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poetryofyouth · 3 years

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I did it, I finally quit psychiatry

(I wrote this for r/antipsychiatry, but I thought I might as well post it here too. don't read if you're easily triggered)

It's been a long journey through hell, but I've had enough. I'm not taking any more shit from incompetent, clueless doctors who think they know me better than I do myself. Who do not listen to me when I beg them to change the medication and instead just give me more of the stuff that is making me worse. I'll finally be free.

I doubt anyone cares, but I'll just tell you my story from the beginning. This is going to be a very long story. Basically, I became depressed at 14 or 15, I'm a 22 year old woman now. The reason was mainly that I couldn't handle the pressure from school. I am a very ambitious, perfectionist but also extremely lazy person. I was constantly beating myself up for not achieving what I wanted to achieve but also unable to fix my behavior. I did also have some slight, not even that serious trauma from a emotionally neglectful childhood and my parents telling me I was a failure every time I would get a grade that wasn't an A. At some point it all became too much and I started self-harming. Then I got worse and worse, self harming occasionally but severely, until I finally attempted suicide at 17.

I was locked into a youth psychiatry institution against my. will. I had my rights, my freedom taken away and was forced to take heavy medications. The very first evening I asked the psychiatrist at the hospital about the side effects of the medications, but he refused to tell me anything and instead just said I should trust his professional judgement. Unfortunately I was too tired and unwell to keep asking so I just accepted not knowing what would happen to me.

They gave me very high doses of Seroquel (Quetiapine), SSRIs and other stuff that I don't even know because they didn't even tell me the names of what they made me take. I just know the names of the medications I was supposed to continue to take after the hospital stay because they were in the papers they gave me. Then after a few days I begged the doctor to take me off the meds because I was so tired I could barely move. I had never felt worse in my life. she refused and instead upped my dose further.

I got worse and worse until I managed to get access to a razor blade I injured myself with on purpose. When my roommate told the nurses what I had done, I was forcefully, against my will restrained onto a bed. Yes, they actually tied me to a bed. And then pushed the bed into a small room where I was alone, and tied to the bed, unable to move. Of course I had a severe panic attack. The room had video surveillance, but it took them quite some time to notice that I was having a panic attack. they finally came and gave me something to breathe into and I calmed down more or less, but they didn't untie me. I later had to pee, and they didn't even untie me for that. I had to pee into a bedpan while tied to the bed, with a nurse watching me. it was incredibly humiliating. I was not untied the entire night. I was restrained until the next morning. When they finally untied me, I had quite seriously injured myself from fighting against the restraints. I had basically torn the skin off my ankles, the scars are faded now but they were visible for many years. It was quite painful. I do consider this incident of being restrained against my will psychiatric abuse, especially because I was restrained for so long. In total probably 10 hours, maybe even more.

Then the hospital didn't really know what to do with myself. I had of course lost any trust I had into the nurses and doctors and shut myself off from them. So they transferred me to a different institution, a more high-security one. Of course I wasn't asked if that was okay, I had to comply. I had began to form relationships with some of the girls, so being taken away from the small support system I had was very stresssful, especially considering how fragile I was at that time.

The other institution wasn't much different, but it was good for me to be taken away from the people who had abused me. I got a tiny bit better. I started to trust the nurses there a little bit. I got along with the other patients and over all liked the hospital better for maby reasons. And then they noticed I was a little better. And then they decided I was well enough to go back to the other hospital. Of course I wasn't asked this time either. But I had made more progress there in two weeks than in the other hospital in a month. I had again started building a little support system. But worst of all, I was forced to go back to the place where I had been abused, and at the time I was still very affected by the experience. I felt incredibly powerless and betrayed, but I didn't have a choice.

Then back at the first hospital I decided I would get better, for no other reason than to finally be able to leave that horrible place.

Then two things were getting severly uncomfortable. I was weighed every week and started noticing significant weight gain. At the same time, I was hungry all the time. painfully hungry, ravenous, even. I basically felt like I was starving all the time but still put on weight. Of course that was because of the high doses of Seroquel, but no one told me. I told nurses, doctors and therapists about the hunger and weight gain, but they simply didn't tell me that was a side effect, they told me an increased appetite was a sign i was getting better. I legit thought I was losing my mind.I have struggled with weight all my life and putting weight on like that made me feel horrible.

Then the doctor decided I was well enough to start taking up school work again. I begged him not to force me to, I told them the pressure of school was the reason I was sick in the first place. Of course no one listened to me. I was forced to do school work even if I knew it wasn't good for me. they didn't care.

Then, after three months of hell, I was finally released. And only because it was Christmas, and my parents refused to leave me there over Christmas. I got a therapist and medication for home.

Then after the Christmas holidays I, against my will, started going to school again. And after about two weeks, my new therapist told me that I had to choose between dropping out of school or going back to the hospital, because school was already making me severely suicidal again. And that was one of the few good things a mental health professional had said to me. I dropped out of school and actually started getting better for real. I sometimes forgot to take my medication, and every time I did, I instanty felt better. I suddenly didn't feel like a tired zombie anymore, I actually had emotions, I felt... alive. So I begged my psychiatrist to let me stop taking medications, and a few months after being released from the hospital, I was free of them.

And everything was great. I got a job, then I volunteered in New Zealand, then, when I was in a more stable place than at 17, I took up school again and graduated with flying colors. I was doing incredibly well.

And then I started university. The first semester went okay, but my mental health quickly started deteriorating. It was the academic pressure again. That's simply something I cannot handle. Soon I started self harming again, and it became more frequent than ever before. I also got into a bad, one might even say toxic, relationship. My girlfriend had issues on her own, but her behavior towards me was often extremely triggering and I very frequently self harmed because of something to do with our relationship. I do not want to blame her for my behavior, but she often made feel worthless, like I was not good enough for her. She would frequently cancel our dates at the last minute, and when she didn't, she would be half an hour late, and when we were together, she didn't make me feel very appreciated either. I was very much in love with her and always blamed myself for everything she did. She once even talked me into having sex with her, when I had said no repeatedly. She did not accept no for an answer and kept pushing until I slept with her to make her shut up. I felt like I didn't have a choice. She didn't force me to, but she simply did not accept my "no". Anyways, it was not her who took the knife to my skin, but she was a big factor in why I did it. I never told her she was a reason for my severe self harm, I didn't want her to feel bad. I didn't hide my wounds fro. her, I mean we did see each other naked and I always had at least four or five big bandages. We just kinda... ignored that.

So then I was getting desperate and decided to get professional help once again. I went to a free psychiatrist from the student councellors and she prescribed me Seroquel once again. I told her I didn't want to take it because it had made me gain a lot of weight and made me very tired. She laughed in my face and told me Seroquel doesn't do that. I don't know if she was just incompetent or lied to me on purpose, because these side effects are experienced by pretty much every single person who takes Seroquel, they are listed in the information leaflet, and I know many people who have taken this medication, all of them had them. During the appointment, she did not even ask me how I was feeling. She prescribed me 200 mg of Seroquel XR. Now, the recommended starting dosage is 50 mg. She prescribed me a starting dosage of four times the recommended amount. Unfortunately, I did not know that back then, I didn't expect a doctor to be that negligent. I took the first 200 mg pill that very evening before going to listen to a debate. Seroquel XR takes a while to kick in, but oh boy did it kick in. I didn't even notice the tiredness that much because I was having severe heart palpitations. My vision was going from normal to black and to normal again all the time. I was dizzy and desoriented and felt my heart was about to jump out of my chest, and sometimes it stopped beating for several seconds. I legit thought I might die in the audience of a debate on ethical farming.

Of course I didn't take the pills the next day and started looking for another psychiatrist. I got an appointment relatively quickly at a private one, it was relatively hopeless to get an appointment with one my insurance would pay, but I thought if she could help me, money wouldn't matter. She prescribed me some stuff that didn't do much harm but also didn't do much good. basically, i was a little tired but that was it. i got a therapist.

About 9 months passed, I had several psychiatrist appointments where I told her the meds didn't do much good, but she never really changed anything. She also insisted that I would get tested for Borderline personality disorder and the psychologist she told me to go to diagnosed me with it. My therapist at the time agreed with me that there was no way in hell that I have BPD, but she also said that when psychiatrists see an adult who self harms, BPD is the only thing that can explain that for them.

Then fall came and a new uni semester started. I had been alright over summer, I had broken up with my girlfriend, but of course with the start of the semester, everything came crashing down.

I lasted a month in university until i impulsively took the whole pack of Seroquel I still had laying around and went to the hospital telling them i was suicidal and also told them what i had done.

Now, I have to say that the nurses in this hospital were absolute angels. They treated my with respect, I almost felt mothered. I was given a lot of activated charcoal and basically had a good night in the hospital. I also got stitches for my freshest self harm injuries, but I had several ones that were too old to be treated that way.

The next morning I was transferred. Can you guess where to? The mental hospital i had been to as a teen. Again, I didn't have a choice.

But overall, the experience at the emergency ward was not as horrible as the first time. I was an adult now and actually treated like a human person. it says a lot about my first experience that I was very surprised by that.

I felt better rather quickly, mostly because the stress factory university was eliminated. The doctor there again insisted that I had BPD even when I said that was ridiculous. They evalued me again and the psychologist came to the conclusion that I had a borderline accentuation, basically borderline borderline.

The emergency ward doctor talked me into treatment at the psychotherapy ward, so I did that for 8 weeks. it was okay, again I was treated way better than as a teen. I was allowed to have an opinion about the medication, I was even allowed to read the little side effect pamphlets. But overall it didn't really do it, I self harmed less but I still self harmed.

During that stay I decided to drop out of university and start an apprenticeship as a baker. I found a company to work for, I loved work, then Corona happened. The company had to shut down. They laid me off after I had only worked there for three weeks. Basically I fell into a hole again, became a depressive husk again.

Then some time passes and a new therapist asked me why I didn't want to go to university anymore, she basically thought i was too intelligent not to. I told her how I could never focus, how I struggled with procrastination, how I couldn't handle the pressure and she recommended that I get assessed for ADHD. Now, I had suspended I had ADHD for years, but I didn't want to bring it up myself. I didn't want to seem like hypochondriac, or an attention whore, and after all, I had told so many people about my struggles and they never suspended ADHD. But I was relieved she brought it up and I had an "excuse" to get assessed. I was professionally diagnosed with ADHD soon after and happily went to my psychiatrist with my brand new diagnosis, I was full of hope that I would finally be "fixed". She basically told me she couldn't help me because she didn't know a lot about adhd. She prescribed me a very low dosage of Strattera (10 mg) and recommend me a specialist. I called the specialist, but they told me they couldn't give me an appointment and I should call in a few months, maybe it would be possible then.

It was july, and over the course of summer I decided I would try university again. Maybe if I was medicated for ADHD, I would actually be able to study. In fall of 2020, I started a brand new program, something very different from what I had done before.

I realized pretty quickly that the Strattera wasn't helping so I found a private ADHD specialist. I was extremely excited for the appointment. Again I thought "I only have to get through these few weeks, then I will finally get proper treatment" I didn't get proper treatment. He prescribed me more Strattera, which didn't help. The next appointment was a month after the first and again, I was excited. I was sure thia time he would fix me. I was sure after that appointment I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. But again, despite me saying I wanted to try something different, and that Strattera was not helping at all, he prescribed more Strattera.

Then university was getting really stressful, I had exams before Christmas, I was frustrated about him not listening to me. I started having suicidal thoughts again, I even relapsed with self harm, it had been months since the last time. But I more or less got through it in a piece, I even passed the exams (surprisingly), and was again looking forward to the next psychiatrist appointment after the Christmas vacation.

Strattera wasn't doing nothing, but it was not doing anything helpful. Basically, it made me feel quite relaxed, chill, less stressed. Which sounds good at first. But in order to get anything done, I rely on negative motivation. Basically, if I'm not panicking over possibly failing an exam, I'm just simply not going to study. So Strattera took the tiny bit of self-discipline and motivation that I had away and replaced it with a "idgaf"-attitude.Of course I told the psychiatrist. But can you guess what he did? Bingo, he upped the Strattera dosage. Again.

Then I had a second appointment with a new therapist, an ADHD specialist for adults. I told her how he did not care what I told him about Strattera and she was extremely upset and said that I can't let myself be treated like that. I needed to call him immediately and yell at him until he does something actually useful. I was baffled. I am not a confrontational person at all and I had never even considered actually arguing with a doctor. Yes I know, it sounds stupid in hindsight, but even after all that I had experienced, I still naively thought the professionals know best.

Okay so I called him. unsuccessful. I texted him. he ignored me. He had ignored my texts telling him that I was actually worse even before that last appointment, even though he told me to contact him with any concerns, and said that he prefered texts best, I thought he was maybe busy or something and didn't think much of it, but then he was ignoring my calls and texts. I was basically ghosted by a s

psychiatrist.

Okay I thought, then I'll simply go to someone else. To my suprise I got an appointment really quickly. I knew this wasn't a good sign, because good psychiatrists, if there even are any, don't have appointments free that soon.

But still, I had hope. And was of course disappointed again. I went to her with a professional ADHD diagnosis, but for her, that wasn't good enough. She had the audacity to tell me I needed another diagnosis from her psychologist friend who, by the way, has his office in a town over an hour away. She refused to treat me at all until I got that second diagnosis. Now,. I went to her out of pure desperation, out of knowing I simply could not go on like this any longer. Because I needed treatment quickly. And she told me she wouldn't give me that. I couldn't keep a few tears from escaping my eyea, she noticed and said very condescendingly "you don't have to cry, that's normal procedure". I tried my best to fight the tears, but as soon as I left her office, I started bawling my eyes out in the middle of town

And then I knew I was done. I had tried and tried again to get help, and I had not gotten it, I had not been listened to. Something in me snapped right in front of that office building.

I went home and threw my medication in the trash. Sure, it's bad to quit cold turkey like that, but honestly I don't care. I'm done. I'm done with psychiatry, I'm done with doctors. I have had the patience of a saint, but enough is enough. That was yesterday. And today I flipped a coin, twice, once for the psychiatrist and once for the new therapist. It told me to quit both of them, so I did.

I'm done with the mental health industrial complex. It has not helped me in all those years. I have only been sedated. Fuck psychiatry, fuck psychiatrists. Maybe I am simply meant to be miserable. I'll probably drop out of uni again, I thought I would be able to do it with treatment, but I did not get treatment, and I simply cannot do it this way. I've already attempted suicide because of academic pressure twice. Maybe I'll just have to live a miserable life working a low-paying job until I'm sad enough to finally actually kill myself. I'll probably always be a wreck, but at least I won't be a sedated wreck any longer. I'll be free, until I will be free for real.

Thank you for reading all this. I know it was a lot, but I needed to get it off my chest. Thank you.

#anti psychiatry #anti psych #antipsych #mental health industrial complex #long post #tw #cw

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mindynichole · 3 years

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Okay...so it’s time to tackle Episode 10x18 and why it didn’t bother me that much.

Despite getting to watch TWD Season 10B early thanks to a forgotten AMC Premiere account, I waited an entire 24 hours before I watched 10x18 out of fear of the inevitable.

And by now I’m sure you know exactly what I’m referring too.

However, after I did finally break down and watch it Friday evening, I was surprised that it didn’t bother me nearly as much as I thought it would.

Some might say that’s just because of the tinfoil hat now firmly placed tightly around my head after the previous episode convinced me even more Beth Greene might just show up out of the blue one day soon to a TWD universe production near you. Okay, I’ll give you that!

However, there are very logical reasons why I don’t feel the least bit threatened by this new woodland harlot, Leah, (I’m just joking, geesh) and I’m going to tell you what they are!

Before I begin, I want to make clear that while I’m not thrilled about the idea of Daryl being in a romantic relationship with anyone but Beth, I didn’t really even hate Leah but saw her instead as what I believe she was meant to be. On her own in another situation she probably would be a great character. However, when I have mentioned in the past that I liked this episode, I was mainly referring to the parts with Car*l. Not because I am petty and enjoyed the fight, but because I think these are conversations that Daryl and her need to be having.

Nevertheless, here’s my take of 10X18. Consider yourself spoiler warned if you haven’t seen it yet.

Daryl was probably at the loneliest part of his life when Leah enters the picture.

Let’s take the time and set this scene a moment...

At the point in the story when Leah first appears, Daryl has been wandering the woods for three freaking years looking for any sign of Rick’s body.

While Daryl is away, everything he knows has changed and life has just continued to carry on without him for everyone else he loves. Rick and Carl are both long gone. Carol is busy being a wife and mother. Michonne has pretty much shut off Alexandria from everybody including Team family. Maggie left for parts unknown with Georgie and has taken little Hershel with her.

Literally every single thing that Rick and Team Family ever tried to build during this apocalypse is shattered and everything the man has ever loved is gone.

We also can’t forget that the person Daryl would have naturally clung to during this sad time happened to “die” before he ever stepped foot into Virgina. Therefore, Daryl is left with absolutely no one. It’s a damn miracle that he didn’t off himself and might have - had he not been so obsessed in finding Rick’s body.

Leah is Daryl’s exact mirror in female form.

So he meets Leah after accidentally breaking into her cabin and almost immediately we can see she is literally like him looking into a mirror. Now, I’ve already read many people trying to compare her to Car*l and even Beth and while I do get what they are saying, I also disagree. This lady is no other than the female version of Daryl Dixon. He has surely found his exact match in her.

Here’s how we figure that out:

Leah is tough as nails but obviously has a heart because she doesn’t immediately kill Daryl for busting into her cabin and ultimately lets him go.

You come to find out she had abusive parents and a very shitty childhood just like Daryl.

You find out her life sucked until she found her group - who had given her not only hope but finally a real family.

Like Daryl, her life also greatly improved during the apocalypse.

It takes Leah a very long time to trust Daryl enough to even tell him her name.

You find out she had a son who was born very much like Judith was. Her “sister” died giving birth to him, causing her to raise him as her own.

Something horrible happens to the group (horde of walkers) and everyone else gets killed. She takes her son and runs to the cabin only to realize that he had been bitten and ultimately dies.

It highly implied Leah blames herself for what happened to her family.

Like Daryl, at this point in the story Leah has lost everything she has ever loved, has sought refuge in the woods, and is completely alone.

Yet, in no way, shape, or form was Leah ever supposed to be a replacement for Beth. Instead, I believe she actually demonstrates why Bethyl worked so well.

While I’m okay with the character of Leah, she’s no Beth. Not even close. As I stated before, she is just like Daryl and that’s really the problem.

Because we need to understand the thing that made Bethyl work so well was their fundamentally different personalities fitting together like peanut butter and jelly - both perfectly fine on their own but together making the perfect combination.

And TPTB spent a lot of time and effort back in the day showing us how much this was so.

While sometimes opposite people clash, we were shown that their different natures surprisingly completed each other very well. In other words, they were each other’s yin and yang. This was most obvious with Daryl helping Beth realize her own strength and Beth showing Daryl how to move forward. However, I could create an entire meta...and there are many that already exist out there...listing countless examples of how we saw them bringing the best out in each other. The combination of this along with their utmost (even sometimes brutal) honesty, shared history, and absolute trust in each other, created a foundation for a very healthy relationship.

In contrast, two people with nearly identical personalities and the same exact kind of unhealed trauma like Leah and Daryl, are usually not good life partners because they can hinder and get in the way of each other’s forward progress.

While you can understand why these kinds of people gravitate together and form bonds over shared experience, resulting romantic relationships can often be rocky. Many times the shared trauma can result in both partners having the exact same kinds of problems with trust, communication, and reckless expression of feelings. There is nobody in the relationship to model different kinds of behaviors and ideas since both tend to have the same life experiences to draw upon. Instead, each serves to the other as a living testament to and as confirmation of why their negative thoughts and behaviors are correct.

In other words, there is nobody there to throw the life preserver when both people are drowning. Nobody to even suggest to either partner a different way of doing things.

Also, when the relationship’s foundation is based solely on shared trauma, the trauma itself can become the only thing holding the two partners together.

This is why I never thought Daryl and Car*l would ever make good romantic partners. However, at least they have different types of personalities and kinds of trauma. Car*l is just...well Car*l - a force all on her own - and there’s nothing to suggest she ever experienced abuse in childhood. However, Leah being an exact carbon copy of Daryl gave that relationship even less of a chance.

And what I have just described seems to be exactly what we really do see happen between Daryl and Leah in Episode 10x18. I could list various examples but for time’s sake, I’m choosing not to because I am sure you can see it too - at least now that I’ve brought it up.

Just know I also believe this is why NR seemed to imply the relationship was not good in earlier preview shows.

Daryl flat out told Leah he didn’t know if he could choose her.

As many others have already pointed out throughout the weekend, I believe the biggest difference between Daryl’s reaction to Leah and his reaction to Beth is the simple fact he really didn’t seem to want to stay in that cabin with Leah forever. He doesn’t even seem all that upset about it either until he starts talking with Car*l later.

This drastically contrasts with the “Oh” scene with Beth. Hell, Daryl didn’t even care if the looney person who had been tending the funeral home and dressing up corpses came back! He wanted nothing more than to stay there and live happily ever after with her. There was no hesitation.

I would go as far as to say Beth is the only person able to completely divert Daryl's attention away from the rest of his family - much like she did when he spotted the Grady car and began his pursuit. However, Beth would never even ask such a thing - because not only is it her family too - but also because Beth was much too unselfish to let Daryl make those kinds of choices.

So you might ask yourself why he changed his mind in the end and made him decide to go back to Leah?

I believe he makes this choice because of the conversation with Car*l. She basically tells him that everyone else has found their place and it is time for him to find his place too. It begins to slowly eat at Daryl how they have all moved on without him. It’s important to remember that by this time in the story, he’s pretty much done scouring the river for Rick. He’s already checked out that “one last place” he hadn’t been. So now he’s beginning to ponder Car*l’s words and wondering where his place is now? Where does he go from here? It’s logical to think maybe he’s supposed to be in those woods with Leah after all.

Daryl and Leah’s relationship doesn't seem to leave much of a lasting impression or effect on Daryl.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe Daryl most definitely cared about Leah. Yet, we can’t forget how we first found Daryl all those years later after the time jump in Episode 9X6.

If you remember right, Daryl still wasn’t doing all that great. His relationship with Leah apparently does absolutely nothing to change his outlook on anything.

In comparison, we all know what just a few short weeks - perhaps a couple of months - in the woods with Beth Greene does to Daryl Dixon. It changes his character profoundly!

Daryl might have went back to Leah at the time...BUT he made it crystal clear to C*rol that he knows where he belongs NOW. That’s what the entire fight between them was really about.

There is a line that Daryl spits out during his fight with Car*l that sums up exactly why he wasn’t able to give up everything and stay with Leah. He tells Car*l that he knows where his place is…and he’s referring to being with his family at Alexandria. He’s angry that she doesn’t seem to understand that it’s where her place is as well.

AK later points this line out on TTD as important too. In fact, she literally states that his relationship with Leah is purely in the past and they will not go there again. It is rare for a showrunner to flat out proclaim something like this. It means she felt it was important for the audience to understand that this was done.She also points out that the fight is really about how sick Daryl is of Carol running away every time things get extremely difficult.

I would go a step further and say that Daryl is probably projecting what he now realizes was going on with himself when he was wandering the woods and choosing to stay there with Leah all those years ago. He’s upset with himself for having done so and he’s upset with Car*l that she has yet to have come to the same conclusion.

Ps: Be on the lookout for another post - a part two of sorts - later this week detailing all the things I’m still tinkering in my mind about this episode! ;)

Until then, keep calm and Bethyl on! She’s coming soon...

#bethyl #BETH LIVES #Beth Greene #daryl and beth #beth x daryl #bethyl forever #Team Delusional #team defiance #teamreckoning

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #366

“you can’t take me from me”

If you’re a girl, have you ever had the urge shave your hair? No. Do you live by a forest? Not anymore. :( How old are your parents? Late 50s. What do you prefer: Small cars, hybrids, trucks or SUVs? Uh, I guess normal ones? Like the ones with four doors and not that horribly low to the ground. What’s the scariest book you’ve ever read? I've never read a book that was scary to me. Do your parents drink? Dad doesn't anymore, and Mom very rarely does, usually just for special occasions. Does downloading music without paying make you feel guilty? Yes, so idk why I still do it. .-. Do you have any pet fish? Nah. What’s your favorite seafood to eat? I only like shrimp. Does your house have air conditioning? Yes. Name the creepiest horror movie character for you: Ghostface, ever since I was a kid. I was horrified of him, and I still think his design is mega creepy. How many college degrees do you want? I wanted to get at most a Bachelor's (I never saw reason to go higher in the fields I was interested in, except for my brief wildlife biologist aspiration), but now I know I'm not getting any degrees. Do you like animals? I love animals. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes. What do you wear to sleep? Pj pants and a tank top. How many keys do you carry with you? One. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah. Sometimes Dad and I would go to hockey games together. I don't really care for sports, hockey included, but it was still something we bonded over since I was normally in the living room on the laptop while he was watching it. Which do you value more, intellect or work ethic? Work ethic. Both are important, but I'd rather have a dedicated, worthy employee versus a lazy one that just happens to have brains. Have you ever been covered in mud? Yes, as a kid. Ever been to a cabin on a mountain? No, but omG I fucking wish. Ever lost your voice? Yes. Do you take your time when making an important decision? I take way too much time because I obsess over doing the right thing. Are you a cautious person? Very. Do you chew gum? Sometimes. What makeup product do you never use? A lot, really. Bronzer is literally never, I haven't touched blush in forever, and the same goes for foundation. Have you ever been offered drugs on the street? No. Have you ever seen a jellyfish? Only at aquariums. Do you ever put bread in your soup? UGH, NO. Bread should NOT be soggy. Do you want some soup? No, I don't even really like soup. Is there anything in the USB key slots in your computer/laptop? Yeah, the sensor thing for my wireless mouse. Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? I don't believe so; I'd certainly feel it and wake up. Have you ever done that to someone else? Pretty sure no. Is there any TV show you watch religiously? No. Do you like the window seat or aisle seat on an airplane? WINDOW. I hate the aisle seat, mainly because I get dizzy when I can't see outside for some reason? I really don't know how that works, but when I sit at the window and can see what the plane is doing, I don't get dizzy. I also really want to just stare outside as I listen to my iPod. Has anyone ever really insulted you? Yes. Do you ever make banana sandwiches? I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich rarely. What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? Probably Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. Phil went HARD, y'all. Did your parents teach you how to cook/bake when you were growing up? There were rare occasions where I helped cook, but I never really learned. If you could own any three fictional objects from any book/movie/show, what would you choose? (does not have to all be from the same book/movie/show) Ohhh, interesting. I'm going to include games in this, because that's what I'm most informed in. ... And I'm still blanking. OH! Definitely a Dreamvisitor from Wings of Fire, as I think it'd be pretty cool or even useful to see into other's dreams and even communicate. The Obsidian Mirror from the same series would also be pretty cool, but also seems somewhat immoral to me, I guess, to be able to spy on others. I mean it could be useful in some cases, but still. I somehow can't think of a third one, even after expanding my options to games. A lot of game objects are just too specific to their fantasy universe and not helpful in real life. What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve worked somewhere? Not even two hours lmaoooo. Have you ever negotiated a pay raise? No. Have you ever been a victim of identity theft? No. Do you know anyone who’s had their kids taken by Child Protective Services? No. What is your favorite smell/scent? Cinnamon rolls. How long can you run without stopping? I honestly don't think I *could* run without my knees immediately being like "um excuse the fuck out of you" and crumpling. What age do you want to live to? I know this varies from person to person, so I can't say an exact age, but I do. NOT. Want to live to where I'm a liability/require other people to take care of me, like give me a bath and stuff. No. Fuck-ing. Thank you. If you had a time machine, when would you go to? I'd honestly want a glimpse into my future, just to see how I'll be. At the same time though, I feel like knowing would suck if I saw something bad instead of a good life. Like, I'd possibly be suicidal again if it's just crap. I feel like if I was legitimately offered this, I would say no. Have you ever been infatuated with someone and you didn’t even know why? No. I think. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No. Is your more photogenic side your left or right? Well, because of how my hair is positioned, my left side. My hair is parted very far to the left, so the right side of my face is sorta cut diagonally by hair. Do you currently owe money to anyone? No. If you were ever to be on the news, what would you want it to be for? Something heroic, I guess. What’s the fastest you’ve ever driven? Accidentally, probably up to like 80 on the highway. Have you ever donated blood? Have you ever done a blood test? I have to both. Have you been inside of a burning building? What happened? Z O I N K S no. Do you believe in astrology/horoscopes? Nope. Have you ever dined alone at a restaurant? No. Have you been in a car accident? What happened? Yes. Some idiot was carrying wood in the back of his truck, and it wasn't secured whatsoever. He hit a bumpy spot, and some of the wood dropped to the road, and he began to swerve out of control. Nailed the side and bumper of my mom's car. Mom drove into a ditch, but in some manner to avoid us flipping over, which judging from the impact point, cops theorized was "supposed" to happen. Nowadays I am terrified to ride or drive behind trucks carrying anything in the back. Have you ever lived alone? No. Have you ever been stung by a bee? Once, on my leg. Have you ever bought stuff at a thrift store? Yeah, I love thrift shops. What was your very first email address? The one I still use now, so I won't share it. It fits me well, but I still hate sharing it, haha. It's just not very "adult-ish." How often do you take naps? Just about every day. Have you ever won a game of pool? Idr. Have you ever seen a tornado in real life? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Have you been in a long-distance relationship? Yes. Have you swam in the ocean? Yeah, I love it. Have you gone ziplining? No, but it'd be cool! Have you been rock climbing? No, just those mock walls at school field days and stuff. Have you hitchhiked? No. Have you had stitches? Where? My chin and then at the very base of my spine. Have you ridden in a taxi? What about an Uber/Lyft? None of those. Have you ridden on a horse? Not legit, but at childhood festivals where there are some horses that walk in a circle... the poor things. I would LOVE to ride a non-restrained, tame horse. Ugh, I wish I could have a horse in general. Their ability to bond with humans is magical. I'll never actually have one, though. I could nooot do all the care they require, and I don't plan on living somewhere where having a horse is appropriate. Have you taken part in a protest? What for? No, just boycotting. Have you ever signed a petition? Yes. I can't remember all of them. Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? No. Have you ever given someone else a haircut? No. What is the longest your hair has been? Just past the small of my back. Have you ever been stranded because your car broke down? No. Thank god for phones, lol. Have you performed on stage? What did you do? Yes, for school band concerts as well as dance recitals. Have you ever used a tanning bed? What about tanning spray? No. How do you prefer to celebrate your birthday? Just quiet and chill with my family, but still give me alone time, please. Who is the best cook that you know? /shrug Do you believe in Bigfoot? What about the Loch Ness Monster? The Loch Ness Monster I don't, but I find surviving sasquatches very possible. There's just too many reported sightings to be totally ignored. I'm not 100% on them still being around, though. I feel like we would've caught one by now. Do your friends tend to be male or female? Female. If you could change anything about human nature, what would it be? Our proclivity to violence when angered. Have you ever fainted? Yes. What skills would you like to learn? Cooking, how to handle money in various contexts, social skills... There's a lot of things. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Meerkats, for sure. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I don’t. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? No. Are there any flowers planted outside your house? No. Do you have a favourite outfit that you like to wear for nights out? I don't have "nights out." When you have a soft drink, do you prefer it in a bottle or can? I like cans because the metal helps it stay cold. Who was the last person to embarrass you? What did they do? I don't know. When you’re upset, do you tend to comfort eat or lose your appetite? I am a BAD comfort eater. Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? Does/did that person go to the same school as you? My online friend Sammy. No. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? No. When was the last time you used a public toilet? Ummm I think for my birthday lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Jason has brown eyes. Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? That '70s Show and especially Supernatural.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''voices'' by motionless in white

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walaw717 · 3 years

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Since I have backed away from spending much time using social media, I have been able to reflect on the last few years, especially the last year and ask myself a simple question – where did I go off the tracks?

I realize that even knowing better, in the last year especially, I allowed fear to turn into anger and in the process become entangled in thoughts words and actions which were harsh to others and supportive of positions I do not fully hold.

In this last month of returning to journaling and stepping away from the one line meme bumper sticker world of social media I realized that once again I had substituted many things into my life to replace a relationship with God I have nurtured since childhood. It embarrasses me to say this and it embarrasses me to admit that I find my need for that relationship so powerful in my life. I find I am embarrassed because a well educated and intellectual person is supposed to be beyond such “nonsense”. Also, I find myself often embarrassed by how often people publicly do so many cruel and horrible things with the word god on their lips, especially the televangelists and just as often the mainstream religious leaders who have often been an embarrassment, frustration and disappointment for me. It seems to me at times that to speak of God and one’s relationship and need of God is almost itself sacrilegious - but I know that feeling for me is so strong because throughout history God has been used as a cudgel for fear, punishment and obedience more than a center of real relationships. Or we often find that the love coming from the lips of the speakers about God is hollow and meaningless.

However, in my work as a therapist and counselor over thirty years I know that the best work that has occurred in my office is when God has been in the room – verbally acknowledge or not. God is in action in this world – the living force of all relationship and that relationship is not simply restricted to man. Last year I witnessed the ancient willow in my yard lift a frond and embrace a planter of new flowers we had just placed on the balcony rail.

So, what happened for me? To me? How did I get so far removed from that which has been my center and sustained me?

A man, a minister, a priest whom I thought was my friend ignored my grief and pain when I lost my mother. I should not have been surprised, I had seen him do this before, rushing away from a funeral service and leaving the widow to mourn alone because he had a new baby that was more important for him to see than to see the need of comfort she required. And in that same year I spoke to a Bishop at the end of my year of discernment to become a priest and in our conversation he did not acknowledge me as a person in conversation but focused on administrative things. Although neither should have shaken my faith in God, it shook my faith in the church and I mistakenly thought the church was God. From that point I slid into a slow burn in life because I disconnected from the very thing that had sustained me through a difficult childhood and then through most of my adult life. I think this is a common mistake – to conflate god with the church and the people of the church. And then expect them to be perfect for us in representing God.

It is occurring to me however that no person can ever be that perfection and that is why the essence of God in the world is grace – the ability to understand the violence, the suffering and pain that life manifests and forgive it all. Why the world, why the universe is made this way is beyond my understanding, but it is, and we need the grace of forgiveness of others and ourselves to survive. How do we become vessels for such grace? And more importantly we need to ask how we isolate ourselves from such grace.

A few days ago, I spoke to a small group of nursing students about the role of Behavioral Health where I work. They introduced themselves by name and pronoun and I was struck by how young they were and how sad that the best they could offer as a personal introduction was their name and preferred pronouns. If I had had time, I would have redone introductions and had them tell me something more personal about who they were. I spoke about the need of presence and kindness in the work of a nurse and/or counselor at the bed side. The people need that presence. At the end one very androgynous young women asked me about the issue of how to deal with the inequity and lack of “social” justice in the world. I think that is the question in some way we all deal with in our lives.

My answer to her was to be present with individuals, to be kind and to be aware of the person in front of us. In my better moments that is how I have helped people. No such thing exists in the social media driven by the speeches of politicians, the memes of hate and dis-ease or the private manufactured lives of celebrities. It surely does not act in the crowd shouting for change. Social justice is individual justice. I wish that act of presence and awareness had been present in the priest I knew and the Bishop I spoke to – but they too are human and just like you and I are inclined to get lost in self directed moments. We all do.

It is in our relationship with God that we are at our best. When we are present with “him” that we are most present with others. When we are present with “him” we lose our concerns and fears and can be there in the moments when life around us is suffering because when “he” is present we have a strength and peace that is beyond words. We can hope that others can offer that to us in our moments of pain and need and that they too have the experience of that presence. God is always there but it is in our relationship with another “His” power is most noticeable. In those moments too we learn that love is not some sexually driven frenzy of our DNA but it is simply being and is just there in that intimate moment.

Our relationship with the presence of God is vital. And it is when we are in that relationship, we create the church, the community of God and can then be life-giving and life-affirming.

And We can know that in our not being God and having moments of weakness that God will be there through another – because we will have moments of being distracted and be selfish and inward.

Our relationship with God is what gives us purpose and the center of our being.

When we let our relationship with God slide, an emptiness sets in. I have seen that in my own life in the last few years. Sometimes we try to fill that hole with various things, politics, social media, a multitude of things but those things don’t quite fit. None of those things makes us whole. What makes us whole is our presence in the moment of another’s greatest need.

Real love wants us to experience that life-giving relationship. Real love is willing to share the experience of the presence God within us with others. In that sharing is our act of presence and kindness.

Here's where our hope is: when we are in right relationship with God, we can be in a right relationship with each other, and those relationships help build each other, not tear each other down. If often feels like our society has lost sight of this – especially the intellectually driven and self-conscious academic life that has come to dominate us though our universities and our obsession with self-esteem. We have lost the knowledge that esteem is how we are held by others by our presence and actions. And of course, where there is too much self – there is too little room for the presence of others and God.

There are many things that can try and keep us from having that closeness with God. Sometimes those things come from our family members, especially those who do not want us to make room in our hearts for anyone else. Mostly though the thing that most keep us from that relationship with God and keeps us from that relationship each other is distraction with how we feel. That was my priest friend’s failure toward me and in turn my failure toward him.

For me over the last few years social media has been a distraction, I find all too often the people I meet there have more of a relationship of talking at each other and not really sharing with each other. The one’s I have really connected with share themselves, which is quite risky in the public forums of social media. Being an administrator has also been a distraction – I miss sitting and being present with others – not to solve their problems but to be there and maybe offer some direction and comfort if I am able.

And my hurt over the loss of my mother, my very deep hurt that a friend forgot my suffering became the greatest distraction to me. I simply decided that all the talk was “bullshit” and no one really meant it. It was after that my private practice began also to deteriorate as I focused on things other than the presence of those coming to meet with me.

I became the very thing that had hurt me.I no longer blame my priest, but I do allow that to be a reminder of the importance of being present in each moment with people and to make sure to not allow my fear and anger pain to turn to anger. This is something I have always known but in the knowing I forgot to live and that forgetting was directly tied to dismissing God from my life.

Now I am doing the hardest thing any human can do for another person- find and offer forgiveness for him being as human as I .

And all of this has come to me because I divorced myself from social media for twenty-eight days.

I just realized that without awareness I gave up social media for lent and in going to the desert of my own soul I found a relationship with God again.

This is a further offering of peace to all of you I have been unkind too over the last few years, especially over the last year regarding politics.

If there is a hell, and I believe there is and there are many gates to hell, the distraction and cruelty of social media is the one most crowded now.

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squeeneyart · 4 years

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 2

AO3

It's pouring outside, and expectations are met with varying success.

There are new faces in the lighthouse.

Martin, big as he was, didn’t get much mileage out of umbrellas, especially when the rain decided that falling straight down would be too convenient. There was just too much of him to cover, and as he walked his way up the cliff side that morning, umbrella in hand, he considered just turning back and leaving the day’s work for Saturday. It wouldn’t be so terrible, skipping a day. With no one to check in on him, he had every right to finish things up later.

He thought of his home on the rocky beach and kept moving upward. Already soaked through, there wasn’t much point turning back, now was there? And he had already made it through the worst of the muddy path anyway. He would just hang his jacket up somewhere in the kitchen when he got to the lighthouse, maybe his shoes too while he was at it.

The walk was loud with the rain and splashing footsteps of the usually morning passerby. The weather gave Martin ample reason to keep his head down, and if it hadn’t been for a loud crack of thunder making him jump and peek up at the sky, he wouldn’t have looked up at all. The lighthouse was stark white against the storm clouds, and in the small lot tucked to the right side of the building, were several unfamiliar cars and one very nice familiar one.

Martin groaned. “Peter.” He mentally patted himself on the back for not giving into his lazier impulses. Of course Peter changed his plans with no notice. He was so rich that the concept of people having time for anything other than his use probably never occurred to him. Hopefully this time it wasn’t another weird congregation of his fellow old rich men from the next town over. The last time Peter had had to postpone a boating trip for business, it had left him in a foul mood for weeks, and Martin was the one to deal with it.

The other cars in the lot didn’t read as particularly nice, but Martin didn’t know much about cars and couldn’t judge on a clear day, nevermind one like this. He considered using the back entrance, but he was already tired and wet and ready to make himself from tea. Up the dark stone steps, he found the main door unlocked and quietly let himself inside, hoping that Peter and whoever his guests were had already-

“Martin! A bit late, aren’t we?” Peter’s voice rang out through the building, making Martin wince. Martin closed his umbrella and looked across the main room to see Peter and three distinctly not-old-men staring at him. They looked somewhere around his age, though at his ripe age of twenty-nine, it was hard to tell between early twenty-somethings and those pushing forty. “Hope this doesn’t mean I have to figure out a clock-in system. You know how bad I am with such things.” Peter was smiling in a way that told Martin instantly just how pissed he was to be dealing with whatever this was. Great.

“Oh, um. Yes, the rain made the walk up a bit- sorry. Um, what’s going on?” Martin stumbled through with his usual grace, wanting to shrink down and die with the way the four of them were staring. “You were-”

“Supposed to be on the boat this morning, yes,” Peter said through his teeth.

One of the strangers, the tallest and by far the best-looking with perfectly styled hair despite the rain, raised an eyebrow and shared a glance with the short woman with dark, curly hair pulled back into a half ponytail. Next to her was the shortest of the three, a man with dark skin and even darker, shaggy hair that was just turning gray at the roots, who looked at Martin for a moment before apparently deciding that there was nothing of interest there and impatiently turning back to Peter.

“Some quick introductions and then I’ll be on my way,” said Peter, moving around the three newcomers to walk towards Martin and the door. “One of my beneficiaries, Mr. Bouchard, has requested at very little notice to have some of his own come here for a week or two for research purposes. Incidentally, I will be out for that exact time, starting in a few minutes! Your work documents will be delivered as usual. Just let them do their work, stay in your space, and it’ll be over before you know it.” Before Martin could utter a sound, Peter brushed past him and said, quietly, “Stuffy academic types, the lot of them. Very judgmental I’ve heard.” And then he was out the door. Martin watched him leave and then turned back awkwardly.

“Um. Hi?” Martin waved stupidly, feeling the horrible burn of their gazes. The good-looking one smiled brightly and brought up a hand in friendly recognition.

“Y’know, he said he’d do introductions, but last time I checked my name wasn’t ‘work documents’,” he said, coming forward and putting a hand out, which Martin shook in a daze. The woman behind him snorted. “My name’s Tim Stoker. Behind me is Sasha James, hereby dubbed ‘research purposes’, and our head leader man, Jonathan Sims.” Tim put up a hand in a secretive manner. “A big longer title, ‘It’ll be over before you know it’, but it fits all the same.” He winked, and Martin laughed despite himself. Jonathan rolled his eyes and walked over to the folding table to sift through his work bag. Martin saw this and wanted to kick himself.

“I’m Martin Blackwood, Peter’s assistant. You’re all researchers then? What-” and at that moment, Martin sneezed. “Oh, gosh, excuse me. I’d better at least stop dripping all over the place.” Martin sheepishly walked past Jonathan to the kitchen, shedding his damp coat to hang in the corner. He could feel the wetness in his shoes and socks and for a moment resented his unexpected company but shook the thought away. Taking stock of the cupboard in his mind, Martin popped his head back into the main room.

“I’m making tea if anybody would like some,” he offered. Tim and Sasha were receptive and followed him back to the kitchen, taking off their own coats to hang next to his own and sitting down at the uncomfortably small table.

“Is this thing made for people to sit at?” Tim asked, his long legs bumping against Sasha’s.

“One person, maybe? God, it’s like a university desk.” Sasha replied, purposefully bumping her knee into his to make him move and laughing when we gave an exaggerated noise of pain. Martin smiled a little to himself as he placed the kettle on the stove. Sasha leaned onto her elbows and looked up at him. “So, Martin. Does anyone else work here?” He frowned, keeping his face away from them.

“Oh, um, no. Just me,” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “Peter keeps a pretty small staff and they work in other buildings, so. Yeah. Just me.” Martin could feel the awkward pause coming and continued, turning to lean next to the stove top. “So, researchers! Can’t think of why you’d come to a big old lighthouse. Is this some sort of, I dunno, architecture thing? Testing saltwater? Coming to find a sea monster?”

“Actually, not a terrible guess!” Tim tilted his chair back and linked his fingers behind his head. “Probably not a sea monster, though it would be pretty cool.”

“We’re researchers looking into the supernatural,” Sasha interjected in a more serious tone. “The three of us were sent out here to take some statements and do some investigating into local occurrences. Usually it would just be one of us, but Elias, the Mr. Bouchard Peter mentioned, wanted us all on the ground for this one.”

“It’s ridiculous.” Martin jumped at the sound. Jonathan stood in the doorway, keeping his displeased look trained on the paper in his hands. Tim glanced at Martin in a way that seemed to say here we go. “Just one of us would be good enough to take some statements and be on our way. It’s just a waste of resources.” It was Sasha’s turn to roll her eyes. The way Tim and Sasha seemed to include Martin in this small moment of exasperation made him feel equal parts warm and ashamed at taking humor at Jonathan’s expense.

Sasha replied, “Look Jon, the fact that we were all sent out means there’s probably something really interesting about this place.” Jonathan snorted, finally looking up at her.

“Sure, because Elias has never wasted our time.” He looked back down, content with leaning against the doorway. “We’ll talk to some locals, get some childhood campfire stories, and leave knowing a little bit more about local culture and not much else.” There was a lull in the conversation as Jonathan seemed to check out, satisfied with his point.

“What do you think, Martin?” Tim asked eventually.

“What?”

“Any weird things in this town? Spooky hauntings? Creatures of the deep?” Tim asked further. Before Martin could answer, the kettle began to squeal and he began his tea preparations.

“Oh, nothing that I know of, no. It’s a quiet place.” The sea folk here are definitely quiet, he thought, which he knew was unfair to think. His mother didn’t talk much, certainly, but it’s no reason to be mean. “Oh, Jonathan-”

“Just Jon.”

“Oh, um, okay. Jon, did you want any? Tea, I mean?” Jon looked up at him for a moment and then down again.

“Yes, I suppose so. Whatever is fine.” And then he turned and left the room.

“Oookay.” Martin sifted through the decent amount of tea he had collected over the last few months. He asked for Tim and Sasha’s preferences and did his best to follow them. “Anyway, yeah, I’m not super involved in what goes on in town, to be honest. I live down the cliff side by the shore, so local stuff kind of goes over my head,” Martin said, laughing a bit before biting his tongue. What an awful joke. He carried over the mugs of tea.

“Darn, and here I’d hoped you’d be able to make our jobs a bit easier for Jon’s sake. But hey, we’ll let you know if there’s evil lurking around the corner.” Tim sipped at his tea and seemed satisfied. Sasha did the same.

“If you think of anything, let us know. We got a bit of direction, but it’s not much. We’ll take just about anything,” Sasha said. Martin picked up Jon’s mug.

“Hmm. Well, I guess there’s this one weird thing? It’s probably nothing, but, y’know, it could be helpful.” Sasha and Tim looked at him expectantly, and the tips of his ears grew hot. “It’s just, you guys drove in right? Well, if you start from further away and head toward this building on foot, it doesn’t look right.”

“How do you mean?” Sasha asked, her brows knitting together. Martin struggled for a moment to find the words.

“Like. Like the perspective, I guess? It gets bigger but it feels like it’s going too fast, to the point where I can’t look at it when I come to work. Could just be a weird vertigo thing I have going on, but it would be easy enough to check when it’s not, y’know, pouring outside.” Martin looked at Sasha; she didn’t look entirely impressed, and Martin looked away. “Anyway, it’s probably nothing. I’m gonna-” and as he walked through the doorway, Jon appeared with a much larger stack of documents only for Martin to stumble into him and splash tea all over the papers. Jon jumped back and dropped them, freezing for a moment before looking up with such indignation that he couldn’t speak.

“Oh god, I’m-” Martin began, his face burning hot enough that it should’ve fogged his glasses. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you coming back and-” And then he shut his horrible mouth at the sight of Jon’s withering glare.

“Yes, well. It’s as Mr. Lukas said.” He bent down to pick up the soiled papers. “‘It’ll be over before you know it.’” Martin looked back at Tim and Sasha who gave him twin pained expressions.

No words left, Martin grabbed a towel to clean up the mess he’d made. He would do as Peter said, then. Let them do their work, stay in his own space, and, as a bonus step, keep out of Jonathan Sims’ way until things went back to the way they were.

The three researchers worked together at the folding table, grumbling at the lack of space, though Tim at least stopped complaining when he saw Martin’s tiny tray of a desk tucked away into the corner.

Martin got through his work, though the extra sounds echoed so much louder than when it was just him, and his pace was slowed a bit as he struggled not to eavesdrop. Still, he finished early as he had intended and began his trek up the spiral stairs to complete the list.

“Oh, are you heading up to the top? I’ve never been in a lighthouse before,” Tim said, stretching out of his cramped position at the table. “Mind if I tag along to stretch my legs?”

Martin thought for a moment and said, “I guess that should be fine? Though it’s not gonna look like much right now.”

“I’ll take it.” Tim stood and looked at his coworkers. “You coming, Sash’? Jon?”

Sasha stretched as well and got up, elbowing Jon lightly and pointing her chin towards the stairs. “C’mon, let’s take a break.” Jon stared for a bit before sighing.

“Fine.”

Martin led the way up, conscious the whole way of how slow he walked in comparison to the others. The walk itself was quiet only for the echoes of their footsteps bouncing around the cylindrical structure and the rain battering from outside. Martin kept his eyes on his feet, making sure to use the handrail. Tim, who started the climb up in the middle of the stairs, soon found himself clinging to the rail as well.

“I definitely believe you about the whole vertigo thing. I can feel it just walking up this place, and I don’t even have a thing about heights,” Tim said, doing his best to keep his tone upbeat.

“Yeah, I’d say you get used to it, but I still haven’t after months of this.” Martin let them lapse back into total silence, and when they reached the top, the researchers breathed a sigh of relief. Martin walked to his work station while they looked out the large panes of glass. Jon sniffed.

“Well, Tim, I hope it was worth it to see more fog.” He stepped away from the glass, tapping his foot impatiently. “We might as well start back down.”

“Oh, calm down,”” Sasha said. “We’ll let Martin finish. Besides, we need a break from all the walking.” Sasha walked past the window panes and then squinted as if in thought. “It was still raining, wasn’t it? When we started up here?”

“Must’ve stopped at some point,” Tim said, looking up in the direction of the sky.

“Yeah, but, there’s no droplets.”

“What?”

“On the glass. There should be rain droplets, right? There isn’t a large enough overhang to block the rain from hitting them.” Jon stopped tapping his foot and came to stand by them. The three looked out into the fog and then back at Martin, who was too busy with his tasks to pay attention to their conversation.

“Martin?” Sasha asked, jostling him from his concentration.

“Wh-yeah?” Sorry, I’m almost done-”

“That thing that happens when you walk here. Could you show us?”

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #timothy stoker #sasha james #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #peter lukas #technically a #Selkie au

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af-answers · 4 years

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Four Times Artemis Tries to Convince Holly to go with him to Mars and the One Time he Didn’t

The First Time | The Second Time | The Third Time | The One Time he Didn’t

The Fourth Time

The fourth time was during their sting operation to find the Changeling Napper in the American West. Foaly’s e-mail had been the itinerary of a gnome named Rumi Mush, a fungus farmer on the south side of Haven. Agricultural workers received more topside passes than most other professions in the fairy world, because though Haven’s technology was great, there were some things (like fertilizer and new seeds) one had to get from the source. Mush had been to California a week before the kidnappings began, and the surveillance photos showed Mush bringing a large biohazard container topside. It wasn’t uncommon for his trade, but Mush himself didn’t work with biohazards like spores or bacteria. But that wasn’t the smoking gun.

Foaly had done a media sweep of the area. Two days ago, in the same little town where the A5 shoot let out in California, a human child had been abducted from its crib. A wood carving of a human child had been left in its place.

The LEP raided his house on the outskirts of the gnome district and found not only the four missing fairy babes crying in a locked closet, but the human child in a cage in the basement. There were more cages as well: apparently, Mush was putting together a menagerie.

When Holly put out a warrant for his arrest, Mush was on another surface run. They alerted border patrol, but he’d passed them hours before. Giving orders to detain him if he came back through, Commodore Short and a team of LEP Retrieval sprites suited up and took the fastest shuttle to the surface. The sprites complained the cramped quarters wrinkled her wings, and while Holly didn’t dignify them with an answer, she smiled to herself.

When they got to the surface, Mush hadn’t returned. To Holly, this meant either he knew somehow he’s been made and was on the lam, or he’d been caught in the act by humans. Both were worst case scenarios. Using intel about which babies lived nearest the fairy mound, the team split into three pairs, each taking a potential target.

“If you hear sirens, follow them,” she instructed over the comms.

She and her partner approached their assigned house downwind. Gnomes had excellent senses of smell; if their quarry caught a whiff of them, they were done. After all, he had the advantage of being magic-less and so could hide inside the house, not to mention the hostages he could take. She crept up to a window of the one-story brick house. All the windows were dark, but she looked in anyway, turning on her night vision.

“No movement,” she reported. “Check the other windows.”

Just then, a voice call alert flashed in the corner of her helmet, the icon ice blue.

“Not the time, Artemis,” she whispered, side-stepping a tipped over flower pot on the stoop of the porch.

“On the contrary, Commodore,” the Irish accent sounded even more pretentious over the phone, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say for once. The house you’re investigating is devoid of human occupants. Ms. Gregston won a all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas this weekend, and she’s left her infant daughter with her parents.”

“How fortunate,” she snarked, straightening as the tension melted off her. “So I’m guessing Mush isn’t here either?”

“Oh,” she could practically hear his smirk stretch into a grin. “I wouldn’t say that. Look in the front window.”

Holly peeked over the cracking paint of the window sill into the front room. There, hog-tied inside a ring of candles, was Rumi Mush. Outside of the wax circle was a note, written in a woman’s hand,

“Come on in.”

“I’ll see you at the fairy mound,” Artemis said, then hung up the phone.

As her team escorted a handcuffed Mush into a police shuttle, Holly slipped into the woods to meet the hulking figure in the shadows.

“Hide and seek was never your game, eh big man?” she joked, tapping Butler on the thigh with her first.

“I was quite good at being ‘it’,” he said with a grin.

Holly turned her gaze on Artemis, who looked entirely too smug.

“What were you thinking, interfering with LEP business like this?”

The grin shrunk a few teeth. “If I hadn’t interfered, you would have had a hostage situation on your hands!”

“I’m not complaining,” she pointed out. “I’m asking what were you thinking. Why this case? Why now?” It had been less than forty-eight hours since their lunch conversation, but the boy— no, man— looked different now. Emotionally. Though he smiled and his shoulders were sloped back in a relaxed stance, her helmet sensors showed an elevated blood pressure and too-even breathing. Like he was regulating it manually.

She took off her helmet, tucking it under her arm before taking his hand. “What’s happened, Artemis?”

He looked up at his oldest friend, who coughed into one gargantuan fist. “I’ll go— wait by those trees. You know the ones.”

When he’d gone, Artemis sighed, his smile now tired. “I can’t beat Foaly’s sensors, can I?”

“Why would you try?” She activated her wings so she could hover at his eye level. “Does it have something to do with the space thing? Why are you so hung up on this Artemis? Why are you in such a hurry—“

“Hurry? I’ve been building this ship for four years!”

“And you can’t wait a little longer? You’re still young, your brothers are still young. If you leave now, you’ll miss most of their childhood.”

“All the more reason to leave now,” he joked.

“This all seems very reactionary for you, Arty. I’ve never known you to make such a big decision so flippantly.”

“Apparently I’m supposed to be flippant. Flippant is normal.”

Artemis ran his free hand through his hair— a rare gesture for him, as it mussed his quaff— and pursed his lips to keep himself from talking further (another rarity).

But that last word was all Holly needed. It was a word Artemis seldom used unless he talked about one specific person. “It’s your mother.”

Holly led him to the coffee house in the shuttle terminal. They got a lot of sideways glances, but Artemis had been on multiple Haven talk shows since his rebirth, so there was no outright alarm.

“It didn’t begin when I resurrected,” he said as she set a earthenware cup of hickory coffee in front of him. “It didn't even start after Hybras, it was well before then. I think Mother has considered herself a failure as a parent since Father’s return, and she’s been trying to rectify the problem— me— ever since.” He wrapped his hands around the cup, but didn’t lift it to drink. “First her behaviors were what I considered to be typical for a mother: buying me clothes I didn’t like, disapproving of my language, wanting me to socialize with people my own age. But when Myles showed signs of taking after me, it changed. Escalated.” He sighed deeply, and Holly realized this was hard for him, that he most likely had never voiced these thoughts aloud. She covered his hands with hers, but remained silent.

He took another breath, then went on. “She was already going to university for psychology and mental biology, so she took up some child psych classes. After her first class, she sent the twins to a private boarding school on the other side of Dublin. I know part of her reason was so the twins would be more socialized than I am. A noble goal to be sure.” He stared at their joined hands, a crease forming between his brows. “When the twins were suspended for criminal recklessness, I’ve never seen Mother so upset. Not only with the twins, but me as well. She would never accuse me of corrupting my brothers, of course, but after that she monitored me constantly. Every day she asked me probing questions, and I could feel her diagnosing me, trying to suss out how I was broken.” He pressed his eyes shut. “Do you know what it feels like, to have someone you love and admire try to change the fundamentals of who you are? To have someone make you question if you’re sensible or even real?”

Now Holly did speak. “Yes,” she said, squeezing his hands. When he opened his eyes to look at her, they were watery, the ice in his blue irises melting. “In my early days as an officer, Commander Root and my coworkers challenged every decision I made. If I showed emotion, I was acting like a girl. If I did something right, I was finally ‘thinking like a man.’”

“The commander said that to you?” Artemis asked, angry on her behalf.

She shrugged. “It was the way at the time. He apologized later, and no one on the force would dare make those comments now, but back then I was jeered at for acting like a woman, but rejected if I bucked gender roles. It was wrong of them to treat me as if my differences were flaws.” She said the next words gently, but firmly. “And it’s wrong of Angeline, too.”

He shook his head. “Your colleagues were prejudiced against your biology. I made horrible choices in the past, and Mother believes it’s her job to pick up the pieces.”

“You wearing Armani suits everyday and calling her ‘Mother’ doesn’t make you an evil dictator, Artemis,” she argued. “Your mother is upset because you are who you are independent of her influence. You took care of her when you were ten years old. You were saving the planet by fourteen. If she can’t see the amazing man you’ve become, it’s her who needs a shrink.”

The human blinked, then smiled, one side of his mouth pulling up higher than the other. “See? This is why I need you to come to Mars with me. Who else would put me in my place?”

She withdrew her hands and frowned. Her stomach fell like she’d eaten a meal of lead. “Wait. Was this all a ploy to convince me to go to Mars?”

He tilted his head at her, then laughed when he processed her question. “No, no it’s all sadly true. I must still have a way to go if you believe I’d tell such an egregious lie to trick you into running away with me. Or perhaps, you’re simply arrogant.”

Holly shared his laugh, her stomach light again. “Even though we shouldn’t change who we are to match someone else’s expectations, there's always room for personal growth.”

He finally took a drink of coffee, then winced when he found it was room temperature. “In all seriousness, the offer still stands. If there’s even a part of you that doubts, please think on it.” He produced a fairy credit chip to pay for their drinks, and Holly didn’t bother asking where he’d gotten it. He stood, still smiling sadly at her. The emotion was become a constant for him, and she didn’t like it. “The launch is scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow. Please let me know by then.”

She nodded numbly, her brain scrabbling to answer the unspoken question of whether she did doubt, when her thoughts finally snagged on two vital words.

“Two weeks?”

#mild spoilers #artemis fowl #holly short #angeline fowl #in which i work through some issues

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nicolewrites · 4 years

Text

We Stand, Fate-Tested - VIII

D&D took up much more time than I anticipated which is why this is late haha.

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 6,249

A birthday party gives Byleth a headache. / Claude unmasks an enemy.

AO3 | FFN

VIII - Complications

Garreg Mach University - 10 Lone Moon, 733 AU

"How's your neck today, Byleth?" Harriet asked as she entered the lab.

Byleth turned her head experimentally. There was still a twinge of pain when her jaw angled towards her right shoulder, but it was much, much better than it had been directly after the crash.

"It's alright," she replied. She kept her eyes focused on the screen of the computer in front of her, hoping the post-doc would leave her alone if she was clear she didn't want to talk about it. Thankfully, Harriet got the hint and settled down at her own workstation, leaving Byleth alone.

Since the crash, Byleth felt like she was being babied. Flayn called her every night to check up on her and Seteth never left her alone on-site during the dig. He also seemed keen on having one of his other students in the lab whenever Byleth was there as if she was just going to keel over on her own. It was starting to get annoying.

Out of the four people in the car, Byleth felt like she had gotten off the easiest. Edelgard was recovering from a not-so-fun concussion, Claude had fractured his arm in three places, and Dimitri was another story entirely. While he wasn't as physically hurt as the rest of them, the accident had dredged up some horrible psychological trauma for him and he had been basically catatonic for a week, responding only to the gentle prodding of his childhood friends who knew him best.

Edelgard's father had wanted her to return to Fhirdiad where she could be safe and guarded, but she had protested, staying on in all of her classes as well as the dig in the pinnacle of stubbornness. Claude had had his archery season cut short which was definitely annoying, but he still managed to keep his head up and help out on site, despite lacking the use of his left arm.

The crash had been the subject of several tabloid stories for about a week before Edelgard's father finally managed to get it snuffed out. It had been strange to get sympathetic glances wherever she went and to hear the murmured whispers behind her back. It still happened occasionally, but it helped that Edelgard, Claude, and even Dimitri were good at ignoring rumours and pretending that nothing had happened.

Claude had been spending a lot of time in the lab with Byleth when he wasn't in class. He claimed it was because he needed to feel useful to the team somehow since he thought his arm was impeding the dig. Byleth never protested his company. He never pushed her to talk about the crash or its lead up, instead chattering about history and whatever artifacts they were working with. It was both a pleasant distraction and a welcome motivator.

The door to the lab swung open and Byleth glanced up. Seteth strode in, looking more stressed than she'd seen him in a long time, not counting the look of despair he'd worn when he'd visited her at the hospital. Byleth straightened in her seat as Seteth hung his jacket by the door.

"Seteth?" she inquired to her advisor.

Seteth turned towards her when she spoke and Byleth caught the hint of guilt that rapidly spread across his face as he did so. Byleth frowned and pushed her chair back.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Seteth glanced at Harriet who was working away at her own computer with headphones in and he walked towards Byleth, sinking into the seat next to her. "I received some news today," he admitted.

He passed her a folder that he had been holding and Byleth flipped to the first page in it. It was a letter from the Fhirdiad Museum. She scanned it and felt her features twist into a scowl as she processed the words on the page.

"Cancel the dig? They want you to call it all off? Because of a car accident?"

Seteth sighed and took the folder back from her. "Byleth, you were run off the road. That's not just a car accident. You happened to be with three of the most famous youths in the country at the time while on an equipment retrieval trip for a sponsored dig. That's not good press."

Byleth huffed. "And we're all fine and still ready to work on the dig. They can't just cancel it! You've been working towards this for so long. We've only barely started the work we wanted to do. We just got structural approval for the eastern chambers and we're only now passing where Dr. Charon got to. If we don't do this now, there's no telling when the next time someone will be allowed to excavate down there."

Seteth's expression flashed with guilt again. "I was the one who proposed cancelling the dig," he admitted quietly. "There is no history or discovery that is worth the lives of students."

Byleth's hands slammed against the desk and she shot to her feet. Harriet looked over at the disturbance. "You don't even know that that was what any of this was about," she hissed. "You can't throw this away just because of one thing, Seteth."

Seteth looked tired, but he didn't argue with her. Byleth frowned and stepped away from her desk. She grabbed her purse and jacket from by the door and gave him one last hurt look.

"I'm going for lunch," she said shortly.

She made it almost out of the building when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. She huffed and fished it out, expecting to see Seteth's caller ID. It wasn't him calling so Byleth answered and pressed the phone against her face.

"Claude?"

"Teach! Exciting news! We've finally gotten everything organized for Friday so we can start inviting people now," he said cheerfully through the phone.

Byleth laughed faintly. "Inviting people?"

"It's Ignatz's birthday on Friday and we're having a surprise party for him. Consider this an official invite."

"A birthday party? Claude, I don't know," she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't worry about not knowing people. It's Ignatz, so we're keeping it relatively small. The whole undergrad dig team is getting invited, plus the archery team, plus our roommates so you'll probably know almost everyone that's there."

She huffed a laugh. "When and where?"

She could practically hear the smile on his face through the phone. "Friday at 9 at our place. I'll text you the address."

"I haven't said yes yet," she pointed out.

Claude chuckled. "You asked when. For you, Teach, that's a yes."

Golden Deer House, University Suburbs - 14 Lone Moon, 733 AU

Byleth knocked on the door with the backs of her knuckles. Her toe tapped against the stone of the doorstep as she took in the house again. It was a beautiful place: something much more extravagant than she had expected for a bunch of students. She had almost wondered if Claude had given her the wrong address until she saw the wire cutout of a deer stuck into the garden and she had chuckled to herself.

After a moment, the door swung inward and Byleth was met with a grinning Hilda. She blinked in surprise at the sight of another of her former students. Hilda's hair was pulled up and she was wearing a flashy silver top and a cute skirt. Hilda stepped backwards and gestured for Byleth to come inside.

"Uh, thanks," she mumbled. "And hi, Hilda, I didn't know you'd be here."

Hilda snorted a laugh as Byleth stepped inside and slid off her boots. "Wow Claude really didn't explain anything, did he? I live here. This whole place is a bunch of Golden Deer in our year. We've been living together since our second year."

"So, it's you, Claude, Ignatz, and," she trailed off, waiting for Hilda to continue the list.

"Lorenz, Marianne, Lysithea, Raphael, and Leonie. You know Lorenz and Lysithea, obviously. Marianne is my best friend and Raph and Ignatz are from the same small town. Leonie's from eastern Fódlan. Most of us are in fourth year, but little Lysithea is in her third year and Leonie's doing five years because of her job," Hilda explained, tapping her fingers as she counted out her roommates.

Byleth furrowed her brow. "Wait, Leonie Plinecky?"

Hilda blinked, her pink eyes widening a bit as Byleth caught her off guard. "Yeah. Do you know her?"

Byleth laughed to herself. "Yeah, she used to take self-defence from my dad," she explained.

Hilda shrugged. "Huh, small world I guess. Now, come on. Ignatz is already here and we did indeed scare the shit out of him with this party. You've got to say hello."

Hilda linked her elbow with Byleth's and dragged her through the living room towards what Byleth assumed to be the kitchen. She recognized a few of the faces in the living room that were drinking and playing games from around campus, the time she went to one of Claude's archery competitions or people Claude had exchanged words with when they had been together on various occasions.

In the kitchen, Byleth recognized more people. There was Ignatz, Lorenz, Annette, Ingrid, Lysithea, Dimitri, one of Dimitri and Ingrid's other friends with dark hair who she thought was named Felix, a boy she recognized from the archery team, plus a few others, and of course, Claude. Lorenz spotted them first and wandered over. Hilda dropped Byleth's arm and planted a light kiss on Lorenz's lips. Byleth blinked in surprise, but her attention was quickly drawn to Claude who had beelined to her side.

"Teach! You're late," he teased.

Byleth rolled her eyes. "You said 9, it's only 10."

"Hello Byleth," Ignatz said brightly. He was wearing a crooked birthday hat and Byleth laughed at both it and the blush on his cheeks.

"Happy birthday," she replied.

"Ignatz! I got it working!" the hulking young man next to Ignatz said, practically shoving his phone in the smaller boy's face.

Ignatz's smile grew and he took the phone. "Maya!" he greeted. Instantly some of the people in the kitchen giggled and started filing out of the room.

Byleth glanced at Claude curiously. He pressed a cup full of some sweet, alcoholic-smelling beverage into her hand and steered her back into the living room.

"That's Raphael," Claude said. "Ignatz is dating his little sister Maya, so that's who's on the phone there. They do long distance, but Ignatz is very sweet and loyal as I'm sure you could guess."

Byleth smiled. "That's sweet." Her eyes wandered the party until they landed on Hilda again who was tucked against Lorenz's side this time. She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know that was a thing," she said quietly to Claude.

He followed her gaze and laughed. "Oh man, that's a heck of a story. They've been together for almost three years now though, so I guess it's working."

Byleth was about to press him for details when she felt a tug on the arm that Claude wasn't occupying. She turned, so that she didn't spill her drink, and found herself face to face with a grinning, pink-cheeked Annette.

"Hi, Byleth! I didn't know you were coming!" Annette said cheerfully.

Byleth smiled at her former student. "Yeah, it was kind of last minute, but I'm glad to be here." She sipped her drink and was momentarily impressed by the strength. Most university parties supplied watered-down drinks, but this was something pretty heavy-hitting.

"Claude, I bet that's your doing," said the young man standing next to Annette. He had slightly curly silver-coloured hair and bright green eyes. He was holding Annette's hand and Byleth knew she recognized him from the archery team.

Claude winked. "You bet, Ashe," he said.

"Claude!" a loud voice called suddenly, causing all four of them to turn towards the table where cups were lined up to play pong. "Just because you have a bum arm, don't think you're getting out of this!"

Byleth gave Claude a side-look. "Is that Leonie?"

He laughed. "Yeah. We make a decent pong pair and even the bad arm," he shifted the arm that was still in the sling, "apparently doesn't get me out of that."

Byleth took another long drink and looked back at Annette and Ashe. "I'm good here. Go play."

Claude grinned at her and Byleth felt her stomach warm. She turned back to Annette and Ashe and took another sip of her drink.

"I'm Byleth, by the way. I think we met very briefly once."

Ashe nodded. "Yeah, I think you came to an archery comp. You were the Archaeology TA, right?"

Annette nodded. "Yup! And she works with us on the excavation process."

Ashe brightened. "Oh yeah! That whole thing is so cool."

A girl with a long dark purple braid suddenly popped out of the crowd and grinned at them. "Annette, may I be borrowing your boyfriend? Claude challenged my pride and I intend to be showing him his place."

Annette laughed and nudged Ashe. "Of course, Petra. I'll come and watch too!"

Ashe and Petra immediately headed for where Claude had vanished off to. Annette lingered for a moment longer, glancing between Byleth and the table. "You should come watch," she suggested lightly.

Before Byleth could reply, Hilda had reappeared at her side, linking arms with her again. "I've got her from here, Annie. Go watch Ashe and Petra destroy Claude and Leonie again."

Annette grinned and vanished into the group of people. Hilda peered into Byleth's almost empty cup and immediately steered her back towards the kitchen to get a refill. She filled Byleth's cup and grabbed one of her own, waving at Ignatz and Raphael who were sitting in the corner still talking over Skype to Raph's sister. Hilda then dragged her out the opposite side of the kitchen into what was probably supposed to be a dining room. Ingrid, Dimitri, their friend, and a girl with faint, silvery-blue hair were sitting on the far side of the room, chatting, but they didn't seem to pay Hilda and Byleth any mind.

"So, you and Claude are pretty tight, aren't you?" Hilda said, turning back to her.

Byleth took a sip of her drink. "We're friends," she said. "He pestered me a bunch last semester until we started meeting up to discuss my research. Most of what we talk about is history related anyways," she deflected.

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Look, I've hooked up with Claude. I know what infatuated Claude looks like."

Byleth didn't know what was more surprising to her: the fact that Hilda and Claude had hooked up or the fact that Hilda thought Claude liked her. Hilda noted the surprise on Byleth's expression and laughed.

"Oh come on, you haven't heard that story? In first year, Claude and I were flirting it up when we both met Lorenz. Lorenz and I also hit it off. Claude and Lorenz naturally hated each other, but once they found out I was kind of seeing both of them they united into hating me for all of like two weeks until Claude got his head out of his ass and Lorenz and I had a chat. I'm kind of the whole reason this house exists since Lorenz and Claude hated each other before they both united against me."

Byleth laughed shortly unintentionally. "Wow, not sure that's something to be proud of."

Hilda shrugged, smirking. "Claude's my best friend and Lorenz and I have been steady for a couple of years. I think it worked out okay."

Byleth giggled lightly. "Sure, sure." Her gaze wandered to the other side of the room where there were the other four. "I know Ingrid and Dimitri, obviously, but who are the others?"

Hilda followed her gaze. "That's Felix, Ingrid's boyfriend, and Marianne, my best friend and totally not Dimitri's girlfriend." She said the last part sarcastically and Byleth smiled faintly.

Marianne was very pretty and Dimitri kept casting her quiet, affectionate looks. They certainly looked like a couple. Felix and Ingrid, on the other hand, were much less lovey-dovey looking, but they certainly looked comfortable with each other.

"Drama with that is that Ingrid was dating Felix's brother Glenn when he died. Ingrid and Felix got together a couple of months ago after a lot of dancing around," Hilda continued.

The story clicked in Byleth's head. She lowered her voice to an almost whisper. "Glenn died in the same crash that killed Dimitri's parents, right?"

Hilda nodded. "Yeah," her smile dropped a bit, "it's pretty sad." She shook her head and turned her full attention back to Byleth. "But, I'm here to bother you about Claude! What's really going on with you guys?"

Byleth shook her head. "Nothing, Hilda, I swear. We're friends." A spark of pain flared behind her eyes and Byleth grit her teeth. Her headaches had been more frequent and much worse since the crash and she had been hoping to get through the night without any more of them.

She downed the rest of her drink and felt the alcohol sting her throat as she swallowed. Hilda finally seemed to take the hint that there was nothing more to talk about and shrugged. She bid Byleth a farewell and darted back to the rest of the party to play hostess. Byleth cast Ingrid and Dimitri's group a glance and felt another headache rip through her mind.

She shook her head and slid out the side door of the dining room into the main hallway. Annette and Ashe had apparently migrated there and were chatting with Linhardt and a boy Byleth faintly recalled to be Linhardt's boyfriend. Pain pulsed in her skull again and she winced faintly. She needed to get somewhere quiet. She quickly slipped past the group and found a flight of stairs leading up. There appeared to be a glorious absence of loud music and chatter from upstairs so she headed up, massaging her temples as she went.

She closed her eyes briefly at the top of the stairs and almost keeled over as another sudden sharp pain flared behind her eyes. She saw white for a moment and something that she could have sworn was Annette and Ingrid's boyfriend Felix. Byleth staggered into the nearest room which happened to be the bathroom and sunk onto the floor. She leant against the cool bathtub and rubbed her temples.

A few more images flashed in her brain: Ashe and Petra wearing strange clothes, Lorenz and Marianne sharing tea, Ingrid riding horseback with a man who looked like her other friend Sylvain, and Dimitri extending a hand to Byleth with a soft smile on his face. She exhaled heavily and rubbed at her head, trying to get the images to fade.

"Byleth?" a voice called softly. She snapped her head up and saw Claude standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking concerned. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, sealing out most of the noise from the party. "Are you alright?"

She smiled faintly as her headache pulsed again, but more weakly. "Just a headache. I needed a breather."

Claude drifted towards her and sat next to her, leaning his back against the tub as well. "I get that," he admitted. "Linhardt said he saw you heading up here and I figured I'd come to check in."

Byleth nodded. "Ah," she agreed faintly. The headache faded more until she was almost feeling like herself again, just definitely drunker than she normally was. "Did you and Leonie win?"

Claude snorted. "Nope. Ashe and Petra murdered us. Leonie mentioned that you guys know each other though."

Byleth smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah, she knew my dad pretty well."

Claude winced. "Sorry."

Byleth shrugged. "It happens," she mumbled in reply.

"Are you really okay though? You kind of looked like you were in pain."

She shifted so that their shoulders were pressing against each other. "Headaches," she explained. "At first it was just the usual stuff I've been getting since the crash, but," she trailed off, not sure if she should mention the roiling feeling of wrong that had settled in her stomach since she'd first arrived at the party.

Claude twisted so that they were making eye contact, but their shoulders remained a point of contact. "But?" he prompted softly.

She sighed. She had trusted him with many of her strange dreams and feelings in the last eight months so she didn't see a reason to hide anything else from him. "I feel like everything is wrong. Everyone is talking to the wrong people. Everyone is acting strangely."

"The wrong people?"

"Annette and Felix, Ingrid and Sylvain, Lysithea and Linhardt, Lorenz and Marianne, Ashe and Petra," she listed off-handedly. "That feels right. Not, whatever is actually happening."

Claude's brows furrowed. "Strange," he mumbled. "Do you think this has anything to do with the dreams?"

Byleth dropped her gaze down and shrugged. "I have no idea," she confessed. Her head was starting to feel foggier and less painful. Claude's solid presence next to her felt comfortable.

She looked up and was almost taken aback by the startling green of his eyes. They had made eye contact dozens and dozens of times since they'd met, but he'd never induced the strange warmth in her stomach that she was feeling right then. She exhaled shallowly and studied his face.

Claude's breathing echoed hers as his eyes flicked over her face noticeably. She could smell a hint of alcohol on his breath and she knew that she herself was fairly tipsy, but she couldn't remove herself from the moment.

"Is this wrong too?" he asked quietly. Something unreadable and serious flashed in his eyes and Byleth's chest contracted a bit.

"Yes," she confessed just as softly.

"You're impossible to read sometimes," he said. "But," he inhaled slowly and Byleth watched his gaze noticeably dart to her lips, "I still think I'm crazy about you."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were warm and softer than she was expecting and he reciprocated the kiss immediately. It wasn't the best angle with them still awkwardly shoulder to shoulder and with their backs against the bathtub, but the kiss made something simmer warmly in her stomach. His shoulder shifted and his right hand, the uninjured one, came up and cupped her face as he pulled back to breathe before kissing her again.

Byleth felt a twinge of stiffness in her neck and a tightness in her chest due to the lack of air, so she leaned back, gasping. Looking into Claude's heavy, green-eyed gaze, the words he'd spoken to her sunk in and Byleth's whole being twisted viciously with a sense of wrong. She jerked back away from his touch, her neck protesting the movement. Her palms thudded against the bathroom tile to catch her weight before she tipped to the ground.

Claude looked startled. "By," he started gently.

Byleth's breathing sped up. It was shallow and fast and the room suddenly felt too warm. "I have to go," she said suddenly.

Hurt flashed across Claude's expression as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring her alcohol-induced wobbliness and the headache that had sprung back to the front of her mind. He looked like he was about to protest again so she bolted.

Infirmary, Garreg Mach Monastery - 2 Lone Moon, 7 AU

Byleth came to feeling like she had been trampled by a pegasus. Her body was aching and there was a sharper, razor-like throb from the side of her ribs. She blinked and saw a faint glimmer of candlelight nearby. There was a blurry figure sitting next to her, dabbing a cool cloth on her forehead. The cloth jerked back as Byleth blinked again and she heard a familiar gasp.

"Professor!" the familiar voice exclaimed and Byleth's vision cleared enough that she saw Annette sitting next to her, looking incredibly relieved.

Byleth's throat felt dry and sore when she tried to speak. Her words came out breathy and almost as a whisper. "What happened?"

For a second, her mind was blank, but when Annette's features twisted into deeper concern, the memories came rushing back. Byleth jolted and immediately tried to sit up, ignoring the lingering pain in her side.

"Dimitri!" she exclaimed.

"Please, Professor!" Annette said sternly, gently pressing her back into the mattress. "You were very hurt. You need to stay down."

Byleth listened, settling back against the mattress, but a cold fear spread to her limbs. "Where is Dimitri?" she asked again.

Annette sighed slowly. "He's going to be alright. Don't worry."

The cold panic and fear drained away slowly and she tilted her head a bit, checking out the rest of the room. There was no one else in the infirmary besides the two of them, but one of the other beds looked like it had had some recent use.

"Where is he?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I believe he's with Sylvain, Ashe, Dedue, and Felix," Annette answered. She furrowed her brows at Byleth. "You were both hit with powerful dark magic spells, Professor, but I think the fact that he wasn't also stabbed helped with that."

Annette fetched Byleth some water and sent a monk to fetch Mercedes while she answered more of Byleth's questions. She had been unconscious for almost two full days. Dimitri had woken up in the afternoon yesterday. They hadn't caught any of the people who had attacked them. No one else was hurt or targeted in the attack. The perpetrators hadn't left much of a trace besides the magic traces on Byleth and Dimitri after they'd been knocked down.

Byleth recalled the blade suddenly. "I need to talk to Sylvain," she said breathlessly.

"You're not going anywhere until I check you over, Professor," Mercedes called from the entrance to the infirmary. "That magic did a number on both you and Dimitri, but I've never seen anyone react to it quite like you did, Professor."

Byleth frowned. "Annette, please fetch my husband and the others. Especially Sylvain. It's important."

Annette nodded and Mercedes took her place, asking Byleth a million questions about how she was feeling and if she was in any pain. After another Heal spell and a few more swallowed herbs, Mercedes checked the sword wound. It was almost completely healed, but the healer let out a startled gasp that had Byleth twisting her shirt up further to try and see what Mercedes had seen.

She had basically removed it when she saw it: a burn scar kind of in the shape of a star right over her heart. The skin was tender, but the burn appeared to have healed itself and Byleth recalled the intensity of the wave of white magic she had released to repel their attackers.

"What is that?" she asked quietly.

Mercedes shook her head, looking puzzled. "It looks like a white magic burn. Dimitri didn't mention they used white magic too."

Byleth exhaled slowly. She knew where the burn had come from, but how was she supposed to tell her dear friend that it had been self-inflicted by the power sizzling in her veins that was eating her alive. Before anything else could be said, there was a sharp rap at the door and Byleth yanked her shirt down, making herself decent.

"Come in," she called before Mercedes could ask for a bit more time.

Dimitri burst into the room and hightailed it to her side. He basically fell to his knees next to her and Byleth saw the hurt and pain and love in his gaze as he reached up to touch her face. "You're alright," he breathed.

"You're okay too," she replied, lifting one of her own hands to cup his jaw.

Their moment was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of their friends and Dimitri quickly stood and pulled up a chair next to Byleth's bed. He and Mercedes helped her sit up so that she could face all of her friends. The entire group of her former students were present, minus Felix and Ingrid.

"Sylvain," Byleth started, focussing on the northern Faerghus noble. "Has Sreng ever struck this far south?"

He seemed alarmed at her question and shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "They press at the border, but I've never heard of them striking at the heart of Fódlan."

Byleth exhaled warily. "How has the border been?"

He frowned. "Chaotic. They come and go, but I had believed we were reaching an agreement recently since I took over for my father."

"The blade had Sreng lettering," Byleth confessed.

Annette's breath hitched. "What?" she squeaked.

Dimitri looked troubled at the news. "It did?"

Byleth closed her eyes, conjuring the memory of it. She was quite sure. "It did."

Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed. "The Sreng people are warriors. They do a lot of weapons trading. Perhaps this was an attempt to frame them."

Dedue folded his arms and looked down, something dark crossing his expression. "This information mustn't leave this room. There will be slaughters if it gets out."

"Yes," Seteth agreed as he strode into the room. He dipped his head to both Byleth and Dimitri in respect. "It is good to see you are recovering Your Grace, Your Majesty. I agree with Dedue here that we must not let the word of a potential attack from Sreng get out. In fact, I would recommend we try to limit the spread of the attack entirely. It would not do well to know that someone got close enough to render both of you unconscious."

Ashe nodded. "I asked Petra and our guards to return to Brigid without me. If the information does get out, I would like her not to be here. Foreign powers interfering at a time like this would be bad." He looked guilty for a moment and Byleth knew it was the guilt of leaving his wife so soon after they had been wed as equals in Brigid. "I hope my skills are still welcomed here," he added quietly.

Byleth nodded. "Ashe, you are always welcome. I agree with Seteth, though." She looked around the room at her trusted friends. "News of the attack does not leave this room," she said sternly.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Garreg Mach Monastery - 9 Lone Moon, 7 AU

Byleth was in the market when she heard the crowing of a wyvern. She snapped her head up and spotted the white beast descending towards the stable, followed by a brown wyvern. Her lips parted in surprise. She knew that wyvern and she had no idea what it was doing here. She smiled politely to the vendor she had been speaking with and excused herself, making quickly towards the stables.

Claude was assisting his two companions down off of the second mount by the time she had arrived. Byleth's steps faltered and she stared at the Almyran King for a long time. Claude helped Lysithea down and said something quietly to the third new arrival, Linhardt, before he turned and finally noticed her. He grinned.

"Hello, Your Grace," he said lightly. There was a familiar teasing lilt to his voice and Byleth could only stare dumbly at him.

"What are you doing here, Claude?" she demanded after a moment.

His grin twisted into a sly smirk. "I figured you could use a dark magic specialist and someone who has some ideas who might be interesting to you," he offered, gesturing to Lysithea and then Linhardt.

Lysithea brushed off her skirt and sent Claude a dirty look. "He's being evasive, as always, but he did bring us some interesting news."

Byleth furrowed her brow and stared at Claude again. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "I'm good at knowing things."

Byleth scowled at him. "This information wasn't supposed to leave the monastery grounds," she said firmly.

Claude winked. "Good thing we're on the grounds then." Byleth scowled, but he continued before she could interrupt him. "Gather your group. This information is probably more than you're expecting."

They met in Byleth's study. Dedue, Mercedes, Ashe, Dimitri, Claude, Lysithea, Seteth, and Linhardt stood and sat around the room each wearing an expression of varied discomfort and concern. Sylvain, Felix, and Annette had had to return home for their children's sakes and Sylvain was also looking into the Sreng lead.

Byleth turned the paper in her hands over. It bore Hubert's writing and detailed the activities of the dark group that had assisted in the Empire during the Unification War. Linhardt had presented it to her along with a few more just like it that he had recovered from the Vestra estate after the war. Apparently he had been doing his own research from Ordelia territory where he had settled with Lysithea after the two of them successfully had Lysithea's Crests removed and dissolved her noble house.

Claude, of course, had gotten wind of their work and the attack at Garreg Mach and had apparently drawn a thread connecting the two. He had brought them to the monastery to discuss their research and Lysithea's past experience with them. She shared her horrible childhood trauma where she had had her second Crest implanted and Dimitri's breath caught when she had described the fading of her hair's pigment and the weakness the second Crest had imposed upon her.

The group, dubbed Those Who Slither in the Dark, according to Hubert's notes, were apparently vehemently against the children of the goddess and had fantastical weaponry and dark magic mages, including Cornelia and Solon. Dedue and Dimitri had both stiffened when Byleth had read about Cornelia and her involvement in what Hubert described as the orchestrated Tragedy of Duscur.

Byleth placed the last letter down on her desk and frowned. "Claude, you're saying these people are the ones who attacked Dimitri and I?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but it certainly seems more likely than a Sreng invasion and assault to me. If I had to guess, I would say their target was just you, Byleth, and that Dimitri was meant more as a personal attack. If you give Linhardt and me more time, we could probably work with Hubert's notes more and figure out where they're hiding. Then we can remove them and remove the threat entirely."

"No," Seteth cut in sharply. His face was pale and Byleth bit her lip as she studied her advisor. "Doing so will only create bigger targets on both His Majesty and Her Grace. If you pursue this, they could only come after you harder and if you're wrong, then you are chasing empty threads into the wind and letting the true culprits get away."

Lysithea scowled. "We're not wrong. The Hades spell that struck Byleth and Dimitri was strong enough to take them both down. I know that spell," she asserted. "I have met very few people who could cast it at that strength. We're not wrong."

"Even so," Dedue said, "I agree with Seteth. We can look into it, but His Majesty and Her Grace should not be leading any charges. It endangers them too much."

Dedue's compromise settled the animosity in the room, but Byleth felt frustrated. She was tired of being protected. These attackers had tried to kill both her and her husband in their home. She wanted to remove them personally. Dimitri looked conflicted and Byleth instantly understood. He felt the same way she did, but he obviously did not want to put her in any more danger, just like how she wanted to keep him from further danger. Claude had said the target was likely just her, so she wanted to protect Dimitri as much as she wanted.

She took a deep breath. "I give you permission to look into this further," she conceded. "But, no one will be taking any offensive action until we reassess."

Dimitri frowned at her, but he didn't argue. Dedue and Seteth looked placated and Mercedes and Ashe nodded in agreement as well. Linhardt gave her a cryptic look but didn't argue. Lysithea huffed and narrowed her eyes. Claude simply studied her, his expression unreadable. Byleth inclined her chin and refused to show her hand.

"Now, I believe this discussion has concluded. We should all go for dinner." She smiled at Lysithea and Linhardt. "We have friends visiting, after all."

Her companions accepted her suggestion and began making their way out of the room. Claude and Dimitri lingered until it was only the three of them left. Dimitri looked between her and Claude twice, but the Almyran King didn't even flinch.

"My love," Byleth said gently, "I would like to speak with Claude briefly about handling private matters of state. We'll join you in a few minutes."

Dimitri looked only partially convinced, but he kissed Byleth gently on the lips and made his way out of the room, leaving her alone with Claude. Claude raised an eyebrow at the door as it shut behind Dimitri.

"Private matters?" he inquired.

Byleth took a deep breath and folded her hands atop the desk. "We're going to finish this," she said firmly. "We stamp them out and remove the threat as soon as you figure out where they would be."

Claude's eyes narrowed. "You didn't send everyone away to tell me you're going against the direct council of your closest companions."

"No," Byleth agreed. "I sent everyone away to tell you we're going to do this without Dimitri."

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unforgetabelle · 5 years

Text

FINALLY I’m getting around to editing and posting some of the stuff I’ve been working on over the last ehhh...year? (This one was started in Nov 2017 as my doc reminded me. eekk -_-)

Anywhoo, it’s a continuation of my series of stand alone stories that fit together (Coming Around Again), so I hope you enjoy!

____________________________________________

A New Start

ao3 | fanfiction

Marinette stared down in disbelief, struck motionless by the object in her hand. Something meaningless turned precious in the blink of an eye. She almost hadn’t bought it, thinking she was just stressed...crazy...imagining things. It seemed wasteful. A waste of plastic. Was it even recyclable? She didn’t even know! Clearly she was not ready for this responsibility. Was it too soon? She didn’t feel prepared. What if she was horrible at it?

Her mind started to spiral and her knees gave out. She caught herself on the edge of the bathtub and sat there. Setting the pregnancy test on the closed toilet seat, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Then she imagined his face.

Adrien when she tells him the news, shock morphing into exuberance as he picks her up and swings her in a circle...Adrien singing in his horribly off-tune voice to her growing stomach...Adrien disheveled from lack of sleep, rocking a baby in a sunny-yellow nursery...Adrien zooming a spoon like an airplane into the giggling mouth of a baby, pureed carrots somehow smeared across his smiling face...Adrien effortlessly braiding their daughter’s hair on her first day of school, the two singing along for the millionth time to a child’s song...Adrien shouting on the sidelines of her soccer game, pride in his eyes as she falls but gets right back up again… Adrien shopping for prom dresses with the keen eye of a fashion mogul’s son and spending an obscene amount of money on the one that is just perfect...Adrien clapping and cheering louder than anyone could imagine as she walks across the stage and accepts her university diploma...Adrien, gray and distinguished, walking their daughter down the aisle, tears in his eyes as his lips linger lovingly on her forehead before giving her away…

She opened her eyes and looked back down at the stick, her hands coming to rest on her still-flat abdomen and her breathing normalizing again. She may not know if she could handle this, but together, they could.

“Marinette?” She looked up to see Tikki’s head peeking through the bathroom door. Her eyes immediately on her chosen’s face, trying to decipher the riot of emotions there, until Tikki’s gaze fell to the test in front of her and tears spring to her eyes.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked again, her tone irrevocably changed as she regarded her girl with shining eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Tikki,” Marinette said out loud for the first time, her voice shaky with disbelief but lips turning into a hesitant smile. She watched through a watery gaze herself as Tikki pummeled into her face, the two laughing joyously at the wonderful news.

Tikki floated back, her face glowing with excitement as she bobbed in the air.

“You’re going to be a marvelous mother, Marinette.”

“You really think so?” Marinette let her insecurity infuse her tone, looking at her friend with a worried gaze.

“Of course! Is that what you’ve been doing in here so long? Quietly panicking?” Tikki fixed her with her all-knowing gaze and Marinette just grimaced in response. Her kwami rolled her eyes, affectionately tugging a strand of Marinette’s hair.

“Okay, up, up! We need to go tell Adrien!”

“What, now?” Marinette laughed, her own excitement building at Tikki’s response. “He’s on patrol,” she reminded her friend, remembering Adrien’s strict orders to stay home and rest when she mentioned feeling a bit queasy earlier that night.

“So, find him,” Tikki emphasized her words. “Let him tell you what an amazing mother you will be instead of silently stewing here in a pot of irrational fears.”

“I’m not stewing,” Marinette muttered, letting Tikki pull her out into the living room. Her kwami just gave her a sarcastic look and Marinette sighed.

“Okay, okay, fine. You win,” she acquiesced and Tikki smiled triumphantly. “Tikki, spots on!”

Sparing a moment to glance out their back window--to make sure no one had decided today to start taking in the sights of the back alley--Ladybug confirmed the the coast was clear before lassoing the chimney of the adjacent building and pulling herself up to roof. She broke out into a sprint immediately. Even all these years later, there was nothing quite like the feeling of running full-speed across the rooftops of her city. Feet light and wind in her hair, she craved the burn in her muscles as she pushed them to their enhanced, miraculous limit.

She wondered how this would change. She knew enough to not think that she would have to stop her patrols completely. Exercise wouldn’t affect the baby, although the citizens of Paris might be shocked to see a pregnant Ladybug swinging along the Parisian cityscape. She’d have to back off from any dangerous situations for a while, but Chat was more than capable of handling akuma victims, and she could be close by to cleanse them. Maybe Fu even had some ideas about what to do. This couldn’t be the first time a miraculous holder needed to take a brief hiatus.

Except, it wouldn’t exactly be brief. Newborns took a lot of time and effort too, and it wasn’t like they could call a babysitter every time an akuma appeared. Not only would that look suspicious, but the pesky butterflies had a habit of picking the most inconvenient times to appear. Maybe if they lived closer to her parents…

Ladybug mind was still negotiating internally with herself when the din finally reached her; the unmistakable sound of a battle far too familiar to her ears. She ran faster, reaching the clearing and spotting Chat in no time, but this was different from any battle she’d seen before.

The streets were clear on the late summer night, no civilians even hovering at the edge of the fight to watch, and when Marinette finally recognized Chat’s opponent, she understood why. He wasn’t battling just another akuma. He was battling Hawkmoth himself, and as she watched him block his assailant’s parries, always on the defensive, Ladybug realized something worse.

Chat was losing.

~*~

Chat could concentrate on nothing other than the adrenaline that coursed through his entire body and he cursed himself for allowing the whim of nostalgia that brought him to this moment. With Marinette ill, and him patrolling along for the first time in recent memory, Chat found himself tracing an old familiar route from his first years as Chat, which inevitably took him by his childhood home. It had been four years since he’d seen his father last. After their falling out over his mother’s ring, Adrien never saw Gabriel again. He received an unfeeling card every birthday, and Gabriel had sent a gift and note to the wedding, but other than in fashion magazines, his own father’s face had become a relic of the past. So, as he vaulted past the austere stone house, Chat couldn’t help but take a quick look.

Maybe it was curiosity or some lingering nostalgia for a time when the house had held some joy, but Chat found himself hopping the fence and taking in his old surroundings with the strange disjointed view of his older self. Approaching the house from a completely different angle than he ever had before, his gaze caught a flash of purple light from the rose window at the rear of the property. Strange, he thought, how you could live somewhere for so long and completely miss design elements. Chat must’ve noticed that window before, but he couldn’t conjure it up in his memory. He supposed he’d spent so many years trying to escape this place, he’d never really gotten to know his own home.

Movement in the window caught his eye again, and Chat couldn’t help but give into his curiosity, scaling the large plane tree in the back yard until he had a clear view into the window.

What he saw there changed everything.

The man on the other side of the window stood in the center of the barren room, framed dramatically in the light of the moon through the ornately shaped glass. His eyes were immediately on Chat.

Whether it was the movement in the tree or his glowing green eyes that gave him away, Chat didn’t know, and he didn’t stay to find out, jumping from the tree and vaulting as far away as he possibly could. When he reached a small empty plaza on the edge of the arrondissement where he currently lived, he finally stopped, mind reeling with what his eyes just witnessed.

That’s where his father found him

Chat didn’t know how long he’d stood in that empty plaza, but when Hawkmoth appeared, he finally began to function again, the rage pouring through his body.

“How could you!” Chat spat, fists clenched and eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

Hawkmoth didn’t even flinch at the venom in his voice, though his eyebrow quirked in consideration, studying Chat like an interesting specimen.

“I suspected this years ago,” he intoned finally, hands resting casually together on his cane in front of him. “I thought I had disproved my theroy of you being Chat, but I should have known when I saw that ring on your finger. Apparently, my affection clouded my judgement.”

“Affection,” Chat repeated, rage giving way to pure disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

Hawkmoth sighed in exasperation.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your tantrums, son.”

“No,” Chat raised a hand, his mind finally clear. Resolve infusing in him as he regarded the man in front of him anew. This wasn’t his father. Not anymore. He’d made that choice long ago for both of them, and while it stung to know his father had been the antagonist of his entire life, it also filled him with pity. What must his father’s existence truly be like?

“No,” Chat repeated. “This isn’t about us. This is about your actions for the last decade, and it ends now.”

He took a step towards the man who was his father and held out his hand.

“Give me the miraculous, Gabriel.”

Hawkmoth’s eyes narrowed slightly as he appraised the man in front of him but made no move to surrender.

“I did this for us,” he finally said, his voice taking on an unfamiliar soft tone, and Chat steeled his will against the explanation he knew would follow. “For our family. This was the only way to save us.”

“It’s too late--”

“To save your mother.”

Hawkmoth’s words stopped Chat’s next words, but he refused to let himself be taunted with the impossible. His father was clearly unwell. This man had unknowingly and then knowingly put his own child in direct danger of akumas for years, and now he expected that same son to believe it had all been for him? For their family? Chat just shook his head sadly.

“Maman is dead,” he replied.

“Not forever,” Hawkmoth finally took a step towards him, an unnatural gleam in his eye. “I just don’t have the power yet, but with your miraculous--”

“Hawkmoth--”

“--and Ladybug’s, I’ll be able to perform the ritual--”

“Gabriel--”

“I’ve preserved her for years, planned for years--”

“Father!” Chat finally shouted, bringing his mad ramblings to an end. The shell of his father looked at him again, confusion coloring his expression when he didn’t find his own excitement reflected on his son’s face.

“Adrien, she’s not missing, that’s just what I told everyone. I can bring her back.”

“No,” Chat shook his head, voice strained as he pushed past the pain of the final confirmation that his mother was truly dead. “No, you can’t”

“I can.”

“You won’t,” Chat amended. “It’s not natural, and she wouldn’t have wanted it. I won’t allow it.”

“Allow it?” He hissed in return. Hawkmoth’s eyes morphed, tilting dangerously in a split second, and Chat finally realized just how broken his father had become.

“Give me your miraculous, father.”

“You think you can command me?” he laughed, shaking his head erratically. “You’ve always been an insolent--”

“Gabriel--”

“MY NAME IS HAWKMOTH,” he shouted with abandon. “And this ends now.”

#ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #fanfiction #unforgetabelle #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #all the ships #part 1

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lullabyes22-blog · 5 years

Text

Fanfic Gift

“Time to eat!”

Before the words left her mouth, Diva’s chopsticks began to move on a collision course with her lunch.

It was the first night in her apartment in Osaka. She began to unpack her boxes and luggage during the entire day and only had a few items left to unpack. She had chosen a decent apartment to live in, though honestly her father believed she could have done better and it was mostly out of dire desperation to live on her own. It wasn’t the young children running jumping upstairs or the old man shouting at a passerby in the hallway for playing his music too loud that made her fall in love right away with the apartment. It was the fresh start that she needed to begin a life for herself and the distance from her family. Moving out of her parent’s home was a little stressful, she loved them dearly yet she didn’t want to live with them for the rest of her life. Especially her younger siblings, the twins.

Diva put in her earbuds and made her new bed, aligned her books, and stocked up on the family photos. Diva had lived in Yokohama, Japan previously with her family, however after wanting to see more of the world and earn a since of independence she moved out to Osaka where the six hour seventeen minute drive was pure bliss. Sadly, she had left behind a great number of friends there whom she missed terribly. She was already depressing herself with memories of her classmates. A new move meant that she would have to attend a whole new high school with people she didn’t even know. The whole idea was terrifying in itself.

She picked up the flyer beside her, staring at the large print. Sakuranomiya High School. She hadn’t really looked up much information on it though she figured it would be a decent school just like the last one. At her other school she’d been a top student excelling in all subjects, practically at the head of her class. Her teachers were saddened to see her go. Especially Etsuko, her best friend since she’d been in Yokohama for those years. Then again Diva didn’t remember much about her early years due to a childhood incident that left her amnesiac. Her ever so concerned parents reassured her that all of her old memories would return one day. It bothered her that some part of her memories were locked away, that she couldn’t tap into them at all. Her psychiatrist claimed that some sort of traumatic event would unlock all of her memories.

Sometimes Diva dreamt about a place that depending on the weather would be bone chilling cold or lave hot; stones pressing into her skin and…footsteps. Someone running down a hallway or corridor and the clang of a lock falling to the floor…then nothing. What was it?

She removed her earbuds, paused her music and walked over to her laptop. Opening the thin notebook she typed in her password, accessed her video chat and waited. She promised her mom she would video call her once she’d been settled into her humble abode. It would be a relief to see her mother’s kind face. She waited a few minutes then a kind face framed by ebony hair popped up on her screen.

“Diva, my sweet baby.” her mother’s soft voice announced through the speakers. “How are things in your new apartment?”

“It’s great mom. The view is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Well I wish I were there with you baby. I’m glad you’re safe and sound, mommy got worried.”

Diva tucked a strand of dark hair behind her hair. Her mother was overly protective as well as a fierce mama bear. No one messed with her kids and got away with it. Once one of the twins had been hit with a ball at school one day by a gang of bullies. Not being one to tell, her brother Tatsuya confided in her which had been a big mistake because Diva’s tongue slipped to her mother about the hit. Her mother arrived at school one day with the twins in tow demanding one of them tell her who hit Tatsuya. Finally, Kohaku-the oldest twin born two minutes before Tatsuya-wagged his tongue. A bigger boy named Gin was the culprit.

Long story short Gin never bothered the twins again. Their mom could be quiet scary when she needed to be, she even scared their father not too long ago.

“How’s dad?”

“He’s still upset that you moved in that crummy apartment building. He wanted you to finish school down here, go off to a university.”

“Of course…” Diva sighed. “I happen to like it down here. School doesn’t start until next week and I found a job here that I love.”

“You did?” Her mother’s onyx eyes lit up like Christmas trees. “What kind of job?”

“I’m working as a waitress at a steak house,” she replied cheerfully. Diva loved working she wasn’t the type of girl to be pampered and spoiled by her parents or use their money for her own personal use. School wasn’t as boring as balls as her best friend Etsuko once quoted.

“Can I talk to dad?”

“Sorry dear, he’s away at work at the moment. Would you like for me to leave a message?”

“Work again, huh?” Diva remarked trying not to sound upset.

“I know you miss him, honey. Maybe sometime this week or the next the two of you can chat it up.”

“I would hope so. Oh, mom there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What would that be?”

“Before I left home, I was in the attic looking for old photos of myself for a school project. I noticed that there weren’t any photos of me as a baby or even as a young girl. Just pictures of me today. There are pictures of the twins from infancy to their pre-teens now.”

Her mother was silent for the next few minutes, her eyes shifted from the other side of the screen, she bit on her thumb nervously.

“Mom?”

“Sweetheart, a long time ago there was a fire that pretty much burned all of our family photos. Your father and I tried to save the photos but they were so horribly burnt there was no need to keep them.”

“I don’t remember a fire…”

“Diva, dear you don’t remember a lot of things.”

“You’re right I suppose.”

“I’m sorry if I came off rude.”

“No it’s fine. I was just curious as to why there weren’t any photos of me from my early childhood…”

“Don’t worry Diva it will all work out soon.”

She blinked not saying anything.

“Diva?” her mother asked.

“I have to go now…I love you.” She didn’t give her mother a chance to respond as she had closed the top of her laptop shutting it down. She had been asking her mother that same question for the past two years, if not her then her father. And it was always a different story as to why there weren’t photos of herself during her early childhood. Her photos had either been lost during their moves, the family had moved about ten times, they had been eaten by moths or gotten wet during a flood, causing them to mold. They kept telling her these things until eventually she stopped asking. It would just be nice to have some semblance of photographic memories of herself to hold onto.

“I don’t really know much about anything.”

Diva had no recollection of any event in her life that had occurred more than one year ago.

Simply labeling it amnesia seemed too exaggerated, and for the most part her day-to-day life wasn’t all that inconvenienced by it. However, it was times like this that she had a sense of loss for the memories she no longer had. The worst part about it was feeling like she didn’t know whom she was most days.

“It’s been a whole year and there’s so much I don’t know about…it’s frustrating.”

That’s weird. A fire destroyed my photos? Wouldn’t she have told me this long before instead of now? Why wait this long?

Diva changed into a pair of shorts and T-shirt, pulling her long raven hair into a braid and unpacked another box of her belongings.

Next door she could hear her neighbor throw something heavy in one corner of their room and children running up and down the halls. Suddenly a knocking came onto her door. Perplexed the ravenette frowned wondering who could be at her door this late into the hour.

Walking over to the door she peered through the peephole and unlatched her door to, opening so that she could get a full view of the stranger at her door. She was not prepared for the man on the other side. He was rather tall so much so that he dwarfed her own stature. His dark hair was so black it made Diva look like a blonde and his eyes, those grey slated pupils were staring at her without so much as blinking.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“I hope I’m not keeping up too much noise, neighbor.”

“Oh no, you’re fine. I’m doing a lot of unloading myself. I just moved here.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thank you,” she said smiling.

submitted by (lupitabadu)

Ah! Thank you so much! This is adorable! c: I enjoy the parallels between Light-Novel Saya, and the fact that Diva has a loving family (for once). Also the neighbor-boy is totally Haji, so that promises upcoming drama…

#blood plus #diva #oc #Fanfiction #rd ward #lupita writes #submission

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kathrynmaslow · 6 years

Text

Love Lies 4/15

Summary: Ever since Emma was 13, she knew she had the ability to destroy people if she wanted to, and some days, she really wanted to. After being forced to go to Greenwood Academy following a traumatizing event in her childhood that brought to the surface her ability to manipulate fire, she never thought she would be free of the place. So for nearly 10 years, she lived a solitary existence with the exception of her best friends, but that was all about to change. Killian Jones had just been sentenced to attend the university campus at Greenwood Academy after an accident at sea caused him to be dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s royal Navy and lose his hand. He doesn’t know what to think about these newfound powers and what they spell for the rest of his now not-so-normal life. But a chance encounter one day has the ability to change all of that. A story about love and redemption between two people that shows, if you have the right person beside you, you can find a light in the darkness. Rating: M Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence/Death, Brief mention of Childhood Abuse/Sexual Assault, Mild Sexual Content

Chapter Notes: Chapter 4 has arrived! I thought I wouldn’t actually have time to post today since I had to make a 6 hour drive back from one of my friend’s weddings, but looks like I was able to get back into town sooner than I expected. Thanks to the Mods for being flexible and allowing me to post tomorrow if needed. I figured this chapter, since I haven’t done so already, I would clue you into the meaning behind the stories title! It is actually a song title, “Love Lies” by Khalid and Normani. I found the lyrics of the song to fit so well to this story that I couldn’t think of a better chapter title than that song.

This chapter is actually from Killian’s point of view, so we get to peak into his head and find out a little bit about what he is thinking about Greenwood academy and his thoughts on Emma as well! Thanks again as always to my beta @daveyjacobsthepotterhead and my artist @princesse-swan, I couldn’t have asked for two better collaborators on this project!

Read on FF

Catch up on Tumblr: One Two Three

Art by @princesse-swan here

Enjoy!

Chapter 4 Killian hated this god forsaken school, or whatever the hell they decided this glorified prison was supposed to be.

He hated that he was sent here after his hearing with the Royal Navy.

That he was now half a world away from his brother.

And he hated that he didn’t have control over his own life anymore.

Ever since the incident that got him marshalled by the Navy, dishonorably discharged, and exiled to this rubbish school, he had been decidedly unhappy with the direction that his life was spiraling.

But then again, in comparison to that, maybe sitting through his Introductory Biology course was the least horrible thing that he could be doing right now.

Shuffling his notebook around to try and start a new page while the professor droned on about the Krebs cycle seemed to create an unnecessary amount of noise. Still not used to only operating with one hand, and Greenwood not having approved the production of a working prosthetic hand for him, Killian found the most frustrating things to be something that used to be easy before he lost his hand.

And the way the glove that they had fitted his other hand with didn’t make life any easier, since he didn’t have the fine motor skills that he was used to. But then again, ever since they fitted it; and removed those horrible iron gloves that made his already concussed head spin and stomach flip, he hadn’t felt a single rumbling of that oozing darkness inside him.

The darkness that had blotted out the world that day and obscured everything on that ship-

Killian stopped that thought in its tracks. He wasn’t going to dwell on what had gotten him stuck here in the first place. Scrambling to get the rest of the cycle written down in his notebook, he tried to focus back on the lecture in front of him.

That was a good thing at least, that he was afforded the opportunity to go to school and get a university degree. Since he had followed Liam’s footsteps into the Navy eight years ago, he had thought occasionally about stepping back a bit and going to university and getting his degree. But what had stopped him was not necessarily knowing what he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing, because whenever he looked into his future, he always saw himself spending his life at sea, traveling the world with his brother.

Glory for the Jones Brothers.

Killian sighed. Not anymore.

The professor called lecture to a close at that point, assigning the reading for the next class later in the week. Killian sighed again and placed his pen down, scrubbing his gloved hand over his eyes.

Another frustration about this damnable place, he couldn’t even feel the skin of his own hand anymore, because the glove wouldn’t come off.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a way to remove it himself, and they hadn’t said anything to him when they gave it to him about not being able to remove it.

Then again, he didn’t really care at the time, he just wanted those….poisonous gloves removed.

Working to shove all of his stuff in his bag, Killian got stuck waiting for the rest of the students in his row of the lecture pit to exit so he could stand and just dump everything into the bottom of his bag.

He could sort through it again when he got back to the prison cell they called his dorm room.

Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Killian watched as the last of the students in the pit filed out ahead of him, some throwing a weary glance at his glove. Apparently word traveled fast around this school as to who came in with some new, scary power; and that immediately made others weary of him, and others like him he supposed.

“Is everything alright Mr. Jones?” Professor Hopper asked from the front of the lecture pit.

Killian nodded his head yes in return, not really feeling like giving an oral response, and turned to head up the stairs out of the lecture pit.

“Just give them time Mr. Jones, new students take some time to get used to.” Killian paused at the words, shoulders and back tensing he was sure was meant to be reassuring.

Killian did arrive at the school a few weeks into the term, and while many professors had been very accommodating to him having extra time to make up the course work, since he was stuck here during the school breaks, the students hadn’t been as receptive. Shaking his head again, he made it up the last few steps and pushed his way out of the doors leading out of the pit and into the lobby.

He paused outside of the building, wondering where to go next. He didn’t have any more classes for the day, but he also didn’t want to spend the time holed up in his dorm room doing nothing.

As he was contemplating what to do, Killian spotted a familiar blonde head walking through the throng of students towards the library.

Smiling, Killian increased his pace to try and catch up with her.

He watched as she ducked into the front doors of the library, catching her headed to the right as the glass doors closed behind her. Killian finally made his way up the steps and into the building.

He hadn’t been to the library often since he started at the school, so he didn’t realize the sheer size of the space when he walked in after her.

To the right of the main lobby was a large study room, with dozens of tables and computers and groups of students studying. He paused just inside the entrance, hearing a handful of students grumble as they moved around him into the room, and scanned the space for her.

After a few minutes of searching, he finally spotted her at a table by herself in the corner, headphones over her ears and hunched over a notebook. Killian began weaving his way across the room over to her table, ignoring the glances that the students gave him as he walked past.

He set his bag down loudly on the floor next to hers and scrapped the chair out across from her.

She started, her pen scratching across the page of her journal, and she looked up at him, surprised.

She moved to pause her music and shifted her headphones off her ears. “Killian, this is a surprise.”

“Mind if I join you love?” He asked, gesturing to the chair he had just pulled out.

“Not at all.” She said, then looked down at the journal in front of her and scowled.

Killian looked down as he took his seat and saw the drawing that she had been working on was now marred by a harsh line of ink straight across the center of the entire page. “Terribly sorry about that, if I would have known what you were working on I wouldn’t have startled you that way.”

“I wasn’t entirely happy with the direction it was going anyway, so maybe it was for the best.” She commented, shrugging. She made to turn the page in her notebook to a fresh page when he reached out and placed his hand on her wrist to stop her.

She jerked her hand back from his as if she had been shocked. He tried not to take the action as a slight against him.

“Mind if I take a look?” Killian asked, gesturing to her notebook.

“Umm, yeah, sure.” Emma mumbled, rubbing at the bracelet on her wrist.

Eyeing her warily, seeing how jumpy she was with him all of a sudden, he slowly turned her notebook around so the bottom of the page was facing him. She had the rough outline of a woman, reaching her hand up towards the sky to grasp at something. It looked like it was turning out to be something marvelous, but he had unfortunately ruined it.

“It looks great Swan, if I hadn’t dropped in and ruined it like that it would have probably turned out to be amazing.” he said, passing the notebook back to her.

“The proportions were all off, and I don’t really like the way she is standing anyway, so maybe-”

“It really does look like something great, you have a lot of talent Emma.” She ducked her head as a beautiful blush spread across her cheeks.

“Thanks Killian, what are you doing in the library?” She asked, then cringed. “Sorry, that came out wrong, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way.”

“It’s okay, I was just looking for somewhere else to study besides my dorm room.” He said.

“Me too, that happens a lot more often than you would think.” Emma said, flipping the page of her notebook. “What are you studying?”

“Biology, Dr. Hopper was going over the Krebs cycle today and I have to admit, I didn’t listen as well as I should have. We have a test coming up next week that I will most certainly fail if I don’t make any progress.” Killian said, working to pull his textbook out of his bag. “What about you?”

“Not necessarily studying, just wanting to get out of my dorm. Also, my friends know that I don’t want to be bothered if I’m here.” Emma said nonchalantly.

Killian thought over that phrase for a second. He hadn’t had the time to make many friends at this school yet, but he didn’t really know if he had a place that he liked to go when he didn’t want to be bothered.

There really wasn’t any kind of personal space when you are deployed on a vessel in the middle of the ocean with 300 other men; so he supposed he wasn’t used to having a placed he could necessarily call his own without having to share it with anyone.

Maybe that was why his private quarters here bothered him so much.

The fact that she said she wished to be alone earlier clanged through him again. “Would you like me to leave you alone then?”

He would leave her alone if she wished, but he fervently hoped otherwise.

Emma shook her head at him, “No, you’re fine,” She said, “I know that you don’t have some ulterior motive to drop in on me like they sometimes do.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“They just don’t get me sometimes, I guess.” Emma said, “They bug me about things that they all would worry about, but that don’t necessarily apply to me. Sorry, I’m not making any sense.”

She continued to rub at her wrists in a nervous manner while she was rambling. Once she realized he was watching her, she pulled her shirt sleeves back down to cover the bracelets at her wrists.

Killian reached his hand out tentatively towards her wrist, pushing back her sleeve and lightly touching; or he hoped it was a light touch, he couldn’t tell through the glove, the bracelet at her wrist. “What are these?”

She looked down at them morosely, a look of longing in her eyes, “You obviously haven’t been here very long if you don’t know what these are.” Showing him both the bracelets on her delicate wrists, she continued. “They are suppression bracelets. They knock my powers down to a level where I can’t access them anymore.”

“You say that like you want to be able to use them again.” He stated, a question hidden in the phrase.

If he had the chance, he would never feel that rolling darkness under his skin ever again. He didn’t like feeling that out of control and lost as he did that first time his powers manifested.

“How much do you know about me Killian?” She asked, wary. He didn’t know what to make of the sudden walls going up in her expression. He didn’t think he had said anything wrong.

“No more than you have told me love.” He said honestly, trying to dispel the sudden tension.

“My powers come from fire, and I miss the warmth and life that the flames brought. The safety and protection they made me feel.” She looked saddened as she spoke, like she was talking about a long lost friend. He said as much to her.

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” She gave him a sad smile, wrapping her arms around herself a bit. Maybe that was how she tried to feel that warmth that the flames gave her again.

“Well, now that I’ve taken this conversation in a horribly morose direction, I suppose I must propose a new topic of discussion. You said you understood the Krebs Cycle?”

She hadn’t, he remembered belatedly, but he hoped she would be able to help.

Emma tucked her hair behind her right ear, and nodded her head. “Yeah, what didn’t you understand again?” Leaning towards him, she waited patiently as he worked to get the textbook open to the right section.

Turning the book around to face her, he pressed down on the binding with his shortened arm. The Diagram splayed out between the two pages was fully displayed for her. Gesturing to a section he explained how what Dr. Hopper had told them during his lecture differed from how the textbook explained it.

She gave him a small smile as he rambled on in his explanation. The haunted look still hadn’t left her eyes, but Killian vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep that look from her eyes as long as she let him.

#csbb #2018 csbb #Love Lies #My writing #captian swan #emma swan #Emma x Killian #killian jones

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supercasey · 6 years

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Twins Theory, AKA I ruin everything with my dumbass theory that makes no sense

Alright, strap in, I'mma light your asses up with my shitty fan theory that's Matpat levels of crazy/probable. I'm dubbing this theory the “Twins Theory” for reasons that will become boringly obvious as we progress.

((Huge props to @bl00dw1tch for making the Nodad Theory, which I'm gonna base a lot of this theory on. I adore that theory and it’s only reason this one exists.))

So I’ll start with just saying it outright- I have reason to believe that Skout and the (current) Nomad are twins/siblings of some sort (I’m going to go with the assumption that they’re twins throughout the theory so get ready for that). ((Putting this under a fucking readmore so I can spare the general public of my rambling))

My reasoning for this dumbass theory? Well, in episode 1 we caught a glimpse of this mystery woman:

Followed soon after with Skout appearing where the woman had been:

Now, the resemblance is absolutely uncanny, and I’ve heard plenty of theories flying around (mostly people thinking that this was an image of something the Nomad desires, aka he wants Skout to stay with him in the woods/marry him), but my favorite by far has been bl00dw1tch’s Nodad Theory, which states that the current Nomad we’re seeing in the show is NOT the original Nomad, and that he’s in fact the son of said Nomad (implying that the vision we see was a childhood memory of some kind). I feel like this makes sense (and it’s honestly preferable to a love triangle between Skout, Toth, and the Nomad. Please RT, I’m begging you, don’t start that kinda shit).

So even if we’re going with everything in the Nodad Theory, it leaves one HUGE question unanswered- why does Skout look EXACTLY like this mystery woman??? Does she just remind the Nomad of his mother? I think there’s a better- if not ludicrous- explanation for this: Skout is the Nomad’s sister/twin.

Let’s start at the beginning: long ago, as we know, El Rey began to wipe out the country/world’s entire population of magic users to feed his magic crown. Along comes a Nomad (perhaps a user of darker magics, I’ll get into my Shitty Father!Nodad rant later), who most certainly doesn’t want to get vored by a magic crown. So he flees to a remote forest, and along the way falls in love with a sweet, southern redhead. After (possibly kidnapping, I’ll get into that later) running away with her to the forest, he accidentally (or purposefully) knocks her up, and oh no, she has twins!

Twins are a handful, but they manage, and I assume it’s around the three or four years old mark that magic would start showing in either kid… but it only shows up in Nomad Jr, not Skout. Well, great. Not only does one of Nodad’s kids have magic, but the other one (seemingly) doesn’t. Now, this is where my theory splits, but I’m primarily going to go with the Shitty Dad AU for a number of reasons:

The Nomad’s Magic has, notably, been quoted to be Dark Magic. This implies that not only is there Light/Good Magic in this universe, but that the current Nomad has been taught to ONLY USE Dark Magic. Seems a bit… messed up, huh?

Why exactly is the Nomad being hunted (BESIDES the fact that El Rey wants to vore him)? Sure, El Rey obviously wants his magic, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they revealed that Nodad was a bad guy long before El Rey started fucking things up.

(FIRST Members ONLY, this bit is based on something in episode 8) Every time someone says “Hostage” in episode 8, the Nomad grabs Skout’s hand, almost like he’s doing it out if instinct. Why does he do that? Was Mystery Woman (his mom) a hostage? Was she kidnapped and forced to have Nodad’s kids? This honestly killed any chance for me that Nodad was a good guy.

Okay, back to the backstory: so Nodad’s got one out of two kids who doesn’t have magic, and as a Dark Magic user, he can’t waste his time watching some magic-less kid all day- not when he has little Nomad Jr to start training. Cue another split decision, because I could see this going one of two ways: either A, Nodad took Skout and gave her away to a passing caravan, or B, Mystery Woman ran away with Skout to escape her kidnapper and raise her only magic-less child in peace. From there, things are up in the air. I imagine during Nomad Jr’s earlier teens/early childhood, Nodad (and Mystery Woman, if it was option A) dies, leaving Nomad Jr to fend for himself.

He of course never leaves the forest- good ole’ Nodad made sure to teach him while he was young to never wander far from home (cue the big DO NOT LEAVE sign). So he stays there, with only one real magic trick up his sleeve from what Nodad was able to teach him before he died… that is, until a familiar looking redhead happens upon him. The reason they don’t recognize each other? They would’ve been separated at a VERY young age, before they could start building any real memories (but if this is the case, how would option B exist? How would Nomad Jr know what his mom looked like? Simple; From old pictures/drawings of her, and from vague memories of her voice, he could very easily build up a fake memory of her), so there’s no chance that they’ll recognize each other (and Nodad would NEVER let Nomad Jr know he has a twin sister out there- can’t risk his son running away to find her).

((Alright, that’s pretty much all I have, but I have some vaguely related rambling down below for those of you who are interested))

If they’re twins, I really like the name Hunter (or Humter if it’s spelled weird like Skout’s is) for Nomad Jr??? I love when twin’s names are alike in some way, and I feel like this name fits him really well- if you don’t agree, feel free to hit me up with alternative names for our favorite Nomad.

The Glowy Chest Thing. That’s fucking weird as shit, but I have an explanation that ties (at the very least) into the Nodad and Shitty!Nodad Theories. Ever heard the quote “Sins of the Father are the fall of the Son?” I wouldn’t put it past RT to pull something like that into the show, especially considering their history with “kids cleaning up their shitty parents messes” ((rvb I’m looking at you)). So basically, because of all the horrible things Nodad (possibly) did in the past, Nomad is now making up for those crimes with good deeds, slowly but surely making amends for his father’s mistakes ((I’ve heard theories that if he does enough good deeds he’ll regain his voice??? Kinda hope that doesn’t happen, since I want him to stay mute, but whatever)).

((Again,this next bit is for FIRST members only. Read this one if you’ve watched the new episode)) My prediction for the next episode (after episode 8): Now that Skout and the Nomad have joined up, I think that Skout is going to try and take him to her old home in order to hide. I think that this, if my theory is correct, will reveal which route was taken. Either the Nomad will unknowingly be reunited with his mother (or knowingly. Cue a tearful reunion), or he will at the very least learn that Skout was adopted by her family (perhaps that’s why she joined Toth and left home??? Did they lie to her growing up and she found out and ran away as a result???), possibly opening the door for the Twin Theory to start being revealed.

This is an insane, probably wrong, theory, but I really freaking like it. I might write a fic for it even, so stay tuned. And if I’m right… holy shit.

#non #nomad of nowhere #nomad of nowhere theory #non theory #the nomad #nomad #skout #toth #bl00dw1tch #this is such an insane theory #but imagine if this was true #this would be pink diamond levels of plot twist #(okay not that big but still holy shit)#non twins au #supercasey theories

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imaginativemarvel · 7 years

Text

Sexual Tension - Bucky Barnes x Reader Pt. 3

Summary: (Y/N) transfers to a new university only to find out her new teacher is a hot jackass. Heated words are tossed back and forth but it ends up making them gravitate even closer.

Chapter Summary: (Y/N) is forced to spend time with the last person she wants to see, her asshole professor, Mr.Barnes.

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.3k (sorry it’s shorter than usual)

Warning: Some cursing, lots of fluff ok A/N: thank you all soooo much for supporting this series!!! (PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS AND TALK TO ME I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!)

Chapter 2

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You were shaking your hips, head moving back and forth. Spinning and singing to your hearts content. It was a few days after the incident you had with your teacher. You didn’t speak one word to him and you came to class a minute before the bell rung each day. He constantly tried to get your attention; Whether it was saying something dumb to get a sarcastic comment out of your mouth or if it was to talk after class.

Each time you either ignored him or completely walked away from him entirely. You continued to dance and scream the song playing on the speakers a few feet away from you. You were staying overtime at your new job and was the only one in the building. You were put on kitchen clean up duty so you wouldn’t be leaving the store for quite a while. Preparing yourself for the extra hour you stuck your phone into the speakers doc a few feet away from the overfilling sink.

Putting on huge yellow rubber gloves you headed over- more like danced over- to the filled up sink. Dishes were everywhere but you didn’t mind. It was a good way to be lost into your thoughts and do whatever you want without anyone judging you. You were about halfway through when one of your favorite childhood songs came on; Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood.

“Right now, he’s probably slow dancing with a bleached-blond tramp and she’s probably getting frisky” you sang at the top of your lungs, off tone and everything. You scrubbed plate my plate singing and spinning. Shaking your hips to each word said in the song.

You were halfway through the song when you were finishing the rest of the dishes. You cleaned the last few cups and set them into the machine, turning it on and turning off the faucet. You swayed back and forth finishing the last sentence to the famous song.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.” Singing like nobody was watching you laughed at yourself for being so weird. You heard a disconnecting sound signaling your phone wasn’t on the doc anymore. You figured it just fell out, that happens often because you jam your huge iPhone 7+ phone into a doc made for a IPhone 5. You turned to go set it back in before being shocked with a familiar voice.

“Really? Who screwed you over?” You looked at the mysterious man. Mentally giving yourself punches in the face as you roll your eyes and peel the yellow gloves off your hands.

“It’s a good song!” You protest “Wait, ugh, what are you doing here? How long have you been here?” You leaned against the counter top, giving him an irritating look.

“Long enough to see you dancing lessons. You know I can help you with that right?” He gave you a wink and you scoffed.

“And well…” trailing off, his muscular arm raised up to the back of his neck as he gave it a rub. “I came to see you.” He smirked like the past week had never happened. He had his ego back in and not an ounce of sadness was left in him from that previous Monday morning.

“How the fuck did you know that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), would be here in the back kitchen at Tony’s Pizza washing dishes at-” you picked up your right hand glancing at your favorite watch “12:36 am at night?”

He chuckled at your irritation and anger as you continued to ramble.

“Plus I just got this job! It’s impossible for you to figure out unless you were, I don’t know, maybe tracking my license plate? I know these things are not in my files! The only person I told about this job and how I was stuck here for a while is-”

Your phone dinged as someone messaged you. He looked at the phone still in his hands, smiling wider than before. He tossed it to you and you caught it, looking at the lock screen to see who had messaged you. You finished the sentence you were cut off from by your device with a sigh.

“Steve.”

Running your fingers through your hair you re-read his message and responded back to him.

‘I’m sorry (Y/N)! He threatened after class if I didn’t tell him that he would fail me.’

“Really Rogers?!’

Even though you understood why he did it, you were upset that you were practically face to face with the last person you wanted to talk to. Tossing your phone on the counter next to you as you looked up to the familiar beautiful blue eyes you missed dearly.

“Door unlocked?”

“Yeah, you guys really should lock doors if you’re closed. Especially when the only worker is too busy singing Carrie Underwood in back room” He chuckled and you tried hard not to smile. You were mad at him; you weren’t going to easily forgive him even if his smile melted your heart entirely.

“If you want to criticize me so much why don’t you work here yourself?”

“If that meant I got to spend more time with you, then why not?”

“Seriously you can’t just walk up to me and pretend like we’re on good terms. It might be childish but you really hurt my feelings. And for you to just waltz right up to me and give me those dumb stupid comments of yours expecting me to just forgive you makes you completely out of your mind.” You close your eyes and rub your hand through your hair once more.

“What if I am here to apologize? Also..” he trailed off before lifting up a cup with the words ‘The Grind’ written on the side. “I brought your favorite smoothie?” Shrugging his shoulders and shaking the cup as if he was trying to get you to forgive him.

You stared at him with a serious look and didn’t say a word. You raised an eyebrow and he set the cup down inhaling deeply while walking towards to you. He leaned on the counter directly across from you making you both arm length apart.

“I should have defended you. What she said wasn’t right. I knew she was wrong but I just… I didn’t know what to say. We had a dinner later that day and all I could think about was-” he paused and looked at his feet. “ it’s just that dinner completely and utterly horrible. I took your advice and I told them I needed time to think about the relationship they’re setting on my shoulders. I needed time to find out what I truly want.”

“And what did they say?” looking at the floor along with him, you practically whispered the question to him.

“That if I didn’t marry Dot by the end of the month then I’m the first Barnes to fail his family.” His voice cracked and you knew that this was the first time he had talked to someone about the situation.

You paused for a second, thinking of the best thing to say to him. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of living a horrible life to please horrible people.

“So are you going to do it?” You looked at him with a questioning look. You stopped leaning on the edge of the counter, standing up straight and looking him in the eyes.

“Are you going to marry dot? She did say that you were hers- that you were ‘her man’. Are you going to throw your life away to marry a piece of scum? Are you sure you want to do that, Bucky?”

He could tell you were mocking himself and Dolores. You were repeating the nicknames they’ve called each other while simultaneously asking him in an intimidating tone. He knew you weren’t doing it in a hurtful way; but in a way to show him to choose what’s best for himself.

“No. I’m not. I don’t love her and I never will.” Looking into your (Y/E/C) eyes he inched closer and closer to you. Setting his hands on your shoulders with your faces only inches apart. Your hands still behind you gripping the end of the counter.

“Good. How do you expect to live doing things that only harm you? You’re suppose to live life doing what makes you happy and if you don’t do that then you’re nothing more than a slave.” Your hot breath hit his face as he continued to stare into your eyes.

He began to lean forward. He closed his eyes but before he could close the small gap between you you quickly turned around, grabbing a wet rag.

“I should really finish cleaning.” Was all you managed to say before wiping down the counters.

You have to admit, you knew what was happening. You were afraid of doing anything with him. You knew deep down inside that you wanted it but you were afraid. Not only that but he still wasn’t off the hook for what he did earlier that week; if he deserved anything it definitely wouldn’t be a kiss on the lips. He would have to practically earn back your trust or forgiveness. You weren’t going to be like the rest and just accept him because he’s adorable and just the funniest thing ever.

“Go out with me. Tomorrow night.” He was standing there leaning on one hand that gripped the counter edge.

Finishing the final thing you needed to clean, you wiped down the last counter and threw the cloth into the dirty pile bin.

“It’s not that I’m underage it’s just you do know that it’s against school rules for a student to date their teacher, right?” You untied the apron from behind your waist and off your neck before hooking it onto the door.

“Who said we would be dating?” He smirked at you receiving an eye-roll.

“You’re telling me that you asked me out on a date and didn’t even think about dating for a split second? I mean usually dates are the thing to get to know each other before you start dating hence why it’s literally the same word but with an added suffix.”

“God you sound like a middle school English teacher.”

“But I’m right.” You smiled and took the hair band out of your hair letting it fall to your shoulders.

“I never said it was a date, I just said go out with me.”

“Barnes, that literally is a way to ask someone out on a date” You both laughed and you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him.

“When?”

“Tomorrow 8pm.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, movies? Restaurant? You choose.”

“I’m indecisive. Choose.”

“Ugh fine um, movies. I heard there’s this really cool action movie coming out. Trailer was good but I forget the name. It surrounds this girl who is saving the world or something.” He stroked his chin and squinted his eyes trying to figure out the name of the movie.

“Wow you want to see Wonder Woman? And I thought you were more of a Marvel kind of guy.”

“What’s the difference? But is that a yes?”

“It would have been a yes if you didn’t just insult me! Marvel and DC are completely different things!” You dramatically throw your hands in the air earning a chuckle from him.

“I was joking!”

“I know you weren’t! But I really want to see Wonder Woman so I’ll go. Now let’s go before it’s too late.”

“Oh yeah, right. Accept the date but only because you ‘want to see the movie’” he mocked your voice and used his hands for dramatic and misused quotation marks. he picked up the sweating smoothie and took a drink before handing it to you.

“I bought this for you and it would be rude to not accept it.”

Laughing, you both walked to the front of the store. You checked everything to make sure it was clean for the next day and grabbed your bag and jacket before meeting him the front door.

“Well Mr.Barnes, you better make tomorrow worth it.”

“Oh I will, trust me, oh and call me Bucky.”

“Is your first name really Bucky?”

“It’s James but I prefer Bucky. Only close people can call me it.”

“Oh yeah, like Dolores.” You snorted. It probably wasn’t the best time to bring her up but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Okay, well, only close people who I give permission to can call me Bucky. I never gave her permission or mentioned the nickname to her; My father told her.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off in a teasing way. You smiled and tapped his chest.

“I kinda like James more” you winked at him and lust filled his eyes. He loved the way you said his name. Normally if someone said his first name he would glare at them but the way you said it filled him with desire.

You opened the door so you both could walk outside to the parking lot. You dug in your bag to grab your keys to lock the door.

“You better lock it this time!” He opened his eyes wide, teasing you.

“I wasn’t suppose to the first time.” You rolled your eyes with a smile. “And what does it look like I’m doing!” You jiggled the door to make sure it was locked before giving him once last smile and wave before walking to your car.

The moment you turned you felt a grab at your wrist, pulling you and turning you around to hit his hard chest. His warm lips connected with yours and his hands wrapped themselves around your waist.

After a moment of realizing what was happening you kissed him back, cursing yourself inside for giving into him when you clearly told yourself he didn’t deserve it. After a few seconds he pulled away and gave you a smile. He turned and walked to the direction of his car while holding up his hand.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Sweet Dreams, James.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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jimlingss · 7 years

Text

His Name [3]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Words: 6.6k Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him. → Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me Warnings: Topics of mental health, mentions of death and medical disorders. Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt.

The memories haven’t all but disappeared.

They’re covered, somewhere in the depths of his most vulnerable mind - for reasons you don’t know. It’s a puzzle with thousands of missing pieces but Jungkook is slowly being able to assemble some corners together; a mural gradually becoming tangible.

“I’ve been thinking…” His clammy hands rub together. “And I think I can remember….something.”

“Can you describe it to me?”

His lids flutter shut, a scrunch between his brows as he dives into the vague images. “My mother. It’s my fifth birthday. And I’m outside in the backyard. There are some balloons tied to the fence. I’m throwing one up into the air. It’s blue and really pretty against the sky, floating and drifting slowly. I remember just staring at it before my mother brings out the cake. She smiles at me and then someone...someone….calls my name.”

“Jungkook!”

“ I...I don’t kno- ugh.” He opens his eyes again, clutching his head within his hands as it throbs. “I don’t know. It was someone...someone important to me. They’re important...really important..”

“Jungkook.” You call him in a firm voice and he sits back up, looking into your orbs. You smile warmly at him. “It’s okay. That’s a lot of improvement! You’re doing a very good job. This takes a lot of time but you’re already starting to remember things.” He nods, lips upturning at your praise. “Can you tell me more about your mom? Do you remember anything specific about her?”

“She used to...she used to garden and paint…?” His eyes shine brighter, voice holding more conviction as he begins to remember again. “My mother really loved to paint.”

You can see the spark of interest light in his eyes, a smile growing at his lips. “Do you paint Jungkook?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t paint...anymore. I used to draw a lot. I do still love art though.”

“Why didn’t you continue with it?”

His eyes flicker to the floor before meeting yours, anguish laced in his features. “My father disapproved of it.”

He shrugs and you sense his discomfort, a desire to move onto a different topic.

You ask a few questions on what it was like to live with his grandparents, the time he spent at the boarding school and what it was like when he came back. From his answers, it seems like he loved his grandparents dearly. Despite being left there by his father, you observe how detached Jungkook is when he speaks about him; their father-son relationship doesn’t appear to be stable.

Jungkook tells you about the three years spent at the boarding school. At the beginning, he was outcasted by the other students - largely due to his withdrawn nature. But, towards the end of his first year, he became well acquainted with a few other students and became a teacher favourite. Unfortunately, all his friends were merely skin deep and he never got too close to them.

These were the years that he began to have missing memories, appearing in places that he never remembered going to, conversations he apparently had with others but didn’t. Jungkook can’t pinpoint the exact time but these were the years that he developed his disorder.

“What’s it like to work at your father’s company?”

“It’s fine.” He responds. “It’s work.”

“Do you interact with your father a lot?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No. He gives me things to do sometimes - projects, meetings, clients. I might see him around but other than that, no. We don’t talk to each other.”

He had told you that the years of coming back home and going through university were all a blur. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything important. He felt like an outsider in his own home. His step-mother, though never went out of her way to harm him, never went out of her way to make him feel welcome either. The friends he made while studying were calculated moves told by his father, relationships he could build to solidify the company’s position. They were never genuine. He was never genuine.

His disorder became worse and worse as time went on. The blackouts became more frequent, lasting a longer time. People began to notice and with so many missed classes, he had to put in hard effort to graduate on time. He couldn’t even keep his own head on his shoulders, nevermind creating and sustaining friendships or relationships.

“How often do you feel high strung when you’re working?”

Jungkook frowns and then shrugs. “Often…?”

You nod, taking note that if the opportunity arises, you should observe his behaviour in the workplace.

Evaluation Report #2 Patient: Jeon Jungkook Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder -Patient generally switches when experiencing panic, anxiety and/or a loss of control. -As observed, the patient's most effective method to return to a normal state is through close proximity, physical touch and/or affection. -Building a strong relationship between clinician and patient is essential but boundaries must be set. Avoid physical contact if possible. Patient must learn how to regain control on his own in case no one is present during his switches. -Improving his control over his emotions is very crucial. -Based on observations, the patient has a tendency to cut off the outside world and stay indoors. It is recommended to increase time spent outside for the patient. -Uncovering the patient’s memories will most likely lead to the cause and root of his disorder. Further investigations are required.*

“Thank you so much for doing this.” You wipe some of your sweat, standing up straight.

“It’s…” Mr. Jinkey huffs out as he drags the bag of soil. “...no problem.” He dusts his hands together, steadying his breath. “You can call me anytime Miss Y/N. But can I ask you what this is all for?”

You smile, looking at the five bags of soil, the fertilizer and the new watering cans. “Just thought it would be nice to do some gardening.”

When you drag Jungkook outside, his expression tells you it’s anything but nice.

He’s frowning, mouth parted and eyes filled with disgust. He slows down in his steps, apprehension taking hold of his limbs. It’s as if you’re going to give him a math equation to solve.

“What...is this?”

You’re ingenious. Jungkook needed to develop more time to go outside and if he planted vegetables, it could help improve his diet. Gardening was also one of his mother’s hobbies. It might or might not uncover more of his childhood memories. It was worth a shot and you were killing three birds with one stone.

“Oh, c’mon. Lighten up, Kook.” You nudge him and he looks with wide eyes into the empty planter box. “Don’t you want to garden?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” You turn on your heel, grabbing the bag of soil. “You have no choice. Now go move it wherever you want it to be.”

From the corner of your eye, you catch his little pout and a smile wiggles up your lips.

Jungkook picks up the wooden, garden box and puts it underneath the window next to his stone patio. When he spots that you’re struggling with pulling the bag, he shifts your hands off. “Here.” He mutters before hoisting it up into his arms. “I don’t get why we have to do this…”

“Because it’s fun…and if we do it successfully, they’ll be tomatoes, peppers...carrots...” You follow him. “It can be our project.”

“Ours?” He questions and when you motion towards the rectangle, he dumps the contents out.

“Jin, one of your alters, usually takes care of the garden.”

“Oh….” Jungkook takes a look around as if never before noticing how well kept it is.

“But this will be our project. No one but me and you, Jungkook, will be able to touch this planter box. No strangers, no one familiar and not even your alters. Just me and you.”

He frowns, thinking for a second as he tilts his head in skepticism. Jungkook looks to the ground as he walks back to take another bag of soil. As he returns, you notice a suppressed smile on his face; perhaps trying to conceal a huge grin.

You beam at him and he clears his throat. “Well...it’s not a horrible idea. I guess it sounds good.”

“Good.”

The both of you are kneeling in the grass, having poured in all the dirt and fertilizer to the top of the box. With a trowel in your hand, you’re digging tiny holes for him to drop the seeds in.

“You know…” He looks up past his sweaty bangs. “...I never realized how nice this garden is. Who did you say takes care of it?”

“Jin. Seokjin? He’s twenty years old. Cooks. Cleans. Tells bad puns.”

“Twenty years old?!” Jungkook’s mouth drops.

You let a giggle slip past your lips. “Yeah. Why?”

“I think he’s the one who keeps buying Mario plushies online. I thought he was ten or something.” He mumbles and you laugh again. “Sometimes I see sticky notes laying around the house and there's always a list of chores on them...or they’re telling me how messy the house is. I think they’re from him.”

“Sounds like it.” You catch Jungkook shaking his head. His smile disappears for a second before it grows even bigger. “What’s wrong?”

“No. I just heard in the back of my mind, a really loud ‘YAH!’.” He scrunches up his nose, dumping out the rest of the contents out of the seed packet into the last hole before you cover it up with the topsoil.

He’s beside you as you fill up the watering cans with the hose. “How do you feel about going outdoors, Jungkook?”

He hums. “It’s fine I guess.”

“Do you feel better?”

“I guess I do.” Jungkook looks around at the luscious green grass, plush like a carpet underneath his feet. His eyes flicker to the flower bushes before up at the cerulean canvas. “I should go outside more.”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

He mutters under his breath as he leans over to turn off the nozzle- “but I don’t have anyone to go-”

“I’ll go.” You pipe up and he looks back at you with wide eyes.

“Wha-”

“You’ll always have me.” You reassure him, standing up and handing him one of the two watering cans. “You’re not alone, Jungkook. You should remember that - you’re really not alone.”

Jungkook follows behind you with his lips upturned. When you turn around to steal a glance, he immediately looks away with a blank expression and when you face forward again, his smile returns.

“Did you ever do anything similar with your mother?”

He scours his brain and his memories. “I think so….I had a smaller watering can. It was yellow..with a huge star on it. But I remember getting yelled at for overwatering the plants...by someone...”

“Do you remember who it was?”

There’s a delay in his answer, a huff of defeat that barely comes out as a weak whisper- “no.”

“It’s okay. You’ll remember eventually.” You reassure him and he nods. The atmosphere becomes heavy with his frown and after watering the entire planter box, there’s still some water left in your can.

You slosh it around until your eyes twinkle with mischief and you look up at the concentrated boy. The moment you swing the handle back and a stream of water launches into the air, he smoothly dodges by stepping to the side.

“What. are. you. doing?!” He grins at your startled expression.

“How did you avoid that?”

“Try me.” His hand motions for you to come, pupils flashing with competitiveness.

“Oh it’s on.” You step forward, trying to splash him again but he giggles, running out the way and making the water soak into the grass. “You’re going to have to try harder than that!”

The both of you end up chasing each other around the backyard, trying to drench the other. Somehow, he gets the upper hand and manages to dump his entire can over your head. Your shirt becomes completely soaked and he falls to the ground in breathless giggles, clutching onto his stomach.

Not accepting defeat, you run off to the hose and you blast him with the hardest setting. You shoot mercilessly, opening fire until his clothes become so soaked that he might as well be in a laundry machine; his shirt becoming thin material and barely hanging off his shoulders and arms. Yet, as he screams and shrieks for you to stop in the midst of his laughter, ‘god Y/N! Stop!’, you pretend not to hear.

“Hmm?! What was that?!” You shout, moving the hose to spray his whole body length.

Even though the water is on the roughest setting, he runs up to you, slapping the hose out of your hands. A yelp leaves your lips as he takes the fabric of his shirt and slaps you with it like it’s a wet towel. Jungkook threatens to hug you, make you as drenched as he is but you duck away before he gets the chance.

Eventually, the two of you pass out in the plush grass, letting the beaming sun dry you off. Your chest is still heaving and when you take a peek beside you. He’s wearing the brightest of smiles.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed so hard.

It happens the next day, one early morning.

You’re sipping on some hot coffee, filling out and finishing some documents. It’s then that a knock on the door shatters your concentration. Jungkook pops his head through the gap and nervously asks, while scratching the back of his neck, if you want to join him at his office.

It’s something you had mentioned that you wanted to do before. You’re aware that he often switches to his alters with the high stress environment there; you needed to observe him in those circumstances. Thus, you happily shut off your laptop and got ready.

“I’ve already told my secretary that you’re just an assistant.” Jungkook mutters to you, his face void of emotion and his voice more serious than you’ve ever heard. “Do you need anything or are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

You work in the corner of his office, looking up once in a while from your laptop to study him. It’s quiet for the most part except for the tapping of keyboards, flipping through stacks of paper and the breaks to sip on coffee. You muse how awfully lonely it is if he’s cooped up in his office all day for hours on end.

When he goes to a meeting, you sit in the back of the conference room, listening and watching. He easily gives the presentation, stuttering only a few times in front of the room and answering some questions. But at some point, you notice a difference. He becomes more confident and eloquent, responding with extensive knowledge and in pensive mannerisms.

“Jungkook?” You approach him after the meeting is finished and everyone is filtering out the room.

He looks up at you carefully but doesn’t reply, making you follow behind him as he walks off to his office. Once you close the door and he places the stack of sheets onto his desk, he clears his throat. “Unfortunately, I am not Jungkook.” He smiles, slight dimples creasing on each side of his cheek.

You shake his hand and he firmly nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Y/N. My name is Kim Namjoon.”

“It’s a..pleasure to meet you too.”

“I know you might have some questions for me but I’m swamped with work at the moment. I’ll make sure to devote time to you later if that’s alright with you.” He takes a seat and you slowly nod, caught off guard with how polite he is.

“Y-yes. That’s fine.”

“Great.” He clasps his hands together, looking at his monitor. As you make your way back to the coffee table in the corner, he speaks up. “Oh! I don’t know if Jungkook has mentioned this to you - I believe it might’ve slipped his mind - but there’s a business dinner later this evening. It’ll be with Jungkook’s father, stepmother and a few shareholders. I’m sorry that it might seem abrupt.”

“O-oh. No it’s perfectly fine. I’m okay with that.” You immediately look down to your attire. You’re in a plain white blouse and a black pencil skirt with heels - it’s the standard office outfit but it might be underdressed for a business dinner.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” He reaffirms in a strong voice. “You look perfectly fine.”

He’s looking down and shuffling through the files, preoccupied but also seemingly aware of your worries. “Thank you, Namjoon.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He murmurs out but a second later, he looks back at you. “Oh and one more thing. You should call me Jungkook around this office. We don’t want to let other people overhear and become confused. After all….” He downcasts his orbs, shoulders slumping for a mere heartbeat and a slight wash of sadness appears on his face. “I…”

He’s supposed to be Jungkook.

Despite taking care of almost all the work, Namjoon isn’t the one who can take the credit for it.

“I understand.” You interject before he can finish. He nods gratefully before returning.

Namjoon is prim and proper. He holds a regal aura, intimidating in a way that you wonder if he came from noble blood. Each time he speaks, you notice how he thinks carefully and in every action, he considers the consequences. Regardless of being eloquent in the way he presents himself, he’s rather clumsy. At some point, he knocks his pen holders down and you help him collect them from the floor. He spills coffee all over his desk. He bumps into the copier machine while walking out the office. He trips over his shoes before getting to the car.

And with each clumsy mistake, he always does a quick look around to see if anyone’s seen. When you bite down on your lip, trying to hold in a laugh, he sends a sheepish smile before clearing his throat and pretending it never happened.

“Here.” He opens your palm up, placing the car keys in your hand. “You drive.”

“Me?”

“I don’t know how to drive.” He admits with embarrassment. “It’s safer for humanity that way.”

You don’t need much more of an explanation after observing him the entire day.

You nod, letting him know that it’s nothing to be shameful about and he looks at you appreciatively before getting into the passenger seat. The two of you don’t chat with each other, Namjoon preoccupied on his phone and answering some business phone calls. When you arrive at the restaurant with his directions, he introduces you to the older men, keeping to your title as assistant.

Jungkook’s father arrives shortly after, scrutinizing the both of you with stone cold eyes. Jungkook’s stepmother is hugging onto his arm, nodding her head to you in acknowledgement and you suppose she knows the true nature of your relationship with the boy.

“-and so, I believe that the next project will gravely raise the position of our company in the market.”

Namjoon is sly. No one in their right mind wants to discuss work, business dinner or not. At the beginning, he inquired about the family and personal life of each shareholder; sharing interests in their newfound hobbies. Somehow and someway, before you’ve even realized it, he’s eased himself into pitching the next deal. He’s got you charmed with his words.

The old men laugh with their bellies full. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. You’ve got me in.”

Another nods. “I’m caught too.”

“Mr. Jeon, you have quite the son.”

The waiter swoops by, taking away your finished dish and you motion to them thankfully.

Mr. Jeon scoffs lightly, his wife swirling her wine in her glass by his side. “He’s not much...really. There’s more than meets the eye.”

“He seems like a very intelligent and bright boy.”

Jungkook’s father scrutinizes from the corner of his eye. He chuckles cruelly as he shakes his head. “He’s a good for nothing son. He’s always been and always will be a disappointment to me. I don’t think he’ll ever grow up. If he listened to me, if he trusted me, if he wasn’t so naive…maybe things wouldn’t had to happen the way they di-”

Namjoon’s hand suddenly slams onto the table, ricocheting off the walls. When you turn to him completely startled, you immediately recognize that it’s no longer him and he’s not Jungkook either.

“Are you done?” The voice drops a pitch lower, a growl in the back of his throat. His eyes are bitter cold.

It’s the nameless man.

The shareholders look on in surprise, Jungkook’s stepmother stops her glass mid-way from taking a sip but Jungkook’s father looks absolutely unfazed.

You notice the man’s jaw is clamped down, teeth grinding against each other and his fist is clenched in his lap. He glares at the older man brutally, ready to launch over the table and wrap his hands around the older’s neck. A pure form of hatred twists his features, made from a million resentments and miseries. “Isn’t that enou-”

You reach over discreetly under the table, placing your hand on top of his. From your warm touch, he immediately cranes his head to you. Your eyes are soft, lips turned meekly to comfort him. He eases. His shoulders relax, his jaw loosens and he returns your gaze. It’s a gaze of desperation, begging….asking you if you can try to understand him. His eyes speak more than you’re able to grasp. But before you can figure out why his expression is tangled with agony and grief, his eyes glisten over.

Jungkook’s eyes blink twice, three times but it’s still not Jungkook that returns.

“I’m so sorry for that.” Namjoon clears his throat. He flashes a perfect smile, settling everyone around the table and pacifying the tense atmosphere. “I always like to say that my father keeps me humble. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“We all need someone like that in our lives.” A suited man agrees, raising his glass for a sip.

“Oh please, Henry. You’re the last humble man on this entire planet.” Another banters with him and everyone laughs.

Despite the conversations flowing smoothly after that and there are no more swaps between the alters, there’s something in the way that Namjoon taps his foot that tells you he’s not calm in the least bit.

The sky is swirled with blue steel ink, half the moon hovering high and the stars unseen from the skyscraper lights and street lamps. It’s unfortunate that the twinkling far away glows can’t be observed in the city. But at the very least, it’s reached a point of night where there are few on the streets and few disturbances aside from an occasional car whizzing past. The air is crisp but warm, enough that you don’t have to regret merely wearing a white blouse and black skirt.

“Miss Y/N.” He stops you from walking off the curb of the pavement to the front seat of the car. “If it is alright with you, could we possibly take a short walk to the library? There’s a few books that I’m interested in and it hasn’t gotten too late yet. They’re a street down and still open.”

“Yes. It’s fine.” You nod. “And you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N. Y/N’s fine.”

The two of you walk side-by-side in serene quiet, a comfortable silence that can only be achieved with years of familiarity yet somehow resonates between the both of you. From his embarrassing antics earlier, Namjoon makes an effort to not trip, staring down at his feet and the pavement. But then he nearly drives himself into a telephone pole and a brick wall. Each time you shout or yank him back, he sheepishly thanks you.

“Here it is.” He beams, looking happier ever since the work day and business has been finished. He holds the door open for you and when you enter, Namjoon looks around the bookshelves like a child in a toy store.

“Do you like reading?”

“I do.” He sighs, closing up a book and reaching for another. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much of an opportunity to do so, with work and the others...you know.”

You follow him in each aisle. “There’s just so many interesting things. Fiction or nonfiction, there are countless stories to be told, ideas to be conveyed, knowledge that needs to be learnt...I think it’s amazing.”

“Me too.” He gleams at your response, dimples creasing his cheeks.

By the time the both of you are finished, he picks up one book and the both of you decide to take a short stroll at the adjacent park. There’s not many nearby, some old couples hand-in-hand and young ones laughing together, individuals that want to escape from the silence of their home or the bustling nightlife.

The bridge is luminous with fairy lights, reflecting off the still waters of the river. From where you’re walking, you can catch the skyline from the other side. The noise seems to drown, being so far away.

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm?” You turn to him in confusion and he sighs.

“You calmed him down. He usually would’ve hurt someone....severely. How did you do it?”

You immediately recognize who he’s talking about - the nameless man.

“You know who he is?” You stop in your tracks, eyes open wide. “What’s his name?”

Out of a million and one questions, that’s the one that spills your mouth first. But Namjoon simply shakes his head. “He wouldn’t appreciate me telling you. If you really want to know, Y/N, you should ask him yourself.”

“That’s-...can’t you just tell me?”

He smiles at your discreet pout. “No. And don’t you have a few questions to ask me? Now’s a good chance. I don’t know when I’ll be switched with another and I don’t know the next time I’ll see you.”

“Okay.” You don’t miss his expression of melancholy as the both of you settle down at the wooden bench. “How old ar-”

“My name is Kim Namjoon. I am eighteen years old and I am the personality that was created from Jungkook’s time in boarding school. I am the alter that appears when he has to conduct business.” He cuts to the chase with a sad smile.

“Wait. You’re only eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“You’re extremely mature. I thought you would be at least twenty five or thirty.”

He smiles, looking down at his clasped hands. “Knowledge doesn’t necessarily correlate to age. I have a lot to work on and I still make dumb mistakes from time to time. But I try my best.”

“Namjoon, what did you mean when you said you said that you were created from Jungkook’s time in boarding school?” You inquire, staring at his profile. He inhales a breath, sitting up straight and leaning into the bench.

“It was a...strict school to say the least.” He steals a glance from you, a gentle uplift of his lips. “It was a school for troubled rich kids and they really whip you into shape. Jungkook had a hard time, so, I came along.”

“If he messed up back then, he would’ve been sent home - that was something he was extremely afraid of.”

You frown. “Jungkook was afraid of returning home? Why?”

“Well...you probably already noticed but his relationship with his father isn’t the greatest.” He eases you with another tiny smile. “I can’t really say anymore than that. It’s not my place.”

You nod, grasping a clear understanding of what he’s willing and not willing to talk about. “Don’t you consider yourself an entirely separate person from Jungkook? Why did you say you were only a personality of his?”

“Because that’s what I am to you.” He exhales wistfully, flickering his orbs up to the moon. “You consider me, us, merely alters of Jungkook’s personality. And you’re not wrong. It doesn’t make scientific sense otherwise; for a bunch of people to be inside of him. It’s his disorder that you’re trying to cure, why would I expect you to consider anything else? It doesn’t matter what I feel. Even if I felt like I was my own person. Even if I feel like the person ‘Namjoon’ and not ‘Jungkook’. None of that matters; to you or to this world.”

Your mouth fills with cotton, unable to answer. You have nothing to refute with. It’s not like you would anyways - you don’t want to lie.

“I’m not just trying to help Jungkook. I want to help all of you.”

“I know.” His irises crinkle sincerely, a bare whisper that leaves his lips. “I know. That’s why all of us have accepted you so easily. Not only for ourselves but we care for Jungkook. We want to see him happy.”

You gaze at the man, the slope of his nose and roundness of his cheeks; it is Jungkook’s exterior but for a flicker of a moment, you can almost see someone else, someone completely different.

“With that being said..” He begins again, staring out at the city skyline and the sparkling lights. “Would it really benefit Jungkook or anyone if he remembered?”

“What do you mean?”

“The memories that you’re trying to bring back.” He sighs. “There’s a reason he forgot. There’s a reason why they’re repressed in his mind. He was hurt, Y/N.”

“By what? What was he hurt by, Namjoon?” You lean forward, probing deep with your words but he simply shakes his head. “Why was he hurt? Do you know?”

“I can’t tell you.” He tears his gaze away from yours. “It’s not my place. Would it even do any good to remember again?”

“He has to.” You press on. “It’s the only way we can fight against his…-”

You stop short, biting your lips back and he chuckles quietly. “The only way to fight against this disorder.” Namjoon speaks slowly, emphasizing each word as if it’s a knife digging deeper into his skin. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Despite Namjoon smiling, you can see the disappointment wash over.

In his mind, he thought maybe you’d be able to understand. He, the others, all of this wasn’t merely a disorder - at least in their minds. They felt real. They experienced real emotions; anger, hatred, sadness, happiness, love. But somehow they shared one body, one skin. And even to the last moment, you still thought of him purely as a personality, as an alter.

Not separate individuals.

“Namjoon. I’m sorr-”

“It’s okay. More than anyone…” He stands up with his book, lifting out his hand and when you grab onto it, he hoists you up with a smile. Two dimples, each dot the side of his cheeks but it’s all too twisted with heartache. “...I understand.”

It’s a Sunday afternoon. The office is abandoned, laptop shut and the pages of the open binder fall to the wooden floorboards from the draft of the window. Dusk light is still hours away, sunshine yellow and piercing through the enormous glass windows.

You’ve set your work aside, pulling out your mother’s old recipe book and digging around for your apron. It was still a long time before dinner but you knew you would have to get started early - always getting delayed from the messes you create when you step into the kitchen. You can’t remember the last time you cooked or made an entire homemade meal but strangely, flashbacks of over boiled pasta and ash burnt meat come to mind.

“Cabbage first.”

Oddly enough, things go pretty smoothly - aside from the fact that you nearly sliced open your hand with the knife. The water is boiling, vegetables are left steaming, the meat on the pan is sizzling and you’re starting to set the table. Cooking takes your utmost concentration and focus, multitasking and rushing from place to place. You’re not sure why you’re trying so hard, it’s not like Jungkook is a professional chef that you’re attempting to impress; nonetheless, you’re meticulous with every single dish.

“What are you doing?”

A voice interrupts and you swivel around with a grin. “Jungkook! You came right in time. Take a seat.”

His frown softens but he’s still dumbfounded, confused as he slowly drags the chair from under the table out. He plops down, eyes on the numerous piping dishes in front of him.

“Wha-”

“Aren’t you hungry?” You set down his bowl of rice, pulling out your own chair to sit down in. “Time to dig in.”

Jungkook watches as you scoop a spoonful into your mouth, scrunching up your nose when you bite into the hot egg roll. “What are you looking at me for?” You scold him, motioning your utensil to his chest. “Are you not going to eat?”

He complies, downcasting his head and pouting his lips. He reminds you of a kindergartener, a lost boy with too many doubts in his head. You can’t help but let a smile slip.

“Did you do this for me?” He takes a tiny bite, glancing up at you past his lashes.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” You grin when he sighs at your vague answer. You tease him, “Is it too salty for your tastes?”

“It’s fine.” He retorts back. “Good. Better.”

You watch him fondly. “Jungkook, when was the last time you had a meal with someone?”

He doesn’t respond for a long while, looking downwards as he takes another bite-

“Decades.”

The both of you sit in silence. Jungkook ingests it quickly, biting and chewing with full cheeks. He might even choke with the pace that he’s eating at. Yet, he keeps his eyes facing downwards, soundless and expression blank. But you notice.

From the glances that you steal, you catch the shimmering of his orbs. His nose grows red, cheeks flushed and every sniffle that he takes tells you he’s trying hard to restrain his emotions. Each time it becomes difficult to swallow with the lump in his throat, he takes spoonfuls of the soup. And when a tear finally falls onto the white table, he quickly wipes it away before you see, without knowing - you’ve already seen.

“How is it?” You keep your lips in a straight line, blinking at him kindly. “Delicious?”

He lets out a croaked “yeah”.

“What’s your favourite food, Jungkook? I’ll make it next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.” You reassure with a firm voice. There will be a next time. There will be countless times.

“Lamb skewers.” He says with a small upturn of his mouth. “It’s lamb skewers.”

You hum. “Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Y/N.” He calls your name quietly and you meet his dark pupils. “Thank you.”

It was only one meal that you set aside time to make. But with him sitting across from you, his lips trembling with emotion - you already know that the small action means so much to him. His whisper whirls around the night, barely a murmur past your ears. It’s enlaced with genuine sincerity, making your chest swell from within.

It’s not suppose to be this intimate. Though somehow it is.

“Thank you.”

Jungkook insisted on cleaning up for you. He was strongly adamant about it, gathering up everything silently and making his way to the sink. You sighed, lingering around for a moment until you suddenly remembered that you had to finish a few things that you had set aside earlier. He told you to go do whatever you needed to do and you couldn’t argue.

Standing alone in the kitchen, it occurred to Jungkook that he needed, no, he wanted to do something more for you. To him, a simple ‘thank you’ wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to express how much it actually meant. He wanted to do something, anything; ask if you wanted or needed things, maybe if you wanted to go somewhere with him...maybe if you wanted to catch a movie...go have dessert.

Each step that Jungkook takes up the stairs is heavy and cautious. He doesn’t know why he feels so anxious or nervous in his own home. It’s you. You would never intentionally hurt him - that’s what he believes - and the worst that could happen was a simple rejection, a ‘no’. It wasn’t the end of the world. He could handle it. All he needed was to ask one question: if you wanted to go with him. It isn’t difficult. One question.

Jungkook dawdles outside your door, twisting the brass knob in his hand but he stops short. The moment it cracks open and a beam of light pierces into the dark hallway, a soft piano melody streams from your laptop and into his ears. He staggers.

His heart accelerates.

His breath freezes.

“Jungkook!”

“What are you doing?”

“Come sit down!”

“The food’s getting cold.”

A film plays beneath his eyelids, snapshots of vague images. Colour does not exist, black and white screens blurred to a point where he can’t make out the faces. The edges of the scene are curled together, sepia and burnt. Fuzzy. Clouded. There’s a table. Dark silhouettes. His mother. His father.

“My favourite’s lamb skewers. Here. Try some.”

A strange boy with ebony locks next to him.

Jungkook screams. An invisible hand wraps around his throat, choking him as he desperate gasps for breath. He can’t breathe and his eyes flash, morphing into tunnel vision. Suddenly you’re in front of him, the door crashing against the wall. Your lips move but he can’t hear; his heartbeat pounds loud within his eardrums, sirens blaring in his head. His chest constricts, a wave of panic drowning him like a tsunami. He is shaking and numb, leaning against the doorway as the world swirls into a mosaic of colours.

“Jungkook.”

Your voice is miles away, a shout into the oblivion.

“Jungkook!”

But he picks up on the distant echo.

“Jungkook.”

“You’re not going to die. You’re not alone.”

“I’m here.”

Warm arms wrap around his waist, his back patted gently like a lover’s embrace. He is tugged back into reality, reminded that you’re beside him - that he’s not alone. His heaving chest becomes calm underneath your touch, deep inhales that make the palpitation of his heart return to normal thump, thump, thumps. Jungkook’s sight returns and he desperately searches for your eyes. When he finds them, they are tender and soft, comforting and more than a million spoken words.

After you ask him if he’s okay, to which he responds with a weak nod, you bring him into his bedroom. He’s placed on his mattress, covers tucked up to his chin. He wants nothing more than for you to crawl beside him but he can’t ask; not when you’ve already murmured a few words that shot past his ear and the door is closed shut.

As Jungkook stares at his ceiling, being consumed by the darkness of the night, he’s reminded of one thing.

In what world could he have ever asked you?

It was one simple question: “do you want to go out?”. He would’ve blushed, stuttered, stumbled. “I mean...for dessert or a movie.”. Perhaps you would’ve said ‘yes’, maybe ‘no’. But now he can never know your answer.

He couldn’t even walk into your room.

He couldn’t even step into the light.

He’s frustrated and reminded that he’s utterly b r o k e n.

That night Jungkook dreams of a boy’s face that he cannot see.

#bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #Jungkook scenario #bts scenario #MUHAHAHAHHA

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deadlyflames · 7 years

Text

Think Of Me

Think of me, think of me waking

Silent and resigned

Imagine me trying too hard

To put you from my mind

Recall those days, look back on all those times

Think of the things we’ll never do

There will never be a day

When I won’t think of you

Ten thousand years was a long time. Lotor would know, he had to live through it. At first he didn’t notice the absurd length of his own life, and the years passed him by as they normally would. But when he felt it, the way time seemed to push past him and leave him behind in its wake, a hole was created in his chest. The piece of empty space within him was small, barely there really, but he still felt it.

When his parents rose from the dead, more driven and callous than ever before, Lotor struggled to adapt. Seeing his father standing before him, watching him with a calculating gaze, made Lotor’s heart jump to his throat. He noticed there was no longer an iris or pupil in the centre of his eyes, just the unsettling violet glow.

A woman stood, hunched over at Zarkon’s side. Her hair was a white and straggly mess and her hands were like bone. Her skin tone was a darker and more vibrant purple than most of the Galra. There was a sharp ferocity in her expression, and her eyes were the same as his father’s; bright, glowing, and soulless.

Mother. The word brushed the back of his mind, whispered in the voice of a child.

Zarkon said only one cruel thing when he saw his son again, after returning to the world of the living. One thing that left Lotor shell shocked as his father passed him by like he were a common Galra soldier.

“Your weakness has cost us our home and our dignity,” Zarkon’s said, his voice so much deeper and gravely than it had been before. He didn’t even look at Lotor as he strode passed him, but Lotor could still hear what he said next. “I should have expected this kind of failure from a half breed.”

It was the first time Lotor had ever heard his father use that slur towards him, but it wasn’t the last.

His mother didn’t say a word as she followed close behind his father on his way to the bridge. Right after that, Zarkon declared war against Altea and all of their allies, plunging the universe into chaos.

Lotor tried to stop the bloodshed, tried to find a trace of compassion in his father, but was quickly silenced by a harsh threat from his father and a sharp glare from his mother.

The prince still tried though. He tried and nearly managed to save Allura from the fate of her people. He tried to convince his father to keep the royal family of Altea alive. In the end, his efforts amounted to nothing. Emperor Zarkon personally killed King Alfor without pause or a sense of regret, and soon after, the entire Altean solar system was wiped off of the star map.

Once the news of Altea’s demise reached him, Lotor stopped trying.

As his father continued to conquer planet after planet in his mad pursuit of Voltron, Lotor stayed silent at his side. He watched as his father hunted down and slaughtered Voltron’s remaining paladins. He watched as his mother used quintessence to build horrible monstrosities for the use of the Empire. He never stood up to them or even protested against their actions. There was no point.

Allura was gone. She had burned with her people, the way she claimed she would when he last saw her. Her voice, deadly and full of hatred, echoed his ears. Lotor tried to block the sound out, unable to take her accusing tone or the look of betrayal on her face. Eventually, after months of torture, the voice faded away and he was able to breathe easier.

The Emperor never settled on a new planet, despite conquering many places that would serve as a decent ground for a new home. Zarkon stayed on the massive central command ship, constantly moving and searching the vast universe for the elusive Lions of Voltron. While his parents continued their obsessive quest for the ultimate power, Lotor was pushed farther into the background.

Zarkon kept him out of sight and out of mind, only occasionally allowing him to stand to the side of his throne while he spoke to certain dignitaries and generals. Lotor wasn’t sure whether he was there to keep up appearances or to learn from his father. Either way, his father expected him to stay silent and vigilant as he gave orders and ruled over his ever expanding Empire.

His mother barely acknowledged him, and Lotor saw no hint of recollection or even the slightest emotion in her eyes when she looked at him. His mother had always been distant, even before her death and resurrection. However, this new version of her, this woman who could summon a powerful and unnatural sorcery with a vicious twist of her fingers, seemed like a completely new person. He supposed it was fitting she now called herself Haggar instead of her given name. That was what Lotor now called her as well.

There were only small moments, where Lotor was sure she could remember that he was her son. She would take him aside and into a remote room. She would stab a syringe of bright quintessence into his arm without any warning or reason. The golden substance’s unearthly glow would coat her hand in it’s warm yellow light, and Lotor always found himself hypnotized by its colour. As it filled his veins and rushed to his heart, Lotor could feel his muscles relax and his lungs breathe with new life. The first time Haggar did this, Lotor had thought she was trying to kill him. She had easily overpowered him when he tried to fight her off. And after that first injection, he simply went along with her whim without protest. He could see it in her eyes, a shade of something in the centre. A sign that when she did this, she was doing it for his sake.

With each injection Haggar gave him, Lotor’s skin tone became more vibrant and his hair colour began to fade until blueish silver turned to stark white. As Lotor examined his pale hair, he cracked a tiny smile. It was the same as Allura’s. Or had her hair been more silvery?

Lotor’s thoughts came to a halt when the question came to mind. The smile on his face disappeared. The more he thought back on her, the more difficult it was to get a clear image in his head. It wasn’t just the colour of her hair that he couldn’t remember, he couldn’t recall the sound of her voice, the curve of her smile, or the feeling of her skin. He tried to conjure details from his memories, but her image was distorted, smeared and damaged by the passage of time.

Lotor pondered on it for days before the truth finally sunk in. Allura was truly dead, and he was forgetting her. No matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop her from fading away entirely.

The grief hit him like a punch to the stomach and he could feel a wetness at the corner of his eyes. Once the first tear fell, he could do nothing to stop the rest. Lotor cried for a long time, feeling the weight of loosing his first love in every way someone can loose love.

The years bled together as time continued to roll by and Lotor began to feel the hole inside him. He shouldn’t be living this long. The Galra had long lifespans and Altean’s lived even longer, but he never aged at all, even as centuries passed.

Centuries dragged by the prince and Lotor began to forget pieces of his life. He forgot the palace he grew up in along with the very name of his home planet. He forgot the meaning that Haggar’s presence held along with the summers from his childhood. All of it slowly vanished from his mind as the centuries turned to millenniums, the way a dwarf star would vanish from the sky.

The people he met over the years would come and go. He would meet another person that was half Galra and half something else and he would form a connection. There had been several of them throughout his life, kindred spirits within a cold and dark empire. But eventually, they all died off and then they faded from his memories.

It was the quintessence running through his veins, keeping him up while everyone around him would fall. Lotor almost hated it, but a small part of him liked standing above them all. An immortal among insects that were only a flicker within his lifetime. Every frustrating general or scheming underling that would try to win his father’s favour and devalue their prince while he stood by the throne; all of them would fade, while Lotor remained standing at his father’s side.

However, that satisfaction was sometimes overwhelmed by the emptiness; the hole that continued to grow as he outlived everyone he knew.

He didn’t make a lasting connection with anyone, and he never made an impact on the world around him or even the Empire he was the soul heir to. Because while Lotor never died, Zarkon didn’t either. The emperor stayed in complete control, while Lotor remained as a silent observer beside the throne.

He had no purpose, no reason to keep living, but he kept living anyway. He was like a rock, stuck in a stream. The current didn’t move him, it simply flowed around and left him behind, over and over again. And, the same way water would erode a stone, Lotor could feel time eroding him, hollowing him out until not much of him was left.

He supposed this was how an immortal would die. They would rot from the inside out.

Eventually, the emptiness became unbearable and Lotor could feel his edges snapping as that hole grew bigger and became deeper. Resentment and rage crawled through his insides and clenched his heart. All of that anger and hostility was directed towards one thing. The being that kept him alive while also refusing to die himself.

Zarkon was a daunting figure, who’s shadow loomed over Lotor in aspect of his life. He sat on his throne of bones, unchallenged and threatened by nothing. For there was no one in the universe that could hope to stand against this immortal that held command over nearly every living thing. Even as his only son, standing to the side of his throne, Lotor had no effect on him. His fingers twitched with a pent up agitation, but he could only stand there with a tense expression and a rigid spine.

Lotor didn’t dare act on his impulsive desire to lunge at his father, even while the desire grew tenfold throughout time. Even as the heir to the Galra empire, his safety in regards to his father’s temper was not guaranteed. One wrong move could result in exile, or worse.

‘Are you really that afraid of him?’ He could hear a soft whisper ring from the back of his mind, though he couldn’t remember where he had heard those words.

The whisper struck something within him, an emotion he thought had been stifled by centuries of an endless and purposeless existence. A determination and drive to rebel against the chains that confined him. He was sick of being afraid and controlled, and any punishment his father dreamt up for him was bound to be better than the life he was living now.

When Lotor acted out, speaking out against Zarkon in front of his generals and protesting his latest battle strategy, the punishment was swift. For his insolence, his father sent him to the fighting ring, forcing him to fight among the other gladiators. To maintain appearances, Zarkon announced to his people that the crown prince was fighting in the ring in order to prove his strength as well as challenge it.

With his vast experience, Lotor was able to conquer every adversary he faced in the ring. With each victory, he was met with cheers of adulation that sent a spike of satisfaction down his spine. On the few occasions that the emperor would attend the fights, Lotor would look up at his father with a smug grin after he took down his opponent.

His success in the ring was not ignored by his father, and eventually Zarkon was satisfied with the result. However, when the Emperor told Lotor that he was free to stop participating in the fights, Lotor declined and continued to enter the ring when the desire struck him. The freedom and adoration he received during the gladiator matches was not something he wanted to loose.

Lotor’s victories reinvigorated the boldness and confidence that he possessed in his youth. He continued to act against his father, despite Haggar’s warning glares as well as his father’s punishments. The prince was sent to conquer far off planets with minimal forces, sent to crush stubborn rebellions, and forced to assist in the search for the Lions of Voltron.

It took centuries of dedication and careful planning, but eventually the Galra prince was met with success. Finding the Red Lion had been a great triumph for the Empire, and Lotor swelled with pride when his father laid eyes on the great prize he had brought home.

Over the next thousand years, Lotor had established himself as a key pillar in the Galra empire. Despite some of the Galra beliving his tactics to be unorthodox, Lotor had still earned the loyalty and respect of his people. It seemed to be much more affective to speak up than to stay silent.

However, in spite of his victories, Zarkon was pushed to the edge of his patience when the prince made a cocky remark during a war meeting.

“It’s no wonder our forces have been unsuccessful when conquering these solar systems,” Lotor had snarked from beside the throne, glaring down at the generals that stood bellow him. “If it was you four leading the charge, anyone could win.”

Zarkon’s head snapped around and he stared his son down with an unreadable expression. “And do you believe you and your half breed battalion could do the job better.”

Lotor scoffed loudly, ignoring the fury that ticked at his father’s features. If he had been observing diligently, he would have noticed Haggar lurking in the corner, watching him with a disapproving stare.

“I believe I wouldn’t need over five months to take over one planet and establish a system before the locals revolted,” he answered. His voice was sharp as he smirked at the generals who were now shifting uncomfortably on their feet.

“If that’s the case, then you should be the one in charge of finding and conquering the solar systems at the fringes of our universe,” Zarkon stated, his eyes were cold and hard like ice. “With your confidence, I’m sure your success is guaranteed.”

His father giving him the challenge was not surprising. The shock came from the details. The Emperor was sending his son off to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, only to return when he had taken all the known planets for the Empire. This punishment was different from all others; instead of a test of strength or intellect, Zarkon had chosen banishment, finally growing tired of his sons insolence.

The shock of his exile wore off quickly and he immediately set to work. It was almost a saving grace to be banished from the empire and get away from Central Command. Lotor conquered planets in the name of the Galra Empire. He added new recruits very regularly, allowing those who stood out as brilliant or strong, to rise above the others. It felt wonderful to have such control over his environment, working and strategizing without his father looming over his shoulder.

His exile lasted three centuries, but with the strain of running his battalion and crushing rising rebellions, Lotor hardly noticed. It was only when he received his summons to return to Central Command that he realized how long he was gone.

His return was not announced and the only reception he received when he arrived in the throne room, was Haggar standing before him with a handful of Druids behind her.

His father was no where to be seen.

“Prince Lotor,” Haggar addressed him. Her harsh voice and scrutinizing eyes were not something he had missed while in exile. “Voltron has returned.”

“I heard,” Lotor stated, recalling the whispering and rumours that had been spreading around his ship for the past few months. It had been enormously annoying to find that his effort to capture the Red Lion had been in vain. “Is that the reason for my father’s absence. Is he dead?”

“You’re father is currently recovering from his latest battle against Voltron,” Haggar hissed, confirming that Zarkon was in fact alive. Lotor didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his expression. “You have been summoned to take over in your father’s absence.”

“And when he recovers, I suppose I will be banished once again,” Lotor snipped, crossing his arms and holding his chin up with pride. “I’m half tempted to go back into exile and let him clean up his own mess.”

“Do not make light of this, young prince,” she whispered. “With Princess Allura leading the Paladin’s against the Empire, Voltron is the largest threat we have ever faced. We need to be ready for it.”

Lotor didn’t register the lecture that the old witch gave him. All thoughts in his head had stopped when he heard that name again, for the first time in thousands of years. For a moment, everything within him was still. He scarcely breathed and his heart rate slowed. If there had even been a gust of wind, he would have toppled over.

And then, as if a dam was broken open, his blood rushed through him like a river and his heart began to thud uncontrollably in his chest. He struggled to keep his breathing steady as that name blared in his ears and clawed at his throat. The chaos of his own memories made it nearly impossible for him to snap out of his state of confusion and panic. One thought was able to ring true in his head against all the turmoil.

Allura, the girl from his childhood and the woman he had loved since he was a teenager, was alive.

Events of a life long forgotten flashed before his eyes. All those images had been lost in the vast expanse of his existence. The image of his betrothed was blurry; her face was wrong no matter how hard he tried to imagine it. However, even though the images had faded, the emotions of those events were fresh and they cut into him like a knife.

Haggar - mother, his mind whispered - came up behind him, her bony hand was positioned on his shoulder and her claws bit into his flesh.

“Do not let your past emotions impede you from avenging your father and leading your people,” her hushed whisper rang loudly in his ear. Lotor had to wonder if this was how she would plant ideas in his father’s head. “This Empire needs stability and strength, not weakness.”

Perhaps she said this because she knew of the raging storm within his mind, the frantic pounding of his heart, and she was trying to keep him grounded. Perhaps she simply wanted to push him into action. Though, Lotor didn’t have the mental control to do either. Memories splashed across his vision in bright blinding colours. Lotor could only stare ahead, horrified and elated by his revelation. The revelation he continued to repeat over and over, unable to completely believe it was true.

Allura was alive.

Xxx

So this chapter was more or less just Lotor’s life cause I imagine living for ten thousand years would be pretty nuts/depressing. No Allura in this chapter, but hopefully I make up for that with all the drama for the next chapter.

So I decided to use “Think of Me” from phantom cause I couldn’t not take a song from this musical. Also because, sadly, Lotor wasn’t able to keep thinking of Allura. He eventually forgot her

Hope yall enjoy

Part 1: http://deadlyflames.tumblr.com/post/165175323073/this-is-my-idea

Part 2: http://deadlyflames.tumblr.com/post/165215532378/burn

#prince lotor #princess allura #allura #lotor #lotura #lollura #voltron #Voltron legendary defender #voltron: legendary defender #vld #zarkon #haggar

66 notes · View notes

airoasis · 5 years

Text

The person you really need to marry | Tracy McMillan | TEDxOlympicBlvdWomen

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The person you really need to marry | Tracy McMillan | TEDxOlympicBlvdWomen

Translator: Nadine Hennig Reviewer: Ilze Garda once I was growing up, there was once this track we used to sing on the playground, and it went like this, "Tracy and so and so, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes youngster in a youngster carriage." and i’m like, "adequate, that’s it! That is how you do existence. That is the way you do a relationship. Love, marriage, child carriage. Ok, acquired it! (Laughter) Then I grew up, and this is what my existence grew to become out to be. (Laughter) somewhat extra elaborate, right? (Laughter) Love, marriage, divorce, dry spells, love, marriage, co-parenting, one other marriage, one other divorce; you received the image. (Laughter) (Applause) So if you’re excellent at math and/or a rapid reader, what you will have bought there is that i have been married 3 times. Yep, three, and divorced. What that’s supposed to intend is that i’m a complete failure at relationships. And that’s one option to seem at it, however not the only way.For the reason that what I feel relatively happened is that I saved marrying the flawed character. No, it can be not that I failed to– it is no longer that I chose bad guys. My first two husbands have been mighty men who are actually married to distinguished ladies who are not me. (Laughter) And my 1/3 husband, well, we’re buddies on facebook now. So, all is good that ends good, proper? After the collapse of my 1/3 marriage in 2005, i realized that i have been marrying every person in sight, except the one character that I really wanted to marry in an effort to have a great relationship and that when I married that individual, all of my relationships can be successes, even the screw ups. The so-called failures, clearly.Seeing that we’re talking at present about ladies inventing, i’m going to speak about inventing relationships. What I’ve found via plenty of trial and undoubtedly, many, many, many mistakes, to be the item that has changed my life and love, and that is this inspiration of marrying yourself. So what does it imply to marry your self? It can be a big concept. It’s as large as marriage itself except, if I would simply summarize it, it might be that you simply enter into a relationship with yourself and then you put a hoop on it. (Laughter) In different phrases, you decide to yourself fully. And then you build a relationship with yourself to the point the place you realise that you are whole correct now, that there is not any man, girl, job, circumstance that can occur to you that’s going to make you more entire because you already are. And this alterations your life. By means of now, i’m sure at least some of you’re wondering why you will have to be being attentive to a three-time divorcee talk about marriage? (Laughter) Even to herself.And that i realize that. This is what I must say about that: what I’ve discovered and my experience is that the areas where you could have the most important challenges on your lifestyles end up the places where you’ve essentially the most to give if you happen to do your inside work. I style of want to say that once more: the locations the place you’ve the most important challenges are the places where you might have essentially the most to present. So let me let you know slightly bit in regards to the individual I truly wanted to marry: myself. I’m from Minneapolis. Wooh! (Laughter) My mother was a prostitute and an alcoholic. She put me in foster care when I was once three months ancient. My dad was a criminal; he used to be a drug vendor and a pimp with a heart of gold – actually, they both had hearts of gold – and he spent roughly my whole existence in prison.He simply got out of jail after his most contemporary sentence which used to be two decades. Unless the age of nine, I used to be mainly in two dozen foster homes. The thing you must know about this story – there are numerous small print, absolutely – but the factor you have to understand is that I got here out of that childhood with one intention: to under no circumstances be left. The way I was once going to do this is that I used to be going to get married. That used to be the best way I used to be going to accomplish that intention. So I bought married the primary time to a man I met when I used to be 17. We got married a couple of years later, after I used to be 19.He was a particularly just right man from a nice loved ones, he had an MBA. I mean, it was like, you know, marriage material. You understand, I was once thrilled. I was like, "i’ve a household. I belong somewhere. This is special." after which after five years I left him. Then ten years later, I acquired married again to another exotic man, who is the daddy of my now sixteen-years-historic son.We still have a exclusive relationship. He’s a really excellent guy. However after 4 years I left him, too. And i’m not proud to claim that I did that, however with the intention to relatively marry your self, you ought to get in many instances very painfully honest with your self about what it’s that you have carried out. So i am no longer happy with that. Then eight years later, I got married once more, once I used to be 40, and i used to be like, "good enough, this feels right!" Let me let you know what felt correct to a girl who used to be in 24 foster houses: a guy who began to date after nine months of marriage; essentially, he began relationship a 21-12 months-old lady. Ok, I imply, it could be humorous, if it weren’t so tragic. You have got to have a way of… For this reason we’re facebook friends. So, right here i am looking at this person that I simply described with a horrible track document of relationships, and i’m like, "i am presupposed to marry her? That is the girl you want me to marry?" And the reply is sure. Since here is the deal: the item about marrying yourself isn’t just like cohabitating. You’re no longer just going so far for a at the same time and notice the way it turns out.You will do this till dying do you part. You are going to take vows. So here are the vows. Number 1: you will marry your self for richer or for poorer. This implies you’re going to love yourself correct the place you’re. You don’t say to your self, "whilst you get to the corner of Hollywood and Vine, then i will marry you." you do not say, "when you lose ten kilos, then i’ll love you." And you do not say, "for those who hadn’t married that loser, I would really like you, but on account that you did, i am sorry, I suppose it is over." while you marry yourself, you walk yourself down that aisle precisely the place you might be. And paradoxically, I located that loving myself exactly the place i am is the one technique to get the place i am going. Number 2: you are going to marry yourself for higher or for worse. What this implies is that almost all of us are inclined to like ourselves for higher, I imply, sure, i’m having a first-class hair day today. I love me. (Laughter) that’s now not what i’m speakme about. I am speaking about for worse, you recognize, the big existence disappointments.Might be you do not own a home, you failed to get the career you desired, probably you did not graduate from university, or get the connection you desired. Possibly it hasn’t became out– possibly you fight along with your mum, probably you watch too much reality television, whatever it’s, it isn’t important anymore. Because when you marry your self, you settle to stay with you it doesn’t matter what. 0.33, you marry your self in ailment and in health. What this means is that you simply forgive yourself in your mistakes. A mistake is not certainly a failure except you do not be trained from it and unless you don’t grow.There is a announcing, "You ask for endurance, and what you get is a line at the financial institution." (Laughter) What that implies is that lifestyles does no longer offer you what you have got requested for, it gives you the humans, areas, and situations that permit you to boost what you ask for. And the item is that if you don’t get it proper the first time, life will give it to you once more. (Laughter) on the grounds that existence could be very generous that manner. It’s like I didn’t get it the primary time, in the first marriage, and that i didn’t get it the 2nd time, maybe the third time i will get it.So within that terrible experience of that 1/3 marriage, I realized something about "in health problem and in well being". What I realized is how to take a seat by means of my possess bedside, and find out how to preserve my own hand, and easy methods to nurse myself, and methods to relief myself. What I realized is that i’m a person that i can count on. Final however no longer least, you marry yourself– when you marry your self, it can be to have and to maintain your self. What does it imply to have and to hold? Well, I suppose it means that you love yourself the way you want someone else to like you. I had always been going by way of lifestyles with this sense of lack. I felt like I was once kind of 1/2 a individual, and that I used to be lacking something. I went into my relationships hoping to solve this feeling that I had my complete life: that I was once now not whole unless any individual loved me.The reality was that I wasn’t ever going to suppose entire until I realized to love myself. So this trade of marrying yourself transforms each discipline of your lifestyles: your business, family relationships, children, social relationships, pals. On the grounds that while you marry yourself, this gigantic factor happens: you become able to like on this whole new way. You become capable to love different persons proper the place they are, for who they’re, the same approach you’re already loving your self. And of course, this is what the sector needs more of. So when I married myself, and i spotted that I already had the whole thing I wanted, I began seeing it as my job to clearly just remove darkness from my little corner of the sector. That is my new job. Considering I do not want anything, I have already got it. So when I take conferences, it is all about how can i aid this person reap her intention? When I’m in my social communities, it is like what am i able to deliver to this that handiest i will bring? Once I go on dates, it is like how can i simply detect another character might be for just one hour which, of path, brings me a full circle.On account that people continually requested me about my love lifestyles; they wish to be aware of. (Laughter) you know, the answer is, i am nonetheless working on it. Don’t seem to be all of us? So this is where i’m proper now. About three months in the past, I went on a primary date. About 30 minutes into the date, I found myself paying attention not to whether or not he appreciated me, but how I felt in his presence. I spotted that I was once light, comfortable, joking. As I mirrored on the date afterwards, I was like, "Wow, I acquired rather excited! Look, that is how committed i am to myself." i’m not even on this date trying to get any person to like me. I am more desirous about how I suppose about me than how he feels about me, no longer on the grounds that i am egocentric, but considering the only relationship i’m ever going to have with yet another individual is the one who i’m already having with myself – just going to have it with them now.So it became out he appreciated me, and we are nonetheless together. It’s cool and powerful, however i have been married 3 times, so sluggish down! (Laughter) the object is that i’m no longer trying to get protection from him through marriage, and, God forbid, a baby carriage. I’m handiest right here to only be in a relationship. I’m not loss of life to listen to the phrases, "Will you marry me?" for the reason that although these words are very powerful – and really robust to a man or woman like me – I are not looking for them to listen to it from him because i have already heard them from myself. The way in which I see it’s like I took myself to the highest of a mountain, or possibly to the bottom of the ocean, and that i got down on one knee, and that i stated, "i’m going to never depart you." And now i’m married to the one man or woman I particularly desired to be with all along, myself.(Applause) thank you. (Applause) .

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