Good day to you, strange traveler.”

And then she’s gone.

Zhongli sighs, pushing himself up from the table and ignoring the way his knees disagree with the sudden movement.

“Where are you going?” Keqing asks, helping herself to another cup of tea.

“I’m going to talk to Aether,” Zhongli declares, “He seems...rather troubled, and I wish to help.”

“He gets like this every time,” Mona reminds him, voice softer than it was two minutes ago, “it’s really nothing new.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “It does not make it right to let him sit in his anxiety like this. Perhaps he could use a friend.”

Mona shrugs and lets him go. As he walks away, he hears the girls behind him begin to talk.

“Does Zhongli have a thing for Childe?” Mona asks in a hushed breath. Keqing’s eyes widened comically.

“Not that I know of? Why, did you sense something?” She leans in closer, ever the gossip. Mona shuffles so they’re speaking in hushed tones, even though Zhongli can definitely still hear them. He chuckles, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The ex-Archon pads over to where Aether sits, frantically bunching together ten more fates. Zhongli sighs, and bends to sit next to him. His back screams in protest. Goodness, mortal life is getting to him.

“Aether,” he begins, “I worry for your health.”

“I’m fine, Zhongli. I’ll be fine as soon as he gets here,” Aether answers without even sparing the elder a glance. He picks up fates and observes them carefully to inspect their quality, as if he were picking ripe apples out from the grocery.

“And who exactly are you waiting for?” Zhongli asks, indulging the blond for a moment.

“Childe!” he yells, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The latter sighs. He, too, wishes for Childe to appear, but it simply did not work like that. One cannot summon another’s presence upon demand. Childe was too busy for that, anyway.

“Aether,” he begins, “you are anxious, friend, and I implore you to take a break from this please-”

“Zhongli,” traveler shuffles on his knees to look at him, “I have spent the last three months working my ass off for these fates, I’ve spent more mora than I’d like to admit, and I’ve spent far too long in that godforsaken spiral abyss scraping for three hundred primogems each time I freeze my ass off in floors nine and ten and it sucked, Zhongli, but I’ve worked hard and I need this, okay? I need Childe to come home. Because I need to get stronger, and I need a stronger team because I need to find my sister because I know she’s out there and, and-”

Zhongli raises a hand to quiet him. Oh, there was much to unpack here. His heart breaks for his friend’s state of distress. He places a comforting palm on Aether’s shoulder, lowering himself even more to look his friend in the eyes. The traveler looks a bit haggard, obviously from waking up early in anticipation. Zhongli wishes he could take his pain; he wishes he could take away the longing he desperately felt for his sister. But unfortunately, there was nothing he could do, so he offers his best comfort, instead.

“It’s alright,” Zhongli mutters, “I understand. You have worked hard, and you deserve a win. But Aether, whatever comes will come. Whether or not you ‘win the fifty-fifty’, you will be pushed in the right direction toward your sister, I promise you that. No amount of artifacts or talent books or weapon upgrades can compare to the strength you already harbor, looking for your sister every day despite knowing where she is. You face a battle against the unknown, and that in itself is commendable. Acknowledge your strength, Aether. You have come very far.”

Aether sags against him, letting himself lean forward until his forehead thumps against Zhongli’s chest. The contact is comforting. Everything about Zhongli is so warm and homey, and he smells of sleep and sandalwood. The calming effect is immediate, but his brain is still plagued with anxiety. Oh, Aether can’t bear the thought of Childe not coming this morning. It makes the blond sick to his stomach. Zhongli pats the top of his head soothingly.

“I know you miss her, but you will find her,” Zhongli continues. Aether squeezes the single fate in his hand anxiously. The blond fidgets with the single intertwined fate, pressing it up against Zhongli’s stomach as he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears to go away. He’s so, so tired.

“You must not give up now, alright? I, too, wish for Childe to come home. I wish to see him again, and frankly, it scares me how much I want him by my side once more,” Zhongli acquiesces, “I miss him dearly, and all I want is to be able to hear his laugh again. You feel the same about your sister, do you not? But Aether, this kind of loss is something we both must grieve. But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

Aether opens his mouth to begin responding, but his jaw quickly snaps shut as the fate between his palms disappears.

Keqing and Mona gasp loudly from where they sit back at camp. Aether startles, and pulls back to look at him with wide golden eyes.

All four of them look up to the sky, and are astonished to see a single golden star hurtling toward the ground they sit on. Aether gasps, barely containing his scream.

“Oh my god,” Traveler inhales sharply, “oh my god, you-”

“Get out of there!” Mona yells, and suddenly she’s standing up on her chair. Keqing places a steadying hand on the small of her back. “It’s going to crash right into you! Move!”

Aether scrambles backward as soon as he sees the pseudo asteroid plummeting directly toward where they’re both situated. “Zhongli!” he yells, “Move!”

The man in question shakes his head, unable to look away from the shooting star.

“It’s alright,” he responds, a sudden calm washing over him at the sight. Something about it feels so undeniably right. His heart tugs impatiently, desperately wishing to make contact with the ethereal being threatening to crash right into him, like a magnet reaching for its other half. “It’s alright, Aether.”

Seconds before it lands, Childe materializes right in front of him, arms flung wide open and a smile so bright that Zhongli almost winces.

The wind is knocked straight out his lungs upon seeing Childe’s gleeful face in front of him. It’s no longer a dream, Zhongli realizes. Ajax is here and he is very real and he is definitely plunging toward him at breakneck speed. This is no longer a figment of his imagination, and he has all but less than two seconds to comprehend that before the ginger barrels right into him.

Zhongi regains himself and digs his feet into the ground, summoning geo shackles from the ground to wrap around his ankles and lock him into place. He braces himself for impact.

Keqing screams. Mona looks away. Aether watches with wide, disbelieving eyes as Tartaglia comes plummeting out of the sky. He lets out an ugly mix between a sigh and a broken sob of relief. Finally. Celestia knows how much Aether needed this. He’s never been so happy to see an obnoxious red head of hair in his life.

Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, slams into Zhongli at full force and immediately latches onto him like a lifeline. He wraps his arms around Zhongli’s neck, legs winding around his waist, and clings to him like a koala around a tree. Zhongli responds in kind, pressing Childe to his chest with strong arms that hold him impossibly close. The weights around his ankles drop as soon as he stabilizes the both of them, and the ex-Archon swings him around gleefully.

Tartaglia laughs, the noise slightly muffled from where his face is pressed into Zhongli’s collar. Tartaglia squeezes him tighter, and Zhongli eventually has to put him down because his back simply does not want to cooperate today. Tartaglia looks at him then, a little winded from his trek through the sky of all things. Cerulean eyes meet gold, and the sight of his freckled cheeks in front of him makes Zhongli feel as if he can do anything, gnosis or not. He is so filled with joy, heart so full of glee that he feels like he might burst. Celestia could redact his position as a god in its entirety and in this moment, he wouldn’t care. He couldn’t care, because immortality has been nothing but a curse to him so far, and growing old with the love of his life is all he ever desired.

“I can’t believe it,” Zhongli breathes, “you’re here?” he cups Ajax’s face gently, holding him as if he were made of glass.

“You called,” Childe responds, hands grasping at Zhongli’s waist. The Harbinger leans forward until their foreheads knock together. “I heard you, xiansheng. So I came.”

“Huh,” Zhongli says dumbly, “that’s all I had to do?”

“It’s all you had to do, idiot,” Childe scolds him, “I could feel you overthinking all the way from Snezhnaya!” he thumps a fist against Zhongli’s chest playfully. And to his delight, the sound that echoes is no longer hollow. Zhongli’s smile reaches his eyes for the first time in an abysmally long time.

“Childe!” Aether screams. They let go of each other in favor of looking at the one who made their reconciliation possible. “You son of a bitch!”

Childe’s eyes widen at the unprovoked insult. “What did I do?!”

“What did you do?” Aether is quick to rip his shoe off and fling it at Childe’s head. It misses, but only narrowly. “What took you so long, asshole!”

Tartaglia cocks his head to the side. “You were wishing for me, too? I only heard Zhongli’s voice, comrade!”

Aether squawks a noise of indignation. “You-!”

“Aether,” Zhongli interrupts their squabble. His hand never leaves the small of Childe’s back. “Thank you.”

The traveler lets himself slump forward, exhausted from draining all his emotional energy so early in the morning. “You’re welcome. Couldn’t have done it without you, Mr. Zhongli.”

“Is everything okay?” Keqing hollers from where she’s helping Mona down from her chair. “I hear a lot of yelling!”

“Everything is fine!” Aether yells back. Zhongli takes that as their cue to make their way back to camp.

When they arrive, the sun has risen well up into the sky and looms over all of their heads. Chongyun finally clambers out of his tent after he’s completed his ten hours of sleep. His light blue hair is ruffled adorably and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He stretches, yawns, and coughs when he takes too deep of an inhale. The exorcist summons one of his famous popsicles and sucks on it absentmindedly in place of a proper breakfast. He’s exquisite.

“Morning everyone,” he greets, nodding at the girls at the table. “I heard a lot of screaming. Who’s the new guy?”

Chongyun watches Childe blearily through sleepy eyes. He blinks, before taking in the newcomer. The first thing the young exorcist notices is the obnoxious head of red hair that barely looks styled. Next, is the mask he wears askew. And finally, the abnormal length of his femurs. Chongyun’s eyebrows furrow. He scratches his head. Why are his legs so long?

Childe leans into Zhongli’s side and grins wickedly upon noticing his vision.

“A cryo wielder, huh?” he snickers, “this is going to be fun.”

Mona is horrified to see the way the two never leave each other’s side.

Where there is Childe, there is Zhongli. Where there is Zhongli, there is Childe. Frankly, it is quite concerning. Do the two ever separate? Do they ever have an individual thought? Do they share those, too? Honestly, Mona thought she and Keqing were attached at the hip. But the fact that they can at least go to the bathroom separately says a lot more than what she can say for Zhongli and Childe. Seriously, these two act as if they’re never going to see each other again.

Regardless, Mona can’t bring herself to be surprised. From the moment she met the wild card that is Tartaglia, she knew that he and Zhongli were a good match. It was undeniable that the two had chemistry. Mona may not have been there for Aether’s adventures in Liyue, but she has seen enough of these two to know that they have quite the history. Although, that’s not the only thing about them that catches her attention. What was especially strange, however, was the way their pinkies would twitch anytime one would stray too far from the other.

It has been happening for a little over a week. Take, for example, this morning when the two had taken over the kitchen to allow Keqing to sleep in. Tartaglia moved to the far left side of camp to gather some ingredients, and Zhongli’s pinky had twitched and stretched out to where Childe was, not too far from him. At first, Mona had thought it was a Liyuan custom that she had no knowledge of, like the way Zhongli always told her to raise her pinky whenever she would drink. But this felt different. It looked effortless and candid, almost like Zhongli had no idea that it was happening.

The second occurrence was later in the afternoon when Aether had given them a new list of commissions for the day. Tartaglia was practically vibrating with excitement at the mention of four separate battles, and even offered to handle two of them on his own while the other four (Keqing requested a day off) separated and completed the other two. Aether had looked at him pointedly and shook his head no. They either did this as a team, or not at all.

Mid battle, while Childe was up against a blazing axe mitachurl, the jade shield that Zhongli had put up for him withered and dropped as soon as the mitachurl raised its weapon to swing violently at Childe. The wild look in its eyes made it very clear that the creature was out for blood, ready to defend the land that belonged to it. If Childe were to fumble for even a second and meet the brandished blade of the axe, it would have been the end for him.

His eyes widened.

Almost immediately, both of their pinkies twitched in place and stretched out as if reaching for the other. Mona watched the duo from the sidelines with curiosity as she and Chongyun froze a group of hilichurls together. She had sent out an illusory Phantom to continuously deal hydro damage and allowed Chongyun to go crazy with his claymore. The astrologist had sat back and observed the two on the opposite side of the battle field.

It had gone like this: the jade shield drops, their pinkies flutter, and Zhongli whips around with a level of ferocity and speed she’s never seen before to frantically summon a geo pillar right in between Childe and the mitachurl.

The Harbinger moves backwards just in time for the pillar to bear the brunt force of the swing, and his head snaps to where Zhongli stood. He stares at him, pointedly unamused with Childe’s recklessness, while he holds two hilichurls away from him with the butt end of his polearm. Childe grin and nods his thanks, and Zhongli rolls his eyes at the overzealous soldier. With a flick of his wrist, the geo wielder summons another shield to encompass Tartaglia as he lets loose on the battlefield. Though this time, Mona can see how the ex-Archon doesn’t let him out of his sight.

Childe switches to his melee style then. He forgoes his bow in favor of his hydro blades and launches forward while the mitachurl’s axe is stuck in Zhongli’s pillar.

Mona gasps, and a hand flies up to cover her mouth. Chongyun’s attention snaps to where she stands and gives her a once over to check for injuries. She waves him away, telling him to shut up even if he hadn’t said a word.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the water Childe summons bends the sun’s rays a certain way until a very obvious, very crimson, very rare string of fate is revealed between Zhongli and Childe. It hangs between them languidly, but anytime either of them moves away too far, it’ll be pulled taut. They’re linked together by an invisible thread that Mona has only ever heard stories of; they were stories that spoke of a whimsical and eternal love that lasted liftimes and exceeded generations. The first time Mona had heard about it, she scoffed at the idea of having your partner chosen for you. But as she stands now, looking at Zhongli and Childe as they treat the battlefield as if it were a dance floor reserved for them, it felt almost illegal for either of them to be with anyone other than each other.

Her mind comes to a screeching halt when she realizes just how long Zhongli must have waited to meet him. Six thousand years, Mona ponders. But doesn’t the wait make the reconciliation all the more delicious?

Would you look at that, the astrologist thinks smugly, they’re tied by the pinkies.

It was never an accident, after all. These two souls, regardless of the six thousand year old gap between them, were meant to be together.

Oh, she has so much to tell Keqing when she gets back.

Lovely fanart!

My twitter!

#zhongchi #tartali #targlex chapis #Genshin Impact fanfiction #genshin impact #zhongli #childe #zhongli x childe #tartaglia #rex lapis #they're in loveeee #soulmates #red string of fate

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toujoursmiraculous · 3 years

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Thoughts and Reaction to WISHMAKER

Oh I'm so excited about this one! Marinette's little soft looks she gives Adrien in recent episodes before snapping herself out of it is adorable. Not overwhelming, just nice. Poor Adrien doesn't know what he wants to do. But the thing that hurts me most (probably because I was always in the same position he is in, so understand more than hurt from it) is the fact he thinks that with Ladybug adding more people to the team, he won't be needed and thus won't be Chat Noir anymore. OOOF it hurts! Poor Adrien doesn't realize that if Ladybug didn't give these Miraculous out, Shadow Moth would've gotten their Miraculous from them a long time ago. I rewatched all episodes out now in chronological order, and it's so obvious she cares about him and could not be able to do what she does without him. What needs to happen is for her to not only tell him that, but express it somehow for him to believe it.

"Come on, Plagg. It's time to start thinking about our future." OUR future. He's including Plagg in that future. Good! I definitely understand what this episode is trying to get across about jobs and careers, but a majority of people can't and never end up doing a job or career they love and gives meaning. Some struggle just to find something they can do with their circumstances, much less something that'd make them happy. A very good message though to encourage young kids to look into many interests and try to find what you enjoy to life to end up doing that makes an impact on the world to spread the positivity and happiness. Hey hey hey Alec, how dare you go after Andre the Ice Cream Maker?! But good on him for not letting it affect him at all, he's doing what he loves so the criticism doesn't matter. "Pistachio and pecan for the clear-sighted young man!" "Who? What young man?" "Hello Marinette." I love Luka so much and Andrew's voice is so smooth. x3 I've wanted to learn the violin for years, I have one, but have never been able to do much with it. Luka having and playing his violin makes me incredibly happy (and adore him even more). "Whoa. You definitely have a gift for finding the right words at the right time." "Adrien." "Ah, well, most of the time." LOL But this entire scene. Luka saying you haven't told him about your feelings have you, her noticing he's sad, and Luka being like let's go talk to him and help him then! Just. AWWW! Poor Adrien has so much pressure to find something he wants to do or his dad will make him do what he wants instead. That's going to make it even harder for him to find something... I remember a spoiler from a long time ago, of Adrien baking with Marinette. What if he finds he loves it when that happens, and it's what he wants to do? :o Ahahahaha when Luka goes and sits next to Adrien, Adrien looks up at Marinette expectantly to sit down too. Probably thought by him. but she went the safe route and went next to Luka. xD Adrien, thinking he knew what Luka and Marinette want to do. Luka knows what he wants but it isn't what Adrien or the rest of us thought. Marinette thought she knew but now she's not sure at all. So all three are kind of confused and it's complicated. Life's complicated. Have you noticed, this is the most honest Marinette and Adrien have ever been about something so deep and personal to them? And they're able to do it around each other. Because Luka's there. He's like their emotional guide to help bring them closer and I love it. "Nothing, my mind is empty!" "I'm completely lost!" - Marinette and Adrien say together. Dang. When Luka explains Marinette and Adrien's "inner music" that felt like the most deep and personal scene this show has ever had. "You two will eventually find what's already in front of you," he says before he knew. As they look at each other. Oh lovely foreshadowing moment here. "But you can't hear it clearly, just let the melody flow." In other words, let things happen as they should. Don't force anything. If it feels right to do something, do it. If it doesn't, don't. Wow that violin is so beautiful. Adrien and Marinette's reactions in

sync, the surprise at the tune, the contentedness, and wordlessly looking at each other before getting up and sitting closer. Such a beautiful scene, this has me in awe honestly. "I've wasted my life!" oh I'm sure that hit hard with some of us older viewers. :c I have trouble sometimes not thinking this way, but there's always still time to change how things are. I love that everyone's dreams are either sweet and positive or just plain silly. Like CrocoJagged.

Hey, hi there, son! I absolutely lost it LOL this was brilliant! And the way he runs away on his hind legs it's too much XD "Hey Adrien, go hide behind that tree!" and then he drags Marinette along to hide her. So funny he's the one taking control in this situation. He's really shown his superhero potential in this and Optigami, even when not suited up. oooh Marinette wasn't where he brought her. That was sus. "HEEEELP I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!" "If we get hit, we'll reveal our secret identities!" "What do you mean, m'lady?" "When I was six I wanted to be the Knitting Fairy, and the Knitting Fairy didn't wear a mask!" The fact she's distracted and Chat Noir had to be paying attention to pull her to safety was such a Ladybug move. What do you mean you're not needed, Chat?! Obviously you are! Also she's giving you information about herself! LISTEN. She never used to and doesn't have to tell you these things, she's choosing to! And she even asked about you and your childhood! "You must have just forgotten!" or didn't have one. I honestly didn't have a dream as a kid, either. I don't know, I never wanted to grow up and be anything in particular that I thought I could do. I didn't have wishes of things I wanted to do for fun much either. I don't know why exactly, but I had a dad that's enough like Gabriel so maybe that's why. (My sister proceeded to tease me about being a sentimonster, since there's that "Adrien's a sentimonster" theory going around). "But Dad, crocodiles know how to swim..." "I didn't when I was a kid!" THIS SCENE XDD I love it! "If Chat Noir and I get hit, you must come back to this exact moment." Yeah it was at that point my suspicions of Luka finding out about them both seemed to be very likely to happen. "Nobody can know about our secret identities." At this point I was going omg omg omg omg the entire time lol The fact that Adrien would decide to have his identity revealed so he could learn more about himself to help him in the future. o.o This poor boy! And here's Luka finding out about Marinette being Ladybug! The dramatic zoom in! Viperion goes "Marinette?!" literally with Chat less than a foot away and he doesn't even budge. He's really that sad he's not even paying attention to what's going on Dx Okay, Ladybug calling on her Lucky Charm just to have the plushie squeak in her hand got me lol "My childhood dream is being what my parents wanted me to be!" Adrien seems happy. And he's himself, it looks like, so I don't know if we just got it cut off short or if he is exactly what his parents wanted him to be, so he's happy knowing that information?

This back and forth between a serious moment and a hilarious one! Shadow Moth's horrified Adrien's Chat Noir lolol not even the same kind of reaction that was in Chat Blanc when he found out . Okay but back to Luka. I think he was much too far away to hear what Adrien was actually saying, but he can see that it's Adrien standing where Chat Noir was.

He sees Adrien's where Chat Noir was.

The realization that Chat Noir is Adrien.

Understanding exactly what it means for Marinette to be Ladybug and Adrien to be Chat Noir. It's interesting how the people of Paris were able to still have jobs that was as close to their childhood dreams as possible. The man that wanted to be Santa makes toys. Mr. Banana wanted to be a cucumber and while he's not one, he wears a Banana suit every day. Jagged wanted to be a crocodile so the closest he could get was to have one as a pet. Marinette wanted to be the Knitting Fairy and look at all she can knit and sew! Alec: "When I was a kid, I just wanted people to be happy!" so sad that his bullying made him want to make others miserable instead. But it's nice that he wants to start now trying to make others smile and be happy c: "Sorry Alec, but when you're a superhero, even your dreams have to remain a secret." But she told Chat Noir hers. If that's not her going in the direction of outright telling him who she is....! Please let Luka be the one to help Ladybug with Chat Noir and Adrien with Marinette. Please. They need it. They have to have Ladybug realize her feelings for Chat and be willing to tell him everything. And they need Adrien to open his eyes and realize his feelings for Marinette. Once those things happen, they'll be okay. Except Adrien still doesn't know what his dream is because that was taken away by Second Chance. Personally, I think his dream of wanting what his parents wanted him to be, is what he already is. He just doesn't know it. As for his future, that can be up to him to start finding! "Thanks to you, our secret identities were persevered and nobody discovered who Chat Noir and I really are..... uh, not even you, right?" "Not even me. Luckily Wishmaker never hit you or Chat Noir." LIES Funny that he was "Truth" before, but now he's spitting lies. HOWEVER don't worry, I understand very much why he's lying and with the way Marinette is, this would be something she'd worry about and obsess over and Luka doesn't want that for her. He knows he can handle it, and she'll find out about it later when she's meant to. I just think it's ironic and funny lol And ooooof the way Luka's face fell after she left. Poor bb. "It was nothing, Marinette. You know you can always count on me." Luka's going to be Marinette and Adrien's best friend in a way that Nino and Alya just can't be. I can feel it. "We're all okay. Thanks to Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Oh. Oh you dorks! It's like they somehow know deep down they're Ladybug and Chat Noir with that look at that line. They're looking at each other like they know to some extent... I'm sure nothing happened in an episode we have yet to see but, it feels a bit weird, don't you think? "I may not remember my childhood dreams, but that's okay! It's time to focus on the future and find my inner music, like Luka said!" AWWW good for you my precious sunshine boy! Keep being you. Also Adrien's disturbed look at Plagg killed me again.

Marinette: "I'll do it all! .... I'll be Luka's best friend and I'll love Adrien!" Yeah see, that's it! You guys are best as best friends, and Luka will one day find someone else and he'll be happy to have you as his best friend when that time comes too. As far as all the other stuff, that sounds very busy and exhausting, but if it makes her happy! "How can you love other people if you don't love yourself?" Oh dang, that's such a good line to have put in this show honestly! Nicely done. So this is definitely one of if not my favorite episode. Chat Blanc's been my favorite but this is at least up there with it! There's so much to take from this episode, and so much that can come from this episode's events that I'm both extremely excited and scared to find out what happens next.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #ml spoilers season 4 #wishmaker spoilers #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #viperion #thoughts and reaction to wishmaker #toujoursmiraculous thoughts and reaction

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lokilickedme · 3 years

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The Queen of Springtown

I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a true story. There’s a bit of conjecture here and there to fill in empty spots, but not a lot. It’s a story about my grandmother - my paternal grandmother, not my maternal grandmother - I feel the need to specify who exactly it is because mom’s mom has a bit of a story too, but that’s for later.

This one’s about the one I’m going to call Elizabeth. Elizabeth was her middle name, it was a family name, it belonged to her mother and her grandmother I believe, though I didn’t know any of those people so I couldn’t swear by it. The family records are long gone if they ever existed.

Elizabeth’s last name was one of those romantically ridiculous names that still clung to old families at the turn of the century. It had a lot of extraneous letters at the end, a handful of unnecessary and partially silent sounds that looked beautiful in the flowery handwritten script of the time, a noble sounding -eaoux that did little more than tag a fancy sounding o onto the back end. A lot of fuss for such a little piece of sound. And when Elizabeth’s grandfather moved his family from France to Ireland and signed the manifests upon arrival in the new old land, he dropped the -eaoux and shortened the family’s name to four tiny letters and a single syllable. They were Irish now.

Elizabeth’s father carried the new name and the new heritage, and when he was of age he went and married an Irish beauty named - yep, Elizabeth. They say she was redheaded and blue eyed and fair skinned, though no pictures exist to prove it. All that exists is my grandmother, who supposedly looked just like her mama. She didn’t remember Ireland...she was too young when her daddy moved his family to a new land just like his own daddy had done, and she never really told anyone she was Irish. No one actually knew, once her parents were gone.

But you could tell. She looked it - flame red hair, china blue eyes, fair skin. She had the bones of whatever French nobility had been in her lineage from way back, but her colors were the Emerald Isle all the way. A beauty like you’d see in the movies, petite and ladylike and perfectly put together.

But my god that woman had a wild streak that dated right back to the Celts whose blood made up half of what she was.

(continued under the cut because long story)

So Elizabeth grew up in America, the daughter of an Irish mother and a French father. She had brothers and sisters, quite a few, though I never knew any of them. I believe I met two of them when I was too young to remember much about the encounter, but I’ve always found it hilarious that one of her sisters was named Bill. Bill, like the man’s name. I never found out why and I’m not entirely sure there was ever actually a reason. It was just one of those things.

The newly American family settled in Texas. And when Elizabeth was very young - probably not yet in her 20′s, though nobody knows for sure just how old she actually was because it’s likely she tended to fib a bit about her age to get into places she had no business being - she got herself involved with the Texas mafia.

Now let me tell you a thing or two about the Texas mafia. It wasn’t an official operation - not like the Italian Mafioso or the Eastern Syndicates or whatever the hell was going on between Florida and Cuba at the time. But it was every bit as dangerous and vicious and bloody and corrupt as any of those bigger organizations, and it was led for the most part by a man I’m going to call Big Joe.

This was the early 1940′s or thereabouts. Elizabeth was a party girl - up for anything, always out and about, girl-gang at the swing club, the works. And Big Joe saw her in the club one night, it may very well have been his club she was dancing at, and the proverbial first-sight thing kicked him hard in the gonads. This girl was a looker, and she was dancing with everyone in the place, whooping it up, living life like tomorrow it was all going to take a header into the sea. He had to have her.

And he did.

Big Joe was likely in his late 30′s, maybe early 40′s. There’s not a lot of information on him other than a handful of facts mentioned once and only once by my grandmother to my aunt - that Big Joe was a handsome man, big and tough and a snazzy dresser, and he always had enough money in his pocket to take Elizabeth anywhere she wanted to go and buy her anything she wanted to buy. And Elizabeth, party girl extraordinaire, was all up for that.

So Elizabeth and Big Joe become a thing. Everybody knows she’s his squeeze - and suddenly not a male soul in Dallas or the surrounding metropolitan areas will dare to lay an eye on her, not even a quick glance, because she’s Big Joe’s girl. And that means something. Elizabeth doesn’t know quite what it means because she’s likely not even 20 yet, but Big Joe is fun and romantic and he takes her on trips and buys her nice clothes. He buys her a ring, a blood red garnet, a ring that I inherit many decades later. He’s going to marry her, he says. She doesn’t care much one way or the other, she’s having too much fun dancing every night in his club, traveling with him, going shopping, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous of the Southwest. She’s all but a star, protected and adored. Big Joe’s men follow her everywhere she goes when she’s not with him. And Big Joe starts going out of town without her a lot, taking care of business that he never tells her the details of.

She’s cool with that. He’s a businessman, that’s what he’s always told her. Things to take care of out of town. The Boss. He has a lot of operations to oversee, operations that make all that money he spends on her.

She has no idea what he actually does.

All she knows - or cares to know - is that when he comes back to town he ushers her around town in his big fancy black car, buying her furs and expensive dinners, showing her off to society. When he isn’t slapping her around...but hey, that’s part of the deal isn’t it? It’s the 1940′s, and Big Joe is very much a man of the era. Women grew up knowing they’d have to take the back of a man’s hand from time to time, and Elizabeth knew which side her bread was buttered on. She kept Big Joe happy, put a smile on his face, did the old grin-and-bear-it on the rest of it.

And then one night Big Joe comes banging on her door. He’s frantic. He pushes a set of keys into her hand - keys to the fancy black car that takes her everywhere - and tells her to keep it there, at her house. Don’t drive it anywhere, just keep it there. He’ll contact her soon and tell her what to do.

He leaves in another car with one of his men, and that’s the last time Elizabeth ever sees him.

A few weeks later she gets a letter from Big Joe telling her to drive the car into Grapevine Lake, on the far side by the shoals. Don’t open the trunk, he says. Put a brick on the gas pedal and put it in drive. Do it at night and make sure nobody sees you.

That night Elizabeth picks up her best friend and they drive the car to Grapevine to do as Big Joe said, sinking it in the murky green water on the far side of the lake. The two girls - just girls, barely even women yet - stand on the shore watching it disappear into the deep dark.

A week later Big Joe is shot to death. A deal gone bad maybe, or a competitor moving into the territory. Nobody really knows - grandmother never said. Don’t think I haven’t done my research...I know what I know, and according to a nearly nonexistent little trove of newspaper articles microfiched in a tiny little library in Azle Texas that isn’t even there anymore, odds are very likely that Big Joe went down in a shootout with the Dallas Police Department.

Elizabeth never opened the trunk of that car. At least she said she didn’t...it’s one of the many things that nobody ever knew or will ever know, because once she shut the door on that part of her life and moved on, it might as well have never happened. Getting this much out of her was outrageously difficult. Thanks to my very tenacious and very persevering aunt, what I’ve just told you managed to survive. It’s very likely my aunt was the only person she ever told, and it’s very likely I in turn am the only person my aunt ever told. And now my aunt is in her 70′s and in poor health, and this little unknown family story has started poking around at the back of my skull. I don’t want it to be lost. I don’t like the idea of soon being the only person alive who knows it. It’s not a spectacular story, but it’s testament to the fact that extraordinary things happen to ordinary people, probably more often than you’d think - and that those ordinary people sometimes take it all to the grave with them.

Elizabeth - my dad’s mom, my grandmother, the one I look like and act like and laugh like, the one whose cheekbones and eyes and hair and size I was born with, passed away twenty-something years ago. She lived through some extraordinary things. After the demise of Big Joe she married an oil roughneck, one of the semi-transient oilfield workers that were prevalent in the Texas Panhandle at the time, and had two children with him - one of whom was my father. The roughneck was the epitome of the James Dean romantic brooding bad boy type, handsome and manly, but unfortunately also a scoundrel who had a second family in another city that he went to every other month when he traveled to another rig for work. She left him when she found out. It was almost unheard of at the time, a young mother taking her two little kids and leaving her husband to be on her own, but she did it. And when my father was 12 she met and married a very tall, very handsome, very Cary Grant-esque railroad worker who loved life every bit as much as she did.

They were together for the rest of her life. I’ve never to this day seen two people more in love than Elizabeth and Jesse. I spent many summers in Texas with them and not a night went by that I couldn’t hear them giggling in the next room after lights-out, talking and laughing quietly until granddad’s wallshaking snores echoed through the house. It just about killed him when her heart gave out. But she was old, and she’d lived a life worth living. There was nothing in her face in those final moments that could ever convince anyone she wasn’t ready and willing to go when the time came.

I’d been married for a couple of years when she died, and my husband and I traveled to Texas for the funeral. The first night there, as my aunt brought out grandmother’s jewelry box and told me to take whatever I wanted, the story was passed from her to me. And when it was all told I opened a little drawer in the bottom of the jewelry box and pulled out an old garnet ring that I’d seen before, when I was a small child snooping in grandma’s stuff. I’d always been fascinated with it...it just looked like it had a story to tell. That’s it, my aunt said. That’s the ring he gave her. That’s all she ended up with.

It was the only thing I took.

The church was so full the next morning you’d have thought it was the final sendoff for some local celebrity. Everybody loved my grandmother, everybody, but this was sort of astounding. Some of them I knew from my childhood, from many many summers spent in the Panhandle, but people came from all over to say goodbye and nobody in the family knew who a lot of them were. They just showed up, some of them cried, some just stood in the back of the church all stoic in black suits. Some were very old. And when it was over and I turned around to watch a group of distinctly important-looking old gentlemen quickly and quietly leave the building, I looked over at my aunt and pointed at them. She arched her eyebrows in that way she always did, that way, the way that said What did I tell you?? - and I wondered if maybe all those years ago some of Big Joe’s men hadn’t pulled that car out of Lake Grapevine and found the trunk empty.

I mean...this is Elizabeth we’re talking about.

#true story

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neonponders · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

#harringrove #wip wednesday #this is a long one i'm sorry lol #also do check out the mummy au linked above for a much happier wip lol #neonponders #lazybakerart #the art of steve in a blindfold can also be considered a wip?#i'll reblog it for everyone haha #ficlet #break-up/getting back together

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Spilled Drinks & Study Sessions༄ mark l.

↳ When you’re forced into a study session with your next door neighbour Mark, who also happens to be your academic rival in school, things go south very quickly.

pairing; mark lee x reader

genre; fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers (more like friends, but anyway)

wordcount; 2503 words

author’s note; how the hell do you guys write e2l and make the transition so smooth? bro i could never. also, the header pic is different than what i normally do :/ it’s kinda eh, but i liked the picture so i had to do something with all that empty space

Request 26: Mark + “Oh, are you ticklish?” (73) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧. | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬.

The animosity between you and Mark is intense and painstakingly obvious to everyone around you. Well, everyone besides your parents, you suppose.

“Can you stop being so loud? You’re distracting me,” you grumble, angrily flipping through your homework.

“Well, I’m sorry for breathing.” Mark rolls his eyes at you. “Would you rather I stop entirely instead and drop dead right here, right now?”

“At least it would be quieter if you did.” You press your pen down harder, taking your rage out on your poor, innocent worksheet. If you’re going to blame anyone for the excruciating torture your homework is enduring, you’d blame Mark. Even if it technically isn’t his fault, you’d still pin the blame on him.

“What’re you gonna do with my body? You wouldn’t be able to lift me, I mean, you couldn’t even open that can of Coke.”

Your cheeks grow warm, mentally replaying the image of a grinning Mark as he effortlessly opened your can of Coke, the soft hiss of its fizz taunting you. Mark had puffed up his chest triumphantly like he was some kind of hero. For crying out loud, he had only opened a can of Coke, not saved his country. It still bruised your pride though, having to ask for help from Mark, your sworn rival since middle school. Childish, you know, but you’re certain that Mark thinks of you as such too.

“Whatever,” you fumble for a name to call him, “nerd.” Mark snickers at you. “My fingers were just slippery.” He arches a brow, challenging you, and you scowl. “I wouldn’t be able to lift you because you’re heavy, fatass. Not because I’m weak.” You twirl a lock of your hair around your finger. “And look who’s talking, Mr. I-Can’t-Open-Doors.”

Mark flushes crimson as he silently fumes. “That was because I was pushing the pull door!”

“That’s even worse, Mark,” you tease, unable to suppress a smile. “Dumbass,” you mumble below your breath, enjoying the way Mark seethes.

“You’re calling me a dumbass? If I remember correctly, I was the one who placed above you last term.” Mark haughtily flips a page in his workbook. “Which I think is why your parents want me to tutor you.”

You throw a measly eraser shaving at Mark in rebuttal. “You know that’s not why I’m here!” Another shaving is thrown at Mark’s head, yet he doesn’t even look up at you. “In fact, your parents probably wanted me here so I could babysit you!”

Neither you or Mark are right. Your parents just chucked you together because they thought that after all those years of living beside one another and having weekly dinners together, you two would be absolutely wonderful buddies, and you can’t fault them for assuming such a thing.

Logically speaking, you and Mark are supposed to be the bestest of friends. As much as you dislike the word, it seems as if fate has decided that you two are meant for each other. Gross.

In almost every situation possible, you and dear Markie boy over here have been unwillingly strung together—from group projects, to assigned seats, you two just can’t get a break from one another.

Your parents had innocently thought that having a little study session while they went out for a double date with Mark’s parents would be beneficial for you two. Perhaps even fun. Fun, your ass.

All those years spent with Mark hasn’t made you friends, no, it’s made you rivals.

Yeah, so not sworn enemies, but what’s life without a little exaggeration?

You’ve always been a bright kid, some would even go as far to say that you’re ‘gifted’, but you think ‘persevering’ is a better word to describe it. You weren’t just born naturally intelligent or outstandingly athletic, no, you’ve had to work hard, insanely hard, for that. It hadn’t been handed to you all nicely wrapped with a little bow to match, just for you to tear it open and take. You’ve had to tolerate and undergo several sleepless nights, and many agonising hours of training.

Up until middle school you were top of your class in all aspects. You were idolised (well, as idolised as you could be for a middle schooler anyway), loved and acknowledged. It had been blissful.

That was until, little Mark with that stupidly cute gleam in his eyes came along, skipping over to you in those worn-out track pants and smiling toothily as he introduced himself as your brand new next door neighbour.

You have to admit, initially, you and him were close friends. You’d walk home together, sneak out to go to the convenience store together, share snacks together, the list goes on. You’d even given Mark your very first kiss, right on the cusp on your twelfth birthday. He didn’t know that it was your first kiss though, and he’ll never know. You’d rather be shot at point blank range than give up such private intel.

But when one day, in seventh grade, when Mark had begun closing in on you in rankings, outrunning you at the park and gradually being everyone’s new favourite, you found yourself isolated. Even one of your friends, a girl with straight long hair that fell past her waist, started hanging out with Mark more than with you.

And when you invited her to your thirteenth birthday, the first thing she’d asked was, “Is Mark going to be there?”

And at that same party, you saw her, kissing the boy you had been crushing on for the past year. And it looked like Mark really enjoyed kissing her too. More than he did with you.

From that point on, you began to distance yourself from Mark. It was gradual, slow, but you knew Mark could tell. When he finally surpassed you academically too, you started harbouring a resentment towards him, and the rivalry between you two started.

You were somewhat hoping he’d confront you, at least wonder why your attitude towards him had seemed to change in the blink of an eye, but he hadn’t. And that stung.

Obviously rumours had circulated in middle school about what was going on between you two. Kids, no, people love to talk. And talk they did.

It had been widely known that you and Mark used to be inseparable at one point in time, and it was jarring seeing how differently you two were acting around each other.

Mark and that friend of yours had broken up some time after that, and evidently she was pissed. It seemed as if she had begun spreading gossip about you, claiming that you had been some sort of psycho ex-girlfriend and that you had threatened Mark to break up with her, essentially, she was villainising you.

When high school finally rolled around, Mark’s ex had moved by then—you weren’t sure where and you didn’t care to know. The rumours eventually died down with her absence, and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you and Mark could finally make amends, bury the hatchet, as one would say. But that never happened.

Looking back, you’re a bit amused at what an eventful and dramatic childhood you had. All those scandals at just thirteen? What a boss bitch. Present you would not be able to stomach that.

You take a peek at Mark. He’s attractive. Of course he is. He had been a cute kid, no doubt, but as he’s aged, he’s matured into his good looking features. He’s not the rugged and manly kind of good looking, he’s got more of a sweet boyish look to him, and in your opinion, it adds to his charm.

“What are you staring at?”

Shit, you’ve been caught. No, caught? It’s not like you were doing something you shouldn’t have. “Nothing.” You reach forward to take a sip from the infamous Coke can. It’s lukewarm, but you gulp it down regardless, trying to appear unfazed.

“Were you checking me out?”

Disaster strikes just as those words leave Mark’s lips. The putrid sensation of warm coke leaves your mouth entirely, not because you’ve begrudgingly swallowed it all, but because you’ve spit it out from the sheer shock of Mark’s question.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Mark stands from his chair across from you and its legs scrape against the floor with a sound that makes your skin crawl.

You cough and sputter, gasping for air. Once you’ve gotten past that tight feeling in your throat, you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. A few droplets of the sugary drink dribble onto your shirt. But fortunately, well for you at least, you’re not as drenched in spit-laced Coke as Mark is.

“Shit!” You lift your gaze to look at Mark, who’s surprised, to say the least.

Mark takes a breath to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he clamps his mouth shut, opting to groan in annoyance instead. “Jesus, why’d you even do that?”

Your face burns in embarrassment. No way you’re going to admit to him that you were checking him out. Sort of. “I don’t know, it just went down the wrong channel, I guess.”

Mark’s lips form a thin line of dissatisfaction. “Yeah, okay, whatever.” He cringes as his shirt sticks to him. “ I’m gonna go change.”

He runs a hand through his hair, face upturned in frustration as he stomps up the stairs, his footsteps echoing throughout the living room. Your eyes follow his figure until he turns a left into his room.

You sigh. If you were home alone, you would have screamed in humiliation. The can of Coke on the table mocks you. You resist the urge to pick it up and hurl it into Mark’s neighbour’s backyard—well, your backyard.

A sliver of positivity presents itself in the form of you and Mark’s mostly unscathed worksheets. There are a few stray droplets here and there, but it’s barely noticeable. It would’ve been much worse for both Mark and you if you had drenched those as well. In fact, your homework wouldn’t be drenched in just saliva and Coke, but also in tears at that point.

You curse the can in your grasp, its aluminium smooth against your skin, before you dump it in the bin. Good riddance, bitch.

I should apologise. You can suck up your pride for that. No, this isn’t even about petty things like pride anymore. That shouldn’t matter. I should apologise, you think to yourself firmly.

Alright. Apologising. Sorry. You inhale deeply, gathering your senses and calming your jittery nerves. Why are you even nervous? It’s not like you’re professing your undying love to him. Chill the fuck out.

As you’re standing before Mark’s single, wooden door (which looks extremely daunting for some reason), it doesn’t dawn on you that perhaps you should knock first.

If it had, then perhaps you wouldn’t be staring at a shirtless Mark, your hand still wrapped around his doorknob and your mouth hung agape.

“Oh my God, Mark!” You cover your eyes, the door shutting behind you with a creak. You’re a bit ashamed at how fast your cheeks are overtaken by a hot, prickling feeling. “Why are you naked?”

Mark, though just as startled as you are, has the common sense to reach blindly for the stained shirt he just took off, holding it in front of him. “What do you mean why am I naked? Why are you here?”

You take a few steps back, your back pressed up against the door. “I- I came up here to say I’m sorry. You know, for uh, just now?”

Your hands slowly fall to your sides as you burn holes into Mark’s carpeted floor with your eyes instead.

“Oh, uh, o-okay. Apology accepted, I guess.” Mark’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Let me just uhm—”

You can hear his drawer sliding open and the faint rustle of fabric. All the while you keep your gaze glued to the floor, feeling your cheeks grow warmer by the second. Oh my God, you’re acting like a little girl who’s just held a boy’s hand for the first time.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen a guy naked—for fuck’s sake, Mark’s not even naked. He’s all covered up where he should be. Why is the sight of just his bare body from the waist up making your mind go blank and your palms grow sweaty? It’s not like you have feelings for him anymore. No, you don't.

“You can uh, you can look up now.”

You steel yourself, looking up to face Mark. Why did you have to steel yourself? It’s not like he’d have taken even more clothes off once you looked up again. You feel like slamming your head into the wall.

You fiddle with your fingers, searching for something to say to try and ease the tension. “Uh, sorry. For spilling that Coke all over you, I mean.” You scratch the nape of your neck. “And for you know, walking in on you changing.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your shoulders slump. “Huh?”

Mark chuckles confidently, like he’s unabashed. His cheeks are ablaze with colour, though. “I mean, why didn’t you just back out of the room when you walked in on me changing? Why’d you just stand there?”

You blink at him. Why didn’t you just leave? “I- I froze up, okay? Don’t bully me!” Your ears are burning.

“Yeah, okay, okay.” Mark raises his hands by his sides, that entertained smile never leaving his lips. “Let’s go back down, okay? I still need to finish my work.”

You chew on your inner cheek. “Yeah, whatever,” you try to find a creative name to call him.

“Yeah, I know. Nerd.” Mark raises his brows at you, still with that amused grin. You wish you could smack it right off his stupidly handsome face.

You huff, turning on your heel and practically booking it to the stairs. Mark catches up to you in no time with long, languid strides. Stupid long ass legs.

“Hey, wait up, loser,” he says, a hint of delight in his voice. He pokes your side and you jump, shoving his hand away and mustering a weak glare at him. “Oh, are you ticklish?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “No, I’m not, fatass!” Despite your harsh tone, your cheeks deceive you, blossoming with warmth yet again.

Mark smiles genuinely this time, although there’s no sarcastic edge to it whatsoever. “You getting shy?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hey, don’t be upset!” The next thing Mark says is nearly incomprehensible, but you hear it. Oh, you definitely do.

“You look cute.”

Your head swivels to look back at Mark, and you realise that he hadn’t meant for you to hear that.

The faintest of smiles teases your lips, before you turn away, denying him the satisfaction of seeing you break out into a grin. “Yeah, whatever, Mark.”

Now, it’s Mark’s turn to be enveloped in heat as a red tint spreads across his cheeks.

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carryforthtradition · 7 months

Text

September the 29th

It’s my 52nd birthday today and I have been pondering about this day and what it means to me, to others and it’s historical significance.

birthdays

Photos; Mum with me as a bump, little me, me on mum’s knee a few weeks, or days old, me and dad on a canal barge my parent’s hired for a holiday on the Norfolk Broads..

An unusual, recurring dream

It went like this -

Photos: Me on my potty eating breakfast (glad some things have improved) toddler me on mum’s knee, me and my little sister, mum and dad one Christmas

providence

My birth day is one of historical significance; it is on St Michaelmas Day.

Link - Michaelmas, 29th September, and the customs and traditions associated with Michaelmas Day (historic-uk.com)

the fight between good and evil

Quote taken from the 2020 China Tribunal Judgment - The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China

the china tribunal conclusion

Quote taken from Final Short Form Conclusion China Tribunal

If you would like to learn more or help in any way - please look here - How you can help - The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China

good prevails over evil

#Becky James #Falun Dafa #Falun Gong #evil #St Michael #St George

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nicknellie · 3 years

Text

Wow, it’s so crazy that Noel Gallagher released a song about Sunset Curve and Julie and the Phantoms! Title and lyrics from We’re On Our Way Now by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds.

Good Luck In The Afterlife

Remember what might have been,

Had I walked you home,

And said, “I’ll see you later,”

You were living the dream,

But when the morning come,

You’d gone to meet your maker.

Bobby couldn’t count the hours he spent wondering what might have happened if he had stopped to think for just one second. If he had reminded himself that the boys were pretty much clueless if he wasn’t there to knock the occasional bit of common sense into them. If he had thought, just for a moment, that maybe they should have all gone to get the food together.

In every scenario that came to his mind, his boys were still alive. Because if he had gone with them that night instead of staying at the Orpheum, he would have noticed that the street-dogs tasted strange. He would have told them it was a bad idea, made them stop eating them, taken them somewhere else to get food. Maybe he would have had to put up with Luke’s grumbling (“They would have been fine, Bobby, it’s not like we’ve ever got sick from street-dogs before.”) but at least his boys would have been safe. Maybe the pizza they ended up getting, or the burgers, or the cheap takeout wouldn’t have been as familiar as a pre-show ritual, but at least they would have still performed together that night. At least Bobby wouldn’t have had to cancel the show, had to identify his best friends’ bodies, had to go through that painful shift to realise that now he was going it alone.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. If he had been there things would have been so different. If he had simply walked them there at the very least and said goodbye to them properly. Maybe then he wouldn’t be feeling so guilty, so struck with this devastating grief. At least that way their last memory of him wouldn’t have been him flirting with some girl instead of hanging out with them on the biggest night of their lives.

It had been stuck in his head for days. All those different what-ifs, those wasted potentials, the moments that could have been the best of their lives. It was so unfair – that night had been setting them up for greatness, possibly the most important night of their careers, and it had come crashing down along with Bobby’s entire world. It was all he could think of. They had been so ready, so excited, so full of life, and in a few short hours it had been snuffed out like a candle burning too brightly.

He remembered waking up the morning after, absently wondering if it was some cruel nightmare, but knowing it wasn’t. That night he had slept in the studio, wanting to be close to his boys in any way he could. Waking up there without them wasn’t the same – if anything it just made the loss hurt more. No matter how brightly the sun was streaking through the windows or how happily the birds outside were singing, Bobby couldn’t make himself believe that it would be a happy day. That any day, from then on, could truly be happy.

He kept thinking about it, everything they could have had, to the point where it felt as if he was remembering a past life or an alternate reality. It was like he was drawing memories from another Bobby’s brain, feeling the fame and freedom they would have held together. It was at that moment that he decided he needed to carry on. He needed to do whatever he could to achieve their dreams alone, to make his boys proud. He was sure that they were out there somewhere, watching over him, cheering him on. They could have had everything, and Bobby was determined to get it for them.

Good luck in the afterlife,

I hear the morning sun doesn’t cast no shadow,

You chose to drift away,

But look at you now.

It was Trevor Wilson who left his mansion that day. It was Trevor Wilson who got in his car and gave his chauffeur the directions of where to go. It was Trevor Wilson who climbed out at the destination, head hooded and bowed to avoid recognition. But it was Bobby who sat in the grass in front of the graves of his three best friends, the boys he had loved and never forgotten, and felt tears pricking at his eyes in the bitter breeze.

He knew he didn’t visit their graves as much as he should have. It always hurt, seeing the three of them together when he couldn’t join them himself, knowing that they were completely unreachable. It was the closest he could get but it just made him feel far away. But when he did visit, he spoke to Luke, Alex, and Reggie. He told them about his music career and how he wished they were building it with him, he talked about his new-born daughter Carrie and how she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, he talked about his memories of them and laughed over stories they wouldn’t hear.

But it was alright. If he imagined it hard enough, Bobby could almost hear them laughing along. Like they were listening to him and keeping him company even from far away.

He wondered what they were doing at that moment, if anything. Ever since they had died Bobby had been curious about the afterlife. Was there one at all? Were his boys all together or had they been separated? Was there a heaven and a hell, or just one place where all departed spirits went? Most importantly, were they alright? He didn’t think he could bear it if he ever found out, somehow, that the boys were unhappy. If they couldn’t have their lives then all he wanted for them was happiness.

He found himself wishing them luck sometimes. Good luck for whatever would come their way. He wished that good things would happen to them, that they would all find their happiness, something that made their souls sing the way they had when they were alive. Something that made Alex’s heart beat like his drums, Reggie’s thud like his bass, Luke’s riff like his guitar.

Over time, Bobby had come to terms with their deaths. It had taken years of therapy, learning to accept that he wasn’t to blame, realising that they would never come back and working out how to be okay with that. Now, he saw it less like they had been ripped away from him and more like they had simply flown the nest, their time up, ready to move on. It wasn’t necessarily true, he knew, not when they’d had so much ahead of them, but thinking about it that way helped.

When he spoke to the gravestones, he would imagine how the boys would reply. Whenever he told them about a new song he had released he heard Luke’s enthusiasm as he told him he’d done a great job, Reggie’s excitement and desperation to hear it and jam along on his bass, Alex’s quiet appreciation of the music and the way he would have hummed the tune under his breath for weeks afterwards. When he had first told them about Carrie he imagined the jokes about him getting old because he was the first to have a kid, and each of them holding her with varying levels of terror and adoration on their faces.

Most of all, he imagined them being proud of him. Proud that he had carried on and persevered this long. Proud that he had built a family from the wreckage he’d been left in and got his confidence back. Proud that even if he was Trevor Wilson now, he was still Bobby at heart.

We’re on our way now,

The truth can be so hard to swallow,

Hey now, ‘cos you’ve got the love, you’ve got the love, lady,

I’m worn out, ‘cos with every little trick they try to drag you down,

You don’t know why.

Luke hadn’t slept since the night they had played the Orpheum. Ghosts didn’t necessarily need sleep, but it was possible – Luke hadn’t even bothered trying. He simply couldn’t believe their luck. They’d struck gold and none of it seemed possible. The whole thing, this entire journey they had been on with Julie in the past few weeks felt like a dream and a nightmare, but he never wanted to wake up.

It had been difficult to begin with. It wasn’t the easiest thing, getting to grips with death and being a ghost, especially when he had apparently missed twenty-five whole years of life on Earth, everything moving on without him and his friends. It had put into perspective how much each individual life really meant – the world didn’t stop when a person died, and there was so much that could be missed in such a short time. There had been the empty space he was greeted with whenever he turned to tell Bobby something, the hollow feeling in his heart whenever he thought of his parents, the conflicted feelings he got whenever he thought about the people he had met in death. The whole thing, this monumental transition, had been harder than anything he’d ever done.

But then there was Julie. Julie, who was light a ray of sunshine to light up his darkest days. Julie, who had talent beyond measure and a heart the size of a planet. Julie, who brought him back to life. She had made it so much easier with her love and her reassurance and her strength. The way she made him feel was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he couldn’t attribute all of it to her power when she made him, Alex, and Reggie visible. His soul sang for her, a leaping melody of rich highs and gentle lows, composed for her by him. Without her, he wouldn’t have been nearly as happy as he was.

Although he missed Bobby and performing as Sunset Curve, he was glad he got this second chance as part of Julie and the Phantoms. This really felt like their big break, like they were finally on their way to achieving their greatness. In a way, everything would start to feel complete once they put themselves out there and rose to great heights. Bobby had made a name for himself, and it was time for the rest of Sunset Curve to join him, along with one incredibly talented girl who Luke would risk it all for.

But all that didn’t mean he wasn’t frightened. If anything he was even more scared. Now they had so much more to lose – each other and their second chance. He wasn’t sure they’d get a third.

There was only one person that really had a chance of ruining it all again, getting in their way. Caleb. Luke hadn’t seen him since that night and he was glad of it, but also wary. They had no idea where Caleb was, what he was planning, how he was going to get back at them this time. Caleb Covington didn’t seem like the type of ghost who knew when to leave an issue alone. Luke was sure that he would be back.

All that confused him was the fact that Caleb had never really explained why he wanted the boys as part of his band. It seemed like very extreme lengths to go to just because they were good musicians. It made him wonder if he, Alex, Reggie, and Julie had some untapped well of power deep inside each of them. If they did, and if they could harness that strength before Caleb could get to them then Luke was certain that their futures as legends would be cemented. As they deserved.

Good luck in the afterlife,

I hear the morning sun doesn’t cast no shadow,

You chose to drift away,

But look at you now.

Julie thought about her mother a lot. She knew that Rose was looking down on her, that much was certain. If she hadn’t been, then Julie would still be locked away, trapped by her grief, struggling to face each day as it came. She wouldn’t have had the boys, she wouldn’t have been playing music, she would have been quiet and empty still like she had been for so long.

It was Rose she had to thank. When she was alive, Rose would always build Julie up, tell her how much she was worth, that she was loved unconditionally and forever. Julie had thought that would all go away when she passed, but Rose – in her wisdom – had found a way to Julie still. She had carried on sending those messages and signs, showing Julie she loved her rather than telling her, urging her to carry on and be the star she was meant to be.

In return, Julie tried to find ways to thank Rose. She would talk to her because she was certain that she could hear. She would sing for her because Rose had always adored Julie’s voice. She would wear Rose’s old clothes, decorate rooms with dahlias and butterflies, sing along to the songs they had loved to duet while leaving Rose’s part free as if she would sing along too. It wasn’t a lot, but Julie knew that her mother would see it as enough. Julie’s private, quiet ways of honouring her mother would always be worth more than anything.

Sometimes, when she felt pensive, Julie would let herself think about how far she had come. She would stop being modest, just for a minute or two, and admit that she was strong, she was powerful, she was talented, and she deserved every good thing she had got. Julie hated thinking about the darkness she had been stuck in for so long, but when she thought about how she had created her own light and pulled herself out she felt nothing but pride. When she thought about what she was creating with the boys, she felt joy. When she thought about Rose, she felt a pleasant contentedness, knowing she was still there, rather than that damned hollow feeling she’d held for so long.

She could imagine how Rose would have reacted if she had still been there. After the performance at the Orpheum, Rose would have rushed backstage even if she wasn’t allowed, swept Julie up in her arms, twirled her around with a delighted laugh and told her that she was magnificent. She would have been so proud, Julie knew, so Julie felt that pride for herself.

“Look at you,” Rose would have said, straightening Julie’s jacket or running a gentle thumb across her cheek. “You’ve done so well, my little butterfly. You’re a star.”

She would have worked on songs with Julie, sang with her, prepared and supported her for her next gigs with the band. Just thinking of it made Julie realise that she had to do that herself, but it was alright. She could be her own cheerleader – her mother had taught her well and she could see that she had come a long way and deserved to be recognised for it. Besides, she had her dad, brother, and aunt there to remind her of it, as well as Flynn, Luke, Reggie, and Alex.

It wasn’t the same as having Rose, not really. Nothing ever would be. But the feelings Rose gave her would never go away – the confidence, the giddy joy, the focus, the feeling that everything would be alright eventually. Rose and her signs made sure Julie knew that. Julie schooled herself, made sure that she knew it no matter what. She always knew how far she had come and she was nothing less than proud.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 38

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: graphic depictions of violence (updated)

read on ao3

1915

and when i see you then i know it will be next to me

and when i need you then i know you will be there with me

i'll never leave you

Riza hadn’t given much thought about how she would die. The concept of death had become an intense fear when she was only a child. After her mother’s death it was suddenly very real. Berthold had silenced young Riza whenever it was mentioned, being too lost in his own grief to even begin to discuss it with her, so she’d quickly learned not to bring it up again. It was never explained to her properly, so this image of death had manifested itself in her mind as a being who took away those she loved most.

Growing older, her fear had eased somewhat. As her understanding of it grew, the fear of death lessened. That had not been an enjoyable lesson at school when her teacher first broached the subject. Sitting in pure terror, young Riza had excused herself and bolted from the room. It had been too much. However, after reassuring her teacher that she was fine, it was just a stomach bug, Riza quickly learned to swallow it and cope if the panic reared its ugly head. Digging her nails into her palms sharply, not hard enough to cause any damage, but enough to jerk her mind out and away from those thoughts worked well enough. It stopped the panic from overwhelming and consuming her completely. Once leaving school, it had almost all disappeared, having been buried so far down that it was forgotten about completely.

After her father’s death the beast returned, but it was quiet. It lurked in the darkness of the shadows but after her isolated childhood and her father’s neglect it was hard for her to muster up the same grief she felt when her mother passed. Riza always thought he’d died along with her, though. His body lived on but his soul had departed when her mother’s did. It led to a difficult childhood. The thought made the skin of her back tingle as she remembered her tattoo.

After her father’s death, for the first time in a long time, Riza felt free from his oppressive and silencing presence, as well as the burden he placed upon her. She felt like her own person, and not someone shushed and hidden away by a man who was so lost to grief and his life’s work that he worked himself until he died. She was allowed to think and feel and fear. It was freeing.

Then Roy Mustang breezed back into her life though and brightened it once more, like he’d done when he was her father’s apprentice.

After marrying Roy, the thought of death niggled away inside her mind once more. After their initial six months of bliss it was a terrifying thought to lose him. She’d found someone to love and to care for and Riza didn’t want to lose him in any capacity, which was only natural, she felt, when falling in love.

Roy made it through Ishval, alive, but at a cost. After realising she hadn’t lost him to gunfire, losing him to his mental state became another beast to tackle entirely. It had been rocky, sloppy at certain moments, but they’d made it through. They’d only been young. She’d still been young, barely even twenty. There was a lot of naiveté there, not to mention juggling being a new mother as well as a husband that was suffering from PTSD and struggling to deal with it. It was a lot to have been thrust upon her at the same moment, but she pushed through as best she could despite feeling like she was being pulled in so many different directions. If Riza could go back and change a few details from how it was handled, she would. Just to make it easier on them both. However, those choices had allowed them to grow, not just individually, but together. They’d made it through those tumultuous few months and come out the other end closer and more tightly knit. Despite the pain and heartache, it had been productive at the very least. Most importantly, they’d made it through.

Then everything with Maes… Again, Riza would change the way she’d worded things. She’d tell him to take a second to breathe and listen to her, rather than getting angry at him throwing accusations in her face. It had hit Roy harder than anyone because he felt responsible for Maes’ death. He’d been upset and angry, both very valid emotions for what they were going through, and they were both at fault with that big blowout. They were both grieving. It wasn’t an excuse, but they were only human. With that outcome, that fear of losing him to death had come rushing back, as well as losing him to himself. She didn’t want Roy to be murdered for discovering the same information Maes had. When dealing with it, the agonising time they’d found themselves in didn’t help matters, and she’d been all over the place thanks to hormones. Not their finest hour, but they’d persevered. Sitting down to a mature discussion and airing everything out had done them the world of good, despite the fallout that sparked such a deep regret inside her heart.

Every time, they’d made it through. Death and loss hadn’t come to claim them yet.

Then the Promised Day arrived.

Riza hadn’t known what to expect. She was concerned for Roy, wondering if their talk about him seeking out Maes’ murderer had been enough. In his heart, his choice may have been to remain calm and collected about it all, but until faced with that confrontation, and so suddenly too, one could never truly tell how they’d react. Roy had struggled with it. Riza could see that clearly. He didn’t want to give into his hate, but it was still there, cruelly enticing him away from her and into a realm of darkness. Envy’s teasing and mockery hadn’t helped at all, neither had the attack on her.

Thankfully, he hadn’t given in. He’d resisted. For now, in the middle of this battle, that was all that mattered to Riza. All talk and discussion of what had happened with Envy could be done afterwards when a threat to their lives wasn’t waiting around every corner.

And they needed to talk.

Roy wouldn’t look at her. Shame clouded his eyes and marred his expression. Once he’d let go of her in his desperate hug he didn’t touch her again. His hands lowered to the ground and gripped onto the stone tightly. The tips of his fingers turned white underneath his nails.

At least Edward and Scar had turned and given them some distance after Envy’s death. Riza had taken the chance for a quiet moment together to try and talk to her husband.

“Roy?”

His eyes never lifted off the ground. All he could muster was a broken, “I’m sorry.”

“Listen, Roy.”

His fingers shifted on the stone, gripping it even tighter.

Riza cupped his cheeks in her hands and slowly guided his face towards her. Well, she tried to. She was met with resistance but would not be beaten so easily. Instead, she moved so she was in front of him. Riza didn’t try to lift his head this time though. She simply kept her hands on him as a comfort. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks and she noticed him flinch slightly.

“Roy. I need you on your feet.”

No response. She could see his mind racing and the disgust in his eyes. Her hands dropped to his shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze instead.

“Colonel. We need to move.”

His eyebrows tugged downwards in confusion and his eyes flicked over to look at her, but quickly turned away. It made her chest ache that he couldn’t even look at her. Déjà vu struck, remembering how she’d done the same to him during and after Maes’ funeral. Riza swallowed, uncomfortable when the unbidden and painful memory popped into the forefront of her mind. Like him, she would persevere and help him through this.

“We can talk about this later, okay?”

Slowly, his gaze made his way up to meet hers. She gave his shoulders another encouraging squeeze and a kind smile.

“I –” His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat.

“Let’s get through today, all right?”

He scoffed to himself quietly, that disgust in his eyes twisting his expression too. She could see it tearing him apart within. He didn’t want to be that monster again and he’d fought it off. He’d chosen not to do it. Roy would never accept that, would think he failed, Riza knew that for sure.

“I really am no better than they say,” he muttered bitterly. “I’m a monster.”

Her thoughts were confirmed. “Roy –”

“I hurt you,” he croaked. His eyebrows tugged together to a frown. “Yelled at you when you didn’t deserve it. That’s inexcusable. And I did it after saying I wouldn’t.”

Riza shook her head. Roy’s head jerked to face her in disbelief, but he was met with nothing but honesty.

“We have no idea how we’ll react in a situation until we’re in it. Especially not this one.”

“That’s not good enough,” he shook his head.

“Well, they weren’t exactly playing fair either.”

“Please,” he begged her, “don’t try and make excuses for me.”

“Roy.” She commanded his attention fully and he held her gaze for longer than a second for the first time since Envy’s defeat. “I love you. And I need you on your feet. We need to keep moving forward. Don’t get stuck in the past. Not now.”

His eyes averted away briefly, but when he looked back up at her he didn’t look away. “I don’t deserve you,” Roy whispered hoarsely.

“You do,” she argued, her tone confident.

“I almost pushed you so far away that you left me. Again,” he scoffed with a barked laugh. “I do not deserve you at all. You deserve so much better,” he added bitterly.

“Well, I want to be with you. Still do. Nothing has changed.”

He shot her another disbelieving look but Riza just shook her head in the negative.

“We can sort through this like we did before, but we can’t do it here. It isn’t safe.”

Roy let out a long breath.

“Let’s get through the day and work on finishing this. We have two kids waiting for us to come home. Both of us. So I need you on your feet.”

Exhaustion was apparent as Roy lifted himself to stand. Riza latched onto his hand tightly and gave it a squeeze. He hadn’t tried to, but she wouldn’t let him pull away even if he did. Riza wanted him to know she was there for him.

“Let’s go,” he announced grimly.

Edward and Scar turned to look around, hearing Roy speak. He nodded to them both and exhaled slowly before he started to move.

They walked in silence and slowly, Roy’s grip on her hand eased over time, as did hers. They no longer clung to one another, just walked comfortably side by side. She took that as a good sign and her breathing became easier. They were moving forward again.

In her free hand, she grasped her rifle. It was not aimed or ready to fire, but it was there. It was a comforting weight and Riza was thankful for it. Her pistol had been holstered. She didn’t want to hold that again so soon. Not after pointing it at her husband’s head. That image was seared into her mind and made her stomach roil. Riza didn’t think she’d be getting over that any time soon.

At least you never had to fire it, she thought. Letting out a long breath she reminded herself of that fact.

Edward started muttering to himself as they walked, head turning left and right as he looked around the endless tunnels. Everywhere looked the same to Riza so she didn’t even pretend to know where they were headed. There was no way to tell, no landmarks, just endless doorways. Envy was right, this place was like a labyrinth.

Roy shot her a tiny smile before extracting his hand from hers. His stride lengthened as he moved ahead to catch up with Edward.

“Was it this way? Or this way?”

“Are you lost, Fullmetal?”

Riza rolled her eyes at his light mocking tone. As they bickered Scar fell into step with her, silent as he watched the two alchemists.

“You two should keep quiet,” Scar scolded suddenly, “before the enemy hears us.”

She hadn’t even considered that, but from Edward’s indignant yelling, that could very well become a possibility. She shifted her grip on her rifle, moving to hold it in both so that she could be ready to fire and defend if need be.

“Scar?”

There was no reply, but his head turned a fraction towards her, signalling he was listening.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping us back there. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to talk him down by myself.” It stung a little to admit but it was true. “I don’t know if that means anything to you. I’m not really anybody in the grand scheme of things and after what Roy did in Ishval… Well, I wanted to thank you for your kindness.”

His head turned further. Scar’s eyes were sharp as he regarded her. “Your gratitude is unnecessary.” Without another word, Scar turned and continued walking.

Still, Riza would be eternally grateful to Scar. Like she said, after what Roy did in Ishval, Scar didn’t need to assist with talking him down. His help had been invaluable, and she’d never forget it.

The group walked until finally, they came upon an open room. A man was crouched in the centre, seemingly waiting for him. Underneath his feet was a transmutation circle, drawn in white chalk. Riza gripped her rifle tighter. Roy stepped forward, partially putting himself between her and this newcomer.

“Well now,” the man said in greeting, “I wasn’t exactly expecting to have an audience. You’re going to give me performance anxiety,” he chuckled, flashing his teeth in a grin. One single tooth was pure gold and caught the light in the room, making it shine.

Edward clapped his hands and turned his automail arm into a blade. Roy and Scar readied their stances to fight, causing Riza to do the same. She didn’t like the look of this man at all. He made her skin crawl, and she was instantly alert.

“Who the hell are you?” Edward glared at him, reading his stance.

The man grinned again, his smile unsettling.

* * * * * * * * *

Riza’s rifle was knocked out of her hands by one of the Fuhrer candidates. She jumped back and out of the way of his advance, evading his swinging sword just in time. The man lunged at her, his expression completely blank and unchanging as he fought. He moved impossibly fast, but she managed to dodge far enough away so there was enough time for her to draw both of her pistols. The second one Roy had given her had lain dormant, but now it was time to put it to good use. Especially with the speed these men were moving at.

Breda had resupplied Roy with a weapon after he’d passed on his own to Riza, but after their fight with Envy, he’d given it to her. She understood the weight of such a request. Now she had two to train against him, should she need it. Riza vowed that would not be it’s purpose and she would not let things escalate as it had done before. She was adamant about that. Plus, Roy was strong enough now, she was sure of it.

Riza drew both pistols from their holster but only fired one, and in record time too, to hit her attacker’s sword arm. He crashed the ground but uttered no sound of pain. Riza didn’t trust him, but his form remained unmoving while his fingers twitched from the result of his wound. He didn’t get back up, just stared blankly ahead. He wasn’t dead but he was out of commission for now.

She lost sight of Roy as they fought. Riza tired quickly, just like she had after fleeing from Envy’s attempted kidnapping. Adrenaline was fuelling her but that would only last so long. Her legs were quivering already after everything she’d gone through that day, not to mention the blood loss from the wound on her shoulder. It hadn’t been deep, but it was still throbbing with pain as she moved.

As she leaped backwards to avoid another strike from a sword, Riza’s back collided with something solid, stopping her momentum. Springing away, she turned, weapons lifted and aimed, coming face to face with Roy. He smirked at her, his own hands ready to fight, but they dipped slightly once he realised who was in front of him. Behind him though, a candidate lifted his sword and aimed right for Roy’s head. Riza fired immediately behind Roy, making him cringe.

She killed him.

A bullet entered through the candidate’s skull and he crumpled in place, sword clattering to the ground. He didn’t get up or move.

You killed him.

Riza didn’t even think about acting before she fired. She saw the man aiming his strike to kill Roy and she pulled. There was not a moment of hesitation before pulling the trigger.

If they threatened to kill her, kill her family, then she’d fight back. There was no question about it.

“Riza!”

Her grip on both pistols grew slack. Riza was just staring down at the corpse before her. Roy was gone. He’d moved away – Riza thought she’d seen him lunge behind her but wasn’t sure – leaving the dead candidate in full view in front of her.

You killed another human being, Riza.

Someone gripped her arm roughly. She jerked away on instinct when she turned, Roy was looking at her worriedly. His eyes were wide with concern and his mouth was moving but Riza couldn’t hear a word he was saying. All she heard was the roaring in her ears.

“I killed him,” she breathed.

“Riza –”

Roy disappeared from view and grunted, punching someone out her field of vision. It took Riza a few seconds to process his quick movements.

“Riza, you with me?” He was desperate as he called to her, urging her to answer him.

“I’m…”

“Stay with me, Riza,” he breathed. Suddenly, there was a heat upon her forehead as he spoke against her skin. His lips caressed it, making her relax slightly. His touch was enough to anchor her back to the present. Riza swallowed down the vomit crawling up her throat and let loose a shaky breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Roy continued, “I am, but please, just stay with me.”

His arm wrapped around her shoulder tightly, dragging Riza in close to his body sharply. She gasped at the sudden movement. Stumbling slightly, she fought to regain her footing as Roy spun her away. He punched another candidate in the face, knocking him down to the floor.

“That should do fine. I suppose it’s about time we got started,” the doctor across the room finally spoke.

Riza turned to look at the doctor, returning to the world around her. He was standing now in the centre of a completed transmutation circle. Before Riza could comprehend it any further she was shoved forcefully backwards away from Roy. It broke her concentration and she hit the ground hard. Looking up, she saw Roy was almost standing over her, protecting her, as he fought his way through the onslaught of candidates.

Snap out of it, Riza!

She had to stand up and fight. She had to help him.

One candidate charged at Roy from the left while he was already struggling with another. He grunted and gasped, realising at the last second that he may be overpowered and beaten.

Riza fired. Twice. One shot hit the man in the shoulder, throwing him off balance so he tipped and veered off to the side. The other hit his forearm and the sword fell to the ground at the same time he did. Riza let out a breath as he remained there, grimacing in pain, but didn’t get back up.

As Roy fought off the other candidate and shoved him away, Riza stood. Once she was up she noticed the other candidates had all frozen in place, waiting for their new command now the doctor had spoken.

“You okay?”

Riza exhaled and turned as he gently touched her bicep. Roy’s worry was evident. His question was less for her physical state and more for her mental one. She wasn’t okay. She’d killed someone, taken a life. Riza didn’t think she’d ever be okay with that. But she did promise to fight to protect her family. That guilt would stay with her for the rest of her life though, she was sure.

The weight and consequences of any actions would be dealt with later, she’d told herself. If only it were that simple.

“Riza?” He was desperate for an answer. He needed to know.

She gave him a tiny nod.

“Number Sixteen,” the doctor called to the room. Candidate Number Sixteen’s head turned sharply to face him. “Number Seventeen, Number Twenty-One, Number Twenty-Three, and Number Twenty- Six. Come join me.”

Five of the candidates ran over immediately, removing themselves from the fight. They stationed themselves around the circle uniformly. Standing completely still, they remained in place for their next command.

“What’s he doing?” Edward’s cry pierced the room, then he gasped loudly, staring at the doctor. Or more importantly, what was beneath the doctor’s feet.

“Now then,” the doctor grinned. “Here goes!” His hand lifted, pointing towards the sky with his fingers splayed open. In a quick movement his hand slammed into the ground, in the middle of the circle to activate it. Blue light sprang forth into the room and the force of the transmutation kicked up a wind, buffeting her hair and jacket.

The circle changed in colour, turning purple. The light in the room turned to match it and black tendrils erupted from the floor. They stretched upwards and formed tiny hands at the end, waving side to side like long grass in the summer. Once they reached the height of the Fuhrer candidates, as soon as they made contact with their bodies, the men disintegrated bit by bit. Tiny squares of their bodies floated up into the air before vanishing into nothingness. Riza watched on in horror.

Suddenly, a large eye appeared underneath Edward’s feet. Riza reached for Roy’s arm on instinct, gripping onto his overcoat tightly. She remembered her last run in with an eye that looked exactly like that. The ghostly feelings of black tendrils wrapping around her throat and squeezing tightly made her recoil instantly.

“What,” Edward gasped in terror, staring down at the large eye beneath his feet.

The same hands that had consumed the Fuhrer candidates reached for Edward.

“Ed!” Riza cried, taking a step forward, because he too started to disintegrate. His body was disappearing, bit by bit, in tiny squares.

Edward struggled in pain, trying to fight against the grip the hands had on him.

“No… Fullmetal!” Roy shouted for him, his expression matching hers. He couldn’t believe what was happening either.

“You bastard!” Edward cried before he vanished completely. The arms snaked back into the centre of the eye, which blinked and disappeared, taking Edward along with it.

“Fullmetal!”

“He disappeared.” Riza stared at the spot where Edward had been standing. She couldn’t look away. With wide eyes she was begging the ground to return him to them, despite knowing that would not happen.

“What did you do?”

Roy’s demand wasn’t answered because the Fuhrer candidates charged as one towards them again as the doctor laughed to himself. The fighting resumed once more and Riza jumped back to avoid a lunge. She fired in response, not quite catching the doctor’s response but from what she could make out, it made a chill run up her spine.

“You need not worry where he’s going,” the doctor grinned, “because you’ll be joining him soon enough.”

Blue light flickered and sparked throughout the room as transmutations were cast by Scar and Roy. Riza’s gunfire also sounded as she worked on disarming the candidates. The memory of the one she’d killed made Riza’s jaw clench tightly and her stomach twist, but she managed to put off the urge to vomit. Adrenaline and the fight to stay alive fuelled her, pushing her to keep aiming to disarm, rather than kill, if she could.

It cost her.

One candidate was charging and managed to dodge every single one of her bullets. In a last-ditch effort she aimed for his head, feeling her heart rise into her throat, but that missed too and he quickly closed the distance. In an instant she was grabbed and flipped harshly onto her back. The air was choked from her lungs after she landed and Riza gasped as pain flared up her spine. He pressed his forearm into her throat hard, restraining her on the ground and restricting her ability to breath even more.

“You bastards!” Roy yelled. “Let her go!” His arm extended, fingers poised to snap, but a sword cut through his gloves, slicing the fabric through the transmutation circle, rendering it useless.

Riza watched as two candidates grabbed Roy’s arms, pinning them extended from his body. Her eyes widened and she struggled and fought against the hold, trying to yell at them to get off him. That cost her as well. The forearm pressed further, eliciting a harsh gasp from her. She couldn’t breathe.

Painfully they lowered Roy to a seat on the ground, both candidates still armed and ready to attack him if he fought their hold. Riza’s focus was removed from him when the candidate grabbed her arms tightly to push her roughly into a seated position. As soon as his forearm was removed from her windpipe Riza was coughing and spluttering, trying to catch her breath. Her chest heaved as she wheezed loudly.

“Careful!” Roy barked, glaring at the man holding her.

Glancing over, she saw him try and shrug off the hold they had on him before his eyes met with hers. Silently, Roy’s eyes widened a fraction as he held her gaze. He was asking if she was okay. As Riza coughed, she nodded, not breaking eye contact.

However, before given a chance to properly rest she gasped in pain. The candidate’s grip on her was unforgiving and his fingertips dug into her upper arm hard enough to bruise. Once seated, his arm wrapped around her throat with no mercy. Out the corner of her eye Riza noticed Roy was fighting to get free once more.

The doctor started to clap. “All right, good!” he praised. “Just hold him there.”

Riza’s gaze snapped up at the doctor’s specific point of wanting Roy to be held in place. It also halted Roy’s struggling, now the doctor’s attention was focussed on talking to him.

“Here we are, Colonel Mustang,” the doctor announced. “I’m afraid we’re out of time. At this point, you’ve no choice but to cooperate with us.”

Roy scowled at him and Riza shifted in place. Like hell he’d agree to work with them.

“I would like you to perform some human transmutation and open a portal for me.”

“Are you serious?” Roy looked on in disbelief, just like Riza did. That idea… There was no way.

“It doesn’t matter who. A parent you’ve lost? A lover?” The doctor turned his head to grin at Riza and she shifted uncomfortably. Roy bristled too. “A friend?”

Maes Hughes’ face flashed in Riza’s mind eye.

Roy couldn’t do it. Not human transmutation. That’s what had cost Edward and Alphonse their bodies. It was dangerous. Riza may not have known much about alchemy but she’d picked up enough as a child to know that human transmutation did not work, and it should never be tried. As she’d grown older, regrettably she’d come to learn just how devastating it could be.

“Or that man you were so close to. What was his name again? Hughes, right? He’ll do just fine. I’ll get things set up for you, right over here,” the doctor taunted.

“You mean… I’m a sacrifice?”

Alarm bells were going off in Riza’s head. She shifted again but the grip on her was too strong. The candidate tightened his arm around her throat to stop her from moving.

“Not yet,” the doctor grinned, “but as soon as you’ve opened the portal you’ll certainly become one.”

“That’s why the Elric brothers were chosen,” Roy questioned.

“Yes, it is.”

“They told me human transmutation couldn’t be done,” Roy replied forcefully. “Why would I even try to do it, knowing it would fail?” Roy was becoming more agitated by the second and all Riza could do was watch on, struggling to breathe.

The doctor laughed to himself. “You’re right there, but all I really need you to do is open the portal and then return.”

“No! Not a chance! I won’t be your puppet,” Roy spat. “You open it yourself!”

Riza relaxed slightly. Her earlier thoughts regarding him being strong enough were solidified inside her mind.

“I told you, we’ve run out of time.” The doctor’s tone and demeanour changed immediately. He was more threatening than before and a chill ran up Riza’s spine as she watched him adjust his glasses, hiding the dark look in his eyes from her.

There was a sharp pain in her neck then Riza was falling. She wasn’t sure where the pain had come from. As she tipped over she briefly saw a sword in her line of vision but was unsure why. Had that caused her pain?

“Riza!”

Her head had bounced off the ground after she fell, and that second head knock of the day had made her sight blurry and unable to focus completely. Head woozy, she focussed all her brain power on her vision.

Roy was screaming her name. She heard him, but it was as if it was from a distance. It faded in and out, which caused some anxiety for her. His voice always soothed her, and she felt like she wanted to hear it at that moment. In her gut, she knew it would help.

Riza was unable to determine why though. For a second, she blinked slowly and tried again to think about how she’d ended up horizontal on the cold ground. But no… It wasn’t completely cold. There was a warmth spreading on the side of her head and body, enveloping it like a blanket would. It was moving slowly though, which Riza thought was odd. It trickled further up her head and disappeared into her hair, completely encompassing only one side.

“I’ll kill you!”

Roy’s screaming jerked her back to reality. She gasped in pain. Suddenly, every sensation flooded her mind as the shock wore off. Her neck had been sliced cleanly. She was bleeding out and dying. They were using her against him, just like his worst nightmares, and the bastard of a doctor was almost laughing about it.

She started to move. Sharp corners from the uneven stone dug into her skin roughly as she was dragged and tossed into the centre of the circle.

“Riza, answer me!” he demanded of her, but she could barely get her mouth to work. Her tongue was like lead and refused to cooperate.

A choked breath left her lungs as she finally came to a stop. The means of delivery to her destination had not been kind, and her shoulder struck the ground hard enough to make her gasp in pain. Once the world stopped spinning Riza could just make out the sight of white chalk at the edge of her vision as it wavered. Then she saw the blood. Her blood.

She was in the transmutation circle. The bastard was trying to use her to get Roy to perform human transmutation.

He couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let him!

Anguished, desperation flooded every part of Roy’s expression. His image blurred in her vision. Riza still watched though on as he strained, wide eyed, and fought everything against him. But he couldn't escape their hold.

This was killing him.

Riza could see the tears falling down his cheeks and the way his chest heaved with his breaths. He choked, screaming once more that he would kill them for doing this to her. A violent shrug almost broke him free, but his captors quickly grabbed him once more as he called out to her, his voice cracking.

He was stuck.

And she was dying.

“Come on,” the doctor taunted loudly above her. “If you don’t hurry, your wife will be lost to you forever.”

A tear trailed down Riza’s temple, eventually getting lost in her hair. She couldn't die. She had two wonderful children to go home to once this was all over. She couldn't leave Roy all alone either. She promised she wouldn’t. They were a team.

“Ah,” the doctor continued, as if he finally realised something great, “I understand. Would you prefer to transmute your wife after she’s already died? That would be acceptable,” he reassured.

“I’m not gonna die,” Riza finally managed to choke out. A shaky hand moved to press against the wound in her neck. It was agony to talk but she had to. Riza did it for Roy. For her children. "I'm not going to leave you.”

Roy’s head perked up as she spoke, stalling his violent thrashing.

The man standing above her scoffed, rambling about immortality but Riza didn't care. All that mattered was Roy.

"Roy." Her voice was quiet, her throat scratchy. "Roy, please." She didn't want him to hurt himself, but that would be a naive request. He'd tear the world apart for her. That was a fact.

"I'm sorry." He sounded so broken, stuttering over the words. Guilt and sorrow made his chest heave as he breathed. He was breaking down further. Riza knew he would be blaming himself for this, but he couldn’t. Envy was the one who had pushed her out here, not him, and Riza had chosen to come here of her own free will. Roy would never accept that reasoning and would shoulder it all, Riza knew he would, but as the doctor said, they’d run out of time. She didn’t have the time to reassure him.

Movement from above Riza caught her attention. Despite the pain ravaging her throat, she felt shock belay it when she saw the chimeras from earlier suspended in the pipes above her. The one that looked like a toad – Riza couldn’t recall his name – pressed a finger to his lips before turning to look above, back up the tunnel.

“So tell me, Mustang, what will it be? Your precious wife is about to die. If you don’t act, she’ll bleed to death. All that blood before your eyes.”

Ignoring the doctor completely, Riza returned her attention to Roy, and him alone. No one else mattered. She had a message to get across before it was too late for her.

“It’s okay,” she croaked. Her voice was raspy as she spoke, but Roy strained forward to hear every word.

"Riza–" Eyes wide, Roy pressed his lips into a thin line. He was struggling. It was clear on his face and his body was shaking. Her heart broke for him but she pleaded with him not to give into it. He couldn’t do it. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t save her with human transmutation. Riza wouldn’t hold that against him. He had a goal to achieve for both of them. He had their children to look after too on top of that. They couldn’t be left alone.

“Remember, Mustang,” the doctor sneered, growing impatient, “I can save her life. All I need is for you to make a decision because whether you like it or not, her fate is in your hands, Colonel.”

The doctor was relentless and Riza wanted to shoot him right between the eyes for it. He was being unnecessarily cruel.

“If you don’t decide, can you live the rest of your life with your wife’s blood on your hands? Could you really do that? Could you abandon her to her fate and live on, knowing you did nothing to even try and save her?”

Riza wanted to stand and wipe that smirk off his face, but her limbs were growing too heavy, along with her eyelids.

“Wait,” the doctor remarked, “she looks so cold and still. Perhaps she’d dead already?”

Far from it, you bastard!

With renewed vigour, Roy strained forward.

“Roy, please,” she gasped, noticing his effort.

It worked though. He paused. His body and face relaxed after hearing her speak.

“You don’t have to do this. Don’t sacrifice everything that you’ve already achieved just for me,” she pleaded.

Roy let out a choked laugh of disbelief. She knew exactly what he was thinking: “How can you say something like that to me?” But she had to distract the doctor.

“But you will do it, won’t you Mustang?” The doctor just would not give up, forcefully goading Roy further.

"I love you," Riza whispered.

Roy must have thought she was saying goodbye because his eyes grew wide, his body locking, and expression turning to pure terror.

“I’ll always come back to you, Roy,” she reminded him.

“Well?” The doctor demanded an answer, finally fed up with this waiting game.

Riza’s eyes moved to look up towards the gap in the ceiling where the chimeras were waiting. That was her signal. When they returned and refocused on him again, Riza saw Roy turn away from her. His entire body relaxed as he averted his eyes, his fringe curtaining the orbs Riza loved so much, hiding them from her.

"All right."

Panic seized her. For a brief second, she was unsure of his meaning. Her breathing halted completely and the grip on her neck went slack as her strength waned.

“Good!” The doctor’s exclamation was full of triumph. “I knew you’d see reason!”

“All right, Riza. I won’t perform the transmutation!”

He hadn’t been agreeing to do it before, like she’d feared. Roy had turned away because he was full of shame while admitting defeat. It cut him deeply not to fight for her but he was trusting her. She was grateful for that.

"You won't even save your wife?" The doctor was incredibly surprised, taunting Roy, and Riza saw his shoulders stiffen. Roy’s lips parted as his teeth clenched together hard and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. "That's cold, Colonel,” the doctor remarked, but Riza didn’t particularly care for his feelings on the matter.

Riza thought Roy might snap again. His body language expressed his desire to. Silently, she thanked him for trusting her, despite the pain it was causing him.

Blinking once, Riza's vision blurred for longer than it had before. Sucking in a breath, she felt herself beginning to panic as the corners of her vision grew darker. She was fading. Her hand slipped completely from her neck. The back of her knuckles hit the ground and she could feel the digits were slick with her blood.

Riza didn't know what the chimeras above her were waiting for but she wished they would hurry up. She didn’t have long left and she couldn't die! She couldn't do that to her children or to Roy. Riza refused.

There was a burst of movement and sound around her, but she was unable to determine what had happened. Her brain was too sluggish as she was fading faster.

No! She couldn't die! Not down here!

Fight.

Sudden heat startled her from losing consciousness. But only for a second. Riza’s eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Hands grabbed her tightly, easing her with the greatest of care onto her back. There was a sudden warmth against her cheek, and it was nice as she felt her body growing colder.

Roy... That was the only person who would be holding her so tenderly down here, Riza thought. However, it was fleeting as she was losing her grip on everything. She barely even felt him gently removing the strands of bloody hair from her face. Or stroking her cheeks, temples, and closed eyelids with his thumbs.

She started to drift as Roy screamed her name in the distance. He ordered Riza to open her eyes. To come back to him. Her heart ached, wishing she could stick to her promise of remaining by his side, but knowing she’d be breaking it. That ache swelled as she thought of her wonderful children. She’d never see them again. How she so desperately wanted to. Her Mia Bear and Baby Maes. That thought brought her so much pain, but slowly eventually that emotional pain started to dull.

Although feelings had left her, sound was still present. Roy’s sobs were still there. Riza wanted to open her mouth to soothe him, to reassure him that he would be all right after all of this, but it was impossible.

One last time, Riza wanted to tell Roy that she loved him with all of her heart. She’d tell him she was sorry to be leaving him and going back on her promise. That her decision had been made for her against her will.

Riza’s body was rocked back and forth in Roy’s arms as he cried over her. His tears lightly tapped the skin of her face, coating her cheeks and forehead in moisture and her husband’s devastation.

But Riza barely felt anything anymore.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes #and breaaaathe #it's done #7k oooof #i'm actually... quite hype about this one #i had fun :))#i wonder why :))#apologies for the waffling at the start too #but i felt it was a Nice Point to do a recap and reflection... given the events of the chapter :))

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lizacstuff · 3 years

Text

SCK episode 46 asks!

Hi folks, below the read more you'll find a smattering of asks about this week's episode as well as a few spoilers for 47.

Good asks this week:

(under the cut)

Anonymous asked: this may be superficial of me, but why are they dressing Serkan in such ugly tops? they finally brought Eda's hair back but now this

BWAH! You're not wrong. You know what I'm wondering, if they've put him in some of those outfits because they are showing his suburban dad side? It's kind of a subtle nod to him embracing father hood and a different way of life? He's now all about running around the yard after his daughter and not about what he looks like when he's being SERKAN BOLAT, FAMOUS BUSINESS MAN and WORLD'S BEST ARCHITECT.

Also, Eda's hair, thank goodness they let that go once the flashbacks were over and we didn't need something to distinguish between then and now! Those curly bangs were not it.

Anonymous asked: They built up the Edser chemistry soooooo well throughout the episode... for that ending? Who decided to cut it there?! The scene was BEAUTIFUL I’m actually upset lol. are not we going to see any more? I’m not asking for a sex scene, I wanted to see THE moment they decided to get back together (the tattoo line doesn’t do it for me) - a few words, tears as they embrace, him walking through the door as she closes it, one passionate kiss, something! But it doesn’t feel like a cliffhanger that continues next week. I’ll be so underwhelmed when they cut to the morning after and we have to infer that they got back together overnight *sigh* if they were allowed 1 kiss only, id rather it have been here instead of ep 2

We do deserve to see how they reconcile, that should be one of the biggest moments of the season after 7 episodes of build up to it.

90% of final scenes in this show have continued uninterrupted the next week. To me there's no reason to think the next episode won't pick up right where this one left off. Crossing fingers!

Anonymous asked: It just hit me that Serkan is the “Kiraz” for Kemal - but Kemal actually missed his child’s whole 35 years 😬 this is an interesting turn of events. Also that line Serkan said about how fathers should love their child’s mother and how he didn’t have that with his own parents....but his real dad does love Aydan, more than she deserves haha.

Oh so true! Kemal really does love his mother more than she deserves! How he puts up with her, I don't know.

The parallel between Serkan/Kemal and Kiraz/Serkan is strong and I hope it gives Serkan some perspective when he starts grappling with this knowledge. I'm sure it's going to be very disconcerting for him, because while he expected to never see his father again, Alptekin is still his father. He's still the man who raised him and formed him into the man he is. Serkan still runs the company he founded and bears his name.

I don't expect any of that to change, but hopefully he can forge a separate relationship with Kemal that might fill some emotional holes that he has and bring him some peace.

None of that even contemplates how Kemal will feel, thankfully Aydan didn't willfully hide the truth from him. How awful to realize you lost 35 years.

We aren't there yet, but I wonder at what age with Kiraz learn the truth, that her dad is not an astronaut, that her parents went through hell with with cancer and plane crashes, and that her father didn't know of her existence until right before they met?

Just something to think about.

Anonymous asked: i'm so happy for hanker, don't get me wrong, and i'm also so happy we get "together" edser for so many episodes until the end, but i'm already tired of the constant "hanker improvising" comments i know i will be seeing. not that they don't improvise in some scenes, but i just know that every romantic edser scene is gonna be analyzed to hell bc ppl want to look for hanker in them. like there's no possible way that ayse, the writer ppl hate the most, could write any romantic scenes.. nope no way!

Yes, this is one of my pet peeves, I can't stand the "Edser left the chat" and all the "that's Hanker, not Edser" type conversation. it's so invasive and most of all disrespectful to not only the writers, but Hande and Kerem and all the work they pour into bringing Eda and Serkan to life.

One of the things in fandom that sets my teeth on edge is when folks take some interpretation of the character by the actor and then decide because it wasn't "scripted" (pro tip the vast majority of physical movements the actors make are "unscripted") that it must just be the actors themselves and have nothing to do with the characters. What an embarrassing and naïve assertion. Actors literal job is to take what's on the page and then translate that. So, no, OF COURSE, every look and touch is not scripted. The actors interpret how their characters would think and feel, and what they would do in given moments and then do those things.

Eda is not touching Serkan's arm just because Hande can't hold herself back from touching Kerem. Puh-lease, they are professionals. Grow up.

However, having said all that, I do think there was one scene that seemed to be very improvised this episode. The bean scene in the grocery store did feel like them just eFFing around. LOL.

andhewonherheart asked: @andhewonherheart: SCK promo department is best and worst all at the same time, cause giving away the last (cliffhanger) scene in fragman is just cruel. But based on the next week’s fragman thing happens that we we think happens *wink*

Hee! So true. The thing I'm grateful for is that in season 2 not one fragman has made me dread the episode, I think there was at least one fragman an episode from 29-37 that was hella upsetting.

As far as I'm concerned these fragmans are doing there job, making me want to watch.

I am really excited for Serkan planning how he's going to ask Eda to marry him, I wonder what Kiraz's reaction is going to be. So far she's been their very own cupid!

Anonymous asked: I didn't find it surprising that Serkan removed his tattoo as soon as Eda left. His logic is always out of sight out of mind though it doesn't work. He did the same when he broke up with her when he found out about the death of her parents. He removed all of her belongings. But their memories are too strong and enough for him to continue to remember her.

Truth! Will he ever learn that it's never going to work? He'll never be able to erase Eda, she has left an indelible mark on his soul. Let's hope he's never faced with that situation again! From here on out, he and Eda are together, a unit, and will live a long life together and in love.

Anyone have any guesses where Eda's tattoo is? Will we find out or will it remain between the characters.

Anonymous asked: I've seen some people say that Edser are getting married now way too fast and to that I just have to laugh lol. First there were complaints we don't have happy Edser and now when we do, of course there's something else. These two have had a rollercoaster of a year when they first met and a five year separation.. they've been through the dating phase, the engaged phase.. of course they'll head straight to the altar! It's not like Eda's plane proposal and that first wedding wasn't rushed either!

I'm on team head straight to the alter! No more waiting. They've had terrible luck, so they just need to tie the knot and make sure there are no easy outs.

As for people who think it's too fast, they don't even know the storyline yet, I swear there are folks who complain just because that's their personality and they're never satisfied.

Anonymous asked: From some of the spoilers of BTS pics, and the fragman we got, I was just reflecting on this season and Turk romcom dizis in general and I just wanted to say how LUCKY we are to see Edser married (again, from spoilers) and with a kid on screen for more than just 10 minute at the end of the finale. Like, it is really rare and as much as people have nitpicked on this season in general, I feel like watching these last episodes have been such a breeze after the last arc of S1.

Oh agreed, I think these episodes have been very enjoyable. The writers are giving me exactly what I want from this show. Comedy, UST, romance with a little light angst thrown in now and again. I would rewatch this season a dozen times before even thinking about watching anything from the 30s.

We are very lucky that we've got to see them as parents, and actually forming their family. We've gotten so much domestic goodness so far and we still have a ways to go. I'm very appreciative of this season and that Ayse came back, got rid of the constant ridiculous melodrama for melodrama's-sake and is telling a very human story about family and love persevering.

Anonymous asked: the last scene gave me chills for some reason. you could actually see eda fighting her head and her heart and deciding to take the step (metaphorically and physically!) towards him for good. i wanna SUE whoever decided to end it the ep there though.. it was actually cruel. also looking at the next frag.. it makes my heart soft that in the flashbacks we see serkan pushing off their wedding bc of his fears and now he can't propose and get married fast enough.. can't believe we're really getting it

I know, it's almost surreal at this point. Since we're near the end we know it's for real and won't be ruined by psychos or awful family members or terminal illness. I just hope that they give us an emotional scene when they get married, whether its just them or the whole cast is there as guests, after everything they've (we've) been through we need to see them both feeling that moment and reveling in it.

FYI - I'm out of town next weekend, so I may be slower than usual in replying to asks and in posting gifs of 47, but I'll get to it all eventually!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sckask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #asklizac jmo personal life #singles anonym

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