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luckywolfsbane · 7 months

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Whumptober day 7 Alternate: Body Modification.

The first morning after escaping the Palace of Avalon, Jack has spent the night watching the secluded swamp where their safehouse rests. Joined by Thalia at the break of dawn, Jack suddenly decides to do something for himself. He'll just need a little help to get it done. Day 7: Alternate: Body Modification POV: Jack Word count: 2,293 TW/CW: References to torture; references to imprisonment; references to physical, mental, and emotional abuse; psychological whump; mention of physical state of a character's body weight/condition/health; aftermath of a traumatic event; piercings; needles; snakes; swearing

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Watching the coles of last night’s fire glowing their last, Jack found himself rubbing at the bands of scar tissue around his wrist. Under the last bit of moonlight before dawn, resting outside an old cabin in unfamiliar woods a world away from his worst nightmares, reality settled in to roost.

Jack survived. When faced with death a thousand times, he’d held his ground and called their bluff. They hadn’t exactly spared him, rather they’d simply failed to kill him. There was victory in that.

He listened to the birds waking the world with their song. Fog drifted tall between the trees as first light broke over the horizon. Jack watched through the shallow hills and trees around the swamp. Frogs croaked, dodging into the water as a fox padded through in search of an early morning meal–apparently it hadn’t had much luck in the night. A clever hare poked its head from a particularly thorny bush once the fox was clear, lying it wait for it to disappear.

All of this would have occurred whether Jack had lived or died in what had once been the Palace of Avalon. Nature didn’t care about the tide of mortal lives. Even then, they lived because of nature, not in spite of it. How lucky was he, now, to be in such a remote area of the world?

The cabin door opened behind him and shut softly. Careful, yet heavy footsteps padded across the weather worn porch. He didn’t even need to look up.

“Morning, Thalia,” Jack whispered in the hush of the dawn.

She hummed and settled beside him. Her warm mahogany complexion shone like a dark star under the early light. Her micro braids fell over her opposite shoulder, leaving her sleepy expression in full view.

“Morning yourself, Pretty Boy,” she yawned, “Did you even sleep?”

“Did you?”

“Touché. I’ll drop it if you do.”

“Deal.”

Thalia plucked a leaf off a nearby plant and rolled it between her palms idly. She pursed her lips and looked off into the swamp.

“Lyr cried herself to sleep,” she muttered, “I tried to comfort her, but… Well, after seeing what you’d been dealing with, she blamed herself for not protecting you.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jack grouched, “I handed myself over to protect her. If anything, I should be apologizing for the extra stress she’s dealt with these past few months.”

Thalia eyed him for a beat. “I thought it was over protecting the guardians.”

Jack cracked a smile. So that lie hadn’t been second guessed? The immortals really could be dense.

“It did look like that,” he admitted, “But it wasn’t. You and Alex, you would have been fine. Honestly, you probably would have saved the remaining six guardians without my help. I knew that, protecting you or anyone else would have been a fool’s move. Especially considering Alex is always good for about one fight and you… Well, Thal, you can kick my ass without breaking a sweat.”

She hummed. “So that’s the excuse? You decided to handle things before we could wipe the floor with them? How noble, Princey.”

Jack elbowed her. It lacked any real impact, but the motion was enough. “You know what I mean. Especially at the moment, you’re physically stronger than me. By a lot… Anyway, Lyris had just been struck by lightning. She was still unconscious. If they’d had time to realize she was alive, they would have killed her right then and there.”

“So you fell on your sword?”

“Nah, that would have hurt less.”

“Comparatively?” Thalia looked him up and down before grimacing. “I agree. You should have just fought back. Look at you now. Jack, you’re skin and bone, and most of that skin is scar tissue. This is ridiculous. You should have stalled. We were coming, we would have helped.”

Jack raised his brow quizzically. “Stalled how, exactly?

“I don’t know. Maybe you should have done a card trick?”

He laughed at that. Imagining standing in front of Artisan, asking him to “pick a card” with a straight face, had him nearly rolling. What an idea, to give the card mage more ammunition.

As soon as he caught his breath he found her smirking at him.

“On the brightside, your laugh hasn’t changed.” Thalia paused and tossed her half mangled leaf at the ground. “I hope you know I missed you.”

Jack bit his lip. “I missed you, too. I missed everyone. Fuck, I even missed the immortal guardians after a while.”

“It takes months of imprisonment and torture to make you miss them?”

He considered that. “The experiences were surprisingly comparable, in fairness. Maybe it was nostalgia.”

Thalia stopped, recoiling in shock as if he’d tried to smack her. “Excuse me?”

Jack lifted his gaze to meet her terror-stricken expression. Slowly, he understood why she looked so scared. He supposed he’d neglected to talk about that little detail.

“Oh, right.” He cleared his throat and twisted the hem on his shirt. “You guys knew I spent time with them. Didn't I tell you?”

“You said something about knowing them previously, but nothing else.” Thalia snapped. She quickly recovered and apologized. “I don’t mean to yell, Jack. Really, I don’t. What happened?”

Jack wondered for a beat if he should really tell her. The concern and anger in her eyes made it clear: the damage was already done. If he wasn’t honest, she’d fill in the gaps with assumptions much worse than the truth.

“Lyris mentioned a few times that I went missing for a couple years, right?”

Thalia nodded. She turned to face him fully, watching him closely as he spoke.

Jack tried not to let it unnerve him. “Well, I was… for lack of a better word, I was kidnapped by the guardians when I turned 15.” He looked away, watching a turtle climb its way onto a log. “They uh… They kind of made it seem like no one wanted me, and my family and friends had sent a request for them to take me and keep me away from them. It was crazy. They even faked a few letters for it. I bought it hook, line, and sinker; so I’m not exactly innocent in it all. I definitely should have asked more questions, or even tried to go home or get a letter out. I was so stupid.” Jack laughed dismissively.

Thalia’s concern had melted into stunned horror. Her silence spoke volumes.

“It wasn’t malicious,” Jack continued, trying to recover the guardians’ image for them. “They needed to make sure my magic was up to par. Alex had just failed to defeat Keres. Of course, they didn’t tell me that; but that’s why they took me. It was purely to train my abilities as the Shadow Prince. They were worried, that’s all. The last–I don’t know–20 or so Shadow Princes have died horribly before they could fully awaken. They were just looking out for me.”

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Jack… You were a kid.”

He laughed again. “And?”

“And?! You were a fucking child! Did they hurt you?”

Jack shrugged. “I mean, they were literally training me.”

“So that’s a yes.” She rubbed her eyes. “Was Everos there?”

“Yeah.” Jack chewed his lip. “Actually, Everos and Robin were basically my best friends at the time. They didn’t let the others treat me roughly when they were around. Robin snuck food to me when I didn’t do well in training. I had the chance to reach out to my family with letters through Everos. I didn’t, cause I felt abandoned and all that teenage angst shit…”

“Note to self, Robin and Everos are the only two guardians with redeeming qualities.” Thalia looked ready to cry or yell. Jack couldn’t tell which. “That’s it! I’m glad Katya is dead, cause I know that they did all of that on her orders. They admitted that they never did anything without her say-so. They isolated and abused you for some magical fucking destiny that you were too young to handle.”

Unable to actually process her words, Jack sat still for a moment with an open mouth. “Oh.”

“Can I hug you? You need a fucking hug, Jack. The last three years of your life have been a nightmare.”

Numbly, Jack nodded. Thalia pulled him into her lap, hugging him tight enough to pop his aching joints. He’d deny it later, but he melted into her arms, nestling his face against her neck. She smelled like vanilla and blue lotus. He wouldn’t have recognized the scent if she hadn’t threatened to spray him with her perfume a few times.

She rubbed circles in his back, scratching his scalp through his hair. Biting back tears, he allowed himself to silently enjoy the contact.

A stick snapped. He jolted and tore away, searching the trees. A yulen picked through the underbrush, its four antlers twisting in a pair of spirals into the air. He didn’t know what he thought it would be, but he hadn’t expected a non-threatening animal.

Gathering his bearings, he realized why he’d been so easily startled. How much could one person take before they snapped, really? He needed a way to break the stress. Some way to signify what everything he’d been through was done and anything that happened from there on was a new experience.

An idea struck him. When he’d turned 13, he’d gotten his ears pierced in accordance with typical tradition. He carried one achievement piercing from when he’d been 14, his left orbital.

“Can you help me pierce my ear?” Jack blurted.

Thalia furrowed her brow. “Do you even know what you want? Isn’t this sudden?”

“I survived,” Jack continued, “Nothing about that is sudden.”

She was silent for a moment. “What were you thinking, then? I think Lyris has a hollow point needle in her first aid kit. Depending on what you want, I can lend you a stud until it heals.”

Jack chewed his lip. “A double piercing of some kind. For both the kidnapping and the palace.”

Thalia glanced back toward the cabin door, then refocused on Jack. “Let me see your ear. I need to check something.”

Holding still while she took his ear in her fingers and tugged gently at the cartilage, he couldn’t stop biting his lip. It was that or twist his hands, and he was too afraid to move.

“You’ve got the right anatomy for an industrial, like the one Jason has,” she went on, “I can either put it on the same side as his, or opposite your orbital. However, unless he has a spare bar you can borrow, I’ll need to put in two studs–and you’ll have to keep an eye on them.”

“He has a spare,” Jack said, surprised he remembered, “It’s… It’s purple. He got it cause it’s my favorite color. We–uh–we were talking in secret, when he got his mind back and figured out how to fool his handler.”

Thalia’s eyes grew wide. “You’re explaining the whole mind thing later.”

“Is it mandatory?” Jack whined.

“Do you want me to ask the big guy?”

“No! I’ll try to explain. After my ear is done.”

Thalia stood, leaving him on the steps. “I’ll go grab the needle and ask Jason for that bar. Sit tight.”

Jack worried his lip, nodding as she slipped back into the cabin. He touched his right ear, staring at the ground for a while. A snake slithered across what had once been a cobblestone path. Jack winced and pulled his feet up on the steps, watching it move until it disappeared into the swamp. After that, he couldn’t stop looking for snakes around him until the door opened again.

Thalia stepped back out, whispering something to one of the others before shutting the door between them. She sighed deeply and sat down beside Jack.

“Which side?” she asked, running one of Lyris’s alcohol wipes over a long, hollow point needle.

Jack swallowed nervously. “Is that one of her suture needles? I hate that thing. It’s massive.”

Thalia pinched down her smile. “Do you want the bar or not?”

He huffed, shifting awkwardly. “I want the bar.”

He watched silently as she laid a hand on the porch. As she moved it back, a plant sprouted, bloomed, and bore fruit before his eyes. She plucked the fruit and snapped the plant off at the base before tossing it into the yard.

“Which side?” she asked again.

“Right,” Jack finally replied. He closed his eyes, letting her crouch beside him.

Something slimy coated his right ear. He yelped in protest at the chill, until his ear took to buzzing with pins and needles. Realizing the fruit she’d summoned must have been a numbing agent, he settled some of his nerves.

She waited for the fruit to fully numb his ear before getting to work. Jack barely felt it. The first part was nothing more than sharp pressure. The second left him swearing despite the numbing agent, but it wasn’t much compared to pain he’d recently endured. Then she pushed the bar through after the needle, removing the first jab as she slipped one end of the jewelry in place. As soon as the second side was in, she fastened everything and washed his ear with a small bottle of saline from the first aid kit.

Jack unclenched his jaw and let out a sigh of relief. It was final now. That chapter was truly behind him.

Thalia braced his shoulder, smiling gently. “Get talkin’, Pretty Boy. What’s this about Jason’s mind?”

“Dammit.” Jack glanced sidelong at her, giving her a tired look. “I don’t even get to see what it looks like first?”

“No,” she retorted, “that wasn’t the deal. Explain.”

#the islandian chronicles #t.i.c whumptober 2023 #jack raider #thalia vandalyn

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multifandomfanficss · 3 years

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Perfect

Doctor x Reader (Platonic!Jack x Reader)

Prompt: When on an adventure with the Doctor and Jack the reader is attacked by an alien called a Psyfon, a race with psychic abilities who feed off of emotions. The reader gets stuck in their perfect dream realm and the Doctor has to save them before they die in there.

Warnings: Dead family members.

A/N: Pretty much any Doctor can be used, but I mostly thought of 10 and 11 while writing it. The aliens were inspired by the Djinn from Supernatural. I was also inspired by Doctor Who: The Infinite Quest a little bit so if you’re a fan of the main series you should totally check that out. Also please let me know if I made an error in pronouns. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so everyone could relate.

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and had run into Jack not long after you met him. When you first met Jack, an old friend of the Doctor’s, you didn’t believe him when he said he had known the Doctor for over a century. Judging by his earthly appearance and his age there was no way this could be true, but after watching him die you quickly learned of his immortality.

You met the Doctor when he saved you from the Cybermen. Sadly he couldn’t save your family from such a terrible fate, but he got you out just in time. Ever since then they had been your biggest fear. Jack and the Doctor had lived for so long they both knew what it was like to lose the people they cared for most...nobody knew better than the Doctor. They helped you get through the pain that came after such a big loss. The Doctor would often hear crying coming from your room during your early nights on the TARDIS when he sat up late in the console room and he would be at your side in seconds to comfort you. He was always there for you no matter what. You wouldn’t have gotten to this point without him. By now the nightmares had gone away, mostly, and the scars had stopped bleeding, but they were still there. They would always be there. This history was a part of you forever, your history, and you were just lucky enough to have the Doctor in it. If you’re being completely honest with yourself you had grown a little bit of a crush on the Doctor. I mean who wouldn’t? He’s the Doctor. You loved him, but you would never tell him. You were happy living with his ignorance. Life was better in the bliss of your friendship.

It had been just a normal adventure with your two best friends, Jack and the Doctor, but then again nothing was ever really normal with them. You were separated from your boys as your ran down a long dark corridor. Your shoes slapped against the cold, hard pavement as you rounded the corner. When you looked behind you there seemed to be nothing chasing you anymore. You stopped to catch your breath.

The three of you had been investigating a series of psychic attacks that were leaving people brain dead and full of a strange blue goo. You weren’t sure what kind of alien could do such a thing, but you knew you had to find out.

“(Y/N)?!” I hear Jack yell in a hushed tone. His voice echos throughout the empty building. You turn to look for him when you start to hear ringing in your ears and a giant pounding in your head. You feel your eyes close as your body hits the ground.

THIRD PERSON POV

Jack stood next to (Y/N)’s body with his gun aimed at the monster while the Doctor crouched down to check their pulse.

“You better hope they’re still alive!” Jack said as he shoved his big gun in the monster’s face. Usually the Doctor would object to pointing guns at people, but he was so worried about (Y/N) he didn’t have time to care about Jack’s manners.

“What did you do to them?!” The Doctor asks standing up to look at the alien. They were from a species called Psyfons, a group of aliens who feed off the emotions of other people.

“Don’t worry, they’re only sleeping,” the alien slurred.

“For now,” they added. Jack hit the alien with the butt of his gun and knocked them out. The Doctor gave him a disapproving look.

“You should be happy. Knocking them out was the least I could do” Jack joked. The Doctor rolled his eyes and dropped down to (Y/N)‘s body again. Jack joined him this time. They were sweating. He placed his hand over their forehead.

“They’re burning up” Jack stated the obvious.

“Yes, I know I-I I have to do-do this thing-“ The Doctor starts stuttering.

“Then do it!” Jack cuts him.

“But I can’t! I swore I’d never do it again! Not since-“ He started to get a little choked up.

“Since what?!” Jack questioned.

“Not since Donna” The Doctor finished sadly. Jack put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder.

“It’s the only way to save them” Jack told him.

“It was the only way to save her too” The Doctor says sadly.

“Maybe it’ll be different this time” Jack suggests.

“We don’t know that” The Doctor says coldly as he puts his hands to (Y/N)’s head and enter’s their mind.

(Y/N)’S POV

You wake up laying in the grass in front of your old house. You hear the sound of birds and the sun is just a little too bright for comfort, but it’s home. You take a deep breath of the fresh air. You smile, but you’re confused. You look over to see the Doctor standing in the TARDIS door. Jack is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“Oh, popped off to see his friends at Torchwood, I suppose” The Doctor tells you. You nod as you look back to your house.

“And we’re home because...” You wonder.

“The Psyfon knocked you out. I figured this would be a nice, safe place to rest for a while” He reminds you.

“And I couldn’t just rest in the TARDIS?” You ask.

“I thought this would be a nice surprise” He says.

“What year is it?” You ask. You doubt he would be able to bring you to a time period where your family is alive, but it never hurts to ask.

“2021” He answers.

“So they’re not here” you say sadly.

“Who’s not here?” He asks.

“My family” You say becoming more sad, but more confused by the second. How could he just forget like that? You know he’s lived for a long time, but surely he wouldn’t forget something this important to you. Would he? He gives you a confused look.

“Doctor, my family is d-“ You’re cut off by the sound of a door opening.

“You didn’t tell us you were coming!” You hear a voice say. You stop dead in your tracks and you go white. It can’t be.

“Mom?” You say as you turn around to see her. You run to her and engulf her in a giant hug.

“Woah, what’s that for?” Your mother asks delighted, as you practically knock her down.

“I just missed you. That’s all” You say as you try to hold back your tears.

“Where is everybody?” You ask, as it suddenly dawns on you that your family is alive.

“Your father went to go pick up your brother and sister from school” She informs you. The Doctor comes up behind you and takes your hand. He squeezes it, giving you a big smile. He is an impossible man, but you never knew he could do something like this for you.

“Why don’t you two come in? It’s almost time for tea” Your mother invites you in. You gladly accept, of course. You watch your mother go into the kitchen as you pull the Doctor aside into the living room and hug him tightly.

“Thank you” You tell him. That’s when you start to let go of a few tears.

“I figured it was time to go home” He says happily. The hug lingers a little longer than usual. He just holds you. Then he places a quick kiss to your cheek, just missing your lips. Your face goes red. This is completely out of character for your relationship with the Doctor. Sure you had always wanted to be something more, but he didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want your relationship with him to change. You figure it’s best to just dance around the subject. You pull away and clear your throat.

“So, um...how did you do it?” You ask.

“Do what?” He asks looking lovingly into your eyes.

“Bring my family back?” You ask with a slight chuckle.

“I didn’t” He says simply. That’s when your head begins to ring again.

“Let me in, (Y/N). That’s it.” You hear the Doctor’s voice, but his lips aren’t moving. Suddenly there is a light and the Doctor shifts uncomfortably. He cracks his neck and stretches out his arms.

“Good thing there was a body here for me to jump into or else that could have been disastrous” He comments. You give him a confused look.

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry (Y/N), but none of this is real” He says plainly.

“What?” You ask. This all certainly looks and feels real. The sound of a kettle whistle comes from the kitchen. The Doctor sniffs the air.

“Is that tea?” He asks.

“Tea’s ready!” Your mom calls from the kitchen.

“Doctor, you need to tell me what’s going on right now” You demand. He looks into the kitchen and makes a face.

“The Psyfon. It put you in a dream state so it could feed off your energy and emotions. You’re dying in the real world. Turning to goo” He held out the last word as he made a face of disgust and interest. He gave you a sad look as he started to put the pieces together, of where you were and who you were with. You started to feel your legs give out from underneath you. The Doctor guided you to a chair.

“I want to stay” You say numbly.

“(Y/N), none of this is real” He starts.

“I don’t care. I want to stay” You repeat.

“You’ll die in here” He begins.

“Time works differently in dreams. I could easily spend my whole life here-“ You try to rationalize it.

“You’ll never see me again” The Doctor tries.

“There’s a version of you here-“ You try, but are cut off again. He crouches down to your level and takes hold of your hands.

“(Y/N), none of this is real. It will never be real. Your pain balances out your beauty. There wouldn’t be one without the other and that’s what makes you human and you are SO human. This is all in your head. You will be alone in here forever. Please just come home with me. There are people there who will miss you. Come back with me, back to the TARDIS, please!” He results to begging as a last ditch effort.

“How can I go back when everything is so perfect here? I’m perfect here. I’m not a mess. I can just be me” You start to cry.

“You’re always perfect to me and that little bit of mess makes you human. It doesn’t lessen your beauty or your creativity or your kindness. It just adds to who you are as a person” He says, wiping away a tear.

“Please. Come home with me” He begs. You nod in response as he gives your hands a squeeze. He gives you a sad smile. You stand together and you hear the doorbell ring.

“That must be your father. He forgot his keys again” Your mother laughs as she walks to the door. The door opens and the Doctor pushes himself in front of your as three Cybermen crash through the door.

“DELETE” One yells, as it kills your mother.

“NO” You scream, as the Doctor tries to keep you from running towards her.

“She isn’t real! Come on!” He yells over the sound of pounding Cybermen feet as he pulls you out the back way to the garden.

“Where’s the TARDIS?” He asks.

“It’s on the other side of the house!” You say as you pull him around the building. You lay your eyes on the beautiful blue box as the Doctor shoves his key inside.

“YOU WILL BE UPGRADED” The Cybermen shout. Once unlocked, you push your way through the doors to find a hollow Police Box.

“Why is this happening?!” You cry. The Doctor places his hands on your shoulders.

“The dream is turning into a nightmare to try to keep you here. (Y/N), come on. You have to think. What’s keeping you here?” He asks.

“My family is dead!” You cry.

“Yes, something else” He tries to think. You look at his thinking face. His beautiful thinking face and it strikes you.

“I’m in love with you” You blurt out.

“What?!” He looks back at you with a confused look.

“The version of you here. I think he felt the same way” You give him an embarrassed look. He lets go of a big breath.

“Well...” He starts as he tilts his head.

“I suppose if admitting the way I feel gets us out of here then the real me doesn’t feel very different” He finishes quickly.

“Wait, what?!” You respond. He gives you his classic Doctor smile before the Cybermen fade. Everything fades. The world goes black.

You wake up crying with a pounding headache in your bed in the TARDIS. The Doctor rushes in just like old times.

“It’s okay. I’m here” The Doctor tells you as he sits on your bed and wraps his arms around you.

“I just had the most insane dream” You start to tell him.

“Well...” His voice fades.

“Doctor, was that real?” You ask him. He pulls back to look at you.

“In a sense, yes” He goes on to explain the effects the Psyfon had on you and how he went into your mind to save you. He explains how you were unconscious when you came out of the dream state and that he brought you back to your room on the TARDIS to rest.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“He’s bringing the Psyfon to the Shadow Proclamation for me where they will be tried for their psychological attacks. They won’t hurt anyone anymore” He promises. After you’ve calmed down somewhat he gets up to leave the room.

“You should get some rest” He says opening the door.

“Wait! Doctor, do you think maybe you could stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” You ask.

“Of course” He responds as he awkwardly climbs into your bed and wraps his arms around you. You almost forget about your confessions until he kisses you on the cheek.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)” He says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Doctor” You say as you drift off to sleep to the sound of his dual heartbeats.

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zodiyack · 4 years

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Requested by anon: Will you do a story/ one-shot about either Elijah or Klaus’ wife, and they’ve been trying to find her for while because of betrayal or something and they finally find her?

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst?, fluff, swearing

Words: 1,015

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

MYSTIC FALLS, SOME TIME AGO

“Are we sure we should be doing this?” Caroline whispered. She’d seen what Klaus did when he was mad. Not that she was afraid of him, it was Y/n she was afraid of. She actually liked Niklaus’ wife, but doing this would be stabbing her in the back, and stabbing her in the back would mean she’d have to face her wrath if she were to ever wake up.

“Klaus can’t, and won’t, do jack shit. He’s all bark and no bite...pun not intended.” Damon snickered.

“I’ve gotta agree with Damon on this one.” Caroline glared at Elena. It really seemed like Stefan, Matt, and her were the only ones who genuinely liked Y/n. But why? What’s not to like about her...aside from being the wife of their worst enemy. “She’s married to him. She must be used to this, right?”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“No! Not you too!” Caroline exclaimed, widening her eyes at Stefan with shock.

“I’m sorry. I like her, but I agree, if this makes Klaus powerless and weak, it has to be done.”

“How would it make him weak?”

Stefan sighed, “His wife. She goes missing and is our bait, he can’t hurt us or else he’ll never know where she is.”

“You do realize you’re going to make it worse by having two grudges to face?”

“How so?”

Caroline rolled her eyes at Damon’s doubt but indulged him in her explanation. “We’re betraying Klaus. That’s one stab in one back. And we’re making his wife temporarily die and hiding her at that! That’s two stabs in one back, and another stab in a different back.”

“What’s with all your metaphors, blondie?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes again, and paced ahead of the group. Whispering to herself, as if Y/n could hear, she apologized and shrugged off her fear. “I’m sorry, Y/n. It’s the only thing we can do. I hope you understand.”

NEW ORLEANS, PRESENT DAY.

Klaus slammed his fist against the table. It had been years since the Mystic Falls betrayal. That’s what Rebekah called it anyways. Elena and her group of friends had taken the one thing Klaus loved, the one thing that loved Klaus. Damon and the others were always telling him he didn’t know what it was like to be loved, but his wife assured him that he didn’t need to prove anything.

Now, she was gone. He didn’t know whether they’d stabbed her with the white oak stake or if they daggered her or something, but she was gone, that was the one of the only things they could establish.

“We’ll find her, Niklaus. I give you my-”

“Word?” He flipped the table with a growl, “You give me your word that you’ll find my wife? She’s gone, Elijah! She’s been gone! Where was your word then?”

Elijah simple nodded. It infuriated Klaus even more that Elijah expressed nothing but a neutral expression. “Niklaus. Yes, Y/n has been gone for some time, and for that I am sorry, but you must understand, I couldn’t give you my word then be-”

“Because what?!”

“Because, brother, we didn’t know she was alive back then.”

Klaus froze in place. “What?” He felt the anger leave his body and relief take over. Over and over again, he asked himself if he’d heard Elijah correctly. Hope, once lost, returned.

“She’s alive. Caroline Forbes has confessed. She refuses to talk to you, as you’re a little on the murderous side,” Klaus scoffed yet held a smile, one of which Elijah returned, “but nevertheless, she knows Y/n’s health status, as she and Stefan are still in on at least that part. However, she’s been compelled to forget.”

“Damn it.” Klaus allowed himself to have hope, but he should’ve known something was wrong. Every time it was too good to be true, there was something off. “Do we have any information on her whereabouts? Like anyone who knows?”

“I’m not sure. She mentioned other people getting compelled as well, but even if that is true, we’re immortal, Niklaus.”

“Yes? Get to the point!”

“We have thousands upon thousands of years to live. We have an entire earth to pursue. I promise you, brother, I will not rest until Y/n is recovered, healthy, and by your side once again.” Elijah clenched his jaw after speaking.

He despised the betrayal just as much as Klaus, and not only because he is a man of his word. Y/n was his sister-in-law, whom he loved as a part of his family. Everyone knew; mess with one Mikaelson, get the rest. Any harm against a member of the family was a harm against all of the family.

“We’ve found her, brother.” Elijah smiled as he hugged his brother tightly. After many agonizing years, months, weeks, days, and minutes of searching, they’d finally found her.

“We need to leave then. Right now.”

“He’s already got that covered, Niklaus.” Klaus stilled, almost looking like an actual statue. A chuckle he swore he knew filled his ears and brought the tears he’d been hiding to his tear-ducts. “My guess is that he got the strategy for such from you. I mean- Forcing witches to free me? Did you two switch personalities while I was gone?”

Klaus let out a chuckle of his own, turning and surging forward. He held Y/n close to him, practically suffocating himself in her shoulder while inhaling her scent. “Is it true? Are you really here?”

“Yes, Nik. I’m here, my love, and it’s all thanks to Elijah.” She giggled as her hand cupped the back of his neck.

Klaus shivered as Y/n’s fingers brushed over the hairs on the nape of his neck, a feeling he hadn’t felt for far too long. A squeal escaped her when Niklaus connected their lips in a familiar longing dance.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up. But, don’t forget, Y/n, we all miss you and would love to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Elijah.” Y/n didn’t have much time to respond, Klaus already initiating hugs, kisses, and everything else he could think of. She was glad to be back.

#niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #joseph morgan #klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #joseph morgan x reader #tvd #to #the vampire diaries #the originals #tvd reader insert #tvd imagine #to imagine #to reader insert #reader insert #x reader #all readers #zodiyack

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ilkkawhat · 3 years

Note

"How long have you had this planned?" "Since the moment I fell in love with you."

(For MacDalton)

[two things: one, this is like the first time I've written them in over three months so I apologize if I'm a bit rusty and two: I just straight up invented a new music venue for the sake of plot. I hope you enjoy Nade!!!]

If there’s one thing Jack’s learned in all of his years of knowing Angus Macgyver, it’s that for certain anniversaries; be it birthdays, deathdays, randomly constituted holidays mostly created on Jack’s behalf such as Bruce Willis’ birthday or the day Die Hard premiered in theaters, it’s that Mac is very...picky when it comes to his sentiments.

He loves a good party, sure, but doesn’t necessarily enjoy birthdays—at least his own, because he still always puts forth effort for others’ to ensure they have a good time.

He believes in Santa Claus, with what he thinks is irrefutable scientific proof, but doesn't believe in the other innocent childish entities such as the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny, agreeing with Jack that the Tooth Fairy is nothing more than a unwanted home invader in the form of a lying parent and the Easter Bunny is just downright made to terrify children with mall photos.

Hell, he at times even downplays the importance of Cairo Day, willing to work instead of lazing around the deck with a six pack and bags of takeout delivered by Jack himself—and while there really was an emergency this time around that left both of them bruised and battered and shaken with the sight of a gutshot Bozer, it ended up being the perfectly bided time for something he’s had planned for, well...for a long while, now.

That, and he’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone, embarking on a road trip to find a long lost father that he already knew Jack would join him on before he even said a single word, and in turn take Jack on a trip he never quite expected to have. One without any hiccups, not even an improvisation. Perfectly planned and tailored to the man he both owes his life to, and wants to devote his life to.

He asks Jack to take a pit stop on their cross-country road trip—immediately dispelling Jack’s insistence of hitting up the casinos in Vegas with teasing argument that he’d lose all of their money for food and gas no matter how many times Jack explains that he knows the “system,” but once their banter fades back into the comfortable silence, he directs Jack past the state of Nevada and into the southerner’s own home state—the Lonestar state.

“Texas? You really think Daddy Mac might be hiding in a hole in Texas?”

Mac shrugs coyly and Jack grins.

“Don’t matter anyhow, been wantin’ to take you back down here anyway. Mama’s missed having a scrawny kid to cook for,” Jack teases with a wink.

“Well good, cause we gotta swing by your casa and pick somethin’ up real quick,” Mac puts on a faithful imitation of the Texan’s accent, and Jack beams.

“Going native, huh, hoss? What do we gotta pick up?”

“Your guitar.”

“My guitar?” Jack’s eyes narrow behind the large yellow lens of his aviators and gives up trying to ask why because Mac keeps his lips sealed.

They just keep driving instead, down a long country road with the appropriate tunes to accompany this feeling; Mac’s hair flowing in the wind, Jack casually driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on Mac’s knee, a wide grin on both of their faces as they watch the sun set and the beautiful unseen stars in the sky rise out to greet them.

And a robot in the backseat, but he’s smart enough to know when to stay quiet and just enjoy the moment.

They make it to Jack’s home, an intended short visit turns into almost an entire day and while Mac is never the one to make excuses to leave, he tries to come up with as many as he can to make it to their destination on time.

Fortunately, he also got Mama Dalton and Jack’s sister in on it too, which does make it just a little easier and Mac promises that they’ll come back on the way home after nearly having to drag Jack out of the beloved ranch home.

He won’t be so grumpy once he sees what I got planned, Mac has to remind himself, because his light layer of deception does hurt him as much as it hurts Jack.

Another reason he wasn’t a fan of the “surprise” element of having a birthday. There’s an almost malicious level of teasing to making sure the birthday boy or girl doesn’t suspect a thing.

But he knows Jack, and knows he has to be suspecting something, evident by his sudden bitterness in their usually laid back banter.

“You’re just getting tired of driving is all,” Mac tries to reason with him.

“Me? I ain’t tired. You’re the one who’s tired, want me to tuck you in the back?” Jack sneers.

“How am I supposed to give you directions then?”

“I got Spanky back there—”

“Sparky.”

“Whatever. And where is it that we’re going anyway, Mac?”

“Up there,” Mac smiles when he sees the building in the distance, the GPS on his phone indicating they’re only mere minutes away.

“Wuh—No. No!” Jack gapes and Mac burst out in glee. “What are we doing at the Armadillo II?”

The Armadillo II, being a freshly renovated bar and music hall was built as an homage to the Amradillo World Headquarters, which Jack often talked about having gone to as a young kid, wishing it had lasted longer before being turned into an office building—something he often compared to the transition of childhood to adulthood itself.

“Beer and music, what else would you do?”

“Yeah, but I mean, how does this relate to…”

“It doesn’t. It’s just for you. For us,” Mac grips Jack’s hand and gently kisses him on the cheek. “Making up for Cairo Day.”

“Aw, gee, Mac,” Jack’s eyes are glistening, his teeth shining under the bright moonlight in the brightest smile. “You shouldn’t have!”

They’re greeted by a bouncer who holds up a hand to Jack’s chest as he was ready to strut his way in.

“Tickets,” the bouncer grunts.

“Ah, damn, don’t have ‘em on me, but I know the owner—” Jack starts to ramble, ready to sneak their way in but surprisingly, Mac has two ticket stubs.

“Where’d you get those?”

“From my pocket,” Mac says simply and pushes Jack into the building.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the concert will begin in fifteen minutes, please fill you drinks and take your seats!”

“Concert, what concert?” Jack shouts as he takes in the room, taking the chair closest to the door at the table that Mac directs them to.

“See that banner?” Mac nods up to the stage.

Willie Nelson.

Jack knew of course, that Willie Nelson would occasionally come out for a concert or two, usually to fundraise for his acts of activism—and even if he couldn’t attend he’d always try to send some money for the cause, but never, and he really means never in his right mind did he ever think this would happen.

“I love you, Mac,” Jack breathes, and the concert begins.

A few songs in, Willie slows down to a gentle strum on his guitar, and the lights dim to match an intimate, romantic atmosphere.

“Now, this next song is called ‘A Song for You,’ although, it is my honor to make a slight alteration to the title for one of our country’s greatest unsung heroes. A guy with a name that sounds like it’d be on the menu at Carl’s Junior came up to me on the street the other day—”

The crowd laughs at the name joke, and so does Mac but Jack’s jaw is hung open, no sound coming out which makes Mac laugh even harder because he knows it’s all coming together.

“He told me his story, their story and well, now it’s my turn to tell y’all that story too. This here is a song for you, Jack Dalton.”

“No. Fucking. Way!” Jack breathlessly gasps, his fingers shaking, his eyes watery and red. Mac puts his hand on Jack’s knee, and Jack sandwiches it with his own. It’s not until the song is over that he’s able to speak again, wiping the tears from his eyes as the crowd applauds.

“When the hell didja manage to talk to Willie Nelson?”

“On my way back from Siberia. Made a pit stop.”

“And now, it’s my greatest pleasure to welcome onto the stage, the man himself—”

“Mac…” Jack starts slapping, clawing at Mac is if to bring him back to life because this sure as hell feels like he’s died and gone to heaven—though he knows, and Mac knows, that will never happen.

Jack Dalton will never die.

And even if he did, he’d never go into that light without Mac by his side, and because of that, because they’re alive, they both feel unstoppable, almost youthfully immortal in that sense—if they were going to die, they would have kicked the bucket by now, surely.

“Come on up here, Jack!” Willie calls and Jack just cannot believe it, especially not when that same bouncer comes up behind him holding his own guitar that he had stashed away in the back of his GTO.

“How long have you been planning this?” Jack asks wildly as he rises from his seat.

“Since the moment I fell in love with you,” Mac replies, and rises with him, sending him to the stage after a good luck kiss. “Which was basically when you played Willie Nelson every day in the Sandbox.”

#nade2308 #macdalton #macgyver fic #angus macgyver #jack dalton #mk.fic #i even went and rewatched some bits to make sure i got their voices right #i miss jack so much #mk.op #i also never thought i'd write mac fic again so this was a pleasant surprise for me too

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eyeless-cunt · 4 years

Note

Ej being w a sexual shy reader

prompt 9 (?)

I mashed all of these prompts together into one— I thot they would fit 😳 (however it’s a lil different uwu)

also i listened to ego death by Mieke while writing this it goes with it WELL, so you should listen to it >:)) ON LOOP

🔪————————————————————————🌸

Summary: Y/N is alone and not fine with it. Ej is alone but fine with it. They mix. Ej remembers that his love is not immortal like him.

Word count: 3.3k

NSFW: u h. yes. It’s pretty mild tho and very VERY soft

Warnings: mild depression, grief, loss of a loved one, EXTREME FLUFFY NSFW, mentions of eating humans, mentions of reader death, slight angst, very fluffy, ej loves reader very much

Tag List: @jouchann

🌸————————————————🔪

Y/n was always shy. She grew up quiet, she lacked presence. She never raised her hand—nor her voice. She was talked over and trampled on. She grew up with loving yet quickly fading grandparents. They tried to give her attention but the life was draining out of them and quite frankly they wanted to spend their last years in the arms of their loving spouse. She didn’t mind, she figured she would rather spend all of her remaining time with her significant other as well. Although she had always figured that something like that was nowhere close to her in the near future. Or further future to be honest. She was too shy and small in character to make a lasting impact on anyone, after all.

Falling in love with an immortal demon wasn’t something shy girls did. Outgoing girls did that, spontaneous and loud and adventurous. Those were the type of girls to experience this. Confident and sure of themselves. Shy girls met someone in a library, in a coffee shop, maybe on a park bench. Not in the woods at four a.m. sobbing about their grandparents death.

It was cold and dark and wet. Her face was wet from tears and wet from rain, her fingertips and lips were red and freezing, ready to burst. She couldn’t go back inside. Not yet, not now. It had been a week since their death, her grandpa dying of simply old age, her grandmother fading one hour after digesting the news and coming to terms with it. Her heart was simply too broken. Instantaneous heart failure. They left her everything. The car, the house, the money, the cat— their belongings. She didn’t want any of it right now. She had no other family, no close friends. She was simply not the type to make a lasting impact on someone.

She didn’t want to go back to that house. She didn’t want to see their things laying around, now her things. They were all she had, how was she supposed to go on, being alone? She hated being alone and lonely and alone. If anything, the woods behind her house was almost comforting. The feeling of being watched, which usually would give someone chills and paranoia—helped. She wasn’t alone, she would walk into that house and her grandparents would wave hello at her, they would be holding hands from their separate but close recliners, watching whatever new show they found interesting at the moment.

Obviously, that wouldn’t happen. But she still thought it, hoped. Which was why she couldn’t go back inside. It would make it too real, they wouldn’t be there, she would be truly alone. As long as she didn’t go inside to see for herself, they might be still sitting inside, waiting for her. So she couldn’t go inside, or they wouldn’t be there anymore.

It was colder then before, even though the rain had stopped. The grass was starting to freeze, the sun had gone down more than two hours ago. She sat still against a tree trunk, holding her knees to her chest. She was tired, it was cold out here. She didn’t know if her fingers were still red or if they had turned blue. She didn’t have enough energy to check. Animals scurried around her, as if they knew she wouldn’t do them any harm. They knew she was incapable, so they ignored her and roamed around freely.

Her eyes were closing and opening, closing and opening, over and over and over again. Her head swayed, but she fought to stay up. Would her grandparents still be there if she fell asleep? She didn’t know, so she fought to stay awake. Her body won over her mind however, and soon her body slumped over as she hit the ground, her arms still curled into herself.

🔪Eyeless’s P.O.V🔪

I felt kinda bad. I mean, this girl was just sitting in my woods crying while it was raining. Watching her felt like an invasion of privacy...but then again she was in my woods. It was only fair that I watch her to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. How did she even get in? It seems that tall prick needs to up his game.

I was patient. I had lived a very long time, I had an endless amount of time to do whatever I wanted. I knew that waiting for someone or something meant nothing. However I did worry about her time. How long had it been? I figured pretty long when she slumped over onto the icy grass, sound asleep. Humans felt temperature, didn’t they? She would get hypothermia if this continued. I had already eaten. I wasn’t hungry. Being feral every once in a while really made you full as hell for a few weeks. The thought of more food grossed me out considering I had eaten so much. She was safe, for now. If she ever came in my woods again however, I wouldn’t be too sure.

So in a moment of rare kindness for something like me, I dropped down from my tree and crouched to get a good look at her. Was she a run-away? She looked young but...I sifted through her pockets. An old tattered wallet. She had a driver’s license, not that much else. Then again I didn’t really look, just wanted to find an ID of some sort. She was an adult. So homeless? No. She didn’t look it. So just having a mental breakdown? probably. I picked her up, and felt the cold in her skin. It didn’t affect me but it certainly made me worried-ish for her.

I didn’t know where to take her. Where did she live, where did she come from? I couldn’t just take her with me, could I? No, definitely not. She would scream and argue and thrash as soon as she saw me. Well, I guess I could just say I was a cosplayer. Of some...random obscure villian or something. If she didn’t believe it and thrashed and screamed then I would just kill her. Easy. Take her home, warm her up, take her back to her home, done and easy. I hadn’t done something this kind for someone I considered my food in a very long time.

I adjusted her in my arms, trying not to press on her her or hold her too tight. Trying to hold back strength was not something I had done in an even longer time, and I was not used to it. I’m not sure how long it took to get there, but halfway I noticed the blue of her lips. I took off my sweatshirt and pulled it on over her head, not bothering to stick her arms through. She would retain more heat that way anyways. I’m not sure if i’m warm or cold, so it was a gamble to hold her closer to my chest. I did so anyways and started to jog, wanting to get there before she died.

When we got there I immediately turned on the heat. My house had many functions I didn’t use, although it seemed they finally had a use. I closed all the windows and doors, and grabbed a few blankets the previous (now long dead—like over 100 years dead) home owners had owned and kept in a spare closet. I laid her on the couch, although I wondered if my bed would work better for retaining heat. I figured there was no difference and kept her there, laying blankets on her. She would probably need a warm bath, but I figured she wouldn’t want me to stick her in there for fear of her wet clothes. I didn’t see an issue with undressing her but I vaguely recalled a moment when I walked in on Jane showering. I didn’t see an issue, she hit me with every bottle in there.

I wasn’t sure of what else I could do for her, so I ended up sitting in front of her on the couch. It was a few hours before she woke up, but I was patient. I have time. I wondered if I would have to kill her or not. I wouldn’t want to eat her, so it would be a waste.

🔪Third person P.O.V🌸

She had a short dream. Grey skin, navy blue, hot tar leaking out of holes in the wall, screaming. A lot of fire and singing. Then she didn’t dream at all. When she woke up, she was surprisingly comfortable. Her back hurt a little, and was a little cold, her hands were a bit numb, and she was sleeping on a soft yet bumpy surface. She liked being wrapped in these blankets, but she couldn’t seem to free her hands. They were trapped in something and she was far too weak to move them very much. He was surprisingly amused. She didn’t seem to know what was restricting her arms, and she didn’t seem all too panicked.

He thought her look of frustration was funny. They made eye contact. Kinda. They talked, although they don’t really remember what about. It took a long time, they weren’t sure how long, but eventually they entered a mutual relationship. Falling in love with immortal demons wasn’t something shy girls did.

Yet here she was. Her head in the lap of an immortal demon who she was in fact in love with. She never did end up going into that house, she tried. She tried and tried but the thought of her grandparents not being there when she walked in always stopped her. She always somehow found her way back to Jack’s house. Over and over and over and over again. Somehow she found her way into his lap. He absentmindedly played with her hair, not sure of what was happening on the Tv. He only installed it because she was always bored when he was gone. He didn’t mind the noise, as long as it wasn’t too loud.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last gone ‘feral’. It seemed crude to call it that, but technically that’s what he did. He planned on never getting into that state as long as Y/N was alive. Or at least around him. He hadn’t eaten in a week. He grimaced, knowing his last helping shouldn’t even of lasted him this long. He needed to go. He needed to hunt. But she seemed so content in his lap, and he knew he wouldn’t turn for at least another week if this continued. He had time. He could let her stay like this. She yawned, and looked up at him, smiling sweetly. He was sure he could feel his chest warm up his entire body.

She sat up and turned to lift up his mask, pecking him lightly on the cheek and giving another sweet smile. He never thought of humans as sweet creatures. But the woman in his lap was very sweet. Sweeter than any human he’d ever killed and tasted. Sweeter than the sugar water BEN had forced down his throat once. She was soft and quiet, until she opened her mouth. She had a lot to say then. He had time. He could listen. He could be patient. He would always be patient with her.

He wasn’t so sure how patient he’d be if he went feral. But swiped that thought out of his head. He wouldn’t go feral. He would hunt tomorrow—that’s what he decided. Sure she’d be by herself for a day or two but she knew the drill. He’d feel a bit bad as she clung to him, hopping he wouldn’t leave. A little guilty as he walked away from her as she held back tears. But she knew the drill.

He sometimes forgot that she didn’t have as much time as him. Forgot that one day she would leave this world and her human body would rot and decay into nothingness. She wouldn’t be sweet anymore. She’d be bones that he’d bury under a tree or some shit. He would pass her grave in a thousand years and he might not remember her voice by then. That thought sent him spiraling.

She would die. She was human. One day her life would end. The thought of him forgetting her voice, the way her kisses taste so sweet, the feel of her hands in his hair as a tv he didn’t give two fucks about droned on in the background. He didn’t want to forget. He never wanted to forget how warm her body was, the only temperature he’d ever actually felt. The only thing he’d ever actually love.

He didn’t want to leave her anymore. He hated leaving her. He’s never loathed anything more than being apart from her and knowing that while he was away, she was aging. She would grow old. Her bones would become brittle, and her eyesight would leave her. He would lose her and have to bury her in the ground. Cover her in dirt while bugs chewed at her corpse.

But he had to go. Or he would lose her even earlier, to himself. That would be unbearable. He would never be able to live thousands of more years peacefully if that happened. He might get over it, after how long. That made him hate himself. He looked down at her, her eyes trained to the Tv ahead of them. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and when he pulled back she pushed foreward and caught him by the mouth. He couldn’t help but think about how sweet she was.

She pushed him back even farther, and he let her. Her hands pulled him closer, as close as he could get. She would never get enough of him, of how soft he was. His skin was soft, and so was his mouth. She was sure he’d never picked at the skin there like she had. A bad habit that made her lips bleed and harden. It made her self conscious, but Jack never seemed to mind. She was glad. She wasn’t expecting him to pull away and pull off his shirt. Sure, they’d gotten showers together and all that, but that wasn’t an action with sexual intent behind it. They’d never gotten that far. She assumed he never wanted it, or that she wasn’t desirable. Or maybe demon-like creatures like him just weren’t into things like that.

Him pulling her into his lap seemed to tell her otherwise. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Her mind was a mess. Were they about to have sex? Did he want it? Did she want it? Of couse she did. But did he? Her hands shook, so she gripped his arms, a bit embarrassingly. He probably noticed. He kissed her forehead, sweetly.

“Do you want to?”

She practically gulped. She was incredibly nervous, and her anxiety kept reaching new heights. She’d never even kissed someone before Jack came into her life. She had never been close enough to a person before. This went from 0-100 in minutes. She nodded anyways, but he didn’t seem to believe her.

“Are you sure? You look pale. We don’t have to. We can just go back to cuddling and watching Tv. Okay?”

“No, i’m just nervous. I’ve never done any of this.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think I have either.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t remember much of my human life. I might’ve, but who knows?”

That made her laugh a little, even though it was a bit sad. She felt better, but was still nervous. What if He didn’t like her body, or he was grossed out by it? When was even the last time she shaved literally anything on her body? Probably at least a week or two. She was sure he’d find that disgusting.

“We really don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. But I also haven’t shaved it a while.”

He wanted to laugh at that. That was her reason? He thought it was silly, but if it was serious for her then he’d try to take it seriously too.

“I don’t care about things like that.”

“I haven’t gotten a shower.”

“I don’t care about that either, but if getting a shower and whatever else would make you feel more comfortable then you can do that, obviously. But I really, really, don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive. It seems a bit shallow to really care about something like that. And I honestly find you beautiful no matter what form to appear in. I would still love you just the same if you were covered in dog shit. I wouldn’t fuck you until you got a bath...but I would still love you.”

He felt like she needed just the right amount of love and validation from him to feel more confident, and he hoped he was making her feel better.

“I love you.”

He smiled at her and replied back with, “I love you too.”

He decided not to add ‘more’ or they would get into a full verbal war over who loved and missed who more. It was endearing to watch her fight over it so seriously, but tiring when it went on for more than thirty minutes.

He kissed her forehead again, waiting for her to make the next move. He wouldn’t do anything if she didn’t want him to something. He tried to be gentle and caring with her at all times, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Even if it was the opposite of his nature.

She moved a bit cautiously, and he thought it was cute. Her mouth caught his, and he let her lead. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing anyways, so he figured he might as well go with it. She never sped up, so he didn’t either. She pulled off her clothes slowly, and still a bit nervously. He asked her again if she was sure. And she said yes, and kissed him harder.

He waited till she seemed more comfortable, then picked her up and carried her to the bed. The couch looked uncomfortable to her, and he didn’t want that to be a factor in her nervousness. She felt so soft, and he briefly wondered what he did to deserve this. This sweetness.

She held him closer to her, wrapping her legs against his waist. She had the quick thought that even his waist was perfect, and that that wasn’t really fair. His grey skin somehow made him even prettier, and she continued to think that through the whole night. He was gentle with her, even at the cost of his own pleasure. To him, it was worth everything and more to see her writhe under him, gripping onto him like there was no tomorrow. Her nails dug into his back, and she apologized profusely afterwards, even though he absolutely loved it.

He wanted to watch her move like that everyday for the rest of his never ending life. He only focused on her, and the faces she made. She would try to hide her face in his shoulder, or with a hand, but he always pulled it away so he could see. He kissed her everywhere, touched her everywhere, and she returned the favor, even though they really both had no idea what they were doing at first. It was endearing to watch her do her best for him, and Jack thought he’d never need anything else if only he could have her forever.

One day, she would turn to ash. But until then they would spend every moment they had together loving each other beyond comparison. He would spend his every waking moment living for her, until she would live no more.

#was it sad enough #hehe 👉👈#🌸#creepypasta #eyeless jack #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fic #fic #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack fanfic #eyeless jack fic #slight angst #slight pp warning #fluff #creepypasta fluff

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opalmaplehibiscus · 4 years

Text

A Pirate’s Curse

*Hello Anon! (≧∇≦)ﾉ Thank you for your request! I enjoyed writing it! I hope you don’t mind that I sort of changed the curse by going from immortality to inheritance and that I did you justice with this ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Leona

· He finds out about you having the curse when you spend the night in Savanclaw

· The two of you initially slept together on the bed, until he suddenly wakes up and doesn’t feel or smell you anywhere

· Panic surges through his veins as he opens his eyes and looks around, trying to find where you were

· Sniffing around, he finds you in his closet, scrunched up in the corner

· The minute he asks why the hell you were in his closet; he gets the closet doors slam close at his face. By you. His lover.

· His eyebrows twitches as he starts glaring at you through the wooden doors with burning green eyes

· Banging it open, he tries to get you out of the closet – yanking your leg to pulling your arm as you struggled not to get out

· He doesn’t understand why you were so afraid from coming out when it wasn’t even storming

· It was when he successfully pulls one of your hands past the wooden walls did he see something unexpected

· The hand that once felt soft and warm in his suddenly felt cold and thin. Too thin

· Looking down, he blankly looks at the skeletal hand that was attached to you. Billions of questions pass through his mind, only to snap out of it when you pull your hand back and held it close to your chest

· It doesn’t help how your hand turn back to a normal, living human as he stares at you

· He starts asking the most obvious and cliché question, tempted to ask as a follow if you were a lich

· However, he stops when he hears you sniffling. The last thing he actually wanted for you to cry but here you were, shedding tears making him feel guilty for some reason and even more annoyed

· After thinking all the ways to make you feel better for a few moments, he grumbles at you to scooch before he climbs in and hugs you in the now crowded space

· He pats your hair and held you in his arms, letting you cry in peace

· He doesn’t expect you to explain about how you inherited the curse from your ancestors in between your sobs, but carefully listens

· Was he aware you had a curse? Yeah, he honestly did. Your scent never smelled as if you were part of the living and the way you eat? Don’t get him started

· The biggest confirmation you made to him were during the times you made jokes about your curse

· His best subject wasn’t ancient incantation for nothing. The moment you said those things, he already put two and two together, finding out you were under a curse

· But why he didn’t say anything about it? Because he loves you

· He didn’t want to invade your privacy and push you to saying it when you didn’t want to talk about it. In his heart, the fear of you one day leaving him still exists – and like hell he’ll screw up to cause that to happen

· He loves you and worked hard to hard to date you. And for, he’s willing to do anything to make you happy

· It’s with those feelings, anger towards your ancestors and their stupid mistake fills Leona as he listens to the full story, realizing how your pain are similar to his

· Both of you suffer from each other’s ancestors’ decisions/mistakes – getting screwed over one way or another

· Although, when you talk about the curse, it explains why you didn’t seem deterred by the dorm’s heat despite wearing the school’s stuffy uniform to a T and survive the deadliest attacks, especially when fighting a person that OBed

· When you finally calm down, he kisses your foreheard, cheeks, and then the lips before he tells you no matter what you are and whatever form you take, he would always love you

· As some he’s willing to risk his everything for, he’ll never let you go nor would he ever make you feel unloved. You were his just as he was yours and he wouldn’t want anything else

· After saying that, he ends up having to comfort you again as you cry once more, nuzzling into your hair as he holds you tightly, wanting to keep you together and prevent you from breaking

Ruggie

· He finds out about your curse after noticing something about your scent

· Ruggie lived in the slums and experienced all kinds of things, including death. So when he smells death on you, he already knew something was going on

· You’re alive, looking perfectly fine and normal. Heck it seems as if you have hot red blood pumping through your veins. It doesn’t make sense why you would smell like that

· As times goes by, he starts noticing small habits you make like how you wouldn’t eat and not sweating when your dorm was 40°C after the magic stone was stolen by the fairies

· Heck he still remembers the time you completely freaked out when you stayed over at Savanaclaw, after making that stupid deal with Azul, asking to have the futon farthest away from Leona’s windows

· He knows all-to-well that you would never tell what was going on or what you were hiding from if he asks directly so slowly gets you to confess and pick up the hints whenever the two of you speak

· When he purposely complains about how hard his life is, the jokes you often made are all related to curses that was often taught in class, especially in regards to curses

· Ruggie finally gets you to confess when you say about “better not to steal and get cursed though” after he complains about how Leona was irresponsible and makes him tempted to steal 5000 madols from his wallet

· He purposely asks what you meant, wanting you to explain. And without you realizing it, you talk about your curse – how it was derived from your ancestor’s greed and thievery that led to generations to suffer from it

· By the time you finish, Ruggie hums and replies with “so, like you?”

· It makes him feel awful as he looks into your eyes filled with shock, horror, and fear. He cuts you off when you start feigning ignorance, confessing how he knew you were hiding something

· Ruggies begs you to hear him out when you start turning around, about to run away, as he grabs your wrist with a firm yet gentle grasp

· It takes him a while to calm you down, yet soon enough he gets you to at least let him explain himself

· He tells you how he didn’t want to intrude your privacy because he wanted to use it against you or anything bad. For once…he…just wanted to help you

· To him, you are the first person he had ever fallen in love with. Someone who chose to be with him despite his bloodied and blacken hands and all the crimes he does because of his situation

· Ruggie just couldn’t help but want to help you, thinking how unfair it is for you to help him through his own troubles and pain when it was obvious to him you were going something worse than him

· Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes as he continues on how much you meant to him yet he isn’t able to even take away the thing that was making you suffer because he didn’t know about

· When he hears you say sorry though, he stops talking and look at you incredulously

· The whole point of this wasn’t so you could blame yourself. It was to let you he’ll continue to help you and stay by your side. Not to listen how you hurt him when you didn’t mean to at all

· Having enough of it, he pulls you into a hug as you sob into his chest as he calls you an idiot

· As you cry in his arms, he promises you he would steal you away if you ever leave him and will forever be with you because to him you are his special treasure, the one he ever gained without stealing

· He seals the promise with a kiss on your lips as he uses his thumbs to wipe your tears away from your cheeks

Jack

· He finds after seeing you not eat

· Jack worries as he sees you eat so little and would often push you to eat more despite your complaints

· This leads to you two’s first fight as a couple, after you got tired of Jack nagging at you to eat and Jack asking why the hell you won’t eat out of worry

· The both of you wouldn’t speak to each other for a few days, you telling Ace and Grim how you were tired of listening him while Jack goes on about him just being worried about you to Deuce and Epel

· Eventually, the first-year squad gets tired from having to deal with you two sulking and tries to get you to get back together

· Their attempts fail each time especially after Sebek joined in and pulls an attempt. (They don’t speak about what happened. All you have to know was that it nearly works until Sebek yells for you two to make up)

· Finally, they use their last resort and lock you two in the room

· Things starts out small, giving a one-worded answer when the other asks a question, not looking at each other

· After a moment of silence, it’s Jack who ends up apologizing first

· He says how he feels bad about how he forces you to eat when it’s clear you don’t want to, though it stems from how he was worried about your health

· He loves you to the point of looking out for you because he wants to protect his first and only love he devotes himself to. He loves you and wants you to be well so he’ll at least feel assured you and him could spend time with each other in the future

· After saying all of this, finally, he looks at you and promises that he won’t force you to eat if you could give him the reason why you couldn’t

· He gives you a sad look filled with worry and fear – worry for your wellbeing and fear that his question would end up causing him to lose you

· He asks whether it’s because you have a disease or you were trying out a new training diet until you cut him off and tell him it’s none of those; that it was because of the curse you inherited

· As you explain, his hands turn into fists and shake as he feels his heart getting torn and broken from how much you suffer from it and anger that your ancestor’s greed caused you to be like this

· As soon as you tell him that it’s fine if he wants to break up with someone as awful as yourself, he surprised you by wrapping an arm around your shoulders and the other around your head, pulling you towards him

· He tells you he would never do that, even if it was today or 50 years later

· His voice trembles as he says how, for the rest of his life, he’ll be the one to stay by your side, never to make you lonely and protect you and your heart

· You were his first – his one and only. And as his mate, he will never let you go and let you down

· He kisses the top of your head and cheek before holding you again as tightly as you are, holding his shirt and release all the pain inside you

Jamil

· It’s during one of Scarabia’s banquet Jamil finds out about your curse

· To be completely honest, he somewhat knew about your curse before the incident happens. After all, he served Kalim for 17+ years, defending sunshine boy from all kinds of dangers. Did you really think you had a chance of hiding something from him?

· The way you stay away from the windows and any area where the moonlight touches like a plague, not eating when Kalim begs you to try some, and heck, wearing the winter uniform in Scarabia

· But that wasn’t all. Whenever food was offered to you, he sees the flash of desire crossing over your face and your hand twitching, only to end up saying no. Whenever you try to walk near the window and look at the starry sky, fear and shock are in your eyes a second later before you walk away from it

· He tries to get you to talk about it whenever you two were alone, purposely bringing up his past and his family. Too bad it back fires and ends up him getting comforted by you as you would either hold his hand or pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his head as you say the right things he wants and needs to hear

· However, frustration builds up inside him as he notices it wasn’t just during the banquet you behave strangely. Whenever he sees you at the cafeteria, he sees the same thing happening

· And like Leona, Jamil’s best subject was ancient incantations. Put your jokes and what he sees together and he realizes the same thing Leona realizes it

· It’s why Jamil grabs your hands and drags you out of the banquet when you came over with Grim

· He ignores your questions and calls as his grip becomes tighter in each passing second until the two of you reaches his room

· He traps you between his two arms as you lean again the door and looking to his molten steel eyes

· Roles of anger, pain, and sadness comes out of him as he stares deep into your eyes, thinking about how he should approach it without really hurting you

· But knowing all to well how you were tight lipped, he goes for the direct approach, bluntly asking how long you intended to not tell him about your curse

· It takes him everything he has not to flinch when he sees horror cover your face before he ends up trying to calm you down from your break down

· When you start screaming how he doesn’t know about anything, he’s about to yell back until you surprise him with something he didn’t expect to see

· Seeing your skeletal arm instead of your human one under the moonlight makes him widen his eyes, trying to take in what he was seeing

· Jamil quickly snaps out of it though after hearing you sniffling and crying while you explain everything

· Resentment towards your ancestors builds up inside him as all he could think about how you never once were free. Like him, your wings were clipped but before you were born not when you were a kid. And that wasn’t, shouldn’t, be allowed

· By the time you finish, Jamil moves you away from his window, away from the moonlight and kisses you while gently cupping your cheeks

· Breaking the kiss after seeing you calm down; he looks at you while brushing your cheeks with his thumbs affectionately

· He tells you how he didn’t want to see you no, have you feel pain

· The person who charmed his heart – he wants them to be happy. Yet seeing you constantly holding yourself back and not being able to enjoy anything in peace reminds him of his self, he’s now trying to get rid of

· He starts telling you how much he loves you, affectionately looking at you with the softest look you’ll ever see him have as he profess his feeling towards you

· He leans down and has his forehead on yours as he stays with you until you feel better and stop crying

Kalim

· It’s during a magic carpet ride, Kalim finds out about your curse

· Ever since the two of you got together, Kalim would take you on rides whenever you both were free

· The problem was, every time he takes you on one, he would try to spoil you silly but whenever he tries to, you wouldn’t accept it

· He attempts to give you jewelry only to get turn down. Food? Nope, apparently you ate too much so you weren’t hungry

· He didn’t mind you rejecting his gifts. It’s the fact that whenever he tries to give you something, you would look conflicted

· The flash of fear and desire, worry and thankfulness, love and guilt are things he could easily see in your eyes

· Kalim is aware you were hiding something from him – and yes, he knows that secret is the cause to your reactions

· However, he doesn’t push you to tell him. He loves you too much and didn’t want to lose you

· He knows what’s it like having to hold things in for the sake of others – for the sake of making the people you love happy. He knows it all too well

· In the same time, he wishes you actually tell what’s causing you pain

· You heard him out and listened to his troubles yet the fact that he isn’t able to help carry your burden just like you are with his, rips his heart

· Who would’ve ever thought that when a ride goes on for too long because you two got carried away having fun, your curse would be revealed?

· Heck the two of you didn’t realize the moon was out until Kalim starts taking you back to the dorms only to stare at you when he tries to say something

· He’s looking at you with wide eyes before he laughs and asks you when you learned to change your appearance

· At that moment, Kalim wants to slap himself in the face when horror, or what he thinks is horror, covers your expression

· He and the magic carpet struggles to get you to stop jumping off the carpet

· During the struggle, Kalim realizes how, whenever his or the carpets’ shadow covers you from the moonlight, you end looking normal again

· With that in mind, Kalim takes off his cardigan and covers you from head to toe before pulling you into a hug

· He holds you tight, completely blocking the moonlight from you as he gently starts patting your head and shivering back

· Silence with the only sounds of you sniffling was heard as the two of you stay that way

· When it seems like you were calmer than before, he gently asks if this was what you were hiding from him

· He listens to you carefully, giving you his full attention, when you nod and reveal how you received the curse and where it came from

· Just from hearing it, he bites his lips from frustration, grief, and pain. He had always wondered why you understand him so well but to think it was because of this

· He leans back a bit, getting to see your human face as his shadow and cardigan still cover your form

· The corner of his eyes holds tears as he looks down to you and tells you how he wishes he had known. He didn’t mean to give you pain and make you suffer more than you already are with his actions yet to give the only person, who actually knows him deep inside and loves him just like how he loves them, pain…

· Seeing how you were starting to get scared when seeing the moonlight behind, he mutters an apology and quickly pulls you in towards his chest again, telling you he will always love you whether you had a curse or not because you were irreplaceable to him. His one and only treasure

· He pulls your head under his chin and continues to protect you against the light of the moon as he feels tears getting soaked into his shirt

#twst #twisted wonderland #hc #headcanon #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #jamil viper #kalim al asim

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woulddieforperrytheplatypus · 4 years

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Dan Povenmire, co-creator of Phineas and Ferb and the voice of Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, just did a zoom call for fans, and this is a link to it on Google Drive and a link to it on YouTube.

Here’s a brief overlay brought to you by my incessant live blogging, and because I was speed typing on my phone, I can guarantee not everything made the cut. If you’re interested in hearing Dan talk about growing up an artist and becoming an animator and trying to pitch Phineas and Ferb and working on the show and movies, I would definitely suggest checking out the full 75 minute video. The highlights from the call are below the cut.

They added Doof and Perry because they liked chase scenes. They realized fairly quickly that more than not, the pair led to good comedy, and found it much more interesting to see how their relationship developed. He also says that they are "the most important person to each other” and “they’re really good friends.”

They wrote the Perry theme song in an hour between meetings with Disney

They decided during the pilot that they weren't going to try to get comedy from the characters saying mean things to each other. Even Doofenshmirtz wasn't motivated by evil, he just wanted to get the attention he didn't get at home.

Doof’s backstories were not Dan and Swampy's idea. They were from Jon Barry and Chris Hendrick, who [itched the lawn gnome backstory. It was long and compliated and Dan and Swampy couldn’t stop laughing. They also provided the "it all started on the day of my birth” one the next day.

making the 2D movie while making the movie was the busiest Dan says he has ever been, and that's not even counting the PnF Take Two and Doof's web show and all the interviews. Basically, 2010ish was a very busy time in the Dwampyverse.

They decided to give each pair of writers their own section of an outline to work on, and each pair got to make up the dialogue and jokes based on it. it works well for the show, but writers kept going on their own tangents and the movie ended up like 6 hours long. Dan and Kyle Menke had to redraw 80% of the show because they had to cut gags out and rewrite it so it was still funny. Note: in the new movie, they did the opposite — they wrote a script and told the board artists that they could put brief gags in but nothing too long

He thinks the show became one of the most beloved shows bc it was innocent and the adult humor wasn't dirty so the whole family could watch it together. He also said the songs at the closest thing you get to immortality in a show. Those combined made the show as big of a hit as it was, and hopefully those things will get older people to watch the movie.

His advice if you want to follow in his footsteps are to draw (and suggest you check out Cartoon Animation by Preston Blaire and How to Draw Comics the Marvel Way by Stan Lee) and to know that these jobs are out there

One of his favorite gags in PnF are the silent moments where something big happens and no one reacts (like something big fell in an early episode and crashed next to Phineas and co and at first they were all shocked but Dan changed it to them just kinda looking at it for a moment with no emotion)

Q: Did you ever want to quit what you were going?

A: "I don't really... do... anything else..."

He finished his new pilot today (July 2nd, 2020) and the movie is due tomorrow.

He would love to do more PnF and there's been talks of another PnF movie

He would love to do more Milo Murphy's Law, but it never got huge ratings and Disney's not too big on it but if people start watching it on Disney+ they might get to keep doing it. They did that with Family Guy, and it could happen to MML too.

The movie feels like old Phineas and Ferb and there are a lot of great songs!

And now, the Q&A (in which he draws random characters are he talks)

How was the process of kicking the voices?

It was sometime easy but sometimes very difficult. For Phineas, they listened to maybe a thousand people. they actually recorded someone but they put it to animation and it didn't really work. He knew as soon as he heard Vincent that he loved him. They literally recasted the lead (Vincent) the day before they had to deliver the pilot.

He knew immediately that he liked Alison Stoner. She was the second Isabella he heard, and he listened to maybe 50 others afterwards, but he knew he wanted Alison Stoner

They decided on a different Candace and they sent it to the head of the channel and the guy asked if he heard Ashley Tisdale. He told Dan to have her come in and give her direction and Dan was hesitant bc he had one that he liked but he was lowkey forced to bring her in. It was his only audition that day, and after his big block of text Dan gave her like 20 notes and she wrote the notes on the big block of text and she did it again and it was perfect and obviously Candace (but he feels bad for the actress that was almost Candace bc she'll never know how close she was)

What was the most impactful episode you worked on?

Either the last (hard to watch w/o crying) or three moments that made himcey while doing them: the end of Summer Belongs To You when Phineas gives up trying to get off the island and decides to watch the sunset with Isabella which was what she always wanted and she exploded and talked him back up onto being the person he is even tho it's a sacrifice on her behalf. He later says he started crying while pitching to his wife the AYA scene of Phinabella getting together.

Do you regret any episodes?

There are some he likes more and some he likes less but he doesn't regret any of them. He was a little disappointed in an early episode without a sing but he watched it alter and decided it was actually pretty decent. None of them make him cringe or wonder why they did that.

How has social media impacted PnF?

He recently got on TikTok and found out that's where all the PnF fans are. He was thrilled to see the response everything was getting and it made him feel good about everything he accomplished. The fact that this generation knows what an aglet is is his biggest accomplishment in pop culture.

Favorite part of working on the show/movie

He likes editing, but writing the songs is the most fun bc it feels the least like work

Who is Ferb's mom?

Never established or really thought about Ferb's mom or Phineas's dad AND IT'S NOT DOOFENSHMIRTZ THEY MADE IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR THAT TO BE TRUE STOP ASKING and Phineas and Candace are full brother and sister. The bio parents aren't interesting to them bc the family already has a mom and dad and the other ones are just out of the picture and not important.

Will there be a new character in the movie?

Super Super Big Doctor (and Disney keeps telling him what he can and can't talk about)

Are there any secrets or theories that he can tell them?

The freaking creepy pasta about schitzophrenic Candace IS NOT TRUE Phineas and Ferb do exist and are alive. There's also a theory that Candace is not based on the diary of a teen girl in Russia who killed herself, and that's not true either. He genuinely thinks they are really freaking stupid theories and they make no sense at all.

Who is your favorite guest star?

Writing a song with Slash from Guns n Roses was really cool. He also liked working with Ben Stiller, Christian Slater the delivery guy (he called and said he'd do any part in MML so they wrote him a role), Jack McBrayer (Irving/Fix It Felix), Wayne Brady (co-wrote In The Empire)

What is the motivation of Candace to bust the boys?

He's not trying to hurt them. She doesn't dislike them. She gets irritated but she's really just looking for fairness. If she built a rollercoaster in the backyard, she'd get in trouble, so they should get in trouble, too.

How did you think about hot to end the show?

Disney was starting to cool off on PnF. The merch wave had plateaued. Dan and Swampy had the next two years in the show already made, but Disney wouldn't pick up another season until they finished airing that season. They'd have to restaff for a new season and they didn't like that idea, so they turned one of their hour long specials into the finale. He wanted to be able to say goodbye and thank the fans.

#phineas and ferb #dan povenmire #candance against the universe #catu #PnF #I'm working on getting the zoom call on youtube but it's taking forever

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friccinfricks · 3 years

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why i’m lowkey in love with rock of ages

- the music fucking slaps harder than any other shit ever in the history of my time on earth - i would actually argue that some of the covers from the movie are at the same level as the original songs, if not better - look ik that’s a bad opinion but if you don’t believe me, watch this shit. it’s phenomenal - it very shamelessly involves a “fuck taxes and the government they’re freaking losers” theme and I LOVE THAT SHIT - i eat that shit up - it also has two pretty significant actors (alec baldwin and that one british guy that’s just kinda wild) in a pretty nice, queer relationship, even if it isn’t the main relationship of the movie the fact that it was included was nice and it made me happy - (the british guy’s name is russel brand, my bad) - and the hetero relationship is honestly a vibe - cutesy girl from oklahoma coming to LA and meeting the sexiest simp alive? okay fuck yes - the movie has some flaws, but it shows real, human things. - it had legitimate issues and didn’t really, gloss over them, despite it still being a fun musical and still feeling light - the tom cruise portrayal of stacee jacks felt really spot on, and reminded me a lot of Bohemian Rhapsody and The Dirt, in reference to stardom kind of taking over rocker’s lives and making them feel incapable of love, only being sex icons, and overall outcasts in society, even if they’re revered by a certain populus - i think he as an actor (or maybe some of it hit kinda close to home, who knows) did a really good job with it, and the movie offers a similar observation as Bohemian Rhapsody did, but only from the opposite perspective. i think tom did great showing the inhumane part of being a rockstar, just like rami malek did - so even if it was a little bit uncomfy seeing a drunk-off-his-ass-kinda-strange-and-very-dark-conceptually storyline, it felt real - and that’s why it mattered to me - “yeah sure whatever that means” I LOST MY SHIT KNOWING THAT DIEGO BONETA IS LITERALLY SPANISH AND PUERTO RICAN AND SEEING THAT MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD LIKE YES DIEGO, YOU PLAY THE FUCK OUT OF THAT VERY TAN WHITE BOY YES - he is literally so underrated as an actor and singer but like, i’m super confused on how that happened since he’s so adorable - like ??? - excuse me have you SEEN his HAIR???? - or his EYELASHES???? - or his EYES???? - OR HIS CUTE LIL CHIN THING IDK WHAT THAT’S CALLED BUT IT’S ADORABLE - he was only 22 when this movie was released but by god he has the talent and charisma of, like, idk, an immortal god - don’t ask i don’t fucking know okay - can you tell that i am also half puerto rican and in love with him and the fact that he’s also half

- also getting back to real human things - it shows what it’s like to be cheated on (or think that you have in drew’s case) and the evolution of making brash decisions, healthy or not, and their consequences

- but ugh that scene gets me so mad where that rat-faced agent convinces him to let Sherrie walk away bc UGH he was trying to communicate with her and so many things could have been avoided if that whore-good-for-nothing-money-hungry-agent had just let the dude be happy holy shit - okay let’s talk about sherrie/julianne hough - SHE IS MY BIGGEST CELEBRITY CRUSH OKAY - NOBODY FUCKING TOUCH HER - i thought she was fantastic, as always - if you go on youtube you can find cut songs/dances and her talent is just so ?? fucking remarkable holy shit - like i distinctly remember watching dancing with the stars and seeing her brother (derek) and being like wOW OKAY BE HOT THEN I SEE YOU - AND THEN I SAW HER AND I JUST AVGEHIKIEW$IFHNK$ - so yeah - loved that she became a stripper and in comparison to drew admits that being in a boy band was more embarrassing lmfao - plus like, she was fucking fantastic - she makes me want to invest in a pole, she was seriously just amazing - i’ll say that about the back-up dancers from the club she was dancing in, too - THEY HIRED THE MOST FANTASTIC FUCKING DANCERS FOR THOSE SCENES OMFG - also can i just say that mary j. blige is such a queen omg - her VOICE holy shit - i can’t even listen to Don’t Stop Believing by Journey without wanting to hear her freaking vocals omfg - girl’s got pipes that’s all i gotta say - overall i just love this movie and would suggest it to anyone and everyone - and while i wish they included some of julianne’s cut scenes, they were worth the find on youtube and i get how they could have made this film Very Not PG-13, which is lame but i’m just glad they’re out there tbh - also if you didn’t know i’m in love with pretty much the majority of the cast so my opinion is extremely biased but who cares - i kinda just made this post for me so that i can allow myself to die over and over again when i think about all of the very talented people in this film

#rock of ages #diego boneta #mary j blige #julianne hough #rock of ages movie #tom cruise #idk renee's rambles don't ask

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letterboxd · 3 years

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Best of Sundance 2021.

From pandemic-era stories, via portraits of grief, to the serendipitous 1969 trilogy, the Letterboxd crew recaps our favorite films from the first major festival of the year.

Sundance heralds a new season of storytelling, with insights into what’s concerning filmmakers at present, and what artistic innovations may be on the horizon. As with every film festival, there were spooky coincidences and intersecting themes, whether it was a proliferation of pandemic-era stories, or extraordinary portraits of women working through grief (Land, Hive, The World to Come), or the incredible serendipity of the festival’s ‘1969 trilogy’, covering pivotal moments in Black American history: Summer of Soul (...Or When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised), Judas and the Black Messiah and the joyful Street Gang: How We Got to Sesame Street.

The hybrid model of this year’s Sundance meant more film lovers across the United States—a record number of you, in fact—‘attended’ the prestigious indie showcase. Our Festiville team (Gemma Gracewood, Aaron Yap, Ella Kemp, Selome Hailu, Jack Moulton and Dominic Corry) scanned your Letterboxd reviews and compared them with our notes to arrive at these seventeen feature-length documentary and narrative picks from Sundance 2021. There are plenty more we enjoyed, but these are the films we can’t stop thinking about.

Documentary features

Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) Directed by Ahmir-Khalib Thompson (AKA Questlove)

One hot summer five decades ago, there was a free concert series at a park in Harlem. It was huge, and it was lovely, and then it was forgotten. The Harlem Cultural Festival of 1969 brought together some of the world’s most beloved Black artists to connect with Black audiences. The star power and the size of the crowds alone should have been enough to immortalize the event à la Woodstock—which happened the same summer, the film emphasizes. But no one cared to buy up the footage until Ahmir-Khalib Thompson, better known as Questlove, came along.

It would have been easy to oversimplify such a rich archive by stringing together the performances, seeking out some talking heads, and calling it a day. But Questlove was both careful and ebullient in his approach. “Summer of Soul is a monumental concert documentary and a fantastic piece of reclaimed archived footage. There is perhaps no one better suited to curate this essential footage than Questlove, whose expertise and passion for the music shines through,” writes Matthew on Letterboxd. The film is inventive with its use of present interviews, bringing in both artists and attendees not just to speak on their experiences, but to react to and relive the footage. The director reaches past the festival itself, providing thorough social context that takes in the moon landing, the assassinations of Black political figures, and more. By overlapping different styles of documentary filmmaking, Questlove’s directorial debut embraces the breadth and simultaneity of Black resilience and joy. A deserving winner of both the Grand Jury and Audience awards (and many of our unofficial Letterboxd awards). —SH

Flee Directed by Jonas Poher Rasmussen

Flee is the type of discovery Sundance is designed for. Danish documentarian Jonas Poher Rasmussen tells the poignant story of his close friend and former classmate (using the pseudonym ‘Amin Nawabi’) and his daring escape from persecution in 1990s Afghanistan. Rasmussen always approaches tender topics with sensitivity and takes further steps to protect his friend’s identity by illustrating the film almost entirely in immersive animation, following in the footsteps of Waltz With Bashir and Tower. It’s a film aware of its subjectivity, allowing the animated scenes to alternate between the playful joy of nostalgia and the mournful pain of an unforgettable memory. However, these are intercepted by dramatic archive footage that oppressively brings the reality home.

“Remarkably singular, yet that is what makes it so universal,” writes Paul. “So many ugly truths about the immigration experience—the impossible choices forced upon people, and the inability to really be able to explain all of it to people in your new life… You can hear the longing in his voice, the fear in his whisper. Some don’t get the easy path.” Winner of the World Cinema (Documentary) Grand Jury Prize and quickly acquired by Neon, Flee is guaranteed to be a film you’ll hear a lot about for the rest of 2021. —JM

Taming the Garden Directed by Salomé Jashi

There’s always a moment at a film festival when fatigue sets in, when the empathy machine overwhelms, and when I hit that moment in 2021, I took the advice of filmmaker and Sundance veteran Jim Cummings, who told us: “If you’re ever stressed or tired, watch a documentary to reset yourself.” Taming the Garden wasn’t initially on my hit-list, but it’s one of those moments when the ‘close your eyes and point at a random title’ trick paid off. Documentary director Salomé Jashi does the Lorax’s work, documenting the impact and grief caused by billionaire former Georgian PM Bidzina Ivanishvili’s obsession with collecting ancient trees for his private arboretum.

“A movie that is strangely both infuriating and relaxing” writes Todd, of the long, locked-off wide shots showing the intense process of removing large, old trees from their village homes. There’s no narration, instead Jashi eavesdrops on locals as they gossip about Ivanishvili, argue about whether the money is worth it, and a feisty, irritated 90-year-old warns of the impending environmental fallout. “What you get out of it is absolutely proportional to what you put into it,” writes David, who recommends this film get the IMAX treatment. It’s arboriculture as ASMR, the timeline cleanse my Sundance needed. The extraordinary images of treasured trees being barged across the sea will become iconic. —GG

The Most Beautiful Boy in the World Directed by Kristian Petri and Kristina Lindström

Where Taming the Garden succeeds through pure observation, The Most Beautiful Boy in the World relies on the complete participation of its title subject, actor Björn Andrésen, who was thrust into the spotlight as a teenager. Cast by Italian director Lucino Visconti in Death in Venice, a 1971 adaptation of Thomas Mann’s novella about obsession and fatal longing, Andrésen spent the 1970s as an object of lust, with a side-gig as a blonde pop star in Japan, inspiring many manga artists along the way.

As we know by now (Alex Winter’s Showbiz Kids is a handy companion to this film), young stardom comes at a price, one that Andrésen was not well-placed to pay even before his fateful audition for Visconti. But he’s still alive, still acting (he’s Dan in Midsommar), and ready to face the mysteries of his past. Like Benjamin Ree’s excellent The Painter and the Thief from last year, this documentary is a constantly unfolding detective story, notable for great archive footage, and a deep kindness towards its reticent yet wide-open subject. —GG

All Light, Everywhere Directed by Theo Anthony

Threading the blind spots between Étienne-Jules Marey’s 19th-century “photographic rifle”, camera-carrying war pigeons and Axon’s body-cam tech, Theo Anthony’s inquisitive, mind-expanding doc about the false promise of the all-seeing eye is absorbing, scary, urgent. It’s the greatest Minority Report origin story you didn’t know you needed.

Augmented by Dan Deacon’s electronic soundscapes and Keaver Brenai’s lullingly robotic narration, All Light, Everywhere proves to be a captivating, intricately balanced experience that Harris describes as “one part Adam Curtis-esque cine-essay”, “one part structural experiment in the vein of Koyaanisqatsi” and “one part accidental character study of two of the most familiar yet strikingly unique evil, conservative capitalists…”. Yes, there’s a tremendous amount to download, but Anthony’s expert weaving, as AC writes, “make its numerous subjects burst with clarity and profundity.” For curious cinephiles, the oldest movie on Letterboxd, Jules Jenssen’s Passage de Vénus (1874), makes a cameo. —AY

The Sparks Brothers Directed by Edgar Wright

Conceived at a Sparks gig in 2017 upon the encouragement of fellow writer-director Phil Lord, Edgar Wright broke his streak of riotous comedies with his first (of many, we hope) rockumentary. While somewhat overstuffed—this is, after all, his longest film by nearly fifteen minutes—The Sparks Brothers speaks only to Wright’s unrestrained passion for his art-pop Gods, exploring all the nooks and crannies of Sparks’ sprawling career, with unprecedented access to brothers and bandmates Ron and Russell Mael.

Nobody else can quite pin them down, so Wright dedicates his time to put every pin in them while he can, building a mythology and breaking it down, while coloring the film with irresistible dives into film history, whimsically animated anecdotes and cheeky captions. “Sparks rules. Edgar Wright rules. There’s no way this wasn’t going to rule”, proclaims Nick, “every Sparks song is its own world, with characters, rules, jokes and layers of narrative irony. What a lovely ode to a creative partnership that was founded on sticking to one’s artistic guns, no matter what may have been fashionable at the time.” —JM

Narrative features

The Pink Cloud Written and directed by Iuli Gerbase

The Pink Cloud is disorienting and full of déjà vu. Brazilian writer-director Iuli Gerbase constructs characters that are damned to have to settle when it comes to human connection. Giovana and Yago’s pleasant one-night stand lasts longer than expected when the titular pink cloud emerges from the sky, full of a mysterious and deadly gas that forces everyone to stay locked where they stand. Sound familiar? Reserve your groans—The Pink Cloud wasn’t churned out to figure out “what it all means” before the pandemic is even over. Gerbase wrote and shot the film prior to the discovery of Covid-19.

It’s “striking in its ability to prophesize a pandemic and a feeling unknown at the time of its conception. What was once science fiction hits so close now,” writes Sam. As uncanny as the quarantine narrative feels, what’s truly harrowing is how well the film predicts and understands interiorities that the pandemic later exacerbated. Above all, Giovana is a woman with unmet needs. She is a good partner, good mother and good person even when she doesn’t want to be. Even those who love her cannot see how their expectations strip her of her personhood, and the film dares to ask what escape there might be when love itself leaves you lonely. —SH

Together Together Written and directed by Nikole Beckwith

Every festival needs at least one indie relationship dramedy, and Together Together filled that role at Sundance 2021 with a healthy degree of subversion. It follows rom-com structure while ostensibly avoiding romance, instead focusing on how cultivating adult friendships can be just hard, if not harder.

Writer-director Nikole Beckwith warmly examines the limits of the platonic, and Patti Harrison and Ed Helms are brilliantly cast as the not-couple: a single soon-to-be father and the surrogate carrying his child. They poke at each other’s boundaries with a subtle desperation to know what makes a friendship appropriate or real. As Jacob writes: “It’s cute and serious, charming without being quirky. It’s a movie that deals with the struggle of being alone in this world, but offers a shimmer of hope that even if you don’t fall in fantastical, romantic, Hollywood love… there are people out there for you.” —SH

Hive Written and directed by Blerta Basholli

Hive, for some, may fall into the “nothing much happens” slice-of-life genre, but Blerta Basholli’s directorial debut holds an ocean of pain in its small tale, asking us to consider the heavy lifting that women must always do in the aftermath of war. As Liz writes, “Hive is not just a story about grief and trauma in a patriarchy-dominated culture, but of perseverance and the bonds created by the survivors who must begin to consider the future without their husbands.”

Yllka Gashi is an understated hero as Fahrjie, a mother-of-two who sets about organizing work for the women of her village, while awaiting news of her missing husband—one of thousands unaccounted for, years after the Kosovo War has ended. The townsmen have many opinions about how women should and shouldn’t mourn, work, socialize, parent, drive cars and, basically, get on with living, but Fahrjie persists, and Basholli sticks close with an unfussy, tender eye. “It felt like I was a fly on the wall, witnessing something that was actually happening,” writes Arthur. Just as in Robin Wright’s Land and Mona Fastvold’s The World to Come, Hive pays off in the rare, beaming smile of its protagonist. —GG

On the Count of Three Directed by Jerrod Carmichael, written by Ari Katcher and Ryan Welch

It starts with an image: two best friends pointing guns at each other’s heads. There’s no anger, there’s no hatred—this is an act of merciful brotherly love. How do you have a bleak, gun-totin’ buddy-comedy in 2021 and be critically embraced without contradicting your gun-control retweets or appearing as though your film is the dying embers of Tarantino-tinged student films?

Comedian Jerrod Carmichael’s acerbic directorial debut On the Count of Three achieves this by calling it out every step of the way. Guns are a tool to give insecure men the illusion of power. They are indeed a tool too terrifying to trust in the hands of untrained citizens. Carmichael also stars, alongside Christopher Abbott, who has never been more hilarious or more tragic, bringing pathos to a cathartic rendition of Papa Roach’s ‘Last Resort’. Above all, Carmichael and Abbott’s shared struggle and bond communicates the millennial malaise: how can you save others if you can’t save yourself? “Here’s what it boils down to: life is fucking hard”, Laura sums up, “and sometimes the most we can hope for is to have a best friend who loves you [and] to be a best friend who loves. It doesn’t make life any easier, but it sure helps.” Sundance 2021 is one for the books when it comes to documentaries, but On the Count of Three stands out in the fiction lineup this year. —JM

Censor Directed by Prano Bailey-Bond, written by Bailey-Bond and Anthony Fletcher

The first of several upcoming films inspired by the ‘video nasty’ moral panic over gory horror in mid-’80s Britain, Prano Bailey-Bond leans heavily into both the period and the genre in telling the story of a film censor (a phenomenal Niamh Algar—vulnerable and steely at the same time) who begins to suspect a banned movie may hold the key to her sister’s childhood disappearance. Often dreamlike, occasionally phantasmagorical and repeatedly traumatic, even if the worst gore presented (as seen in the impressively authentic fictional horrors being appraised) appears via a screen, providing a welcome degree of separation.

Nevertheless, Censor is definitely not for the faint of heart, but old-school horror aficionados will squeal with delight at the aesthetic commitment. “I’m so ecstatic that horror is in the hands of immensely talented women going absolutely batshit in front of and behind the camera.” writes Erik. (Same here!) “A great ode to the video-nasty era and paying tribute to the great horror auteurs of the ’80s such as Argento, De Palma and Cronenberg while also doing something new with the genre. Loved this!” writes John, effectively encapsulating Censor’s unfettered film-nerd appeal. —DC

CODA Written and directed by Siân Heder

A film so earnest it shouldn’t work, with a heart so big it should surely not fit the size of the screen, CODA broke records (the first US dramatic film in Sundance history to win all three top prizes; the 25-million-dollar sale to Apple Studios), and won the world over like no other film. “A unique take on something we’ve seen so much,” writes Amanda, nailing the special appeal of Siân Heder’s coming-of-ager and family portrait. Emilia Jones plays Ruby, the only hearing person in her deaf family, at war between the family business and her passion for singing. While Heder is technically remaking the French film La Famille Bélier, the decision to cast brilliant deaf actors—Troy Kotsur, Marlee Matlin and Daniel Durant—makes this feel brand new.

But it’s not just about representation for the sake of it. A sense of authenticity, in humor as much as affection, shines through. With a script that’s 40 per cent ASL, so many of the jokes are visual gags, poking fun at Tinder and rap music, but a lot of the film’s most poignant moments are silent as well. And in Ruby’s own world, too, choir kids will feel seen. “I approve of this very specific alto representation and the brilliant casting of the entire choir,” Laura confirms in her review. Come for the fearless, empathetic family portrait, stay for the High School Musical vibes that actually ring true. —EK

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair Written and directed by Jane Schoenbrun

Perhaps the most singular addition to the recent flurry of Extremely Online cinema—Searching, Spree, Host, et al—Jane Schoenbrun’s feature debut ushers the viewer into a haunted, hypno-drone miasma of delirium-inducing YouTube time-suck, tenebrous creepypasta lore and painfully intimate webcam confessionals. Featuring an extraordinarily unaffected, fearless performance by newcomer Anna Cobb, the film “unpacks the mythology of adolescence in a way that’s so harrowingly familiar and also so otherworldly”, writes Kristen. Not since Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Pulse has there been such an eerily lonely, and at times strangely beautiful, evocation of the liminal spaces between virtual and real worlds.

For members of the trans community, it’s also a work that translates that experience to screen with uncommon authenticity. “What Schoenbrun has accomplished with the form of We’re All Going to the World’s Fair is akin to catching a wisp of smoke,” writes Willow, “because the images, mood and aesthetic that they have brought to life is one that is understood completely by trans people as one of familiarity, without also plunging into the obvious melodrama, or liberal back-patting that is usually associated with ‘good’ direct representation.” One of the most original, compelling new voices to emerge from Sundance this year. —AY

Judas and the Black Messiah Directed by Shaka King, written by King, Will Berson, Kenneth Lucas and Keith Lucas

It was always going to take a visionary, uncompromising filmmaker to bring the story of Fred Hampton, the deputy chairman of the national Black Panther Party, to life. Shaka King casts Daniel Kaluuya as Hampton, and LaKeith Stanfield as William “Wild Bill” O’Neal, the FBI informant whose betrayal leads to Hampton’s assassination. Both actors have never been better, particularly Kaluuya who Fran Hoepfner calls “entrancing, magnetic, fizzling, romantic, riveting, endlessly watchable.”

Judas and the Black Messiah is an electric, involving watch: not just replaying history by following a certain biopic template. Instead, it’s a film with something to say—on power, on fear, on war and on freedom. “Shaka King’s name better reverberate through the halls of every studio after this,” writes Demi. A talent like this, capable of framing such a revolution, doesn’t come around so often. We’d better listen up. —EK

Pleasure Directed by Ninja Thyberg, written by Thyberg and Peter Modestij

A24’s first purchase of 2021. Ironically titled on multiple levels, Pleasure is a brutal film that you endure more than enjoy. But one thing you can’t do is forget it. Ninja Thyberg’s debut feature follows a young Swedish woman (Sofia Kappel) who arrives in Los Angeles with dreams of porn stardom under the name ‘Bella Cherry’. Although Bella is clear-eyed about the business she’s getting into, Thyberg doesn’t shy away from any of the awfulness she faces in order to succeed in an industry rife with exploitation and abuse. Bella does make allies, and the film isn’t suggesting that porn is only stocked with villains, but the ultimate cost is clear, even if it ends on an ever-so-slightly ambiguous note.

Touching as it does on ambition, friendship and betrayal in the sex business, Pleasure is often oddly reminiscent of Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls. Or rather, the gritty film Showgirls was claiming to be, as opposed to the camp classic it became. There’s nothing campy here. Kappel is raw and fearless in the lead, but never lets the viewer lose touch with her humanity. Emma puts it well: “Kappel gives the hardest, most provocative and transfixing performance I’ve seen all festival.” “My whole body was physically tense during this,” writes Gillian, while Keegan perhaps speaks for most when she says “Great film, never want to see it again.” —DC

Coming Home in the Dark Directed by James Ashcroft, written by Ashcroft and Eli Kent

A family camping trip amidst some typically stunnin—and casually foreboding— New Zealand scenery is upended by a shocking rug-pull of violence that gives way to sustained terror represented by Daniel Gillies’ disturbingly calm psychopath. The set-up of this thriller initially suggests a spin on the backwoods brutality thriller, but as Coming Home in the Dark progresses and hope dissipates, the motivations reveal themselves to be much more personal in nature, and informed on a thematic level by New Zealand’s colonial crimes against its Indigenous population. It’s a stark and haunting film that remains disorientating and unpredictable throughout, repeatedly daring the viewer to anticipate what will happen next, only to casually stomp on each glimmer of a positive outcome.

It’s so captivatingly bleak that a viewing of it, as Collins Ezeanyim’s eloquent reaction points out, does not lend itself to completing domestic tasks. The film marks an auspicious debut for director and co-writer James Ashcroft. Jacob writes that he “will probably follow James Ashcroft’s career to the gates of Hell after this one”. Justin hits the nail on the head with his description: “Lean and exceptionally brutal road/revenge film … that trades in genre tropes, especially those of Ozploitation and ’70s Italian exploitation, but contextualizes them in the dark history of its country of origin.” —DC

The World to Come Directed by Mona Fastvold, written by Ron Hansen and Jim Shepard

Mona Fastvold has not made the first, nor probably the last, period romance about forbidden lesbian love. But The World to Come focuses on a specific pocket in time, a world contained in Jim Shepard’s short story ‘Love & Hydrogen’ from within the collection giving the film its name. Katherine Waterston and Vanessa Kirby are Abigail and Tallie, farming neighbors, stifled by their husbands, who find brief moments of solace, of astonishment and joy, together. What shines here is the script, a verbose, delicate narration that emanates beauty more than pretence. “So beautifully restrained and yet I felt everything,” Iana writes.

And you can feel the fluidity and elegance in the way the film sounds, too: composer Daniel Blumberg’s clarinet theme converses with the dialogue and tells you when your heart can break, when you must pause, when the end is near. “So much heartache. So much hunger. So much longing. Waves of love and grief and love and grief,” writes Claira, capturing the ebb and flow of emotion that keeps The World to Come in your mind long after the screen has gone silent. —EK

Related content

The 2021 Sundance Film Festival lineup by Letterboxd rating

Letterboxd’s ‘Official’ Top 50 of 2021

Awards Season 2020-2021: our awards-tracker list

Letterboxd’s Festiville HQ: our home for up-to-the-minute festival coverage

#sundance #sundance film festival #sundance 2021 #sundance2021 #questlove #summer of soul #black woodstock #shaka king #judas and the black messiah #letterboxd top 50 #best of sundance 2021 #letterboxd

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ask-anti-cosmo · 3 years

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The return of Anti-Cosmo part 2

Part 1

Anti-cosmo stayed in the suite, knowing you had to come back sometime, especially since you told him you were a day out to land. You dreaded coming back to your room but found him on the computer on a social media site.

“Is there a Anti-fairy Facebook page?” you asked sarcastically.

“Anti-Fairies, as well as Fairies, are very well connected believe it or not. You just need to know the right sites to look for. And even then, only magical beings can use it, if you’re mortal you only see a blank page.” He explained, not looking up at you. “Won’t be long now.”

“Won’t be long till what?” you frowned.

“Till my wand comes to me. My subordinates are going to help bring it back here, by magic or whatever means it takes.”

“Where were your subordinates when you were in the safe?” you folded your arms.

“I go off on my own a lot, they probably assumed I was following a chosen victim.” He shrugged and turned away from the screen for a minute to face you.

“Is that how you got in that safe in the first place?” you asked expectantly.

His eye twitches slightly. “Hunting requires risk, surely you know that. They had just set up an…elaborate trap I was completely unprepared for. A descendant from one of my victims. One of the only victims I left alive. No matter, I won’t make the same mistake.” He insisted with dignity.

“Why did you let them live in the first place?” you asked curiously.

He sat quietly before picking up a pencil and started doodling on a nearby notebook. He drew a young girl with ringlets and a frilly dress. She looked almost like a sweet porcelain doll.

“My perfect little Doll…in her perfect little dollhouse...” he said fondly.

“Why did she need your help if she was perfect?” you frowned.

“Her family was so painfully flawed, she was trying to save them from their own stupid actions.” He explained. “Then one day, she decided she was done cleaning up after them, left to make her own perfect house, and sent me away. Most of the time my victims call me back, whether conscious or in their hearts, but she never did. The last I saw her was at a ball she threw. I had a lovely time.” He said, looking at the pictures longingly before starting to sketch another woman.

“Who’s that?”

“She was my date to that ball…” he sighed. “I actually might have fallen in love with her…alas, she was human and it didn’t last. I probably could have granted her my immortality but…” he sighed and set down the pencil. He glanced at the computer screen, looking for a response or message for him.

“But…?” you asked expectantly.

He sighed at your persistence, but smiled. “She slit her wrists one night. Humans have such limited mental capacities, and Misfortune follows in my wake. It was probably inevitable.”

“You couldn’t bring her back with magic?” you asked curiously.

“I am not so cruel, I let the dead stay dead. After all, there are plenty of living to choose from.” He shrugged.

He stayed by the computer for the rest of the trip to the harbor. You found a trench coat to wear that you cut the bottom off to fit him better, and hide the fact that he wasn’t wearing pants. You felt he was your responsibility and lead him to your penthouse in the busy metropolis.

“My my my, not such a fancy pants that you own your own place eh? Just a simple flat?” he teased.

“It’s the best you can get in such a place jack*beep*.” You glared. “Besides it’s not my only one, and I do have a house, just not here.”

“Boring.” He rolled his eyes and checked the phone you gave him to monitor his messages. So far there was still nothing, making him huff.

“Alright now, what is there to do around here?” he asked carelessly.

“Why don’t you go check out my closet? You’d look lovely in one of my ball gowns.” You smirked as you greeted your cat.

Anti-Cosmo rose an eyebrow. “You’re just jealous cause I probably would.” He mumbled. “I doubt you have my color.”

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself. Like, what’s with the Anti in front of everything?”

“We are Anti-Fairy dear, we are the equal and opposite forces of the regular fairies. Spelling our names backwards to prove that doesn’t always work. For some it does, but it’s often just easier to say Anti.” He stated simply.

“What, so there’s a regular fairy version of you?”

Anti-cosmo cringed slightly. “He’s an absolute idiot. A goodie goodie nuisance to all he meets. I want nothing to do with him.”

“So if you’re opposites, and you’re the annoying one…” you smirked as he shot you a glare. “Also, if you’re an all powerful magical being, why do you need to drink human blood?”

“Mostly to prevent a magic crash.” He shrugged.

“A what?” you frowned.

“Oh dear, do I need to explain what a crash is?” he sighed.

“No I know how drugs work.”

“Not those kind of drugs!” he insisted with annoyance. “I told you I am full of magic in my veins, correct? So are Fairies. Only they can only let so much build up before exploding. So it’s just called ‘magical build up’. They use the wands and become godparents to help expel the magic as well as do, what they hope is good, by making children happy.” He said with disgust.

“And you what? Use your build-up for evil?”

“Have you not been listening? I am the equal and complete opposite power that is my fairy counterpart! Meaning, my magic regenerates when used, but it is usually at max capacity, that’s normal for an anti-fairy. That being said, when I cast a spell, it takes longer to build back up. If I use too much magic, I will run out, causing a magical crash.”

“Do you explode from mortality?” you teased.

“No.” he huffed then stayed quiet for a minute. “…I implode. It is reversible so it’s not possibly to kill us that way.”

“And you drinking blood comes into play where?”

“I’ve discovered that nothing makes ones magic regenerate faster than human blood.” He licked his lips. “ESEPCIALLY the blood of the misfortunate. Just the thought of meeting a poor soul who’s never succeeded in anything makes my mouth water! Anyways, I always use magic, for everything, so it’s convenient to have a blood supply nearby. However I doubt you’ll have the same effect, so after I get my wand back I will be bidding you a fond farewell.”

“Sounds just fine to me.” You huffed.

“So, what to do till then?” Anti-Cosmo said thoughtfully. “Go to a rave? Go night shopping? Hunt for ghosts in the park~?” he smirked and waved his fingers at you.

“How about sleep? It’s been a long exciting day and I’m exhausted.” You huffed and started getting ready for bed.

“Oh, you can sleep when you’re dead!” he whined and pulled at your sleeve.

“Why don’t you get back online and catch up on the past 15 years worth of memes?” you said and got into bed.

“Oh please, nothing could be funnier than the troll faces that say “u mad?”” he waved his hand at you.

“Oh buddy, you’ve got a lot to learn.” You smirked and went to sleep.

He stared at your sleeping form, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Soon my sweet…so I will have my way with you, you lovely immortal thing~” He licked his lips. He then checked for messages for his lackies and found nothing. “*BEEP*.” He pouted.

In the morning, you laid on your back and Anti-Cosmo was flouting above you. You frowned at the sight of his face and turned over. “Its bad enough I’ve had to deal with you till late last night, but now you have to flout over me while I’m asleep like a creeper?” you huffed.

“What can I say? You enchant me.” He said and started walking his fingers up your back. You shivered and swatted his hand away.

“Still nothing from your people?” you asked and sat up

He sighed and leaned back. “No…which is really odd.”

“Maybe you can try again? Post something else?”

“That would make me look whiny and desperate, then more of them would be less inclined to help me.” He huffed. “Besides, I’d much rather wait and possibly get some breakfast.” He said, looking at you hungrily.

“Oh for crying out…don’t even think about it!” you glared and got up. “You want blood, you’ve got to go to the fridge for a bloodbag.” You said as you walked to the closet.

“People healthy enough to donate blood rarely have enough misfortune to satisfy me.” He pouted.

“Boo hoo, you’ll have to have your cocktails AIDS-free then.” You rolled your eyes. “And if that’s the case, my blood would be nowhere near satisfying.”

“You think living eternally alone is a blessing?” he asked with his eyebrows raised. This did stop you in your tracks.

He drifted towards you, suddenly shrinking down and sitting on your shoulder. “Come on now, you got to taste my blood! I’ve never had Vampire blood before, I’m curious!” he urged.

You hesitated dispute knowing you’d get no benefit from this exchange, as well as you know darn well you owed him nothing. Before you could decide however, a ding came from the phone on the bedside.

Anti-Cosmo zoomed to it, growing to his original size as he snatched it up and read the notification. His mouth grew to a twisted grin, his eyes shimmering with joy.

“Ah, Anti-Juandissimo, you never fail me dear friend.” He smirked.

He suddenly stood up and held up his hand. A black wand with a star at the end appeared in his blue skinned hand. His face broke into a villainous grin as he spun it around and gave it a wave. Magic erupted from it and made his old clothes appear on his body, but they were new and pristine. His monocle returned, dangling from his earlobe before swinging up to it’s place over his eye. Small silver jewelry were placed on his clothes, ear, and wing. Lastly a bowler hat flouted above his hair.

He sighed with relief and stretched slightly. “Yes…perfect. I feel whole again~”

“You look like a Magical girl transforming.” You chuckled.

He looked back at you before waving his wand at you. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, smoke surrounded you, and your clothes changed into a vampire themed Magical girl outfit. Short skirt, a cape, even little bat wings on your head. Your costume was also adorned in silver jewelry and mirrored Anti-Cosmo’s black and blue.

“There, now we match.” He smirked.

You tried to pull the skirt down to cover your legs. “What the *Beep*?!” you yelled at him.

“What? You look cute~ oh yes, I have a wish to grant, be right back.” He grinned and vanished.

You huffed in irritation and immediately started stripping the cutesie outfit off. “What an *beep*!” you whispered angrily. “I thought he was awful before the wand…”

Part 3

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sheliesshattered · 3 years

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Black Sails fanfic: Blood In The Hourglass

Posting this to Tumblr in its entirety for the first time, in honor of the 300th anniversary of Jack Rackham’s historical death. Also available on AO3 under the same username and title, originally posted in 2018. 7200 words, rated Mature for Anne’s colorful vocabulary. Angst with a happy ending, historical character death, immortality and reincarnation, canonically queer characters and relationships.

Jack and Anne in the years after 1720.

Blood In The Hourglass

"Anne, please talk to me," Jack pleaded through the bars. The manacles on his wrists clanked ominously, and she kept her gaze definitively turned away.

"Ain't got nothing to say," she said, the first she had acknowledged him since the guard left them alone.

"We only have a few minutes left—" He stopped with a strangled sound, words he wouldn't say, but Anne heard them anyway. She tried not to think about it, neither the words nor that sound. "Surely there are a few things worth saying, darling."

"I don't want your goodbyes," Anne growled, tucking her chin lower.

Jack sighed, leaned against the bars of her cell, the closest he could get to her. The closest he'd ever get again. "Surely you can see the sense to this, Anne. Think of Max, if nothing else. At least one of us should go home to her."

She finally shot him a look, gaze hard. "Had you fought like men, you'd need not be hanged like dogs," she spat, loud enough she suspected she'd been heard out in the hallway. Part of her knew it was unfair to lump Jack in with the rest of the crew, knew his behavior had been motivated by something other than a desire to get drunk and fuck off, but in that moment she couldn't bring herself to care. The result was the same. "We were so fucking close, Jack," she went on, quieter, frustrated. "All you had to do was say yes."

"Yes, well, suddenly my indecision has vanished," he said, flippant, then sighed again. "You and Max can still do this, you won't be alone."

"It won't be the same," she grumbled, looking away.

"Promise me you'll follow through on this, Anne," Jack said. "I know it's what you've wanted. Don't let all this derail you," he said, waving a manacled hand to take in their present circumstances.

"The fuck do you care?" she said. "If you'd wanted this too, you'd have said yes, and we'd have done it by now. You didn't, and now here we are. Maybe I will and maybe I won't. Maybe it means fuckall now."

They were silent a moment, then Jack said, "I realize now my hesitation must have looked like I was contemplating leaving you, and I — you must know, I could never do that to you, not willingly, not again."

Anne snorted, because what the fuck do you call this then? But Jack went on without acknowledging it.

"It wasn't you, of course it wasn't you. I was consumed by my own issues, and blind to everything else. Immortality scares the hell out of me, Anne, in ways I can't even articulate. But as it turns out, imminent death scares me even more. The choice is obvious, now, and should have been obvious from the moment you suggested we follow that map." He waited until he'd managed to snag her gaze, then said, "I shouldn't have hesitated, I should have trusted you, and I am more sorry than I can say to be putting you through this, darling. But I think we might have one last chance, if you get out of here. When you get out of here."

She made a vague what the fuck noise at him, encouraging him to go on.

"Do you remember the note, in the lower left-hand of the map?" he said quietly, eyes on hers. He couldn't say too much here, obviously, given then risk of being overheard, and she had to think a moment to come up with what he meant, despite the many long hours she'd spent studying that fucking map.

"Blood in the Fountain?"

He nodded, his eyebrows raised and something that might be hope his dark eyes.

"You think it'd work?" she said. "Even after...?" Words she couldn't fucking say either, when it came to it.

"Worth a shot, if you're going there anyway. Which I hope you will."

She stared at him a moment. "I'd need your blood, dumbass. And we can't be sure I'll get out of here with anything I have on me, so giving it to me now is a shit plan."

"At home— at Max's, my old sea-chest. At the bottom there's a coat, you'll know the one I mean. From the day of the rescue. Should be plenty."

She tried to think past the simmering adrenaline of her anger, tried to get at what he was suggesting. It was far from ideal, but it might actually work. So long as the map wasn't bullshit, and she could survive getting out of here, and she and Max could truly find the fucking Fountain. It could work.

"I'm still fucking pissed at you about this, though," she finally said. "It didn't have to be this way. Even if this works, I'm going to be pissed at you for the next century, at least."

Jack huffed a laugh in response, and Anne let herself look at him, really let herself see him, this last time — or last time for who knew how long, if this worked. Their captors had not been kind to him, but beneath the bruises and scabs, he was the Jack Rackham she knew, the Jack she'd always known, sardonic and calculating and wistful. And loyal to her, here at the end, in ways she knew she didn't deserve. Til they put us in the fucking ground she'd said to him, but she should have known he would never let her follow him down that path, if there was any other option for her.

"I would expect nothing less, my love," he replied, and they could hear their jailor approaching in the hall outside, keys jangling. Jack turned towards her, pressing his hands through the bars as far as the manacles would allow. "Anne, I—"

"I know," she said, taking his hands at last. For the last. "Me too. The only thing that's meant anything in all this bullshit." She held his gaze, hoping he heard the rest. There were more words she couldn't say, words Jack wouldn't make her carry in his absence. "You better not stay gone long," she said instead.

"I'll see you on the other side, darling," he said, as the executioner pried him from her grasp.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Anne said, cell phone pressed between her shoulder and ear as she shuffled down the narrow aisle. "This flight, today? I'm getting really fucking sick of these false positives."

"Those were near misses, not false positives, there is a difference," Max replied, voice tinny over the — well it wasn't even fucking lines anymore was it? — in a way Anne still wasn't used to more than a century after telephones had become common. "He is here, somewhere, we simply have to find him. An aeroplane is, at least, an enclosed space with a limited number of people. It will be harder to miss him this time."

Anne snorted and rolled her eyes, knowing Max knew her well enough to hear the expression over the phone and halfway across the world. "It's not missing him if he ain't here to find."

Max sighed, and Anne could imagine her taking off the glasses she didn't need, rubbing at her eyes that didn't age. "We know he is here, Anne. We know it, the signs are clear, there can be no doubt. I know it seems hard to believe in this moment, but somewhere in your immediate vicinity is Jack Rackham, finally, at last. Try to focus on that. On the old feeling of him, the things we've kept alive in us, that familiarity. You will know him when you see him, I truly believe that. But remember, he will not know you, so you must be the one to find him."

Anne grumbled under her breath but didn't argue. "You meeting me in LA?" she asked.

"No, I am in Paris until the end of the week, at least. But I have arranged for a car to meet you at the airport, and had the apartment prepared for you. And do not forget, the garages are all on automatic sensor now, do not be concerned when you cannot find the button in the car. Text me when you are home, and I will carve out some time for a video call."

"Well here's hoping he's a futurist like you," Anne muttered, still parsing that long string of jargon, "so someone in this relationship will have the first fucking idea what you're talking about."

Max laughed, rich and easy, and said, "There is a link on the desktop of your phone called 'Max'. Press that and write a message to me — think of it as a telegram, dear one. And then I will call you later."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you."

"Je t'aime," Max replied. "Have a good flight."

The phone went dead and Anne shoved it into the pocket of her jacket, continuing the awkward shuffle through the coach section of the plane, an eye out for her row. She fucking hated air travel, and she hated it worse when Max wasn't with her. She wasn't looking forward to pacing the aisle during the flight, but Max was right, this was probably their best shot. If he was really here, if the signs weren't bullshit.

But she'd know him, wouldn't she? If Max was right about any of it, it was that. So either he was here or he wasn't. And in the next few hours, she'd know.

She found her row, slid into seat 22D, stuffed her faded old backpack under the seat in front of her, then took quiet stock of her neighbors. The seats to her right were occupied by a young couple, leaning into each other, clearly newly in love. Irrelevant. Across the aisle to her left, the window seat was empty, and in 22B a gray-haired woman with a neckpillow was already dozing. As Anne watched, a man in a cheap suit put his rollerbag in the bin over their row, then settled into the aisle seat across from hers.

And immediately began to chat her up.

Among the many things she hated about traveling alone, this sort of shit ranked pretty fucking high. It also made her wonder if she ought to start wearing a wedding ring, like Max did. The idea wasn't so odd, anymore, legal most places now, even. About fucking time. Not that it usually carried much weight with this kind of asshole, but it was better than having to listen to them.

She was about to tell the jackass in the suit to shove off when out of nowhere a ratty duffel bag collided with his face with a good amount of force, knocking his head back into the seat at a satisfying angle. Time seemed to slow as Anne looked up, following the line of motion, at the person holding the straps of the bag, tall and lean and smiling in a way that was both polite and totally insincere.

Those fucking sideburns, was Anne's first coherent thought.

"Oh, I am so sorry," the newcomer said, and his voice— it wasn't anything like Anne had expected, and yet exactly right. "I didn't see you there," he went on. "But I do believe you're in my seat. 22C?"

Suit-shit looked annoyed and said, "Pretty sure this seat is A, C is by the window."

"The posted signage would seem to disagree with you," he said with that same smile, gesturing to the placard above the seat that clearly showed A next to the window.

The jackass flushed red and shot a glance at Anne, and she realized she'd been staring. She jerked her gaze away, sneering.

"Yeah, well, my mistake," the jackass mumbled, and then bothered the woman in 22B to let him into his rightful seat.

Anne surreptitiously watched as the newcomer squashed his duffel bag into the overhead compartment, her head spinning. He was tall enough that it wasn't even a reach — easily as tall as he'd been the last time around, with that same slouchy stance. After one last good shove to the duffel, he settled into the aisle seat across from hers, and Anne had to remind herself not to stare, to only steal glances as the rest of the passengers filed on and into their seats.

He looked different, of course, softer somehow, and at least a decade younger than he'd been when he'd died. His hair was a shade or two lighter than she remembered, but so similar to his old style that the effect was the same: a mess on top and too long in back, but somehow he made it look intentional and fashionable, no matter the century.

Other than the broad sweeping sideburns — sculpted from the hair in front of his ears, she noticed on a second glance — he had no facial hair to speak of, which changed the balance of his face in interesting ways. His eyes were as dark as ever, and Anne found herself grateful for it, grateful to recognize those eyes she'd once known so well.

The shape of his jaw was different, his shoulders narrower, but beneath all the differences, he was the Jack Rackham she'd known, the Jack she'd always known, sardonic and calculating and wistful. Max had been right, she'd recognized him instantly, even before he'd spoken. He hadn't spared her a second look though, so maybe that was something else Max was right about, that he didn't remember anything from before. They had some theories on how to jog his memory, but Anne had been half hoping that it wouldn't be necessary. If he didn't remember, there wasn't much she could do until they were on the ground in LA, anyway. Max was the one who knew about this shit.

As the flight crew began the final steps for takeoff, Anne glanced across the aisle again to find him watching her sidelong.

"I hope that wasn't as painful as it looked," he said conspiratorially, leaning an elbow on his armrest and angling himself towards her across the aisle.

She looked over at him, unsure what to make of that comment — and realizing suddenly that she had completely forgotten how to be like this with him, how to be strangers. If she'd ever known, really. "I dunno, I kind of enjoyed watching him get smacked."

Used-to-be-Jack grinned, ducking his head to hide it. "No, I meant the part just before that, actually. Him talking at you. I hope it wasn't too painful for you."

Because of fucking course Jack had done that on purpose. It wasn't quite walking up and slitting the throat of her abusive fuck of a husband in the middle of a tavern, but of course Jack had to make that kind of entrance. Every fucking time.

"Nothing I couldn't have handled," she said, shooting him a look. "But I appreciate the backup."

"Glad to help," he replied easily. "Feels like we ought to stick together— you know, aisle mates and all."

"...Right."

He smiled at her pleasantly, then turned back to his own space as the flight attendants made their way down the narrow aisle.

Anne snuck glances at him throughout the safety announcements, noting all the differences, all the fucking uncanny similarities. Evidently she wouldn't be forced to wander the aisle at all, thank fuck, but she had to find some way to make her staring a little less obvious. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene and scare him off. As soon as they were in the air, she pulled her backpack from under the seat in front of her to fish around for her earphones.

Across the aisle, the person who had been Jack huffed a laugh, and Anne looked up out of habit, out of instinct.

"The, ah, Jolly Roger," he said, gesturing to a threadbare patch on the front of her backpack. Max had bought it for her sometime in the 1970s, she'd forgotten when exactly. Forgotten it was on there, even, when she'd hurriedly packed for this last-minute flight. Still smiling in bemusement, used-to-be-Jack pushed up the unbuttoned cuff of his overshirt to reveal that same flag, inked in black on the inside of his forearm, skull grinning toothily up at Anne. It was more accurate to the original than her patch was.

It's fine, she could still hear him saying, defeat in his voice. His old voice. It's fine. And here it was fucking tattooed on him like he'd been born with it.

Maybe Max was wrong about just how much they could expect Jack to remember on his own.

"Always been a favorite of mine," she answered neutrally, eyeing him.

"You know whose flag it is, then, of course?" he replied.

"Jack Rackham's," she said automatically, and watched his face closely, waiting for the twinkle in his eye, for the moment his expression would crack to let her know he'd been fucking with her all along.

She'd waited three hundred years for that look, and apparently she'd have to wait a little bit longer.

"Ah, and there history would agree with you — while leaving out some rather important and salient facts. While Rackham was undoubtedly using this flag by the time of his death in 1720, he'd been known to use others earlier in his career. His iconic flag was, in fact, a rather late addition to his legend, not recorded at all before 1718 or so. And sightings of it continued for nearly another fifty years after his death, which the official histories never account for."

She did know that, of course. She remembered it — not well, her grief and desperation at the time having driven her nearly further than Max could reach — but of course she knew it better than anyone.

But if Jack was going to fuck with her, she could fuck with him right back. "What're you saying? Rackham came back from the dead?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Undead pirates, purely a Disney invention," he said, flashing her a grin, even while that I'm-fucking-with-you twinkle stubbornly refused to surface. "No, I believe Rackham's partner in crime, Anne Bonny, survived him. There are records for the deaths of most of his crew, but Anne Bonny simply disappears from the historical account. It's my belief that she escaped Jamaica and returned to piracy, under Rackham's flag."

If he did remember, if he'd recognized her as quickly as she'd recognized him, this was a fucking weird-ass roundabout way of telling her so, but also the sort of weird-ass roundabout-ness that just screamed Jack. "Do you think Rackham would've approved of that?" she asked.

"Oh, most assuredly," used-to-be-Jack replied. "The woman was a force of nature, taking on her world the way she did, in that era of history. If Rackham didn't approve, then he wasn't worthy of her in the first place."

"Are you fucking with me?" she asked before she could stop herself, narrowing her gaze at him across the aisle.

He looked over at her, eyebrows raised in surprise, the picture of innocence. "No, not at all. I truly believe that. And besides," he went on, smirking, "I would never joke about pirates, Anne Bonny least of all."

He didn't say her name right, she decided. Said it like it was one long name, the syllables running together, and pronounced Anne all wrong, none of the emphasis he used to use. If he was fucking with her, he was doing a shit job of it. She glanced over and found him watching her a bit sheepishly.

"I'm sorry to prattle on — pirates are a bit of special interest for me, you see — and I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Jack," he said, smiling pleasantly at her across the aisle. Just like fucking that. I'm Jack, with that utterly innocent expression, what the fuck.

Not fucking with her, she decided. Pretty sure at least. Which just made it that much fucking weirder. "What, like Rackham?"

He flushed a little but wore it well. "Well, when your given name can be shortened to the same moniker as that of one of your childhood heroes, why not? Life's too short."

He seemed to be totally unaware of the fucking surrealness of all of this. "...I'm Anne," she said, looking at him sidelong, suddenly missing her hat, after all these years. "And I don't mind the pirate talk. Obviously," she added, with a nod to her backpack that she'd stashed at her feet again.

Jack shot her a look, eyebrows raised. "Ah, I see I'm not the only one with a namesake in this discussion — though that does beg the question, then, how precisely you spell Anne. With or without the E. Anne Bonny, of course, is nearly always spelled with that trailing E, even at a time when the records can barely agree on a spelling for Rackham. Which has always led me to believe that Anne Bonny must have been somewhat protective of her name, particular as to its spelling. Where would you say you fall in this whole E discourse, Aisle Mate Anne?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging. "Well, what do you think?"

He considered her a long moment, eyes narrowed. "You look like an Anne-with-an-E sort to me."

"You can tell that by looking?"

He shrugged. "It takes a certain sort of strength to carry around that extra letter your whole life, defend its existence." He smiled, self-deprecating, and Anne was momentarily caught up in the play of his expressions on this new face, so similar, so fucking different. "Or perhaps I am merely projecting — having recently dropped from Jackie to Jack myself."

That caught her off guard, and she looked over at him again. "Jackie, huh?"

"Short for Jacqueline. I have a... complicated relationship with gender. Jackie was my mother's compromise, and I held on as long as I could, but I just couldn't..." He trailed off into an expression of frustration.

"Jack suits you anyway," she said after a moment, hoping there was still something in him that could read her tones of voice as easily as he once did.

He shot her a grateful look. "I knew you would understand, Anne-with-an-E. We cannot be other than we are."

Jack was surprisingly easy to talk to, once she stopped looking for that I'm-fucking-with-you smirk. They'd talked plenty before, all those years ago, but Anne knew she was different now, that three hundred years with Max had changed her. They couldn't have talked like this back then, not really. Not with her openness and his lightness.

There were things she couldn't tell him yet, not while he still lacked his memories and certainly not in public, but she told him what she could: about Max, and some of the places they'd seen, and the little business in New Orleans that occupied most of Anne's days. They discussed pirate movies and history, Jack's childhood in Philadelphia of all places, how excited he was to see the Pacific ocean for the first time.

All through it, it was clear he didn't remember her or that life before, at least not consciously — his subconscious seemed to have taken up the slack. They'd find a way to jog his memories, once they were on the ground again. Max would know how.

The longest break in their conversation was when the drinks cart paused in between them. By the time their flight landed in LA, they'd exchanged email addresses, but they naturally fell into step beside each other after they disembarked. LAX was, as always, a warren of crowds and construction, but she was in no hurry to lose Jack's company, so she stuck by his side even as the faster moving travelers wove around them.

By the third time they'd stopped to look at the signs directing them toward baggage claim and all, she was having trouble keeping herself from smiling at his obvious annoyance.

"First time in LAX?" she finally asked.

"That obvious?" he said, making a face. "My confusion with the signage only continues to increase," he went on, waving in agitation at the temporary sign in front of them and the construction zone around them. "I take it you're an old hand at navigating this monstrosity?"

She shrugged, still trying not to smile. "More or less."

"I suppose I need to find ground transportation," he sighed, "if you would be so kind as to take pity on me and help me find my way, Aisle Mate Anne?"

"Where are you headed? Maybe I can give you a lift." More time could only be a good thing. Even knowing she had a way to contact him again, she didn't want to let him out of her sight any sooner than she absolutely had to.

"I'm on my way to San Diego, to meet an old friend of mine. There's a train from Union Station. Once I figure out how to get there. I think there's a bus or something."

"Nah, public transport in LA is a fucking nightmare. I have a car waiting for me, at least let me drive you to Union Station. Come on."

She touched the back of his hand in passing and turned to lead the way in the direction of her car pick-up, slipping between the clumps of travelers. After a moment she realized he wasn't keeping pace with her, paused and glanced back at him. He was still standing where she'd left him, staring down at his hand as people parted around him like a rock in the surf, his ratty duffel forgotten at his feet.

"Jack?" she called, taking a few steps back to him when he didn't acknowledge her.

"I have had this dream so many times, and I never understood..." he murmured, more to himself, turning his hand over as he continued to stare.

"The fuck's gotten into you?" she asked.

His gaze snapped up to hers, dark eyes intense and utterly focused on her. "Anne," he said, and something about it brought her up short, her heart hammering.

It was completely different from how he had been saying her name, exactly like how she'd wished he would—

For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him, holding his gaze across the few feet that still separated them.

"...What? Just fucking now? Are you fucking kidding me?"

He shook his head, looking dazed. "Yes, just fucking now. You touched my hand and I—" His eyes sought hers again, so familiar in his changed face. "I wasn't fucking with you, earlier, Anne. I wouldn't— that wouldn't be my first instinct— it isn't my first instinct, to fuck with you in this moment, to draw out this farce any longer than strictly necessary."

And all at once it hit her like a punch to the gut. It was really him. Jack Rackham. Standing in front of her after three hundred fucking years.

"So what is your first instinct, then?" she asked, not quite sure what to do with herself, either.

He took half a step towards her then stopped, hesitant, hands splaying open helplessly at his sides. "Darling."

Anne didn't need more of an invitation than that. She closed the distance between them in a few quick steps and didn't stop until she had barreled into him and wrapped her arms around him. Jack embraced her just as quick, holding her tight and leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

"I cannot believe you did it, I cannot believe you pulled this off, Anne," he whispered fiercely, cheek pressed to her hair. "I can't believe we're standing in the middle of LAX in twenty fucking eighteen and you did it, you marvelous woman, you absolute force of nature."

She huffed a laugh against his chest, and only then realized that she was crying. "I can't fucking believe you have that tattoo."

"You continued to use it," he said, sounding awed, and a bit like he might be crying too. "For fifty years! You kept it alive, made it so notorious it's nearly synonymous with pirate, made sure the world knew it, so I could find it again. Do I disapprove of you continuing to use it? Are you mad? I could not possibly be more proud of you—"

He cut off with a choked sound and Anne clutched him tighter, ignoring the people streaming past them, the boarding calls echoing over the PA system, the news on televisions chattering overhead, the construction on the other side of the flimsy barrier wall. There was nothing else in this moment but the reality of Jack Rackham, alive in her arms, after so fucking long.

"Thank you for finding me, my darling," he said, holding her as tightly as she held him. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Eventually they continued on out of the terminal, Anne leading the way to the private car service Max used.

"I had a car dropped off for me," she told the attendant behind the counter. "Last name's Beaumont, under either Anne or Max."

"Yes, Ms. Beaumont, we were notified that your flight had landed, so your car is being brought up now. It should only be another minute or two, if you'd like to have a seat."

Jack shot her a look as they settled into adjoining chairs in the empty lounge next door. "'Ms. Beaumont,'" he mimicked with a mocking twist to his voice.

"Oh don't you start," Anne said, swatting at him. "Just the latest in a long line."

"Beaumont is an interesting choice, though."

She shrugged. "Over the years I've learned it's best to just let Max have her way in things like this, only put my foot down on shit like not changing my initials. At least these days we can say we're married, instead of trying to claim we're sisters or whatever the fuck."

"I'm sure that's lovely for you," he replied, his tone not quite as light as he'd aimed for, she thought.

"She's missed you too, you know," she said, knocking her foot into his. "We both have."

He looked at her sidelong, almost shy. "I don't wish to intrude, darling. I know how the two of you were before, and given the way you talked about her on the plane, I can only imagine that bond has strengthened over the intervening time."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't have gone to this much trouble to get you back if we didn't want you with us. The both of us."

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the effort," he said, tracing the back of her hand with a fingertip for a moment. "But I would understand if things have changed since 1720."

"It was a long-shot and we pulled it off. That's all that's changed. Shut the fuck up about it and enjoy the moment, will you?"

Jack shook his head, smiling over at her again. "I still can't believe this actually worked, and yet here we are."

"I can't believe you made me wait that fucking long."

"Came as quick as I could, darling. Just got a little sidetracked along the way. Being dead and all."

"Three hundred fucking years, Jack!"

"Ah, no, two hundred and ninety-eight, thank you very much. I had planned to celebrate that anniversary in style, Anne. You've borne witness to the depths of my obsession with my previous life already," he went on, gesturing at the tattoo on his arm. "We'd even talked about going to Jamaica for the anniversary, Chaz and I—" He cut himself off suddenly, eyes gone wide. "Oh my god, Charles. We have to get to San Diego."

"...For your school friend?" Anne asked, trying to keep up with his sudden shift.

"No. Well, yes — my closest friend in the world, as it turns out — but I am suddenly quite certain that Chaz is Charles."

"Vane, you mean? What the fuck?"

"It has to be. I haven't the faintest fucking clue how, but it has to be."

"Vane's the old friend you flew out here to visit? What the fuck, how long have you known him?"

"My entire life. Inseparable since childhood — we were born in the same hospital two days apart, for Christ's sake. Whatever brought me back seems to have brought Charles along for the ride."

Anne shook her head, stunned. "Guess we're going to San Diego, then."

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but one of the overly-cheery staff members came to get them then, leading the way down a short hallway to an elevator. When the doors opened on the private garage below, Anne was relieved to find that it was the Maserati waiting for them and not one of Max's new Tesla toys. She still hadn't quite wrapped her head around the fuel needs of those, and she was glad Max had remembered she'd said so.

She tipped the valet and slid into the driver's seat as Jack settled into the passenger's side.

"This is your car?" he demanded once the doors were closed behind them.

"Fuck no, this is Max's car. Like I'd drive anything I can't wrench myself," she snorted as she secured her seatbelt and put the car into drive. "It just ain't worth keeping a vehicle out here, I'm in LA so rarely. Easier just to use one of Max's."

Jack blinked at her in surprise. "One of Max's?"

She shrugged. "I've given up trying to keep track. The sun never sets on the Maximillianne Empire and all that."

"Hang on, M.E. is Max? What am I saying, of course she is, you are, with a name like that, with an empire like that. But there is clearly some history I'm missing there."

She focused on merging with traffic before responding to him, too busy swearing at LA drivers under her breath. "'Course there is. Fucking three hundred years, Jack! But broad strokes, there ain't much to tell. You already know I stayed on the Account through... guess it must have been '68 or so. By that point everyone who'd known about Flint's treasure was dead, so we went back for it. Took us awhile to find all the caches — Ben Gunn was stuck on Skeleton Island for years, kept finding bits of the treasure and re-hiding it, went completely off his fucking rocker — but we had time. More time than we knew what to do with, really. When we had all the treasure we could find, we sailed for the mainland, for what's the States now, bought some land. Max did what she does, started building a new empire. Eventually bought Skeleton Island and the cays around it outright, just in case we'd missed any of the treasure. But you know how Max is, always on to the newest thing, always investing the profits into some new venture. Sorta ballooned over the years."

Jack was silent a long moment, and Anne glanced over to find him watching her, a calculating grin on his face. "So you and Max were the final recipients of Flint's treasure? Simply sailed off into the sunset with it? Amazing. Fucking brilliant. If the history books had any idea...!"

Anne snorted in amusement. "She'd have been here, if she could have. She's in Paris on business, we got word about your flight so late there wasn't time."

"Ah, yes, well, it was fairly last-minute travel on my part as well. Though how you knew I would be on that flight is a mystery to me, much less in that row!"

"You'll have to ask Max about the signs, I have no fucking clue how those work, they just do. It's how we knew you were back in the first place. But I don't think she knew where you'd be sitting, kept telling me I'd have to walk the aisle looking for you."

"Glad to have spared you that at least. I'm still a little surprised you recognized me so easily, given everything that's changed."

She looked at him sidelong before turning her gaze back to the 405 freeway.

"You have to admit this is all a bit different," Jack went on, gesturing at himself. "Not sure I would even recognize myself on the street."

"Your hair's the same, dumbass."

Jack shot her a confused look, then reached for the visor to flip open the mirror there and examine his reflection, one hand in his hair. Messy on top, too long in back, those fucking sideburns.

"Ah. Well, clearly bits of me have been slipping through for some time now. But no, this is actually— I shaved my head, five months back? Six? I needed a change, desperately. I haven't had the faintest fucking idea what to do with it as it's grown back in, besides just let it be. Somehow that seems to have formed... this."

"Now that is difficult to picture," Anne admitted.

"It was a rash decision, but I don't regret it. It's all tied up in this whole... fucking Jacqueline thing. That was a bit of a tangled knot to unravel even before I had the rest of my memories bouncing around my head. And now, I don't know what the fuck to think."

Into the silence that followed, Anne said, "You're you. That's all I care about."

He sighed and it sounded a little ragged. "Thank you, darling. I know I have done absolutely nothing in this life or the last to deserve a day like this with you, but I am ever so grateful for it."

"The fuck you talking about, 'a day like this.' Three hundred fucking years, Jack! If you think I'm letting you out of my sight even once in the next century, you're fucking wrong. You're stuck with me, like it or not."

Jack smiled, ducking his head to hide it. "As I said, nothing in this life or the last to deserve this. But you won't hear a complaint out of me."

"Good. Because you're outvoted anyway."

They continued south at a fair clip, conversation flowing between them even easier than it had on the plane, now that they didn't have to hold back. But when her phone began to buzz in her pocket, Anne realized what she'd forgotten to do. "Ah, shit," she said, keeping one hand on the wheel and digging the phone out of her pocket with the other. "Answer that, would you?" she added as she all but tossed the telephone at Jack.

He caught it neatly and answered it before its next ring. "Hel-lo?" he asked in greeting, clearly unsure what to expect. Anne cast a quick glance at him before turning her gaze back to the freeway, and saw his face break into a wide grin. "Max," he said, and Anne couldn't help smiling a little as well at the warmth in his tone. "Yes she did," Jack replied to something Max had asked. "We were seated across from each other, actually... Ah yes, I did wonder if that was your influence... No, no, we're— somewhere in Orange County anyway, I haven't a clue. Headed vaguely south-ish."

"Put her on—" Anne stopped when she realized she didn't have the word, waving one hand at the phone pressed to Jack's ear. "Make her voice loud enough so I can hear."

"Speakerphone, darling," he supplied, shooting her a grin, then did as she asked. "Sorry Max, say that again?"

"You are driving south...?" Max's voice came through the little brick of technology in Jack's hand.

It finally hit Anne, in that moment, driving Max's ridiculous car down the broad freeway, the Pacific sparkling out the passenger's side window and the voices of the two people she loved best in the world mingling in the little cabin, that they'd done it. Really, truly, fucking done it.

All they had was an address and a slip number, but Jack knew how to make his phone tell them the best route there, and before long they were winding through San Diego, nearing the waterfront. Eventually they had to park and go the rest on foot, and Jack led the way down the jetty with a shit-ton of confidence for someone who had never been west of the fucking Mississippi before.

The sailboat wasn't much to look at, but clearly well loved, maintained in a way a lot of the day-trip sailors hardly bothered with anymore, in Anne's extensive experience. As they neared they could see a man sitting on the deck, his back to them as he worked on a rope splice. Jack increased his pace, clearly recognizing him, and Anne took a moment to catalog this new Vane. His skin was dark beneath a sun-bronzed tan, and he wore a thick bundle of neatly locked dreads gathered at the nape of his neck, still as broad-shouldered as ever. And like Jack, despite the changes, there was some undefinable thing that was distinctly Vane.

"Chaz!" Jack called when they were still a few yards away, waving when the man on the boat looked up.

"Jack!" he said cheerfully, standing and turning towards them as they approached. "What the fuck, I wasn't expecting you for a few hours yet. I would have met you at the train station if you'd texted me." He stooped and produced a sturdy-looking board and laid it across the gap between the jetty and the boat.

"Yes, well, something came up," Jack said as he came aboard. "Charles, I'd like you to meet—"

"Anne Bonny," used-to-be-Vane said with a grin, startling her. "About fucking time." He held out a hand as she stepped on board, and after a moment she shook it. His palm was calloused against hers, hinting at years of sailing.

"Charles," she said with a little nod, not quite sure how to react.

Vane blinked a few times and uttered a little huh before Jack's agitation drew both their gazes.

"You knew?" he asked, sounding surprised and affronted.

"First night out at sea alone, I knew. Nice to have a few more of the details back, though," he said, nodding at Anne with a grin as she blinked back at him silently.

"And when exactly were you planning on telling me this?" Jack demanded.

Vane shrugged. "Why do you think I've been pushing for you to come out here? Seemed like a face to face sort of conversation. Thought it was just you and me though, glad to see you two ran into each other somewhere along the way."

Must have been that damned coat, she realized. Vane had been with them the day of the rescue, must have bled on it too.

"Anne, your what the fuck face hasn't changed a bit," he added with amusement. "Hang on, you look exactly the same, how's that fucking possible? When Jack and I—" He waved vaguely at he and Jack, how different they each looked.

Anne shot Jack a look and he grinned, turning to Vane.

"Now that, my friend, is a very interesting story," Jack said, throwing an arm around Charles and pulling him towards the boat's little galley, "worthy of your best booze."

Anne smirked and followed after, letting the sound of Jack's voice lead her onward.

"...Tell me Charles, what do you know of the Fountain of Youth?"

#q #Blood In The Hourglass #Black Sails #Black Sails fanfic #Jack Rackham #Anne Bonny #Jack and Anne #my writing #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!

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melancholydreadfuldream · 4 years

Text

Dreamer File 01

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x reader

Warning: angst

More warning: English is not my native language and I suck at it but I wanted to write for DW so here it is. My name is (YN) (LN) and I'm a traveler in time and space. I met the Doctor on his tenth incarnation. He picked me up alongside Rose. I have been with him for so long. He is a wonderful man so of course I ended up catching feeling for him. But he only have eyes for Rose.

Rose has the advantage because she has been with him the longer and I have to admit that she is a wonderful person but she is possessive of the Doctor. I'm the third wheel in this. They laughed and joked around and I didn't feel included. At least, the Doctor didn't kick me out because I do love to travel with them.

When Rose is gone trapped in the other world, his love for Rose is so great he even burn out a sun just to say goodbye. How can I ever compete with her? No chance.

The Doctor wanted to drop me home despite my protest. He said if I stay with him, I will ended up like Rose.

Before he could though, Donna appeared on board of the Tardis and we ended up having to sort her out.

He invited Donna to come with us but she refused. I felt hurt that the Doctor invited her when he said he want to drop me off. Did he got tired of me? That is so unfair.

Thankfully the Doctor no longer insisted that I go home. We eventually met Martha and she became a fellow traveler.

I could tell that Martha is smitten with the Doctor. I warned her that the Doctor is still hung up on Rose.

The Doctor didn't treat me and Martha very well. We endured it but one day I just snapped.

"I know you are still hurting over Rose but Martha and I deserve better than your treatment so far. Doctor, we love traveling with you and I know we can't replace Rose. She has a special position in your hearts. But I would appreciate it if you stop comparing us with her."

The Doctor is silent and I thought he will be mad at me. But he told me he didn't mean to make us feel like that and promise to do better.

And then the Family of Blood happened. Martha and I ended up having to care for a human Doctor. We worked as servants at the military school where John Smith will be a teacher.

He fell in love with Nurse Redfern. I can't help feeling bitter about it. Why am I never the one? I could drive myself crazy thinking about it so I don't. I pushed my feeling down. I am lucky that Martha is with me. I don't think I could bear it alone.

When John Smith turned back as the Doctor, I am glad to leave that time period behind.

I think my relationship with the Doctor improve a little during the time we got marooned on the year 1960. We have a moment together under a starry sky on top of a building after I finished my work. I also bonded some more with Martha since we both have to work hard to support the Doctor.

Then things with Jack and the Master happened. It was the worst time of my life. My father was taken on board the Valiant by the Master as hostage.

For some reason, the Doctor send Martha off to do whatever he told her to do. He didn't ask me to go with her and so I stayed and wonder if he think so little of me that I can't do whatever it was he tasked Martha to do. Maybe I really am useless.

During my time aboard the Valiant, between the mental and physical abuse from the Master, my father got a heart attack and died. I cried so hard that day. I didn't even get to bury his body. The Master ordered the soldiers to throw his body off the ship. I wanted to kill him but Martha's family stopped me before I did a stupid thing.

I cried and begged the Doctor to fix it. I knew that was selfish of me to ask that of the helpless Doctor but I was out of my mind with grief.

Then Martha came back and the paradox machine got destroyed. The Doctor returned to his former self and able to neutralize the Master.

Everything got a reset. The world had forgotten about what happened. The year that never was. Except for the lot on board of the Valiant. I didn't get my father back. I hated the Master with my whole life. I picked up the gun, wanting to kill him but the Doctor stopped me.

The Master is dead, shot by his dutiful wife. I only felt bad for the Doctor for losing the only other Time Lord but I'm also relieved because if he is alive and the Doctor take him on board of the Tardis, I don't think I could cope.

Martha decided to leave us. I couldn't leave the Doctor. The man with the sad eyes, how could I? Also it was easy because I no longer have any family now my father is gone.

I don't even want to sort my life anymore. I want to stay with the Doctor for as long as I could. Martha warned how unhealthy my choice was.

"Don't waste your life for someone who didn't appreciates you..." She said. "But maybe...you still have hope with him. I saw how he look at you. But be careful, don't let yourself be second best for someone, not even him."

But the thing is I will always be second best compare to Rose. And yet I can't bring myself to leave him. Not brave enough, not strong enough.

After she left, it was only the Doctor and I. We didn't talk much except during adventures. There were times when I caught him looking at me but he never said a word.

When Donna joined us, I felt so grateful because she made the mood more lively.

Donna knew of my feeling for the Doctor and often pushed me to be with the Doctor even after I told her that he still in love with Rose.

Of course, I had to experience almost dying of poison before I decided to confess to him.

"I love you, Doctor. I know you didn't feel the same and that's all right." I lied. "But I just want you to know how much you are loved and that this is not your fault. I choose this. I choose you."

But then, he managed to cure me and thing become awkward between us. Donna who heard my confession, pushed me to have a talk with him.

"No way. Just pretend that it didn't happen. He doesn't feel the same. I don't want to be a nuisance. What if he drop me home and never come back because of this?" I ranted at Donna.

I don't know what Donna said to him but the Doctor ended up cornering me for a talk. Thankfully, he didn't kick me out as I feared. He made sure I knew that he care for me. He didn't exactly rejected me and he is being confusing when he kissed me in the forehead.

Donna pushed the both of us to have a date night together and to my surprise, he didn't turn away the idea. Of course, having a sort of date night with tour on Midnight, didn't end well when the Doctor almost killed by the passengers and I'm helpless to stop it.

Then Rose come back. I missed her but I resented her for coming back. The Doctor forgot about me and it's all about her.

Donna and Jack comforted me. Jack knew of my feeling for the Doctor during the year that never was. He sympathized with my situation because he also knew that the Doctor is all about Rose.

Martha is right, I should have left. But I can't.

The Daleks forced the Tardis into their ship and then Donna got trapped on the Tardis, presumed to be dead.

Rose took the Doctor's hand to comfort her and once again I was left behind. My heart hurts.

Next thing I knew there are two Doctor. A metacrisis,the Doctor said.

After we saved the world, Martha approached me and she give me a hug. I hugged her back.

"Remember what I said." She said before she said goodbye to the Doctor and left the Tardis.

I sat in the corner alone watching the others interact with each other. There were only Donna, Rose, Jackie and the metacrisis doctor left. The Doctor was outside saying goodbye to Martha, Jack and Mickey.

"Are you okay?"

I jumped in surprise when I saw the metacrisis doctor stand before me.

"I'm okay." I forced a smile.

"Why are you sitting alone?"

"I hates goodbye."

"Me too."

I wonder if I should ask him about his feeling for me. He still technically is the Doctor. But I'm a coward, too afraid of the answer.

The Doctor entered the Tardis and proclaimed their next destination, Bad Wolf Bay.

I was confused why he did that. Rose is staying, isn't she?

I observed the conversation between the Doctor, Rose and the metacrisis from the Tardis doorway.

I heard Rose proclaimed loudly about what she said last and what the Doctor intended to say during their last meeting.

And then I saw Rose kissing the metacrisis.

The Doctor and Donna got inside the Tardis and we left them behind.

"Doctor..." I called out. I stopped, unsure if I should mention Rose again. Will it really be okay to leave Rose again? Didn't he love her so much?

Donna pulled me aside and told me about how Rose and metacrisis will get to stay and grow old together.

I felt like a dose of cold water being poured over my head. Of course, the Doctor is immortal and I am not. How could we ever work out? How could he stand to have me? I will die someday and he will move on from me. He gave Rose the greatest gift he could ever give. But where that left me?

I didn't get the chance to break down because of what happened next to Donna.

The Doctor erased her memory of us and dropped her home.

We are alone again, only the two of us again.

"I'm not going anywhere." I blurted suddenly which surprise the Doctor and the smile he gave me next made me pushes down all my insecurities aside temporarily.

I hugged him tight and he hugged me back.

I was scared and worried about the future but I keep being in denial about it and continue to run away with the Doctor.

The Doctor has become somewhat affectionate with me. He didn't say he love me but he would look at me with that warm grin that I loved. Almost look like the grin he shared when he was with Rose. Almost. It did make me hoping that he finally see me.

I think the Doctor is sad but he wouldn't tell me why. He seemed to be running from something. It wasn't until later that I learned about how he is going to die and regenerate into a new man.

The Master is alive and took over the world in creepy way. Every last human on Earth turned into his clone.

Of course, the Doctor saved the day. But at a cost, to save Donna's grandfather, he sacrificed himself and now he is dying.

He went to his farewell tour while I remained at the Tardis.

When he returned on board, I knew he is about to drop me off for my own safety.

"I'm not going anywhere. Don't you dare say goodbye to me or I will hate you forever!" I yelled stubbornly.

He sighed at my stubbornness. "You always stay with me even after I hurt you. Why?"

"You know why."

He nodded with a sad smile. "It's time..." He whispered as he started to glow.

I watched in tears. "Doctor..."

"I don't want to go..." He whispered.

And then he changed into a new man right before my eyes.

I didn't get a look at him because the Tardis is crashing.

I woke up on the floor near the swimming pool. There was blood on my face. I think I got bumped my head pretty hard.

There was a strange man in front of me, fussing over me.

"Let me take a look at you. Oooh, you look like you might have concussion. That’s no good."

"Doc...tor?"

He smiled at me. "Hello again."

#tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x oc #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfiction #shiefenwrites

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lo-mindpalace · 4 years

Text

22 – “I cursed the gloom that set upon us, But I know that I love you so…”

Warning: Characters deaths and description of a “possibility” to the end of season 15. If you’re sensitive to the end of the show, please be careful. I made myself cry while writing it so I don’t want to trigger anyone. (I’m a sensitive crybaby tho)

(DEAN’S POV)

“Sammy! Hold on. Come on, you can do it.”

I couldn’t hide the distress in my voice anymore. Sammy was in a bad shape, exhausted and a lot of wounds on his body. I was exhausted too, and bloody as Hell. But my brother’s state was more important than my broken carcass. Sam was alive but so tired, he didn’t have any strength left. I clicked my tongue on my teeth and looked around me. The red sky and the stormy clouds made the landscapes very gloomy. The thunder was growling. Heaven was falling and the destruction of Hell was making the ground tremble. Monsters, Angels, Demons, Humans, everyone was either fighting with madness or hiding in order to survive. This was the end. Our world was ending as Chuck decided it so. We tried to fight back. God is hurt and Amara too but they ran away, Jack and Billie chasing them. We tried to follow them but we had to protect our people. It was awful. We lost so many people. Charlie and Bobby from the Apocalyptical world – losing them again. Garth. Donna. Claire. Kaia. Patience. Well… Only Jody and Alex were still alive, if we can call being seriously injured and broken on the inside being “alive”. Everyone fought bravely but almost everyone died, and now my little brother was exhausted and I couldn’t let him die too.

I saw Baby on a corner, still alive. I nodded to myself and looked at Sam, semi-conscious.

“Okay, Sammy. Imma carry you to the Impala. I will take care of you, little brother. Hold on.”

I didn’t expect an answer so I immediately carried my giant and heavy brother. Some of my wounds opened again with the effort and it hurt like Hell but I had to keep going. And that’s what I did. I managed to put Sam in the car, in the passenger seat. I entered the car too and started it. I drove until we were in Lawrence, Kansas, where all had begun. The bunker was gone so he didn’t have a home anymore. But we had Baby. I stopped the car under a shelter made of metal sheets. Jody was here with Alex. The young woman was trying to heal her adoptive mother. When they saw Sam, their faces crumpled even more. There was no hope in their eyes anymore, and to be honest, I was no longer sure if I still had an ounce of hope left in me either. I sighed and put Sam on a kind of hospital bed we brought here. I bandaged my brother as much as I could and let him rest. I went out of the shelter and looked around me, the city of Lawrence or what was left of it. Most of the houses were destroyed. It was silent like in a graveyard.

Suddenly, I heard a car passing by us. I turned my head and saw Cas. My face crumpled, all my worry faded as I saw him still being alive. He just had the time to get out of the car that I rushed into his arms, gripping him like I was gripping to life. He was still alive.

“Son of a bitch, you scared me to death.” I said in an accusatory tone.

“I’m sorry, Dean… I’m here…”

I immediately withdrew. I didn’t like the way he was speaking. I looked at the angel with a frowny face. He was more tired than ever. He sighed and looked at me with a sad face.

“I may have found a way to help Jack and Billie. But I don’t know how much it will cost me.”

“No. Don’t say something like this whereas I only found you again.” I said, raising my voice.

“Dean, if there is any chance to save this world and save you and what is left of our family, I will take this opportunity, no matter what.”

“No matter what? You mean, ‘no matter if you have to die’?!”

I began to feel tears of anger and distress. No. He couldn’t do this to me. Castiel sighed again.

“Maybe I won’t die… Maybe I will just… give up on my grace.”

It was like my world was collapsing around me – well it was really collapsing though. Cas was ready to sacrifice himself, again. It was unfair. So unfair. I discovered my feelings toward him not so long ago and we… We have been dating since then and… No. I couldn’t accept that. Not anymore. I couldn’t let him go with Jack while I’m standing here with my poor brother. I had to do something too. I had to. I was unable to pronounce a damn word at the moment, everything was stuck in my throat. I was always bad with words anyway. But I really needed to tell Cas everything, but I couldn’t, as usual.

Castiel cupped my face with one hand and stroked my cheek with his thumb. He gave me a faint smile, his beautiful and deep blue eyes immersing themselves into my green ones.

“I cursed the gloom that set upon us, But I know that I love you so…”

“So what…? You are ready to sacrifice yourself again?” I said, almost whispering.

I congratulated myself for having been able to say something. But I immediately focused on Castiel again, my speedy heartbeat hitting my chest.

“If it’s for saving you and the others, then yes. If I can only sacrifice my grace, then it’s better.”

“But Cas… Your grace…”

“It would be like this Elf woman who sacrificed her immortality for the man she loves, in the Lord of the Rings. You showed me those movies.”

I shook my head, making a humorless chuckle. A part of me was proud that Castiel had this freaking reference but this conversation and the price behind it were too serious. I gripped Castiel’s trenchcoat and squeezed it.

“Cas, we are not in a movie, this is real…” I said almost with a strangled voice.

Castiel erased my tears with his thumb and rested his forehead against mine. We both closed our eyes, our breaths mixing together. We remained silent for long minutes until I felt my angel kissing my forehead.

“I have to try.” He said. “I need to try and give Jack more power so he can have a chance to survive. I’ve been human before, so, I can be human again. If it means to survive and save this world, I’ll accept my fate.”

While speaking, Castiel put a little paper with something written on it in my hand. I frowned and looked at Cas with a confused face.

“Take Jody, Alex and your brother to the Impala and go to this address. It’s not that far. Maybe one-hour-drive from here. I can’t tell you everything because I don’t even know myself, but go there. We will meet each other again in this place, I promise.”

“Promise me I will find you there alive.” I said nervously.

Castiel lowered his head. I sighed and bit my lips in order not to sob. Of course he couldn’t be sure of that. It was stupid from me to ask this from him. I swallowed hard and nodded, whispering a soft “okay”. My angel was about to say something but I couldn’t hear more of it. So, I cupped his angelic face and crashed my lips into his, kissing him as if it was the last time – and maybe it was. Castiel returned it and we kissed each other for long seconds, even minutes, simply enjoying this moment, having his body against mine, tasting his soft lips. I hated chick flick moments but right now, I didn’t fucking care if I looked like a wife saying goodbye to his husband whose going to war. I didn’t want a farewell and yet, maybe it was. We withdrew our lips just in order to breathe and sniff, tears rolling down our cheeks.

“I love you so much…” I said in a sobbing whisper.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. I will always love you.”

“Fuck, I wish our story would have begun way sooner than six fucking months.” I managed to say, my lips shaking too much.

“Our story began the day I raised you from perdition.” Castiel said before kissing me again.

I sobbed against my angel’s lips. He tried to soothe me one last time before withdrawing completely. He took my hand and stroked it.

“See you there, Dean…”

“See ya, Cas…”

I looked at my guardian angel, my savior, my lover, going into his car, looking at me one last time before starting the car and driving away from me. I guessed my heart went with him because at the moment I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I stayed there, alone, for a few seconds before passing a tired hand over my face, wiping my tears away. I looked behind me and saw that Sammy was looking at me too. Shit, he saw it. He saw me, all weak and hopeless, and broken. I took a deep breath and walked toward him. Now, I had to follow the plan. To go to the place Cas told me to. I needed to be strong for my little brother. For Jody and Alex. For Jack. For Cas. I needed to keep fighting. Until the end. No matter what. Because that’s what we always did.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hey, hope you liked it... Sorry for the sad OS... I tried to make an open ending at least...

#suptober20 #supernatural #day22 #I cursed the gloom that set upon us But I know that I love you so…#dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #angst #sad ending #open ending

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