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catxsnow · 3 years

Text

HAPPINESS B.W.

Request: Will you do a Bruce Wayne x reader where the reader gets hurt because of his life and he just like super sorry and regretful? If you wanna change the bat boy that'll be okay.

Warning: mentions of blood and injury, fluff, angst

A/N: hello good day one and all, my writing inspiration has plummeted even more but I hope everyone enjoys this.

Word count: 1.9k

Bruce never wanted you to be part of his life for this reason. He didn't want an innocent civilian to get caught up in his life as Batman. Someone who couldn't take care of themselves like he or his kids could. He didn't want you to be trapped in the crossfire of his battles and be the one to suffer the consequences.

You knew the risks of being with him. One night he may never make it home because of his fights. Or maybe that one of his sons or daughter would fall again, and this time never return. You knew that maybe, you would somehow be the one to get the bullet instead of someone that would have known how to dodge it.

Maybe if Bruce would have been faster, or if he ignored his pride and asked for help everything would have turned out fine. Maybe if he sacrificed himself, you would have ended up safe. Instead, you laid in a hospital bed. Cast around your arm, brace on your neck. Cuts and bruises laced your skin from the accident.

Except it wasn't an accident. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time and there was nothing that Bruce could have done to help, no matter how much he beat himself up over it. He was saving the lives of others - you would never shame him for that.

Being Batman was something you had to learn to deal with, but his need to save lives was something you could never chastise. You had your fights over it, the crying and screaming matches that seemed to go on for hours. Your pleads to get him to stop when things were going too far.

The times a young Jason Todd would come into your room with red eyes because he heard you and Bruce fights. An older Jason coming to you for comfort after hearing yet another argument with your husband. Tim crawling into your bed with you as Bruce headed out for a night on his own after yelling at you.

Dick, the child you never got a hand in raising, but being there for you because he knew Bruce's antics more than anyone. All his kids adored you, and they all knew what it was like to be on the other end of Bruce's stubborn Wrath.

Bruce was worth it. He was worth every tear, every kiss, every second. Every moment you spent with him, whether it be love or hate, you wouldn't change it for anything. Even if his love was the reason that you were in that bed.

"It's not your fault, Bruce," Dick stood behind the chair in which his adopted father sat. He came back to Gotham the moment that he heard about what happened. Damian had told him scene by scene what occurred - nothing of which Bruce could have stopped. Maybe not even if he was Superman.

Unfortunately, Dick knew all too well that Bruce would feel guilty for this. He was more protective of you than anyone else in this entire world. He would go to any length to keep you safe.

Bruce held your hand in his. The faint pulse was the only thing keeping him sane in that moment. His hair was tousled, likely from the stress he had been under these past few hours. It wasn't often Dick saw him like this. Then again, it wasn't often Bruce ever let anything happen to you.

"I knew a day like this would come and yet I still agreed to let them into my life," Bruce's voice was hoarse - nearly as much as it was when he was under the cowl. The only difference, was now he wasn't hiding behind a mask, he was forced to face the reality of what could happen to those he loved because of his life.

"Growing up, I never thought I'd see the day that you'd fall in love," Dick sat down in the chair across from Bruce. He refused to take his eyes off you, even with his son showing himself. "And then you met (Y/N). I remember them coming over to the mansion for the first time. I wasn't living there anymore but you wanted me to come to meet them.

"I've never seen you laugh, genuinely laugh, so much in one night. I could tell, from that night that they were different than the other woman you brought home. You cared about them from the start, Bruce. (Y/N) wasn't just some other person that you seduced to uphold your playboy act. They knew what they were getting into with you. You can't just force everyone away because you're scared of potential outcomes - that's part of life. Even for Batman."

"They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me," Bruce tried to argue. Always the glutton for punishment, even when the hand didn't need to be delivered to him.

"And they might have ended up far worse if it hadn't been for you," Dick spoke, his voice steady. He too hated seeing you like this - but if Bruce wasn't going to be the stable one then he had to take that burden. "If there's one thing in this world that people like us struggle to get... it's happiness. You found yours in (Y/N). Don't lose that because of one accident."

"Father."

It had been days since you had been admitted into the hospital. Yesterday morning you woke up sore, but alive. Bruce was yet to leave your side. Stubble littered his face from going days without shaving. A look that you weren't able to truly appreciate from being asleep half the time.

By this time the next day, you would be allowed to leave, but that didn't make your husband any less worried about your well being. Bruce still blamed himself for what happened, even after you had told him it wasn't his fault in the slightest. You could see the guilt on his face, just as he wore every time something went wrong with you involved.

"I brought you food," Damian held a bag of take-out in his hand. If he knew his father well enough, he'd know that he hadn't eaten anything all day. It was confirmed when he heard the loud growl of Bruce's stomach the moment that he got a whiff of the food in the room. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Bruce waved off his son. It was clear he was in need of something to eat, though he was too stubborn to take care of himself while you were in need. Even if it was just watching over you while you slept. Damian shoved the bag directly in front of his face until he reluctantly accepted.

"You need a shower," Damian's nose curled up. He stood looking down at his father. As worried as he had been, he also was acting immaturely. Refusing to take care of himself, constantly under surveillance while you were in good hands as it was. "(Y/N) will be perfectly safe with me. Go home. Get some sleep. We'll be here in the morning and ready to go home."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Damian eyes the food until Bruce took a bite. It wasn't often that he was worried about his father, but it had been days since he had properly looked out for himself. It was clear how far his love for you went after seeing him like this. Or more so, his guilt for letting this happen. "Do you not trust me to take care of them?"

Bruce's jaw tightened. Truth was, he didn't trust anyone with you. Not even himself. Not even Clark. Damian took his silence as an answer. Of course not. Bruce couldn't trust him for a night out alone on patrol, how was he supposed to trust him with his partner?

"It's my fault they're here, Damian," Bruce sighed. "I've never been so scared before."

This was the first time that Damian had ever seen his father so truly vulnerable. Never in his life did Bruce admit that he was scared, yet here he was completely unscathed and terrified. Dick was right, he found complete and utter happiness in you, and the thought of losing you hurt more than anything else.

He wasn't just scared. He was horrified. Nothing in this world put more fear into him than seeing you suffer, or worse.

"It's not your fault, Father," Damian assured, just as his older brother had. "You always taught me to be brave, to face what scared me most. There's nothing wrong with feeling scared sometimes. It reminds us that we're human, that we're allowed to feel things. (Y/N) loves you, this won't change anything."

"Bruce would you stop hovering over me, I'm fine!"

You thought getting back to the manor would mean Bruce would finally be off your back about your injuries. It couldn't be more of the opposite. He was constantly trailing behind you, ready to give you aid whenever you needed it. Honestly, you weren't even that sore.

The brace on your neck was gone before you even left the hospital. Your dark bruises were lighter in color and the cuts that required stitches were healing just fine. The only noticeable injury was the cast on your arm, and you could still function just fine without it. Bruce was just being his overly-protective self.

"If I would have known that all I needed to do to get this much attention from you was to get myself hurt, I would have done it a long time ago," You tried to joke. He remained stoic about your comment, your health was no joking matter. You placed your palm on his cheek, the warmth of his skin being soaked up by your own.

"Seriously, hun, I feel perfectly fine. I'm just thankful for you being there." He didn't look convinced. There was nothing worse than failing you, and he had done exactly that.

"Except I wasn't there," he muttered. Bruce tilted his head in shame. He wasn't there to save you fast enough, he should have been. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry that my life put yours at risk."

"Bruce, my love," your fingers caught under his chin. He reluctantly met your eyes. Shame filled his entire body, he was supposed to be able to save the world, and yet he couldn't save the one closest to him. "I will never blame you for anything like this. I need you to know that. No matter what happens to me, It will never be your fault."

"I love you," Bruce's lip trembled. You were quick to bring him into a kiss. After everything that he's done, the last thing that he deserved was guilt. "I can't live without you. You're my happiness, my everything. I was, I was so scared. I can't live without you, (Y/N)."

"And you'll never have to."

Taglist:

@pricetagofficial @mora-miserium @babymango-writes @redrobin-yumm @simp-is-what-i-am @catsofsmoke @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek @spiitfiires @pinkdiamond1016 @childish-kiwi @givetimdrakeacoffee @gunnedrobin @local-fandom-trashcan @bikoncon @foenixphire

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might-be-a-zygon · 3 years

Note

Ohhhh Thasmin and "are you kidding me?! you're not 'fine'!" OR River/13 and "i can't believe i almost lost you

This one got away from me a little, I’ll admit. It’s pretty angsty and features a lot of (canon) character death, so fair warning on that one.

I’ll add an AO3 link in the reblogs!

---

The Ghosts That Broke My Heart

Sleep had always been a funny thing for the Doctor. She certainly needed a lot less of it than her human friends, but it had always been a reliable break from whatever life chose to throw at her that week. She had dreams, like everyone did, but there was one thing which the Doctor didn’t really do.

She didn’t have nightmares.

Really, what would she have them about? The Doctor faced the creatures of nightmares every day. To some species, the Doctor was a creature of nightmares.

Still, after what had happened on Gallifrey? She’d found the creatures that could jolt her awake screaming.

Ghosts.

Whatever she’d done to overload the matrix had broken centuries of carefully constructed barriers, holding back the people she’d lost, and now her mind saw fit to make her relive each dark moment whenever she let her guard down to try and sleep.

It had started out right away- that first night in the Jadoon prison she’d laid down on the slab that passed for a bed, and closed her eyes to sleep.

“What does that mean?”

Jenny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, all wide-eyes and excited smiles. The Doctor could recognise a lot of her own nervous energy in the young woman- ready to go off and explore the brave new world that awaited them. She also saw the gunman poised to take all that away in a moment.

It was like she was watching through thick glass. Poised on the sidelines, watching her past selves getting it all wrong over and over, but helpless to interfere. She slammed her palm against it, sending a too-real shooting pain through her arm, but making no audible sound.

“It means a new world.”

Sandshoes was grinning now, more genuine hope than she could ever really remember feeling shining in those eyes. He’d burned in the end- she remembered that much. He’d been angry. Vengeful.

The Timelord Victorious.

How different might things have been if he’d just turned around? The Doctor tried to speak, to shout for him to get her out of the way. Her voice didn’t make a sound.

She watched the happiness melt from Jenny’s face, even as Sandshoes maintained his stupid, complacent grin. The Doctor was pounding on the glass now, silently screaming that it wasn’t worth it, but of course she couldn’t change it. Jenny shoved Sandshoes out of the way, the bullet striking her square in the chest. Martha- brilliant Martha who she’d never once deserved- she knew right away there was no chance. She watched her past-self hold their dying daughter, and tell her of a future she’d never see, already knowing she was beyond saving. Lies had always fallen too easily from her tongue.

“You’re gonna be amazing, you hear me, Jenny?”

Had she even heard?

That first night, when she woke with a whine, curled up into a tight ball on her uncomfortable prison bed, the Doctor had attributed it to stress. She’d jumped haphazardly from Byron, to the cybermen, to Gallifrey, to prison with no time to clear her head. The Master always did funny things to her mind, anyway, it was normal there’d be some aftereffects.

Her hand ached from where she’d been slamming it into the ‘bed’.

She tried to shake the traitorous vision of Jenny- bright, young Jenny with so much potential sacrificing herself for the father she hardly knew. The father who would go on to do so much damage.

Against her better judgement, she’d turned over, and tried to get to sleep again. It was the last time she made that mistake.

The first thing the Doctor heard this time, was screaming.

She was on a ship, which certainly wasn’t her TARDIS. It took her a minute to recognise the place- but, maybe that made the whole thing even worse. Somebody was screaming for her help, and she couldn’t even remember who it was.

She stood there, behind whatever barrier her mind had constructed to stop her interfering, and watched the doddering old fool she’d been back then just stand there while a good woman was in trouble just feet away. She could have reopened the airlock doors- she’d known how- but she’d been so desperate to look for a way around it, that she’d left Katarina there screaming.

“Change course.” The Doctor in front of her finally ordered. “Take him back to Kembel. Take him back to Kembel! Let the Daleks deal with him.”

In that moment the Doctor looked into her own eyes and saw a spark of that ruthless fire which would one day burn galaxies. It was that same fire that made her risk tearing time apart for Clara Oswald- the fire that burned too brightly. If she was feeling generous, she might have called it admirable, that she was willing to fight so unbelievably hard for the people she loved.

Right now, she called it selfishness.

Steven stepped towards the old Doctor, his anger doing a poor job at masking his fear. “Yes, and us!”

“Don't worry, dear boy, We'll find a way out.” The Doctor cringed at her first face (or, the first face she remembered), while standing in her glass prison. Her methods of comfort hadn’t come on any in three thousand years. She was still a liar.

Both of the men who’d been with her bck then had been afraid. Bret had even tried arguing with her, but the Doctor had never been an easy person to argue with.

“I can't sacrifice everything for the sake of that one girl.” He argued, still at the controls. Luckily, she was spared the embarrassment of having to watch her former self argue by Steven stepping in.

“Listen! Without us you wouldn't have got off Kembel at all, and nothing would be worth bothering about!”

“All right, so we all go back together. But without me, I doubt that you would have got this far either.” Bret had given in quickly enough, and all the while the Doctor just stood and watched, and listened to Katarina’s frightened screaming in the airlock.

She watched as Katarina broke free and hit the release for the airlock. She watched as both her and Kirksen were sucked out into space. She watched, and knew that that girl- that girl who was so brave in the face of so much danger- had sacrificed herself so the three of them could get away.

Her hearts ached, as she thought of a dozen ways she could have saved her, if she’d tried harder.

“She wanted to save our lives and perhaps the lives of all the other beings of the Solar System.” The old Doctor in front of her began to make his silly speech, and the Doctor turned away, revolted at her own self-importance. “I hope she's found her Perfection. Oh, how I shall always remember her as one of the Daughters of the Gods. Yes, as one of the Daughters of the Gods.”

Rule one.

She hadn’t thought about Katarina in centuries. That poor, brave woman, who had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep them all alive, and the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to remember her.

The Doctor had awoken, still curled up on that cold stone slab, unable to shake the revulsion at her own actions. Was she still like that man? So pompous as to think that every being in the universe made their decisions based around her.

She hadn’t tried to sleep again, after that, shifting to lay on her back, staring at the celling, and trying to shake what somewhere, deep down, she knew.

There were very, very good reasons, she was in prison.

At first, it was always death. Faces she’d remembered, and ones she’d long since forgotten, all meeting their end because the Doctor had failed to save them.

“It snapped my neck, Sir. It wasn’t as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something.”

Angel Bob.

The Doctor had forgotten all about Angel Bob. He was young, and clever, and he was so scared, and she had just walked away and forgotten all about him, as though he’d never even existed.

She could see the look on the faces of the others- the muted horror on River’s, and the more pronounced look of it on her mother’s, as well as the well-managed grief of the soldiers who’d fought with him. They were all ghosts, now. Amy, River, the soldiers. All blown away like smoke on the wind.

“If you’re dead how can I be talking to you?” She tried not to think about the genuine interest her former self’s voice held in that moment- a man had just died, and Bowtie was curious about the mechanics.

“You’re not talking to me, Sir. The angel has no voice. It stripped my cerebral cortex from my body and reanimated a version of my consciousness to communicate with you. Sorry about the confusion.”

She tried her absolute best not to think too hard about how conscious the original Bob was at that moment. Had he known what had happened to him? Had he felt the angels turn him into their puppet?

She watched as Bowtie told them all to run- to run into the maze of weeping angels with no plan, and to just trust him, and she watched as he stopped behind to defend himself.

“Yes, I called you an idiot, and I’m sorry-“ He didn’t sound sorry at all, but the Doctor in her glass cage watching it play out certainly was, “But I couldn’t have saved your men.”

“I know that, Sir. And when you’ve flown off in your little blue box, I’ll explain that to their families.”

She watched, sick to her stomach, as Bowtie smirked.

“I’ll have to tell his mother.”

Seeing Rose, even after all this time, was still painful. This was only the second day they’d met, back before they’d travelled together. Before she’d managed to soften the war ravaged Doctor standing in front of her now.

The Ears had been one of her shortest lived, and angriest faces, and the ways he’d treated people were downright cruel at times. She saw the questioning look he gave Rose, clueless in the face of Mickey’s apparent demise, and why she’d be at all upset.

Why Rose hadn’t walked away then and there would forever be a mystery to the Doctor. She’d never once deserved that kind of love.

“Mickey” I’ll have to tell his mother he’s dead, and you just went and forgot him, again! You were right, you are alien.”

Alien didn’t have to mean cruel, though. So why did callousness seem to come so easily to her? Maybe it was just the sheer amount of death she’d witnessed, but it still hurt to see. She had to keep reminding herself that this death, at least, hadn’t been real- that Mickey was alive and living on earth, raising a son with his dad’s eyes and his mum’s brains who’d have the whole world talking in a few years.

At least it was a good reminder of why she was staying away from August Smith.

“Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey-“

“Yeah, he’s not a kid-“

The Ears cut Rose off before she could keep speaking, but the Doctor watching from the side-lines found herself nodding in agreement. Rose was right. Of course Rose was right.

“It’s because I’m busy trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering about on top of this planet! Alright?”

“Alright!”

“Yes, it is!” Ears sounded insufferably smug.

The Doctor shook her head in disgust, glancing at Rose and quietly muttering, “Why did you ever put up with me?”

“Look out!”

It was another voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, and one she’d frankly been dreading hearing. If Nyssa was here she had a good idea of what she was about to see. She saw the cybermen coming up behind her back, while her fifth-self fumbled with the controls. It was as good as useless.

A cyberman lumbered up behind her, and her past-self ignored it completely, leaving Nyssa to have to shoot it down with a discarded cyberweapon. She was once again saved by a more competent friend, and her own hypocrisy when it came to guns.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever even thanked Nyssa for saving her life.

“I must save Adric!”

Stuck in the corner, exhausted and emotionally drained, the Doctor was just glad that, while she was having to watch another of her failures, this version of herself was at the very least trying.

“Look!”

“Adric.”

The screen came to life, and the Doctor tried to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch, but of course it didn’t work- in her dreams she wouldn’t be allowed to block out the parts she didn’t want to see. The only consolation was that she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

She’d always been cowardly like that.

She watched as the ship began to come apart- watched as Tegan and Nyssa held each other, and Celery just stood there gawping like a fish who couldn’t believe his own incompetence.

She still remembered that feeling- like someone had clawed the hearts out of her chest and shown them to her. Back then, it’d been such a long time since she’d really lost someone that she wasn’t used to the pain of it anymore.

When had she become careless enough that death just bounced off of her?

It only took ten days of reliving her worst moments before the Doctor had begun actively fighting sleep. Prison, at least, was a safe enough place to do it. She’d pace her cell at night to keep herself from drifting off- reciting books she knew by heart, or just talking to herself to keep her eyes from closing for too long. During the day, she’d do the same- chatting to the other prisoners, pacing, never letting herself remain still for fear of finally giving into the exhaustion which seemed to have seeped into her bones.

Of course, even a Time Lord (if she could even call herself one anymore), couldn’t stay awake forever. After weeks of forcing her eyes to stay open, she’d eventually collapse, usually when she was in her cell, if she was lucky, and she’d endure another walkthrough her past- too exhausted to even wake up- before being woken by the prison systems to begin all over again.

After a while she’d slip into waking dreams, too exhausted to even think straight. She’d sit in her cell, nutrient block in hand, while her sleep deprived mind played out snippets of her life, a few seconds at a time, while she fought to wake up enough to dismiss the visions.

At first, when she next saw herself- sitting on a bench, eating chips, she thought maybe this was just her mind crying out for some real food. It was easy to forget the specifics of what had been discussed all those years before, after twenty years sitting in a cell.

“She scares me.” Came Bill’s voice from next to the older-Doctor, quiet in its honesty. Admitting you were scared was something so few people ever did- least of all when they were around the Doctor, and being brave was so important, but Bill had never been afraid to admit it to her. She’d been strong like that. “Like. She really scares me.”

As much as she still, after all this time, wanted the Master to be everything she knew he could be, it was hard to deny how right Bill had been to be afraid. After all- it was the Master who’d handed her over to the cybermen, in the end, just not the version she’d feared.

“Okay. Just, promise me one thing, yeah? Just promise you won’t get me killed.”

“I can’t promise you that!” Eyebrows had laughed at her, as though her concerns were something flippant. As though her fear was something worth laughing at. He’d been right, in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep Bill alive, but it was horrible looking back at it now.

The Doctor had managed to shock herself back into reality, but she hadn’t been able to shake the self-contempt that settled in her hearts.

Most of the time, those waking nightmares came while she was stuck sitting around, waiting for the time to come that she’d be allowed out into her tiny cube of the exercise yard, just for something to break up the routine of sitting alone, and thinking about death.

“I keep remembering all the people I’ve killed. Every day I think of more. Being bad- Being bad drowned that out. I didn’t know I even knew their names. You didn’t tell me about this bit.”

“I’m sorry, but this is good.”

“Okay.”

The Doctor watched herself hold her self-ascribed goodness over her oldest friend, and couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t what had driven the Master to the depths of madness he’d displayed on Gallifrey. She might have lorded it as a good thing back then, but she was quickly learning the types of things that isolation, imprisonment, and guilt could do to the mind. If she got out of prison with her sanity, she’d count it a blessing.

She’d dreamt about Missy a lot, after a while. The longer she stayed locked up, the more her guild-addled mind saw fit to remind her of her stint as jailor.

On those nights she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, the Doctor saw herself through the glass again. It was her twelfth face- well, the twelfth she remembered- the one with the angry eyebrows and the trusting nature. She saw Missy standing there, looking more dishevelled than she had before the vault, standing so close to the forcefield that it was rippling. She looked strangely earnest despite the pantomime of madness she put o- as though she was proud of herself for actually helping.

She watched as Eyebrows shoved Bill back away from Missy, not seeming to care much about how what had just transpired had clearly affected her. She’d never been good enough for Bill- the kind, inquisitive girl who’d gone out of her way to buy the Doctor Christmas presents and who’d called her grandad, and who she’d promised she wouldn’t get killed. Bill who had been so strong, who had fought off the monks and the cybermen by sheer force of will. Bill who’d deserved so much more than what the Doctor had given to her.

She watched Eyebrows walk up to that rippling forcefield, and look his oldest friend in the eyes like she was still the monster she pretended to be.

“Even if that was the truth the fact that you’re suggesting it shows that there’s been no change. No hope. No point.”

Eyebrows sounded angry, and the Doctor winced slightly at that. How was the Master ever supposed to change with the Doctor constantly telling her that her progress meant nothing? Was that why she’d given up in the end? It had to be easier to go back to what you’d known before rather than being constantly strung along and put down by someone who had promised to help you become better.

Missy’s face contorted for a moment. The Doctor left her here for months, all alone in this dusty room with almost nothing, and then he’d turned up just to talk to her like this? Her Twelfth face was one of the few she’d always thought of as good- or, if not good, at least kind. Sandshoes had been angry from the war and from everything he’d lost, but Eyebrows had tried so hard to be kind. Was this really what her version of kind did to people?

After her own stint in prison, leaving Missy trapped like this for so long was beginning to seem more and more cruel. She’d wanted to help people, she really had, but it wasn’t as though her friend had come to her and asked. She’d saved her, and then abused that power, keeping her prisoner for decades to try and make her into something she’d never tried to be. It was hard, knowing what had later become of the Master, not to wonder what all that time in the vault had done to their already fragile mental state. How much had she contributed to his snapping and destroying their home?

Looking at it like that how was the Doctor any better than the Jadoon? And how was Missy running off with the Master much different from her running with Jac They’d both been escaping jailors who kept them confined alone for long enough to drive them half-mad.

“We don’t sacrifice people.” The scene playing out in front of her was hardly easy, but the Doctor laughed anyway, because the irony of that wasn’t lost on her. She’d let so many people die for her as Rainbows that Eyebrows’ words felt hollow. “It’s wrong because it’s easy.”

“Back in the day I’d burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I’m sorry your plus one doesn’t get a happy ending, but like it or not I just saved this world because I want to change.”

There was a forced lightness to Missy’s voice, almost undetectable unless you really knew her well- and the Doctor knew her better than anybody. It’d been a cry for help, of sorts- she’d wanted her friend back, and Eyebrows had ignored her. She’d saved the world- the Doctor would have likely spent months searching for infected water supplies and food chains following up his own stupid theories, and Missy had told him the answer freely, and without reward. She’d saved the world and he’d told her there was no hope for her- no wonder she’d run.

“Your version of good is not absolute.” She continued, her fingers pushing slightly against the forcefield now. The Doctor watched it ripple from behind he own glass patrician, and she knew the look in Missy’s eyes far too well. If that forcefield had been replaced with glowing blue bars it could have been her in her own cell. At least during her imprisonment she hadn’t had to live with the knowledge that her oldest friend was her jailor. “It’s vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

Vain, arrogant and sentimental.

She always had said the Master knew her soul a little too well.

Once the spectre of death faded, somewhat, it was her own shortcomings her subconscious decided to force onto her. Those moments when she’d forced others into complying with what she’d wanted- as though that was always her decision to make.

She was the Doctor, after all. Who would ever dare to question her whims as anything less than genius?

“You know you can fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-wiring the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary-“

Not this. Not Donna. How was this fair? At least with Jenny she hadn’t seen the gunman. She could see it in her past-self’s face that he knew this was killing her, and he was just standing there like an idiot, watching it happen. He could have stepped in sooner.

“I’m fine.” Donna was showing off that big grin, back to talking a mile-a-minute. The Doctor had always wondered if on some level she knew what this would do. She had all of that knowledge inside her head, it must have been somewhere in her all along that she’d become an impossible thing.

She didn’t pound on the glass or scream this time, watching her own past unfold with her hand pressed up against it. She mouthed I’m sorry, but no sound came out.

“I bet he’s great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin. Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown- no he’s fiction-“ She watched as Donna pranced around, playing with the console and the phone. This wasn’t quite Donna- not really. This Donna was far too Doctor- maybe that was why she found it so unsettling, seeing her charming, funny, irreverent friend talking like someone she hated.

“Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton-“ Donna cut off with a gasp, and the Doctor wanted to slap Sandshoes for leaving her in this state. She had to be scared, and he wasn’t even bothering to explain it to her. Of course, with that much of the Doctor’s mind burning through her own, Donna had probably understood it all already, but there was still something to be said for compassion in a situation as horrific as this one.

“I was gonna be with you forever.” The sadness in Donna’s eyes spoke volumes. She’d trusted the Doctor so much, had so much planned for them, and it was all the Doctor’s fault.

If her hearts hadn’t already shattered they did now. Nobody ever stayed with her forever- not really. Even if she wanted them to, she’d always destroy them before they got a chance.

She was on the floor, kneeling on the dirty floor of a TARDIS she’d long since tried to forget. When had that happened?

“I know.”

She screwed her eyes shut, grateful that this time, at least, she managed to block out the visuals- maybe because this time, the sound of Donna begging for something the Doctor was too selfish to give her was enough. She wouldn’t watch Sandshoes lie to her like that- like he’d lied to Jenny, and to Bob, and to Steven. Pretty words to ease the pain she was about to put her through.

“I can’t go back. Doctor. Please. Please don’t make me go back.”

Listening to her beg wasn’t any easier than watching it. Or living it- especially now she knew just how painful it was to have your memories taken from you. Gallifrey may have erased her path, but she’d run roughshod over her friend’s mind just as carelessly.

“Donna Noble. I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” Was that supposed to make either of them feel better? She’d been so self-righteous back then. The Doctor opened her eyes again, and regretted it almost immediately, curling in on herself behind her little partition. “Goodbye.”

“No. No! No please! No. No! No!”

Staying awake proved easier once she’d left prison.

During her incarceration, it had only been the thought of getting home to her fam which had really kept her going, so having Yaz back at her side was a real boost to her mood, which kept those waking nightmares at bay.

The running helped too- adrenaline in her system keeping the more dangerous effects of her sleep-deprivation at bay. Still, it didn’t mean that nights didn’t come where she came down from that high of finally being able to help again, and her tiredness came crashing down on her like a crushing weight.

This time, it came after a particularly harsh day.

She was getting sloppy in her exhausted state, and that sloppiness had put Yaz in far greater danger than she’d ever wanted to risk again. She’d told herself, that after the cybermen, and the daleks, she’d be more careful, but then all of a sudden there they were, stuck in a trap she should have been able to spot, if she was thinking clearly.

They’d been held hostage for longer than she was willing to admit- some scrapper who was very keen on getting hold of the TARDIS- not that he really knew what it was or what significance it held. No, for this man the greatest ship in the universe was worth some spare parts, and whatever the scrap value of its base components was.

They’d gotten out, in the end, but it wasn’t as though she could even take credit for that- it was quick thinking on Yaz’s part which had distracted their attacker for long enough for them to get to the TARDIS. As impressive as it was, it was still terrifying to see Yaz be so like her in the way she acted. The last person who’d wanted to be the Doctor had gotten killed trying to do so.

She’d hardly said a word once they returned to the ship, trying her best to ignore the furtive looks of concern she kept getting. She slipped off to the library alone when Yaz went to make a cup of tea, getting there on her fourth attempt (since the TARDIS seemed insistent on placing her room behind every door she opened), and counting on the near-infinite nature of the TARDIS rooms to hide her for a while. She needed a little space while she cleared her head and tried to get rid of some of the overwhelming guilt that was eating her up inside.

She could have gotten Yaz killed today with her carelessness. If Yaz wasn’t as good as she was, she would have gotten them both killed.

No matter what horrors from her past her brain decided to drudge up, a world without Yaz was still a terrifying thought.

“I’m not asking you for a promise. I’m giving you an order.”

She really didn’t want to see this.

The Doctor had not gotten her memories back just so she could watch Clara Oswald face the raven all over again. Even in prison her mind hadn’t been cruel enough to remind her of that particular death. She remembered the others- Oswin, and the governess she’d met in London, and a hundred other Clara’s who’d died to save her- but this one had never come up.

Evidently, her subconscious thought she needed a reminder of what happened when she took her eyes off things for a moment too long.

“You will not insult my memory. There will be no revenge. I will die, and no one else here, or anywhere, will suffer.”

Well there was a promise the Doctor hadn’t managed to keep. She’d tried to tear time itself apart to save Clara, and worst of all, she’d never even known if it succeeded. Testimony didn’t remember whether Clara had lived or died- it’d been taken the moment before the raven hit- before the Doctor had tried to pull her from her timeline. She had no memory of anything that’d happened with Clara after this, and while she knew they’d been together on Gallifrey, she didn’t know how permanent that salvation might be, or what about it had taken her memories to begin with.

“What about me?” Eyebrows asked, and the Doctor who was watching him managed a harsh, bitter laugh. Clara was dying, and as usual her former self was there to be selfish and make her comfort him.

“If there was something I could do about that I would. I guess we’ll both just need to be brave.”

“Clara-“ He was trying to argue again, but all at once she was pulling him into a hug, and looking at the desperation of it from the outside, the Doctor just knew that Clara was trying to pull some comfort from it too, since Eyebrows hadn’t been offering her any.

She’d been human, and she’d been dying, and she’d been scared, but she’d forced herself to be brave so her friend didn’t have to be.

Looking back on it, Clara had always been so much stronger than the Doctor had ever been.

“Don’t run.” It had to be the first time she’d ever said that to one of her friends in a bad spot. “Stay with me.” Eyebrows was practically begging her now. Worse than that, the Doctor knew that if she had to go back and do it again, she wouldn’t be any stronger.

“Nah.” She could see how heard Clara was working to keep her tone casual, not wanting to hurt the Doctor any more than this whole thing already would. It was heart breaking, really, knowing that even in her final moments she’d had to suppress her own feelings to try and save her pain. “You stay here. In the end everybody does this alone.”

She shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“Clara-“ Eyebrows tried again, and if the Doctor wasn’t stuck in her self-imposed cell, she might have hit him. This was his last chance- why couldn’t he say something to her? Why couldn’t he make sure that she died knowing how deeply she was loved.

“This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it’s gonna hurt you but- please. Be a little proud of me?”

There was a hopeful note to Clara’s tone despite everything, and in the end that was what really broke the Doctor. Her hand was pressed against the glass, desperate to say something, but unable to- the sands of time separated them more surely than the glass ever could.

“Always.” She promised, because if Eyebrows wouldn’t say it, then this new Doctor would. “I’m always gonna be proud of you.”

Clara turned away from her, and walked towards her grave.

“No no no no…”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open, giving her a hazy view of the warm purple walls of the TARDIS library. She was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, her eyes still heavy with sleep. How long had it been since she’d last slept? Weeks, at least. Maybe months. And since she’d last slept properly? Well that had been decades.

Her hands ached from where she’d been clutching onto the arms of the chair.

Her eyes were already falling closed again, too exhausted to even force herself to stay awake.

“If you die here it’ll mean I never even met you.”

She’d never really appreciated how true that statement was. Without the Doctor blundering through her mother’s life, River Song would never have existed. Melody Williams (would she even have been called Melody, with the paradox of her name?) would have grown up safe and happy, the human daughter of the journalist and the nurse. She’d have had a normal life. She’d have been raised by loving parents, and have had a happy childhood, and maybe even brothers and sisters- maybe she’d have still written books, or taught archelogy, and had a much happier marriage than theirs had been.

Melody Pond would have been so much better off if she had never met the Doctor.

“Time can be rewritten.” For once, she seemed to be in agreement with Sandshoes. He was selfish, but at least he’d have been doing her a favour.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare. It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.”

Live great lives. That’s what she’d told her fam. If anyone had lived up to that, and lived a great life despite the Doctor’s meddling, it had been River Song. They’d had some amazing times, saved so many people, so many planets. There were stars out there still burning because River Song had been there to save them.

If the Doctor had found a better way around getting the people out of there, there might have been so many more.

The computer counting down the seconds left of her life in the background wasn’t helping the way that the Doctor’s hearts were pounding. She was crying, now- she wasn’t sure when that had begun.

From her cell, she watched Sandshoes babble on about his guilt- his suspicions, being expertly put down by River. She was so used to shutting him up when he was talking about things he didn’t know anything about- she could really use that, right now.

She should have saved her.

“Hush now. Spoilers…”

River smiled, and the Doctor lunged at the glass in front of her, shouting words that even she could barely comprehend. She was still clawing desperately at the glass when the room flashed bright white.

The Time Lord didn’t even fully wake that time, despite having thrown herself onto the floor at some point during her anguish. She was barely drawn out of her nightmares for a moment, a noise that sounded awfully like a whimper escaping her. Her eyes were shut too-tightly, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, fingernails digging into her arms as though that would protect her from the horrors of her own mind.

“Who decides they’re so unimportant? You?”

The Doctor knew where she was this time without even looking up. Somehow, this scared her even more. She wasn’t watching a loved one die, she was watching her own stupid power-play blow up in her face. This hadn’t been a mercy mission, it’d been her trying to prove to the whole Universe that the Doctor had power over all.

“For a long time now I thought I was just a survivor, but I’m not. I’m the winner- that’s who I am. The Time Lord victorious.”

“And there’s no one to stop you?”

“No.”

“This is wrong, Doctor. I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord victorious is wrong.”

Captain Adelaide. She’d been so brilliant- she’d understood more about this than her idiot younger self ever could. The Doctor just about managed to give her a smile from behind her glass wall before she resumed staring at Sandshoes in disgust.

“That’s for me to decide. Now, you better get home.”

It was chilling. Watching her old face shift so quickly. Darkness turned cocky in an instant as he pointed his sonic at the door. Unlike with the other dreams, The Doctor wasn’t shouting. She didn’t try to say a word, just watched on with self-loathing and dread weighing down her hearts. A silent spectator of her darkest moment since the Time War.

Sandshoes smirked at that brave, doomed woman, challenging her to argue her fate further. He’d set himself up as a self-styled God. “Oh it’s all locked up- you’ve been away. Still, that’s easy.”

“Is there nothing you can’t do?”

“Not anymore.”

She watched as the great Time Lord Victorious turned his back on Adelaide. She watched as the captain drew her gun. She braced herself for that flash of blue light and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

“Don’t do it, Adelaide.” She was talking to nobody, but she still couldn’t help herself trying to butt in- trying to fix the damage she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t-“

“Doctor?”

A hand on her shoulder drew her out of there before she had to watch that, jolting her awake. She came to, immediately caught off guard by the shadow of someone standing over her, and the scent of a familiar perfume hitting her. It took her a moment or so to place it, but when she did her hearts picked up a little. Yaz. Brilliant, wonderful, human Yaz who’d probably just heard her rambling all sorts of scary nonsense in her sleep.

“Doctor are you alright?”

The Doctor swallowed a little too hard and sat up quickly enough to make her head spin, forcing a familiar, false grin to spread across her face. Her body was aching from sleeping on the wooden floor, and she was pretty sure she was going to be bruised from where she’d fallen off the chair.

“Yaz! Yasmin Khan- Sorry, must have nodded off-“ Her voice sounded a little false even to her own ears, and she did her best to pass it off with a yawn.

“Sorry, just, you were talkin’ in your sleep an’ I thought-“ Yaz looked a little sheepish about waking her, and her eyes were full of concern.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- Time Lord. Vivid dreams- I was…” She forced another yawn, trying to give herself time to think of a lie. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met a real life siren on a pirate ship? That was a good one, that. Dream about that one a lot. M’fine, though. Really.”

Yaz shot her a look that showed she didn’t believe the Doctor for a moment. There was a beats pause, before she exploded

“Are you kiddin’ me?! You’re not ‘fine’!” She drew air quotes around that last word, straightening up, to stand over the Doctor, showing she was serious.

“I’m-“

“I swear if you say ‘fine’ I’m gonna-”

The Doctor shut her mouth before Yaz could finish the threat.

There was a tense moment, almost like a standoff between the two of them, before Yasmin’s hard eyes softened, and she bent down to help the Doctor to her feet.

“I’m worried about y’.”

Suppressing her initial urge to insist that she was fine, the Doctor bit her lip.

“You shouldn’t be.” She eventually managed.

“When was the last time ‘y slept?” Yaz asked.

“About a minute ago.” The Doctor tried to make a joke. Yaz laughed weakly.

“Before that.” She clarified, glancing at the floor where she’d found the doctor collapsed.

“…I don’t remember.” The Doctor admitted.

Yaz sucked in a surprised breath through clenched teeth.

“Doctor-“

“I’m not human. I don’t need as much sleep as you lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, Yaz gave her another of those easy, disbelieving looks. “And that’s why I found you passed out on the floor cryin’?”

The Doctor blinked, bringing her hand up to her face. Sure enough, she’d been crying- she hadn’t even realised. Waking up with tears in her eyes was just normal by now.

“What’s so bad that it’s keepin’ you up?” Yaz leant forwards, taking one of the Doctor’s hands in both of her own. “Please don’t lie to me.”

There was an earnestness in her eyes that reminded the Doctor of all the people she’d loved most. Rose, Amy, River, Clara. Even Koschei. She’d always liked the people who could be honest with her the best- she needed honest people to stop her tearing herself apart and taking everyone else with her.

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Yaz.” She said, resigned note in her voice. “You saw Gallifrey. My home world is gone, my wife is gone, my children are gone, my granddaughter is gone. I’ve lost most of my friends, and- since Gallifrey, I can’t block them out anymore. I see them die every night.”

All at once, Yaz leaned forwards, just like Clara had in her dream, wrapping her arms tightly around the Doctor, holding her grounded to the spot. Even that brief contact allowed some of the tension in the Doctor’s body to loosen, her shoulder’s slumping as she leant into the contact.

“’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Yaz pulled herself back from the hug, keeping her hands firmly on the Doctor’s arms, so she could ground her while looking her in the eyes.

“Have you got a bedroom on board?” She asked.

“Somewhere. How come?”

Yaz smiled, “Because you’ve gotta sleep sometime, and I think it’s probably comfier than the floor.” She let one of her hands fall, the other moving up to brush the hair out of the Doctor’s eyes. “Come on.”

She caught Yaz’s wrist in her hand, suddenly looking nervous. She was really worried where her subconscious would go from what had to be one of the worst things she’d ever done. “I don’t wanna. Not yet.”

“Y’ need to.” Yaz insisted, still trying her best to smile. The Doctor recognised that look from how often she herself wore it- that false-cheer that just barely covered the worry. “I promise I’ll sit with y’ the whole time- I can wake you up if you start makin’ noise.”

The Doctor thought about that for a minute. It’d certainly been easier to deal with the dream about Adelaide since she’d been pulled out of it before she actually had to hear the shot go off. If Yaz could pull her out of the bad moments before she had to see anything too bad- Maybe it would let the Doctor get a bit of sleep. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, and it didn’t seem as though it would last too long, but- it was an infinitely better one than her current plan of depriving herself of sleep until she could hardly stand.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” She eventually asked, her fingers still resting around Yaz’s wrist, though she wasn’t trying to use them to push her away any more.

“I love you. Let me take care of you, for once.”

There was another slight pause, before the Doctor let go of her hand, nodding. “Okay.”

Yaz let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The Doctor turned to her, genuine confusion etched across her features.

Yaz took another step closer, cupping the Doctor’s face in one hand, and giving her the most genuine smile either of them had shared since they’d reunited. “For letting me in.”

#thirteenth doctor #doctor who #thasmin #yasmin khan #yaz khan #madeathing

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

Fight or Flight - Chapter 9: Intel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4500

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Nearly five days since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Riley glanced around anxiously, taking in the handful of other people in the park. She didn’t like it. She felt so exposed anytime someone even made eye contact with her or glanced at Bridget. It seemed like they could tell she didn’t belong there, that she and Drake and Bridget stuck out like a sore thumb, that the fact that she was a wanted fugitive was obvious. It was hard to relax when every single person in the area was a potential threat, someone who could turn her in and make it all fall apart.

She and Drake had hemmed and hawed about making this trip out. Ever since warrants had been issued for their arrest, the risk of being spotted felt so much more threatening. It had almost felt surreal, sitting on the bed with Drake on Sunday evening, sharing a pair of headphones and staring at his phone while Bridget slept, curled up against her side, watching as Ana de Luca covered Rashad’s brief statement, discussing their family’s disappearance and the lack of evidence of foul play. It had been his first public appearance as king-regent.

Monday night had been the same, this time with an announcement of formal charges of kidnapping of the monarch and treason, resulting in the loss of their titles and lands. The social season was delayed with everything unfolding, but that barely seemed to warrant a mention by any of the reporters or pundits. Olivia was sending them links to several news stories every day - footage of their estate with intelligence agents filing out with box after box, all to be poured over for evidence of any further crimes. Rashad visibly uncomfortable in front of the palace as he requested anyone who knew their whereabouts to step forward. A “tell-all” interview with Barthelemy that was an infuriating clip they only made it part of the way through.

There were clips about Liam and the results of the no-confidence vote as well, even though Liam’s last public sighting had been his arrival at Olivia’s keep on Sunday after the last court hearing. Other than his speech the night before Rashad was sworn in, Liam had not made any statements related to his title or their disappearance. Riley knew Drake was unsettled by that fact. Liam had always known his calm and gentle, yet confident demeanor was an asset and had never shied away from using public statements to sway hearts and minds in the past. Now, when he needed to rally support as he campaigned to regain the throne, he was silent.

Drake had spent all of his time scraping up every news segment, article, op ed, or social media post he could find related to their family, Liam, or Barthelemy. It concerned Riley that he was so hyper-focused, but with everything so fresh and constantly changing, it was hard to blame him for it. Bridget grabbing him or calling for him was about the only thing that could distract him. Riley honestly wasn’t sure if he was sleeping at all.

They hadn’t left their rented room since their arrival on Sunday morning, at least until this morning. Yesterday had been rough, with Bridget throwing fit after fit. She was bored, that much was clear. They had very few toys for her, and their bare bones hotel room was not exactly a stimulating environment. At Valtoria, she spent time exploring different rooms or parts of the grounds with them everyday. She didn’t like the change in the routine, to say the least.

When they finally were able to get Bridget asleep last night, hours after her usual bedtime as she wailed and cried, overtired and cranky beyond belief, they had decided that they needed to chance a trip outside with her. Sure, it was a risk, but so was keeping a screaming 10 month old in a hotel with thin walls. The last thing they needed was the police called for a noise complaint. They decided first thing in the morning would probably be their best option, with hopefully fewer people around. Anything to reduce the chance of getting recognized.

So, they had brought Bridget to a little park, hoping that a change of scenery might help her mood. So far, she was content, sitting happily near them, running her hands over the grass and pulling some up by the blades intermittently. The same couldn’t be said for her and Drake. He looked as wound up as she felt. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his eyes kept darting between Bridget and random people around them. A young mother or nanny ran past them earlier, chasing a school-aged boy down, and Riley thought Drake was going to knock her to the ground. To say they were both on edge was the definition of an understatement.

The tension radiating off them was probably why Bridget was so content to just sit near them. Normally, she would be crawling everywhere, checking out every leaf, flower, and bug in her path. But she kept looking at Riley and Drake, a frown on her little face when they weren’t encouraging her to move and explore. At this rate, Riley wasn’t sure this stressful little trip was going to do her any good.

At the moment, she had found a little flowering tree that was dropping all it’s blossoms, and she was entertaining herself by picking up the pink petals on the ground. Riley was about to ask Drake how long he wanted to stay when she saw Bridget move to put a tiny fistful of the flowers in her mouth.

“Drake, can you stop her from eat-” she started, since Drake was sitting closer to Bridget, but before she could even finish her sentence, she saw Drake’s eyes widen as all the color drained from his face in a second. She turned her head in the direction he was looking and saw a woman who was maybe 50 years old running towards them, pointing at Bridget, calling something out in Greek. Her throat felt tight and her heart started racing as she twisted back towards Drake, but was startled to find him already standing over her, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet with one hand, Bridget already scooped up in his other arm.

“Get to the car,” he rattled off, shoving Bridget into her arms before he started fumbling through his pockets, slipping the keys into her shaking hands.

Riley clutched Bridget close to her chest, turned around, and started running as fast as she could. Feet pounding over the grass, Bridget bouncing in her arms. Sound was distorted in her ears, hollow and thin. She ran, past a jogger, past a couple holding hands. All towards the edge of the park. Towards their car parked just around the corner.

At some point, Bridget started crying, twisting, trying to escape from her arms. Riley tried to keep a tight hold on her, but it was hard. She was slipping. She stopped, trying to readjust. She spun, looking for Drake, but he wasn’t there. Why wasn’t he right behind her?

“Drake?” she cried out as she spun around, frantically searching for him. Her voice was shaky, weak. “Drake?” He wasn’t anywhere. She couldn’t think. Where could he be? He could outrun a middle-aged woman. So why wasn’t he there?

“He’s trying to give you time to get away.” The thought shot through her, and she knew it was the truth in an instant. Stupid, self-sacrificing, noble man. On instinct, she started sprinting back into the park. She wasn’t leaving him behind. Not when they could get out of this together. It was one woman. They could outrun one woman.

She was so hellbent on getting back to drag Drake out of there, she almost didn’t see him, briskly walking toward her. He did a double take when he noticed her, but then held up his hands in front of his chest and shook his head.

“We’re fine!” he called out. “It’s all fine.”

It took her half a second to process his words, but when she did, she slowed her pace, jogging the last few steps to him and tugging one arm free from Bridget to wrap tightly around his neck.

His arms slipped around her waist, holding her close. “We’re fine,” he murmured into her hair, “She didn’t recognize us.”

“Then why was she running at-”

“The flowers. Those were oleander petals. She was worried Bridget was going to poison herself.”

Riley let out a shaky breath as she leaned back slightly, looking Drake dead in the eye. “I thought-”

“I know; me too.” And with that he pulled her and Bridget tight against him again. She tried to calm herself, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, but her heart was still racing. It had all felt too close, too real.

Bridget was still crying, so after a moment, Drake dropped his arms from Riley’s waist and moved to take Bridget, bouncing her on his hip, clearly trying to calm her down. Between her continued tears and screams and the mad dash Riley had just made through the park, they weren’t exactly keeping a low profile.

“We should probably not hang around here after the scene we just caused,” she murmured. Drake nodded briskly, tucking Bridget fully against his side and grabbing Riley’s hand with his free arm. He set a rapid pace as they walked out of the park, not saying anything more until they were all secure in the privacy of their car.

“Drake, what are we doing?” she asked, watching Drake’s shoulder’s sag as he finally seemed to catch his breath. His knuckles were tense as he clutched the steering wheel.

“The best we can, Riley.”

“We couldn’t even spend an hour in a park without making a mess. How are we going to get by?”

He shook his head and let out a sigh. “Well, we’re just going to have to figure it out, aren’t we?”

A wave of guilt washed over her. All of this was her fault. She had no right to express doubt about it now, not after her decision got Drake named a traitor to the Crown. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, running her hand over her face.

“For what?”

“This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

“Riley,” his voice was quiet and his hand slid over onto her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Riley, look at me.”

She twisted in the passenger seat to face him the best she could. She could hear Bridget kicking against the car seat and starting to fuss, clearly expecting the car to be moving at this point, but Drake made no move to start the car.

“This is fucking Barthelemy’s fault.” He stared straight into her eyes as he said it. He looked so earnest that Riley almost believed him. But deep down, she knew that was a mad over simplification of the issue. Maybe he brought it all to a head, but she and Drake had put themselves into a position to have their parenting called into question by assholes like him in the first place.

Still, she knew what Drake was trying to do. He was trying to make her feel better about the whole mess. How he was able to worry about her when he was obviously frazzled and sleep-deprived himself was nothing short of a miracle.

When all she was able to muster was a weak little smile, Drake kept going. “Remember how shitty we both felt those first few weeks home with her?”

Shitty was an understatement. Bridget had been horribly cranky as soon as she wasn’t right in that newborn period. Colicky and loud, she’d cried constantly, often for no apparent reason. She’d fed poorly, slept in tiny little bursts, and didn’t seem to soothe unless she was held, walked around, and all the stars and planets were aligned. Riley had felt like a failure as a mother time and time again. “Yeah, that sucked ass.”

“Right. Both of us had no idea what the hell we were doing, and we were so scared we were gonna be complete garbage at it. But we figured it out, right? There was just a learning curve. This is gonna be the same way.”

“Drake Walker, are you giving me a ‘practice makes perfect’ pep talk about being a fugitive?”

He blushed, just slightly, and gave her a little shrug. “I didn’t mean it to sound so cheesy.”

“No, I think it’s sweet,” she said, grabbing his hand on her knee and threading their fingers together. “But I think we need to start thinking for the long term here. Spending days locked in hotel rooms and then freaking out when we step out in public is not going to work forever.”

He nodded at her. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I think we need some aliases and forged documents. We have no way to earn any money at this point, and if we get asked for our papers, we’re done for right now.”

Riley bit her lip. She knew he was right, and she had an idea of how to go about it. She just wasn’t sure if it was a smart move.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, watching her face carefully.

“I think we’re going to have to find a way to get in touch with Amalas.”

Drake let out a huge sigh at that, so Riley kept going. “I don’t like it either, but if someone we know is equipped to make believable forgeries, it’s her.”

“What is she going to want in exchange, though? She’s an opportunist, and right now we have nothing to offer her.”

Riley shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Drake opened his mouth to say more, but Bridget’s patience ran out at that point, a massive wail echoing through the car.

“To be continued? When she’s not trying to burst our eardrums?” Drake asked, sliding the key into the ignition and starting the car. Riley just nodded. They didn’t have to decide their next steps this moment, but soon, they were going to have to, and Riley had a feeling that no matter what they chose, it was going to feel like the wrong call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olivia scowled a little as she dug through her desk drawer. Her emergency ibuprofen was supposed to be in this drawer, and her head was killing her. She really should start taking meds before her meetings with Maxwell. He had left her office maybe twenty minutes ago, and just like every meeting she’d had with him since this whole mess began, she was now dealing with a migraine.

To be honest, having to listen to Maxwell’s rambling, inefficient accounts of what was going on at Ramsford was just the last irritation that put her over the edge. Having Maxwell, Liam, and now Leo living at the keep, as well as Bertrand and Hana making frequent appearances was just a lot. She was used to her privacy, and the constant activity and bustle in her home was all a bit much to handle.

Leo had arrived Monday, and she’d tasked him with providing Liam emotional support. It was the only thing she trusted him to do, really, and even that was pushing it. But she was busy, managing the press, trying to buy off employees in Portavira to get some dirt on Landon and Emmeline, and providing statements to Bastien regarding her conduct in the days between the initial vote and her reporting Drake and Riley’s disappearance.

Hana was the only one she felt like she didn’t need to keep on a short leash at this point. She was staying at Valtoria to make sure Barthelemy’s people couldn’t gain unauthorized access, and she seemed prepared for her meeting with Rashad tomorrow. Olivia and Hana weren’t exactly sure what Rashad wanted to discuss with her, but they’d reviewed their stories prior to having their official interviews with law enforcement earlier this week, so whatever questions he had, Olivia was confident Hana would have acceptable answers.

But Bertrand was in a tizzy, staying at Ramsford in an effort to prevent his father from forcing him out as head of house, Maxwell was a scatterbrained go between who alternated between forgetting key pieces of info to share and recounting conversations down to the last detail, and Liam seemed to be sinking into a deeper pit of depression every day, leaving her to believe Leo’s efforts were lackluster. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could let these men flounder along before she stepped in and took control.

On top of everything, she still had her typical duties as the Duchess of Lythikos, and reviewing some tax records was her planned task for today. She couldn’t really neglect it any longer, but her migraine was making it difficult to focus on the spreadsheets in front of her.

She finally found her pill bottle and popped three tablets, massaging her temples and hoping the relief would come soon. But before she could return to the task at hand, a knock on her office door interrupted her. She let out a massive sigh and rolled her shoulders back before calling out, “Come in.”

Leo poked his head around the door and grinned at her, striding into her office and sitting down across the desk from her. “How are you today, Liv?”

“Annoyed. What do you want?”

“What, can’t I just come in to chat with my favorite duchess in Cordonia?”

“Not when I am busy putting out seventeen different fires. What. Do. You. Want?”

“I was hoping to talk to Lady Hana.”

Olivia squinted at Leo. He was so predictable. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” His eyebrows flew up almost comically at her response. “Why not?”

“She’s far too nice for the likes of you.”

That little smirk, the one he used to get away with everything, started forming. “Hey, I like nice.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Are you saying you aren’t nice, Liv? I remember you being plenty ‘nice’ to me in the past.”

She shook her head at him. He was far too charming for his own good. “No one in their right mind would call me nice. Besides, this isn’t about a mistake from nearly a decade ago.”

He clutched his hands over his heart, like her words wounded him, but he was openly chuckling. “A mistake? You are indeed a cruel woman, Olivia Nevakris.”

“I’m actually being very kind to you here, protecting your ego from taking a beating when she inevitably rejected any… advances from you.”

“What makes you so sure I am going to seduce her if I speak to her?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be successful, but when was the last time you didn’t try to get into the pants of a pretty woman?”

“Do our conversations not count?”

“I’m not young enough to find that line anything but cheesy.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying. No, but I really was hoping to talk to Lady Hana. Where are her quarters?”

Olivia cocked her head and frowned. She didn’t know how often Hana and Leo had interacted, but it clearly wasn’t all that often if he kept using her title. What he could possibly want from her was a total mystery.

“What do you want to talk to her about?” she asked.

Leo gave a little shrug, “She lived with Drake and Riley, right? Well, I figure she might have a way of getting in touch with them.”

Olivia was careful to keep her face still. She didn’t think Leo was likely to be working for Barthelemy. It wouldn’t make any sense, and his disdain for the way Constantine had ruled had never seemed to apply to his brother. Besides, he’d thrown away his chance at being king, so it’s not like power or glory in a coup would be very tempting to him. But she couldn’t think of a reason why Leo was looking to talk to the Walkers, and after the past few days, she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Why would you think she would be able to get in touch with them?” There, a good opening question that would hopefully get him talking.

“It would make sense that the person they live with is someone they trust the most, right? And her family isn’t caught up in all of this political shit, so she seems like a safe option in that regard, too.”

“Why are you looking to talk to them?”

“Liam seems pretty torn up without Drake here. I thought maybe if I-”

Olivia couldn’t help it, a chuckle of shock and disbelief shot out of her, interrupting Leo.

“What?”

“You had one job - cheer Liam up, and your method of doing so was to attempt to convince Drake and Riley to come back? Gee, why didn’t I think to try that?” she replied, rolling her eyes at the end.

“Ah ha, so you are in touch with them!” he cried out, leaning back in his chair, a smug, shit-eating grin etched across his face.

“Bastard,” Olivia grumbled, shaking her head.

He just grinned wider at that. “It’s alright little Livvy; your secret’s safe with me.”

“Don’t call me ‘little Livvy’ ever again,” she said, leaning across her desk and staring him down, “But even if… theoretically there was a way to talk to Drake and Riley, you won’t be able to convince them to come back. You wouldn’t have been able to a couple of days ago, and you certainly won’t now that warrants have been issued.”

“I’m quite persuasive, you know.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, but I think Drake Walker might be immune to your�� charms, particularly when he and his wife are going to lose custody of their kid if he gives in.”

“Fair enough. Not even worth a shot, then?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, them returning at this point will just be another fire I have to try and put out. Them on the run is easier to deal with than them in prison.”

Liam nodded, swiping his thumb along his jawline. “Alright then. Say there was a theoretical way to get in touch with them. Would someone be able to get them some money?”

Olivia blinked several times as her brain tried to follow this unexpected shift. “I’m sorry, I think I must have just had a stroke. I thought I heard you ask about getting money to them.”

“I’m serious. They can’t use their credit cards, right? All of their funds are frozen, I would assume.”

“Since when are you mister charitable?”

Leo bit his lip, not willing to answer right away apparently. “This stays between us, alright?” he eventually said, his blue eyes wide and earnest. All Olivia could do was nod.

“I know Liam is not exactly thrilled with them. And I get why, and obviously my first choice would be for them to be here.”

“Noted,” Olivia said dryly. She had no idea where this was going, but for this amount of build up, it had better be fucking fascinating.

“I like that they just kind of said… ‘fuck it,’ and left. It’s sort of admirable, isn’t it? That sort of courage and disregard for all rules of courtly conduct?”

Olivia rolled her eyes again. “You just are happy you aren’t the biggest scandal this century in Cordonia anymore.”

“Nah, I’m just thrilled that Drake Walker is suddenly a whole lot more interesting. And what can I say? I always like to take a risky gamble.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Unless you can give me a real reason you want to help them, I am not adding another person to this mess. Particularly one who likes to run his mouth after a few drinks at the craps table.”

Leo frowned at that. “I’m not as heartless as you make me out to be, you know. I’ve known Drake basically his entire life, and I don’t want to see him suffering, particularly since I understand the type of pressures placed on his kid. And… when my mother left my dad, she couldn’t take me. I had to stay in the palace, and you know how that turned out. But if those two found a different way to do things… good for them, I say.”

Olivia stared at Leo, trying to assess his sincerity. He seemed to mean his words, but she wasn’t ready to hand him a bunch of confidential info, not just yet. She would need to talk to Hana first, but Leo might be a nice resource. He traveled all over constantly, so it wouldn’t really seem suspicious for him to head to another country. He might be their best chance to get Riley and Drake their most essential belongings.

“Hana’s gone back to Valtoria, but we can’t have you seen there. She’ll be back Friday.”

“So, I have your permission to talk to her then. My, I am honored.”

“You can talk to her if you actually get Liam to stop wallowing in his quarters, just reviewing ancient law books.”

“Like I said, if you just let me take him to the casinos-”

“For the fifth time, Leo, he cannot be seen gambling after losing his title! Are you fucking stupid?”

Leo grinned widely. “No, but watching your face turn as red as your hair never gets old. He’ll be fine, Liv. He’s just a little weirded out by actually having some time off for the first time in years. Don’t worry, I’ll have him relaxing like me soon enough.”

“Leo!”

“Like I said, it never gets old,” he said, pointing to her face and winking at her. Before she could get a serious answer out of him, her office phone started ringing.

“Oooh, saved by the bell,” he said, popping out of his chair. “I’m getting Liam drunk, so swing by later if you get a chance.”

“Are you fucking serious, Leo?”

“You’ll have to find out later. Better answer that.” He pointed to the phone before ducking out the door with a cheeky little wave.

Taking a calming breath, Olivia picked up the phone. Only official governmental business came through on this landline.

“This is Olivia Nevrakis.”

“Duchess Olivia, it’s Queen Amalas.”

Olivia’s mind raced, trying to determine why she was calling her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have some information for you, and I was wondering how valuable it is or isn’t to you at this point.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know the location of the former Duchess and Duke of Valtoria and the Queen-Regent of Cordonia.”

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trh au #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh au fanfic #olivia nevrakis #roe leo

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moonah-rose · 3 years

Text

King Takes Knight (Part 3)

This has a plot now. Sorta. I don’t know.

Part One

Part Two

(TW: Captivity, isolation, torture, humiliation)

A large wheel is propped up at the front of the stage, each with a panel containing a different word. Scorpions. Spiders. Bees. Bees with Teeth. Lightning. Ice Spears. Nickelback. Whipping. Flesh Tearing.

“Time to spin the Wheel of Misfortune, Bad Janet.” Shawn instructs.

After an obligatory slur, the Bad Janet dressed in a black, glittery showgirl outfit does as instructed. The crowd watching cheer out their predictions as they watch the wheel spin, panels clattering against the arrow at the top, slowing down with each second.

The unlucky ‘contestant’ shivers against the stake in the centre. They’ve wrapped a blindfold around the top of his head so he doesn’t get to see the result. That would ruin the surprise, after all.

The clacking stops. The crowd laughs.

“Ah! Always a classic. Bring them in, boys.” Shawn strides up to Michael, grabbing him by the jaw and putting his lips to his ear; “You’re gonna go for a nice little swim, you stinking jellyfish. There are some creatures who are just eager to play with you...and they are very, very hungry. And horny. And electrified.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd again as a broken whimper escapes through the constrained lips. His chain is loosened, wrists still bound behind his back. There will be no attempt at ‘swimming’ in the tank that’s brought out.

“Don’t worry, Mike. We made sure to keep the water nice and cold for you. It will be like floating on the sea after the Titanic sunk. And we know how much fun those guys had.”

Shawn yanks his hair back as he’s moved forward.

“Hold still. I want Bad Janet’s camera to get a good long look at you...We want your filthy humans to see their demon daddy at his best, don’t we.”

Another cringe, a helpless writhe, then he’s pushed forward into the tank.

“Turn it off.” Tahani requests, getting to her feet and turning her back to the screen, “Please, I can’t watch anymore.”

Janet does as requested. She’s already seen it all for herself. She hadn’t intended on showing the others, hoping what she described would be enough, but she’d had no choice.

She looks to Jason who’s staring forward, vacantly. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was completely oblivious to what was going on. But she knows her boyfriend and knows, more than anything, the worry that’s going on behind those blank looking eyes.

Eleanor remains seated on Mindy’s couch, running her hands over her mouth, her skin much paler than it had been a few minutes ago.

“You see now why I have to go back?” Janet tells them; “This has gone on long enough.”

“She’s right.” Tahani doesn’t miss a beat; “I haven’t seen anything that awful happen to someone I cared about since....You know what, I’ve never cared about any famous person more than I do Michael to compare it to!” she wipes a stray tear from her eyes.

Eleanor gets to her feet; “Look, guys, I get it, I do. That wasn’t easy for me to watch either. But...we need to think about this.”

“What is there to think about?” Tahani challenges; “We need to save Michael! You saw what they were doing to him!”

“I know!” Eleanor responds, heatedly; “I wanna save him too but if we just rush in then we’ll be doing exactly what they want! This isn’t like last time when they didn’t know we would find out Janet had been swapped out - they sent us that footage hoping it would bait us into going back there! They want our Janet to reopen the tunnel because I guess their own Bad Janets suck at it.”

Janet watches as their team leader’s fingers twitch as she clearly struggles to remain pragmatic and reasonable against the distressing footage they’ve just witnessed. A part of her admires and respects Eleanor for thinking clearly. And there’s nothing in Janet’s omniscient mind that would question her reasoning.

Yet, oddly enough, she wants to say ‘fork that’ and get...angry. That’s new.

“I hate to be the one to say it but we’re doing so well and they know this! They’re trying to sabotage us again by having us risk ourselves going back there, which is the last thing Michael would want.”

Jason finally pipes up; “I dunno, I think being pushed into a tank filled with giant electric piranhas, might not be what Michael wants either.”

It’s almost impossible for Jason to sound sarcastic, but Janet senses an undertone of it beneath his usual vague tone.

“Look....Michael knew the risks when he chose to stay behind, he told you guys to get out safe and not to reset...We would be making his sacrifice for nothing if we threw our progress away now...”

“How can you be so cold? He’s our friend!” Tahani stares at her.

“And I was the first one who wanted to go back for him when I saw he wasn’t on that handcart, remember?!” Eleanor snaps back, “Janet was the one who said to wait it out, in case he escaped!”

“I was wrong.”

Everyone goes quiet, their eyes turning to fix on her. She clenches her thumb tight in front of her dress.

“I’ve never been wrong about anything before...I didn’t think it was possible. But I was wrong about that.” Janet admits, her lip wobbling; “I thought they would just do what they did to me for all those months, lock me in a cell and have me watch Vicky’s bad rehearsals. I never thought they would...I hoped that Michael would...”

Jason gets up and quietly moves over, putting his arms around her. She puts her hand to his back, not having realised how badly she needed a hug right now.

“It was easier not knowing...Horrible but, you’re right...Now I can’t stop picturing what they’ve been doing to him. Poor Michael. He looked so...” Tahani’s fingers touch her hcest.

Small. Scared. Weak.

Alone.

“We only have a few months left. He’s lasted this long, if we can just bear through-.” Eleanor tries.

“No.” Janet responds.

She’s not used to saying that word.

Eleanor looks at her, sympathetically; “Babe, I know it’s hard, trust me-.” She tries to reach other to touch Janet’s wrist.

She moves back.

“No, Eleanor. I don’t think you have any idea how hard it is.”

“Oh, really? You don’t think that I’ve had to make sacrifices recently? Did you forget what I had to give up...What Chidi had to-?”

“Chidi gets to walk around in the fresh air, he gets to teach and do the things he loves, with only the mild anxious torture. You get to watch over him and make sure he’s safe and know that in a few months, he’ll remember you again.” Janet points out, “Michael is suffering. Every second he stays down there...and you know, as well as I do, Eleanor, what a baby he can be just getting a hangnail. He did that...to save me. To help us! And you just want to leave him there?!”

Eleanor exhales, looking a little knocked back. It’s about time someone knocked her out of the tunnel vision she’s locked herself in since this started.

“Of course not.” She replies, voice breaking; “I’m just not sure-.”

“He loves you.”

Eleanor stops. Her mouth opens, wordless.

“You know it already, don’t you? You must know, you’re not stupid.” Janet tells her, “He loves all of you so forking much...If you don’t know that, I might need to check you didn’t suffer some sort of aneurysm when he gave your memories back, because I saw it all. I watched him start to grow tired of torturing you all. I watched him have to fake looking ecstatic when Shawn said he was being promoted and then, as soon as he was free too, have a freak out at the idea of having to betray you all. I watched him collect all the mementos he has of his time with you guys. I’ve listened him talk for hours about how he adores you all...”

Tahani and Jason both look solemn. Janet’s eyes focus on Eleanor.

“I watched him cling to your ticker tape for over a year. Never sleeping, never stopping...You were all he cared about in the Universe and was prepared to risk everything to save you all. And he’s never once asked for anything in return...He sure as There wouldn’t ask you to save him now. That’s why we should.” Janet rouses, “Jason told me about what happened that night before I got rescued. Michael did so much for you all and you were willing to risk losing him over a lie.”

“It wasn’t like that-.” Eleanor winces with guilt.

“He’s never stopped believing in any of you guys since he changed.” Janet cuts in, “And he’d literally jump into fire to save any of you! But you’re not willing to do the same for him? Damn...you humans. I’m starting to get why some immortals feel the need to torture you.”

That feels like too much to say. Being angry isn’t fun, it turns out. It almost conflicts enough with her Good nature that she feels ready to melt. No wonder humans say and do stupid things when they’re pissed off.

“Janet...You know what’s at stake here and why we need you-.” Eleanor tries again.

“So we should be willing to let Michael be in pain in order to win?” Tahani interrupts; “I’m sorry, Eleanor, but I’m with Janet on this one. If saving humanity means sacrificing our own then I want no part of it.”

“Oooh, good one.” Jason comments.

“Thank you.”

Eleanor rolls her eyes. Janet can see how torn up she is right now. It’s no easy position to be in. But neither is the torture dungeon where one of them is trapped right now.

She takes a step forward, reaching out to touch Eleanor’s arm.

The short human sniffs; “...Why did we have to teach him to be so....not selfish?!”

“If it helps, I don’t think you did. Michael might have learned ethics and morals from you guys...But that love he has? That...unconditional, reckless, self-sacrificing love? He found that all on his own. It’s easy for me, I was designed to care about humans. But Michael had to fight against every one of his natural, evil impulses to be our friend. You don’t have to love him back after what he did to you for all those years....But you should at least appreciate that.”

The humans have no words. So much for Janet’s not being one for speeches. But then she’s no ordinary Janet.

Enough chit-chatting. That’s just another few minutes Michael has had to suffer.

“You guys have shown you can run the neighbourhood with just Derek. You can do it again. I’m going to rescue my friend...my oldest, my truest, most loyal friend...” She repeats the words he said to her; “...Because I do love him.”

To love a demon, something else that seems to go against her natural instinct, as she feels her essence fizzle a little. Worth it.

#whump #angst #tgp fanfic

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mk-asks-and-headcannons · 5 years

Note

Could you do the ship questions for CageBlade? Thank you

Of course friend.

Who is the most affectionate?

Both show plenty of affection toward one another, however, Johnny is much gaudier when expressing his love. He is more likely to indulge in PDA or sweet talk Sonya by flattering her until she loses her composure (and that's regardless if they’re in public or not. But something tells me Johnny would get a kick out of embarrassing Sonya a bit.) Sonya is much more subtle but still loving as she’d be the type to have Johnny’s coffee made just the way he likes it and serves it with a peck on the cheek. There are also rare but meaningful compliments.

Big spoon/Little spoon?

I actually see Sonya being the big spoon. Yep. Johnny is a helpless little spoon who adores cuddles. He’s also a sucker for having his back rubbed and his hair tussled. This also kinda works since Sonya sometimes feels more dominant and she’s got much longer hair.

Most common argument?

For the most part, it starts about disagreements. This is since Sonya believes Johnny takes nothing seriously and Johnny doesn’t want to believe that Sonya is just a hardass. It becomes more serious and becomes an argument when one makes a dig about the others’ character, and things become personal quickly. These words cut deep like blades, but below the surface, their intents aren’t malicious.

Favorite non-sexual activity?

Four words: Johnny. Cage. Movie. Night! Now of course there will be hors d’ oeuvres and refreshments as these nights should be something to remember! Johnny is definitely one to playfully scold Sonya if she looked away at “The best part.” Sonya is also that friend who asks questions during the movie, but then the question is immediately answered, but they can't hear it because they're talking. They definitely talk about films after they watch, and Sonya has a got a helluva critique for ninja mime 4 and has Kabal on speed dial if Johnny has any objections (I know that kinda hated each other, but they made up and have a friendship built upon the foundation of how much they hate ninja mime 4! It’s cannon -- no kannon guys!).

Who is most likely to carry the other?

It should probably go without saying it’d be more likely for Johnny to carry Sonya (But Sonya is strong as hell nonetheless. We just want to save you the grief of imagining Sonya trying to lug around Johnny...) Sonya also secretly loves it when she’s swooped off her feet like you’d see in the movies. She gets a little flustered and usually hides her face in Johnny’s chest if she’s being carried bridal style. And Johnny knows this. And adores it.

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

When Sonya finds herself gazing into Johnny’s eyes, she is practically mesmerized. He has a nice pair of brown orbs (particularly in mk 11. imo his face was a bit more feminine due to his eyes? But that's just me) and she loves when he winks at her. It’s just so refreshing to take a gander at that face when a pair of $500 sunglasses aren’t shielding it.

If we’re being honest? Johnny just thinking of Sonya’s legs makes him weak in this knees. She’s a strong woman with a nice pair of ‘em and she knows how to use them whether she is in kombat or she wants to woo Johnny.

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

This one applies for both of them. Both most definitely watch out for there personal hygiene more subtly primping themselves up for the others’ attention. Sonya would wear Johnny’s favorite scent while Johnny’s hair is much more gelled than usual.

Johnny would also become more protective and would love to show off in front of Sonya (even though Johnny just isn’t a hypermasculine guy) and I also see Sonya doing this, but Sonya wouldn’t fail to impress unlike Johnny...he’s more clumsy. But I definitely see Soyna being more mild when it comes to showing off since she’s not that ready to risk sacrificing her pride.

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Nicknames for Sonya: Mrs. Cage, Baby/Babycakes, Moviestar, Sugarlips, other schmoozy nicknames. The only names with actual meaning are Mrs. Cage since he’s always joked about wifing Sonya up and having her as his) and Moviestar, since Sonya does things that takes Johnny’s breath away more than any action movie or star could. That woman blows him away.

Nicknames for Johnny: When she’s not addressing him as “asshole” Johnny adores it when Sonya uses his name since Sonya can be brutal with her teasing calling him anything but.

Who worries the most?

Definitely Sonya. She’s just much better at putting on a face and hiding it. Whenever it seems like she is barking unnecessary orders or is tedious, it comes from a place of worry if not anxiety. Sonya loves control. And she is willing to fight for that feeling.

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Johnny has all of the hookups and knows waiters, waitresses, cooks, and managers by name in the swankiest eateries. If he can remember that then he can surely remember what Sonya wants when she’s craving some grub. It doesn’t fail to flatter Sonya when Johnny remembers these things.

Who tops?

Not sure if this specifically refers to who is more dominant in the bedroom or who is literally on top usually. Regardless, I see both applying to Sonya as she’s a lady who knows what she wants and her assertiveness makes Johnny flutter. This also goes back to Sonya’s desire or maybe need to be in control even during intimacy.

Who initiates kisses?

When it comes to pecks on the lips, cheek or forehead, Sonya has those in the bag. They’re short and sweet. Johnny is much more likely to initiate more longing kisses as he grazes his thumb onto Sonya’s chin. He’s even one to initiate steamy makeout sessions.

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Johnny being the sweetheart and romantic at heart he is. I also see Sonya taking a while to warm up to physical affection.

Who kisses the hardest?

Sonya. I see Johnny being much more tender. Sonya’s aggressiveness took Johnny aback the first time, but at this point, Johnny certainly doesn’t mind.

Who wakes up first?

Sonya. Her body is set on a particular timetable and she sticks to it. But she’s not one to force Johnny to be an early riser if he’s not cool with that. One of the first things she does when she gets up is cup Johnny’s snoozing face as she gazes down at him. If she’s feeling extra affectionate, she’ll plant a kiss on his face ever so slightly not to wake him. Hours later when Johnny wakes up, Sonya reverts to her old self as if none of that sappy mumbo jumbo in bed didn’t happen.

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

If you’re one to sleep in until 1 pm, Johnny is your guy. With his love of sleep and spooning, it takes a lot of willpower from Sonya to not succumb to the temptation of Johnny as his offer. But she’d never admit that Cage makes her feel tempted.

Who says I love you first?

Who gets jealous easiest

Both can be possessive and protective of one another, but Johnny is definitely the jealous type. Once he has his eye on someone special, and they feel the same way about him, he doesn’t want to lose that person by any means, so he’ll be damned if one of those reasons is a pair of prying eyes.

Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

Johnny has more...creative methods of showing the people close to him that he loves them and this just may include silly notes in Sonya’s lunch. Sonya loves pasta with specific types of cheeses (she drools over Italian cuisine). One note that made her chuckle in particular, was a post-it note on top of a Tupperware dish with alfredo in it, the note reads, “This may sound cheesy, but I think you’re grate :)”

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Sonya. She’s closer to her family while Johnny isn’t. Johnny is also hesitant to share his dating status as his folks are extremely toxic and judgemental. They have opinions about who Johnny should be dating and would prefer that he settles down with a nice, more traditional rich girl. And the families judgment has only gotten worse since Johnny found fame.

What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Each person family has a negative reaction to some degree. On Sonya’s side, it’s hard to hear, but Johnny is a grade a movie star! And Sonya? Just a military lady. Sonya’s family and friends are curious as to what Johnny sees in her, and what should convince them that this Hollywood sleazebag isn’t just toying with Sonya’s feelings?

Again with Johnny’s family, they are almost automatically disapproving as they see Sonya’s down to Earth nature and not richness offputting.

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Johnny. Can’t dance, but is silly enough to try and dance like no one is watching furthering making Sonya go red. Something they can do successfully is slow dancing and swaying. They both love being close to each other.

Who tries to do subtle things that they know drives the other crazy

Both do this, but it’s much more effective when Sonya does this since this behavior is expected of Johnny. And boy is he surprised when Sonya becomes a flirt all of a sudden.

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Sonya somehow manages to still burn toast, and Johnny merely dabbles with food. Needless to say, they are much more of a take-out kind of couple.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Is this even a question...? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Again - is this even a question...? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Who needs more assurance?

Johnny is more likely to be vulnerable with his partner if the relationship is deep enough, and if his vulnerability is an 11 out of 10, he’ll need some comforting. It’s so different from Cage’s usual flashy persona, so when Sonya is faced with Johnny being a vulnerable mess, its awkward at first. But later when they understand each others’ needs as a couple, they handle these things much better creating emotional safe places practically.

What would be their theme song?

This one was really hard (forgive me for the lackluster answer), but I chose “Ridin round” by Kalis Uchis ft Tory Lanez (Oshi Redo) (Here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPYQMcM7q1MI ). I listened to this song recently, and tbh it’s a badass bop. Is it suitable for cageblade? Debateable. Is cageblade a badass ship? The answer is yes and that's not debatable.

Who brings up the idea of kids?

Surprisingly, the actor who has left a trail of broken hearts is the one who discusses the idea of settling down and starting a family. And originally, Sonya didn’t have that intent as she is driven by her career. This heavily shaped the relationship and Cassie’s upbringing due to Sonya’s headstrong way of looking at things.

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Johnny. And that man can’t even sing. The very first time he does this, Sonya watches in amusement wondering if he’ll calm or horrify that poor thing.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Both have lives and outside of each other and that’s totally normal and healthy. If either isn’t in kombat, you’ll find Johnny on one of his movie sets if he’s not playing video games with Cassie and wiping the floor with her in Mario Kart 8. Sonya will be doing her usually military drills if not training her troops. Johnny is more prone to talk about Sonya to others while Sonya likes to keep things professional while she is Major Blade.

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

Though being on again/ off again may be necessary for some couples, it may have caused some of their undoings (following the events of MKX). Particularly when Cassie was born and Sonya never played out as a central role in her childhood. Though the couple had their disagreements, it shouldn’t have affected Cassie in my opinion.

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it

They’re one of those polar opposite couples that helps the other grow in specific ways. Johnny teaches Sonya to face her fears and helps her kombat her stubbornness, while Sonya is filled with wisdom, as he hasn’t had the easiest life, providing Johnny with new perspectives in life, and also maturing him a bit, teaching him that not everything has to be a joke. There’s a time and place. And despite their differences, they have love for one another.

Now. This list was very tedious, but I’m still happy with the end result! Thank you for this ask! Johnny and Sonya have always been favorites of mine.

Oh, and by the way - I am officially back.

#Mortal Kombat #MK #mk11 #MK 11 #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat headcanon #mortal kombat headcannons #ship #ships #sonya blade #Sonya #johnny cage #cageblade #cassie cage #romance headcannon

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vancilocs · 4 years

Note

4, 6, 10, 19, 20 22 29 30 34 36 41-45 for roxette, remy and iain?

all sortsa people

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?

Roxie’s parents got together, married and had her far too young so they also split up when she was just a toddler and kept in pretty minimal contact. So she could pretty much do what she liked because A) her parents were trying to one-up the other by being more lenient and nicer to her so she could literally just say “but daddy lets me-” and her mom would let her do that and more, and B) the parents didn’t speak to one another so she could get both of them to take her to the zoo because the other didn’t know she had already been there with the other. Boi did she learn how to manipulate people quick

Remy’s mom wasn’t overtly strict but not overtly lenient either. She made sure to teach her kids manners, respect and all that, gave them rules, grounded if needed, but really nothing out of the ordinary.

Outwards the family was just spotless and perfect, but Iain’s parents were pretty strict and quite demanding of him (his sister too). But, as long as he pulled straight A’s from school, he could do what he liked with his spare time before curfew.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?

She grew up holding the leash of both her parents, but when they remarried and had other children when Roxie was in her teens, she was absolutely mortally insulted. So that feeling of affection turned into rejection really quick because she wasn’t the center of their world at all and this wouldn’t do.

Affection, dad wasn’t around but mom is and was very loving and nurturing, and there were aunts, uncles and grandmas and grandpas. So even if he had to share with his other two siblings there was plenty of love to go around

Mainly affection, but very conditional and like he had to be even better because he was born “imperfect”. He still loves his parents and kinda refuses to see how their demands still affect his life.

10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted?

Very street-smart and quick-witted, very manipulative. Knows how to use her looks to fool people and make them underestimate her.

Very very street-smart, always knows a chance to profit when he sees one. An expert on doing crimes without actually doing crimes and thus avoiding jail.

Book-smart and intelligent, good with people as well. Persuasive.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

Used to think she was the only thing her parents could care about until she wasn’t. These days maybe she’s a little unaware of how unhinged she actually is

He has a habit of not trusting anything or anyone outright, he’s the doubting kind who absolutely wants to dig into the very root of everything and see things out of every angle. He also sees the worst sides of a lot of things and people so he really has no disillusions about the world.

He’s just stuck on the thought that he needs to be better. Doesn’t matter what it is, he needs to be smarter, stronger, thinner, a better doctor, a better friend, a better husband, do this, do that, do everything cool, run a marathon, just constantly improve.

20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced?

It’s hard to think about big events like that but maybe for Remy when Krea dang near got murdered, because to him the judge is damn near unstoppable and probably immortal, to see him die was pretty eye-opening. Impressive that someone that much smaller could do him in like that

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or 'ideal’ partner?

She has some friends she hangs out with when off work, regular people like club waitresses, dancers, bartenders and bouncers. She has a boyfriend or a girlfriend every now and then, usually it ends at least when they find out about her actual job or she just loses her cool like she does. Doesn’t care about the physical side but you gotta be a little crazy for her to like you. Wouldn’t mind a squeeze, casual or not.

Lots and lots of friends he hangs out with often, very few close friends though because he doesn’t trust like that. Lovers he really doesn’t have time for nor does he really care enough to have a type.

Befriends everyone if they allow it, a very friendly and outgoing guy happy to make new acquaintances. He’s been married three times - the first wife he left because he fell in love with the second one who was terminally ill and later passed away, years later he fell in love with Malva and married them. Really no type or preference, be cute and friendly, really the type of guy to fall in love with your heart and personality

29. What is your character’s weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling?

Addict, easily angered and prone to moodswings, unless she’s been given clear orders on what to do or not to do she can act real irrationally when she lets her feelings lead, messy

Too nosy for his own good, physically tiny, has a billion irons in the fire at the same time and without his trusted helpers would be so lost

Absolute refusal to take it easy

30. Are they holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive?

For no good reason thinks her parents outright betrayed her, refuses to forgive. Holds very long grudges against former partners too, none of her breakups have gone well

Made some dreadful mistakes that cost him his tail, will never forgive himself for that

He doesn’t blame his parents at all for making him such an overachiever, though he doesn’t even consider himself that nor does he think it’s anything to blame anyone for or anything to forgive

34. Does your character feel self-righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous?

In her opinion nobody should ever be mean to her or do things she doesn’t like or she will hurt them

He’s just doing his thing, no need for big words.

He’s kinda vain but doesn’t consider himself better than anyone (just himself). Very chill and nice

36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering?

Like, if a guy is harassing some girl at the club she absolutely hates seeing the girl in distress and very gleeful about knocking the guy’s teeth out. Depends on the situation. As for suffering herself... well, she’s never minded a bit of pain in the right circumstances

If they’re bad people then sure, he steals their money and sees them scramble and laughs about it. But he also sees a lot of little people suffering and hates it. Doesn’t want to suffer.

He’s a doctor, absolutely doesn’t want people to suffer. Will do anything to fix up something cosmetic or related to prosthetics that causes his patients pain or other kinds of anguish (though he avoids doing things like unnecessary nose jobs or facelifts, embrace your looks people). Not a fan of suffering himself yet he makes himself do that by doing triathlons

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony?

In her eyes she’s a nice person who doesn’t deserve anything bad to be done to her and everyone who’s ever criticised her is wrong and mean. She’s great and pretty and pretty great. At times she will criticize others for doing the same bad things she does, don’t point this out to her or she will get mad

He’s self-aware, he has his little pizza hands in so many soups that he kinda has to have a good sense of self before dealing with so many others.

I guess Iain is always a little separate from the Better Iain he’s always striving to be. There will always be a Better Iain no matter how hard he works

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?

She just wants money, alcohol, cocaine, new clothes, a soft bed to sleep in, good things to eat, all the nice things, someone to pet her hair and tell her how great she is and maybe top her. Is that so much to ask. She’s would probably toss almost everyone she knows to the wolves to get that

He always wants information and at times goes to insane lengths to get it, but avoids sacrificing or risking too much, no lives are put in danger (or, any lives he cares about at least) or outsiders harmed. Mainly he just uses a shitton of money in bribes and acts as fast as he can to get to the information first

Be the Best he can be, dammit. What is the Best he can be? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know to get there

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back?

Well she’s not super open about her work to anyone except those who know otherwise. Just says she works at the club, doing some peacekeeping.

He knows lots of secrets of other people, but for his own he doesn’t let his mom know what he’s up to bc he knows she’d disapprove and he doesn’t want that

No, he’s an open book.

44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them?

Her goals are pretty short-term, think “beating this guy into a pulp so I can go back to the club and get absolutely cranked”, or “I want this guy to rail me”, she’ll do whatever’s needed to get it, be it beating someone into a pulp or being cute and batting her eyelashes

He’s careful about learning stuff and things but he does want to learn stuff and things, always working towards doing that and also using the things he’s learned to his advantage

Dude’s a vegetarian gym rat health nut, maybe his methods are very innocent-sounding but he cranks them up to 11

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic?

Very intense and passionate, acts fast, punches first and asks second if it seems the situation needed it, gets annoyed if she needs to stay back but will listen to her boss.

The type to stand back for a long time, observe from afar and learn everything there is to learn before acting or carefully moving closer to learn more. A lot of the time he doesn’t even act, at most he’ll sell the information to someone who might find it useful.

Responsible but passionate, looks at a lot of things from many angles before going for it and encourages others to do so as well. In work absolutely not the type to just dive into cosmetic surgery to “fix” something that doesn’t need fixing, works with the patient first to see if this is what they really need (he hasn’t had absolutely no procedures himself either).

#i still haven't settled on a sexuality with remy #iain and roxette actually share half of their ancestry #both are half scottish #long oc thing #iain needs to be stopped and thankfully juno and malva both talk sense into him #before he ends up sleeping at the office and eating only raw fruit and hitting the gym as soon as he's off work #roxie: *gets thrown in a cell for the night for beating someone up behind a bar*#also roxie: *crying* 'i'm a good fucking person i don't deserve this'

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mikauzoran · 5 years

Text

Adrienette Drabble Twenty-Three: Slip

Meanwhile, Marinette was screaming into her throw pillow.

Tikki floated down and landed on Marinette’s knee. “It’s not that bad,” she tried to comfort her chosen.

Comforting Marinette had been a Herculean effort as of late. The freak outs and the breakdowns had only been getting worse, and, most of the time, Marinette couldn’t even identify why she was upset. The random, unpredictable, nameless panic (horror, dread, guilt) Marinette felt was wearing her down.

Marinette removed the pillow from her face to stare, lost, at Tikki. “Adrien thinks it’s great that I’m hanging out with Luka. He wants to hang out the three of us together. Can you imagine that? ‘Luka, this is the guy I’m still hopelessly in love with. Adrien, this is the guy I’ve been low-key crushing on for a few years now. And we’re dating! Surprise! I know you didn’t think there was anything more I could do to grind your heart into dust, but, guess what? I found a way!’”

Marinette groaned as she picked the pillow back up to resume smothering herself.

“Marinette,” Tikki called softly. “You owe it to yourself to give other people a chance. You spent years turning down others for Adrien, and there have been plenty of times when you regretted it. You’ve been thinking ‘what if’ about Luka for a long time now. Leave your baggage from Adrien at the door and let yourself be fully present with Luka.”

“Easier said than done,” Marinette retorted, but the pillow muffled her voice. “I’m afraid I’m not being fair to Luka.”

“You told him there was someone else when he asked you out,” Tikki reminded. “He went into this with his eyes open.”

“I don’t think I was as clear as I should have been about how big of a deal the someone else was,” Marinette muttered.

“Being with Luka makes you happy,” Tikki argued. “Let yourself be happy, Marinette. You don’t have to feel guilty about being happy.”

Marinette snorted. “I feel like I do when it’s at someone else’s expense.”

“Adrien doesn’t know,” Tikki reasoned. “You’re not hurting him.”

“Yet,” Marinette spat. “He’s going to find out.”

Tikki pursed her lips. “…Maybe…maybe just focus on yourself right now. As much as Adrien isn’t emotionally healthy enough to be in a relationship at the moment, I don’t really think you are either. You’ve gotten better in recent years, but you’re about as guilty as he is of obsessing and idolizing. Until you’re able to accept him—not just as the gorgeous, smart, kind model but also as the damaged, jealous, self-sacrificing mess that he is—with all of his baggage in tow, you have no business being with that boy. You’ll only make him worse if you’re not healthy yourself and willing to be in a real relationship that’s going to take work.”

Marinette tucked the throw pillow behind her and laid back with a sigh. “Time to put my big girl pants on and get to work, huh?”

Tikki nodded. “Get out of your own head. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and sorry for others and just put that effort into fixing things already.”

With another sigh, Marinette nodded resolutely. “All right. Time to do better…. Do you think maybe I should get a guidance counselor or something? Nino mentioned that talking things out might help. I’ve been talking to him, and I know he doesn’t mind, that he’s happy to be there for me, but…it’s really not fair to poor Nino.”

“I think a guidance counselor might be good, Marinette. You can at least give it a try and see if it helps,” Tikki encouraged.

Marinette nodded again. “It couldn’t hurt. Okay. All right. I’ll talk to my parents.”

“Good.” Tikki hesitated before tentatively floating up to nuzzle Marinette’s cheek. “You’re doing a good job, Marinette. I’m really proud of you.”

Marinette chuckled and returned the nuzzle. “Thanks, Tikki.”

They both breathed a sigh of relief as they separated, smiling shyly at one another.

Their bond had been stretched to the limit over the past month. Trust had been broken, but things were slowly beginning to feel okay again and gradually return to normal.

“…So…you talked to Adrien,” Tikki remarked, unsure if she was allowed to speak on the topic.

Marinette nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, and, except for the part at the end, I think it went really well.”

Tikki nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “Yes, you two sounded like your usual selves. It…it was good to hear you sound happy.”

Marinette grimaced. “I haven’t been very happy lately, have I?”

Tikki slowly shook her head. “Only when you’re with Luka, really. I mean, you do have your moments now and then, but…it’s like you’ve had a little black cloud following you around these past few weeks.”

Marinette smiled sadly. “I feel…weighed down.”

Tikki went to curl up on Marinette’s shoulder. “You’ll bounce back.”

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed.

“…Adrien seems to have bounced back rather quickly, considering how devastated he was at first,” Tikki cautiously remarked.

“Yeah,” Marinette hummed contemplatively. “I honestly thought Nino was lying to try to make me feel better, but…Adrien is an optimistic person to start with, and he’s had a whole life full of personal tragedies to practice bouncing back from…. I didn’t mean to be more of the same for him.”

“Shh. Go back to blaming me for that,” Tikki coaxed.

Marinette tipped her head to rest against Tikki. “No. I always get on Adrien’s case for blaming others for his problems. I shouldn’t be a hypocrite.”

Tikki pet Marinette’s cheek. “Let’s do something else. Let’s do something fun.”

“I’m too tired for fun,” Marinette groaned.

Tikki bit her lip and decided to take a calculated risk in hopes of distracting her chosen from her sullen mood. “Then how about we look up those photos of Adrien at karaoke on Thursday. There are always surreptitious photos of him on social media. I bet you could just Google ‘Adrien Agreste karaoke’ and get a bunch of photos and videos.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her brow as she considered Tikki’s proposal. “That…I mean…I am curious about his outfit, and I’d be interested in hearing him sing, but…wouldn’t it be wrong to ogle photos of another guy—especially that guy—while I’m dating Luka? That’s not cheating, is it?”

Tikki rolled her lips back over her teeth and bit down thoughtfully. “Hmm. I think…it’s okay. You’re not flirting with Adrien or exchanging physical affection. You’re just looking at photos.”

“I feel like it’s possible to mentally and emotionally be unfaithful,” Marinette grumbled. “I mean, I wouldn’t want Adrien to be looking at pictures of other girls and thinking of girls besides me, so…”

Tikki winced. “You mean Luka.”

Marinette’s face went as red as Alya’s favourite lipstick. “Yeah. That one. That’s the one I meant.”

“Then don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Tikki sighed. “I’m not a human being, Marinette. I don’t fully understand your system of values and morals, so you’re the best judge of this. Don’t do anything you think is wrong.”

“Well, as evidenced just now by my slipup, apparently I’m already the kind of scum that emotionally cheats on her wonderful, sweet, kind, understanding boyfriend, so what more harm could looking at some pictures do?” Marinette scoffed in frustration with herself as she opened up Google on her phone.

The first search results came back and fried Marinette’s brain. “Ngh,” she whimpered.

Tikki floated up to take a look. “Oh my,” she snickered. “I can’t believe Plagg let him go out like that. No wonder he was getting hit on so aggressively. I’m no expert in the attractiveness of human beings, but he looks like a desirable mate. That outfit really displays all of his assets: strong arms, core strength, toned—”

“—Yes, Tikki. I can see his assets, thank you. No need to draw any more attention to them,” Marinette groaned. “…I’m just now realizing that I have totally screwed up my life.”

Tikki arched an eyebrow. “Why? What do you mean?”

“I could be having sex with that right now, and I’m not,” Marinette whined, jabbing a finger at her screen. “Clearly, I have committed some egregious error.”

Tikki rolled her eyes. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You know as well as I do that a relationship is more than just lust. You want more from him than that, and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed. “And he gets enough of being objectified on a daily basis, but…guys aren’t the only ones with hormones, and I’ve wanted him for literal years.”

“Well, you don’t need to be sleeping with anyone right now. Being someone’s mate complicates things, Marinette. It’s messy. I’ve seen it before, and I’m telling you that you don’t need those kinds of complications.”

Marinette grumbled sullenly. “Nino and Alya manage just fine.”

“Nino and Alya have excellent communication and honesty on their side,” Tikki retorted.

“But…my partnership with Chat is unshakeable,” Marinette argued. “We communicate with glances and minuscule muscle twitches. We’ve taken nonverbal communication and made it into an art form!”

“You and Adrien may be in perfect sync when you fight together, but, out of battle, you’re not on the same page. You’re not even on the same chapter. You might not be reading the same book!” Tikki scoffed. “Your verbal communication could use some work. And your honesty.”

“Are we forgetting whose fault the honesty issue is? I’m as honest with him as I can be,” Marinette argued.

“You don’t trust him.”

“I trust him more than anyone!” Marinette laughed bitterly. “I trust him with my life.”

“But not your heart,” Tikki countered. “Okay. To be fair to you, you did need some space to sort through your feelings for Adrien and Chat after you found out they were one and the same. That was fine. You did the mature thing to recognize you weren’t ready to be in a relationship even though you wanted to. But now that you’ve processed your feelings and realize you still love him, what are you doing?”

“I’m dating Luka for some stability…to try to see if I can be happy with somebody else…and so that I don’t have regrets about never dating other people,” Marinette recited from the list she had written out before agreeing to date Luka.

Tikki nodded diplomatically. “Okay. Yes. That too, and that’s good, Marinette. That’s healthy, but what I was going to say was that you’re hiding. You’re scared to accept Adrien as he is. You’ve wanted him so long and imagined what it would be like to be together, and now that it’s happening, you’re scared because it isn’t anything like you’d dreamed it would be. He’s not exactly the person you thought he was, and you’re intimidated by the amount of work you’re going to have to put in to make a relationship with him work. And that’s okay,” Tikki assured.

“That’s okay,” she repeated. “It’s fine to be scared. It’s normal to have doubts. It’s okay if you decide you really don’t want to be in a relationship with Adrien after all. You have the right to make that decision. If you decide it’s too hard or too draining or too overwhelming, it’s perfectly okay to say no.”

“Then why are you scolding me?” Marinette muttered.

“Because you’re not dealing with the problem; you’re avoiding it. It was fine to create some space between you and Adrien when you were sorting out your feelings and coming to terms with things, but now you’re just avoiding him because you don’t want to take the next step and deal with the issues,” Tikki accused as kindly as she could, hoping to help Marinette see where she needed to go from there to start fixing things.

Marinette frowned. “But Nino said that I should keep away from Adrien so he could get better and not end up using me as a crutch.”

“Ask Nino if he still thinks that’s the case, but that was, what? Two weeks ago? And Adrien sounded like he’d made huge improvements on the phone just now. I think it’s time to start trying to repair the friendship.”

“I don’t know if I can go back to how things were with Adrien without cheating on Luka,” Marinette admitted with a sigh of disappointment in herself. She was supposed to be better than this.

“Well, don’t jump back in where you left off. Give the both of you a little more room than that—no snuggling, no texting each other until early in the morning, and no more pseudo-dates—but start actively trying to be friends with him again. Maybe hang out in a group?”

Marinette made a soft, reluctant sound. “Maybe…maybe next week.”

“Don’t put it off,” Tikki warned. “You’ll never actually carry through if you start procrastinating now.”

“I called him today, didn’t I? I talked to him of my own free will. That’s progress, isn’t it?” Marinette whined. “This is hard! I’m really, really terrified of screwing this up and hurting him even more!”

Tikki flew in to softly pet Marinette’s hair. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re doing well, but I know you’re capable of pushing yourself a little harder. It may not be pleasant, but it will be worth it. Your friendship with Adrien is worth it.”

Marinette made a small noise of agreement. “I’ll…talk to Nino…in a day or two.”

“I’m going to remind you to do so,” Tikki warned. “You can do this, Marinette. You’re Ladybug.”

“Sometimes I don’t feel much like Ladybug,” Marinette groaned, waking up her phone screen to stare at the photos of Adrien.

She sighed dreamily and wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over his—

“—This is definitely cheating on Luka,” she decided, forcing herself to close the window with the photos. She clicked open one of the videos instead to listen to the music.

The one she selected ended up being Adrien singing Mama Mia.

Guilt flooded Marinette’s chest at the sincerity with which Adrien sang the words.

She skipped to another video, the one of Elise, Chloé, and Adrien singing It’s Raining Men. She watched Nino and Adrien’s duet after that and was in the middle of Adrien singing Like a Prayer when her phone rang.

Marinette fumbled the device and had to retrieve it from under her chaise. She glanced at the screen, and even more guilt was heaped on top of the generous serving she was already wading through.

It was Luka calling.

“H-Hey!” she greeted, injecting false cheerfulness into her voice. “Hey. I was just…I was just thinking of you.”

She had got to get her life in order. Things could not continue like this. She was only hurting everyone involved by being indecisive and hesitating.

She remembered Tikki’s advice to be fully present with Luka.

“Hey, are you free this evening?” she suddenly interjected. “If so, let’s go on a date. I can make dinner for us, and we can snuggle on the couch and watch a movie or maybe go for a walk by the Seine. You could play me your newest song, and I could show you the designs I’ve been working on…. I’m kind of feeling a little down, and I…I want to see you.”

#Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Tikki #Mikau's Writings #There's a Daisy

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

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Midsommar spoilers ahead – read at yer own risk.

This post contains discussions of suicide, murder-suicide, graphic ritualistic violence, dissociation and mental illness. These are triggers that also apply to the film, so please be careful if you decide to go and see this film.

I went to see Midsommar last night. I thought it was a fantastic film, that raised a lot of interesting themes about gaslighting, dissociation, belonging, fascism and free will.

I’ll start with the cinematography. This film is gorgeous. The scenery is so beautiful it’s almost unbelievable – rolling greens and constant blue skies. Probably not the normal setting for a horror film, right? Compare this to the cinematography of Aster’s other film, Hereditary, with its bleak, oppressive constant grey-tone, and you’d be forgiven for thinking that Midsommar was a departure from the horror genre all together. This works in Midsommar’s favour, though. It’s horror in broad daylight, constant daylight. I think it’s important to remember that the horror genre is not, and should not, be limited to just gruesome torture porn, or an endless assault of blood, gore and guts. I mean, I like bloody horror as much as the next person, but that is not where the genre should begin and end. Of course, Midsommar has some incredibly gruesome aspects (meaning that in Britain, the film has received a rating of ‘18’). The suicide of the two elderly members of the Hårga is played on screen with an unflinching gaze, and it is about as shocking as shocking gets. Especially when the elderly man jumps in such a way that he doesn’t immediately die, and instead shatters his legs. The other Hårga members caving in his skull with a large wooden mallet elicited pained gasps from many of the people sat in the cinema with me. It was brutal. But the main thing I took away from the film was an unrelenting reminder that grief is a transformative experience – not always for the better – and that vulnerable people can be drawn to bad people, bad organizations, or to make bad decisions, and we must question whether this means they are irredeemable.

This is actually where I started thinking about free will. The Hårga are a community bound by tradition. Their lives are to be a predetermined length, and within this, their lives are divided up into four ‘seasons’ of equal length. At the end of the winter of their lives, the period spanning 54 years old to 72 years old, you are expected to walk (literally) willingly, and freely, to your death. This is exactly what the two elderly members I just mentioned do. They are carried on sedan chairs to the top of a cliff, and then throw themselves to their deaths. Whilst I must be careful of cultural imperialism, I couldn’t help but wonder how much agency the Hårga have. Is this suicide an expression of free-will or an example of coercion driven by traditional practice? We can only speculate, but I wonder what would happen if someone refused to die at the predetermined age. This really cemented to me that the Hårga are not a peaceful community living in a psychedelic Swedish plane, but are in actuality, uncomfortably close to eco-fascism.

According to eco-fascist ideology, you’re expected to sacrifice your life in order that the group more generally can protect the interests of nature more broadly. This goes some way as to explain why the elderly members of the community, who are statistically more likely to be suffering from disease, ill-health or infirmity, are coerced to take their own lives. They have fulfilled their purpose, and they are invited? forced? to remove themselves from society. This is, of course, a society that is absolutely, entirely white. The only non-white bodies in the community are those of Josh, Simon and Connie – and these people end up dead, murdered in increasingly disturbing ways. Josh is killed whilst trying to take pictures of the Rubi Radr (the sacred text of the Hårga) – something he was explicitly forbidden to do – and his body is dragged away by a member of the Hårga who is wearing Mark’s skinned face as a mask. Connie and Simon both disappear at different points in the story, and both turn up dead. Simon is executed in a particularly graphic way – he is suspended in the chicken coop, as a blood eagle. The blood eagle is a form of ritualistic murder detailed in the Germanic and Nordic sagas, wherein the ribs are broken and the lungs are pulled out of the body, in such a way so that they look like ‘wings’. Simon’s lungs seem to inflate and deflate, as if they were breathing, but we cannot be sure whether he is still alive, or whether this is caused by Christian’s drug-addled brain.

This is where the film becomes uncomfortable for me. Connie and Simon are … very minor characters in this film. They don’t really serve any purpose other than to be tormented, murdered, sacrificed. They do not really interact with the main protagonists (Christian, Dani, Josh, Mark), other than a few pleasantries at the beginning, a shared horror at the suicide of the elders, and a very brief interaction between Connie and Dani when Connie discovers that Simon has ‘left the commune without her’. I am uncomfortable with calling Midsommar an explicitly feminist film as I believe the treatment of Connie, a sidelined, innocent, brown woman, who is brutally killed for no apparent reason other than her status as Other violates any claim the film might otherwise have as being explicitly feminist. But maybe this isn’t the point. I don’t think Midsommar has to be ‘explicitly feminist’ in order to make very valid points about how a very specific kind of female pain, grief and trauma is often ignored and overlooked. Connie’s body violates the very specific white ableness championed by the Hårga, and her experience as Other legitimizes her death. Dani’s body, a white body that does not violate any of their traditions, is permitted to live. She is permitted to access the underbelly of the commune, but this comes at a price, and I believe that price is a combination of her sanity, her sense of self, and any remaining link she had to her past.

That’s what I think Florence Pugh was so unbelievably good at depicting. I was absolutely blown away by her ability to howl like that. That sort of primal, unabashed screaming. I think the two times she -really- cries set up a really interesting dichotomy between female pain and male reactions to female pain. The first time that Dani really howls is when her parents and sister have died. It is dark, she starts this sort of crying whilst alone over the phone, and then Christian is with her but he feels entirely distant from her. The room is dark, he is rubbing her back and she is draped over him, but he feels entirely emotionally removed from the situation - he is not participating in her grief, he doesn’t look that affected by it. His presence makes the scene feel just that little bit more jarring. Actually, does he even say anything to her? As far as I remember, no he does not. She tells him they’ve died, we see a shot of him walking through the snow to her apartment, and then they’re in the apartment. He says nothing. The only noise is Dani’s screams. He is entirely silent. Compare this to the second time she howls, when she’s surrounded by the female members of the Hårga. This scene is entirely different. It’s light, and she’s surrounded by women who are touching her, caressing her, but most importantly, screaming with her. They howl and cry and scream with her. They are her perfect mirrors. They are ACTIVELY PARTICIPATING in her grief, they share in her trauma. This was probably the most harrowing shot of the entire film for me. Not the gore, not the mutilated bodies – but a woman, screaming and howling like a wounded animal, and having a horde of sympathetic women scream back at her. It’s hard to not feel drawn into this community. It’s hard to not forget the evil things they have done, or are willing to do. That is precisely what is so dangerous about the Hårga, or more generally, this very specific brand of eco-fascism.

Some quick fire symbolism stuff that I picked up on:

the symbolism of Christian wearing dark clothing and standing away from the rest of the group when they were celebrating Dani becoming the May Queen. The way he lurches around, looking entirely out of place - she is sat at the head of the table - dressed as they are, crowned with flowers, nature moves with her - she has basically entirely assimilated - he is still outcast.

I thought it was really interesting that the group of women during the dub-con Christian/Maya sex scene mirrored how Maya was feeling. I think the focus on women mirroring each other, appropriating and absorbing how each other is feeling is a fascinating detail. Christian, on the other hand, looks out of place in that room, a male body who only has one purpose and then is entirely redundant. This is reinforced by the bit where the girl he is sleeping with holds her hand out and he tries to grab it but instead one of the women grabs it. He basically serves no purpose beyond impregnating her - and even then he isn’t even that good at it, because one of the other women has to push on his butt to push him along in the process. Women as being the most active and present in sex, men just … seed? Is this a subversion of how sex is usually seen?

The disabled boy seems to serve no purpose in society other than being the oracle - he does not participate in the banquet or any of the celebrations. He is almost never on screen, apart from a few very close up shots of his face, and one occasion where the camera shifts to him from the sex scene - a very jarring decision, in my opinion. Panning to him during the sex scene was super interesting and really not expected. It was an interesting visual choice, and it made me think about whether the point was to emphasise how he will presumably never participate in sexual acts etc. because of the eugenics practiced by the Hårga. This was a pretty damning condemnation of the Hårga as an eco-fascist group who actively engages in eugenics/”selective breeding”. You can definitely see links here between the growth of fascism and eugenics in the early 20th century and the practices of the Hårga.

I really liked how the entire time they were at the commune almost felt like … a fever dream in a distant fairytale land. Walking through the large sun at the beginning, having to trek through the fields to get there, everything looking very idyllic and exactly how a young child would imagine a Swedish landscape to look. The perfect environment to discuss dissociation, in my opinion.

These are some scattered thoughts I had after viewing the film!!

Overall, I really enjoyed it, despite some of the troubling social themes, and it’s another absolute win for Aster in my book.

#midsommar #midsommar spoilers #tee hee i posted it early #i have so many more thoughts but this is already nearly 2k words so i didn't want to post something obscenely long

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sstudysis · 5 years

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8 things I wish I knew before starting High School

Hi, study family! I just compiled a short list of things I wish I would've known before starting high school as a favor for a teacher friend. Feel free to share with students who are entering high school. These points are just based on my personal experience and should be taken into context.

We've heard the term, "high school will fly by." As an upcoming sophomore in college, I am here to say this is true but, with a little more guidance you may want to savor it. This article is not about surface deep, "how to deal with peer pressure guidance," (which can be valuable) this is about the real-life problems a young-adult may face in their high school career. My advice (though very real) may not apply to everyone, but figure out what could resonate with you and run with it.

Your peers care more about themselves than about you.

High school is an entirely new social terrain, and for obvious reasons, you’d want to fit in. This can be both positive and negative. Firstly, try to remain true to yourself (even if you’re not entirely sure who you are yet) we all have this little thing called intuition; follow it. A lot of thoughts will be running through your mind, “will they like me?”, “do I look right?”, And the list goes on. The funny thing about these thoughts is that everyone you're surrounded by have them meaning most people care a lot more about how they look than how you look. Try not to get too bent out of shape about what others may fleetingly think about you before they focus back on themselves.

2. Remember the long-term

It’s straightforward to see four years as a long time, in retrospect it’s not. A high school will be so packed with student events, projects, dances, studying, working, and so much more so the time will fly by. I wish someone would’ve told me my first day of 9th grade that what the choices I make in these short four years will be integral to my future (Llaneza tried). Going into high school with that wisdom would’ve made some of my choices look a lot different. For example, I would’ve worked just a little harder in every area of my studies, I maybe would’ve skipped a few of the Friday night parties for some more studying, and I would’ve given up short term satisfaction to be able to apply myself for the long haul. Of course, it’s a balancing act, and both short-term and long-term successes can be beneficial but, high school should be focused on building a strong foundation for your success later in life whatsoever you choose that to be.

3. Grades are crucial, but they don’t always determine your future success.

To disclaim getting high grades in high school should be your first goal. It doesn’t matter if you want to be an electrician, a physician, or an entrepreneur, grades matter. From an authentic perspective and a very average student, I understand if you think grades are arbitrary measures of intelligence because I agree. However, because you are so smart, you should also realize that to have more choice in your life later, just get high marks. In contrast, if you want to be a successful person don’t let the occasional ‘C’ stop you. Your first low grade won’t completely derail your future, it doesn’t mean you're any less smart than your peers, and it shouldn’t be seen as a reflection of your worth. A low grade can stem from a lot of reasons, and it’s what you do after that determines who you are. Never give up hope, if you believe that you are meant to be successful than take the necessary steps, and see your pitfalls as character-building experiences, not life determinants. There is always a way to level-up.

4. If you are a person of color, expect to work twice as hard and get half as far.

Okay time for some somber truth, if you are a young person of color you won’t always be equal in your academic spaces. The inequality in academia has less to do with you and more to do with how power and privilege work in every sector of your life. Depending on where you go to school some kids may have been privileged to have private tutors, a stronger formative education, parents who are heavily invested in their child's academic success (monetarily as well), and more, though unfair it’s life. If I would’ve been consciously aware of this during my high school career I think would’ve felt less stigmatized about lower standardized test scores. If you go to high school in a more impoverished area, expect to supplement your education. Unfortunately, a lot of black and poc inner city schools are neglected and disadvantaged. So don’t be surprised if you have to put in more outside leg work (i.e., learning algebra from khan academy), just to be equal with your privileged counterparts. More, unfortunately, don’t be surprised if this extra leg-work goes unnoticed. This is a grossly unfair fact of life but remembers “when they go low, we go high” (Michelle Obamas).

5. “Comparison is the thief of joy.”

It may seem like the girl or boy you’re comparing yourself to in 5th period has everything together and the truth is they probably don’t, and that’s okay. Comparison is a tricky thing because a lot of it is based on assumption, “that girl/boy makes everything look easy”, well this is just what you’ve assumed when that girl/boy, in fact, could be thinking, “why is this so hard I wish I could just be like ____”, so don’t assume how someone is doing. Try to remember that you are so incomparable to someone else because you have a completely different story. Also be conscious that the way you define success may look different from someone else, set your metrics for success. I’m aware that this may be a lifelong struggle, but hopefully, in your high school years, you can figure out what makes you unique and be grateful for that.

6. Try to be in balance.

It’s majorly important to prioritize other areas of your life besides school and to be frank sacrificing other areas of life to perform better in school is not sustainable in the long term. Although sometimes with work and different expectations, it feels you have to run like a machine but your not, and you need to recharge. Having a healthy, social life, sleep schedule, and physical health is just as important as having time to study and do work. Don’t feel sorry for having to take a day off self-care is vital, don’t be afraid to set boundaries. I’m also acutely aware that the prospect of getting 8 hours of sleep, working out, going out with friends, AND trying to do well in school is kind of a dream but, we gotta keep striving.

7. “Your move.”

I wish someone would’ve said sooner, “Crystal take some darn responsibility.” High school may be the most independent point of your life so far. It is the beginning of redefining who you are at times, separate from familial trends. It is a pivotal time in your life where more and more of the decisions you make will be up to you. Try to take responsibility for the consequences and success that come from the choices you make. For more or less you are choosing what your life will look like after you graduate (a scary prospect for a 14 or so year old). High school is also formulated to be a rather low risk so don’t be afraid to make mistakes but also realize that from here on out it’s up to you to decide who you are. However, please don’t let your success in high school become your identity because many factors will challenge that and you don’t want to be always vulnerable to any changes in performance.

8. Peer Pressure

I’m sure you’ve already received a lot of advice on how to deal with peer pressures. Therefore, I won’t say too much just don’t allow yourself to be put in a box. Due to cliques, and other groups it’s easy to understand your high school social class but, allow for contradiction. As separate individuals, we are genuinely never one thing don’t allow yourself to be trapped into the idea of what you are or what you should be. Just be, and your tribe will find you. In my high school experience I sometimes would be with the “honor” students, I sometimes would be with the sports kids, or the chess kids, or the debate kids, and I learned so much more about who I actually was rather than to just assume the position of what I was told I should be. This will allow you to be open minded and gain different challenging perspective.

Remember, the most important thing is to be young while you can. Try not to take yourself too seriously too soon. High school is the perfect arena for failing, learning, and growing at the end of the day do what makes you feel most effective.

#study #study motivation #studyspiration #studyspo #high school #tips #studytips #advice #list

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coruscato · 5 years

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;; BIO [ JARON ]

NAME: Jaron Artolius Eckbert III of the house of Artolius TITLE: King of Carthya, His Majesty PSEUDONYM: Sage AGE -- ( Timeline ( x. ) ) 14 - The False Prince, The Runaway King 15 - The Runaway King, The Shadow Throne 16+ - After the books BIRTHDAY: May 7th ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus ORIENTATION: Bisexual GENDER: Male PRONOUNS: he/him HEIGHT: 5′6″ MBTI TYPE: ENFP - A

PERSONALITY --

With the devils hot on his heels, it’s a wonder Jaron’s had the luck he’s had--maybe the saints are looking out for him after all.

While luck might account for some of his near death escapes, his own cleverness and determination can’t be ignored. With a strong willpower and courage in the face of fear, the King of Carthya might be impulsive and leap before he looks, but as with most things, he tends to land on his feet--much to the shock of his friends, foes, and mostly himself.

Observant and flexible, Jaron takes all that life throws at him and bends the circumstances to his will--remarking to most that he happens to be a serial truth teller, people are just keen on misunderstanding him due to their own biases and prejudice towards him.

His sense of compassion marks him as a true leader. Those who serve him know the interests of the people and those around him are first on his heart--and those that know him wish he’d, just once, reverse the order. In the face of turmoil, his protectiveness can be a dangerous risk--his enemies also realizing the lengths he’d go for those he cares about and holding that against him.

With a heart of gold and a self sacrificing nature, it’s no wonder that the citizens of his country would follow him into the devil’s lair and back. While he was once the mischievous prince who’s antics filled the court gossip, he has certainly grown into a leader his family and those around him would be proud of.

MENTALITY --

“What doesn’t kill me better run because now I’m angry.” ~Unknown

“The greatest slave in a kingdom is generally the king of it.” ~Fulke Greville

“Victory goes to the player who makes the next-to-last mistake.” ~Savielly G. Tartakower

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE --

Smaller than most boys his age, with an average--yet solid--build, Jaron never thought he was quite impressive for a royal appearance-wise. He has light brown hair that curls at the sides thanks to his mother and bright green eyes always shining with determination and passion--unlike the arrogance and mischievousness the castle painters always gave him.

He might not have the body a king might be expected to have due to his scarring over the years--two scars at Farthenwood, the one on his arm from Roden, the pirate’s branding, and cuts and bruises from other times his mouth or title got him into trouble--and although he might be too skinny for someone who “literally gets the king’s feast every night,” it isn’t the body that makes a king.

As Kippenger told him at the end of The Shadow Throne, it’s the heart that makes a true royal; they could take everything else away and he’d still be who he had become, not only by birth, but by his own will: The Ascendant King.

HEALTH --

After The Shadow Throne, Jaron noticeably suffers from PTSD, liking to keep those he cares about close to him at all times if possible. From Latamer’s death to his time at Farthenwood itself to the pirates and the war, the devils have not been kind to him. Lack of sleep and loss of appetite still plague him even in this time of peace, but for those that care about him, he forces himself to look after his own needs. People count on him, he needs to be there.

And that’s a lot of pressure for a teenager to have.

Though his life is steadily returning to normalcy, there’s still a sense that he’s on edge, waiting for something else to happen. Things have never necessarily been quiet in his life, but thankfully, he has people around him--Harlowe, Mott, and Imogen to name a few--that can ground him in the moment and call him out on his antics.

MISC --

tba.

HISTORY --

[[ SPOILERS ]]

Born to King Eckbert and Queen Erin and the younger brother to Crown Prince Darius, Jaron was allowed the freedom to be a kid up until his father sent him away to a school in Bymar and the fateful pirate attack that failed to claim his life. After Father Fontelaine, on suspicion that the boy at the church was Jaron himself, sent word to the prince’s older brother who happened to be looking for any sign of his life in a nearby town, the king visited his son one last time.

He couldn’t come home.

The other kingdoms knew of his death and withdrew their forces to give the royal family a time of mourning. If he were to come back, his father would have to address the attack and the consequences of that would be dire for their country.

Spending the next four years in orphanages, finding that he had a knack for blending in amongst native Avenians, Jaron became Sage, forgetting the prince. So when a nobleman by the name of Bevin Conner came searching for a puppet prince that might fool the regents, things got very bad very quick.

He knew he had to return to the life he never wanted or die. With secrets revealed overtime, he had to keep his cards close to his chest if he was to overcome and outlast Conner.

He had to.

For Carthya.

#ooc #set up post #; in my darkest hour hope kissed my cheek ; jaron

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hannahindie · 6 years

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The Wedding Singer - Track 6

“Tainted Love”

Characters: Dean, Reader, Jo (brief), Chuck (brief), a somewhat uncomfortable bride and groom

Word Count: 2,003 (including lyrics)

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, Mentions of Infidelity, Alcohol

A/N: This is the sixth chapter of an AU SPN Series co-written by myself and @pinknerdpanda entitled The Wedding Singer and is inspired by the movie. We have been working on this for the last few months and are very excited to share it with you. The series tag list is open. If you would like to be added, please send one of us an ask. I made the 80s inspired aesthetic and the series was Masterbeta’d by @wheresthekillswitch.

As usual, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Track List:

Track 1: “You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) by: @pinknerdpanda

Track 2: “White Wedding” @hannahindie

Track 3: “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?”by: @pinknerdpanda

Track 4: “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic”@hannahindie

Track 5: “Love Stinks”@pinknerdpanda

Track 6: “Tainted Love”

Sometimes I feel I've got to Run away I've got to Get away from the pain that you drive into the heart of me The love we share Seems to go nowhere And I've lost my light For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

Once I ran to you (I ran) Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not nearly all Oh tainted love Tainted love

Every single person at the reception was watching Dean in shock as he slurred his way through “Tainted Love”. Even the band had quit playing, although Dean had apparently decided he didn’t need a band to sing this particular song. He stopped after the second verse and took a swig out of the beer bottle he had clutched loosely in one hand, then gripped the mic stand tightly with the other. His bloodshot eyes scanned the room, squinting against the stage lights, as if looking for someone.

His eyes widened as he spotted the newly married couple, “There you are! S’wonderin’ where ya got off to. Anyway, lemme just say a few words.” Chuck was quietly shaking his head at Dean, willing him to stop talking, but Dean pulled the mic off the stand, stumbled to the edge of the stage, and pointed at them with the hand still holding the beer bottle. “You got married today! Ain’t that just a dream come true? I was going to live that dream week before last, but I guess it's not always meant to be. It certainly wasn't for me, because I was engaged to a self centered, raging bitch, but Jeff, looks like you're a lucky guy. At least Sheila...Sheila right? Sheila showed up! That's the first half of the fuckin’ battle and she nailed it!”

The room was dead silent as Dean took another swig of beer. Chuck was nervously looking around the crowd for Jo, afraid to interrupt but knowing someone probably should. Before he could make a move, Dean continued, “Listen, folks, these two married because they loved...well, love...each other. And that's just….it's a beautiful thing.” He groaned as he flopped himself down on the edge of the stage, his legs dangling over the side, “But see, ya need to unner...understand somethin’. It's only beautiful for s’long. Sure, sure, it's great now. Look at ‘em, all happy and shit,” he waved vaguely in their direction, “but it'll just...jus’ fizzle out. And there won't be a warning either Jared...Jeff. She’ll jus’ get tired of ya. S’dont bother sacrificing your career or something you love for her, ‘cause eventually that won't even be enough.”

Chuck finally caught Jo’s attention, who hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed Y/N by the arm, “You need to get him off that stage right now!”

Y/N looked up from the cookies she was putting the finishing touches on, confused, “What? What's going on?”

“Dean is shit faced drunk and he's decided to give them a nice little reception speech. Only it's terrible and everyone is mortified, but no one knows what to do. You need to go out there and get him outside or something.”

Y/N tossed the icing bag down and wiped her hands off on her apron, “Why do I need to do it? Dean and I barely know each other!”

Jo rolled her eyes, “You handled it well last time. Sam told me how you got him home. Just...handle it. Please?” Jo looked at her with begging eyes and Y/N sighed.

“Fine, but...you owe me.” Y/N took her apron off and hung it up, then hurried into the reception hall in time to hear Dean finish up his ‘speech’.

“Anyway, the moral of this story is: love stinks. Good fuckin’ luck!” He dropped the mic onto the stage and high pitched feedback echoed through the room. He slid clumsily off the stage and stumbled towards the kitchen, but Y/N intercepted him before he got too far.

“Whoa there, Dean, where ya going? Why don't we go outside?” He squinted at her then nodded, and turned back the other direction. She gently pushed him towards the exit, and when she caught Chuck’s eye, he mouthed a silent thank you. She nodded and smiled grimly, and wondered how she'd managed to get herself involved in this.

Dean sat on the steps, his hands dangling between his knees and his head down. Y/N stood off to the side, unsure of what to do. What she wanted to do was sit down next to him and comfort him as much as she could, but the bright glint of her engagement ring in the setting sun reminded her that whatever it was she felt for Dean, she needed to leave it alone.

Until he looked up at her.

She had never seen such sadness or disappointment in someone’s eyes. He looked tired and broken, his eyes bloodshot and shining from the unshed tears that were trapped there. This was a completely different Dean than the one she'd sat next to on these same steps three weeks ago. Her heart broke as she looked back at him, and he ran a weary hand across the five o’clock shadow currently gracing his chiseled jaw.

“I'm an idiot.” Whatever had kept her standing was suddenly forgotten, and she tucked her legs under her as she sat next to him.

“Dean, you are not an idiot. You're heartbroken and angry, but you aren't an idiot. No one is going to blame you for having a slight...breakdown.”

Dean laughed bitterly, “Slight? I just ruined their reception. I jus’...I dunno. I don't want anyone else to feel like this, ya know? It sucks. How d’ya know when to trust someone?”

Y/N shrugged, “I guess you can't really know, not for sure. You just have to have faith in people. It doesn't always work out, and you're going to get hurt...but sometimes you find that one person that makes the risk worth it.”

Dean had been staring at his hands, but he turned to look at her, and his eyes locked with hers. Suddenly, it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe. His eyes were so green, like moss in a sun dappled meadow. His gaze shifted to her lips and for a brief moment it occurred to her what he was about to do, and that she should move.

Then, his lips were on hers and she completely forgot about what was right and what was wrong. She forgot about the ring on her finger. All she cared about in that moment was how his lips molded perfectly with hers, and the electricity that seemed to pass between them when he grazed her bottom lip with his tongue. She felt his hand land softly on her hip and she moaned into him, her fingers grasping at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. For a brief, wonderful moment, she remembered what it felt like to want to kiss someone so long and deep that you nearly became one person. She remembered what it should feel like when two people in love kissed; desperate, and full of fire and fear of letting the other one go.

And as soon as it started, it was over. Y/N pulled back with a gasp, and stared at Dean with wide eyes.

“Oh...Jesus...Y/N, I'm sorry…”

Y/N stood so quickly she nearly toppled over, “I...I have to go!” She threw the door open and swiftly disappeared inside.

“Y/N! Dammit!” Dean punched the ground, then swore under his breath at how much it hurt. He pulled his phone from his pocket, stared at his contacts list for a moment, then finally selected the name he'd been dreading to call. “Yea...hey, Sammy? I'm not doing so great, can you come get me? ...Yea, there's a wedding. I think Chuck will need to finish it for me. I...uh...I messed up. No, not just that. I really messed up, man. Just come get me.” Dean hung up and rested his elbows on his knees, his head in both hands.

This was one mistake he wasn't sure he'd be able to fix.

Y/N stumbled into the kitchen, barely holding it together as she turned the corner and leaned against the wall. It had been bad enough that Dean had kissed her, but she had enjoyed it. She had kissed him back, and it was the first time she had felt that alive in so, so long. She thought back to when she’d seen Ketch the day Sam had dropped her off, and it hadn’t even compared to the few seconds with Dean. The weight of what had just happened hit her and the tears came, large, silent drops that rolled down her cheeks. She heard the door open and hurriedly tried to wipe them away, but Jo turned the corner faster than Y/N had anticipated and caught her in the act.

“Oh my God, Y/N, what happened?!” She dropped the plates she was carrying roughly in the sink, ignoring the loud clattering they made as they shifted and nearly toppled out into the floor, and grabbed Y/N’s hands. “Where’s Dean?”

Y/N shook her head, “I don’t know...I mean, he was outside, but I...I don’t know where he is now. Jo...I’m an idiot.”

Jo smiled gently and used her thumb to wipe away a tear rolling down Y/N’s cheek, “Sweetie, we’re all idiots sometimes. What exactly happened to make you feel like that?”

Y/N took a deep breath, “Dean kissed me.”

Jo’s gentle smile turned into a hard frown, her brows furrowed, “That fucking dumbass, I’m going to kill him-”

“I kissed him back, Jo.” Jo’s mouth hung open, still in mid-sentence. She snapped it shut and looked at Y/N with wide eyes.

“You did what? Please tell me I heard you incorrectly.”

“No...I mean, you heard right, I did...I kissed him back. And it was...it was incredible. What is wrong with me?! I love Ketch, I love him more than anything, but we haven’t kissed like that in...shit, months. It’s been months. And then I looked at Dean and he did it so fast, and...God, it felt so right. I remembered what it was supposed to feel like, but...this was a huge mistake. What am I supposed to do?”

Jo gave Y/N’s arm a gentle squeeze, “Listen, Dean was drunk. I’m sure that he wouldn’t have done that sober.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel good, don’t you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jo sighed. “Dean wasn’t thinking clearly. He knows you’re engaged. That’s not how he would normally act, and I am sure that when he sobers up, he’s going to feel awful about it. He’s in a bad place right now, and you’ve been nice to him. He was just confused. Just...give him some space, alright?” She patted Y/N on the shoulder, then walked back towards the reception hall. Y/N moved over to the sink to start working on the dishes that Jo had just left, and Jo paused in the doorway.

“And Y/N?” She asked as she looked at Y/N over her shoulder, “If you felt like that about Dean’s kiss, even when you haven’t known him that long, and you have even a single doubt in your mind about Ketch...you might want to reconsider that ring on your finger.” She left the room and Y/N watched after her, her mind racing with the observation Jo had just made.

Things had just gotten more complicated than she would have ever thought they would when she first moved here.

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? My Masterlist is here and the lovely @pinknerdpanda can be found here. Thanks for reading! :)

The Wedding Singer - Series Tags: @nanie5 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tiffanycaruso @faegal04 @bethbabybaby @aesthsuggestion @escabell @lavieenlex @letmusicguideu @charliebradbury1104 @ericaprice2008 @kathaswings @feelmyroarrrr @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @journeyrose @kudosia @spnfangirl1965 @pickupthatamulet @faithfullpanicmoon @castianityislife02 @hexparker @squirrel-moose-winchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-babydoll @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx @atc74 @mrsbateshotel53 @easelweasel @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @thelittleredwhocould @jotink78 @amanda-teaches @ilsawasanacrobat @squirrel-moose-winchester @mjdoc90

Dean Only: @akshi8278 @lavieenlex @valkyrieslament @highonpastries

#The Wedding Singer Series #Dean Winchester au #supernatural au #dean x reader #reader insert #angst #HanPan Strikes Again

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ajordanart-blog · 6 years

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Blog #3: Avoiding Burn-Out

So with the new month coming in, I felt like this was the perfect time to talk about scheduling. Here is what my schedule looks like for October. And this is exactly how your planner should NOT look when you are trying to pace yourself. Everything on my calendar above, with the exception of about 2 things, are all school related deadlines. (SOS!) It’s a little hard to read. (Hello, I am left handed and have always had horrendous handwriting.) But it’s honestly not important that you know what my deadlines are, as much as you can see that my schedule is full before the month has even started. There are a few things not included on my planner right now, including class times and days needed to commute long-distance back home for important events, to pick up supplies for my rabbit, or squeeze in health care appointments with my doctors. I truthfully only have about two or three true free days this month, and it’s just unrealistic, especially if you suffer from chronic pain, to have only 6-9% of your month available to try to pace yourself through deadlines OR recover from spending time and energy running around getting stuff done. Ideally, I feel that anyone should try to have 25% or more of the month available as “free time” if they can get it, and then spend that how they wish. I personally couldn’t adjust my October schedule to free up my time more because I didn’t have much of an option this semester as to whether or not I took 5 classes, and this was the outline given to me based on how they all overlapped. But generally speaking, if you can ever even remotely help it, NEVER do this to yourself. Chronically ill or not, it’s just a bad idea. I’m supposed to have easier weeks in November, and I’m so stubborn that I’ll make sure to hang in until then, but I’m already facing hardcore burnout because last week mimicked this pattern, and I failed to sleep for two nights entirely while trying to compensate for some heavy deadlines. I know better than to do this to myself. Stress and fatigue are huge triggers for my pain even when I am resting enough, so I’m actually in bed trying to recover from a particularly bad flare-up on my only day at home right now. I’m struggling to get even my easier assignments done because of this, and I have no idea when the pain will truly calm down now that I’ve pushed it into flaring up worse than it would have otherwise because I’ll be stuck in situations that force me to push my body more than I’m comfortable with throughout the rest of the week. That was definitely a risk I was aware of when I stayed up late literally cranking out prints the studio, and boy am I paying for it. I’m making a point to write about this because I’m not perfect at accommodating for my health. No one is. We all mess up, under-estimate our limits, and push ourselves too hard every now and then. But it is so important not to make a habit of doing it or to let others in your life expect it out of you. The fast-paced society we currently live in does not accommodate well for the recovery of people with chronic illness, but it also doesn’t accommodate well for the recovery of the average person. It sucks! We all need to rest, we’re supposed to be spending at minimum 56 hours a week just sleeping, and we often run into situations where it feels like no one wants to let us. But rest is so important for your daily productivity. And the only person who can make sure that you’re taking care of your body is you. It is your job to push back and set boundaries regarding your schedule and your health, even if it means making some difficult sacrifices. Because trust me, sacrificing your health long-term is never worth it. If you can ever help it, do NOT overload yourself. Everyone is susceptible to burnout and everyone deserves to pace themselves. There are actually many ways to ensure that you pace yourself and avoid an overloaded schedule, so I want to delve into that!

#1: Keep a detailed planner. I feel like this goes without saying, but at the start of the school year (if applicable) and again at the start of the month, write all of your deadlines down. Write down the things you personally need to get done within a time frame. Focus on unmovable deadlines first and foremost, and add anything else afterward. It helps to visually see what you have going on to better plan to accommodate for your health. #2: Leave several open spaces. Count your unscheduled days. You want to leave as many empty spaces as you can. These open spaces are not necessarily free days. Life happens! You want buffer and you want to see a lot of it. These days are here so you can schedule other things that come up throughout the month without having to panic and push off your original deadlines repeatedly or squeeze in work where it doesn’t fit at the detriment of your health. These “free spaces” are there to make sure you’re working on your deadlines prior to their due date. This applies to schedules that don’t involve school as well. Empty days, or even half days, are there so you can plan to pace yourself. They’re there so you can make doctor’s appointments, take your dog to the vet, renew your license, plan for errands and chores, etc. Whenever possible, it’s important to give yourself breathing room. Some months definitely are more hectic than others, and it can be hard to find space (such as in my October schedule) but every new month is a new opportunity to practice pacing yourself realistically. If you fail and are overloaded one month, you can make a point to try something different the next month to help you understand what balance is best for your time, your energy, and your body.

#3: Schedule time for yourself daily. Everyone needs a self-care routine. That is just a fact. Put self care directly into your planner. Do not sacrifice it. We need to acknowledge self-care daily to stay healthy, functional, and productive. Which means making healthy meals and rest a priority. At the very least, have a night routine. Give yourself a bed time. For the most part, I have been very adamant this semester about making sure I’m winding down and in bed somewhere around 10pm-12am every night. I’m trying my best to rarely stay up late to complete assignments and to schedule time to work on them during the day and, unfortunately, on weekends. This way I can guarantee that I rest for 8-10 hours. I’ve been fairly strict about avoiding being under-slept, with the exception of last week. Sleep is so important for maintaining a healthy schedule. If you’re not resting adequately every night, any schedule will be difficult to maintain and daily productivity is sacrificed. And for me, being under-rested on any given day encourages my body to feel sick and flare-up more frequently, so resting well regularly consistently keeps my pain levels a little more consistent too, and better preps me to be able to accommodate for unexpected issues concerning my health. #4: Schedule Fun Pick one day a week to have entirely off if you can help it. Again, it is so important to make sure you have time for rest or to let yourself just have fun. I have intentionally cut out commuting home on certain weekends and have cut back to only doing seasonal employment when I’m taking a full load of classes because my body truthfully cannot balance work and school. My current class schedule is 30hrs a week on campus Monday-Friday. I don’t get home until 6pm most night. Homework afterward can take anywhere from 10-20 hours a week extra. I’ve been having to merge recovery time with homework lately by purchasing a lap desk and doing digital assignments in bed. My job was taking another 20 hours away from my week, mostly on my weekends, so I had to make an extremely tough financial decision, and cut out work while I’m trying to graduate and find other ways to compensate for that loss so I can take care of my health. I need make sure i have at least a single evening at the end of the week to let my brain and body rest. Sometimes my free night may be spent doing something fun if I have the energy to go out, or i’ll use it to spending the night in with a friend. More often lately I spend it with myself by having a lazy netflix and chore night indoors. Occasionally, I do have to sacrifice my scheduled nights to my deadlines, but no one’s body is meant to go all the time, and it’s important to try to be persistent in making time for yourself. #4: Learn to say NO. Tiny requests can easily overtake our schedules if we’re not careful. What seems like a small favor at the time can stack up into multiple tiny favors and become detrimental to our time and energy. We don’t need to say yes to every little thing someone asks of us. I like to help people and engage with others, so this is an extremely difficult tip for me, but when your schedule is getting too tight, let yourself feel validated in saying no to extra work. For me this unfortunately includes commission work as well. I’m trying to start a business doing pet portraiture after I graduate, and I’ve been having to decline requests for work that I really enjoy and would benefit greatly from having because it just isn’t healthy for me to try to fit it in right now. You also don’t always need to give a reason to say “no” to extra work if you’re uncomfortable with it. Especially at jobs with shifts. If you’re not scheduled, all you have to do is say “sorry, i’m not available” and the request will move onto someone else. It’s okay to say yes occasionally, but don’t let others rely on you to the point that they expect you to say yes before you’ve ever given an answer. Set up boundaries regarding your health, your time, and your schedule. It is not unreasonable to expect others, especially employers, to respect them.

#5: Plan to be sick. This might be more applicable to those who experience chronic illness, mental or physical, but if you can, schedule more time than you need to finish a task, project, or assignment. Give yourself sick days. This is another one of those “life happens” situations. But say you have a deadline coming up, and you think it will take you two weeks to get it done. Plan for it to take you a full three weeks. If it takes less time, great! If you actually do have a health-related obstacle, or truly any kind of obstacle, you have a little bit of buffer to accommodate! That’s about all I have! If I discover more helpful techniques for curbing burn-out, I’ll definitely make sure to share! I understand everyone has different schedule needs, different energy levels, and different financial limitations that make avoiding burnout quite difficult. But these honestly have been the most important and useful tips for me over the past several months in getting my health and schedule better under control in a way that I can manage and push through. Like I said in a previous post, I’m a work-a-holic, and it is actually very easy for me to over-estimate my abilities, even after several months of having to constantly learn to pull back and reduce my workload. I definitely plan to utilize these strategies better next month, especially since I have thanksgiving break to take advantage of, and fewer overlapping deadlines. I plan to rest and recover a lot more than I am giving myself time for right now. To everyone else, hang in there! You’ve got this, and you’ll figure out some of your own tips and tricks to better pace yourself with your own obstacles. In the mean time, stay resilient! 💕

#avoiding burnout #burnout #over worked #chronic illness #chronic pain #scheduling #planner tips #accommodation #resilient

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years

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SPN 4x21: “When the Levee Breaks”

Better go find a nearby cliff to jump off of after I finish watching this episode.

Red light on Sam v white light on Dean. Nice.

This is denial at it’s finest.

(Very irrelevant question here, but how did they make it so Sam couldn’t just open the door from the inside?)

Sam completely forgot that the panic room could ward off ghosts, hence this wouldn’t be possible...

Part 1: Alastair.

I’m not meta-intelligent enough to figure out why he would appear as one of Sam’s hallucinations.

Bobby!! omg, I missed him so much.

“Suck dirt and die, Rufus.” lmao

Rufus probably telling Bobby to check out the news.

Part 2: Younger Sammy

Facing your younger self after becoming something you never wanted to be is very difficult.

If I had to face Younger Me, I’d be afraid of it going about as “well” as this.

Seals are breaking left and right.

“Where the hell are your angel pals?” More like angle “pal”...well actually, it’d still be plural because of Cas *and* Anna.

Bobby suggesting they let Sam use his powers to stop Lilith, oh dear.

“I love that boy like a son. All I’m saying is maybe he’s here right now instead of on the battlefield because we love him too much.” *cries*

Sam is really going through it.

Part 3: Mary.

So she’s the “if she did a terrible/shady decision, in the name of saving a loved one, so can I.” part of Sam.

I h i g h l y doubt real!Mary would react like this??

Sam is just feeding himself lies, good lord.

(Sam’s interpretation of Mary always somehow leans to “you’re my favorite son, not Dean.”)

Dean and Cas time?

Dean and Cas time!!!

He’d been praying for 2 and a half hours!! And it shows, good lord his voice is hoarse.

“Well, nothing of import.” lmao. I gotta start saying that.

There’s an urgency in Cas’ “I can’t”, and it's the most genuine he’s been so far.

“Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever. Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill.” g o d n o.

“There’s no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean.” I’m just now noticing how...lowkey manipulative that sounds. Cas is playing Dean’s biggest card: protecting Sam.

“We believe it’s you, Dean, not your brother.”

“You are the one who will stop it.”

(I’ve seen too many movies/read too many stories to know if someone is told that they’re the “only one”, it’s most likely bull.)

Dean willing to bear the full responsibility of preventing the Apocalypse just so Sam can be protected.

“God, you’re a dick these days.” “these days” So in the past days, he was getting better?

Cas looks like he’s screaming internally at Dean to NOT DO THIS.

The camera stays on Cas and Dean just...looking at each other for 11 seconds. I fucking counted it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you willingly signed up to be the angels’ bitch? I’m sorry. You prefer ‘sucker’?” lmao I love Bobby.

“Shady politicians from planet Vulcan.” That’s actually a great description of most angels (minus Cas, of course.)

0 to 100 real fucking quick.

Dean being so affected by seeing Sam in pain, that he zoned out and Bobby had to snap him out of it.

Part 4: Dean.

The brother Sam failed.

The conversation Bobby and Dean are having is breaking my damn heart, and we’re not even at the most brutal part of the episode.

Hallucination!Dean calling Sam a monster.

Real Dean willing to die for Sam again as long as Sam can stay human.

Of all his hallucinations, Sam is most affected by Dean.

I was beginning to question how Sam even got out of there...and now I’m being shown.

C A S W H Y

Awww at Bobby and Dean sleeping. The one moment of peace they get in the episode.

Cas actually looks guilty.

At least Cas’ first words to Anna were a fair (albeit vague) warning.

Anna is just shaming him, lol.

:( Anna’s been caught.

See you next season, Anna.

AAnnndd now Cas feels even more like shit.

I love how Bobby opted for a shotgun, bc it wouldn’t necessarily kill Sam (it’d just hurt very much). And he STILL can’t hurt Sam.

Sam becoming his own version of the “shoot me” vine in the saddest way possible.

We have back to back moments of Team Free Will members doing something terrible and feeling more like shit than they already do.

Did Sam take the Impala? How long was Bobby out there before either Dean woke up to the sound of the car and went outside to investigate or Bobby woke up on his own and ran inside to alert Dean of what happened.

Fuck yeah, Dean, go kill Ruby please. (Even though i know you won’t yet but still.)

So did Sam keep hallucinating or did they end with Dean?

(Also, I was convinced that Ruby withheld demon blood on purpose. Any other time Sam has called Ruby to come to him, she’s there almost immediately. But the time that Sam urgently needs her, she stays away...but then I thought that maybe she did arrive to Sam’s location, and saw that he was with Dean and didn’t dare approach. She might’ve followed Sam throughout that entire episode and found that there was never a window of opportunity to approach him, without risk of getting caught. Then Sam got taken to Bobby’s and it was game over for her, so she had to lie low until she heard from Sam again.)

Ah ok, so my attempt at explaining unseen things kinda went out the window: Ruby was looking for Lilith the whole time, aka three weeks.

(Which would actually kinda confirm my half suspicion that she purposely withheld blood from Sam. Ruby’s so manipulative, there’s no way of telling what’s true until it’s too late.)

“I’m sorry you’re hurting. Really.” Ooohhhh, what a manipulation.

Ruby’s tone and micro-expression when she says “I mean, he knows you better than anyone.” seem to suggest that she wanted Sam to say she knows him better.

Oh, don’t pretend to feel sad about Sam and Dean falling out.

It’s so sick and twisted that Ruby got Sam addicted to her blood. She was most likely the first demon he drank blood from.

Dean knows Sam so well, even when Sam is trying his hardest to throw him off.

Oh, they definitely had sex again.

Ruby does a good job hiding her excitement at getting closer to the final seal, everything she’s been working for.

Lilith’s personal chef.

NO ONE IN THEIR NORMAL MIND WOULD CALL A BABY “DELICIOUS”

How many times did Ruby have to tell Sam that it was “okay” to drink demon blood before he could do it?

YOU ARE NOT SORRY, STOP LYING.

“When this is all over, I hope we can fix things.”

Ruby looks...unhappy about Sam still wanting to patch things up with Dean. Like, she almost fully has him, but there’s one strand still attached to Dean and she wants to cut it.

“It’s gotta be about bringing him back, not pushing him away.” Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts until it goes to shit.

Bobby is everything as a father than John never was.

OOHHH KILL HER DEAN (even tho I know it won’t happen in this episode but stillll)

Damn it, Sam.

I feel like Dean had genuine intentions to just talk to Sam...but then he saw Ruby, the one responsible for Sam’s demon blood addiction, and just completely threw it out of the window.

That, and the fact that Sam let Ruby go.

OOHHH Dean is confirming my half suspicion about Ruby purposely holding out demon blood from Sam.

Ahhh ok. Sam just tossed aside Ruby’s knife so they could talk, hence how Dean has possession of it in the next episode.

Sam playing the “team work” card at Dean.

Sam and Dean’s “I’m the one who’s gonna stop Lilith” “no, it’s me!” discussion.

How come Sam and Dean didn’t question the fact that they were being told by the opposite ends of the spectrum that they were the “one”? (Actually, I can answer my own question: they were to busy worrying about each other and justifying making their decision as doing it for the other brother to protect them, etc...)

Sam pulls the “Dean’s not strong enough” to DEAN HIMSELF. I now realize this is Sam's “good reason” for doing the shit he’s been doing, but it comes off so terrible and disrespectful and flat out ignorant.

That little moment where Sam almost loses his temper on Dean, then catches himself and is honestly so scary.

I understand Sam’s need to be independent, make his own choices, and to have Dean trust him as much as he trusts Dean. I sympathize with Sam wanting to lead every now and then...but not like this, Sam.Would anyone trust a strung out addict that is being manipulated and puppeted by an untrustworthy person (demon, in this case)?

Oh god no, here it comes.

Dean pls. Dean you don’t hAVE TO NOOOOOOOOOOOO

That shot of Sam as we see him as a potential monster...he’s almost unrecognizable.

And with that, the Winchester blow out fight begins.

JESUS CHRIST SAM NOOOO

LOOK, AT WORST I LIKE TO THINK DEAN WAS JUST GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SAM ENOUGH TO KNOCK HIM OUT THEN DRAG HIS ASS BACK TO BOBBY’S

BUT SAM ACTUALLY ALMOST WENT IN FOR THE KILL, JESUS

“You don’t know me. You never did, and you never will.”

“You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back.”

Friendly reminder that if Cas hadn’t interfered and told Dean the truth, and if Cas hadn’t sacrificed his life to get Dean to Sam, that could have been Sam and Dean’s last interaction, period.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 4x21

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alejandropagunuran13-blog · 6 years

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Life of a Blogger

Believe in God

This is my personal experience when I was a kid and I was struggling with our debt burden so we could eat almost all the work of my parents even though they were tired even for them to feed my brother and my mom thought that why my father did not go abroad so that somehow it would diminish our debts one of my family's most severe tests for my dad's pawn abroad to borrow my mom for leaving my dad

And my prayer to God when we do not do it as it seems that nothing happens I say to myself that it will not happen or be fulfilled but my mother says I do not say that because all our prayers are heard by God but not He will now give us our request at the right time if it is necessary that I have really understood everything my mother said and that until the Lord fulfilled our request and that my dad will be left to Saudi Arabia.

But he does not have enough income to reduce our debt so he left his job and applied another job and God heard our prayers again and reduced our debt but as he worked on another the country has come a great deal of trouble in our lives and it is very difficult to go beyond our relatives to leave at the same time to be with the god that the most painful thing in my life is losing our precious grandparents and they are happy in the presence of the lord God.

And all our neighbors our homes are looking at us as they like them they are the ones who are very rich and I am feeling discouraged because of them but my mother says I do not want to plant you in because everything they do for us will come back to them because the God does not sleep all that they do with us he sees and does not enjoy it all the sins that his children do in the world he protects and my mother said we should not turn away from God because he is the only one who knows everything he has done all he can to love forever and forgive many times more times and I believe in everything that he said has entered my mind and my heart and that's all I can understand is my advice to everybody if you have committed a wrong attitude before you and ask forgiveness and do not leave him behind because he Jesus Christ has done everything you can to believe in him and no serious problem cannot be tolerated if the god is abandoned, so believe in God.

-Alejandro N. Pagunuran

Dear No One

Well obviously I’m not Tori Kelly, I’m not gonna sing. Anyway, dear no one, to those people who don’t often feel like they’re living the life they wanted. Dear no one, please tell them all the things you wanted to do, wanted to have and wanted to let go and you’ll feel like you’re talking to your self, an alternate universe of yourself. Dear no one, this ain’t gonna be your love song, but this will be your life song, please enjoy all the things that makes you happy and take risks if you feel like you wanted to. Dear no one, to myself right now, to my future self and to who I used to be, stay strong, don’t let other people make a choice for you, don’t let them dictate your moves and decisions, don’t let them take you for granted and never ever let someone feel that you’re not good enough. Dear no one, don’t be afraid to love, it’s okay to be selfish sometimes if that what’ll make you really happy. Dear no one, this is me talking to you, saying the things I wanted you to do and the things we should’ve do. Dear no one, especially you— myself, understand this, if only we could turn back time, I wouldn’t have to write this blog about realizations of all the mistakes we’ve done. dear no one, once you've reached you endpoints, the time where you'll be struggling of standing on the edge and holding yourself together, please remember that there will be someone who's willing to catch you and embrace you, someone who will lift u up and pull you closer to them and far of the edge. breathe, let go and cry. you've done a good job being strong, lifting up others and making them happy. dear no one, it's time for you to stop thinking others and let yourself to be happy. dear no one, i love you.

-Arzel Sagarang Veran

UNORTHODOX

This is a tale about the girl who prefers pants over skirts, adores make-up and the likes, loves books over boys, and fawns over food more than anything else. This is the story about Krystel Perez, the girl living behind the curtains, lurking in the shadows, yet still basks in the sunlight. ‘Carpe Diem’ is what she loves to say, but never really applies. She’s anxious, and a cluttered mess all the time, although when it really matters, she’s quite reliable. Scared about people judging her, she favors hiding beneath other people, staying on the surface and laying low, even when flying is the way she goes. ‘Never stand out’ is her life’s motto. People are obsessed with being different; with leaving a mark, while this girl tries everything in her power to blend in with the crowd. A journey where everything is bland and boring, welcome to my life!

-Krystel Gem Perez

Myself and my new Family

Hi I am Marivie Jane Nicolas ,but my friends call me Jen or Jane. My hobbly is singing and acting and my favorite sport is volleyball. My favorite color is nude colors, and about my likes , I like waching disney movies and some horror movies. I love eating nilagang baboy and dinuguan. I also love cooking, playing gun games ,and coloring. I love attending church every Sunday and participate on some avtivities in church like mentorings ,prayer meeting, and etc. I love also joining in some sports activities like volley ball. I remember last year we won first place in joining volley ball liga in our barangay and my fried won a medal bacause she is the MVP in our team and Im happy for her.About my school this this year ,on the first I was a little bit shy but when I saw Jam I feel that I am not alone because she’s there. And when weeks passed we all became comfortable with earch other and I can say all of them is really friendly and nice. And I feel that tjhis year is gonna be the best year because I meet new friends and teachers or should I say I meet a new family.

-Marivie Jane Nicolas

Creating a band on Junior highschool

It’s not easy to make a band although you like it. First you need to be patient because there's a chance that your band mates have their own schedule, we have different religion, different days of attending on church. Moreover sometimes having a misunderstanding on the day that we scheduled to practice. But after a misunderstanding, we never missed happiness even we have a lot of problems we just laugh at it. In the band, there are things that you don't need to give a big deal like a problem on your band mates if they don't practice their role as a band teach them how to make it right do not take advantage on them it will cause a big misunderstanding. Creating a band on Junior highschool is unforgettable moment because there's a competition that we joined "Battle of the bands" there 4 participants. I think this is the time that we show/share our talents. So don't lose the chances that we can have.

-Ryan Abian

Wake up

One Saturday night as I walk in the middle of nowhere, I saw you.

I’m tired, but when I saw your smiles my day lighten up. I’m hungry, but i feel sorry beacuse you are more than I am. Not a beggar, but someene who’s begging for some love and care. You are a dirty dress, that keeps the bacteria away, protecting us from illness. A slipper with poop, that no matter how used you are,or how dirty, never get tired us, A jewelry also, despite of those scratch and bruises, you keep on shining and giving us the way.

A beautiful Queen with no elegant dress but with those cries unsaid. See it, how closely you are dirt than to us your precious gems. May you show us the pain inside the wrinkles? May you show us the starts slowly fading away? Mom please/ Please stop pretending that you’re okay.

Mom please wake up, I want to see those smiles again. Sorry, But I love you and didn’t show it.

-Jam Rilveria

Best Friends

My girl best friend right now A girl that tell me im worth it even seldom A girl that i always want to talk at all times to the rest of my life A girl that always there no matter what happen giving me smilee to each other even its complicated She change my life for a short time with a long conversation full of meanings that we worked each other but not together its hard to say but i know she's a good person of the most beatiful heart person that came through my life my girl but im only one who knows my happy pill for a short time until now but many things running on my mind thinking about her thinking of she's still happy when she was with me before she's comfortable when im with her talking many things crazy moments of our life and knowing each other but after that one move one day all changes i don't know why i ask myself always where i did go wrong why she want a distances or space many questions iwant to ask but when im with her all preperations and energy goes away then i only ask myself everyday what why i cant tell her my feelings and truth.

-Dane Geronimo

My self

This is my first time to write a blog. I don’t even know how to write it and I have no idea on what to write. But since this is our requirement and based on my research about this site, we can write anything on this, even about ourselves, so I’m going to introduce myself as start.

Hi everyone! My name is Rovick Marvin. I'm 16 years old. I'm a STEM student at EAC,Cavite, I'm in the 11TH grade. I'm from Dasmariñas, Cavite, I am fond of playing computer games during my free time and after doing my assignments. I like to play badminton but nowadays I don't have much free time. I’m a homebody person. I rather stay at home than to mingle with some friends.

My father is an OFW for 25 years and my mother is a public school teacher. I grew up missing my father celebrating special occasions of mine. I have to accept the fact that he sacrificed his own happiness just to give us our needs especially for our future. So I’m doing my very best not to disappoint him and as a reward for his sacrifices. I have a brother name Mark Raven. He is now 21 years old. We have opposite personalities .He has a lot of friends and he is an outgoing person, not me. He loves to travel with some friends, but not my type. He has a lot of courage in driving our car, which I don’t have. But one thing I am proud of as well as my Mom, I am smarter than him in terms of studies. He spent a lot of money buying some stuff but I rather save most of my allowance in my piggy bank.We fight a lot even in a small things. But one thing we have in common, we both enjoy playing mobile games. I think this is all for now.

A pleasure to meet you all.

-Rovick Cantada

My favorite Person My Favorite person is named Mark, we've been schoolmates since grade 4 but never noticed each other, so basically we're schoolmates but a total strangers too, not until we turned Grade 9. That year, we became friends ( but ofcourse he's my crush already) and eventually we had our label on September 27th. He's quiet but goofy around me. He's clingy sometimes and comforts me and I'm feeling down, it's like I found a bestfriend inside my boyfriend. He's respectful and gentleman. He's not my ideal man but he's more than my ideal man. Well, I guess it true that when you found you're "The one" you wouldn't care about those anymore. And just like a normal relationship, we started fresh and happy, oh how I wish it was forever, but no relationship is perfect so just like the normal couples out there, we had our misunderstandings, fights, and such.

-Inna Dominique

Vèlo

First of all, vèlo means bike. Bike is a machine. That has many uses in every way. It can be used as transportation, sports, exercise and much more. Bike is very much easy to use. Just keep on pedaling in order to move your wheels. Bike has simple components on it just frames like our body, it’s the bod of the bike. Next one of course the wheels the feet in human body, the bar is the arms and so much more if I will label it screw by screw lol. My point is. Bike is a machine that can help you on every way you can imagine. Now you know whats is a bike. But let me tell you a more deeper meaning of what is vèlo for me. Bike for me is not just any machine, it’s like us humans. I treat it as a friend, that I can count on everything. Bike is my friend or should I say bestfriends ? I don’t know… but im sure of one thing, it will always be there when I need someone. Yes someone, because my bike ain’t just for transportation , sports or what. It’s like a human who you can talk to alone. Its like every pedal I make, memories are made. Let me describe my bike. My bike doesn’t have any brakes at all. It’s a fixed gear. If I want to stop, I need to stop pedalin’. The gear is fixed it cannot be freewheeled or coast while biking. You need to keep the pedal spinning in order to move. If we think deeper. That’s how our life works. You need to keep on pedaling, grinding no need to stop on life. Don’t put your feet on the ground. Don’t lose hope. Everyone asks me why do I need to ride a fixed gear bike or fixie because it’s so dangerous and so much more dangerous in traffic. I always answer it “I ride reasonably dangerous” I know its dangerous but its part of life right ? Whats life it’s not dangerous. If you fell down. Get up! Life is full of pain. Be thankful if you feel pain. Because if not. Your’e dead homie.

-Jayson Carlos

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shannaraisles · 7 years

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Her Beacon And Her Shield - Chapter 10

At long last, the blizzard had ended. Crisp white snow glistened beneath the moon's silver glow. Haven was gone, buried beneath a man-made avalanche. The deadly rush had taken the red templars with it, though the dragon had been seen flying away before the snow truly reached the village. Had the Elder One been buried too? Was it really so much to ask that the intentional catastrophe that had taken the Herald of Andraste from them had already ended the threat for good?

The camp was subdued, every one of them just a little broken by what had happened. To have come so close to victory; to have sealed the Breach with such success, only to be defeated by an enemy they had not thought to look for. It was too much to bear. To know that the Herald of Andraste had willingly gone to her death to save them ... that was the cruelest blow of all. Of all they had lost, she was the one most mourned. How could they go on without her?

Cullen stood at the crest of the valley they had retreated to, unable to tear his gaze from the ruin of Haven. Was she down there still, he wondered, her final resting place among corrupted templars who had not had the sense to take the sanctuary she had offered them? Or had the dragon removed her body, to be defiled in punishment for perceived crimes against its master? Just the thought of that made him sick to his stomach. Hadn't this Corypheus done enough to her?

"Ame ..." he whispered to the uncaring night, his heart crushed within his chest.

She was gone. She couldn't be gone. She'd always been there; even when he had sent her away from Kirkwall, he'd had the comfort of knowing that she was alive somewhere in the world, that he had saved her from almost certain death. But he had not saved her this time. He'd abandoned her, when he'd sworn he would never do such a thing again. It didn't matter that she had told him to go; that she had ordered him to guide their people safely out of harm's way. His failure had been set in stone the moment that army began to march. To save their people, Amelia had sacrificed herself, and to his shame, he had allowed her to do it. It should have been him.

"Biting, burning, the cold stings and numbs and tears; it hurts, hurts so much ..."

He startled at the sound of that voice, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but it was only Cole, that strange boy who had risked so much to warn them of the attack. The boy was crouched in the snow nearby, his gaze fixed on some unknown point farther down the mountainside. Cullen relaxed, too caught up in his grief to care that he was no longer alone.

"... the throne of the gods is empty. No. No, I cannot believe that. Andraste guide me, show me the path through this darkness ..."

What a bitter pill that was to swallow. None of the mages could guess how, but every one of the survivors had heard Amelia's confrontation with the Elder One as though it took place beside them. They had heard his claims with terrifying clarity, frightened by the implications of what had been said. They had heard their Herald spit defiance back in his face. Cullen's heart twisted painfully as he recalled again the sound of her defiance, her stubborn refusal to simply lie down and die. In those moments, she had stood for all of them, refusing to be cowed, refusing his desire to be a god. If only she had lived, they might have been able to pick up the pieces and go on. The creature had named her his rival. Without her, they had no defense against what might come next.

"... not afraid, I am not afraid. But I am afraid. Of the night, of the cold, of not knowing. What is the point of love if it is always lost ..."

Whoever Cole was, he seemed to be in a state very close to the despair crowding through Cullen's mind and heart. His Ame, lost to the spiteful malice of a darkspawn magister. But she'd never known she was his, not for certain. He had never told her, never confessed her place in his heart. Never held her just for the sake of holding; never shared with her how he had only begun to live when she had entered his life. Never shared his deepest secrets, despite her often asking. He loved her. He had failed her.

"... pain that flares and cuts like a knife. My hand burns, Fade light to feel my way. Have to keep going. Have to find them, find him ..."

Something in the boy's rambling broke through Cullen's bitter self-recrimination. He raised his head, staring at Cole in heart-stopping alarm. "What did you say?"

"... green against the snow. Embers ... still warm. They've been this way ... He's been here. Just a few more steps ..."

Fade light from a burning hand, green against the snow. There was only one person Cole could possibly be thinking of, describing in that moment. The boy shied back as Cullen reached out abruptly, prevented from escape by the hard grip the commander took on his shoulders.

"What are you saying?" he demanded harshly. "Is she alive?"

Cole's strange watery eyes came sharply into focus, looking away from the pain he was sensing into the angry hope that dominated the man holding him in place. "You are her beacon and her shield," he said calmly. "The snow chills her, the dread wolf howls, and she yearns toward you."

That was all the proof Cullen needed. "Tell the healers to prepare," he ordered the boy, already turning to stride out into the knee-deep drifts.

Amelia was alive! Out there, somewhere, searching for home. He was barely out of the shelter of the rocks when he heard the heavy stumble of a body forcing through the snow at his back. As he turned, he felt the oddly comforting closeness of a magical barrier form around him, shielding him from the worst of the biting wind. "What are you doing here?" he demanded ungratefully.

"My dear fellow, if you think I'm going to let you plunge out into the night without me, you've got another thing coming," Dorian puffed as he came level with the commander. His expression was unusually somber as he added, "Amelia would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."

"If we don't find her soon, you won't have the luxury of being unforgiven," Cullen ground out, irritated by Dorian's mere presence. If he were brutally honest, that probably had something to do with his sudden desire to be Amelia's hero and rescue her all by himself.

"In that case, I won't forgive me," Dorian countered, but any further debate was cut off as Cole seemed to appear between them.

"Not far, down there," the boy interrupted, pointing down the mountain. "Can't walk, can't think. The snow bites her hands and she does not give up."

"Come on, then," Cullen ordered them both, forgetting his irritation in a sudden surge of loving concern for the woman struggling alone in the night.

Even he had to admit that Dorian's presence was welcome in that headlong rush down the mountain. The mage held a barrier over all of them as they pushed on, the air within kept warm by their own exertions. He even managed to keep Cole focused; the boy had a tendency, it seemed, to hone in on whoever was closest, and that was not what they needed right now. Yet somehow Dorian kept the boy's mind focused on Amelia, the jumble of words and feelings growing more coherent the closer they got. It was an exquisite sort of pain to listen to him; to know that the thoughts belonged to Amelia, private and yet violated for the sole purpose of her rescue. To hear her pain and despair growing, her strength ebbing, even as they closed the distance. And without both of them with him, Cullen knew he would never have found her in time.

"... I shall die here, and he will never know, never guess how I loved him ..."

"There!"

Dorian pointed his staff, sending a flare of electricity arcing over the snow to illuminate the darkness. Cullen peered after it, squinting into the night ... and felt a surge of unbridled joy as he spied a faint flicker of green light against the moon-touched snow. Fade light to feel her way, indeed. His stride lengthened, forging a path through the drifts toward his fallen wife. She was kneeling in the burning blanket of snow, breathing hard, her face and hands mottled white and red with the cold.

"Ame!" Cullen staggered to his knees before her, fumbling to remove his bear-fur mantle even as he felt Dorian's magic infuse the air around her with gentle warmth. "Ame, it's me, it's Cullen. I've got you, you're safe."

Even lifting her head was a struggle, but somehow she found the strength to meet his eyes as he wrapped the warm fur securely about her shoulders. "... Cul? ... am I dead?"

"No," he promised her, his grin fierce as he watched Dorian pour a little of his own mana reserve into her. "You're alive. You're safe. We found you."

"We ...?" Her head drooped forward.

"She needs a healer," Dorian said, uncharacteristically terse. "I can't do any more for her."

"I will lead," Cole volunteered, his dim eyes bright as he basked in the unspoken love shared by husband and wife. "She wants to sleep."

"No!"

Cullen wasn't surprised to hear Dorian's denial of that desire resound with his own. He shook Amelia none too gently, relieved when her head jerked up once more. "Ame, you have to stay awake just a little while longer. We're not far from the camp, but you have stay awake. Do you hear me?"

Bleary-eyed and utterly exhausted, she managed to nod in understanding. "I hear," she breathed, frozen fingers gripping his arm. "Help me ..."

As much as he wanted to lift her into his arms, Cullen knew that would only make it harder for her to stay conscious. She would have to walk, but he would help her every step of the way. Slowly, painfully, he and Dorian got her to her feet, the mage sacrificing his staff to give her a walking stick, to support the side Cullen did not have tucked protectively against himself. As he had promised, Cole lead the way, no longer babbling Amelia's every thought as they retraced their steps through snow already disturbed by their passage. It was slow going - Amelia was exhausted, frozen to the bone, drooping with every step. She didn't have the energy to keep her eyes open, and yet she forced herself onward, dragging her leaden limbs through the broken drifts, leaning heavily on Cullen as they went.

"There! It's them! It's the Herald!"

"Thank the Maker!"

If he hadn't been so chilled and exhausted by the seemingly endless hike up the mountain, Cullen could have kissed Cassandra for what happened next. Cole's warning to the healers had been overheard, it seemed. On the Seeker's orders, Inquisition soldiers rushed out to meet them, stamping down the snow to make the going easier, offering their support to their wilting commander and his party as they struggled onward. Within a matter of minutes, Cullen, Amelia, and Dorian were hustled into a tent so unnaturally warm, he immediately began to sweat, and once again he blessed the mages who had chosen to join them. He let the healers take Amelia from his grasp, confident that she was in good hands, and sank down shakily onto a cot beside Dorian, who didn't seem to be in much better shape than he was. Outside the tent, he could hear the joyful news spreading like wildfire. The Herald of Andraste was alive.

Some time later, he roused from deep sleep, warm and oddly tangled. It took a moment to realize that he was tangled not just in blankets, but in limbs, and there were too many of those to be entirely decent. "What in the name of -"

"Keep your voice down, she's sleeping."

Startled by the sound of Dorian's voice quite so close, Cullen's eyes snapped fully open. He was still in that heated tent, the thick canvas buckled shut against the chilled air outside. He was also half-naked, clad only in his breeches, and buried beneath too many blankets for comfort. Dorian was also under those blankets, seemingly just as undressed as he was, and wedged between them, warm and soft and alive, lay Amelia, her sleeping face nestled in the crook of the commander's shoulder. Uncomfortable though it was to be sharing a bed with Dorian Pavus, of all people, Cullen could see the wisdom in it. They had all been frozen in some way; this was the safest manner of warming them all without harm.

"How is she?" he asked the mage in a voice rough with sleep.

"Miraculously unharmed," Dorian assured him, a wry tilt to his lips. "Not even a touch of frostbite. Either those boots are exceptional, or someone is watching over our Amelia."

The relief that flooded through him was almost enough to make Cullen forget the man was sharing a bed with him and his wife. "Thank the Maker," he breathed, tilting his head to gently caress her temple with his chin. Even in her sleep, she objected to the stubble, grimacing as she produced a soft sound of complaint. He smiled, afraid to laugh for fear of waking her. But not even Dorian's knowing smirk could stop him from pressing a kiss to her brow.

"Yes, I thought that was the case," the mage mused, every nuance of his tone and expression radiating approval. "You really should tell her how you feel, you know."

"That would hardly be fair," Cullen murmured, surprising himself with his response. But he would rather have her living and in love with someone else, than never drawing breath again. "She cares for you a great deal."

"Well, naturally she does," Dorian agreed in his flippant way. "I am adorable. I am also utterly impervious to her charms. Were she not so devoted to you - and I not so loyal to her - you and I would have had this out weeks ago. I refuse to break up a happy marriage, even if the participants are blissfully unaware of one another's feelings. I've seen so few of them in my lifetime." At Cullen's slightly stupefied look, he chuckled gently. "You do love her, don't you?"

Cullen felt his face redden at the direct question, unable to avoid the mage's gaze without disturbing the woman sleeping between them. "I ..."

"You don't have to tell me," Dorian asserted rather impishly. "Telling her would be a very good start, however."

Cullen opened his mouth to answer, and was prevented by a blast of icy wind rushing over them as the tent flap was opened to admit Mother Giselle. Both he and Dorian huddled in closer to Amelia, trying to protect her from that bracing rush of air, and he surprised himself again by feeling no embarrassment at the way Dorian's hand gripped his elbow beneath the blanket, both of them focused on protecting her.

"I apologize, commander," the Chantry mother said in her lilting tone, apparently ignoring Dorian's presence entirely. "The healers believe that the Herald has had sufficient time to warm through, and I believe you are required by Sister Leliana. I will sit with the Herald while you are gone."

"Because I cannot be trusted with the health and well-being of my only friend," Dorian muttered facetiously.

Cullen frowned at the cold way Mother Giselle failed even to acknowledge the mage who had saved Amelia's life twice now. "Thank you, Mother," he said through that frown. "But if you could wait outside the tent a while longer? Altus Pavus and I are rather undressed."

Mother Giselle's eyes widened in shock, taking in the three-in-a-bed situation in front of her. She had apparently not been made aware of just what was involved in skin-to-skin contact. "Of course, commander, I ... I will wait outside."

Dorian shuddered as she left. "Charming woman," he commented mildly. "Puts me in mind of a serpent, but without the cuddly personality."

"Is she often that way with you?" Cullen asked, reluctantly disentangling himself from Amelia's clinging limbs as gently as he could.

"Often enough," was all Dorian would say on the matter, but Cullen wondered just how much racial prejudice the mage had to endure on a daily basis. When they were all safe again, he would have to look into countering such attitudes.

Knowing now that their rivalry had existed only in his head, Cullen realized that he looked on Dorian Pavus as a friend. The man had meticulously dosed him with ever decreasing amounts of lyrium in Amelia's absence, and not once had he questioned him over the reason why. Their verbal sparring was enjoyable, almost a highlight of each day, a challenge to keep up with the conversation of a man who was probably far more intelligent than Cullen could ever hope to be. Dorian had referred to Amelia as their Amelia, and he was right. She belonged to all of them, and they belonged to her. In her shadow, they forged friendships that might never have come about without her. And Cullen protected his friends almost as fiercely as he did his wife.

His lips brushed her brow once again as the two men tucked her warm beneath the blankets. Sleep peacefully, Ame, he wished in the silence of his heart. Andraste bear witness, I will never abandon you again.

#her beacon and her shield #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #cullen rutherford/female trevelyan #cullen rutherford #amelia trevelyan #dorian pavus #cole #multi-chapter fic #angst #fluff #friendship #mother giselle #near nudity #snowy night

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