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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.” Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg)#sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

SOMEWHERE ON THE ROAD.

Marcus Álvarez x Jackson Teller' sister!Reader

Anon asked: how about an imagine of Alvarez x Jax little sister

Word count: 2.3k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Author Comments: Let me know if you would like a second part! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcroslut @jade770 @arveeee @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“A woman isn't gonna touch my bike, pendejo”.

“Mexican, drug dealer and sexist, you have the combo, Álvarez”. You roll your eyes, taking him off the keys whilst he's focused arguing with your brother.

“Amma' fuckin' shoot you, puta”. He says then, trying to get the gun behind his kutte, before Jax stops him with both hands on his chest.

“Trust me, brother, no one will treat your bike better than my sister”.

“You better”. He threatens him with an aggressive tone, before having a sit in the nearest picnic table.

Of course, you know you're going to work with his dark eyes constantly on you. But you don't care. Once that your headphones are on and the motorbike is on the lift, you only get focused on figure out what's wrong with the engine. You try to turn it on, knowing by the watery buzz where the problem comes from. So you can get down to work.

Taking a hard plastic tube, you tuck it inside the gasoil tank, sucking by your lips the other extreme just one second, before the dark liquid start to fall into the pail close to your feet. And by the lumps it has, you know that the fuel pump is already k.o. But first you have to leave it empty. So when the tube is dripping every six seconds, you take it off to walk towards the tools closet, choosing the ones you need. You start dismounting the body of the motorbike, just to make easy unscrew the pump, cleaning after that some rest of fuel around the empty space with a brush. Throwing away the component, making a loud sound colliding with the floor, you can see sideways how the mexican tries to get up himself from the table, being stopped again by your brother's hands.

Cleaning yours on the jumpsuit, you turn over your feet to guide your steps to the right corner of the workshop. Opening another closet filled with cardboard boxes of different sizes, your fingertips tour every tag on them till you find the model you need. It takes you twenty minutes more, between assembling the motorbike again and fill the tank. You know it's ready to be used, but maybe clean it up could be a good gesture to the Mayans president. And you do it with extreme care, a new sponge and a soap that will give it more shine. It's an easy job, but you have to do it well. Finishing it by spraying a sun protector for the paint.

When it's already done, taking off the headphones of your ears, you walk close to the table offering him his own keys.

“Thanks for hiring the services of Teller Morrow, señor Álvarez”.

The man take them in silence with no gesture on his face, getting up so he can go to his bike and check it's already working. Of course yes. Jax raises both eyebrows with a huge and satisfied smile on his lips, and both arms supported on the table as his back, looking at the mexican.

“You impressed him”. Your brother says, holding your waist to push you into his lap, sitting there.

“Yeah, sure…” Rolling your eyes you palm his chest chuckling.

“Are you gonna come to the party tonight?”

“I don' know. Should I?”

“You should, daughter of Anarchy. Other charters are coming and I need a babysitter”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You're not into parties, that's not for you being the opposite of your brother. But as your mother always says ‘club goes first’. No matter where you look at, there are girls almost naked dancing around every men there and for you is pretty uncomfortable. You can't hide in a dorm, occupied by some member fucking one of those bitches. You can't hide in the clubhouse because they also don't need a dorm. You can't hide in the workshop because, well, same shit. So the only place secure for you it's the rooftop, where your father used to teach you about the stars on Sunday nights.

Lying on the floor with a beer next to you, you place your hands under your head, focusing on the dark sky and trying not to hear all the barbarities that are happening in the crowded yard. But the characteristic sound of the metallic door getting opened calls your attention. Alvarez is there, holding a small cardboard box in one of his hands. You turn at him just for a second.

“Shouldn't be the Mayans presidente joying the party?”

“Shouldn' do the same the ‘daughter of Anarchy’?”

Clicking your tongue and sitting up to have a drink from your beer, you curl your knees against your chest. He already knows by that gesture that you're not enjoying the celebration. Walking towards you, he offers you the box.

“Jax told me you said 'you like my leather handles”.

With a raised eyebrow, you take it opening the brown flap to find them. Aren't the same, but they're pretty cool too. Pursing your lips in a soft smile, you twist your neck in a funny gesture.

“Look at you, presidente. From calling me ‘puta’ to giving me a present”.

“I know how to recognize a job well done”.

“And complementing me”. You nod with your chin, joking on him a little.

“May I join you? I'm not into parties after a long week, chamaca”. He says, sitting down without waiting for a reply. “This morning I had the… feeling that you're like a locked bird”.

Taking away your gaze from him to the dark sky, you shrug your shoulders with a soft sight drowned in your lips.

“Who cares?” You ask then with a lower tone.

“Your family?”

You laugh bittersweet shaking your head, surrounding your legs with both arms and your eyes placed on the leather handles.

“Gemma and Jax live for the club. They just… dragged me to the life my father tried to save me from”. You say, and maybe it's reckless but you're tired of all these bullshit. “We don' have the same concept of family as the mexicans have. America is based in money and power. And if they have to kill their own blood to earn it... they don' doubt”.

It's painful, but it's the crude reality. He nods one time, whilst you're drinking again. And the man doesn't say anything else, narrowing your left shoulder for a second before getting up and leaving you there alone.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Hard knocks hit the door of your dorm at the clubhouse. You stayed there the last night because of the last week you had to work most than never before, since other Mayans knew you fixed Álvarez motorcycle. It's almost eleven am when you watch somewhat sleepy the clock on the nightstand, looking at the entrance that Jax is crossing with a confused look on his face. Closing it after his steps, he sits in the edge of the bed. Sitting up and rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, you yawn exaggeratedly.

“I don' start till four”. You say feeling your throat pretty dry, after all the shots you drunk last night.

“What happened in the party last week?”

“What do you mean, Jay'?”

“Did you talk with Álvarez?”

“Yeah, more or less. He brought me something like a… present”.

“He put a proposal on the table”.

You growl a little bit confused with a firm sound.

“He's gonna open another two Mayans charters. That means he'll travel more often”.

“Good. So, what?”

“He wants you as his personal mechanic, riding by his side”.

A mix of feelings are running through your body, having to hide them all, pursing your lips and shaking your head for a second pretending that you're surprised. You are, but at the same time, you're not. Charming it's not a place for someone like you and Álvarez knew to see it.

“The question is…” Jax holds your hands with his, leaving a kiss on each back. “What do you want?”

His blue eyes are on yours. Maybe you can keep your secrets, your wishes and your concerns away from your mother. But it's impossible to keep them from him. And he even doesn't need words to know your answer. His gesture changes into something more unhappy and disappointed with the decision you're going to take. Jax can't help but letting a tear running down his cheek, putting his gaze away. You will still submerged in the MC's world, but at least, you're gonna be far enough from Charming to burn in hell. It's another way to save your life, as your father always wanted. As your brother does.

With a heavy and sad snort, he leans towards you with a hand on your nape pushing you closer, leaving a slow kiss on your forehead knowing that it's going to pass a lot of time until he will be able to kiss you again. You're already crying with your eyes filled with tears and a knot oppressing your throat.

“I never wanted this life for you… But I know he's gonna take care of you better than I could do it here”.

“Don' say that, Ja—”.

“It's true, (Y/N). Gemma loves you, more than she will ever love me, but all she wants for you is to suck the cock of a Son' and keep his house clean. You're not one of those bitches, you're a free soul. And no one will ever tame you. Don't let them, sister. You're more than a fuckin' pussy”.

Maybe they're not the best words to show his love, but you understand the jargon he's using.

“We will meet again, somewhere on the road”. You say swallowing, biting and licking your lips, remembering those words your father used to tell you.

“Somewhere on the road”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Farewells have always been hard and sad, knowing that you're leaving a piece of your heart in the town that saw you born. But it's not your home anymore, since many years ago. It's not the place that should fits you like a second skin. You haven't even looked back after you have turn on your motorcycle behind Álvarez's. And you haven't even looked back when you have passed away the welcome sign of Charming. It's not the way you would like to leave them, but someday you had to fly from the nest and you know that your father, wherever he is, is proud of you.

Night is falling down when you're reaching Oakland. You have never been there before, but looks like a good city to create your own roots. At least, is prettier than the sewer that Charming was. Álvarez makes a gesture with his right hand, being passed away by the other Mayans, before doing you another one. You speed a little your bike, placing by his side somewhat confused.

“Follow me”. He says louder, above the sound of your motorcycles. You nod without asking.

Going down the principal avenue, he turns to the left before a roundabout, driving for three minutes more on a secondary street till the music floods it. Making you a last one gesture, you park close to him, getting up and taking off the helmet. There are a lot of people on the street, dancing, laughing and eating as if it was a mexican festival. The happiness infects your body, looking around fascinated by all the colors hanging from the lampposts with different shapes. You're too focused to see the way Marcus is looking at you, walking some inches away from your steps. Putting your hands inside your pockets and turning above your feet just one second, you find yourself smiling with some naturally you didn't even know you could have.

“You like it, ah?” He asks then, bringing you back to real life.

“Yes”. You just say reaching him and letting the mexican place an arm on your shoulders.

Some minutes after you're sitting on the edge of a sidewalk eating a taco for first time in your life. You know what they are, but you haven't tried them before and it's really delicious.

“Welcome to the tribe”. He says after cleaning his mouth with a napkin, cheering his food with yours.

“Eating it was the ritual?”

“I can't have by my side someone who disrespect my gastronomy”.

You chuckle shaking your head, having another bite maintaining his gaze with yours, so he can see you're really enjoying it. Drawing after that an exaggerated smile, closing your eyes for a second. Marcus laugh loud, touching his shoulder with yours.

“Thank you”. You mutter then, pulling down a little piece of paper so you can eat the last bite.

“Fo' what?”

“You saved me, and no one asked you to do it. You could have walked away... keeping your business with Samcro and pretend you never heard anything that I said”.

“You said mexicans have a different concept than americans, but you were wrong, chamaquita. My family sold me too”. He replies, cleaning his hands as soon as he finish to light up a cigar. “Mayans. We're renegades. We're a family of people who were betrayed by their own blood, that's why ‘the club goes first’. And I want you to be part of it”.

That has sense. All the sense that there can be on earth.

“I want to give you a family. A family who will give their lives for yours, if it's necessary”. Having a smoke, he points your heart and your head with his free hand. “This and this can't be locked in a cage. You have too much to offer the world, (Y/N). I couldn't leave you there, rotting among scrap, putas and drunks”.

You nod for a second, taking the confidence to surround his closer arm to you with yours, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“I can't promise you a good life, but a bullet to shoot it whenever it tries to fuck you down”.

“Socrates is crying with emotion because of your philosophy, Marcus”. You joke on him, calling the mexican by his name for the first time. Fact that doesn't seems that bothers him, accompanying your laughter with his.

“Wanna' meet the crew?”

“Of course. I'm ready to improve my spanish”.

“The show just have started”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #marcus alvarez imagine #marcus alvarez x reader #marcus alvarez #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine

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gffa · 4 years

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YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW INCREDIBLY GOOD THIS COMIC IS UNTIL YOU REREAD IT FOR LIKE THE THIRD TIME AND ALL AT ONCE AND THINK ABOUT WHERE ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE COMING FROM AND WHAT THE HEART OF THE JEDI’S ISSUES ARE AND OH MY GOD THEN IT HITS LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN. Okay, maybe that’s just me, but I reread this coming in one sitting again and it just smacked right into me how incredibly spot on this comic is about the main issue and what it’s doing to Anakin. The story is that there’s a war that’s been raging for centuries on a planet that has torn it apart, the Open and the Closed all want each other dead, no one even really knows who started it or why they’re fighting, only that nothing matters more than winning this war just for the sake of winning the war. There’s a Scavenger who is dropping kites in from the sky, pieces of salvaged art and culture, so that it might spark a memory of how they used to be more than this, but ultimately the Scavenger wants to furiously kill all the older members (and maybe even the Jedi sent to help them because he didn’t side with her and kill all the older Closed and Open) and “start over” with the younger ones, who say, wtf, no, whatever else is going on, this is our fight too. These are our people! Interspersed with this is a story about Palpatine strong-arming the Jedi into letting him spend an afternoon with Anakin to thank him for his help with Naboo, to help mentor him while Anakin’s rage is having difficulty getting it under control. Palpatine takes him to the Underworld, where Senators are gambling away and Palpatine spins a story about how they’re corrupt, if we could just make them slip up a little more, we could go after them, because the system is hampering us. Anakin nudges the dice (which is what Palpatine wanted him to do), then the Senator loses his game, Palpatine takes Anakin back and says, oh, if only I could do more. The Jedi can’t just wipe him out, even knowing he’s corrupt, and my hands are tied, too. Oh, if only there was some other path outside of the system. By the way, have you ever considered leaving the Jedi and coming to work for me? Anakin is considering leaving the Jedi, he fully intends to and has made those intentions to Obi-Wan known, who says he’ll respect it, if that’s what Anakin truly wants, but he believes Anakin is better off with them. In the end, Obi-Wan saves the day through calling in the Jedi, by saying there was a source of Tibanna gas on the planet, who cares if that’s actually true, the point was that he wasn’t on his own, that he was working to use and make better the system that he was working with, because they’d have died if they were on their own. Being part of something bigger is what saved them, what allowed them to give this planet any kind of chance at all. THAT IS EXACTLY AT THE HEART OF EVERYTHING THAT’S GOING ON WITH ANAKIN AND THE JEDI. Everything in this issue is designed to be an echo of what Anakin is going through, right down to how he thinks the Open vs the Closed are like the Jedi fighting the Sith, which is what Palpatine will also tell him one day in the future, that they’re both “evil” from a different point of view, that both want power, and it completely sidesteps that the Jedi and the Sith are not mirror images of each other (no matter how much marketing makes it seem that way sometimes), that the Jedi do not want to win a war just for the sake of winning a war, and it’s not about fighting the Sith because they’re Sith, but because they go around murdering people and oppressing entire planets, that you can’t say one side is “just as bad” as the other when one side is going around murdering entire peoples and planets on purpose, you can’t say it about the Rebellion or the Resistance or the Republic, because there are legitimate reasons to fight and real people being fought to protect. But it’s sure going to be a handy excuse for Anakin, who is going to strip context out of everything, when Palpatine is dangling the possibility of saving Padme in front of him, that Anakin doesn’t necessarily want to think that way, but if there’s wiggle room to justify what he really wants (saving Padme), then he’ll jump on it. But at the heart of this moment, the question is: Do you remain as part of the system that is deeply flawed because it’s the only way you can see to make any kind of actual betterment for people? Or do you leave the system all together, doing whatever you want, where you can act more directly against things that are wrong, but you have no weight behind you other than your own? Palpatine is planting the seeds in Anakin for the latter, that going outside of the system seems like an appealing idea for someone who feels he’s not doing enough, that the Jedi won’t just go in and clean up the mess. And Palpatine makes it seem appealing because he’s deliberately side-stepping the consequences that would happen if the Jedi did that, that we see incredibly clearly in books like Master and Apprentice or Queen’s Shadow that these methods would not work. Padme goes around the Senate in TPM and pays for it for years, in her inability to actually get anything real done. Qui-Gon is only able to help the people on Pijal because he’s part of the Republic, if he’d left it, the slaves would have been absolutely fucked and Czerka would have gotten away with it. He understands that, if they just take out one Hutt, in a few months, a new one will take their place and everything will be back to where they started. Obi-Wan’s point is that the only chance they have--deeply flawed and imperfect as it is (he says it directly when Anakin says “this entire world is just gone because that’s the system?”, “I don’t like it either. But, yes. The system is... not perfect.” “Then the system should change.” “Perhaps someday it will, Anakin.” THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR THE RESOLUTION OF THE STORY.)--matches up with exactly what Obi-Wan has always believed, that you work from within the system to change it, to make it better, because that’s the only thing that actually seems to work beyond just a few months at most. And it’s precisely what happens:

The Jedi could go storming onto that planet and separate everyone, but as soon as they’re gone, the fighting will resume. They’re only 10,000 in a galaxy of quadrillions and they have other people who need their help, too. The only way to get anywhere is to be part of the Republic, to have that weight behind them, to be allowed to negotiate in the first place (if you’re not part of the Republic, then whatever treaty you negotiate doesn’t mean anything because no one’s going to honor it, the Republic isn’t going to honor something they never agreed to, never gave anyone the authority to offer on their behalf, NOR SHOULD THEY, otherwise Cad Bane can just go in and make a fucking awful treaty and have that be honored, too), to use the system as best you can to make changes for the better, which ultimately Anakin agrees with, hence deciding to stay with the Jedi. But the seeds have still been planted and they’re definitely going to grow. Anakin’s desire to just go where he wants and do what he wants is going to be constantly at war with his desire to stay with the Jedi (with Obi-Wan) and his understanding that Obi-Wan has a point--as powerful as Anakin is, he’s not an entire system of government, that being part of something else makes him stronger, allows him a reach and an authority he would not have on his own. It’s not until he thinks he’s strong enough to be that entire government (and he’s deep in the grips of the dark side and his own fear at what he’s done to save Padme’s life) that he’s willing to truly step away from the Jedi. It’s not until Palpatine has engineered an entire war to completely overwhelm the Jedi’s attempts to change things (and there’s a very strong recurring theme in canon about how the Jedi keep trying to nudge things towards the better, keep trying to appeal for better decisions, and are consistently turned down--hell, that happens in this comic, when Mace tries to say no to Palpatine, who then strongarms him into being forced to agree) so that they’re too busy putting out tire fires and being in triage mode to actually make enough change anymore, especially when they have so little real authority themselves, as compared to the Senate and the Chancellor, that Anakin will be willing to step away. What Palpatine does here is masterful, he lets Anakin think that doing something illegal and outside the system (ie, a small taste of just doing whatever it is you want to do, when you want someone taken out) will lead to clearing away some of the corruption in the system, instead of addressing the far more complicated questions of how easy that kind of power is to abuse and why it’s actually a really awful idea to go down that road, even if you think you’re doing it with good intentions. The system should change, pretty much every single person is onboard with that. (Except Palpatine and the other corrupt Senators who benefit from it.) That’s not the argument. The argument is about how that should change--radical action or steady work from within and what each of those entails and when you’re stepping over a line that you’ll pay for (which isn’t about yourself, but about the good you were doing, the people you can help, if you’re allowed to help them) and how Palpatine just threw a giant ball of mud into the pond that is Anakin’s understanding of all of this, because he needs those waters muddy to turn Anakin towards him. To take all those good intentions and all that power Anakin has and continue to use it for his own ends, rather than Anakin actually truly helping anyone on a long-term basis. ALL WRAPPED UP IN A COMIC THAT ALSO HAS THE MOST GORGEOUS ARTWORK AND AN EXCITING ACTION STORY AND SERIOUSLY LOOK AT THIS COVER:

I went into this thinking, okay, I’m going to scream about Obi-Wan being amazing and Anakin’s star-struck face any time Obi-Wan does something and yell “I FEEL YOU, ANAKIN” and how Obi-Wan was planning to leave the Jedi Order with Anakin if that’s what he decided and just have fun. Instead, I got a comic that just fucking nailed everything about one of the central conflicts between Anakin and the Jedi in a way that wasn’t really even that apparent until I actually started thinking about it (and have been yelling about it a lot recently, as my understanding of the GFFA evolves) and how there’s legitimate frustration and grievances there, but Palpatine strips out context and twists everything around to get his own desired result and it seems perfectly reasonable until you stop to think about it and how he played Anakin perfectly. That it showcases how there aren’t any easy answers to this, only people trying to do their best within deeply flawed circumstances. THIS COMIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #jedi order #comics #meta #long post

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monchikyun · 3 years

Text

III. coffee and cigarettes

Nothing good lasts forever and so even Connor’s short vacation comes to an early end, making him wish he had an excuse to take some more. He has plenty left too, never really having the need to spend more than what’s mandatory. The prospect of keeping himself a sole company for very long doesn’t much appeal to him. Too afraid of the brain rot that would make a space for his internalised guilt to fully manifest.

There is never anything to do but to waste his free day away talking to his four-legged friend who doesn’t seem to even enjoy their one-sided conversations. He could busy himself with countless tasks but what’s the point when no one’s here to witness it.

Sometimes he gets to hang out with his friends, rarely he’s ever lucky enough to pass the time with the one person who can make him smile, who can make him realise that there is more to him than the hurt corroding his insides. It happened only once, actually.

Somehow he persuaded Gavin to join him for their walk to a dog park, though it wasn’t all that impressive of a feat. He likes to replay that day sometimes, a great way to fill the void in his mind that comes to visit whenever he has problems initiate sleep-mode. It was back in October, the sky was an ethereal shade of blue and the trees turned into a display of a non-lethal fire-show. All the reds and oranges towering over them and shedding pieces of their transcendent beauty on the ground for them to to do with as they please. He stole one. An oddly-shaped maple leaf hidden between pages of the book he won’t ever read. Of course, he gave one, too. And that was when he first fell something shift inside of his heart. The first time he ever wanted to kiss someone.

---

“Hey, tin can.”

“Good morning to you too, detective.”

The titles they call each other have lost their initial meaning and morphed into something that provides familiar comfort. Nicknames, perhaps.

Connor smiles with his eyes, not daring to show something more lest it gets misinterpreted by the wrong people. Because he has no right to be happy, least here of all places.

He scans the empty desk that used to be Hank’s work-space. Still empty. Several personal items belonging to a stranger, hair that isn’t Sumo’s but came out of some other dog. There is nothing left of his old friend anymore. Devoid of anything that matters to him.

Gavin watches his line of sight, he’s painfully aware of that. Their desks are stuck to each other now since they share all of their cases and therefore it’s convenient to be this close. It’s convenient to psyche. He’s glad he doesn’t have to face his failures on daily basis like that, now that detective Reed keeps him almost constant company. Maybe he should tell him how grateful he is,… someday.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

There is a fresh coffee on his desk, one that Gavin hasn’t made for himself. A ritual that keeps repeating every work-day. He only asked the one time, back when he still couldn’t stand Connor and all the other plastics, yet he got nothing but some preprogrammed phrase then. Thinking about it now, maybe he shouldn’t have punched the android. His fist ached like a bitch and knowing Connor, he probably received zero damage from that feeble attack. God, he hated him at that time. Hated that there was no life hiding behind that pretty face and that he was powerless to do anything about it. He didn’t believe that androids had the potential to become something more than glorified computers, let alone human. It was Connor who showed him that being alive isn’t defined by the components or material one is made out of. It’s what one does that counts. The behaviours reserved only for those possessing free will.

It took him a month to be fully convinced that Connor just might be more of a full-fledged person than Gavin could ever be. Three more and he fell flat in the dark pit of no return.

It isn’t that loving Connor is an inconvenience or something he could live without, but he’d rather had his teeth pulled out one by one than to go another day knowing that his feelings will never be returned. That it will always be his fault for being such an unlovable bastard.

Drinking the pleasantly scalding coffee helps a little. It reminds him that Connor cares, to some extent. The fact that he takes the time of his day just so Gavin can have his daily dose of caffeine without having to lift a finger warms him through and through. It plants a tiny seed of hope to his heart.

He never asks but he always thanks him. Words of gratitude whispered underneath his breath, comprehensible only to the person who deserves to hear them.

Usually, he’d take the cup outside to compliment his morning smoke, but Connor is sitting in his chair a little too stiffly, his eyes wandering off somewhere distant. Not even his gratitude got acknowledged today. He gets like that more often that Gavin would like. Reversing back to his old self, to a time when human-like expressions were still foreign to him. It breaks his heart a little every time he gets reminded that nothing will be able to undo the damage done, that Connor will bear his trauma forever, …possibly. Gavin would always stay quiet, not finding the right things to say or do. Not today.

“I’m gonna go outside… to take a… breath.”

He isn’t sure Connor even registers his words.

“You… wanna go with?”

Still nothing.

“Connor.”

He stands up and gets as close as possible without trespassing the unspoken borders between them.

“Come with me, please.”

Their eyes meet for a split second and before he can catch up to the present moment they are already halfway out of the door.

Maybe he should use the magic word more often.

---

A blissful smoke fills his lungs, clouding over the pain and uncertainty that put him here in the first place. He relies on this wonderfully horrible sensation too much, but it’s better than the alternative.

“Liar.”

Yeah, he isn’t going to win any honesty awards in the near future, that’s for sure. But at least Connor is back to his old irreplaceable self, or he acts like he is.

There is a day old snow piled on the grassy patch beside the wall, reminding him of the photo Connor sent him yesterday. Of the tears and the desperation. How he wanted nothing but to be held by his friend. And now, when they’re so just inches apart, he’s too afraid to even look at him. He couldn’t just casually hug him without it meaning anything, because to Gavin, it would be worth everything. And if he lost that again,… no amount of nicotine would ever be enough to put him back together.

“Must suck not having an unhealthy coping habit to solve all your problems.”

He can’t even begin to imagine what Connor must be going through.

“I wish you wouldn’t...” His cigarette gets forcibly removed from his mouth, the implications of which don’t translate to his ape brain right away, so his jaw is stuck to the ground while he watches Connor study the stolen smoke like it’s something he’s never seen before. “… have one.”

“Give it back.” He tries to get it back with his grabby fingers but Connor stops him by doing something even more unexpected.

He puts the whole cigarette in his mouth and makes some weird movements with his jaw. And just like that, the tube disappears.

The freaky bitch must have swallowed it whole.

He blinks rapidly to clear the brain fog suddenly threatening to limit his intelligence.

“What.”

Connor is towering in front of him without Gavin having any say about this scary development. His soft hands are holding Gavin by the shoulders like he wants to shake the soul of him, and maybe he does, because he looks him dead in the eye and quietly says:

“I don’t ever want to lose my unhealthy coping mechanism.”

Connor’s fingers are boring into his jacket, probably damaging the leather, but all he cares about is the hurtful expression splitting him in half with an intent intensity.

Gavin has a million words lodged inside his throat, his own hands itching to return the contact. But there is never enough time to get his act together and put aside his inner coward.

“Sorry.”

The touch is but a memory now as Connor is leaving him in alone in the cold place. The android even felt the need to apologise, like he did something wrong. That won’t do.

“Wait.” Gavin grabs him by the wrist, stops him in his tracks. His hands slide down on its own, a behaviour he doesn’t approve of but is unable to oppress. He can feel his own fingers trembling as they wrap around Connor’s ever so tentatively.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

He wishes he didn’t face the android’s back so he knew whether to take that promise back.

He wishes his voice didn’t crack so he could spare himself an ounce of embarrassment.

But most of all, he wishes Connor didn’t clutch his hand this hard so he could let go and pretend nothing that out of the ordinary has happened between them.

@a-convin-new-year sorry it’s late ;D

#aconvinnewyear #convin #low-temperature burn #i live for cheese and romance

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viduregia-blog · 5 years

Text

-- Prompt 01: Questionnaire

(content warning for: disordered eating, maybe substance abuse?)

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

Her birth name was largely picked because one of her moms thought it sounded pretty-- it’s not much deeper than that from an in-fiction perspective.

And Uria Grata, the primary alias that she uses, is the name of a girl whose identity she stole... So it was picked for that reason LOL. Her second most used alias, Violet Waxbi, was designed to help her blend in among various different groups while on the job.

Out of fiction, I’m a giant fucking nerd and adapted her birth name from that of a brood parasite (aka bird that puts its eggs in the nests of other birds), and her aliases are both plays on the name of the bird that this specific brood parasite takes advantage of.

Also when she was a kid some of the other gang members called her Songbird (because i said so), and she still occasionally uses it as a call sign or whatever.

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

i mean............... she’s definitely not still there! kinda sucks when ur planet goes boom but she’s coping ! sort of !! sure wish more of her family and friends had gotten off planet with her !!

So mostly she tries to avoid thinking about Taris. But. There aren’t many positive memories of the planet itself, it was dirty and and oppressive and, later, war torn. Most days she didn’t see the sun, and good food was hard to find at the best of times. Memories of the people there are much more favorable, though, and sometimes she misses that. Sometimes she even misses the smell and everything just because it was so familiar.

Getting off Taris was one of the best things she ever did, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt sometimes.

Getting her family off Taris was just as important, even if it took a lot of convincing-- but with the Exchange taking over, even they could see that things weren’t likely to get better. A good quarter of the Hidden Beks had managed to find refuge elsewhere before the quarantine and Taris’ eventual destruction, Vidu’s family included.

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

She loves her moms!!! and the other older swoop gang members that helped them raise her! Loves them so much she almost didn’t leave for Coruscant when she got the chance but they weren’t gonna stand for that... It was a very tearful mushy goodbye.

Growing up, there was a lot of emphasis on loyalty and working for the good of the group, and she still carries that with her, though she’s expanded her gang to include the whole of the Republic at this point. Just one huge family. Also, a healthy dose of distrust for strangers.

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

I mean maybe if you squint real hard there might be a hint of force around her but like....... Not enough to do anything with. Once in a blue moon she has a gut feeling abt something and it turns out right, but like, it’s probably just intuition? She does believe in it well enough, though-- like, she’s seen a few Jedi at work. They do fancy stuff that seems to support the whole force thing. She doesn’t think about it very much, but she knows it’s out there.

If she had more sensitivity she would rest somewhere in the middle, though. She’s all about shades of gray.

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

me: determined, resourceful, scattered

vidu: i don’t have time for this (yes she knows that’s more than three words)

del, sis agent: stubborn, protective, hot

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

god she misses the days when aesthetic didn’t matter as much..... she spent her whole youth running around in whatever fabric she could throw on at the last second.... although occasionally she made the whole gang attend her “fashion shows” but even then, it was mostly her making her brothers and anyone else nearby dress up silly......

now, though, she has to dress up and accessorize properly as a matter of survival. if she doesn’t look the part, who knows what’ll happen? this applies to her apartment, too-- it very much looks the part. although, it and her desk are also Always some level of a total mess. there’s lots of shoving dirty clothes under the bed when someone comes to visit.

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

in her down time, she’s a real sucker for anything that feels luxurious. vidu almost never takes a day off, but u can bet when she does she spends the whole day in the bath!! u can also bet she spent most of at least one paycheck on super fancy soft sheets, and has more nice alcohol in her apartment than she does food.

she does have the unfortunate habit of substituting drink (alcohol, caf, experimental energy drinks, protein shakes, etc) for food, though, and most days she only eats once because she forgets so easily. she’s just not used to food being that easily accessible!! she probably never will be!! and if she’s not in polite company, chances are high she’ll scarf her food so fast it gives her a stomach ache...

other bad habits: having zero relationships outside of work, and finding dares almost impossible to resist

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

Oops i guess I talked about it a little in the last question, BUT.... yeah, she’s not great about food. As a kid it wasn’t always easy to come by, and now that it is she doesn’t know what to do with it. How do manage eating schedule?? How do GROCERY SHOP?? ???? ? No. If she doesn’t snag something at work then she’s either not eating or she’s ordering out.

Pretty sure Vidu has never cooked-- that was more her brother’s thing. She’s not like, burn water bad, but.... She does avoid it like the plague. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t occasionally hoard food when she does remember to go shopping, though. There’s a lot of shit in her cabinets that never sees the light of day.

In terms of what she will eat, though.... I mean she’s eaten things a lot grosser than anything you’ll find for sale on Coruscant. She can and will eat bugs off the ground on a dare. Let’s leave it at that.

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

Vidu’s never really been in an official relationship yet, and she’s dead set on keeping it that way until her single status stops being a career asset. At the moment, being able to flirt around without worrying about someone getting hurt is too important to risk a relationship.

She will occasionally have a one night stand, though, when she’s not too busy. It’s just nice to indulge in the fantasy, sometimes. She's developed a number of crushes throughout her life, but has yet to follow anything through.

Also it’s kind of a given, in her mind, that she’ll end up sleeping with someone for career favors someday, but it hasn’t come to that yet.

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

I mean she certainly doesn’t like pain !!! She’s also incredibly stubborn, though. So it ends up like this: she’ll whine for an hour about a stubbed toe, but she’ll keep working on a sprained ankle without saying anything to anybody (limping pathetically around the office and then straightening up whenever anyone comes into view..... Faster limping when they turn away).

Also if she ever gets tortured, she’s already worked out that she’s going to take as much as seems plausible and then immediately start lying her ass off. Come up with a story and stick to it. Last just long enough that it would seem like she’d broken for real, and then start giving false information out the wazoo. With this method, she hopes to never actually find the limits of her pain tolerance cause she doesn’t know what they are and she doesn’t want to.

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

Vidu tries to avoid combat as much as possible-- even when things got bad on Taris she made herself useful by transporting supplies and doing basic first aid, rather than being involved with the fighting too much.

That being said, she also has stupidly good aim. She’s been handling blasters for most of her life, and has spent a lot of time doing target practice, but has more limited practice with moving targets. It’s been more than enough to keep her alive in any combat situations that have come up, regardless.

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

When she took on her new identity, Vidu did a whole overhaul of her vocabulary. There was just too much that was indicative of where she came from-- now that it’s been a few years, she rarely makes slip-ups anymore. Also, given that 90% of her interactions are work related, she’s in customer service voice (and the stock phrases that go with that) like... Most of the time.

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

i mean the sith blew up..... her whole planet and a good number of people she considered like family. there’s no coming back from that, she’s gonna be down with sith till she dies. Outside of that, though, she’s pretty forgiving. See: going to work for the republic after they royally fucked up defending her planet. She hasn’t had many experiences with the Jedi outside of bureaucratic nonsense, but she would still pick them over the sith any day.

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

I mean she’d certainly try to avoid fighting them until they had a chance to explain themselves. If it came down to it, her aim is good enough that she can generally fake missing people by inches, if she needed to uphold a cover but still wanted to let them get away.

It would certainly warrant a good talking to later though!!

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

That time her older brother talked her into sneaking out in the middle of the night to try out a swoop bike for the first time. It turned out it was broken and minorly exploded when she turned it on, naturally alerting all adults in the area. Her brother was gone by the time they got to the scene, but Vidu had tripped getting off and was dealing with a busted nose for too long to escape.

It’s mostly embarrassing because she should have known better, her brother was always pulling shit like that.

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

Destroy the Empire. Not really. I mean yes, really, in the moments when she lets herself go really hog wild with the daydreaming, but. She doesn’t imagine that will happen in her lifetime. In the meantime, she’s content to aim for running the Strategic Information Service and getting it really set up to start crippling the Empire’s operations.

Her steps have been pretty good so far, she’s already in a position of some mild authority within the organization, and she’s slowly building a network of powerful people that value her opinion. She’ll get there someday. The ends justify the means, in this case, so...... She probably wouldn’t stoop to murder but even that is a tiny bit questionable depending on who it is.

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

Taris not being blown up would be..... nice..... Most of the things she would change are so far outside of her control that it’s not even really worth dreaming about, honestly. If Taris hadn’t been blown up, if the Mandalorian Wars hadn’t fucked them, if Taris hadn’t been a shithole in the first place-- it’s not worth thinking about.

There’s a small, secret part of her that thinks maybe a nice calm life with her family would be okay, living under the radar on Bogden with them, setting up a chill lil smuggling operation. Would be great, even, but honestly even in her daydreams she knows that she would get bored of that really quick. She doesn’t know who she is without some kind of crusade.

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

As mentioned previously, she’s a big proponent of the ends justifying the means. If it’s to protect herself or others, she has no qualms about killing or maiming, and she’s done it before. For reasons less vital than defense there would be... Hesitation. She hasn’t been put in a position to find out, yet, whether or not she’d be willing to kill someone who’s not a direct threat in order to guarantee the success of a bigger picture goal. If she did, though, she would be torn up about it for a while.

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

Vidu’s job is consuming her every waking moment, right now. It’s a good distraction, honestly, from having to think about everything that’s been lost in the fighting. Her biggest problem right at this particular moment is that one of her agents didn’t return from a mission recently, and she hasn’t been able to re-establish contact for a good while, so she probably has to recruit someone knew to re-establish coverage in their sectors.

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

okay here we go again:

1. Agents: Vidu’s first recruit was a smuggler named Del Kos, and her suspiciously well trained travelling companion, Scorpio, though he’s technically not on the payroll. Anyway, Vidu and Del get along really well and it’s actually terrible when they end up on the same planet cause Del inevitably gets Vidu drunk, and Vidu is both a lightweight and a really rowdy drunk, so Scorpio always has to step in and manage things or it ends with Del starting a bar brawl while Vidu goes full wrestling announcer voice and takes bets from her perch atop the bar.

At the moment, Vidu also manages two other official agents, but I want to leave those open for later development so I’m not gonna go too much into them.

2. Bike Skills: Vidu’s actually really good at swoop bike racing but she can’t tell anyone!! It would blow her cover!! But she is, at all times, dying inside that she doesn’t get to flaunt one of her biggest pride points. This only really becomes a problem when she sees someone watching a swoop race and can’t contain it anymore and becomes the most obnoxious sports fan right in their ear.

3. Sexuality: The girl is a big ol’ gay, zero interest in guys, but flirts with them all the time to get what she wants. She can’t help it if they’re easily manipulated!!

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

is she tho...? i mean.... is she?

jk of course she is:

she stole a whole ass identity and is living a lie she drinks more wine and caffa than she eats food she probably lets her agents get away with more than she should she’s working really hard to get everyone she works for wrapped around her finger doesn’t have any friends outside of work crosses professional boundaries with the work friends she does have her apartment looks like a whirlwind went through it at all times so does her desk someone save her poor coworkers and the janitor

#sidereal prompt 01 #2 #3 #4 #5 #prompt #musing

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aphreal42 · 5 years

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Something something Dragon Age; something something cyberpunk?

(Hey, it turns out I’ve already got this one! Or the start of it, anyway. It’s been sitting around for verging on three years, I think, so I might as well dust off what there is of it and put it out there.)

The Fadezone is another place, alongside this one. Or above it. Beneath it. Woven through. All of the above. Or none of them. An xyz grid breaks down when you’re not talking about three-dimensional space. It doesn’t matter where it is, only what it is: a whole separate world with its own rules, all governed by code that we don’t understand. Not yet.

Nobody knows how it got there. They say that when the first person plugged in a port, the Fadezone was already there, like it was waiting for us. Some people believe the code came from this single, amazing hacker, the “Maker”, but nobody’s ever found a trace of him beyond some crazy conspiracy theory “prophets” finding patterns in random junk code. Other people say that’s dogshit, no way a single guy coded the whole Fadezone; it had to be eight of them. Why eight? They have their reasons, hidden secrets, their own patterns in the code. Another sect believes the Fadezone is alive, that it made itself, and it grows and evolves and learns.

What do I believe? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is what it believes. And it -- the Fadezone -- believes that it’s far more real than we’ll ever be, and we should be wondering who -- or what -- made us.

The Fadezone is another place, somewhere your mind can go without your body. Anyone with a port can get there, at least to the daydream levels. But some of us can see the gaps and go deeper. We’re called mages. And if you’re a mage who plays in the Fadezone without the “appropriate supervision” of a phylactery chip, well, they call us apostates.

A mage who isn’t careful and goes too deep into code they shouldn’t be messing with usually brings some of that code back out with them, whether they mean to or not. We call them corpses and husks and abominations. The only question is how long it takes them to get to dead and how much else they take out along the way.

The only difference between them and me is that I’m going to do it on purpose.

The Templars might have started out well, back when the Fadezone was new, when mages had no idea what we were capable of or what risks we faced. Maybe it made sense, back then, to have someone who could stop the chaos that happened when a naive mage found a virus that corrupted them into an abomination. Maybe it made sense to have someone who could wake the Dreamers who get so entranced by the code they forget they have a body that needs to eat. Maybe the Templars were a solution once.

But now they make the disasters they were supposed to prevent.

For every mage who becomes an abomination out of careless curiosity, ten are driven to it by fear of the Templars. By anger at the phylactery chips that seep control through your blood until they can close the gaps only mages should see, jamming your port and locking you into the flat reality of bodies and pain. By threats of having your port ripped out and being stuck forever in the bleak dimness with half of your brain burned out. Abominations die, but they take Templars with them. They fight back.

The Dreamers aren’t getting lost by accident any more; deep code is a refuge from the prying eyes and mouths and hands that take apart your very self. Who knows what happens to a Dreamer when their body dies? Maybe they blink out into nothing, but maybe they become part of the code, stay in that refuge forever. It’s not such a bad dream to cling to. Not so much of a risk to take, an easier escape route than the deep red lines up your arms, a tea made from the right-wrong herbs, leaping where you know you can’t fly.

Mages will always find a way out, whatever tiny freedom they’re left with. I’m going to change that. No more desperate clawing for freedom of the self, no more seconds of relief bought with everything you have. Freedom. Real freedom. For all of us. Forever.

The light is dark, and Garrett speeds up, his heavy treads a dull thud on the dirt-covered floor. The sound echoes, but not like it should. Too quiet, too flat, like the walls are stealing the sound instead of reflecting it. Everything always sounds wrong down in the tunnels, feels wrong.

Varric rolls his eyes whenever Garrett says that, tells him that he’s crazy and imagining things. And they all know that making shit up is infringing on Varric’s territory. But if there’s nothing weird about the tunnels, why does Varric use every excuse he can come up with to avoid coming down here?

Of course, there’s the smell, the dirt, the increased chance of getting stabbed in the kidney by someone poor and desperate enough not to care about the consequences. Maybe Varric’s the smart one for not wanting to be here. Garrett has to admit the place doesn’t have a lot to recommend it. Except for one thing…

The unlit light pulses dimly, the guttering of a dying battery gasping out its last flickers of power. Garrett’s pace falters, his half-formed hopes withering as he banishes the lure of a quiet evening at home, relaxing together and taking a few moments to be utterly selfish for a change. It’s a nice dream, and Garrett tucks it away as a hope for “someday”, when things are different.

For tonight, he’ll help Anders in the clinic. It’s enough to be together, and what kind of man would he be to begrudge saving lives?

Besides, a quiet evening at home is a fantasy. They would get interrupted by someone with an urgent problem that only Garrett can fix. Allegedly. Because everything in this city would fall the rest of the way apart if he weren’t there to take care of it. If he’s going to spend the evening taking care of strangers’ problems, there are worse ways to do it than tending to the wounded. And most of those ways involve people trying to stick sharp pieces of metal into him. So the clinic it is.

Garrett grunts as he forces open the heavy door. It’s sticking again. They should do something about that. Patients shouldn’t have to risk dislocating their shoulder to get in to see the healer. Even if it would be ironically convenient.

Garrett freezes as soon as he gets through the low doorway, alerted to danger by the feel of the air a second before the shouting. His hand goes automatically to the hilt of the blade concealed at his belt as he evaluates what kind of danger Anders has gotten into tonight.

A quick scan gives him a feel for the room. The cots are empty, patients all gone, hopefully after treatment rather than out of fear. Anders’s hands are clenched, and blue energy crackles around his eyes. But he doesn’t look scared. More angry, defiant, maybe a little bit defensive.

Garrett sizes up the figure on the receiving end of his lover’s electric blue glare. Female. Elven. Angry. The energy that crackles around her hands matches the flare Anders is putting off and marks her as not a Templar. Of course, that doesn’t make her harmless. Not all threats to an apostate agitator wear the Sword of Mercy.

“No, Anders. I’ve seen the insane shit you’ve been posting lately. You need to stop.”

Someone else complaining about the damn manifesto-blog. Garrett almost wants to like her.

Anders points accusingly at her, sparks flying off his outstretched hand, his channeled energy barely in control. “You’re on their side now? Wanting to silence the truth about their oppression? I would never have taken you for a templar lover. When did they rewrite you into a good little obedient mage?”

Garrett misses the rest of the tirade as he dodges out of the way of a ball of wild, blue energy flying his way. Only after he jumps aside and bangs his shin painfully on a stray cot does he realize it’s the cat. Pounce darts around to take shelter behind Garrett’s bruised leg, energy crackling off his raised fur and exposed circuitry.

The woman’s laugh draws Garrett’s attention, the flat sound as harsh and ugly as her sneering glare. “I hate them every bit as much as you do, and don’t pretend you’ve forgotten it. The only Templar who’s gotten near me since I got out of the Tower is dead. I made damned sure of that.”

“All by yourself? Because if you’ve got that ArchDemon in your pocket and hungry for more, let’s go visit the Gallows.” Anders smirks, taunting and superior. Garrett tries not to wonder what it says about him that he finds his lover’s haughty condescension appealing, distractingly sexy even in the face of an immediate threat.

His verbal sparring partner - Surana, she must be his old “friend” from Kinloch if Anders is bringing up the ArchDemon - seems unaffected. “Maybe I didn’t put a blade through his heart, but I helped it along. If the enemy’s eager to die, let him. But there’s a difference between hating them and trying to start a war that will only get us killed. There are ways to hate them - even kill them - that are safe. You used to know that. You used to be smart. Don’t try to tell me that virus hasn’t started messing with your thoughts.”

“He’s not a virus!” Vibrant blue energy flares off of Anders’s entire body, and Garrett recoils from the intensity.

Surana flinches, too, but she doesn’t back down. “Well, it sure as hell isn’t original code. And it needs to get out of your head.”

Anders’s incandescent glow dims, the eerie blue light never leaving entirely but fading back to the usual blue sparks that crack off a mage. His mocking grin returns, and Garrett tries not to imagine the effort it costs him to regain that control as he taunts her further. “How? You want me to just delete him, the same way they erase the parts of us they don’t like? Or are you offering your port for a file transfer?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Surana’s sneer isn’t convincing. The pinpricks of sweat on her forehead shine in the clinic’s dingy lighting; she knows how close Anders is to losing himself entirely, becoming the abomination that haunts the subconscious of every mage who’s touched the Fadezone. “I’ve got the damned Blight virus poking holes all over my firewalls as it is. I’m not looking to take on any more malware.”

“If you’re not here to help, then leave.” Anders grits his teeth, blue light flaring in his eyes again. Does Surana realize that dismissal was a plea? “I don’t have time for another person pointing out problems they aren’t willing to help solve.”

“If you’d stop running your mouth about the evils of injustice and your grand plan for martyrdom long enough, I’d give you a real suggestion for how to change things. One that doesn’t involve deletion or spreading your virus to someone else stupid and screwed up enough to take it. When you decide you’re ready to listen, you know where to find me.”

#Anders #Garrett Hawke #Lathra Surana #cyberpunk AU #coarser language than I usually use #celeritassagittae

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mrsunderhill678 · 3 years

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oH gOd tHe wRiTiNg dEmOnS pOsSeSsEd mE aGaIn!!

“I've lived my whole life in a single mile, no wonder I remain stagnant. Highways littered with broken bones and roadkill, why must death follow me? I am no commander of death, I am just a man, and I fear the stench that wafts around me.” - Houston Cavanfinch

“Am I just a corpse, reanimated again and again to face the same fucking horrors?” - Houston Cavanfinch

“For if life is pain, the past is torture, and the future is a weapon, the only thing that could be peace, is nonexistence.” - Houston Cavanfinch

“Though my soul sinks into darkness, I must realize, again shall it rise at dawn, washed in new light. Though my heart lies heavy in my chest like stone, I have to learn that I can lift that weight if only I breathe.” - Mekhi Winstead

“I've spent my life defending the defenseless, so no one defended me. If you fight for those who can't, you forget to fight for yourself. You raise your gun in the name of another and forget to use it in your darkest hour. Because eventually, when you raise that gun for a thousand names, you forget you have your own.” - Mekhi Winstead

“I refuse to believe that there's no good in the world, because if there was no good, there'd be no people.” - Mekhi Winstead

“I imagine my life iz simply damage control. I am a focus test, and ze moment I find myself crawling to ze top, zey alter ze description and leave me at ze bottom of my failure, simply because life changed my goal.” - Cillian Suchett

“Olympus haz seen Hell on Earth simply because he imagined it, he haz seen angels fall because ze thought provoked him. He stirs a thousand varriors to action only to realize, zey stand against him.” - Cillian Suchett

“V'one by v'one he can vatch us fall, v'one by v'one he can vatch us rise like smoke from fire.” - Cillian Suchett

“Time is his opposer, no dynasty has ezah survived her wrath. No man, no kingdom no creature on God's Earth has withstood Time's wrath, because if she can wittle mountains and turn rivers into oceans, she can cause Olympus to vhither, to fade to bones, and though his skull shall forezah grin, no v'one vill remember ze man who defied history.” - Cillian Suchett

“Vhat is a god to time?” - Cillian Suchett

“You need a couple bucks the world will give you a penny, ya need a life worth living and life gives you a fucking noose.” - Robin Von Lamperts

“This world is kill, or be killed, slaughter, or be led to it. You can't survive without earning it, these days.” - Robin Von Lamperts

“Hope won’t kill a motherfucker but I just might.” - Robin Von Lamperts

“Life will never give you what you need, don't go begging for pennies when you hold a dollar bill, don't go begging for a life well lived when you haven't earned it. Fix your tie, breathe in, breathe out, and realize, life wasn't meant for you, it was meant for those who'll fight for it, and survive because they fucking deserve it.” - Robin Von Lamperts

“Life is pain, but at least it's not hell. Though I've got to wonder, why would a loving God constrict us in a world bound with cruelty?” - Kat Warden

“I'm lost, walking on cracked ice, hoping someday I'll drown. Maybe then a hero will run to the ice, only to realize the right thing to do, is watching me sink.” - Kat Warden

“In the pursuit of greatness I found death. I'm alone in this world, the sun has ripped my shadow from the concrete and left me with my regret.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I'm blind to myself, I worry I've lost me, or perhaps I never met me. I fear I am my trauma and nothing more. I am so haunted by the man I am and was, I fear the specter that rises from my grave.” - Burasbley Highersman

“Time is so achingly slow, the seconds tick by and they feel like years, I'm trapped in the ticking of the clock, waiting for the damn thing to strike twelve so I can finally rest in peace. But the ticker's broken, it doesn't go forward, it only rewinds and reminds me, I'm cracked.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I fear that if I met all of me all at once, I'd perish, because with that much pain, how can a man survive? Instead, I can only breathe and call it getting by.” - Burasbley Highersman

“My demons lurk just beneath my skin, battling me from within, locking me in superstition and grief.” - Salvation Sinfritz

“I do not own myself, I belong to another, I am a puppet in the play, dancing, forgetting someone else holds my strings. And if they so please they can rip the strings from my back and leave me with my scarred flesh.” - Salvation Sinfritz

“I have died a thousand times, and I wonder if ever I was meant to live.” - Salvation Sinfritz

“I have seen the worst the world has to offer, for I have stared into the river that bares my reflection. I am the ugliest parts of this world, wrapped into a mortal vessel that can bleed, bones that can break and flesh that can be cut.” - Starburden Vaganrok

“What's a god to a man who is doomed? What is the after life to a man that seeks to conquer? If I can conquer myself, then the gods should fear what I strive for next. They created me, but do not hold the power to contain me.” - Starburden Vaganrok

“I stare into my reflection, and watch as the water ripples, for every man slain leaves a ripple in time. I end lives as I would toss a pebble into the sea to watch the water create waves that mean nothing to the tide.” - Starburden Vaganrok

“The enemy is me, because I'm apart of the problem, man! My mouth is shut because I fear the punishment the powerful shall give me, but in the end, all that does is transfer my pain to another.” - Leopolo Diamon

“The rule was never golden, no one will treat other's how they wish to be treated. To a man in power, every one is a stepping stone, the stairway to heaven is paved in good deeds, but to those who don't know grace, the path out of hell is paved in the backs of those they can step over in order to reach heaven.” - Leopolo Diamon

“The rule's broken, and has only been painted gold, to us, it is precious, but fool's gold never brings us anything, after all.” - Leopolo Diamon

“I read between the lines of the scripture, I blur the lines between light and dark, holy and sinful. Am I a saint, or a duality?” - Graham Davison

“I am a prophet of a different kind, sipping poison and preaching it's taste to those in the pews.” - Graham Davison

“We are born sinners, but I never made a name for myself amongst the rubble, I am filth and dirt, grime on the bottom of a dog's paw.” - Graham Davison

“I heard long ago that God loves all, but does he love those who says Amen as a curse? Does he love those who's prayers are damning? There's blood in the water of my lies, and these days, I'm begging to bleed.” - Graham Davison

“Before God said, "Let there be light," was it all dark? And did he ever look into my soul, and whisper, "Let there be dark?” - Graham Davison

“The path to hell is paved in my belief, and the stairway to heaven is paved in what I cannot have.” - Graham Davison

“Do not damn us, for what we could not survive. Monsters do not exist, except for in the minds of those who seek to demonize a vulnerable man.” - Nak’Tilli Sinsbane

“These terrors of my life are forgotten by me, but remembered by those within that hold it. Life is beautiful, even when you're different, even when you're fragile.” - Nak’Tilli Sinsbane

“People paint me as a monster, they conjure up images in their heads of a killer with a bloodied knife and seven personalities meant just to end you, but that's not true. I am human, we all are, and we all have a right to live.” - Nak’Tilli Sinsbane

“We are strong, we refuse to be buried under the hate. I'll never understand how a man could damn something for the simple fact that in their mind, it doesn't exist. Life is a beautiful masquerade of everything we've been through, the good, the ugly, the horrible, we are everything we should be and everything we've ever wanted to be. And it's okay, to be who you didn't think you'd be.” - Nak’Tilli Sinsbane

“Do not bury yourself under something you can never change, and please, if life treats you like dirt, remember flowers grow from the soil.” - Nak’Tilli Sinsbane

“I do not seek my cure, I seek the vial from which I was first poisoned. Perhaps it is in death the missing gaps of my life shall flash before my eyes.” - Angelo Lariplank

“They call me mad man, they call me sinner, they call me beast, but I am human, and that's all I've ever been.” - Angelo Lariplank

“I cannot close my eyes, for I fear what I may do in a single moment of darkness, let alone a night of it.” - Angelo Lariplank

“Isn't it strange, how we're the killers of our own destiny? God could watch over us, but he can't save us from ourselves, he gave us free will and forgot that with the connotations of destiny, comes lack of control. With fate, comes the morbid reality of being pulled along on string and twine that you do not weave.” - Angelo Lariplank

“Umanity 'as been a doomed race ever since God gave Adam and Eve da' choice 'a sin. Look at us now, squabblin' amongst bloody rubble, New York is a graveyard 'a concrete specters and railroads, lost in da' false image 'a freedom.” - Dimitrious Ricondo

“Dis' world ain't a bloody brave one, it's given us everyfin', and we've given it fuck all.” - Dimitrious Ricondo

“It's a soldier's job ta fight da' oppression 'e sees every day, but most men just stay silent. If your mouth's shut you're part 'a da problem, da empire 'a silence is deadlier than da brotherhood 'a action.” - Dimitrious Ricondo

“Da weight in my mind would break me neck if I let one more ounce 'a regret in.” - Dimitrous Ricondo

“I am a man forged in da' fires 'a my own self worf', burnt down ta ash by all I was so I could become all I am. Da' strongest men are da' ones who 'ave let pieces of themselves die so they can live on.” - Dimitrious Ricondo

“Life ain't about da' end 'a it, it's about how long you're willin' ta stand. So what'll ya do, mate? Die wif' no name worf' rememberin', or live wif' a name dat meant everyfin', ta da ones who stood by your bloody side?” - Dimitrous Ricondo

“It would be just as cruel to lie to me as it would be to tell the truth, either I'm crazy or a monster, I can't handle both.” - Carson Brady

“My thoughts are nagging jesters, juggling truths and lies, turning them into a powder I can't fucking differentiate from. Besides, aren't truth and lies just different shades of the same damn spectrum?” - Carson Brady

“Am I just a Queen's fucking Gambit? United we stand, united we fall they say, until the moment the pawn becomes unnecessary. Am I the pawn sacrificed for an advantage against the enemy?” - Carson Brady

“We are a united nation divided by our fucking unity.” - Carson Brady

“They say united we stand, united we fall, but if you look just a little closer, you'll find that united we stand, alone we fucking fall.” - Carson Brady

“Have you ever thought that you're not yourself, that to die, would be to finally be you?” - Romulus Sparrows

“All I have is my revolver, but, this little thing? It only kills the bad ones. The false prophets, the men selling a false dream, those who wish me harm. And sometimes, me.” - Romulus Sparrows

“Everything slips through my fingers eventually, so I wouldn't be surprised if I already have.” - Romulus Sparrows

“Perhaps old Romulus has gone mad, perhaps, I'm not even here, sometimes I fear I am another's delusion. For all I know I am a figment of imagination, the false light to someone else's mosaic.” - Romulus Sparrows

“I fear all that stands, all that walks, all that breathes. I can hear the whispers of the trees and in the song of the birds is blood and the sins of many. They who fly see all, friend. They soar above us and rule the skies, whilst we have only the land to wander. And it is no glory at all, living in a world gone made whilst you yourself are mad.” - Romulus Sparrows

“I am no creature so grand, often I wonder if I am just a peasant, and every shadow is a king whom I shall bow to. Does every speck of darkness wear a crown? Is all light enslaved to the shadow?” - Romulus Sparrows

“I heard long ago that the man who questions all is the man who must be questioned, and if I hold so many questions about the world, am I the single one I can't answer?” - Romulus Sparrows

“In a world of the brave and the soldiers, how can a coward like me survive? Do I sacrifice myself and become one of the brave, or am I supposed to be another corpse crushed under the snow? I've seen too many goodbyes, and too few hellos, I'm scared of the future, because it's a fight, and I'm no warrior. I've lost so much, how am I to understand myself when the people that made me who I am are... Gone?” - Diamond Valos

“I was never strong, I've always been the one crushed under the rubble, and with a spirit so weak I must wonder, when the day dies, as shall I?” - Diamond Valos

“In River I see who I used to be, but even now I can see that changing. Perhaps, every remnant of the scared girl I used to be is dying, and I have to rise anew. In this brave new world... I suppose I must be brave, too. If I'm to pick up a blade, I'll do so in the name of love, in the name of Madeline.” - Diamond Valos

“My life will never be complete, not without those I love, but the life of the man who put them down, will be. But is it still a sin, to kill a man who's killed? I fear I'm damning myself, but if that's the price of keeping my promise... So be it. So be it.” - Diamond Valos

“Maybe I'm the one who suffers and carries on, or maybe I'm just running like a wolf on the path that leads to the hunters, but so long as I carry Madeline's promise in my heart, and River in my arms, I will run. I will fight. I will be something more than who I was. Because the girl I was isn't strong enough to survive this world... Perhaps she's not dead, but reborn, baring the war-paint of her promise, and the scars of her tomorrow with not fear... But for once in her life, with pride.” - Diamond Valos

“Love is no war, we're not soldiers of hearts and valor, we're people, living, breathing, people, and isn't that all we can aspire to be? War can come our way but we'll fight, we're lovers and soldiers, facing a war some would say we can't possibly win, but they forget that the sun rises after every period of darkness. And even if clouds blot the sun, and rain patters down, we can find solace in the fact that flowers will bloom from the tragedy, and the harvest of our love is so much greater than what our enemies choose to reap.” - Rea Myers

“My whole life I've known love, my fathers have always taught me that love was never meant to be a burden, it was always meant to be a dance. Sure, it's tiring sometimes, but when have you ever seen someone on the dance floor without a tear in their eye? Tears don't always mean pain, tears are just the language of emotions we can't speak.” - Rea Myers

“I will dance through this life with a smile damn it, war will not break me down. It can rain, I can bleed, I can be put through hell but damn it! If I don't come out smiling what's it for? If I have love, and I have people I can rely on, and if I have myself and my smile, I'll never fall. I'll always be okay, because war is a fight, and love is my shield, my ax and my army.” - Rea Myers

“I am as much a part of nature as war is peaceful, I am rotted and cruel, corrupt and dark, my roots weren't never burrowed, just dug out from the soil and left to fester.” - Samuel Envers

“Oh lord take my soul, bless my little black heart, I've lost who I am and gained everythin' I should be. From two gallows do I swing, ropes of war and strings of morality, frayin' and beggin' to just let me go. I am a blood stained feud between me, myself and I, and I've learned, two wars do I face. One is fought with blades and guns, the other fought between red and black blood, both fightin' for dominion and leaderhood.” - Samuel Envers

“You could face me in all your glory, but you'd die in it.” - Samuel Envers

“All it takes ta make a widow is a dead man, and all it takes ta make an orphan is two.” - Samuel Envers

“Lay me at the bottom 'a the river, drown me in the blood I've spilled, cause the only possible thing that could make me apart 'a nature, is my burial.” - Samuel Envers

“Secrets bury you underneath themselves, but despite the secrets I hold in my heart, I can claw my way out of this coffin and rise again. The dark has tried so long to bury me, but in one way or another, love always shields me. It keeps me safe when I forget to fight for myself. And I have Zoey to thank for that, in her eyes I can see the rising of the sun and in her heart I can hear the ocean wave's lapping at my legs, beckoning to peace. She's in my heart and my soul and I wouldn't have it any other way.” - Linda Prattens

“My strength is built upon every lie that threatened to break me, and here I stand, unbroken.” - Linda Prattens

“I don't intend to just survive, do you really think the flower doesn't bloom again after the killing frost? Nothing good ever stayed down.” - Linda Prattens

“I'd ask for an amen and a couple of prayers if I thought it'd save me, but I've spent so long with the lord I fear he's abandoned me. Someone I used to know always told me secrets bury you underneath themselves, but she never told me just how deep they dig. I fear I'm so deep down in the dirt that God can't hear my cries, for I can't say anything past the soil in my throat.” - Jett Layden

“The only thing that'll save me is grace, the kindness of the human heart. But most people don't have that, these days. The world ripped it from them and left nothing but a heart of black.” - Jett Layden

“But oh father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Does karma exist, or is that just a concept of man to justify revenge? I do not wish harm and those who have wronged me, only peace in their hearts and a revival. I was born a sinner, but I don't got to stay that way. If I became karma, I'd become vengeance, and if I become vengeance, I become Judas. I become King Saul, and I have no intention of becoming a traitor to myself.” - Jett Layden

“Da strong always seek ta break da weak, for dey fear what'll 'appen when da weak become da' strong. You should fear da' pup that bares it's teef' and grows inta it's fur, aye?” - Rowena Joy

“We can't change who we were wifout changin' who we are.” - Rowena Joy

“Ya can live life in fear dat it one day will end, or you could live life knowin' it nevah ends so long as you leave goot memories in da 'earts 'a those who loved ya.” - Rowena Joy

“Wif da love 'a family standin' by my side, 'ow could I evah lose?” - Rowena Joy

“Love and be loved, fight if it means sumfin' worf' fightin' for, and it's my belief, dat if you 'ave nuffin' worf' fightin' for, you 'ave nuffin' worf' livin' for. So I spose wif' family and love by me side, I 'ave sumfin' worf' fightin' for, sumfin' worf' breathin' for, and when da sun sinks inta da night, I ‘ave sumfin' worf dyin' for, sumfin' worf' breathin' me last for. And dat's all I evah bloody need, mate.” - Rowena Joy

“Life isn't about the consequences, it's about what ya did to earn em, and I think, if I always fight for truth, all I'll get is freedom, huh? The truth can be so hard to find, you've got to dig for it some days, because others find themselves burying it. But I won't stop digging until I find the truth, because it was never meant to be buried.” - Jamie McGary

“Liars are more common than good men these days, but hey, even if the many outweigh the few, the few can still fight.” - Jamie McGary

“Something you don't know is always worth learning.” - Jamie McGary

“War can come, but we'll fight, our fists are enough to survive the battle and our hearts are enough to keep us going.” - Jamie McGary

“Some see impossible as a roadblock, but I see it as an invitation to something greater, something new, and something worth learning.” - Jamie McGary

“These midnight thoughts are all I got, cause I can only see as far as the palm of my hand.” - Kristoff Washko

“I am so lost in these halls that I've forgotten what it was to be found. Perhaps one day I'll find Neverland, or perhaps, I'll never land. You could pray for me, but that won't save me in the land of no salvation.” - Kristoff Washko

“I am beaten down and bruised, trodden over by the overwhelming majority, no one cares about the missing man, all but those who knew him.” - Kristoff Washko

“There was a time I could look death in the eyes and say, "You won't kill me, not like you could," but now I look him in those crooked eyes of his and say, "Fulfill your promise, motherfucker." - Kristoff Washko

“I won't be the last one standing, nor will I be the first to fall, for so many have fallen before me. I'm just one of the many to fall.” - Kristoff Washko

“Life has never favored me, I am a victim to it, a prey to the great beyond, but as long as I can run, life cannot catch me.” - Karolina Firesbane

“I've learned that the strongest bonds come from the hardest situations, and I look at my daughter, knowing that though it's been so, hard, she's worth it.” - Karolina Firesbane

“My whole life I've been drowning in darkness, no wonder I'm drawn to the flame. It conquers the dark and brings warmth, yet it has the same power as the dark, the same ability to destroy. It reflects human nature, as often we fight fire with fire. I have been at war with rival tribes, but war never brought peace. All war brings is death and another war if you're lucky enough to survive. No war ever brought us love. All it gave us was something to fear.” - Karolina Firesbane

“Blood has spilled on the grass and corrupted nature's pallet, the dead rise and give us every reason to fear death itself, for it no longer sets us free. Beasts of wax candle flesh and hungry eyes hunt us down, death has sent his reapers to hunt us. In this new age, we're all prey, and all we can do is pray.” - Karolina Firesbane

“I am a warrior, and though death wishes to hunt us, I will not go down so easy. As a child I was made strong, and in the reflections of the river I see not a beast, but a loved woman who knows what it is to hunt and be hunted, to love, and be loved.” - Karolina Firesbane

“It's a brave new world out there, no wonder soldiers are rising up and farmers find themselves picking up their shovels and marching into war. Perhaps we've learned you don't have to be a soldier to lead a revolution, all you need is a dream, and the will to catch it.” - Shilo Heartsworth

“Primaline always told me that the life of a soldier is one bound to a code of honor she didn't follow, and I've learned that most soldiers ain't honorable, just lookin' ta kill. It ain't bout the gun in your hand, it's bout who the fuck you are. A gun can kill two men with a single bullet, the one it's aimed toward, and the one pullin' the trigger.” - Shilo Heartsworth

“So farmers, soldiers and saints, raise your pitchforks, guns and crosses, cause all ya need to power a revolution is a dream of something greater. This world weren't meant ta die, and neither were we. So be greater than the cause they give you, be greater than the cause you gave yourself, cause our destiny ain't ta bleed out, our destiny, is to God damn live.” - Shilo Heartsworth

“You can see life as a struggle, or an opportunity to change and grow. All you ever need to get by, is a new perspective, and a brave smile to push forward into the unknown, because that's all we can strive for, really.” - Vinceta Dalliinfritz

“Life only wishes to kill the ones who fight because they're on the front lines. But in your life, the front lines is where you should be. Fighting for yourself and those you love.” - Vinceta Dallinfritz

“I've seen pain, I've seen blood spill and good men die, but I won't let life break me, I won't let my sorrow be my coffin.” - Vinceta Dallinfritz

“Humans aren't monsters, we just mimic them thinking it our destiny, but no human ever became a wolf, no man ever grew claws and howled into the night. We're all human, it's time to start acting like it.” - Vinceta Dallinfritz

“Life isn't about a twenty dollar bill or a raise, it's about family, man, family and love is all you ever need. I was a man with nothing, but look at me now, I couldn't be happier with the choices I've made, even the ones that ended in failure. I once looked at all my mistakes and said to myself, "Man, how could you do that?" But now, I say, "What did you learn?" I've learned through every experience I've ever had, I'm a culmination of every day I've lived, and maybe I'm not a masterpiece, but none of us are. I don't want perfect, I've found everything in the mess of it all.” - Glenn Drewell

“My wife, Kiasha, she's my strength, I can look into her eyes and know, she's the better half of me. She'll always be my number one, two and three. I've learned that even a man with nothing, can have everything if he has love. For himself, even. My life is a whole lot more than good enough, I'm proud to be me, and I'm proud to look at my family and see something worth fighting for it.” - Glenn Drewell

“My kids, man, my baby girls, I can still see them at the age of five, baking cookies with Kiasha, throwing flour at each other. It was the biggest war of the century, the battle of flour and cookie dough, they even dragged me into it. My favorite shirt still has bits of flour coming off it.” - Glenn Drewell

“I don't got a twenty dollar bill, I don't got a high paying check or a single cent in my wallet, but I do got family, and man, isn't that what matters? As far as I'm concerned, I'm the richest man alive, because in the eyes of my family, I see all the wealth and diamonds in the world, and God, if I had one thing to say, it's that, "It's worth it, man, always.” - Glenn Drewell

“I ain't a hero, I ain't a saint, just a man doin' what's right in a world that gets on it's knees and begs for my death.” - Malik Druvebecker

“I won't stand for the murder 'a the weak, you shouldn't have ta swoop down and cut the throats 'a the weak ta become one 'a the strong. In my eyes, that makes ya weak, and one 'a the real strong ones gon' swoop down and cut your throat.” - Malik Druvebecker

“Justice flows in crimson rivers and corpses in the crick, and sadly, it ain't the cruel that fill this river 'a souls.” - Malik Druvebecker

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, Cyrus Hollow, but it's me, who's gon' break you. You have seen this world through eyes tinted red and cruel, but if you're the devil, I'll act as the sinner if only ta be sent ta your burnin' sanctuary, just ta slit your throat. I got two bullets in my chamber, etched with a name that is yours, and a name that is mine, and I've been waitin' to pull the trigger ever since you took my life and made it another of your fucking conquests.” - Malik Druvebecker

“Hell's gone, all the devils are dead, the angels lay painted red on the damn floor, all that's left is humanity, and ain't that the cruelest fate 'a all? To be stuck in a world 'a monsters trapped in human skin?” - Malik Druvebecker

“I've spent so long hunting the man that took everything from me that I almost took everything from myself. I've taken up my own beck and call, and it almost cost me everything.” - Octavia Cross

“I'm a crack in my castle of glass, I'm the only shard left, lying in a kingdom of rubble. Centuries could pass and I'd only dig deeper into the dirt.” - Octavia Cross

“I fear I can't rely on myself, there's blood on the writing of my tale, my history is stained with blood money, regret, and memories I never had. Empire's fall in a single day, and I suppose the empire of me fell the day Walt ran with my daughter in his fucking arms.” - Octavia Cross

“Perhaps Neverland isn't for just the lost girls and boys, perhaps it's for anyone who ever dared have a dream when they couldn't breathe. Sometimes, the only thing keeping you alive, is a dream, something you can't quite reach, but you have to believe you will.” - Patricia Wellburn

“Most of those I lost still walk.” - Patricia Wellburn

“I think life is about more than what we've lost, it's about what we've gained. My life has been sorrowful, it's been full of pain, heartbreak, but at the end of my rainbow I found love, family, a dream worth having. If I stand tall in the face of my fear nothing can break me, I'll always stand tall, even if I'm a little smol. So long as my heart beats, I will love, and so long as I have Macy, and I have Luna, I'll be alive. Because it is in their hearts that mine learned to beat. I no longer hold on to the sorrows of my past, because I hold onto the people I love, it is with them that my sun rises, and in me their love blooms.” - Patricia Wellburn

“Love can never be selfish, but hate always is.” - Enzo Evans

"The end of over a million lives knocks at my door." - Cedric Popovici

"The gods don't seem much interested in fair, my friend. Look at how the dark outnumbers the light of the stars, how the shade of the trees overwhelms the light that trickles through. This world is darker than you would like to believe, because if this world was kind, I would not exist." - Valskirith Deskgrotirr

"I am nothing more than a piece of flesh stuck between Dr. Emory's teeth." - Changreta Alderbright

"I'd say I'm a tragedy, but dose' one day bloody end." - Angel Benson "The pullin' 'a this here trigger is like the beatin' 'a my heart, it's the only fuckin' thing that keeps me alive." - Sampson O’Connel

“You want to fuck with the O'Connels on the off chance that you'll make it ta sunrise?” - Sampson O’Connel

"I have fought wars in countries you ain't heard 'a, killed men with names I never learned, and you, Mr. O'Connel, are no fucking different. You want a fight? I'll give you war." - Casimiro Boheken

"And what're you gonna do, huh? Fire bullets off til' ya run out? Cause you will. You don't have enough God damn bullets to cut the head from this dynasty." - Casimiro Boheken

“Those who built the tower of Babel never expected ta fall, the confederates who fought the civil war didn't expect ta lose, and the human population didn't expect ta fuckin' plummet. Your threats don't mean a damn thing ta a man who expects ta die, general. So pull that trigger, or don't, either way, I win." - Sampson O’Connel

"As a soldier you've spilled so much blood, now you'll fuckin' drown in it." - Clayborne Pettygore

"You wanna kill me, that it? Now Natasha, you can kill a man with good intentions, but that don't make you a good man, makes ya just as much 'a killer as the man lyin' in a pool 'a his own blood. Sure, you can put me down, think yourself high and mighty, but you're just a killer like the rest of us, so don't come preachin' ta me with your bullshit, cause I see right through it." - Clayborne Pettygore

#writing #author #character dialouge #dialouge #oneliners

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homeofthelonelywriter · 7 years

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Friends to Lovers Pt. 11

(A/N) Hey there! Here’s the next part, but PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS! This chapter is about abuse and the readers father! If you’re not comfortable reading it, please don’t! I’ll write another ‘Part 11‘ without the father and post it over the weekend. Don’t pressure yourself into reading it, kay? And if you need to talk, I’m always there for you!

Warnings: abuse, violence

Tags:

@beltz2016 @sammysgirl1997 @magellan-88 @iammarylastar @scorpio2009 @buried-in-books @supdarling @hello-i-dont-have-a-name @kenzieam @jaihardy @pathybo @fuckthatfeeling @letssweetvivialwaysloved

If anyone else wants to be tagged, just say so :)

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eleventh part (2)

twelfth part

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Being used to waking up early, I did so the next morning. Most of the others, including Xavier and Lucy, were still asleep. I took the opportunity to take a shower and put on some new clothes. I chose a tight black jeans, my new shirt and some combat boots. Jup, I really like the way Dauntless dress. Making my way to the cafeteria, I brought the glasses back. The old witch shot me an evil glance, while the kind old lady smiled at me. As usual I got in line for breakfast and sat down at my usual table. I thought that this day would be nice and relaxing. Chilling in the dorms, training a little bit, just for the record. The perfect day before the second phase would start. Soon, Xavier and Lucy joined me, but we were soon ushered out of the big hall, so the other could set up everything for visiting day. We decided to walk around the shops and later go back to see if Xavier’s or Lucy’s family or friends came. Lucy and Xavier were currently arguing if they should get a tattoo and weighed down the pros and cons, when someone grabbed my elbow. “Is he coming?” Eric pressed his chest into my back, whispering into my ear. I never thought about that. The possibility that my father could come today. “I don’t think so. I’m probably dead to him.” My answer was just as quiet as his whisper and laced with fear. Eric nodded and squeezed my elbow. A silent oath that he would keep me safe. After he left I went back to my friends, but they didn’t notice my change in mood. They were way too excited about getting their first tattoo. Xavier went first and got himself a little owl on the inside of his wrist. Lucy chose a tree that loses its leafs. Both of them were such babies and chose the new way that hurt less. I still had to hold their hands throughout the whole procedure. A few seats down was Eric, getting a new tattoo. This time on his back. “Take over for me, will you Xavier?” He threw me a look but took Lucy’s hand. I walked towards Eric and saw that the same woman that did my tattoo, also did his. She was beautiful. Long dark hair, light green eyes and full, red lips. Jealousy rose inside me but I didn’t acknowledge it. “Hey sweetie! How’s your tattoo doing?” She stopped following the lines on Eric’s back and turned towards me with a smile on her lips. “It’s perfect! Thank you so much again. I love it!” I grinned, the jealousy put aside. “You have a tattoo?” Eric chimed in the conversation, turning his head, so he could look at me. “Yeah, show it (Y/N)! It’s a masterpiece!” The woman ushered me to turn around and I did. Pulling my hair over one shoulder, I showed my tattoo through the shirt. “Believe me Eric! It looks even better without the shirt.” I had to laugh at the woman’s praise to herself. “Maybe she’ll show me someday.” Eric licked his lips, causing me to roll my eyes. “In your dreams Mister Coulter!” He chuckled and shook his head. The woman, not used to this kind of behaviour from Eric, shot me a strange look. “Can I draw on you again today? I love your skin, it’s so soft.” Chuckling I nodded and walked over to the pre-drawn designs. I looked through them for I don’t know how long, but I couldn’t find anything that spoke to me. Mia and Xavier were called to the dinner hall, apparently their parents, friends or whatever came to visit. Meanwhile, I continued searching for a new tattoo, but soon gave up on the quest, walking back to Eric. The woman was putting some cream on his tattoo and wrapped it up. “Found nothing?” Eric stood up, shirt in hand and turned towards me. “Nope.” “That’s a shame, sweetie.” I smiled at the woman and turned to leave, not expecting Eric to stop me. “Wait a sec.” He bended down to whisper in the woman’s ear. Nodding at his idea, she waved me over to the seat and I obeyed. “Where do you want it?” She looked at Eric, ignoring me completely. “I think the wrist would be a good place…like around it.” The woman nodded and immediately tried to get to work, but I stopped her by pulling my arm away. “Wait, what symbol did you choose?” I looked at Eric, who wore his usual smirk. “Do you trust me?” He leaned against a pillar, crossing his arms across his still naked chest. “Uh, no!” “Well, bad for you.” He grins, and the woman reached for my arm. “It’s a good design sweetheart, I swear.” “I do trust you, but he is a whole different story.” Eric chuckled and threw his shirt in my face. “Keep it up there so you can’t steal a glance.” Rolling my eyes, I leant back and closed my eyes, that were still hidden under his black shirt. The procedure began. It hurt, but not as bad as last time, after all, this time I was expecting it. And his smell, oh this smell, kept my mind away from the pain. Yesterday I wanted to punch this guy in the face with all my strength, and now, he chose a tattoo for me and stayed with me while it’s getting put on my skin. And one question remains, can we still go back to how it was? I want my best friend back, but I’m not even sure that this friend is still inside him. Still, I’m going to try to get him back. I lied there for about an hour, before the woman took Eric’s shirt off my face and grinned at me. Looking down, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Flowers and stripes ran around my wrist. On the inside, she worked a small ‘E’ into the design. “So, what do you think?” Eric still stood there, staring at me with curious eyes. “I think, that you should put on your shirt.” I threw said shirt at him and he, for once, obeyed and put it on, still staring at me. “It’s beautiful, thank you.” I stood up and squeezed his arm. “Not a problem, kiddo.” “Oh, shut up! I’m not that young!” I hit his chest, causing him to chuckle. “Whatever you say!” He kept teasing me, while we walked to the checkout-desk. Reaching for my point card, Eric caught my arm and put his own on the counter. “All on me.” The woman nodded and proceeded to fumble with Eric’s card, having him sign the receipt at the end. “You didn’t have to pay for me…” We walked next to each other, but he just rolled his eyes at my comment. “And you could just accept it and thank me for it.” Chuckling I nodded, but said no more. “Y/N! Someone is waiting for you in the dinner hall!” I exchanged looks with Eric and cautiously followed Four. Entering the hall, my eyes immediately found him through the crowd. I took a step backwards and hit something hard. Looking behind me, Eric stood there, glaring daggers at the man, obviously waiting for me. “I…I can’t Eric. Please, get me out of this room.” Eric obviously noticed the panic in my eyes, nodded and grabbed my hand, to lead me out, just as a blonde lady called his name. Jeanine Matthews. Of course, she would be here too. For some reason, Eric immediately tugged at my hand and hid me behind his back. As if he had the feeling he had to protect me from her. Well, she isn’t nice, but the person he should protect me from stood a few feet behind her. “Miss Matthews. Can I help you?” Eric was obviously trying to be polite, his grip on my hand tightening. His hand, the only thing keeping me grounded right now. The only thing keeping me from either running out of the room, or walking up to the man, that oppressed me my whole live and beating his ass. I honestly don’t know which would be more likely. “I just wanted to talk to you and Y/N. Erudite misses it’s two brightest heads.” Her fake smile almost made me vomit. “I’m afraid we don’t have time at the-“ “But isn’t that Y/N’s father? Doesn’t she want to at least say hello?” She leaned to the side so he could look at me. “I’d rather no-“ Not letting me finish, she grabbed my free hand and dragged me towards my father. The only positive thing at this moment, was Eric’s hand, still holding onto mine. “Y/N.” My father curtly nodded at me. “Father.” I didn’t look at him. I just couldn’t bring myself to look at the man that tortured me so many years. He still had the glint in his eyes, the one telling me to hide in my room and listen to him if I didn’t want a beating. He didn’t change at all, and even though I was first in the rankings, I felt like the little girl back in Erudite. Weak and pathetic. “Can we please go?” I looked at Eric, squeezing the life out of his hand. He nodded and turned to leave. “Y/N, wait. I do wish to speak to you.” Ignoring the man, I hoped to never see again, I followed Eric through the crowd. My father often lost his composure when we were at home and he was drunk, but he never lost it in public. Well, until now. He grabbed my arm and spun me around, with such force, that Eric had to let go of my hand. He slapped me across the face, silencing the whole room. I held my right cheek, where he struck me. “You listen to me, or do I need to put you in your place?!” He pushed me to the floor, and began to pull his belt out of the loops. But before he could strike me with it, Eric had him on the floor, punching him in the face and knocking him out. In the meantime, Four, Max and a few other leaders appeared to see what all the commotion was about. “What happened?” Four and another leader walked to my father, making sure he was only unconscious and not dead. “He attacked an initiate, his daughter.” Eric told Max what happened after he helped me up and made sure that I was alright. “…/N? Y/N?” Max stood in front of me waving his hand. Finally, my eyes focused again. “Has this happened before? Did he hurt you while you were still in Erudite?” Not being able to answer, I just nodded, blinking rapidly. My eyes moved through the room, noticing all the stares, till they found Eric’s blue ones. My safe haven. Slowly I felt myself falling, but someone was there to catch me. Of course, it was Eric. Just as back then, it didn’t matter when or where I fell, he caught me. Max instructed something I couldn’t hear. Eric picked me up, one arm under my knees, the other one around my shoulders. After a few moments, he started to walk. I just hid my face between his neck and shoulder, letting silent tears flow. With changing factions, I hoped to finally be safe from him, but even here, in Dauntless, he can reach me. I’ll never be safe, will I?

#divergent imagine #divergent eric imagine #eric coulter #eric coulter imagine #divergent #eric x reader #dauntless #dauntless imagine #initation #eric fanfiction #eric fanfic

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jejemonmon · 7 years

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Analysis + Semi-Theory: Zen's relationships with other people (including the RFA)

Yo, so this has been on my mind for a while and I just had to share my thoughts with you, because you made a post before about Rika that had some similar points and I wanted to add on to that.

You know how Rika made had a “connection” with each RFA member (aside from Jaehee) that made them agree to join the RFA and caused them to be so torn up about her “death” and just generally really affected by her in every way?

Logically speaking, Zen should have been just as impacted by her as Yoosung, Jumin, and Saeyoung and really emotionally distraught and traumatized by her “death” as a result. She sought him out, she was his earliest fan when no one else was, she attempted to made him successful and give him a “family” with the RFA.

But he always kind of avoided her. He sidestepped and rejected her help and friendship most of the time. He even declined to join the RFA at first, as I recall someone saying in one of the chat rooms. He only joined once V saved his life. Even when the game starts and also throughout the game, Zen always keeps the rest of the RFA at an arms distance, save for V, who he allowed to get up to his elbow, so to speak, because he saved Zen’s life and gained some of his trust. He doesn’t seem to act like his true self at all around most of the RFA. No one really knew anything about his past until MC shows up.

It’s just really interesting and weird to me. People always brush Zen off as being “less important” than the other RFA members, and that just makes me roll my eyes. Honestly, him deliberately keeping himself somewhat disconnected from Rika made me like him more. Because while some people really liked the bigger overarching plot, it wasn’t what I signed up for when I decided to play an otome game. (I prefer the universe theories about the game itself and Zen knowing he’s in a game and Seven and V and the wizards and etc.) I wanted to learn and fall in love with the individual characters themselves and not groan and roll my eyes every time the convoluted plot got in the way and took up time and then boom you and the character you’re pursuing magically decide to share deep feelings for each other with little to no buildup or progression of said feelings. At least that’s how it is during the excessively plot-smothered Deep Routes, which just felt like a hot mess tbh.

I got off on a slight tangent there. But I always think of Zen as someone who was able to see through Rika’s bullshit at least somewhat and didn’t become so overly attached and emotionally invested in her. (That’s one reason why the secret ends felt so OOC to me. Zen would have never just settled for being kept in the dark by Jumin, Seven, and Jaehee, and while he’s impulsive, he’s too detached from Rika to want to send her away. Although that might be the “white knight” in him who always feels like he has to speak out and protect the oppressed. Idk.) Zen was always the one who, while emotional and hotheaded, actually reacted like a sane person should in some of the extreme situations - the bomb, Jumin keeping MC in his apartment, V keeping secrets, forcing a stranger to jump into a dead girl’s job without thinking of how she feels, etc. The rest of the RFA is so blinded by Rika that they ignore logic most of the time and do things that don’t make sense because “it’s what Rika would have wanted”. They’re so caught up in this dead girl’s charity organization that has itself basically become super shady and conspiratorial, ignoring a lot of things that are so obviously sketchy and borderline illegal. And yes, I’m including Jumin, Mr. “I’m so logical”, who threatens the MC if she doesn’t agree to join the RFA and also declares she’s useless and obsolete if she doesn’t fulfill Rika’s duties. Like, jeez, mob boss much? He basically is one in every way except for official title.

So back to my main point. I think people tend to overlook how emotionally isolated Zen is from the rest of the RFA, something that he probably did deliberately. He doesn’t really like anyone in the RFA, except for V, and he mentions that a lot. He never believes that any concern or help that the RFA gives him is genuine. He doesn’t believe Jaehee is actually his fan, he doesn’t think Seven was actually trying to help him out (he thinks Seven was just being goofy and his weird trolling self), and the whole debacle with Jumin which everyone knows about so I’m not gonna go into (and tbh I still question Jumin’s sincerity and motive other than personal and financial gain bc Zen would owe him, so I don’t blame Zen for thinking the same way). He doesn’t believe anyone could actually care about him. He only knocks down some of his walls and lets V in a little bit because V fucking saved his life. But other than that, Zen has isolated himself so much emotionally that he hasn’t formed real relationships with any of the RFA members except V, nor does he really trust them, like them, or consider them friends. He doesn’t open up to them, and he keeps on the same mask that he shows to everyone else. He can’t afford to let anyone in, because they’ll just reject and betray him like his family.

Think about it too - Zen doesn’t really have any friends outside of the RFA either, like at all, save for a few people from his biker gang days, who I doubt he was his complete and true self around either. He’s super independent and relies only on himself, because that’s the only person he has. But he’s so desperate for affection and validation, which is why he seems desperate for a girlfriend yet simultaneously rejects so many people who are interested in him under the guise of focusing on work. When in reality, and he’s said this and there’s proof from VN flashbacks and in game events, that no one has actually treated Zen like a real person, or tried to understand him enough to warrant him opening up to them, except for V and the MC. That’s why he falls for the MC so fast, because she treats him unlike anyone else has before, like a person, and actually cares about what he wants. (Remember, V lies and keeps a lot of things from Zen, but Zen’s less torn up about it because while he trusts V more than the rest of the RFA, he hadn’t completely opened up to him, so he saves himself from some amount of emotional hurt.) The RFA may mean well, but they ultimately grossly misunderstand Zen, try to force what they think he should do on him, and treat him either like he’s an object on a pedestal or just too dumb to fully grasp or contribute meaningfully to a situation.

Basically, people don’t give Zen enough credit, and they brush him off as a background character with a shallow personality. There’s so many obvious things Cheritz has given us to showcase more of Zen’s character and personality, but the fans either make fun of him for it or call him annoying because of it. He’s super intuitive and guarded and I can definitely understand why he never completely bonded with the RFA. I love them, but quite frankly, they consistently fail to treat Zen like a person and don’t care about what he ultimately wants, but rather what they want from him. He protects himself from getting hurt by never getting completely emotionally invested in these people and reminding himself that they’ll probably all let him down someday. Which they do. No one actually sees Hyun Ryu, instead of ZEN, save for V and the MC.

This is really good analysis and oh my goodness way more than I could ever do. I never really thought about it this way.

While I mostly agree, I think some points should be open to discussion.

I personally feel like the RFA members treated him like a real friend, family, but the connection wasn’t there because of Zen. They were open to him, but he wasn’t open to them. That contributed to all the misunderstandings they had, so in that sense I don’t feel like I could ever blame them for how they treated him at times.

I also don’t recall Jumin ever threatening MC or saying those things to her, but maybe that’s just my bad memory. There’s many more I can say about that, but I think those who know his character better can explain it more substantially than me. I wouldn’t want to spout inaccurate information about him.

As for the fact that we don’t give Zen enough credit, I must agree. Although, since the April Fools DLC, more and more people have grown fond of him. I’ve been receiving messages from people saying how they’ve grown to appreciate Zen more after they realised this and that from my theories. So it’s definitely getting better, I’d say. I think overall, it’s really up to people’s types. Even before I had realised all this, I already liked Zen because I liked how romantic and caring he was. Others like Yoosung because of how cute and innocent he is. It’s the same for the other characters. And people see Zen as annoying because well, letms admit it he can be at times!

As I have said previously, all of the characters are complex. I chose to closely analyse Zen, and so have you, and that’s why we really love him. On the surface, he seems like just a romantic, narcissistic guy. I can’t blame anyone for not liking him. Same goes for the other characters. If I analysed their character more, I’d probably end up falling for them too, and that’s what others did, and that’s why they like who they like.

Thank you so much for submitting this. You wrote so much and you had a lot of valid points. Though this is as deep as I can go with my opinions because I’m currently rushing through a lot of work, I hope that you guys can also give your two cents on this. Reblog/Reply! Let’s start a discussion :D

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stolen-writer · 7 years

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The Tiger Tamer ~Chapter 9~

Notes: Hello everyone! Finally I could make the next official chapter of this! I'm so glad I could continue it! I was planning to make this the last chapter, but I figured there are still many things that you guys would like to know, like Kagami's past, for example and I didn't come up with the right scenes to show it. . So, I hope you like this chapter and help me out to know if I should continue a bit further or if I should just solve those things left undone. Thank you very much for the wait! I hope it was worth it! Please, enjoy! ~

9. The End and The Beginning A grace on the lips, he had been kissed by the angel. His eyes opened wide and he moved away from the boy. It had lasted enough, he thought. The boy remained looking at his tiger, for some reason he didn’t seem mad at all. In fact, the tiger could notice a slight smile had formed, faint, but present.

“Ah…” he wasn’t sure of what to say, but he leaned and hugged him, tight, very tight. The boy responded with a gentle touch, as he always would, patting the head of the boy.

“There is no need to say sorry, Kagami-kun… I don’t mind it. Maybe it’s time to take some steps to the discovery of what we are to really be.” Kuroko said. He knew the feelings they both were starting to develop would later turn bigger and stronger, he had to make sure to keep this clear for the tiger. So, he would speak to him about it, after everything was done. “For now, we have to lead the circus.”

Kagami nodded rapidly and moved away. Even if he had suffered quite a bit there, he considered it a home. He had forgotten his real home, he could only remember the bars, so he would protect that space with his tamer. There was no need to destroy it… He, too, was sure the place could be better if the blue eyed was there to lead it.

Akashi couldn’t help but chuckle. He had really lost to the tiger… to Kagami Taiga. It was fine. He had lost his chance, and now Kuroko was beginning to smile.

He was to lead them both to the circus. Not only the surface of it, but the real interior. For he was ready to leave it. In the end, he couldn’t lead it how Nijimura had wanted. He’d surely be disappointed if he saw how it had turned… that’s what the small red haired thought. He had planned to visit him after officially leaving the circus. And, that’s exactly what he would do. That man would surely give him a new purpose to continue on… He wanted to try and stumble like any other person… But, he wanted to be protected by someone once he did, for he would break if he did it alone.

As he proceeded to lead them, the circus getting closer by the minute. He tried talking to Kuroko.

“Tetsuya… There’s something I want you to know… though I think you’ve already noticed. It’s about Taiga and the stage… the lights. I’m not sure what it is, but he seems to feel threatened by them. I don’t really know why he feels that way… but I’m sure it has to do with his past.” Akashi expressed, he was not careful to hide from the tiger, since it would be a great thing if the tiger could share it already. He glanced at him, but noticed that, even if his eyes emanated a strange red, he refused to say a word.

“Ah… I think I get what you’re trying to tell me, Akashi-kun… I suppose it is related to his past, like you said… It’s a vital part of his life, though it is one where he suffered. I was pretty sure it was related to the circus… but if you don’t know about it… then it seems I was wrong.” Kuroko replied, trying to walk a bit further to be able to watch Akashi as they spoke.

“I confess that we did abuse of him while at the amusement park… but nothing related to vivid colors or whatever he claims… That’s the only thing I could get about the whole thing. Fire, probably.” The tiger flinched and ran closer to his tamer, his hands trembling slightly. Kuroko noticed and patted the dark haired.

“It is alright, Kagami-kun. The past is gone, right? Aside from that, we will not push you to relive it unless you’re ready.” Kuroko first had to make sure he was alright before continuing to speak. “Now, Akashi-kun, I’ll try my best to deal with whatever happened to Kagami-kun… If he doesn’t like the stage then, I won’t push him to be there either.” Kagami sighed, relieved by every single word the boy released. He would be fine… he would be ready if he lived with that angelical figure. He knew he could share his fears and solve them. Surely, the threat was still around… but he needed the right time to say it.

“Right… I suppose you’ll be able to find the answer… You are his tamer, after all. Well then… we’re here… and it is time for me to say farewell to everyone. “ he wasn’t sure he should say it, after being so oppressive… but he would try. Kuroko wouldn’t let him leave without properly saying his words of sorry to the others. The boy nodded at his words and stood at the entrance alongside the tiger, who seemed peaceful, but thoughtful.

Akashi walked timidly towards the back of the amusement park. Looking at it, feeling it was the last time he would be there… it was a very heavy feeling. He guessed he had grown attached to him, even if he had been how he had… he loved the place and the people in it. He let out a sigh, it was time to speak. He moved the curtains away and, once he did, a green haired man alongside a brown haired woman, ran towards him as if in a hurry.

“”Akashi-san!”” they both said. For some reason, it seemed out of character to the small one, but he forgot about it once they continued speaking.

“Where were you, sir? We were worried sick for you!” the woman said, her big brown eyes shining with worry as she started to brush his clothes, as if he had been dirtied.

“We have so many things we need to discuss with you, in fact… so, if you could please follow us. Some people are even offering themselves to enter the circus, strangely. We thought you had recruited them, in fact, but your face of confusion seems to say otherwise.” The green haired finished. They both wondered where he was, but, first things first, they had to get the things ready.

“Wha… wait… I came here to… to say my goodbyes.”

“”What…?”” they both looked towards each other and now, even Midorima seemed devastated by those words.

“Why would you leave us, Akashi-san?” Riko asked, looking worried. Had they done something wrong? Midorima tried to see the reasons, but he hadn’t found anything out of place with their actions or the amusement park.

“I… I haven’t been the best leader… with you guys or the animals… I figured you’d be happy to hear the news. I thought maybe Kuroko Tetsuya could lead the amusement park for me.” He said, pausing with some words, as he was still confused by their reactions. Riko shook her head and Midorima closed his eyes.

“But,… Akashi-san… We know you’ve done your mistakes, but we have let them go on… This is not entirely your fault. ‘IN FACT’, we were planning on telling you about those today, alongside the other things we need to tell you… We can fix them together. You don’t need to leave, Akashi-san. You helped this amusement park be what it is today. You make many people smile and we work hard every day to see those smiles and enjoy them.” She teased the ‘calm’ Midorima, adding the words that he surely wanted to say and then smiled widely. Sure, there were moments when they wanted their leader to stop being how he was, but they knew that, deep down, he himself wanted to change. They had finally figured that they should give him a hand at it, and they would go do it today.

Akashi sighed and glanced at them both. Midorima finally opened his eyes, adjusting his glasses to hide the slight embarrassment. A chuckle escaped the red haired, and grateful eyes gazed back at the two. He nodded rapidly and lowered his head. He wanted to stay… He really wanted to. Maybe this was a sign that he should stay. Ah… another chuckle escaped, Kuroko knew for sure this were their true feelings. At that moment, he had felt so happy he could cry. The words of trust from Nijimura resonated inside of him. He, too, knew that, even if he lost his way, he would find it someday… and that his comrades would help him out if he opened up to them… or even if he didn’t, because, in the end, that’s how friends are.

“I get it… Alright… I’ll take it back. Let’s get to work, Aida, Shintarou.” He replied, eyes determined and a straight posture,… and a gentle smile. Riko and Midorima couldn’t help but smile as well. It had gone better than expected… and they trusted it would continue that way if they gave him a hand. So, they both nodded and rushed towards the others. There was so much work to do, and a bright future to look after.

Eavesdropping, Kagami looked excitedly at the figures that rushed further in. He turned and nodded to Kuroko with a ton of energy.

“He did it, huh?” Kuroko said, now approaching the tiger and leaning for a hug. The taller one responded with a tight one, he wouldn’t let go for a while. It was always great to have that stillness close. He hoped to always have it. “He’ll be able to fix it, I’m sure. But, if he ever needs a hand, we can give it to him, right, Kagami-kun?”

“Y…Yes, we give hand to him…we save him. Angel saves him, I protect angel.” He corrected, in the end. Kuroko let out a soft giggle. He had been called an angel. Maybe that wasn’t the best description for him, he thought, but he would go along with it. He let go of the tiger and then, cupped his face and leaned in for a soft kiss.

This time, they were both aware, and the both enjoyed the moment. Soft, slightly timid, but so calm and beautiful for the both. It was as if they were in heaven, for the tiger, and as if they were close to what seemed to be an ocean, for the tamer. A perfect little kiss that would be the start of their love and the end of their ambiguity.

Notes: And that’s it for now! Please, let me know what you’d like to see, if I should keep it up or just solve things. Thanks for reading! Have a great day! As always, your appreciation is appreciated!

#kagakuro #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basuke #fanfic #stolen-writer #the tiger tamer fanfic #kagami taiga #kuroko tetsuya #aida riko #midorima shintarou #akashi seijuro

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