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thearvariblues · 3 years

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The Mysterious Case of Jaskier's Immortality

Word count: 3601

“So nice to see you again, Yennefer,” Jaskier says, putting on one of his many fake smiles.

“Jaskier,” she replies with a smile that almost looks genuine but Jaskier is pretty sure that it’s not. Which she confirms a few seconds later by saying: “Shouldn’t you be dead already?”

“I see you’re as kind as always, my dear. But don’t you worry, Geralt is doing a very good job when it comes to protecting me.”

“Hm,” Geralt sighs resignedly, clearly regretting his decision to spend the night in an inn instead of the middle of a forest.

To be fair, it was Jaskier who suggested it, claiming that he refused to be eaten by angry drowners, no matter how many times Geralt tried to explain to him that the probability of finding a drowner in the middle of a very dry forest is extremely low.

If Jaskier knew they were going to run into Yennefer in the inn, he would have risked the drowners.

“I don’t doubt that,” Yennefer smirks. “But seriously, how old are you, bard?”

“No idea. I stopped counting after fifty, I think.”

“You know, you don’t look fifty,” she says.

“Oh, well, my mother had an elf lover before I was born, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m not gonna age anytime soon. Sorry,” Jaskier smiles again, sweetly – and this time, it’s genuine.

“As if,” Geralt grunts.

“I’m sorry, dear?” Jaskier blinks.

“Come on, Jaskier, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a viscount, that means your father must have been a viscount, too.”

“You don’t know much about nobility, do you, Geralt?” Yennefer snorts.

“Hm,” Geralt grunts. “Still, he’s not a half-elf.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Witcher, therefore you could smell it if I was? I hate to break it to you, dear heart, but you’re going to have your nose checked.”

“You’re not a half-elf, Jaskier,” Geralt repeats. “You’re not immortal, you just… look young.”

“Yeah, right, you got me,” Jaskier shrugs. “I just look good because I moisturize. Happier now?”

“Much,” Geralt nods. “See? You can be honest if you want.”

“Yup,” Jaskier nods. “Honesty personified. Now please excuse me, I need to go and moisturize some more. Internally. With ale.”

“I’m actually a mermaid, you know?” Jaskier grins the next time he’s asked, this time by a very confused and very old Valdo Marx.

“A siren, Jaskier. Not a mermaid,” Geralt sighs, praying to Melitele to give him strength. “And you’d know that, of course, if you actually were a siren.”

“Just so you know, the term siren is actually quite offensive to my people.”

“You mean idiots?” Geralt chuckles. “You’re not a siren, Jask.”

“Can you prove that I’m not?”

“Well, last week you tripped and fell into this creek that was like… knee-deep, and you nearly drowned.”

“I was in shock!” Jaskier proclaims dramatically. “But I have a proof that I am, or at least could be a siren.”

“What proof?”

“Well, my lovely voice, of course!”

“Not as lovely as you think it is,” Valdo Marx snorts.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, ignoring the old troubadour. “You have much better voice that any siren I’ve ever heard.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?!”

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. “I didn’t mean…”

“Really though, Jaskier,” Valdo says. “How?”

“That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, I’m afraid,” Jaskier grins. “Once I manage to reach it.”

“Keep on with the bullshit, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “and you can reach it tonight.”

“Fifty years traveling with him, and he still thinks he can scare me. Cute, isn’t he?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt you could never.”

“Try me.”

“All right, I’ll tell you my secret,” Jaskier winks at Ciri, who lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got this neat… magic ring.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri observes. “Looks like a normal signet ring to me.”

“Well… Yeah, well, it looks like it, all right, but actually–”

“Jaskier, I was born a princess. This is clearly a Pankratz family signet ring.”

“Damn,” Jaskier groans. “Like father like daughter, eh?”

“Sorry,” Ciri shrugs.

“I got myself cursed.”

Triss Merigold lifts an eyebrow.

“Somebody cursed you to live forever, is that so?” she asks and her voice is almost dripping with disbelief.

“More like cursed me,” Geralt murmurs.

“Oh, shut up, Witcher, you know you couldn’t live without me,” Jaskier smiles brightly, and Geralt has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling back.

“Hm,” he says instead.

“Eloquent as ever,” Jaskier nods.

“Would you like me to...” Triss clears her throat. “You know, try to lift the curse?”

“No!” Geralt yells before he can stop himself.

“See?” Jaskier beams. “You could never live without me!”

“A bruxa,” Jaskier repeats to a young man who claims to be his son, but looks older than his supposed father.

“You’re not a bruxa, Jaskier!” Geralt whines.

“Excuse me, and how would you know?”

“Because I’m a fucking Witcher?!”

“Well, you’re clearly a fucking horrible Witcher if you haven’t noticed until now!”

“I think I’d notice if you tried to sneak out of the camp at nights to feed,” Geralt comments, crossing his hands. “You can’t even sneak out to take a piss, Jask.”

“Maybe I do that on purpose!”

“Besides, bruxae are mostly women.”

“Mostly being the important word here.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You won’t even eat a piece of meat if it’s not so well-done that it’s almost cremated.”

“Do you know how disgusting the blood is, Geralt?!” Jaskier groans, and then immediately blinks when he realizes what he just said. “I meant…”

“Case closed,” Geralt nods, satisfied.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier mutters. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Uhm, my lords, if I may,” the young man says.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but if you’re aging like a normal human, you’re probably not my son,” Jaskier shrugs. “Sorry. I get it why your mum might be confused, though. It was quite a night, with at least four–”

“And that’s enough,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him away from the man. “You know, lifting the curse seems like a good idea now.”

“There isn’t really a curse, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs.

Geralt sighs, his lips curling into a tiny smile that Jaskier cannot see.

“Thank fuck.”

“You see, we were in a crazy mage’s tower and I saw this bottle and I thought it was slivovitz, so I drank it, but it seems that it actually was some sort of an immortality potion,” Jaskier explains to a lady at the ball, whose grandmother he’d apparently fucked once, when said grandmother was still a young, unmarried woman.

Geralt only blinks, because it’s the first truly plausible explanation for Jaskier’s mysterious immortality.

“Oh, that must be so horrible to watch everyone you love die!” the woman nods enthusiastically. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it in private?”

“Of course, my dear…” Jaskier smiles. “Just… wait a second. How old is your mother?”

“Forty-seven, why?”

Jaskier’s lips are moving silently for a few seconds while he counts, and then thy turn into a wide grin.

“No reason, dear,” he says, offering her his arms. “Shall we?”

When Jaskier and the lady flee the ball, Geralt pulls out his flask of White Gull and pours its contents into his empty tankard.

So, a potion…

“There is no such thing as an immortality potion, Geralt,” Yennefer shakes her head.

“How can you be so sure?” Geralt asks. “Maybe this mage really did find a way to at least make the human life longer!”

“And why would he do that?” Yennefer scoffs. She has been doing that a lot since she finally ended their relationship for good about twenty years ago. (He later found out that she had left him for none other than Triss Merigold, but Yennefer still doesn’t know that he knows, and he’s having way too much fun with it to break the fact to her. So right now, he is pretending he doesn’t notice that Triss is eavesdropping on their conversation behind the door leading to Yennefer’s bedroom, and that he absolutely believed Yen when she claimed that the loud thud a few minutes ago was caused by a cat.) “We are immortal, Geralt, unless killed. There is no reason for any of us to make a potion that would make a human live forever.”

“Well, perhaps this mage fell in love with a human and wanted them to stay with him!”

Yennefer pauses, inspecting Geralt from head to toe and back again, and then she sighs.

“Oh, Geralt. Really?”

“Really what?” Geralt blinks, genuinely confused.

“Oh,” Yennefer murmurs. “Oh, no. Really?”

“Really what, Yen?”

“You mean you don’t… Oh, dear gods. Really?”

“Yen, I swear that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt grunts, frowning.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and tries counting to ten to calm herself down. She doesn’t even get to three before Geralt’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed, Geralt,” she nods solemnly. “Fuck, indeed.”

“I found a djinn, he granted me a wish,” Jaskier says when Geralt asks him, about five minutes after his meeting with Yennefer. (He agreed to use a portal to get to the bard as soon as possible. A fucking portal!) The bard is sitting in a tavern and eating his dinner, utterly undisturbed by the sudden appearance of an angrier-than-usual Witcher.

“You never mentioned a djinn,” Geralt growls. “And after your last encounter with one, I sincerely doubt you’d engage with another.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all–”

“Besides, Valdo Marx, as far as I know, had an apoplexy while fucking a young student on his desk, and I don’t think you’d ever let him die like that if you had a choice.”

“You see, that was kind of a my mistake, since I didn’t specify the time and the circumstances of his apoplexy in my wish, so…”

“What was your third wish?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your immortality, Valdo Marx dropping dead, that’s two. What was the third one? And don’t even try to mention the Countess de Stael, since you’d have to dig her up first.”

“That was disgusting, even for you, you know that, Geralt?”

“How are you immortal, Jaskier?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jaskier puts a piece of bread in his mouth and grins.

“Maybe some other time, Witcher.”

“I am a fae,” Jaskier replies a day later.

“You’re not a fucking fae, bard.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you fucking lie, Jaskier. All the time.”

“Fuck. Didn’t think of that.”

“You see, there was this artifact–”

Geralt closes his eyes, turning Roach around.

“Let’s consult Yennefer about this.”

“Oh, mother of…” Jaskier whines. “All right, no artifact, there was no artifact! Geralt, I’m telling you, there was no…”

“You’re not a succubus.”

“But it would be a perfect explanation, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not succubus, because if you were, you’d know that a male one is called an incubus.”

“Oh, you and your stupid Witcher terms again.”

“You’re not an incubus, Jaskier, because if you were, I could never let you near Eskel.”

“All right… Explain, please?”

Geralt grunts.

“I’d really rather not.”

“A dragon,” Jaskier grins victoriously.

“No,” Geralt says, shaking his head.

“No,” Jaskier agrees with a sigh.

“You know you could just tell me the truth and be done with it, right?”

“Hm… No.”

“All right, enough is enough,” Jaskier growls that night in their rented room, tossing his doublet aside. “You’ve asked me three times today, Geralt. Why the sudden interest in my immortality?”

“As you said, enough is enough. You’ve been traveling with me for what, a hundred years?”

“A hundred and four.”

“Yes, and you still look the same as the day I met you in Posada!” Geralt growls. “And it drives me mad!”

“It wasn’t driving you insane for at least fifty years, so why the sudden change of heart?”

“Fuck off, bard. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t care.”

“But you do, Geralt,” Jaskier says, taking a step towards the Witcher. “Why?”

He’s standing in Geralt’s personal space, his chemise half undone, and he’s watching Geralt with those sincere blue eyes, and Geralt can’t fucking think…

“Because I love you, you idiot!” he snaps. “Because I fucking love you and I need to know if I can love you, or you’re gonna just drop dead one day without a warning!”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his lips forming into a huge, happy smile. “Oh, fucking finally.”

“Fucking… what?” Geralt blinks, his arms suddenly full of an enthusiastic bard.

“I love you too, you silly Witcher,” Jaskier laughs. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years! Well, a hundred and four, but who’s counting?”

“You…” Geralt mutters.

“Silly, silly Witcher,” Jaskier repeats, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a kiss that could be described as chaste, or at least the chastest Jaskier has ever been capable of. “We’re going to Lettenhove in the morning.”

“We are?”

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier whispers. “See, I’ve told you the truth about the source of my immortality once. But I think you need to see it to believe me.”

“Wait, you have? When?” Geralt asks. “Was it the artifact? Just tell me, I promise I won’t make you consult it with–”

“Shut up now,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt again with way less chastity than before. “And in the meantime, believe me this – you can keep loving me, and I’m not planning on dropping dead anytime soon. Also, I’ve spent the last hundred years imagining fucking you senseless, so if you’re not opposed to the idea, perhaps we could, well…”

The kiss that this idea gets him is as far from chaste as one could possibly get.

And Jaskier definitely isn’t about to complain.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Geralt asks as they march towards the Lettenhove castle’s gates. He tugs at his doublet’s collar, way too tight for his liking. He’d much rather walk in there wearing his usual attire, but Jaskier insisted that Geralt must look presentable if he wants to meet his family.

It turns out that it only takes a single I love you to turn the bard into a manipulative bastard. Who would have guessed?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jaskier replies, grinning cheerfully. “And stop frowning, you’re gonna scare the servants, love.”

“How long it’s been since your last visit here, Jaskier?” Geralt says, his frown deepening. “Who rules Lettenhove now, hm? Aren’t you only going to be a distant relative, a great-great-uncle risen from the grave?”

“I sure hope not,” Jaskier chuckles, stopping in front of the guards by the gate. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Viscount Julian, here to see the Viscountess Madeleine.”

“How can you still be a viscount?” Geralt blinks when one of the guards promptly disappears inside.

“We kind of decided to, you know, share the title,” Jaskier shrugs. “Seemed fair. Besides, father, well, the former viscount, insisted that I inherit the title, but he never mentioned anything about Mads not inheriting it, so…”

“How could your father have known who the viscount is going to be in almost a hundred years?”

“He really didn’t,” Jaskier chuckles. “See, it will all start to make sense once you meet her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for.”

The guard returns a few minutes later, telling them that the Viscountess will meet them in the garden.

Geralt, knowing a thing or two about nobility, think it’s a little weird, but isn’t about to protest. He only thinks he could have left the fancy clothes at the tavern.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Jaskier chuckles when Geralt voices this thought. “You look gorgeous.”

“I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But I didn’t have to look like that, because we’re going to meet the ruler of this land in a fucking garden, and–”

“Julian!”

A woman in a long white dress throws herself at Jaskier, who happily catches her. Geralt’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, only to realize that he (luckily) left it in the tavern – because Jaskier insisted, of course.

“Madeleine,” Jaskier chuckles. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Oh, yes. Shocking, isn’t it?” she laughs, pulling away from him, and for the first time, Geralt truly looks at her.

The woman is shorter than Jaskier, slim, and her dress is much, much simpler than Geralt would have expected considering the fact that is supposed to be a viscountess. She has dark, long hair and her face is so beautiful that it almost – but only almost – takes the focus off her pointed ears.

“Lady Madeleine,” Jaskier grins, “may I introduce Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher. Geralt, this is Lady Madeleine, the current ruler of Lettenhove and my younger sister.”

“You’re…” Geralt blinks.

“A half-elf, yes,” she nods. “Julian! You haven’t told him?”

“Hardly my fault. I really tried,” Jaskier shrugs. “But he just wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you brought him here to prove it to him, rather than to visit your beloved sister? You are a horrible, horrible sibling, Julian!”

“Your… sister,” Geralt mutters, all his thoughts speeding through his head, colliding and falling down, one over another.

“Yes, we definitely share a mother,” Jaskier confirms. “Most likely a father, too, and trust me, it wasn’t the old viscount. Madeleine got the elvish looks, I only got the non-aging bit. Well, apparently.”

“But…” Geralt blinks. “Your father. The title.”

“Yen was right, dear heart, you really don’t know shit about nobility,” Jaskier snorts. “But I admit that even though our dear departed noble father knew that Mads wasn’t his daughter, obviously, it never occurred to him that I might not be his true son.”

“But you don’t age!”

“In his defense, that only became clear after his unfortunate passing.”

“And you aren’t going to start to age anytime soon,” Geralt mutters. “You really aren’t.”

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Jaskier winks, letting go of his sister and wrapping his arms around his lover instead.

“I… I…” Geralt stammers. “Fuck.”

“Maybe later, love,” Jaskier smiles. “Madeleine, my dear, wouldn’t you say that my return calls for a feast?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I have started the preparations the second my spies informed me that you have crossed the border.”

“Oh, so we have spies now?”

“It’s really only a net of nosy old ladies, but it works wonders,” Madeleine laughs. “I must admit, though, that I was only planning a feast to celebrate you coming home, but now I see we have a much better reason to party. Tell me, brother, did you finally get your stupid Witcher?”

Jaskier smiles brightly, turning his head to Geralt.

“Yes. I finally got my stupid Witcher.”

“Party,” the Witcher in question growls. “Is that why you made me dress like a pompous prick?”

“No, that was because while I find your usual self extremely attractive, you still look much better when your hair is properly combed and you’re not covered in monster blood.”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, but wraps his arm around the bard to hold him close.

“Oh, yes, about monsters,” Madeleine says with the most innocent expression Geralt has seen since Ciri broke Vesemir’s favorite vase at Kaer Morhen. “You see, we have a tiny problem with a cockatrice…”

“Right,” Geralt nods. “I’ll go grab my armor from the tavern.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have already arranged for your things to be brought to the castle. And your horse,” she adds before Geralt can even open his mouth. “You can leave for your quest as soon as the servants get here.”

“So much for you not being covered in monster blood,” Jaskier sighs.

“Hm,” Geralt grins. “Lady Madeleine, I suppose you happen to have a bathtub somewhere in the castle?”

“Of course. In fact, there is a private bathroom right next to Julian’s bedroom.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purrs. “You know me so well.”

“Yes, and I expect to get to know you even better. In another hundred years or so.”

Jaskier laughs, pulls Geralt closer to him and kisses him.

“Another thousand years, I’d say.”

“What… the… fuck?!” Geralt croaks, staring at the smouldering remains of the cockatrice that would have surely killed him if Jaskier… If Jaskier…

The bard looks at his hands, then at the cockatrice, and then back at his hands again.

“Geralt? I have a feeling that I’m not really… A half-elf.”

“No shit.”

“I think I might be… Uhm…”

“Oh, shit,” Geralt whispers.

“I suppose, uhm, you know…” Jaskier stammers, wiping his palms on his trousers like he could wipe away the feeling of literal flames shooting out of them mere moments ago.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to consult this with Yen.”

“Splendid,” Jaskier sighs. “Can it at least wait after the feast?”

“After more than a hundred years of you not even knowing, I think one feast will be fine.”

“Thank the gods. Madeleine would kill me if I tried to leave now,” Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s go, then. We need to get the fried monster remains out of your hair.”

“You’re… I was fucking right! You’re not a half-elf!”

“Yeah, you’re a great Witcher,” Jaskier nods, grabbing Geralt’s arm and dragging him away from the monster. “Didn’t notice I was secretly a fucking mage, but otherwise a great Witcher.”

“Explains a lot, though.”

“Does it now?”

“Yeah. I always had a thing for mages, you know.”

“Oh, Geralt. You’re such a fucking idiot,” Jaskier chuckles.

“Made you laugh,” Geralt shrugs, smiling.

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m so, so gonna drown you in that bathtub.”

“My love,” Geralt grins, “you’re more than welcome to try.”

***

Tagging @lottelorelei - I’m sorry I always forget to reply to your lovely comments, but believe me, they always put a big smile on my face! :)

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #my fics #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #idiots in love #immortal jaskier #non-human jaskier #they're stupid your honor #they share a single braincell #and yennefer has the custody of it #also madeleine hyland is jaskier's sister in this

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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

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Chapter 8: An Apology

Warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, references to an incredibly painful past, references to murder, references to torture, lots of crying, references of being shot/stabbed. This is really heavy, so please proceed with caution.

Author’s Note: Thank you to EVERYONE who has shown any support for this! I am very proud of this series and it makes me very happy people are enjoying it 💜

(I cannot remember where I got this gif from, so if it’s yours please let me know so I can credit you!)

After Mando left, you sat in your silent sobs for what felt like hours.

It could have been hours for all you knew. It’s not like you cared anyway.

All you did was sit in your guilt and shame, allowing yourself to digest all you’ve done. You have been pushing this down for so long, and now it feels like there is no stopping it.

A person can only pretend for so long, and you would give anything to just go back in time and reverse it all.

So many faces flash in your memory of people you’ve killed and cheated for the Empire, and it’s an absolute hell. None of these people deserved what they got. None of them. And yet you still did it.

No matter how many excuses you make for how you became a part of the Empire and all the torture they put you through, you still did it. You are still an enemy to the people you held so dear after so little time.

You are a monster.

After a while, you hear Mando’s footsteps entering Kuiil’s house again. You don’t even know where Kuiil is, you honestly forgot he even existed.

Maybe he will forgive me, you think to yourself. We were in a similar situation?

You see Mando’s helmet enter through the doorway and you feel the smallest, tiniest fraction of butterflies you once had for the man returning.

But the butterflies are immediately squashed when you remember you are about to be thrown out. Again.

Just because you handled it once before doesn’t mean you have the strength to go through that now. Especially after everything you’ve done.

You feel his eyes scanning your pathetic, patched up form on the ground, and the storm inside of you starts to rumble again.

Please… please not again.

He sits down on the opposite side of the ship, resting his hands on his knees. He folds his hands, and you swear you hear him take a deep breath.

“She needs to calm down, that’s all,” he says, referring to Cara, and you find some strength to nod. Your eyes are burning and your muscles want to explode from exhaustion. Your mind is keeping you awake, while the rest of your body just wants to sleep.

“I…. I wouldn’t have let her kill you,” he says, and you shut your eyes, feeling the tears start to rise again.

Why, you think to yourself. It would be easier for everyone if I was just dead!

You still somehow keep yourself together, wiping your nose with your sleeve. He can see how much pain you are in, but you were praying he didn’t pity you. You didn’t deserve it. Especially from him.

“I have only heard stories about red lightsabers. They belong to an evil, dark side of the powers that the kid has,” he says, and you nod.

He has to understand. You know he understands. He always has.

“They’re called Sith… right,” he asks, and you finally make eye contact with him.

“Yes,” you croak out. Your voice sounds like you hadn’t talked for a hundred years, but Mando just nodded.

Yes, you think to yourself. I am a Sith.

The fact that Mando knows who and what you are now is the weirdest combination of feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time, one double the weight has been added.

He was talking so gently. Like he didn’t want to rub it in your face.

He has to be doing this so I don’t kill him when he kicks me out, you think.

Why else would he have any respect for me? No one else ever has?

He takes a moment to process, and then he asks, “The Emperor was a Sith… wasn’t he?”

You feel like a sword has been stabbed through you one final time, but you don’t want to make him feel like he’s hurting you, so you just nod slowly.

You have to save your strength for when he asks you to leave. You know he will ask you in that calm, gentle voice that will haunt you forever.

He understands you fought for the Empire. You killed, destroyed, and lied for them. Their blood is forever stained on your hands, and now you got Mando bloodied.

He deserves an explanation, or at least an apology, so you mumble a quiet “um,” signifying you were about to speak.

Even if he doesn’t believe you, he needs to know you didn’t want this. Ever.

“My uh… my parents sold me,” you mumble while sniffling.

You can tell his interest is peaked because his entire body leans forward, silently asking you to continue.

How can he even look at me right now?

You proceed to tell him the story of how your parents were servants to an evil family who never gave them a fair pay. They were incredibly poor, and they had you outside of wedlock, so they were looked down upon even more in their society. They hated you for it. They took any chance they could get to get you away from them.

When the Empire came to your planet looking for recruits, your parents jumped on the offer. They didn’t mind the extra handful of credits that came with it too.

“No matter how much I hated them, they were still my parents,” you say.

“I didn’t want to leave them, so when the stormtroopers went to drag me away, I got so angry. I didn’t know it at the time, but the force channeled through me in my anger. I used all my strength, and sent them all flying through the air,” you say, while laughing uncomfortably at the memory.

Your eyes still burned and your muscles screamed for relief, but you had to keep going. Mando deserved to know the truth.

“That’s the last thing I remember of that day, and the next thing I knew, I was sent into training. I went through countless masters, but none of them could control me. I was just so angry. All the time,” you said with a sigh.

“I would refuse to do what they asked, and even when I did what I was told, I would hurt them instead. I never listened.”

You took a deep breath. This next part was going to hurt.

“They finally realized that I could not be controlled, so they….. tortured me,” you say, trying not to allow the weakness in your voice to show through.

If you got emotional, it was more likely Mando would think you were crazy. You had to keep pushing.

You cleared your throat, and continued.

“They made me do everything, Mando. They made me tear down towns, cities, planets. And if the people didn’t succumb to the Empire’s rule…,” you say, and you can’t even finish the sentence.

“I finally got away years later, and I escaped to Tattooine. They tried to stop me, but it was no use. I could beat any stormtrooper or Imperial guard they threw at me,” you say.

“They hurt me enough to know that I wouldn’t come back…… I hadn’t even come close to helping anyone but myself until I met you,” you say.

You take a deep breath and rub your eyes.

You did it, you think. He knows.

You let him digest your story. He listened intently and respectfully the entire time you were speaking. He never interrupted, he never became angry, he just stared at you and digested it all.

It was quiet for a while, until he stood up.

“The Empire killed my family,” he said, and all your composure went out the window.

You assumed that the Empire hurt him, it has hurt everyone, but this is on another level. It felt like you had been shot again, but this was way more painful. Your heart shattered for him.

You always knew the universe was cruel, but you had done horrific things, so you always thought it was payback. Now you knew the universe was truly cruel.

“I am….. so sorry,” you manage to say through your burning throat. Tears were streaming down your face, but you managed to stay relatively quiet. It’s not like crying for them would bring Mando’s family back.

He moved to you slowly and kneeled down in front of you.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. You just stared at the floor and wiped your eyes. You were hurting him, just like you hurt everyone else. It felt like hell on earth and you were convinced you were the worst person that ever lived.

“You… you don’t have to believe me Mando. I know I hurt so many people, and even if I didn’t want to, I still did what they asked,” you say, trying to fill up the space.

“You can kick me out, kill me. Anything. I just want you to know that I didn’t choose this. I swear on everything I would do anything to be any other person in the whole galaxy.”

You finish and finally meet his gaze, begging him to say something. Anything.

He stands to leave, and you finally accept your fate.

He gets to the doorway, your final hopes of forgiveness leaving with him.

“I believe you,” he mumbles, looking back at you.

“We will talk more tomorrow” he says, and he leaves you.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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that-blue-vault-dweller · 3 years

Note

That was depressing. :'( Maybe a fixer-upper? Companions react to Sole coming back? Maybe they apologize to their friends and wanna try again?

Here is some healing and a peace offering for you guys 💙💛 After that last post, I think we all needed it, lol. I hope you enjoy!

Cait - Hardly believes her eyes when F!Sole comes heading down the stairs of the Third Rail. She almost thinks that it's some twist of cruel fate and F!Sole is just back to yell at her and kick her more for something that she already berates and destroys herself for every day. But when F!Sole softly cups the side of her face, questioning softly and heartbrokenly about what had happened to Cait, the redhead launches herself out of her stupor and snatches F!Sole in one of those infamous bone-crushing hugs that she's so well-known for. Even though she is drunk off of her rear end, she knows that this is real. It feels, smells, and sounds too much like F!Sole not to be. She is blubbering all manners of apologies and explanations and anything she can think of to make F!Sole stay. It takes her a considerable amount of time to realize that F!Sole has guided them both to the back room on a couch and is carefully yet firmly explaining that Cait has nothing to be sorry for and that it is entirely F!Sole's own fault. For a while after that, she takes deep, shaking breaths as she just squeezes the woman as tightly as she can in an attempt to assure herself that she's still there with her. Eventually she falls asleep against F!Sole, finding herself the most comfortable she has been in days.

Piper - Almost can't believe the sight before her. When she answers the door, she most certainly did not expect to come face to face with the last person who wanted to see her. There was a deep regret and sadness shining in F!Sole's eyes, but before she could speak, Piper had launched herself onto her, clinging tightly and whispering constant apologies amidst lots of tears. When F!Sole wraps her arms around her, replying in that smooth, calming tone that all was forgiven and not to worry and that she should be the one apologizing instead, Piper only cries harder. She squeezes the life out of her Blue, vowing never to let her go again. In fact, she drags her into her house and forces her to just sit on the couch with her for a long time and they just hold each other until Piper calms down enough to talk.

Curie - When she sees F!Sole, she feels her heart clench and she almost cannot even move as she completely collapses into tears, and F!Sole has to head over to her and hold the poor, sniveling girl in her arms as she just cries it all out, pitifully sobbing about how sorry she is for whatever she said or did, and F!Sole just whispers comforting words, apologizing for breaking her promise and leaving Curie all alone in the world. Curie eventually gets ahold of herself well enough to control her arms again and wrap them around F!Sole's waist tightly. She is so, so thankful to have Madame back with her again, and she already feels so much safer and happier. F!Sole is crying a little, too, and Curie feels her heart squeezing again as she readjusts and holds on even tighter.

MacCready - Almost falls off of his chair when he sees her approach his house in the Capital Wasteland. She is standing there with a group of Minutemen behind her who obviously helped escort her there. She tells them something and they all take a moment to have a break. She then heads over to MacCready. He takes a look around, seeing that Duncan is playing in the yard at a safe enough distance away for the two of them to talk privately. As soon as she has stepped up on his front porch, he stands up and apologizes to her somewhat awkwardly. F!Sole explains that she is sorry instead and they spend a lot of time discussing things. He eventually introduces her to Duncan and they begin to make plans to head back to the Commonwealth together. Only two days later, they head home with Duncan in tow.

Deacon - Is very, very surprised when she approaches him when he is undercover spying on her. Those kind eyes are filled with love and care, and he is honestly not sure whether he is slightly skeptical or if he is just endlessly grateful for the fact that she is not yelling and angry still. She sits next to him and he tries to keep up the act in whatever role he has taken up. That is, until she snatches off the phony wig or hat and the sunglasses, dropping them on his lap as she looks into his eyes. He sighs deeply and apologizes for acting the way he did and upsetting her so horribly. She shakes her head, expressing that he is not the one that needs to apologize. In the end, she hugs him tightly, despite his uncomfortableness, but this time, it actually feels a lot nicer than usual. If it means she's back and won't leave again, he can suffer through as many hugs as he has to.

Codsworth - As he lives and breathes, he cannot believe that he is actually looking at F!Sole. He wastes no time in hovering over to her as fast as he can. She gently places her hands on his metal sides and steadies him as he begins to stumble over himself as quickly as he can, apologizing for his awful behavior. She just shakes her head, looking into one of his eyes and explaining that she was the one with the awful behavior. She wastes no time in hugging him the best she can considering all of his many appendages. He happily sighs and pats her back gently with a pincer. He is so relieved to have his mistress back and to finally have the one person that cares about him back into his life.

Hancock - Thinks he must be on either the best or worst trip of his life as F!Sole walks in through the door of his office, those beautiful eyes staring him down with none of the fire that they held in them when he last saw her. He raises up a bit from his place on the couch, but she comes to him, taking a hand and sweeping away all of the remainders of jet, psycho, whatever other chems he has been stuffing himself with. He immediately feels a great amount of guilt about not only the situation between them but also the fact that he has so unashamedly let himself fall apart like this. F!Sole, however, does not judge, and she simply starts to apologize for getting mad and leaving. He shakes his head and tries to apologize instead, but she stops him, insisting that it is she who should be sorry. After a moment of looking at her, he opens his arms and she happily falls into them, hugging him tightly. He just holds her for a long time, and they wait for his most recent high to disappear so he can truly converse with her for the first time in what feels like forever.

Danse - Is completely shocked when he hears her voice behind him. He carefully stands up, staring at her and he swallows hard, looking down at the ground and anywhere but her face. She comes closer to him, and he apologizes to her quickly. She shakes her head and negates his apology instead uttering her own as she stands just before him, trying to catch his gaze. Finally, she gently touches his chin and he immediately looks into her eyes. She stares at him for a long time, and he knows that she sees all of his pain, guilt, and sadness. He is not even trying to hide them at this point. However, she just shakes her head after a moment and embraces him carefully. He freezes for only a moment before slouching down to her level, allowing her to hold some of his weight as he presses his forehead to her shoulder. He just breathes her in carefully as she gently runs her fingers through his hair and reassures him quietly. He soon realizes that he is crying as a few tears slide down his cheeks silently. He just hugs her gently yet firmly, and they stand there for a long time, just hugging it out as she whispers how much he means to her and refills him with his lost sense of self-worth.

Preston - Is so thankful and shocked to see her that he almost does not know what to do. However, he quickly makes his way over to her as Minutemen are greeting their true general. He asks her if they can speak somewhere more privately. When they are alone, he proceeds to apologize for his actions and explain how inexcusable they were and how he should not have ever done it. She places a hand on his, and shakes her head, explaining how she is truly at fault. He just sighs and shakes his head before hugging her carefully. When he finally pulls away, he removes the general hat he has started wearing and he offers it to her, asking if she will be the general of the Minutemen once again. When she agrees, he feels all of the weight lifting from his chest and he feels happier than he has in weeks.

Valentine - Is just sitting in his agency when she walks through the door. As soon as she does, he drops his pen, looking at her as if she had sprouted two extra heads. She quietly asks if the seat in front of him is taken, and he gestures to it easily, encouraging her to sit. Ellie wastes no time in excusing herself to allow them to speak. After a few beats of silence, they both start to apologize at the same time. They both chuckle at that, and F!Sole explains how she is the one in the wrong. He shakes his head wordlessly, knowing the truth, and she reaches across the table, taking his hands and squeezing them before standing up and heading over to hug him. He feels all of the pieces mending themselves as he holds her in his arms, just enjoying her closeness. He will never mess this up again.

X6-88 - Is exceedingly surprised to see her as she teleports into the Institute just before he reports his failure to maintain her trust. She greets him somewhat breathlessly and apologizes to him before he has a chance to express his own regret. He blinks and stares at her before proceeding to apologize anyway despite her protests. She gently places her hands on his shoulders, and he felt something strange bubble in his stomach as she looked at him with such affection and kindness. He found that he liked this feeling much better than the one he got while thinking of that same face contorted with anger.

Dogmeat - Raises his head up, looking at the sunrise. He looks a bit harder, staring intently since he is sure he saw something moving on the horizon. Sure enough, he starts to make out the form of a person running. His ears perk up and he sniffs the air. Before she even gets to him, he smells that comforting scent. He wiggles a bit in place, but he is scared to hope. What if she gets mad at him again and yells at him some more? However, when she finally reaches the truck stop, she pauses, looking at him carefully. He wags his tail reluctantly but hopefully, not coming to her just yet. After a moment, she hesitantly and carefully approaches him, holding out her hand gently. He wants to sniff it and lick it so badly, but he waits. He does not shy away from it, though, when it gently meets the side of his head. After only a moment, she is stroking him with both hands and crying for some reason, saying the same two words over and over. She does not smell angry, and he actually smells shame and love coming off of her in waves. So he happily forgives his favorite person in the world, licking her tears away and snuggling into her grasp as he always did before.

Strong - As soon as he sees her, he starts to try to attack. However, she quickly raises her arms up in a placating gesture and apologizes repeatedly, trying to get him to listen. He pauses, but he is still angry. He finally decides not to smash her. However, he does not forgive her until she hands him a specially-modified board with razor wire, barbed wire, and nails coating the end. He then begrudgingly forgives her, and it does not take him long to return to his usual self around her.

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harrypotter-imaginess · 4 years

Text

Part 1 Here!

A/N: I’ve been writing this since March, and finally wrapped it up. Slightly NSFW, and apartment scene is inspired by Lore Olympus by Rachel S.

- You’ve been dating for 2 or 3 months.

- You do it basically every chance you get

- You moan as he pushes you up against the wall, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking at your collarbone

- “Dra-Draco please” you mumble into his shoulder

- “When do you have to be back at work?” He asks between kisses, piercing grey eyes peering into yours

- He never seems to lose his composure, not even during sex

- Which of course only makes you more flustered

- The first time, it had been fairly dark

- But over the past few months you’ve been with him so often you’ve got a very good idea of what his body looks like

- Toned arms, a firm outline on his abs, pale skin blooming with the hickeys you’ve left

- Not to even get started on that face

- No wonder you couldn’t keep your hands off of him

- He bites your collarbone and you yelp, only to be met with a raised eyebrow in return

- You feel your face grow hot, you were so busy admiring him, you forgot to answer his question

- “H-half an hour I think” you mumble.

- He frowns, that’s not as much time as he’d like

- “I guess you’re going to be late” he mumbles against your skin, his hand making quick work of your blouse

- You’ve got this glow, and everyone has noticed

- “Hey! Took a long lunch today?”

- You feel your face growing warm, your hand moving over the new hickey forming on your neck

- “Just lost track of time” you say with a laugh

- You haven’t told anyone at work about you and Draco because of his popularity in your office

- “Hey (Y/N)! Come over and look! The hot guys walking by our office again!”

- Draco’s got a scowl on his face, thin, pale eyebrows practically pressed together. His eyes hold a fierce glare.

- God, you haven’t seen that expression on him in months

- You had completely forgotten that you both hated each other at first

- You catch a glimpse of his soft, pale hair, falling against his eyes. A gloved hand moves to push it aside.

- A hand that had been somewhere rather intimate only a handful of minutes ago.

- Draco’s never been happier in his entire life

- Even his employees have noticed

- “Is it just me, or does Mr. Malfoy seem more chill than usual?”

- “Yesterday That part timer, Natalia, spilled coffee all over his coat. He didn’t even blink, just said ‘these things happen’, usually he’d sack her on the spot!”

- “Maybe he finally got laid”

- They both laugh at that, while Reginald is practically sweating buckets at his desk behind them

- Little do they know they’re spot on.

- Ever since Draco started seeing you, he’s constantly come to Reginald for advice on “navigating the muggle world”

- “The traps of the muggle world are terrifying” Draco had said with a shiver. “Y’know she wanted me to use one of these?”

- Draco pulls out a condom

- “I mean what even is this? A sweet? It tastes just like plastic”

- Reginald’s not sure what’s more embarrassing, that his boss tried to eat a condom, or that he had to spend an hour and half explaining what a condom was to him, and how to use one.

- “So you can shag as much as you want with these, and nothing happens?” Draco says with a face of sheer amazement.

- Reginald has to remind himself to be empathetic. He’s lucky his parents are muggles, and generally very open minded.

- It’s not surprising Draco doesn’t know anything. The wizard world’s typical propaganda encourages procreation to increase the wizard population.

- The truly desperate can drink a potion or cast a charm, but Reginald’s sure something of that sort is never discussed in pureblood familys.

- “Muggles are pretty brilliant aren’t they?” Draco’s staring at the small plastic square in his palm, with true wonder.

- Reginald can’t help but smile, he looks like a kid that just discovered sweets

- “They are”

- Draco’s feeling pretty good, he’s got your favorite take out in one hand, flowers in the other, and a smile on his face

- He’s got someone he loves, he knows what condoms are, he’s on top of the world

- “Draco, how come I’ve never been to your place?”

- Happiness is fleeting, and reality is a lie

- He’s just set down the take out on your dining table, watching you sitting on the edge of the sofa

- You’re only a few feet away from him, but you feel an ocean away

- Well, he can hardly tell you that he still lives with his parents and that they despise Muggles and would probably curse you before you could even make a sound

- His mouth opens, brain scrambling to find an excuse

- He’s going to go with “he lives at his parents estate” when he actually looks at you

- You’re not looking to him, waiting for an explanation. You’re looking at your hands, eyebrows creased together and teeth nibbling into the flesh of your lip.

- He places a hand under your chin, nudging your face to look up at him.

- “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

- It’s not

- You were too much of a coward, and chickened out asking him your initial question

- You hadn’t thought of it before today, when all the women in your office crowded around the window to look at him

- He must have women throwing themselves at his feet

- You were together so often, you doubted he had the time to have anyone else.

- But you never had dates at his place, always yours

- In fact, you had never visited his place

- He could have an entirely different life than what you imagined, and this relationship, the blossoming feelings inside of you could just be in your head.

- Well, you’re only half right. Draco does have a whole other life, but not like you think

- “It’s just- what are we?” Biting on your lip, mustering up every ounce of courage you have you add “...are we dating?”

- Or are you both just f*cking

- He’s taken aback that this is what you want to ask, and honestly he’s a bit annoyed

- In his mind he’s already given up so many things to be here with you now

- His pride, his family, his heritage, he’s even ready to give up magic if it comes to it

- It’s all so obvious to him, that he doesn’t realize it’s all in his mind, he hasn’t conveyed any of this to you

- A softer expression moves across his face, as he takes you in, your gaze lingering on your hands.

- Of course you’re confused

- He kneels beside you on the ground, his fingers wrapping around your hand

- “Of course we’re dating, you’re my (girlfriend/boyfriend), my lover, my significant other, my partner” each title is pronounced by a soft kiss on your knuckles. He peers up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your flushed face

- You’re his entire future

- “How do you feel about me?” He asks, his breath held in his throat as he watches you carefully

- He’s only now realizing that much of your relationship has existed in his mind

- The thought that perhaps you don’t see your relationship as anything long term only occurs after the words leave his mouth.

- You’re flushed hiding your face in your large sweater

- It’s hard for you to be honest with your wants and needs, especially in relationships

- “I want you to be my boyfriend” you mumble, and he squeezes your hand

- The words take courage you didn’t know you had, but Draco’s grin is worth it.

- He places kisses on your hand, then your face, and finally your lips. You feel his smile, and can’t help but smile as well.

- Then his kisses trail to your neck

- “Draco... the food will get cold...” you murmur, but your hand creeps under his shirt.

- “It’s fine,” he mumbles against your neck. “Gives me an excuse to invite you to my place for a proper meal next time”

- Cue to the next day, with Draco sitting across from his mother in their home. She’s flipping through a book with her wand.

- “I want a flat!” He practically shrieks out, Narcissa doesn’t even look up

- “To own, or rent?”

- Crap. He didn’t think this far ahead, he didn’t really think the words would actually come out. But he promised you a date at his place, and he can’t exactly bring you to the manor now can he?

- Besides, possible hexes and curses aside, his parents being here would definitely kill the mood

- “Rent, I guess. It’s just hard commuting to the office from home.”

- He half expects his mother to tell him to quit then, not like he needs the salary anyway. They have plenty of money.

- But instead, she says:

- “Fine, I’ll tell your father to contact our real estate connection.”

- Draco lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, about ready to walk away, his mother looks up from her book for the first time

- “And Draco,” He meets her gaze, stopping midway from exiting “do bring them home sometime.”

- He’s attempting to play dumb when his mother adds

- “And make sure to cover up the marks on your neck before you see your Father. You know how he is.”

- Draco just nods, feeling the heat creep into his face.

- Apartment hunting is surprisingly stressful. Partially because of how little he understands the muggle world.

- “This is the electrical closet, it stays locked.”

- Muggles. Don’t they realize he can just use a quick ‘alohomora’ to open it.

- When the realtor isn’t looking, he opens it, takes in the air conditioning unit and the wires, and promptly closes it again

- The muggle world is truly terrifying

- He ends up choosing a flat a few streets away from yours, in a posh upscale building. Naturally he lives in the penthouse.

- He considered moving into the same building, but decides against it

- He has to remind himself that even though he plans on marrying you, he has to play it cool.

- From your perspective you’re a new couple that’s still falling in love

- He hates his apartment, he doesn’t understand how anything works, he has to cook all his meals himself, and he didn’t realize how much cleaning went into living without servants

- He has a newfound respect for house elves as he scrubs pasta sauce off of the ceiling

- In addition, none of the appliances in this place are enchanted, which means he has to actually use his hands to turn on the water or open the refrigerator

- He hates it

- “Wow, I considered this building too, but it was pretty expensive” you say as he helps you out of your coat

- You wonder if the reason he never invited you over was because he was trying to hide the fact that he came from money

- Not like it was a secret, what with the clothes and the restaurants he took you to, he was either rich or close to bankruptcy

- Draco’s just hoping you haven’t figured out he only moved in a week ago

- Thankfully the red sauce stains on the ceiling and Draco’s inability to clean very well thoroughly mislead you into believing this is a well lived in apartment

- Your eyes twinkle as you take in the incredible view from the large panel window in his living room

- “The views absolutely bewitching” you murmur with a smile, enchanted as you gaze at the twinkling lights of London

- He watches you, watching the lights. You look like you’re almost glowing, your form wrapped by the scenery

- “You’re the one that’s bewitching” he murmurs, watching your grin

- Well he can manage for a bit longer

#harry potter imagine #harry potter preferences #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy headcanons #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy x Muggle reader #draco malfoy x you

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alexiessan · 4 years

Text

Senses - Chapter One - Soulmate AU

AO3

Here - Next

Master List

Happy birthday to me! As a gift from me to you, here is the first chapter of my new story! It's more mature than the other one, so be sure to be careful before you start reading.

This work was inspired by Sense8. The soulbond works the same way as in the TV Show. I've tried to explain it as best as I could in chapter 2, but I don't know if I succeeded. If you've watched it, you'll have no issue. If you haven't, it's a good TV show but it's not for everyone. If you're under 18, I don't recommend you watch it as there are violence and graphic sexual content in it.

In this story though, there is no graphic sexual content. It's implied, just like in Never Alone. But there are graphic depiction of violence and blood at some point, I'll warn you in the notes at the beginning of the chapter of course.

TW: Marinette has a bit of a panic attack in here, but it's really short!

Summary: Marinette never thought that she would be among the 0.1% of the population to have a soulmate, and yet, here she was.She wasn't ready for her life to change drastically because of it.

The first time Damian heard about soulmates was when he was fourteen-year-old. His mother never mentioned it when he was a child and neither did his father nor any of his brothers when he came to live in Gotham when he was ten.

The reason he never heard of it was simple: only 0.1% of the population had a soulmate. Which meant that the chance of him having one were close to none.

While soulmates were common knowledge, it wasn’t particularly talked about because of the rarity of it. People weren’t jealous of the very few who got one, but there was a curiosity about this topic.

So, when Damian first saw a girl in the dining room while he and his family were having dinner, he was more than surprised. No one should be able to enter the Manor unnoticed.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?!” he asked, or rather, demanded in a cold tone.

The girl jumped as if she hadn’t noticed him at all. She turned around, her eyes landing on him and she squealed, letting the sketchbook and pen that were in her hands fall on the floor.

“What- Who are you?! And how did you get in here?”

“I’m the one asking the questions.”

His family looked at him before looking around. Dick left his seat to approach him.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked softly, as if afraid to startle him.

It made Damian frown. He didn’t need his oldest brother to treat him like he was going to break down if he were to talk louder than that.

“I’m talking to this girl who somehow broke into our house.”

The girl scoffed. “Excuse me, but it’s the other way around. You’re in my house.”

The youngest Wayne stood up, hitting his fist on the table.

“Stop with this nonsense. How could I be at your house when you’re clearly in mine?”

There was a soft gasp coming from behind him and Alfred came behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down.

“I think I know what is going on, Master Damian. And there is no need to worry.”

“No need to worry,” the pre-teen exclaimed, turning around to face the man. “A girl just broke into our home and you’re saying there is nothing to worry about?”

“Indeed. Because there is no one here.”

He went to argue, to tell them that there was obviously a girl around his age right in front of them, that he wasn’t going crazy. But when he turned around, the girl was no longer here.

“What- where did she go?”

“Master Damian, you were the only one seeing her.”

Damian scowled as he faced Alfred again. “How is that possible?” he looked at his brothers and his father who were looking at him in worry. “I’m not going insane!” he defended.

“No one said you were,” answered Dick, but there was an edge in his voice that said otherwise.

“You didn’t but you still think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Well, you did see someone no one else saw,” started Jason.

Tim remained silent, as did his father, probably trying to understand what was going on.

“But Master Damian is not going insane,” Alfred stated, still as calm as ever. “He just met his soulmate.”

There were several gasps around the table, and the look of worry disappeared from the members of his family’s faces, to be replaced by a look of understanding.

“What are you talking about exactly,” he asked, feeling calmer now that there was an explanation about what just happened, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.

His father cleared his throat. “I’m not surprised you didn’t hear about soulmates until now. Talia probably never saw the use to, and I didn’t think about bringing it up.”

The middle-aged man took a bite of his meal, swallowing before continuing.

“It’s not common, but some people do have a soulmate out there. I believe it’s only 0.1% of the population, if not less.”

He fell silent, disregarding his meal as he contemplated how to explain this particular topic to his son. Never did he think that he would meet someone with a soulmate. Because, yes, it was that rare. Never would he have thought that his own son would be one of the people having a soulmate.

But it was a good thing, Bruce thought. His son, who had so many difficulties trusting others and befriending people, was blessed with someone who he could trust with his life.

He knew it wouldn’t be that easy. That Damian would scoff at the idea. That he would probably be rude to the girl that was assigned as his soulmate when he will see her again. That it would probably take years for him to give his soulmate his trust.

But she would be the one he would trust the most, one day.

“When you have a soulmate, someone that was decided to be your perfect partner by the fates, they appear to you from time to time. Either you’ll see them where you are, or you’ll appear at their location. They’re not really there, but you’ll sense them all the same. You can touch them, interact with them, but you can’t have any interaction with their environment.”

He sighed, feeling that his explanation was not helping at all.

“There are, sometimes, body switches. You don’t always control them, especially in the beginning, but you can learn to. The… uh… ‘apparitions’, let’s call them that, will be random too until you learn how to control it.”

Bruce massaged his temples, trying to remember what he knew of soulmates.

“Oh,” he began again, “if your soulmate speaks another language, it will be automatically translated to the one you speak.”

He finally looked at his son in the eyes, seeing him frown. “Basically, your soulmate is the other half of your soul. Your one true partner, the one who will never betray you. Congratulations, Damian.”

His other sons smiled at their younger brother, taking their turn to congratulate him, but the pre-teen only frowned.

“What’s wrong?” asked Bruce, even though he knew exactly what his son was thinking.

Damian scoffed. “I don’t believe in that. Who can decide who to trust but me?”

Bruce sighed, crossing his arms. “I’m not saying that you have to trust that girl immediately. You are soulmates, yes, but it works like every other relationship. With work and efforts to get to know each other. I know your trust has to be earned. Well, so be it. Just know that, as your soulmate, whether you like it or not, that girl is here to stay.” Bruce smiled. “She was chosen for you.”

Damian scowled, and Bruce let out a laugh. “We’ll see where it goes. Don’t think too much about it.”

Bruce was about to go back to eating when Damian finally spoke up.

“If she appears at random times without any of us having control of it, my identity will be compromised.”

Bruce froze, as did his other sons.

He had thought of that, of course. There was no hiding something that big to a soulmate. And while he didn’t like the idea to trust someone he didn’t know with his son’s identity — and his own and his other sons’ too — he had to believe that the person assigned as his son’s soulmate could be trusted.

After all, not a lot of people could be his son’s soulmate.

“It will. And we’ll have to bear with that. Since it’s your soulmate, it means that she is someone you can trust, even if you take a long time to trust her because of your issues.”

He sighed.

“I don’t like that our identities will be compromised, but we can’t do anything about it.”

“I can always threaten her.”

Jason laughed. “That’s a very bad way to start any sort of relationship, brat.”

They all returned to their dinner silently, all worried about their identity.

Especially since there was nothing there would be able to do about it.

Marinette was having trouble breathing. Her vision was turning black the more it lasted.

She was having a panic attack, she realized, like an afterthought.

She tried touching things around her. She found the sketchbook and the pen that had fallen on the floor earlier. She felt a piece of paper too — one of Adrien’s pictures she has been getting rid of, she realized — and the wood of the floor.

But it was Tikki’s voice that made her calm down.

“Marinette, you’re okay. I’m here and you’re in your room. Nothing can hurt you here. Listen to my voice, alright? Breathe in… Hold it… Breathe out.”

She listened carefully to the kwami’s instructions and after awfully long minutes, she managed to calm down enough to breathe.

“What happened,” the little god finally asked, her voice soothing to Marinette.

The dark-haired girl took a deep breath before looking around, making sure that the boy from earlier was truly gone.

He was there, just like that, coming out of nowhere, and gone the next moment.

Marinette wasn’t stupid. She knew what it meant. She had heard about soulmates from Tikki.

She just didn’t think that she would be one of those people with one. It felt so surreal.

“There was a boy here just five minutes ago.”

Tikki frowned.

“But there was no one…” she said before her eyes widened. “Oh! You’ve got your first contact with your soulmate! Marinette!” she exclaimed, flying in circles as she expressed her joy. “That’s amazing! You have a soulmate.”

Marinette said nothing, frowning as she looked around in her room.

The photos of Adrien that have been hanging on her walls were now on the ground sorted in a pile, waiting to be thrown out.

Marinette fell in love with Adrien almost a year ago, when he gave her his umbrella.

She had changed so much after that, obsessing over him like she has never obsessed over anything before.

She had had photos of him on her walls. His schedule too.

And yet, she hadn’t seen anything wrong with it at the time.

It was only when she had this weird double date with Luka, Adrien, and Kagami, after dragging Luka in this, did she realize.

Her love — no, her obsession — for Adrien wasn’t healthy. She was becoming a stalker and trying to sabotage other people for her own gain.

She was so focused on Adrien that everything else came in second place.

She didn’t like who she was becoming. Marinette didn’t like herself anymore.

And wasn’t it important to love oneself? Or to at least, to have some self-respect?

But Marinette didn’t like nor did she respect herself when she was in love with Adrien.

So she had to move on for her own sake if not for other’s.

She had taken down his schedule first. Then, it was the pictures, little by little.

There was so much of them that it took her a few days to take them down completely. School, homework, and her Ladybug’s duties left her with little time for anything else.

It was one in the morning right now, on the weekend that she finally took down the last of the pictures. She wasn’t tired yet so she had decided to sketch a little.

And then, the boy appeared.

Marinette was only now trying to move on from Adrien. From a frankly unhealthy crush — which made her wonder why her friends were encouraging it in the first place — and it was difficult, but she had to do it, to find herself again.

And somehow, the fates decided that it was a good time for her to introduce her to her soulmate.

No. Marinette couldn’t do this.

What if she became obsessed once again? What if she was actually insane and would obsess over anyone she would feel attracted to?

She wasn’t ready for a soulmate.

Deciding that it wouldn’t do any good to keep all that to herself, she told Tikki everything she was thinking.

The Kwami looked at her with this smile that reminded her so much of her mother.

“Oh, Marinette,” she sighed softly. “You’re not insane. Don’t be afraid of love because your first experience wasn’t a good one.”

“It was unhealthy, Tikki,” the blue-eyed girl interrupted.

“It was. But it’s also my fault. I didn’t tell you it was, and you were only thirteen when you fell in love with Adrien. You didn’t recognize an unhealthy behavior yet. I should have told you. But you realized that you didn’t like who you were becoming and decided to change. It’s a good thing. You’re admitting your errors and you’re taking your responsibilities to try and correct them.”

She flew to Marinette’s cheek and give her a little hug.

“And I’m proud of you for that,” the little kwami said. “It was the first time you fell in love. You got a bit excited. To the point of obsession, and obsession is never a good thing. Never. But you’re moving on from that. Now that you know it’s wrong, you won’t do it anymore, I know it.”

The fashion designer nodded, reassured by her friend’s words.

“I…” she hesitated but continued when Tikki nodded at her. “I still don’t want a soulmate… I mean… In theory, it’s amazing. My other half… The one I will trust more than anyone else in the world… But I don’t want to be forced to love them.”

Tikki laughed. “You won’t. The bond is just introducing you and, yeah, it will force you to spend time together with the apparitions and the switches, but it’s just saying: ‘Look! Here is the perfect person for you. They’re right here! Now, do what you want with this knowledge.’ You will love them because you want to, not because the bond is forcing you.”

The designer looked away, still skeptical.

Tikki smiled. “I understand your skepticism. But you’ll see for yourself.” she kissed her holder’s cheek. “Just keep an open mind, okay?”

“Alright.” Marinette sighed, getting up and gathering Adrien’s pictures. “Okay. Time to move on,” she said determinedly.

And she threw the last pictures in the trash.

Tag List:

@justafanwarrior @animegirlweeb

#maribat #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc

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wlntrsldler · 4 years

Text

Fine Line (Bucky Barnes Falling Series)

A/N: This is the sequel to Falling. This will be the second installment to my Falling (Bucky Barnes) Series. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

PROMPT: Bucky has been distant lately. Y/N doesn’t know why.

WARNING: slight mature content but not in detail, ANGST, SADNESS, fluff

FALLING | FINE LINE | SHE

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Nat, I’m begging you,” Bucky pleaded, getting on his knees in front of his teammate. “Tell me where Y/N went.”

Nat pitied him. It hurt to see him so broken, begging for her to tell him where you went, but her loyalty was with you. She promised to you that where you went would stay with her and only her until the grave. “I can’t, Bucky.”

“Nat.” His voice cracked, tears slipping from his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do. Her phone is disconnected. I called everyone she knows. Nobody knows where she is. Nat, please.”

“Get up, Barnes,” She sighed, pulling the soldier by his arms. “Y/N made me promise I wouldn’t say a word. I don’t agree with what she did, running away and leaving you with no trace, but it’s what she wanted. She didn’t want you to all of a sudden start acting like you love her again just because you realized she’s not there anymore.”

“Again? What do you mean again?” Bucky questioned, rising to his feet. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe his nose and the tears on his cheeks. “I never stopped loving her, Nat.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I can explain.”

Nat’s face paled after Bucky’s explanation, realizing that she needed to bring Bucky to you, even if it was the last thing she did. That’s how he ended up in California on your doorstep, with the most panicked look on his face.

You heard the first knock over the loud bass of your breakup playlist. You ignored it, remembering that Nat was the only one who knows where you were and she had you memorize a secret knock for your protection. It was a bit over the top to you, but as an Avenger, she wanted to take safety precautions.

Then a second knock. A third. A fourth.

You pressed pause on your phone and walked over to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Bucky. You dropped the phone in your hands, not believing your eyes. What the hell was he doing here?

You debated on even opening the door. Leaving Bucky nearly killed you, you almost didn’t do it. It was a shock, a miracle even, that you had the courage to get up and leave. You knew that you were too vulnerable, too in love and too attached, to be able to walk away from him a second time. All it takes is for those beautiful, blue eyes, that you used to wake up to every morning to take one look at you. All it takes is his voice, rough around the edges but soothing, calm, home. All it takes is one touch to reignite the spark that you convinced yourself has burned out between you. That’s all it takes.

You started to back away from the door, having gone through enough breakups in your lifetime to know how it goes. You leave. They beg for you to stay. They promise they’ll change. Things are good for a while. Then they remember why they became distant in the first place. Next thing you know, it’s over all over again. You couldn’t lose Bucky a second time. The first time was painful enough.

“Y/N, please.” His voice croaked out from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there. Baby please, let me explain.”

You gasped upon hearing his voice. Baby. Your heart broke after hearing how broken he sounded, the way the pet name still rolled off his tongue with such familiarity. it was overwhelming.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to see me..” Bucky leaned against the door, mumbling into the wood. “But please listen to me. I know I don’t even deserve that, but please, doll. I’m begging you.”

You stayed silent, pressing your ear against the door. Why are you doing this? A part of you knew that no matter what he said, no matter what excuse, you would open the door and fall apart in his arms. It’s Bucky. It’s your Bucky.

“Okay,” He sighed. “In the small chance that you are listening to me, I can explain why I’ve been so distant lately. I was scared, doll. I-I’ve been doing these treatments with Tony that’s supposed to reverse what HYDRA did. In hindsight, it was supposed to diminish the effects of the trigger words on me and I could become Bucky. James, the one that I would tell you about.”

“But it didn’t always work..” He trailed off, staring at his metal hand, a reminder of the monster that he became. Even after HYDRA, he was still suffering. He had lost so much because of the Winter Soldier, he’ll be damned if he loses you too. “Some days it would make me worse. It was a lot of trial and error, I knew that going into it. I couldn’t tell anybody, not even Steve.”

“You don’t understand how badly I wanted to tell you. All those talks about our future, marriage, kids, all of that, suddenly started to feel like it could be a reality instead of just my wildest imagination.” Bucky chuckled. “But the treatment was a push and pull sometimes. Sometimes I’d feel like it was working and I’d be so excited to come home to you and kiss you. God, I miss kissing you.”

You wiped the tears from your face, missing the way his lips felt on yours. They were always chapped but the minute your lips touched, none of it mattered. You’d kiss him even after missions, lips busted and bloody. You’d kiss him in his sleep, pull away and watch the smile cover his face as he started to wake up. You’d kiss him when you were making love, incoherent words of love and affirmation as you both reached your release. You miss kissing Bucky, you truly do.

“Other times, I would lose control over my arm and it would just crush everything in sight. They’ve had to confine me in a cubicle until the symptoms wore off.” Bucky looked down, remembering the painful memories. “Being tortured by HYDRA was painful but this... Y/N, this was something else.”

“I was being tortured by my own self.” He paused, flexing his metal arm. The mechanical whirring made him cringe. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. I was Bucky but my arm was being controlled by someone other than me. Doll, I was so scared. I-if I were to come home, I wouldn’t have had control over hurting you.”

“I couldn’t live with myself, if that happened. If something happened to you, I-” Bucky broke down, voice shaking as he continued his story. “I just couldn’t come home like that.”

You backed away from the door, undoing the locks. You took a deep breath before opening it. Bucky wasn’t expecting it. He fell over once the door he was leaning on, disappeared.

You tried to hold in the giggle that was threatening to escape your throat when you saw the scene in front of you. Bucky, on his face, a hurt expression on his features. He looked up at you and instantly his demeanor changed. Your Bucky.

He smiled, his real smile, despite his glossy, red eyes, He scrambled to get up and face you. Once he was on his feet, he tucked his hands in his front pockets, rocking back and forth. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Buck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

You couldn’t help it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried yourself in his chest. Home. He laughed at the sudden contact, not because of your reaction but because he was genuinely happy. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, picking you up to spin you.

He kicked the front door closed and put you down, breathless from laughing so much. “I missed you.”

You refused to let go of him, your arms still wrapped around him as you looked up to reply. “I missed you more.”

Bucky leaned down and kissed you. You let out a broken cry when you felt his lips move against yours. It’s been too long. You missed this so much. This felt like Bucky. You guys were back.

You two only pulled away from some air, goofy smiles plastered on both of your faces when you did. He connected his forehead with yours, eyes closed, cherishing the moment. Bucky would periodically leave pecks on your cheeks and lips, loving the way you giggled each time he did. He missed your laugh.

“I’m sorry for not listening to your explanation before leaving.” You apologized, genuinely feeling guilty for your actions.

“I don’t blame you.” He admitted, hands finding yours. He played with your fingers, taking extra care with the one in his metal hand. “I’m just so happy you gave me the chance to explain.”

“Didn’t really give me much choice now, didn’t you?” You teased, pulling him back into an embrace. “You show up on my doorstep, two timezones away from where you were.”

“I guess I didn’t.” Bucky kissed the top of your head, letting the scent of your shampoo overtake his senses. That’s all he wanted. To smell you. To touch you. To see you. To taste you. To hear you. You. That’s all he wanted. “I can’t lose my best girl.”

“Always a charmer, Barnes.”

You stared at each other for a moment. There was a shift in the air. For months, both of you were deprived from touch. Bucky was never around and you started to distance from him, neither of you were cruel enough to be touched by someone other than each other. You both knew nobody else could fulfill the touch you both so desperately needed.

Bucky kissed you hungrily, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands clawing down the front of his body. Your teeth tugged softly at his lips, a weakness of his. He groaned a beautiful sound as you pushed him, ushering him into the bedroom.

You woke up next to Bucky. You almost cried at the sight, not being able to remember the last time you saw this image.

Bucky was shirtless, a blanket barely covering his body, hair sprawled out on the pillow, and his mouth slightly, agape. He looked peaceful. His arm was under you, pulling you into his gravity. You could feel his heart thumping against his chest, a rhythm you could listen to forever.

You leaned over to plant a quick kiss to his lips. You meant for it to be quick but his lips attached themselves to yours. You kissed back, smiling through the sweet exchange of love. You squealed as he pulled you closer to him, bare chests pressing against each other. He continued to kiss you for a few more minutes, not wanting to let go.

“I want to wake up like this everyday.” He muttered, eyes still shut. “Just like this.”

“Your eyes aren’t even open yet so technically you haven’t woken up.”

He opened his eyes slowly, stretching his limbs out in the process. He stared at your face, his smile getting wider when he realizes you’re staring at him. Bucky’s eyes dart down to your exposed chest, a dirty smirk replacing the innocent smile he had on before. “I can wake up like this everyday.”

You smacked him across the chest, laughing at his words. “You dirty man.”

“You’re hot, babe.” He defended, pulling you close to his body again. “Take the compliment.”

You cooed in adoration, loving the way warmth radiated off of his body. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Bucky replied, not missing a beat. His fingers started to draw shapes on the small of your back, not missing the way you shivered under his touch. You were always so responsive, even in the most innocent way. “I love you, so much. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.” You said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry for leaving without giving you a chance to explain. I just thought I already lost you.”

“Never,” He murmured. “I just wanted to become the best version of me for you. You deserve that.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” You half-scolded, tilting his head down so he could look into your eyes. “You are the man I fell in love with. I will love you even if it’s the worst version of yourself, you hear me? You are a good man. You will never lose that. I will never lose sight of that.”

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that too.”

You laid there in silence, enjoying the closeness of your bodies. It’s been too long. Bucky looked down at you, head on his chest and wondered if in this lifetime, he’d be able to truly live. Enjoy the love that he watched his parents have. See the world as a tourist with you by his side. Grow old with you and have children and grandchildren and pets, lots of them. He wondered if life would be kind enough to give him the life he’s been yearning for since before the war. He wondered if the void that he’s been trying to fill was in the shape of you. It sure seemed like it.

He laid there frozen, not wanting to disrupt your rest. Your soft snores made Bucky smile. He wasn’t able to sleep without the white noise that he grew to love. The nights he fell asleep without you next to him were some of the worst nights. He wished you were beside him. He wished that even now with you practically laying on top of him. He wanted you closer to him, if that was even possible.

You began to stir, eyes fluttering open for the second time today. “Let’s make breakfast.”

You untangled yourself from him, instantly regretting it. You already missed Bucky’s body next to yours. You quickly slipped on his t-shirt and tossed his boxers on the bed for him to put on. He slipped it on and ran towards you as you put your hair up in a low ponytail. “You’re gonna have to cook with me on top of you.”

You threw your head back laughing, placing one hand over the arms wrapped around your waist. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Once you guys got to the kitchen, Bucky excused himself to go to the bathroom. You merely nodded, engrossed in the directions behind the box of pancake mix. You started to measure the ingredients, plopping the batter on the pan. You hummed to yourself as you waited for the pancakes to brown around the edges.

“Y/N..” Bucky called from the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Mhm?” You responded, still focusing on the pancake in front of you.

“Turn around.”

“What’s up, Buck? I’m making panca-” You turned around, the half cooked pancake on your spatula. “Oh my God.”

The pancake fell off your spatula, a blob of batter staining the kitchen floor. You covered your mouth with your hands.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” Bucky started, raising the velvet box while he was on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You nodded furiously, rushing over to him to kiss him. He got up, grabbing your face in his hands to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, the smile returning to your face. Bucky’s hands shook as he tried to put the ring on your finger. You both took turns wiping the tears off of each other’s faces. “It’s perfect.”

You two stood there, repeating your declarations of love over and over again. The pancake batter was long forgotten. You admired the ring on your finger and the man you would vow to love forever.

Marrying Bucky seemed too good to be true. The love you two shared was something you swore only existed in the movies.

It was the vast ocean, deep and unexplored. It was scary, intimidating, and you don’t know if you’ll make it out of it alive. It’s risky and overwhelming.

But your love was also the first chirp of a bird that you hear after a heavy thunderstorm, reminding you that everything will be okay. It’s the love that reminds you of the beauty in the ugly.

Your love was the moon and the stars, the sun and the clouds, the dew on the blades of grass, the smell of freshly baked cookies. Your love was everything grand. It was the big picture of life, but it was also the details, so simple, so subtle, but it was yours. It’s your love.

It’s indescribable but it makes sense to the two of you. That’s all that mattered.

Your serene moment was interrupted by a synchronized knock on the door. Nat.

You furrowed your eyebrows, motioning Bucky to follow you to open the door. You looked through the peephole to see a distressed Nat. You quickly undid the locks, Bucky right behind you when you opened the door.

Nat took a look at the two of you, her signature smirk appearing on her face. “Nice to see that you two worked it out.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Bucky said sheepishly, his hand finding your hip bone and giving it a squeeze. “What are you doing here?”

Her smirk dropped from her face, her shoulders falling heavy. “We have a problem.”

“What happened?” You asked, leaning against Bucky.

“Thanos.” She stated, nervousness evident in her voice. “Thanos is coming.”

“Y/N, something happened.”

You looked at Steve, dumbfounded. “Is he hurt?”

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, half of all living creatures vanished,” He started, looking down at his feet. “Bucky... Bucky was one of them.”

You shook your head, not believing his words. You repeated the words, “No, that’s not true. “Steve, where is he?” “How do we get him back?” You sobbed violently, Nat having to wrap her arms around you to muffle your cries.

Your head was propped up on Nat’s shoulder, giving you the perfect view of the dimly lit bathroom where you were before Nat and Steve arrived. Your mind thought back to the two small lines you saw on the test. Positive.

You fell apart in her embrace, still not coming to terms with the information they delivered.

Bucky’s not around anymore.

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGS:

I wasn’t sure if you guys wanted to be tagged for the second part, let me know if you guys want to be removed from the taglist for the final part! :)

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bogleech · 4 years

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Okay so full spoilers for the plot of Kipo but I’m going to do a long review of the villain’s backstory under a cut:

Scarlemagne like I said seems like a very simple, hokey villain; he’s a sadistic and hate-filled baboon who wants to rule the world, he has the power to turn any primate into a mindlessly obedient slave with his disgusting pink pheromone sweat, he makes them dress like British aristocrats and he makes everyone dance while he plays the piano in an old shopping mall he thinks of as a glitzy palace. It’s as hilarious as it is terrifying. But then they tell you why, and it’s done so much better than I’ve seen in almost any other series like this.

So, as we learn not that far into this series, Kipo herself is a mutant, basically a werejaguar, specifically a werejaguar whose full jaguar form is godzilla-sized. What she herself finds out is that her parents made her that way, and I love how that’s never a source of angst for her, she loves it!

Maybe you kind of see where this is going though and it won't sound that shocking to find out this is a Mojo Jojo scenario; that Kipo wasn't the only experiment her parents conducted on animals. Originally, they were tasked by their superiors with developing an anti-mutagen, something that would change all the animal life on the surface back into normal creatures and put humans back on top. As part of this experimentation they attempted giving mutation to some of the last remaining natural specimens they had, including a baby baboon, Hugo. But once Hugo started to actually talk, and started learning from them like a human baby, they couldn’t bear to continue the project as intended. They loved their adoptive mutant ape son, they read to him every day, they played with him, they taught him history and science and they hatched a plan to escape with him. All they wanted and all he wanted was to be a family together. However, this was around the same time they were already working on their personal superhuman child experiment, which put their escape plan on hold for nine months. During this time, the bosses found out about Hugo and put him in a small enclosure for their own harsh experimentation. His human parents still visited him every single chance they could, reading him stories in secret, still promising to escape with him. I think the really saddening part is that Hugo is never actually bitter towards the baby coming. In fact he’s still excited about having a sister and being a family with her too. But then there’s a pretty big incident that’s still not necessary to spoil, the result of which is that the whole facility is seemingly destroyed and the parents have to flee with the newly born Kipo. They assume Hugo is dead, but...they don’t really double check or look for him. There’s enough chaos that it’s unfortunately understandable that they just take their baby and run and that everything would probably be one big blur in that situation, but, Hugo did survive, and wait around, and look for them, attacked by monsters and cold and alone, thinking they were dead. After all that, he just kind of incidentally runs into his father with Kipo, and he realizes at least one parent survived but did not come back to look for him, and that’s about the part where he snaps.

What I think is really excellently done here is that, after everything Hugo has done as "Scarlemange," Kipo immediately wants to love him as a long-lost sibling and she’s PISSED about his abandonment. Meanwhile, her father is never just totally vilified for any of it; the narrative acknowledges that he fucked up in a believable way under incredible pressure, he feels deeply guilty and he wants to make it all right as well. And, in turn, while Hugo/Scarlemange refuses to forgive his father and truly shouldn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, he STILL doesn’t hate Kipo, because she was just a baby! His baby sister! She didn’t know and she’s not the one who hurt him! Holy shit a villain who is reasonable about this kind of thing! This dynamic between all three is something I haven’t really seen executed so well before. You can’t really hate anybody involved but you wish they hadn’t made the choices they did. -ONE MORE LAST CHANCE SPOILER WARNING FOR PEOPLE SPOILING THEMSELVES-

Unfortunately, none of that is ultimately enough to really turn this guy around. He’s willing to call off killing thousands of other mutants for Kipo’s sake, but only under the condition that she help him execute their dad instead. It’s a horrifying extra twist and a moment where we (and Kipo) might have to accept that Hugo is beyond saving, but, we still know that there’s a reason for it, and even if what was done to him wasn’t consciously malicious, it still wasn’t really forgivable. The last we ever see of Scarlemagne is being hauled off as a prisoner, but that’s after Kipo saves his life one more time, and there’s no “YOU WERE A FOOL TO LET ME LIVE! MWAHAHA!” moment, no last shot of him glaring from his cage with scary music or anything, he just keeps looking sadly at Kipo and you know he still wishes they all could’ve just been a happy family. I’ve seen hundreds, hundreds of tragic villain backstories. I’d say a majority of them were interesting and gave the villain a sympathetic streak to some degree or another, but I think this one is executed to a pretty uncommon degree of competency. The villain himself is outrageous, while the explanation is subtler and more real-world, and the way he, Kipo, and their father all feel about one another because of it is completely believable even while nothing anyone did is ever just “excusable.”

#cartoons #kipo #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts

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discoscoob · 3 years

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A Second Chance | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

You and Loki remain stubborn, can Donna convince you to give him a chance?

Part Fifteen | Part Seventeen | Chapter Index

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: none

Read on AO3

“So when can we expect you back?” Val asked Thor, from where they were stood on the edge of the settlement of New Asgard, looking at the sea beyond the cliff side.

“About that...” Thor began before Val cut him off.

“Thor, your people need a king.” She sternly reminded him.

“They already have one.” Thor turned to look at her with sincerity, “and she’s a far better king than I could ever be.”

“Are you serious?” Val could hardly believe her ears, there was no way that Thor had just passed the responsibility of the throne down to her, he must have been joking but his face never wavered.

“It’s time to be who I am, rather than who I’m supposed to be. And a leader is who you are.” Thor told Val before his eyes drifted their focus from her as something behind her captured his attention which caused a crease formed between his brows.

Confused by what had distracted Thor, Val mirrored his expression, before she could even follow his line of sight, she felt a cool breeze caress against the back of her neck, which caused her fine hairs to stand on end.

She looked over her shoulder just in time to see a blue wooden box materialising out of thin air, in the near distance behind her.

“What’s this now?” She asked with a tone that told you she had had her fill of strange occurrences for one lifetime.

Once the box had fully materialised, the narrow door swung open with a squeak, which Thor and Val could hear from where they were both stood, and much to their surprise, Loki stepped out into the sun.

Thor immediately looked as though he had seen a ghost, for all he knew he could have been, but it wasn’t the first time his brother would have come back from apparent death, or the second for that matter. Thor didn’t know whether to pull Loki into a bone crushing hug or to throw Mjolnir at his head in order to check that he was truly there.

As if he were on autopilot, he found his feet carrying him towards his brother. The brothers walked across the grass towards one another, but with each step closer, Thor’s pace quickened, until he was charging towards Loki with a battle cry.

Loki’s feet had firmly rooted to the ground as soon as he realised that Thor intended to crash into him, while his eyes widened and he raised his hands innocently.

“No, brother, listen to me.” He began diplomatically, but Thor had no intention of slowing down.

Loki quickly decided that he would rather not be tackled to the ground and began hastily walking backwards, with skilful steps to ensure he didn’t stumble or trip, before he eventually pulled his eyes off of his enraged sibling and made a final sprint back towards the safety of the TARDIS where you, your auntie and the Doctor, observed in confused and concerned silence as Loki ran back around the console, without ever taking his eyes off of the double doors.

Before any of you could question what was wrong, a mighty man came crashing through the doors while growling Loki’s name.

You hadn’t immediately recognised him as Thor, since the last and only time you saw him, he had short hair and most his face had been cast in shadows. The man who crashed into the TARDIS had long knotted hair and a bushy beard which covered half his face.

“Thor, I can explain.” Loki insisted from where he was stood on the other side of the console.

***

“Where’d the hairbag go? We’re meant to be leaving.” A talking raccoon dressed in a vest asked Val, who looked down at the creature with furrowed brows.

“He went chasing after his brother.” Val answered as she looked back towards the blue police box, while the raccoon looked out at the water that lay beyond the cliff which they were stood on.

“Ain’t he dead?” The raccoons face twisted in horror as he assumed Val had used a metaphor to explain that Thor had ran off the cliff edge in order to reunite with his brother.

***

You looked back towards the man who barged into the TARDIS, after Loki had revealed he was Thor, and although he had drastically changed his appearance since the last time you saw him, which was only a few hours ago, you began to pick up on recognisable features which told you undoubtedly that he was, in fact, Thor.

“What sorcery is this?” Thor asked, as he looked around the spacious control room, which was much larger than the small box he had followed his brother into.

“Not sorcery, science.” The Doctor corrected him as he casually strolled across his control room.

“I know you,” Thor drew his brows together as he pointed one of his fingerless glove clad fingers at the time lord, “you were with Loki in New York.”

Thor glanced towards you and your auntie and you saw recognition settle across his eyes, indicating he remembered the both of you as well.

“Loki healed you.” Thor pointed the same finger at you and you felt as though a spotlight had been shone on you, as you shrank away from the attention. The Loki who had healed you was no longer here, he was also the Loki who saved his brothers life and he didn’t even know it, you decided to change that.

“Loki and I were together,” you began to explain, you didn’t miss the way Thor’s eyes widened as he looked between you and the other Loki who was silently watching his brothers reaction. “When you and all the Avengers travelled back in time, Loki managed to escape with the Tesseract after he was captured in New York.”

“No,” Thor shook his head, as he looked back towards Loki, “I took you back to Asgard, father banished you to the dungeons.”

Loki opened his mouth to explain but you beat him to it, regaining Thor’s attention.

“The Time Variants Authority arrested Loki because he wasn’t meant to escape from New York, afterwards they restored the timeline, it was as if he never left, everything was put back to normal, but this variant of Loki still existed. That’s who I met, that is the Loki you met in the alleyway in New York, that is the Loki who you saw get killed by Thanos.” By the time you finished explaining your eyes were glossy as tears had gathered on your waterline and you quickly excused yourself, before you broke down in front of everyone, and rushed off to the privacy of your own room.

“I don’t understand.” Thor spoke once you had left, he looked between Loki, the Doctor and Donna for further explanation.

Loki stepped around from the protection of the console and approached his brother as he explained.

“There was another version of me on the refuge ship, he managed to grab me during the commotion and knock me unconscious and take my place. He saved both your life and mine. Afterwards I woke up here, on the floor of this ship, with a head full of brand new memories which I had never experienced.” By the time Loki had finished explaining he was stood right before his brother, who by now had tears gathered in his own eyes as they took in Loki’s appearance. He looked exactly as he had the last time Thor saw him, he was wearing the same outfit, his hair was the same length and he even had the same marks of dirt and ash smudged on his face.

Without hesitation Thor pulled Loki into his chest. At first Loki was startled by the sudden show of affection and flinched, but he soon relaxed into his brothers hold and slowly brought his own arms across Thor’s broad back to return his embrace. Loki did his best to ignore his brothers scratchy beard irritating his neck as Thor hooked his chin over his shoulder.

While the brothers were sharing a moment, Donna quietly slipped out of the control room, she encouraged the Doctor to make himself scarce as well by subtly waving her hand in a ‘come here’ motion by her side. He didn’t need to be told twice, as he never knew what to do with himself when others were sharing a moment in front of him, escaping was the best option.

Once the pair were in the corridor Donna informed the Doctor that she was going to check on you and the Doctor escaped once again, as he diverted down another corridor, leaving Donna to seek you out on her own.

The very first place she checked for you was your bedroom and that’s exactly where you were, sat quietly on the foot of your bed as you fidgeted with your hands over your lap. You were no longer crying, she noticed, but you still made the occasional sniffle which indicated that you had only stopped not so long ago.

Donna didn’t say anything as she apprehensively invited herself into the room, she treated the space delicately, as if the slightest movement would destroy it like a house of cards, her feet barely made a sound as she tip toed towards you and the springs of your mattress squeaked as faintly as a mouse as she lowered herself down right by your side.

“It’s nice that Loki reunited with his brother.” Donna kept her voice soft and gentle, as anything else would have felt inappropriate in that moment.

You simply nodded your head in response as you kept your eyes focused on your intertwined hands over your lap.

“I see the way you look at this new Loki,” Donna mused and you lifted your head in interest of her observations. “Like he killed your cat and then pissed in your cornflakes.”

You only huffed and lowered your head.

“The only reason he is alive is because my Loki isn’t.” You shook your head. “I think I am allowed to be, at the very least, a little bit resentful of that.”

“That’s fair.” Donna nodded, “but you have also been offered something a lot of people would kill for.”

“And what’s that?” You asked through a cynical scoff of a laugh, wondering what kind of silver lining Donna could have possibly found in this situation.

“A second chance.” She answered as if it were obvious.

You let her words settle between the two of you as you pondered over them for a moment before you eventually shook your head, with an unreadable expression.

“Even if I wanted it, which I don’t, he has already told me he isn’t interested.” You told your auntie.

“He said that to you?” Donna leaned towards you, almost as if she couldn’t believe what you were telling her and when you confirmed it with a nod, she wrapped her hand around yours and rose from your bed, muttering something under her breath you didn’t quite catch as she pulled you along with her.

You were beyond mortified as you stumbled along behind her while she lead you out of your bedroom and down the corridor in the direction of the control room.

***

When Thor pulled back from the embrace, he held Loki by his shoulders, while Loki maintained a stiff exterior with tense shoulders as he stared at his brother with narrowed eyes and his brows pulled into a frown.

“What?” Loki prompted Thor when he could sense that he was thinking something.

“I never thought I would see the day that my brother, the God of Mischief, would court a midgardian.” Thor smiled, a proud smile to which Loki rolled his eyes and stepped back from his hold.

“Not me, the other Loki. Why would I have any interest in a midgardian I barely know?” Loki explained as he avoided looking at Thor in favour of inspecting the console, which caused him to miss Thor’s frown.

“The other you put those memories in your mind for a reason and you’re just going to throw it all away?” Thor followed Loki around the console, trying to encourage him to meet his eyes.

“She doesn’t want me here anyway.” Loki admitted which made Thor’s face twist with offence on his brothers behalf.

“When did she tell you that?” Thor asked his brother and Loki quickly realised that this bothered Thor far more than it had bothered him, but he allowed his brother to have his moment.

“Just before.” Loki answered with little interest, what he didn’t expect was for Thor’s hand to wrap around his wrist in order to drag him deeper into the TARDIS.

Loki dug his heels into the ground in an attempt to halt his brother, while his protests fell on deaf ears.

“Thor, you’re behaving like a barbarian. This is humiliating. I don’t even want to stay here.” Loki tried to get through to his older brother but it was no use.

When Loki heard your voice echoing down the corridor, he silenced his protests so he could hear what you were saying.

“Donna, stop! It doesn’t matter, I couldn’t care less about what he thinks.” He heard you tell your auntie, as your footsteps grew closer.

Eventually the four of you collided at a corner where two corridors met and before either you or Loki could speak, Donna and Thor were talking over each other.

“My brother tells me you don’t make him feel welcome here.”

“Why are you telling my niece you’re not interested in her?”

“Because it’s true.” Loki answered matter-of-factly, while at the same time you said, “I didn’t mean to make him feel unwelcome, it’s just- it’s not exactly easy to be around him.”

“She at least deserves a chance.” Donna had immediately answered Loki, at the same time you spoke.

“I’m not here to fill the place her Loki left behind.” Loki answered Donna just as you told her, “Donna, just drop it!”

“Then why did he give you all his memories?” Donna ignored you and Thor backed up her argument, “that’s what I said! The other Loki wanted you to have his memories for a reason.”

“Whatever his reason was doesn’t matter, it is entirely my choice what I decide to do with them.” Loki insisted. “Now my brother and I will be on our way.”

“No.” Thor spoke in a low tone, which caused Loki to freeze halfway through his turn to march away.

“What now?” Loki sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“I can’t let you throw this away without giving it a chance.” Thor told his brother.

“What are you suggesting, brother.” Loki turned around to face Thor with a tilt of his head.

“I will refuse to let you leave with me unless you give this a fair chance. Just explore his memories a little, get to know the person the other version of yourself fell for, perhaps there will still be something there for the both of you.”

You and Loki remained silent as you both thought about Thor’s suggestion, although it felt wrong to ‘replace’ your Loki, he had given him his memories and told you to take care of him, perhaps giving him a chance was the fair thing to do for the both of you but you didn’t dare show any reaction to Thor’s ultimatum on the surface.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” Loki feigned politeness, as he took his brother by the crook of his elbow and pulled him a few paces down the corridor where they began talking with their backs turned to you and Donna.

“Are you out of your mind, I said I don’t want to stay here, why can’t I just go with you?” Loki muttered under his breath to his brother.

“The other you developed these friendships, he had a relationship and I think he wanted you to have them or at least have the chance to explore them and how do you know you won’t one day regret walking away from them? At least if you give it a try, you won’t forever be asking yourself ‘what if?’” Thor whispered back.

“This is a terrible idea.” Loki protested, “I already know I will hate it.”

“Just take her on one date. If it doesn’t change your mind-”

“It won’t change my mind.”

“If it doesn’t change your mind, then you can leave. I think that’s fair.” Thor told him and Loki contemplated it with a swift glance towards you from over his shoulder.

“Fine.” Loki answered with a sigh.

“You won’t regret it.” Thor patted Loki’s shoulder with a smile, which his brother responded to with a glare.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki imagine #doctor who #thor #donna noble #tenth doctor #10th doctor #tom hiddleston #valkyrie marvel

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m19writes4mlb · 3 years

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Defenceless - Chapter 1

Summary: When things become too much, one can feel trapped. Adrien becomes acquainted with this concept, and decides to break away for a while.

Chapter: 1/?

Word Count: 1611

Rating: T

Adrien is familiar with the feeling of helplessness. He has never had much control over his life. There is almost always someone dictating what his next step should be. Rarely does he get to decide his own fate, so he isn’t surprised by the fact that his first relationship seems to be about to end for circumstances beyond his control.

Kagami is a wonderful girl. She is smart, driven, determined, pretty, and comes from a similar background. Plus, she is more socially inept than him, which is both a blessing and a curse. To an outsider's eyes, Adrien and Kagami were a perfect match. However, no outsider had a clear picture of who he is; thus, subtracting validity to their assessments.

He isn’t just Adrien Agreste, professional model and sweet, picture perfect son of France’s top designer Gabriel Agreste. He is also one half of Paris’s beloved superhero duo: brave, dorky, flirty, and confident Chat Noir. That being said, neither one truly encapsulates Adrien’s full essence on their own. He is something in between, an amalgamation of his personas.

The truth was that no one was privy to his true self. He feared what whoever was the first person to truly see it would think. To Adrien, rejection and ridicule were scarier than anything else. Thus, he developed a fool-proof strategy to never have to deal with them. He never showed the entirety of himself. He hid behind masks, all of them carefully designed with just enough truth to be believable. Adrien Agreste could bend and mold himself into exactly what the person he was with wanted him to be. Even so, this came with a strong draw back. When one focuses on pleasing those around them and spends all their time behind masks, they forget what it is that really lies beneath the façade.

Most of the time, not knowing what his real self was didn’t really bother him; he took it in stride. He viewed it as something that with time would solve itself. Nevertheless, when situations like his current one took place, he realised just how much damage not knowing one’s self could really cause.

Looking back on it, he now realises that even though he cared about Kagami deeply, he did not love her. Sure, he felt a special connection to her. After all, none of his other friends could understand his home life like Kagami could. He admired her deeply. She is a go-getter with a can-do attitude. She fears nothing, and never hesitates. He holds her on high regards, but he can now see that that is where his feelings for her end.

Adrien had hurt Kagami. He gradually and painfully broke her heart and did not realise that was the case until it was too late. He couldn’t see how much he was putting Kagami through, until her trust in him was almost completely gone. After all, if Kagami still trusted him, she would not have set that trap using the lucky charm Marinette gave him. Kagami was perceptive, and she knew Adrien was holding something from her. She gave him a final chance to come clean, but he simply could not explain himself. It was his deception that got Kagami akumatized again. He felt like her akumatization was on him, regardless of how out of his hand that affair was.

Each mask came with responsibilities for Adrien as the wearer, and the Chat Noir mask came with the biggest one. Even if he wished to show his true self to anyone, he couldn’t. Being one of Paris’s protectors required anonymity. He didn’t want to lie to Kagami. Even if in hindsight he could tell that their relationship was a stagnant one, Adrien would have loved to at least clear the air between himself and Kagami. She deserved an explanation, but he just could not provide one, not without putting her in danger and Paris on the line.

Adrien Agreste was tired. He didn’t want to have be perfect all the time. He was exhausted of always being told what to do. Not having any control over anything in his life was slowly wearing him out. He was teetering over the edge, and needed a reprieve. The only moments when he can let go, are when he is clad in a leather cat-suit. Considering the fact that said outfit comes with the duty of keeping Paris safe, it is certainly concerning to say that when he donned it is when he feels the freest.

Adrien was looking out of his bedroom windows when the severity of everything that transpired that day hit him. His hands went to grab onto his hair and a frustrated groan escaped him as he fell to his knees. He wanted to scream, cry, kick, and punch. His skin felt prickly. Air felt as though it was in short supply. He was restless, yet couldn’t move. He kept so much bottled up and hidden. Adrien felt like he was going to explode.

After what felt like hours but could just as easily have been seconds, Adrien stood up. His countenance became stony and unreadable as he let the words out, “Plagg, claws out”.

Chat Noir ran. He ran as fast as he could. He needed to get away, away from a neglecting home, away from endless responsibilities, away from the wounds he caused, away from his castle of lies. The further he moved, the easier breathing became.

Chat had no destination in mind. He just knew he wanted to escape, at least for a small while. He traversed the rooftops of Paris. His run was tense with rigid yet erratic movements. His turns were sharp and his pace gruelling. Chat wanted to burn. He had hurt someone dear to him. He deserved to feel at least a fraction of her pain.

The cool night’s breeze unrepentantly hit Chat Noir’s face, alerting him of the wetness beneath his eyes. His lungs felt as though they were on fire. His legs felt ready to fall off. He didn’t stop. He pushed himself harder.

A leap approached, for he was about to reach the end of the rooftop he currently found himself in. His legs were begging for respite, but he reproached it. He pushed himself off the ground and flew. His body however refused to keep enduring abuse.

Chat’s right leg does not stick the landing. His right shoulder takes the brunt of his fall, making him hiss. His momentum makes him roll around the rooftop. He stops and lies face-up. He lets out an embittered scream. His hands fly to his hair and pull hard in a pitiful attempt to ground himself. He pants heavily and stares at the sky.

Slowly, his breathing evens out. Chat sits up and brings his knees to his chest. He hides his face behind them, and lets sobs wrack his body as his tears run freely. He embraces his despair and agony. He feels horrible about himself, and for once, instead of keeping it all in, he lets it all out.

He stays like that for a while, impossible for him to say how long for with exactitude. He cries until he’s got no more tears left. Once the burden he carries feels at least a little lighter, he looks up.

Twinkling lights on a familiar balcony a few blocks away catch his attention. He stares curiously. It was 22:00 when he left his home. He is certain it has been a good while since he did. He knew Marinette was a night owl, but it seems like an odd time to be outside on her balcony, especially given how cold it was tonight. He studied his friend’s silhouette more closely. She was leaning on her railing, resting her cheek on one of her hands. She appeared deep in thought as she gazed into the horizon. Overall, she appeared quite dejected.

Marinette is one of the most amazing people he knows. She’s a beautiful, kind, gentle soul who is willing to do whatever it takes to help those she cares about out. She’s his Everyday Ladybug.

Lately, she has been having a rough time. Even though Marinette hasn’t said anything about it, Adrien could see how the circles underneath her eyes were growing darker every day. He could see how his bubbly friend who lit up every room she walked into was withering.

He could see Alya was becoming more and more concerned about her best friend. He could see how her boyfriend Luka got more and more restless asking her to let him in. Her friends kept trying to reach out, but Marinette kept pushing away with one excuse or another. Adrien knew something was wrong with her, but he had no clue what to say to her. If neither her best friend nor boyfriend seemed to be able to do anything about it, what could he do?

Adrien only knew one thing. His friend should never feel low. Marinette Dupain-Cheng deserved the world and then some. She was an ever-burning flame whose warmth uplifted everyone around her. That flame was getting extinguished, and a world without her light was not something Adrien wanted to see. Thus, he decided that he was simply not going to allow that to happen.

Feeling slightly better after his cathartic break down, Chat stood up with renewed purpose. He had hurt someone he cared about today, that was a wrong he couldn’t right anytime soon. He’s being given the chance to help someone else who is dear to him, to at least restore some sort of balance in the world. He’d be damned if he didn’t take it.

Chapter 2 →

Author's Note

So as I said in my introductory post, I am posting my works here and on AO3. I chose to do this because I feel like it is easier to interact with readers in here. I am more than happy to answer questions and reply to your comments.

Ko-fi

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #marichat #adrienette #ladynoir #MLB Defenceless #MLB S4 #ladrien #love square #mlb fanfic

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missmaxime · 3 years

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Thoughts on the Death flashbacks: Having rewatched the episode again I really do feel like these flashbacks are a lead-in to the end of Beth and Dean’s relationship. I think it’s important to note when the three flashbacks are placed in the episode: right before and or after we focus solely on Beth, like she is reminiscing these three moments in time with him. Times she has fond memories of for good reasons, but at the same time show us the cracks in their relationship that we still see now. What are these pivotal moments? - Beth meets Dean for the first time - Dean asks Beth to prom - Dean meets Beth in the hospital on Prom Night #1 Lead-in to this flashback is the moment just seconds before Beth meets Dean while he’s in jail. Everything between them is at an absolute low, there’s even physically a wall between them. I’m not surprised they counter their burned out relationship by the exact moment it once ignited. Beth tries to remind herself in this episode about the good moments, but I think it’s also very telling those are moment from the first months of when they met – and not, say, when they got their first apartment, or had their first baby, or got married. In the flashback Dean strikes up conversation with Beth while his buddies start a food fight at the diner (Dairy Queen) she works at – perhaps even with an ulterior motive of distracting her while they wreak havoc. He does so by asking for a refill for something ridiculous, because if you’re not Ikea who gives refills for ice cream? But he’s got her attention. And if that attention was genuinely geared towards wooing her he could even have gone the corny way of complimenting her eyes, or her bright smile – but he chooses to focus on the fact that she’s a cheerleader.

This gets interrupted by his friends getting into the food fight, and Beth calls out for him to say something to his friends. In answer he joins into the fight and runs off with said friends, leaving Beth to clean the mess. A little later he returns (and with this, he also doesn’t lose face with his friends) to charm her with an apology and helping her out to clean the mess him and his friends made. Which, as we know, has been a recurring theme between them way into the future. (Not to fangirl out to much about this, but I’m living for the fact that Dean calls her Elizabeth at first, but when she correct him to Beth he goes with that. While Rio called her Elizabeth from the start, and she never corrected him on that.) It’s not hard to see why Beth falls for Dean here, even if we can see the patterns because we know the Beth and Dean from decades later. He’s handsome, witty, popular, the quarterback – and he’s interested in her. Sees her. While he’s the one who made the mess, he cleans it up, telling her that ‘he’s got it’. Something he can do now with spilled food, but we know he can’t when messes become grown-up messes. After the flashback we’re back in the jail, looking at Beth’s reflection in the glass as she stares at herself before Dean takes place in front of her. He’s understandably hurt and upset her actions got him there (and even more because she admits Rio was a part of the scheme all along). Even her voicing a desperate ‘I love you’ doesn’t make him stay, he’s done with her. She says she’ll ‘Fix it’ like Dean promised her in the flashback, but he’s not having it. In the final shot we zoom out, framing Beth with darkness – counter to the flashback where we zoom in on her smiling face. #2 Leading up to the second flashback Phoebe questions Dean, and tries to bribe him with some packs of ramen to tempt him into selling out Beth. She talks about the cheerleader she used to be friends with in high school, and how she got tossed aside when the girl didn’t have any use for her anymore when her Fake ID got taken away. Phoebe talks about how the girl is like Beth, using people and tossing them aside when they’re tired of them – Dean knows very well that’s not Beth at all, not in the context of him at least. In the flashback Dean comes to Beth’s house, where we learn he’s been leaving her a lot of messages. This is 1991 so we’re on analog phone time, not giving Beth an opportunity to see some caller ID, so if she doesn’t want to talk to Dean I don’t feel like it’s weird that Annie answered the phone to hear who’s calling. Annie’s obviously not a fan of him, but we don’t know whether that is because they’ve had some sort of fight or whether she doesn’t like the idea of Beth having a boyfriend altogether. I think this flashback really shows how both Dean and Beth are people who are very image-focused people, albeit for different reasons. Dean arrives in a flashy red sportscar to enhance his popular quarterback persona, Beth chooses to have the conversation outside to shield the outside world from the dire situation on the inside. Again Dean focuses on how Beth is not there for him. He called her five times, but doesn’t ask if she has something going on, or if she’s studying hard for a test, or if any of her friends are in trouble. He states that ‘she hasn’t been to any of the games’ – HIS games, not even shifting it to ‘I didn’t see you with your squad’. It’s all about him. His ‘I thought we were cool?’ entices her to come up with an excuse, doubling down with a ‘I don’t want to be a dick’, even if he clearly already is. Annie steps out of the house, visibly sporting yet another injury (she had her arm in a cast in the 2x08 flashback) and asks Beth about their mom’s meds. Two things Dean could just ask about, even if it’s just a flippant ‘oh, is your mom sick?’ or ‘did that monster hurt herself?’ because both could be explanations on why Beth hasn’t called him back. Yet he ignores all this and goes back to making her feel bad by putting the blame on him, casually working in the ‘oh I was going to ask you to prom?’ in a way like don’t bother if you’re not interested. It’s so unromantic the way he drops this, yet Beth latches on immediately because it’s a chance to do some normal teen stuff for a change and who can blame her if her days are spend taking care of her mom, raising her sister, going to school in the day and working a job in the evening. It’s a tactic Dean keeps using on her as an adult. Scene that comes to mind is that Dean already packed his bag, admits that he cheated on Beth with Gayle, and she’s like - fine, maybe don’t leave. Back in the jail Beth waits for him, but Dean has left a clear message that he doesn’t want to see her. #3 First we watch the girls wait for Eric to get arrested, but we all know how disastrous that ends. Her plan to frame Dean’s friend for her wrongdoings falls through, she failed him. Which piles onto the guilt that Dean’s in jail in the first place. It’s then she searches her brain for a moment when he was there for her, when she truly started feeling that he was going to be her rock. Beth’s waiting in the hospital, she’s not panicked or worried, rather annoyed and tired like this is yet the millionth time she’s here because her mother needed her stomach pumped. We still don’t know for sure what’s going on with the mom, but from 2x08 we know she spends lots of time laying in bed and needs meds, the stomach pumping indicates overuse of a drug (most common alcohol) – I’m leaning to depression combined with substance abuse – but we don’t know for sure. We also learn that the dad is not in the picture, or no one to rely on in the very least. It’s just Beth and Annie. Dean bribed Annie to tell him where Beth is – it’s prom night and he came to pick her up to go to the dance. Now there’s more than one way to read this scene. The first way is that Dean is genuinely concerned about this whole ordeal and he wants to be there for Beth, which is definitely the way young Beth must read into this. Another part of me thinks there’s some self-interest from Dean mixed in as well. If he didn’t go to Beth, he’d go to the prom, dateless – embarrassing for our quarterback star. But helping out your girlfriend with her sick mom is a great excuse to avoid that situation. We know how upset Dean got about being wifeless at the Spa Competition, Beth’s an asset to his image, her not being there breaks his image down. And I’m not saying he’s not interested in her, but from all the conversations we’ve seen them have in the flashbacks none of it really revolves around how Beth is doing. From the start their relationship has been around transactions. Image, deeds, quid pro quo. Even if you can read the ‘do you want anything from the vending machine?’ and the ‘your sister took all my money’ as something fun, it’s yet another reminder that he paid for her time. That she owes him, even if she really appreciates him being there for her. Back to Beth in the car with Eric and the girls, where our girl looks more than unhappy. Like Dean paid Annie to see her, she’s paying Eric to see Dean. Granted the stakes are immensely higher, but the juvenile situation carries on into the presence. While Eric comes up with even more terrible plans Beth’s getting increasingly emotional – which still could be interpreted many ways but I think she realizes that the normal from back then, the happiness Dean provided to her, it’s never coming back – plans executed correctly or not. Dean might still be that guy, but she’s not that girl anymore. Eric talks about how he’s invisible, and how that changed when Dean became his colleague. How beforehand no one saw him as him, but Dean made him feel like he was part of the work crew, called him by his name – it made him feel seen, made him feel like a real person. And that’s of course exactly what young Beth was feeling – she didn’t feel like a real person because no one saw her as Beth the teenage girl. She’s a caretaker for her mom, a mother figure to Annie – a cheerleader to Dean. But in the memory she can recognize that he made her feel like a real person. Eric proposes that ‘They don’t make ‘em like Dean Boland anymore’. And they don’t for him. But Beth also knows that the feeling wears off, that at some point Dean Boland won’t like you anymore when you don’t play the part he signed on for. Eric’s giving up everything to be a loyal friend, like Beth has for over two decades to be his loyal wife. And while she’s technically still his wife, she’s not loyal like she used to be – not financially, physically or emotionally. She doesn’t need Dean anymore to make her feel like a real person. She’s her own real person. --- Beth comes home to Fitzpatrick lounging in her kitchen like he belongs there, helping himself to a cup of tea. Our girl is already on edge what with the father of her kids possibly spending years behind bars, her plans miserably failing, and now this douche want even more of her time. She’s done playing a part to get what she needs, so she goes right to the point. Fitz touches on that she wants more out of her life, which is true. Unfortunately for him Beth has come to the point that no man – not like Dean did in the flashbacks – will do that for her anymore. She’s the one steering the ship, not some guy anymore. But while all these flashbacks Beth is experiencing might put some things in a different light to her, it doesn’t scrub away what Dean made her feel. Because he is the father of her kids, they are what will forever link them together, the connection they both care about deeply regardless of whatever troubled feelings they have towards each other. She might not be a true wife to him anymore, but they are parents to the same children. Her dad wasn’t there for her, but there’s no reason why Dean can’t be there for his kids. ---- So all in all I actually really liked seeing the flashbacks, especially because we experience them through Beth, and how they parallel with the now. In the final scene we see Phoebe looking at the perfect Boland family picture, the perfect image that they both crafted together. But hidden on the backside are the lies and the deceit, yet also Beth telling Dean how to take care of said family. Because she knows she can’t trust him to take care of it, unlike when they were teens and when she’d like to believe he could. Their real personas are on the table, and they don’t like each other anymore, can’t trust each other anymore. To me the final scenes read like the only thing they can still be: parents. I have no doubt they both love their kids, and those four humans will always bind them together, regardless of their relationship status. Beth is giving Dean the only genuine thing she can: her trust as a mutual parent, and the opportunity to enjoy the love of their kids. But it’s laced with melancholy, this is what’s left in the ruins, these four good things. Everything else is gone, and I think they both realize this.

#gg spoilers #4x03 #nbc good girls #meta #analysis #am i avoiding work #maybe?#beth x dean #also please end this torture #they both deserve better #or different in the very least #the fire has burned out

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bytheangell · 3 years

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Do Right By Us

(s02e19 inspired fic / extended scene) (Read on AO3)

Raphael doesn’t like this. To be fair, there isn’t a lot about the political side of running a clan that Raphael does like most of the time, but this? Watching his oldest friend side with the Seelie Queen not out of a place of rationality but of reactionary heartache? To watch Magnus, of all people, stand at the Queen’s right hand and leave with her after the meeting without so much as a single word of explanation or apology?

Raphael doesn’t like this at all.

That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, though. He and Lucien see the necessity of it, as much as they may not like the lengths to which the Queen is taking it. It’s what their people want right now. It’s what their people need.

Raphael doesn’t leave with Magnus and the Seelie Queen, despite not arguing against their points in the discussion with the Shadowhunters - though perhaps ‘discussion’ is giving the one-sided declaration of the way things will be from now on too much credit. It was more of a blind-siding of poor Mr. Lightwood, and even Raphael felt bad for the boy when he saw the look on Alexander’s face back there when Magnus deferred to the Queen instead of speaking to him.

Raphael, as well as Lucien, want to make sure the Shadowhunters they care about know that they aren’t completely turning their backs on them. That this is simply a necessary evil at the moment. Alexander understands when Lucien explains things a little more, and Raphael is surprised to hear a Nephilim agree that it doesn’t matter as long as one side gets Valentine. Raphael’s tempted to say something to Alexander, maybe to reassure him that Magnus will come around with time, but Raphael is increasingly unsure of that. He’s never seen Magnus this way before, and he can’t tell if that’s for better or worse just yet. The last thing Raphael wants is to offer false hope, especially when none of them know who will still be standing on the other end of all this.

Unfortunately for Raphael, it’s still daylight, and with Magnus gone and unable to portal him out it would seem that he may be stuck at the Institute for longer than he originally planned. He’s starting to look for a quiet place to avoid having an awkward conversation with Alexander - about Magnus or anything else - when a Lightwood he’s much keener to talk with makes her way over to him.

Now, this is a conversation Raphael is more than willing to have. Ever since he found out that Sebastian is actually Jonathan, he’s cursed himself for letting the Morgenstern boy influence his actions regarding Isabelle. He let Jonathan’s words get inside his head, allowed the doubt in just long enough to further complicate things between himself and Isabelle, and that isn’t something he’s going to be quick to forgive himself for.

It is, however, something he can be quicker to try and fix.

“I’m truly sorry. For everything. Our worlds turned against each other, it’s… It’s not quite how I pictured our paths would cross again.”

This isn’t the best time or place for this conversation, but it’s the best he has at the moment. If things go south with Valentine it may be the only time he has for it, so he’s determined to make it count. He needs to say it now in case it’s the last chance he gets.

“How did you picture it?” Isabelle asks.

The answer is too numerous to describe. He imagined her showing up at the Dumort even after he walked away from her before. He imagined himself showing up here under much better circumstances, to apologize and confess that he still has feelings and maybe whisk Isabelle off on a date. He imagined them just crossing paths in the streets of the city, always destined to cross, to encounter, to be part of each other’s lives.

He doesn’t say any of that, because none of it is important.

“I made a mistake, Isabelle. And whatever there is between us… it’s not just about craving each other’s blood.” Raphael needs her to know that. He needs her to understand that Sebastian - Jonathan - was wrong. That the excuses he made to stay away from her were wrong. That he was wrong. Maybe if he’d stayed the last time they saw each other, maybe if they had an actual conversation, things would be different now.

Maybe they still could be.

“I know. I know.” Isabelle’s tone is reassuring, but there’s something else there… a deep-seated regret at the reality of their situation, because she knows as well as he does that knowing something is true and being able to act on that knowledge are two different things.

“Well, if there's any good that comes out of being at the brink of war it’s being able to stand here, in front of you.” Raphael’s words are meant to spark a more personal conversation, but his desire to be in her company isn’t the part of that statement Isabelle latches onto.

“Do you really think it’s gonna come down to war?” Isabelle’s mind is still on wars and strategies, focused on the words the Seelie Queen spoke while the rest of the Downworld representatives sat silently beside her.

“If the Downworld stays the course, and refuses to work with the clave, that could be a violation of the Accords.” Raphael wishes he had a more hopeful answer to share, except his thoughts are already elsewhere. He knows that the Queen’s actions are important; arguably more important than any of his personal feelings… but he can’t help selfishly steering the conversation back to them.

“This may be the last time we see one another until this is all over. Maybe longer, depending on how everything plays out. And in case I’m not around on the other side of that-”

“Raphael, stop. You can’t talk like that,” Isabelle interrupts. It’s so tempting to stop, to live in a fantasy mindset that there will be plenty of time for this later, to not imagine the worst.

“I have to, Isabelle, because it’s the truth and you deserve to know the truth. The cravings faded but my feelings never did, and I need you to know that. I need you to know how much I still care for you. I never stopped - I couldn’t. And I don’t want to.”

A heavy pause hangs between them, the sounds of orders being given, constant footsteps, and the low hum of technology from the Ops Room behind them filling what would otherwise be silence.

“I feel the same,” Isabelle finally admits.

Raphael smiles. It feels out of place to allow himself to feel joy, given everything happening around him, but he’s done denying his emotions. It would’ve been enough for her to know how he feels, whether she returns the feeling or not. But it’s still nice to know he isn’t alone in this.

“Too bad there isn’t anything we can do about it right now,” Isabelle adds, wiping the smile off his face. She’s right, of course. They’re on the brink of potential war, on different sides of a very serious divide right now, and it isn’t as if he can simply invite her over for dinner later, or meet up at the Hunter’s Moon for drinks.

“We can put a stop to this once and for all before things get out of hand on either side,” Raphael says, the words delivered with such conviction that it almost sounds easy. “We do right by our people,” he says, thinking of Magnus and his Clan. “And then we can do right by us.”

Now Isabelle’s the one who smiles, and if Raphael commits the image to memory even though he silently prays it isn’t the last time he gets to see it.

“I like the sound of that.”

#rizzy #raphael santiago #Isabelle Lightwood #shadowhunters #listen i couldn't /not/ latch onto the rare-pair crumbs in this episode okay #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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my-arlington-academia · 3 years

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Cliffany (Claire×Tiffany) part 1

Hello there!!! It’s been a while. Yes, you’re not dreaming, this is a crackship fanfiction between Claire and Tiffany from sweet elite. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and posted it on the Dulcet discord server. I’ve decided to post them on tumblr if anyone is interested (or not, that’s fine too.)

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"Cut the bullshit, Claire. I told you to stop sticking to me like glue!"

Tiffany was tired of it. No matter how many times she showed Claire how terrible she can be and how her words can cut deep, Claire kept coming back to her, looking for an explanation that doesn’t exist. Saying nonsensical one-liners like "are you really okay?" Or "You can talk to me if you need someone to listen." Tiffany found it pretty funny at first. Like, she could do any atrocity and this blond haired dumbass would come back to her anyway, thinking that she had some issues that needed fixing or something. After a while though, this shtick got annoying real quick. It was like Claire was completely unaware of who she was talking to and was blindly following the childish belief that everyone is kind and understanding on the inside.

"I’m just worried about you Tiffany, you keep pushing people away from you. That’s not good for your mental health. If you have troubles you can share them with someone..."

Tiffany sighed in exasperation. Was this girl senseless? Is that it?

"Listen here. I know you like to believe that everyone is good deep down but that’s not always the case. Not to mention, we’re not exactly close, you and I. If I wanted to "share" anything, it wouldn’t be with you."

"But..."

Claire’s eyes wavered for a second and she looked around, checking to see if there’s anyone nearby.

"...Honestly, the reason why I’m offering is because I don’t feel like you have anyone truly close to you. At least not in Arlington."

"Excuse me?"

One of the things that pissed Tiffany the most about Claire was that she could say the most insulting things with the best intentions, without any ounce of malice.

"Ha. And you’re the one to say this? You’re pretty much a wannabe psychiatrist who goes around being a punching bag for your classmates. People rely on you when they need you, but really? They don’t give a shit about you, honey."

Somehow, Claire’s gaze stayed on Tiffany, unchanging. This made her want to be meaner, more vicious, strike the parts she’s sensitive about. Claire was known to be patient like a saint and understanding like a mother. How nice would it be to finally put this dumb bitch in her place? Tiffany wanted to get a reaction from her, not only to make her leave but also because she was kind of interested to see what face she would make when she got upset.

"Oh, my apologies. What I told you just now, you were already aware of it, weren’t you? That you’re only needed as long as you’re useful. You might think that people like you Claire, but don’t get the wrong idea. You’re only useful, not lovable. Tell me about it sometime, how is it to be a walking doormat?"

Tiffany could feel it. Despite the fact that Claire’s expression still hasn't changed, there was a certain glow forming in her eyes. If she went on for long enough, she may be able to get the reaction she wanted.

"...Are you done, Tiffany? Can we talk like two civilized people now?"

"Hm. What was that? Do I hear some bitterness there, Miss I-Have-A-Savior-Complex? You probably got a lot of praise, huh? For your stupid speech at the department competition with your whole "people gather in front of misfortune" bullshit. Or- Ah! How could I forget, you also volunteer at the city’s hospital during weekends, right? You get all the praise and credit needed to get into Gold Tier even though all you really want is acknowledgement for your sorry existence."

Claire grabbed her skirt’s hem and kept tugging at it, looking down. In reality, Tiffany knew that there was no ill-will whatsoever behind Claire’s benevolent actions towards the people she took care of at the hospital. That was, however, the reason why she was so pissed right now. Instead of protesting against those baseless insults, Claire kept her silence, swallowing up her pride, waiting for this storm of verbal abuse to be over. At this point, Tiffany’s small conscience was telling her to stop. Yet, she couldn’t. Not now, not when she was getting closer and closer to results. And so, she kept pushing, wondering when Claire will finally talk back.

"Is that really what you think of me, Tiffany?"

"What’s wrong? Are you unable of taking any criticism, Claire? Or maybe you’re not used to being called out for your BS. You want it, don’t you? You want everyone to love you and have them keep you by their side while you’re playing the role of a perfect little girl who helps the weak but who’s just no fun to be with. The truth is that you just never learned to say no when people asked favors of you and it stayed as a habit. But instead of fixing that habit, you just went along with it, enjoying the attention."

Claire’s lips were starting to twist downward. There it was. The anger of being so blatantly insulted, the frustration of having to play nice even in front of someone who’s rude to you, the need to get all of those negative feelings out on someone and hurt them back either mentally or physically. Come hit me, yell at me and insult me. I finally get to see what you’re always hiding. No matter how ugly it is, I’ll accept it and laugh at it once you’re done pouring it out. When it comes to belittling others and making them feel worthless, I’m just the best at it.

"Honey, what’s going on? Want to turn back after coming so far? Well, I wouldn’t blame you. This is about the time when anyone would leave. Ah, by the way. Did you know that there was a certain rumor going around about the Durand family? Something like... a family member having a real nasty disease or something? So tell me who it is. Your mom, your dad? Surely not! He’s still working diligently everyday to take care of his little research facility in Florida. It would be terrible if he was actually pushing himself too hard to keep the business going, right?"

Tiffany finally went silent, grinning to herself, waiting impatiently for the crack to open and let the ocean out. Show it, Claire. Show that you can fight back so I can ridicule you even more for overselling your annoying "sweet girl" image.

However, none of that ever came.

"...Why... did you have to..."

Claire finally raised her head, showing a face full of tears. Despite that, she was trying to keep a smile on her face. "I’ve never seen anyone cry like that." Tiffany uselessly thought at first, until a wave of guilt she wasn’t even aware of went through her small conscience. There was something so upsetting about someone getting insulted to no-end and choosing to cry instead of letting their anger out. If only she exploded and hit her or yelled at her, it would’ve been better. But now, Tiffany felt like she just did something illegal. Attacked someone who didn’t have the means to defend themselves, who *didn’t* want to. Like she just robbed a homeless person who had barely any change left. It may have been the first time in her life that Tiffany truly felt pathetic for what she did. Shame, guilt, confusion. It was all welling up inside of her.

"Wh-why... *sniffle* Did you have to go so far... *sob* That was uncalled for..."

And yet you’re still not leaving? What’s wrong with this girl?! Before she even knew what was happening, Tiffany’s arms were reluctantly holding Claire into a tight embrace.

"A-are you a complete lunatic?? Why would you let me say all of this shit and cry afterwards?! That’s not how it works, you should’ve insulted me back and told me to fuck off!"

"I-I can’t... *sniff*"

"Why not?! Why can I and you can’t? You’re such a fucking moron, what the hell is wrong with you... When someone hits you, you hit them back! That’s basic knowledge every little kid has ever since kindergarten."

Claire’s hands slowly went up to return Tiffany’s hug. Through that small gesture, Tiffany felt every bit of emotion Claire was trying to communicate to her.

"Because... *sniffle* If I did you’d get sad and this conversation would end with both of us feeling sad... *sniffle* I know that you always act like you don’t care but, the truth is that you always get upset about what other people have to say about you, right? ...Especially with all of your social media accounts and the exposure you get. It must already be so hard to get so much unwanted criticism everyday even though you never asked for it..."

For some reason, before she even knew it, Tiffany’s heart rate picked up ever so slightly. To the point where neither she nor Claire even noticed it. After a relatively short amount of time, Tiffany let go of Claire, finally noticing how wet her blazer had gotten.

"Ugh. Seriously? Couldn’t you have at least- Oh God... You look like complete shit, go wash your face."

To that rude remark, Claire smiled gently, knowing that it didn’t have any malice behind it. Tiffany caught herself thinking that Claire really was an angel. She quickly erased it though. She didn’t want them to get involved in each other's business again, seeing how it can end. She didn’t want to make her cry again, no matter how weird that sounded coming from someone who never misses the chance to be a jerk. While parting ways, Claire’s crying face went through Tiffany’s mind again, filling her up with the desperate need to punch herself.

#sweet elite #claire durand #tiffany #cliffany #fanfics #this story has only 2 parts although I had planned more #I don’t think I’ll ever finish it but I might as well share

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Ranking : David Lynch (1946-present)

Film is definitely an art, and yet, it seems to be distinct from other forms of visual art such as painting or sculpture. Perhaps that is what makes David Lynch such a fascinating director, as he has the ability to tap into the surreal stimulus often found in the most famous paintings and transform it into brain-bending moments on film. Whether it his fear-fueled fascination with fatherhood present in his debut film Eraserhead, his ruminations on Hollywood society present in Inland Empire, or any of the stopping points in-between, it’s safe to say that David Lynch sits in the rarified air of directors like Ingmar Bergman, Alejandro Jodorowsky and the other few who can turn film into something deeper, more visceral and more meaningful.

With one of the most unique collections of films credited to his name, including a couple of curveballs in the early portion of his career, ranking the films of David Lynch is as perplexing as it is entertaining... so, without further ado, we attempt to climb that hill. I’m not even going to pretend that I can break down all of the symbolism and meanings of these films, but I can give my honest opinion about them.

10. Dune (1984) For a film that is supposed to be such a science-fiction gem, it’s a bit funny that nobody can seem to make a coherent, entertaining version of Dune. After nearly 15 years in pre-production hell (and three iconic names attached to versions of the production), the film landed in the laps of Dino De Laurentiis and Ridley Scott, but after another extended period delaying production, Scott bowed out, leaving the door open for David Lynch to step in. For what it’s worth, he did bring a huge list of names to the project, but the fact that the directing credit for Dune belongs to the throwaway pseudonym Alan Smithee should clue in any perceptive viewer that the project may not be one that Lynch cares to stand behind.

9. Inland Empire (2006) David Lynch isn’t the type of director that revisit ground he’s already covered, which is what makes Inland Empire (the seemingly final film from Lynch) such a confusing choice. Had this film not been released after a five year gap between it and the stellar Mullholland Drive, another film that focuses on the dark underbelly of Hollywood, fame and the tolls of the acting craft, perhaps it would hit a little different to me. That’s not to say that the film isn’t good, as it is definitely a slight adjustment from the style that Lynch basically trademarked, but when a director like Lynch experiments on what feels like general principle, it makes experiments that feel like a step backward lose impact.

8. Lost Highway (1997) Technically, you could count all of the Lynch “mystery” films as noir in some capacity, but Lost Highway feels like a direct skewing of what we know as the traditional noir structure. At its core, the film is a simple murder mystery, but it doesn’t take long for the Lynch signatures to begin appearing in every form from a mysterious, unnamed character to our protagonist literally changing into another person with no base explanation provided. Perhaps the latter choice was a look into split personalities and the disassociated nature that can come with brutal crimes... as I said before, I’m not here to try and decode the David Lynch mystery. While Lost Highway serves as a good entry point into the David Lynch catalog, it sits on the back half of the rankings due to no fault of its own... it’s more of a situation where the other mysteries are so stellar, that even the strange seems simplistic by comparison.

7. The Straight Story (1999) If you played a game of “one of these things is not like the other” with the films of David Lynch, it would not be difficult to make a winning choice, as The Straight Story is clearly the most accessible and standard of all the Lynch fare. What the film lacks in oddness and style, however, is more than made up for in terms of heart and performance. The use of a lawnmower as the main source of travel allows for some beautiful landscape cinematography, and the sheer force of will exhibited by Richard Farnsworth pays off in spades when he is reunited with Harry Dean Stanton. If you’re looking for something creepy, eclectic and mind-warping from Lynch, there are plenty of other films to choose from, but if you are looking for an excuse to shed a tear or two, this is the film for you.

6. The Elephant Man (1980) It’s funny to think that if not for The Straight Story, the Joseph Merrick biopic The Elephant Man would serve as the most normal film of the Lynch canon. This sophomore film dialed back on the abstractions present in Eraserhead, but it brought some extraordinary makeup and costuming to the table, not to mention it gifted viewers with a powerfully moving performance from John Hurt. Though memorable in its own right, the film really made its mark by tying Raging Bull at the 53rd Academy Awards, garnering eight nominations (and sadly losing in all categories, going home empty-handed). The backlash for the Academy’s lack of giving The Elephant Man special praise for its makeup effects also led to the creation of a Best Makeup award for the Oscars. It is quite possible that the combination of shock from Eraserhead in tandem with the skill and prowess shown in The Elephant Man opened all of the creative control doors for David Lynch, as not even Dune could derail his career and artistic oddness.

5. Blue Velvet (1986) While Twin Peaks is where I first heard the name David Lynch, it was Blue Velvet where I first got a taste of why Lynch was held in such high regard. The suburban paradise presented in the opening credits is immediately shattered by the discovery of a random ear, and the weirdness rabbit-hole gets deeper and deeper from that point on. The classic look of the film stands in powerfully beautiful contrast to the extreme darkness of the narrative, and Dennis Hopper turned it all the way up to 11 for his performance in the film. If Lost Highway serves as the best introductory film for those curious about Lynch, then Blue Velvet serves as a good midpoint to determine how much weirdness, abrasiveness and shock you can handle in a Lynch film.

4. Mulholland Drive (2001) I really and truly do not know where to begin with this insane rollercoaster ride of a film. The first time I watched this film, I thought I had everything figured out, every mystery solved and every bait and switch identified, but upon repeat viewings of Mullholland Drive, I’ve determined that I either had a brief moment of harmonic brilliance or I was fooling myself. The film makes sense at its root, if really and truly dissected, but when taken at face value and in real time, it’s almost impossible not to get completely lost in the sheer immersive nature of everything thrown at you. Naomi Watts is brilliant as the viewer guide through the film, and it’s good that she is so powerful in her lead role and guiding task, because Mullholland Drive is not afraid to get downright bonkers on more than one occasion. While films about the trappings of Hollywood and stardom are nothing new, I’m hard pressed to think of another film that approaches these in a manner even remotely close to that of Mullholland Drive.

3. Wild at Heart (1990) Quite possibly the most enjoyable of all the David Lynch films, despite some downright brutal moments of celebratory violence sprinkled throughout. The combination of Nicolas Cage and Laura Dern is nothing short of electric, and the presence of Willem Dafoe as antagonist is the perfect spark to ignite an already volatile mixture of leads. The energy level of this film starts on ten and only continues to rise as the film progresses. If/when I ever get the chance to program theater showings, I am putting this film on a double bill with Natural Born Killers immediately. While I can’t say that Wild at Heart is my favorite David Lynch film, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that it’s my favorite Lynch film to gush about with other fans.

2. Eraserhead (1977) More often than not, directors the caliber of David Lynch have stunning debut films to their name, and Lynch certainly exploded onto the scene with a gamebreaker in the form of Eraserhead. Upon first viewing, there is enough “WTF?!” going on to confuse most people, but for those brave enough to watch the film more than once, it becomes painfully obvious that all of the madness and shocking imagery on display is a clear metaphor for Lynch’s fear of fatherhood. The simple act of taking a fear that resonates with most humans and turning it into the equivalent of a black and white bad drug trip works perfectly, and Jack Nance’s iconic look and performance are almost recognizable enough to know without knowledge of the film. Eraserhead is one of those films that leaves you different than you were prior to watching it.

1. Twin Peaks : Fire Walk with Me (1992) In all honesty, was there every any doubt that Twin Peaks : Fire Walk with Me wouldn’t be in the top spot? Of all the properties that the David Lynch name is connected to, none of them have even come remotely close to touching the sheer size of the lore and fandom that has emerged from this modern day masterpiece. The story of the high school princess with deep, dark secrets to hide is not new territory, but the way that Lynch handles it all with Twin Peaks takes the familiar to all new realms of weirdness, including the creation of iconic places and characters like the Black Lodge, the Log Lady, the production mistake that created the infamous Bob, and the eternally iconic Laura Palmer, and oh yeah, the film’s not half bad either. I doubt that David Lynch ever had any intention of reaching the heights of fame that Twin Peaks : Fire Walk with Me afforded him, but it would be dumb to think that he isn’t impressed with the magnitude of the world he created based on that single idea for a film.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #DavidLynch #Eraserhead #TheElephantMan #Dune #BlueVelvet #WildAtHeart #TwinPeaksFireWalkWithMe #LostHighway #TheStraightStory #MullhollandDrive #InlandEmpire

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hoaryoldbitch · 4 years

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both a little scared, neither one prepared

Sansa hugs her knees to her chest, curled up into a ball on the bed as tears slip from her closed eyes. Jon has wandered off into the corner where the door out into the armoury is located. She heard him muttering to himself as she was pulling her stockings on.

She presses her forehead to her left knee, trying to expel every conscious thought from her mind. Part of her wants to remember and relive what has just happened, wants to let it play out inside her head, so she can cherish it. Jon is making her feel things she's never truly felt before and she's already aching to feel all of them again, but she shouldn't. She should try to forget it, pretend it never happened at all, but when she closes her eyes again, she can almost feel him: his warmth, his strength, his comforting presence.

No, she tells herself. You can't. Jon came back wrong, she can't blame him for his unnatural desires, but then what is her excuse? Once again, she realizes that before Jon, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be loved. It's confusing and overwhelming her in such a violent way that it's leaving her dazed and disoriented. And after everything she has been through, she's just become so hungry for love, so desperate for a gentle touch that her mind and body are welcoming his attentions, even though she should know in every fibre of her being that it's wrong. But still, in spite of that knowledge, she wishes she could give him what he wants, that she could make him happy.

"My lady?" It's Satin who's calling out to her. "Why did you let him go outside like that?" There is anger in his voice.

She looks up and Satin freezes and then tosses the pair of dead rabbits he's holding on the table. He approaches her as one would a wounded animal.

"My lady?" he repeats, but much more softly now, and with a hesitance that makes it sound like a question.

When he is next to the bed, his eyes rest on her position, on her puffy face and her red-rimmed eyes. "Did he hurt you, my lady?" he asks tentatively.

Sansa shakes her head. "No, he just startled me, is all." She wipes away a tear.

"He's outside, in the snow, completely bare," Satin tells her with a distraught frown on his face. "Would you come with me to get him back inside? He keeps calling out your name."

Oh gods! She scurries off the bed and pulls on her boots as quickly as she can. As she follows Satin out into the armoury, she hears a howl, not quite like a real wolf's, but close enough.

Just outside the armoury, Jon is on all fours in the freshly fallen snow, face turned up to the moon and still howling.

She approaches him slowly, and kneels next to him in the snow. "Jon?" she tries gingerly, reaching out to brush his hair back from his brow. His head snaps to her, and there's a wild panic in his wide, dark eyes. He throws his head back again and yelps, the pain in it chilling her to the bone.

"Jon, you're going to catch a chill out here. You need to come back inside."

He lowers his head slowly this time, shaking it vehemently as he meets her gaze with a tortured look in his eyes. "Sansa," he chokes out. "Sansa... say... leave." He's struggling to get the words out, just like he was that very first day.

She frames his face in both of her hands. The snow has already soaked through her borrowed tunic. "Oh, Jon. That's not what I meant. I just needed some space."

He sits up to cover her hands with his own. "Sansa... not... want... me," he whispers roughly. "Jon... wrong."

"I want you to come back inside with me," she answers, to avoid getting into that. She doesn't know how to make him understand. "We're pack, remember? We need to stay together."

He leans into her touch and nods. "Together," he repeats, but he doesn't make any attempt to get up.

"You have to come back inside to keep me safe. It's too cold out here for me," she tells him, turning her right hand in his to lace their fingers together.

She's not quite sure how she does it, but she manages to get Jon back inside. The short walk through the armoury seems to last hours, but eventually they arrive back in the room they've been sharing. Satin offers her a couple of blankets and she orders him to light a fire.

"My lady," he objects, standing in the middle of the room. "You know I can't do that."

"I'll handle him if it comes to that," she insists, though she's not as certain of herself as she pretends to be. "Do it." She walks over to the table, never releasing Jon's hand, and shows him the pair of rabbits.

"Look what Ghost brought back for you," she tells him in as cheerful a voice as she can muster. His eyes light up and he eagerly reaches for his meal, retreating to a corner to devour it. She follows him to wrap a blanket around his shoulders and cover his legs with another one, but she quickly averts her eyes as his teeth tear into the raw rabbit flesh. The sight still makes her stomach churn.

She turns around to see that Satin has been successful in starting a fire. For now, Jon seems sufficiently distracted by his food not to notice. She approaches Satin, putting some distance between her and Jon, so she can't hear the sounds he's making as clearly.

When Satin rises and turns to look at her, she crosses her arms over her chest, hugging her own frame, and whispers: "Do you think he'll ever be whole again, Satin?"

Satin's eyes travel to the corner behind her and he watches Jon before he answers. "He's better than he was before, since you've come here."

He certainly didn't look better naked and howling out in the snow. He looked worse than she's ever seen him. She knows she was right to end what he was trying to do, but it's clear she was too harsh with him, that he didn't understand her rejection, nor her request to be left alone.

"What happened, earlier?" Satin asks her.

She walks closer to the hearth, holding out her hands to warm them. "He climbed into the tub with me." She keeps her eyes on the flames that are starting to dance, aware that the heat in her cheeks is not the result of the fire. "He wants, he wanted..." Gods, she can't say it. "He doesn't understand," she adds through the lump in her throat.

She's grateful for Satin's silence, for the swift but soft squeeze of his hand on her elbow. She's even more grateful that he doesn't ask any questions, that he appears to understand without any further explanation.

"There was a raven earlier," he tells her, changing the subject. "It carried a letter for you." He hands her the scroll.

"Thank you, Satin. You may take your leave, if you wish. I'm sure you have tasks to attend to."

His eyes flicker to Jon, who's almost finished his pair of rabbits. "Will you be all right, my lady?"

"Yes, thank you," she answers him, waiting for him to leave before she turns to look at Jon again. The tub is still in the middle of the room, full of water that must have cooled down by now, but emptying and removing it will have to wait until the next day. It would probably be unwise to have other people around Jon right now.

She decides to walk over to him to take his hand and lead him to the bed. He follows her without questioning her.

"I'm tired," she tells him, just to be clear. He lets her tuck him into the bed and wipe the blood off his face, watching her every move as she takes off her boots and cloak before climbing up onto the bed as well. He lies next to her, staring at her with sad, uncertain eyes and his hands folded together under his cheek.

"I need to read this letter first," she explains to him as she picks up the scroll Satin gave her and opens it. It's from Wylis Manderly, who informs her that Alaric Stone and his men have arrived at White Harbour. Sansa smiles to herself. She'll have to tell Brienne he's reached his destination, and that he's safe. Lord Wylis also assures her that House Manderly will stand behind House Stark as they have for a thousand years.

She doesn't have much of a plan yet, but it's good to know that she won't be alone, that she'll have allies and people to support her. She'll have to wait for a raven from Howland Reed next, which will probably still take a while to arrive. She'll pray that it will though, and that Petyr won't have a chance to thwart her efforts.

She puts the scroll under the pillow and turns to Jon then. What is she going to do with him? He's still staring at her, and it appears as if he hasn't moved a muscle as he waited for her to finish reading her letter. The cold and the snow have barely affected him, but he still seems hurt and unsure after her rejection.

"Come here," she invites him, opening her arms for him.

Slowly and tentatively, he rolls over to rest his cheek on her chest and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, stroking his hair with her other hand. "We're safe," she tells him, not certain what else she might say to make him feel better. "We're together."

"Pack," he mumbles, and she can feel the rumble of his voice in her chest. As she holds him close, she can almost pretend none of it has happened and that they can carry on as they have before, but everything that has happened since he climbed into that bathtub still lingers, heavy and tangible between them, like a thick fog or a gloomy cloud that has descended from the heavens.

"Sing?" he asks her after a while.

She inclines her head to kiss the top of his, smiling into his hair. She'll sing a thousand songs if that's what it takes to heal his heart.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #series: tale as old as time #jonsa fic #jonsa ff #my writing

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

The Sick Rose ( V X Reader )

~ A request by a lovely friend from Twitter about a Modern College AU V helping a dear underclassman reader with her assignment. I hope you like it.

***

There. He saw her sitting on her own again on that old bench next to that tree.

And this time, she's reading something. Seemed like an old book.

She never noticed or suspected anything. Or maybe he was just too careful not to be noticed. But, whatever the case was, V would always see her sitting there, alone, and minding her own business. And she would never notice anything else while she's preoccupied in that tiny, private bubble of hers.

Normally, V would be minding his own business, as well. Either going to his next class alone while streaming Paganini or Debussy on his phone for his ears only, or listening to his best friends, Nero and Nico, talk about their favorite games and movies on their way back to their dorms. V has always been preoccupied with something else to notice anything.

Until this freshman, that is.

It began just a little over a week ago. And it was during one of those rare occasions where some seniors would get the opportunity to observe the junior literary classes. Or sometimes, take over as "assistant professors" for these underclassmen for a while.

During that time, the poor professor had to go to the clinic due to a very unsavory reason he opted not to disclose, and kindly asked V to take over for the meantime. He was teaching the comedic works of William Shakespeare.

While most of the students were clearly bored out of their own wits ( some were extremely interested for reasons V chose not to overthink about ), he noticed one person who looked genuinely interested in the topic.

That girl from the last row.

V noticed how she listened to every explanation and every word he said. Every so often, he would see her nod as she took some notes. And one time even, she tried to raise a hand to ask him something but, she somehow withdrew at the last moment. V honestly wondered why, because he would've gladly answered any questions she would ask.

The next day, V noticed her sitting on that bench with her headphones on while doodling something on her tablet. He tried to get her attention but, he chose not to since he didn't want to bother her, or anything. And the day after that, on that very same spot he saw her writing something on a journal, still with her headphones on. Either way, ever since that impromptu Shakespeare lecture, V found himself somehow a bit drawn to her and her sunny, and yet curious vibes. He would be lying if he told himself that was not the case.

It all began just a little over a week ago, and she didn't even notice him looking at her, not even once.

However this time, V noticed there was something off about her. Like something changed in that light - hearted disposition of hers that always drew him in. He tried to pinpoint what exactly, and after a short while, he noticed her intense facial expression as she poured all of her focus on that old book she most probably borrowed from the library. There was something a bit tense in the way she flipped those pages, the little trembling of those fingers as they moved, and the way she curled her lips as they slightly opened and closed when she read.

And most importantly, it looked like she needed some help. An urgent one.

Excusing himself from his two best friends, he composed himself and went towards her. Brushing an almost invisible crumb off his crisp white shirt, he cleared his throat and thanked the Gods above that he somehow remembered her name.

"Miss (L/N)?" He awkwardly began. Then, seeing that she didn't hear him, he spoke once more. "Miss (L/N)?"

Oh, the way her eyes widened when she finally noticed! The way that mouth of hers dropped and the way she almost lost her composure the moment their eyes met.

It's as if the girl didn't really expect that he would casually approach her like this.

And honestly? It kind of made V's heart jump. But only a little bit. He really wanted to help her, so he tried his very best not to get swept off by his own emotions and focused on the problem ahead.

"Mr. Sparda!" She stuttered, scrambling on her feet. "I d - didn't expect you to - "

"Please, no need to worry." V reassured her as calmly as he could. The girl remembered his name as well, and his traitorous heart did more than just jump this time around.

Relax, V. Relax. He thought. You're here to help an underclassman.

"You seem to be,... ahh,... having a little difficulty on that,... book of yours." V went on, in a voice he hoped was calm enough. "Would you indulge this fool and let him help you with whatever you need?"

There. He said it. Did he sound too strange? Was he too forward? Did he sound creepy? She did look like a meteor has just crash landed in front of her.

But, whatever the case was, there's no turning back now.

"Umm," She began as she handed V the old book.

And by Jove! V almost flipped when he realized what it was! It was none other than Blake, himself! His favorite poet!

"I quite don't understand William Blake." The girl went on. "His words are simple and yet, when I try to explain them, or make sense of them, ahh,... I don't know! The words just avoid me." She collapsed on the bench and sighed as she massaged her temples. The works of Blake seemed to give her such headaches.

Sitting right next to her, he asked, "What do you find difficult about Blake's work?"

"You see, about this rose thing." She said, leaning slightly closer to him as she pointed at some words on the book on his hands.

Her hair smelled nice,...

No, V! Focus!

"I don't know if it's talking about an actual plant, or something that is actually sick,... "

"Love."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh! I mean,... " And for a moment there, V felt his sweat run cold the moment he uttered that word.

And the girl? She seemed to tense when she heard the very word.

Like he somehow hit a deep chord within her.

"The Sick Rose is about love."

"Love?" She repeated. "You mean, a sick kind of love?"

"Well, yes." V said with a knowing smile on his face. "You know the saying love is blind? Most of the times, love prevents you from seeing the whole truth. Thus, the invisible worm."

"And the crimson joy?" There. Those glistening eyes of hers as she hang onto his every word,...

"The crimson joy means deep, dark love. The kind of love that destroys the purity and innocence of the rose."

"I,... see,... " The girl uttered, more to herself than to V.

Seeing that she's still not somehow convinced, he explained further. "You know when you love someone too much to the point of blindness, it destroys not only the person but yourself, as well. The true meaning of your feelings would be replaced with that of obsession, of selfishness. Of destruction and corruption. Of wanting this person only to yourself and no one else's. You keep this person enclosed deeply inside your own affections until the purity and innocence of their own feelings towards you die. And sometimes, this sickness grows too large, it affects other people as well. And that is the death of true love, as we know it."

The girl pondered for a while, thinking about everything V has just told her. Then, after a while, she shook her head as she grinned and chuckled to herself. And V found this quite amusing.

"Yeah, like," She said in a low voice, like a penitent confessing her sins before a priest. "You're loving someone too much, you fail to notice how destructive it has become to them and to yourself. The invisible worm. I get it now." She faced V once more, and with a bright smile, she said, "I guess I don't want to write an analysis on The Sick Rose, after all!"

This made V's eyes wide with both shock and surprise. "Oh, that's,... I see! Well, you - "

"But, thank you so much for your help, Mr. Sparda. It truly feels like you've taken a peek inside my deepest and darkest secrets."

"Pardon - ?"

"Can you help me choose a different Blake poem, instead? Something that feels lighter and brighter?" And just like that, after having a small glimpse of her own precious thoughts, V felt that she closed her doors on his face once more. Of course, there was something more about this girl, something that made him see a different color about her. Something,... intense for a change, that clashed with that sunny vibe she often showed to most people. And to him.

And it made her even more interesting to V.

This mysterious girl,...

... he has to know more about her.

"What about The Cradle Song?" V offered as he gestured towards her headphones that he saw peeking from her school bag. "We can listen to the actual song instead of me explaining it."

The girl smiled and she nodded, accepting the offer. "Sounds good to me."

It was safe to say that V and the girl has established some sort of solid connection between the two of them after listening to that song. Afterwards, she even recommended him one of her favorites, a song called Honesty by someone who wears pink and sweats a lot. At least in V's understanding of that particular band's name. Nevertheless, V enjoyed that one, and more other songs she recommended whenever they get the chance to see each other, whether to study, read books, or to just hang out.

As friends? Maybe yes. Maybe not. Who could say?

All V knew was that he was glad he approached her that day when she needed help with that Blake poem analysis. And those conflicting feelings she chose not to reveal at first.

***

#vitale #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #devil may oneshot #v x reader #v x you

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