#I did one run and we killed the queen without too many errors from myself as a fighter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morallyinept · 5 months

Text

A full transcribe of EZRA'S dialogue/lines from the film PROSPECT.

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

Please also see my Writing For Ezra Guide for further analysis of his character and dialect.

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

__________________

Edited - I've been made aware of some errors since the original posting of this, so I've edited it to correct. Special thanks to those who have let me know! 🖤

__________________

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

*Fading in* … Curious.

Don't see too many kips around these ways anymore.

Not a kip… a returner!

Is that a serious question?

I believe you, gentle man.

But my partner always needs a little convincing. He'll just kill me, if I let you go without a thorough search. I never caught your name, friend.

Nice to meet you, Damon. I'm Ezra. I can't tell you how refreshing it is… hoo, to encounter another talker. It's been quite some time since we've run into anyone with fluid in motion. Where're you from, Damon?

How poetic. I take it you're a, hmm… floater? Freelancer. You don’t look very Fringely.

Yeah, don’t we all.

Alright, Damon. Understand what, now?

Damon, it has truly been a pleasure, but… pleasantries passed, it's time to gut the fencer. To be completely candid, this haul has proven to disappoint. Me and my partner both feel we deserve… satisfaction. You understand?

So, how did you get here, Damon?

Your ship. Where is it? Or perhaps a ship is a tick too rich for you, a drop pod, I reckon.

Excellent. The starter, if you don't mind.

Where is it? Don't make me root for it, Damon. I guarantee you, I'll make it an unnecessarily painful process.

That is not necessarily true. Nevertheless, continuing within the act of killing is a broad spectrum of technique. So, there is still an incentive for you to acquiesce if that's where you're getting at.

A twist? Go on.

And why would you be so cryptic under rails? You are lucky I am not immune to intrigue. But be careful you don't overplay this technique.

I've seen my share.

That's a theory.

It's funny. I don't see any mercs. Where are they?

Okay. I'd like to believe you. Admittedly, more out of desire than good sense. But Damon… if there is talk of the queen’s lair, the excitement is all but in involuntary.

And there's three of us. We split it in thirds. That's an even split.

This is so exciting!

__________________

What did your outfit look like, back in the day? You've always went solo?

Fancy. We had a full crawling party when we arrived here. Not one of your freighter takes, a testin' screamer.

Mercs in the Green, huh? Last I heard the word "merc" was way back when Crebon raiders hit up all the corporate expeditions.

Caero clan? You friendly with these fellas?

These cables… Goddamn it.

You know, this is something I have never seen in all my time on The Green. A little girl.

Damon, I have clearly underestimated you, I must stop doing that.

Damon… Does this mean that the plan is off? You have me all up and bothered over the queen's lair, Damon.

Alright, you can have your fabled spoils all to yourself. But if your talk of the queen's lair is true… this is just a scratch.

Your girl is scared. You should listen to her. No harm done, yet.

It's a shame, Damon. We could've been rich together.

__________________

You got a field-kit?

Hey! Field-kit!

Are you gonna shoot?

That is… technically true.

Kevva waits, girl! Shoot or help! Just make a move.

Get me a kit and we can talk.

Your offer is indeed generous. Y'know, I'd be more than happy to sign and seal, save for one glaring slip. My ship.

Well I did. Then there was an event with my crew concerned in a bit of Aurelac and… words and metal flew. And now, I don't. We're in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well.

Whoa! Whoa! Just slow down a beat there, little bird. At least wait for the counter-offer.

How is it you intend to get home? That is the goal. Am I right?

The Mercs. They’re real aren’t they? Mmm-hmm. And the queen's lair? Mmm-hmm.

You are making a run for them.

Listen, I know well the lure of vengeance. I myself have… frequently indulged, and I have not often found regret. But in this moment, right here, I'm afraid for both our sakes, I must riposte.

I say, we go to your mercs. I play the prospector. And together we ravage the queen.

Let me help you. I can harvest. I can offer protection. A girl your age, a child, wanders into a camp of fringely mercs, raw. At the end of the tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies? They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.

That's the fringe, girl. If you're one to point fingers at extortion, well, there's not much I can say.

Now, hold on. I'm keen to make the case that Damon killed himself.

He was trying to steal my trophy case, is what he was trying to do. A man's work is no petty thing. To you, his daughter… I truly apologise for my contribution to his passing. But he was stealing my entire harvest. And actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions. Your father knew that, and if didn't, then he had no business in The Green.

I am, indeed. But, are you?

It was all in the name of self-preservation, birdie, it was nothing personal.

I’m your safest route home and in the end we’ll both be rich.

Of course. There is one more thing. My filter's spent. I'm gonna need a hook-up.

__________________

What is your name?

Do you mind if I take a look?

What do you know about these mercs? When did they arrive? How many are there?

He didn’t tell you anything? It's bad practice keeping you in the dark, if you ask me.

A deep partnership is only made so by candid discourse.

Number Two was more of a utility than a partner. And it seems like your father treated you the same way.

What's your name?

Well, I have to call you something.

Oi, Number Three. Watch that tube, girl. Straight finger.

Thank you.

If you don't know the thing about channel rats, is when they fornicate, they excrete a hormone substance - I don't really know what it's called - but it's uncannily sticky, it cocks up electrics. And it smells exactly like, but significantly more potent than, stale human urine.

Anyways, we stripped every panel in that ship. We clubbed those rat beavers to death. Two at a time. It was a toilsome marathon of carnage. We never did find the nest.

You know, eventually, you're gonna have to trust me.

Just give me a moment.

You should keep the thrower low, we could be surrounded.

I said, keep it low.

Don't show any sign of aggression. Drop it. Put your hands above your head.

Just do it.

Just do it! Now!

We have to follow him. The wound would appear… ideal bite. It still has some venom. The dust. It’s found its way in and now it festers. The Sater are religious settlers and tedious scavengers. They should be amenable to trade for medical supplies.

We don’t have a choice.

Shoot me, then.

__________________

(Greets in Sater language) I have sustained a wound that, due to inadequate treatment, now festers pink. I was hoping you had some juice?

Thank you, sir. We are tremendously grateful.

I thought perhaps it might interest you for trade.

A wise and understandable measure. We shall stow them at our discretion and return shortly, unarmed. Is that acceptable to you and your colleagues?

Here.

__________________

That was beautiful.

Juice. It's good for you, cleanses the dust.

Thank you for your kindness. Now, as you can see, I have sustained a trauma to my shoulder. I would much like to flush it with your magic juice. And to keep straight… we would also be very much interested in proper dressing, and filter refreshers, if you have them and can spare them? In return for your gracious offering, we are prepared to compensate with generosity in equal measure.

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

That is a bold offer.

What do you need her for?

__________________

(Ezra’s radio transmission) Hello! Hello to the green! I got… *inaudible*... I got one or two fourteen grade root pearls that I'm willing to part with for well over the peakest of rush rates. Nothing funny. Just a desperate man trying to make a bad deal with the right hold out. If anyone is out there, don't hesitate to click on...

Take your helmet off.

You look like shit. Eat it. There’s cases of 'em in here.

Here. I need your help.

After you left, those Sater weren't too keen on helping me out… So I had to treat myself. I botched the excision. I was unable to clean and scrape the blackness. Now if I don't lose my arm, it'll kill me. And I can't perform the procedure by myself.

No.

You ever use one of these before? It's easy. Prime it like this… then there are five levels of intensity. Two for the flesh, four for bone. You got it?

Thank you.

I won't feel a thing. Hack away. Quick, confident strokes are best. Try to go full circuit on the first cut.

I've never had to use these surettes before. Kind of nice… tingling, almost like… oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit!

Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit.

No, I don’t know. Keep going, you're doing great. Keep going until you hit bone.

I’m gonna miss him. My primary weapon, been with me my whole life. Always there, ready to help, no job too gritty, no love too intimidating.

Up to four, as soon as it's off, give my stump a hearty coat in the juice and cream it all shut! Clear?

How are you so calm? You've done this before.

__________________

So, where’s home?

Spoken like a true floater. What's that book you carry around?

"Streamer Girl"?

You wrote a novel?

There's not a lot of literature in circulation out here.

Well, it seems I must.

You memorised it?

Not at all. It's quite impressive.

Focus on what?

Well, you can't… you can't think like that. You go down that path, it's not good. If you need someone to blame, you blame me. You need to think about your next move. Be on that freighter in a tick.

It’s nice to meet you, Cee.

__________________

Well. There's our ride.

Stay clear and close and I’ll talk us through. When it comes time to dig, I’ll need you to be sharp. I've never harvested one-handed before. I'm gonna need some help. But we'll keep it creamy and it’ll all be fine.

Damon, here for the dig. You wouldn't believe the time we’ve had of it, getting here. I wholeheartedly apologise for being late. But after the storm tidied us off mark, we were already a cycle back and naturally-

I wholeheartedly apologize. You wouldn't believe…

Well, actually… uh, before we get started. I'm afraid I must interject. I haven't been completely candid with you yet. After an erring landing and toilsome trick, there is one more significant detail to our story, one that forces us to leverage our talents for little bit more than the agreed upon price.

It's not more of a cut we're after. The points are more than adequate payment for the two of us. Rather it's a means of transit we lack.

Well, now, what she means to say is that while transport is a requisite part of the deal, we are willing to forgo two points. Which by any reckoning is exorbitant compensation for a hop into orbit.

Oh, come now. In a prize… Scrap well over the weight of the passenger and a half. Cargo braces. That's one hundred, one-thirty right there.

You're not understanding me. Everything has changed. If you're not willing to scrap payload, scrap crew for all I care, but you'll find a way, if you want that buried treasure.

I am the gatekeeper to more wealth than any of us have ever seen, and you've been wasting in The Green for far too long to let that slip away. I'm afraid, I am the only means to the successful end of your venture. And I say the terms have changed. Thirteen, plus a ride for me and my partner on your handsome craft or no deal. Find a way.

My boy, this is a winner! I think a little back up thrust is an easy drop under the circumstances. What do you say, boss?

Gentlemen. And women… Let's get rich!

__________________

Strange method for an execution. What did this fella do to land him in the box?

How convoluted!

Somebody ought to give her a go.

That's the price for a dry breach. But my chem will calm the brine.

Hello, sweetheart.

It's a big one.

You got it? Hold it nice and tight.

Hold it like you love it.

Oh. That's perfect.

Slippery son of a bitch.

No, no, no. Shit!

Not to worry, we go again.

(Muttering to self) *Inaudible* (?)leech on the(?) …cock spitters … cannot fuck more nuggets in this sleep for snatch, pearls…

It's a little difficult to carve weak-handed!

Now hold on!

Those shots will bring the rest of ‘em in.

I don’t know.

Greedy fool! Couldn't help himself. Took a stumble, getting a closer look. Now, time presses and I am gonna need assistance if we're-

Go, go, go!

Move!

I'm out.

If we uncouple you can run a distraction, opening me up for the backstab.

Are you sure?

You run fast and you don’t stop. You keep plenty of trees between you and her. You come straight back here as soon as I make the kill so we can re-couple. Clear?

You need to go. You grab the gun and you go. You can make it.

Get outta here!

__________________

DELETED SCENE:

What is your name?

Well, I have to call you something.

Once, a long time ago, there was a channel rat. Well, first there was an entire nest. Caulked up in the floorboards of my skimmer, this was back when I was running catkins with my brother in Parson.

If you don’t know, thing about channel rats, is when they fornicate, they excrete a hormone substance - I don’t remember what it's called - but the relevant details are that it is uncannily sticky, it cocks up electrics, and it smells exactly like, but significantly more potent than, stale human urine.

So, this horny cohort is scrambling around unseen, plastering up my walls with their piss paste, and the smell… was so horrific. And we had to wear nuke suits all the time, even when we slept.

So, after we exhausted our repertoire of civilised extermination methods, it soon devolved into barbarism.

We stripped every panel in that ship and clubbed those rat beavers to death, two at a time. It was a toilsome marathon of carnage. But the bag of corpses steadily grew heavier.

We never did find the nest. But by the end of the run, we were down to what as far as we could tell was the last rat standing. This little bitch waits until we make ground fall, saunters into the galley, climbs up onto the table, and I spin you not, stands right up on its hind legs and starts calmly munching on a piece of bush bread.

Maybe it was our impending reunion with civilization, or maybe it was exhaustion, but neither of us could bring ourselves to bash that last channel rat. So we just sat there and watched it eat the entire biscuit.

When it was done, it walked over to the airlock, waited at the hatch as if it expected us to just open it, so we did. And then walked out.

You remind me of that channel rat, so in the absence of a given moniker, I will now call you Channel Rat.

Number Three it is.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#ezra prospect #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ezra prospect 2018 #prospect film #prospect 2018 #ezra dialogue

163 notes · View notes

kayxleeee · 3 years

Text

Loki Laufeyson:Delusions (Loki x Reader)

Warning: NONE! Slight Mean + Sad Loki

A/N: Love this one! I always feel so bad for Loki in Thor The Dark World :(

Summary: After Loki returns to Asgard he is immediately sent to prison for his crimes on Earth. Unfortunate events occur when Asgard is under attack and you just want nothing more than to check in on your beloved.

Word Count: 2k+

*NOT MY GIF* Do not copy my work

The news of Loki return to Asgard was both worrisome and exciting. There were rumors being spread about that he was returning as a fugitive for the destruction of not only earth, but the crimes that he had committed against Asgard. You of course found yourself just happy to know that he was alive. He may not had been well, but sure he was very much alive.

Living. Breathing. Speaking.

Out of all Thor’s closest friends, you and Loki bounded the most, which caused you solely, to develop feelings for him. These feelings would lead to a sever fallout between you and your warrior companions. With Loki’s criminal accusations, hate and critism came from many, especially from Sif and Fandral. For you to still think highly of him,--well you were considered a traitor in their eyes.

When he returned you were forbidden to pay him any visits. Odin also ordered that the only visitors Loki received were of kin and even those visits were kept very minimal. Now with the unbearable news of Frigga’s death you worried about his sanity even more than before.

The queen has been deceased for a few days now, Thor was easily consoled by Jane’s presents and the support of the Asgardian people who were also mourning their queen. However no one was concerned for the fallen prince, except for you. You knew that his crimes were severe, but nothing was more torturous than knowing of your mothers death and there is nothing for you to do because you are locked away without even the slightest hope of saying goodbye.

For days you try to receive information on the location of where Loki was being held. You are a warrior of Asgard, you should have known these things, but because of your so-called bias-ness for the Prince of Mischief you weren’t allowed. Your inquiries about Loki’s whereabouts in the palace were extremely noticeable and you received a lot of animosity for it, especially from Lady Sif. She called you stupid and selfish for wanting to see him. You were also accused of not having any dignity or self respect. No one would tell you directly where Loki was being held, but with enough sneaking around the palace, you finally over heard a few guards speaking of his whereabouts.

With the common criminals.

You have been watching two sets of guards for more than an hour. You wanted to slip past them undetected, but you needed to wait for the perfect moment. You weren't one of the most skilled warriors in fighting but you were known for your intelligence and abilities to be clever in any situation. The plan was for you to create a diversion to get the guards away from the staircase leading down to the dungeons. You knew that since the palace had been attacked from the inside out the guards would be on high alert. You cast a large stone, breaking a window to which the guards attention is drawn to the noise. They run into the direction of the shattering glass. As you sneak past them, the memories of Stif warning you fills your mind as you flip into the entrance running down the concrete staircase as quickly as possible.

“It’ll be the last thing you do” She threatened.

“He is a prisoner, he knows his crime.” She scoffed

“If you go to him, we will know where your loyalties lie.”

“Loki cares nothing about you, he is a man who cares simply for himself.”

You reach the bottom of the large steps, hoping you were turning down the correct corridor as you ran quickly. You notice on your way that the majority of the cells are completely empty. This worried you, but did not stop you from searching for him. You luckily reach his location without any mishaps.

“Loki!” You announce breathlessly watching as he paced around the small room with his back turned away from you.

His cell was tidy, clean as if he had not touched a single thing. He had all of his things that brought him comfort; fancy furniture, books, papers, and pens. You knew that Loki loved to read because the two of you spent the majority’s of your time together in the library. You felt at ease knowing that he at least had that. This was of course curtsy of the Queen; she asked for these items. Although he was being punished, the only thing she wanted for her dear son was that he was comfortable in his confinement no matter what he had done.

“What is it ?!” He snapped turning around to face you. He took heed in your presence and then pressed his lips into a thin line. “Ah, Lady (Y/n).” He greets you calmly, then an amused grin appears on his face. “Here to tell me the mighty King has passed on too?”

His comment took you by surprise, you assumed he would be just as grateful to see you, as you were to see him.

“Don’t be so morbid Loki!” You cut him off with offense frowning your face in confusion. “With the news of your mother passing, I would think you’d have far-more compassion for your family, for Asgard.”

“My family.” He repeats, mocking your charismatic tone placing his hand over his chest. “My Family is not here on Asgard. My family are no more than those disgusting vile creatures you fight and kill.”

“Loki I know you’re hurting, I know you have all this anger built up, but you have to know that you do have family and loved ones here on Asgard.” You say subtlety hinting at yourself. “I did not come here to be mocked.” You say in a calming voice as he walks over to you.

You place a hand on the enchanted glass as you look up to his figure continuing to speak. “I am not one for your dramatics, I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Holding up?” He lets out a malice laugh. “Ha! Holding up?! I am locked in a cage like an animal!”

You slam your fist against the glass in annoyance realizing your loving reunion was falling flat. You did not come here to argue with this man, you didn’t even plan far enough to think of exactly what you wanted to say, but it was never envisioned like this.

“And who’s fault is that Loki?! Who’s fault!?” You snap matching his dramatic tone.

“My own! For trusting idiots!” He yells back and you can’t help but think what idiots he were referring to. He continues, “Why are you even down here, Odin forbade anyone from seeing me, you can’t be THAT stupid. Or perhaps you want to cast more stones?”

“Cast stones?— I came here as a friend Loki. All this worrying I did for you, all the tears and regrets. I risked my own life and freedom by coming down here” You scoff rolling your eyes at his demeanor. “Just to be spat on by you?”

“Better I to you, then you to me.” He laughs.

“That is your problem, you always think people want to hurt you just as bad as you want to hurt them! Look at you and your brother, he mourned you, we all did, and you go and do this? Destroy and take over the only place he loves. What did you gain?!”

“Oh bullshit! That place was nothing, but a pathetic little wasteland! They needed ORDER.”

“They needed no such thing Loki, YOU needed a sense of belonging.” You say with emphasis.

“My god you’re just as delusional as my brother .” He laughs.

“Delusional?!” You yell.

“Yes.” He says calmly, pleased at how angry he was making you. He walks away and sits on his couch crossing his legs and resting his arms on top of them. “D-e-l-u-s-i-o-n-a-l, delusional.”

As he walked away you noticed a single error in his walk as if it all was an illusion. Something that only someone who knew Loki would catch if they payed close enough attention.

“Enough, no more illusions Loki. Show me your true state, I know you are not this heartless. The only person who stands here delusional is you!”

With that, what you thought was the real Loki fades away in shimmers. A much sadder scene formed before you. The cell becomes a mess, with the once neat furniture, either broken or distorted across the room. The scuff marks on the walls concluded that he had thrown the furniture with immense force. His beloved books were ripped and torn to shreds, and his once neat clothes tattered and disheveled. Your eyes meet his saddened pale figure sitting on the floor near something he recently broken. Fresh blood oozes down his foot as the glass that was lodge in him is discarded next to him on the floor.

“IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE!? A BROKEN MAN YOU SEE !?” His unruly hair falls into his face as he screams at the top of his lungs, veins bulging from his neck.

You immediately go to the side panel that unlocks the cell, running to his aid. You kneel beside him where there is not much debris, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. He barriers himself deep into your neck letting out a silent sob. You hold him close as if you never wanted to let him go.

“I am here Loki.” You whisper to him placing a kiss to the top of his head.

You have never in your seen the Prince so weak, so fragile, so upset, so venerable. This all must have taken a huge toll on him, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“ I did not want this for myself, I did not want this, not for her.” He says lowly as his voice breaks.

“I know.” You rub his back softly. “But you have to know that she loved you unconditionally with all her being, Loki.”

“I-, I don’t believe that.” He sighs with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “No one could ever.”

“That should not be hard to believe because I do, I love you too, I love you unconditionally.”

“You love me?” Asked confused he pulls away from your embrace looking at you with puffy red eyes.

“Yes.” You admit.

“You surely love as a friend correct?” He questions with squinted eyes.

“More.” You place a hand on his cheek giving him a small reassuring smile. “I’ve always loved you Loki, more than a companion, way before any of this.”

He places his hand over yours, giving you a weak smile, then leans in to kiss you. You were surprised , but quickly adapted the new feeling. The kiss was sweet and slow, so slow it felt as if time had stopped. He pulls away resting his forehead against yours.

“This probably is the best news I’ve received all week.” He says with a light chuckle. "I'm so sorry."

You smile pecking his lips once more before speaking again.

“I hope you know that for me to love you unconditionally, that I know who you are deep down. I know you aren’t all bad. I know that you had your reasons for going to earth and ruining New York, just as you had reasons for all the mayhem you have created. What was it ?” You say attempting to have him open up more.

“My reasoning ?” He asked in an unsure voice. “ I do not know.” He concluded turning way to look forward as if he was thinking.

“I find that very hard to believe Loki.” You say resting your head on his shoulder, taking his hand. “But I’m here whenever you’re ready to open up.”

It was true, you never thought Loki was all bad, you knew that there had to be reasons behind his mischief and misunderstanding. A few minutes passed of the two of you just being in one another’s presents. You imagined in other circumstances, this is how Thor felt when he Jane, as if nothing else matter other than the fact that they had each other.

“It…. His name was Thanos, after I fell from the birfrost—” He finally spoke, but it was short lived.

“(Y/n)!” You hear Thor shout from the other end of the cell interrupting. He states at the two of you intensely.

“Thor it is not what is seems.” You say imagining Lady Sif would soon be on her was as well.

“You are not in trouble (Y/n), but I need to speak to my brother, alone.”

You turn your attention back to Loki and he nods patting your hand. The two of you get up and Loki weakly walks you over to the entrance of the cell that you previously came through.

“We can talk later, you know I’ll be here.” He looks at you with a knowing grin placing another kiss on your lips, before Turing to his brother.

You nod turning away to leave the two alone to talk. You had hopes that one day you and Loki could somehow be together, and finish that conversation, but today was clearly not that day.

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x you #loki x black!reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #thor and loki #thor x reader #thor the dark world #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #loki x y/n #loki headcanon #loki of asgard #tom hiddelston imagine #mcu loki #marvel #black reader x avenger #mcu bwww

288 notes · View notes

intoanothermind · 3 years

Text

Beauty Queen - Chapter 10

B E A U T Y Q U E E N

Synopsis: You are the Ice Princess of Narnia during the Long Winter. Your sister Jadis, the White Witch, hates that you’re always helping Narnians escape prision. She decides to hunt you down and you have to run away from the palace. What happens when you find the four humans lost in Narnia?

- Edmund Pevensie x reader

Masterlist

(There’s probably a lot of errors, but I just translated real quick because there’s been ages since I updated.)

—-

C H A P T E R T E N

They walked through the snow that lazily melted. Their footprints showed the path they passed through towards the frozen river. Of course, no one could erase the footprints so the maximum they could do was to speed up the pace so they wouldn't get caught.

“Come on, humans! While we are young!’ yelled Mr. Beaver, who went ahead to show them the way.

“If he rushes us again...” Peter said, bending so Lucy could jump on his back. “I'll make him into a very cute hat.”

Susan let out a quiet laugh.

“Quick! Come on!” cried the Beaver, a few meters in front of others.

“He's getting bossy!” said Lucy.

“No!” cried Mrs. Beaver. ”Look behind you! It's her!”

They looked and saw a few meters away, a carriage that glided easily through the snow. Lucy jumped off Peter's back and they all ran.

“Run!” cried Mr. Beaver.

They heard the reindeer hooves getting closer and closer and knew it wasn’t a good thing. They ran across the snowy field and came to the edge of a forest, where they spotted a small cave between the roots of a tree. They saw the snow fall slightly to his feet only when they saw a big fat shadow walk close to the rock where they were hidden behind. They could see the person's shadow reflected in a snowy dune in front of them. They saw the shadow moving away, almost giving up.

They looked at the dune curiously while the beaver sniffed the air in a desperate manner.

“It seems...” whispered Lucy. “That it’s gone.”

“I better go see it.” said Peter, about to come out of hiding.

“You will not serve Narnia dead.” said the Beaver, turning to the opening.

“And neither do you, old man.” said Mrs. Beaver.

“Thank you darling.”

That being said, the Beaver got out of hide, sniffing and crawling to find out if they were gone or not. There were moments of tension between those present. Suddenly, the beaver appears on the edge of the rock, causing Lucy to cry out.

“Get out! Get out!” said the Beaver. “I hope you’ve been nice, because you have a visitor!” And then left.

They came out of hiding, a little afraid. In front of them was a fat man with a white beard. He wore a wine red cloak over ordinary red.

The man laughed.

“Merry Christmas, sir.” said Lucy, approaching.

“For sure, Lucy.” He said, his voice hoarse. “Ever since you arrived.”

“ Look, I can take a lot of things since I arrived...” Susan said to Peter. “But this!”

“We thought you were the Witch!” interrupted Peter, addressing the man.

“I'm sorry, sorry for the bad way, but I must say that I've been driving one of these for longer than the Witch.” He said, referring to the carriage.

“I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia.” said Susan, also approaching him.

“No.” the man replied. “Not for a long time. But the hope you have brought, Your Majesties... it begins to weaken the Witch' power. However, I dare say you might need these.”

He turned and took a big red bag from the sled .

“Gifts!” said Lucy, excited.

The man opened the bag, revealing boxes, teddy bears and many other things. He took out a small dagger sheath and a flask with a dark liquid.

“The juice of the fire flower.” he said, showing them the vial. “A single drop heals any wound.”

He handed the vial carefully to Lucy, who studied it carefully.

“Although I hope you never use it...” he said, handing her the red scabbard that contained a small dagger.

“Thank you, sir, but...” said Lucy. “I wouldn't be able to not be afraid.”

“I bet you would.” he replied. “But battles are ugly fights.”

Lucy nodded and walked away. The man picked up a basket of arrows with an ornate bow.

“Susan.” and called her and Susan approached. “Trust this bow. It will almost never go wrong.”

Susan took the bow.

“But didn't you say that battles are ugly fights?” she asked.

He laughed.

“Although I have no trouble expressing myself...” he said, showing her a small white trumpet. “blow this, and wherever you are the help will come.”

“Thanks.” she said.

The man turned and took a sheath from a large sword.

“Peter.”

The boy approached, afraid.

“The time to use this may be close.” said the man, handing him a sword and a shield.

Peter drew his sword and they all could see that there was something written on the blade.

“Thank you sir.” said Peter analysing it.

“They're guns, not toys. Use it well and wisely. Now I need to go. Winter is the almost at the end...” he said, turning to the big bag into the sleigh. “and everything accumulates when you disappear for a hundred years.”

He turned to everyone and said, before getting on the sled.

“Long live Aslam! And Merry Christmas!”

And he was gone, while everyone shouted different farewells.

“I said he was real!” said Lucy, turning to Susan.

“He said that winter...” said Pedro. “it's almost over.” and turned concerned to the girls and the beavers. “Didn't you notice?!”

When the girls looked at him confused, he continued.

“No more ice.”

~ * ~

Y/N ran like never before. She heard the howling of the wolves behind her. She could almost be sure that they would surround her from the front too, but didn't have much time left. She could try a spell, but that would only slow them down a bit. She could fight, but there were too many and they would surely defeat her. She needed a more complete plan. Then, while running through the forest, trying to lose them, she finally looked at the trees. Of course! The trees! She could hide in the trees for a while, until she was sure the wolves were far away.

Then, without warning, she brought up an extensive wall of ice in the snow between her and the wolves. And while they were thinking about how to overcome the obstacle, she quickly climbed a tree, a little further away. She used a spell to hide her scent and make it seem like she continued running. When the wolves came around the ice wall, they moved on without noticing Y/N's location. When she was sure that the howls were gone in the distance, she descended from the tree and continued her walk towards the frozen river. She knew that there would be the best way to go towards the Stone Table. She just didn't think she would see a shocking scene before that.

Several meters ahead of her, near the frozen waterfall, was the three Pevensie with the beavers, surrounded by the wolves that chased her on both sides. And their voices were propagated to her.

“Go while you can.” said the wolf, approaching them and forcing them to join closer to the liquid water. “and your sister goes with you.”

“Stop, Peter!” shouted Susan above the noise of the ice breaking. “Better do what he says!”

“Smart girl.” said the wolf.

“Don't believe him!” shouted the beaver, struggling. “Kill him! Kill him now!”

Y/N looked around uneasily. She knew that Maugrin was lying, but wouldn’t be able to reach them time. She would be caught by the wolves before that. But she needed to do something to help them. Next to her there wasn’t much she could use, but then she returned her gaze to the discussion the just a few meters away from the frozen waterfall. The waterfall!

“Oh, please, that war isn’t yours!” Said the wolf, getting closer. “My queen just wants the good of your family and they disappear.”

“Look, just because a man in red handed you a sword, you can’t pretend you’re a hero!” Susana said. “Put it down!”

“No , Peter!” cried the beaver. “Narnia needs you! Kill him while you still have a chance!”

Y/N quickly gathered the snow that was on the banks of the river and transformed it into an bow of ice. She also made some arrows of ice and aimed right at the waterfall, at its weakest point. Ice and snow were her specialty, so even from afar, she could make out the weakest part that had been frozen. She lauched five arrows in that point, which went unnoticed by all.

“How will it be, Son of Adam?” asked the wolf, near Peter's sword. “I won’t wait forever. Neither will the river!”

Y/N threw her bow and arrow in the floor, and it quickly returned to snow. She concentrated on the crack she had made in the waterfall. Melting the ice was far more difficult than forming it, but she always did it anyway. This time, however, instead of helping, the adrenaline was holding her back. Then she gave up trying to melt the ice, she needed to think about something else. And fast.

Lucy looked at the waterfall. It was collapsing.

“Oh no!” She murmured to herself and then shouted. “Peter!”

Y/N then had an idea. She stared at the frozen waterfall, that was starting to crack, and the extended her hands in front of her.

Peter looked desperately for the next safe thing to do.

“Hold on to me!” He shouted.

With a sudden movement, Y/N pulled her arms away, and the waterfall came down.

#edmund pevensie #King Edmund #edmund the just #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie x y/n #pevensie #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #aslam #narnia #narnia imagine #The Chronicles of Narnia

56 notes · View notes

papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

Text

LUCY vs TIME

June 22, 1973

The publicity photos, from the movie set of Mame were unrecognizable. Unrecognizable! Why, they were unbelievable. Either somebody had shot them through six layers of soft-focus gauze - or a time machine.

Who was this frisky redhead hoofer kicking up her heels on the distant reaches of some resplendent soundstage, cannily avoiding a camera close-up?

Who was this svelte eyed lady fluttering from beneath a fringed rug of false lashes, not a wrinkle, sag or bag, not to mention even an expression line, sporting her famous face?

Well, clearly the lady was a star. And as star of Warner Brothers' new $8 million musical version of Mame, Lucille Ball had veto rights over all still photographs.

The trouble was that obviously nobody had had the nerve to tell her that if she could order reality rubbed out of a picture with a wave of the retoucher's brush, she couldn't pull the gauze over the eyes of an interviewer ushered into the Mame set to confront the living flesh, unretouched.

Time has not been unkind to Lucille Ball. No, beneath a billowing wine velvet and cream satin lounge suit, the svelte one-time chorus-girl's curves are still obvious. Despite a badly broken right leg from a skiing accident that had left the shooting of Mame stalled and the star in a cast for nearly a year, the shapely former showgirl's gams had now already carried her through a dozen dance routines up on top of pianos and down banisters that would have taxed a tap-dancer half her age.

At 61, Lucille Ball could pass for a dozen years younger. But only a dozen years.

The outrageous, outsize eyelashes now stick like pine spikes out of a swamp of tucks, puckers and bags etched around her shrewd big baby-blues. Her plastic face is a relief map of over-made-up wrinkles, the big bright red Cupid's-bow mouth lipsticked in a smile outside her own spidery upline.

But you don't survive 22 years on TV in the top ratings, get renewed once again this season when all about Bridgets and Bernies and Dean Martins (1) are falling to the network's chop, practically bear a baby and outlast a broken real-life marriage on the TV tube, take over a foundering corporation and build it into the single most powerful independent TV production house, without it showing in your face.

One look at Lucille Ball's face and you don't doubt it for a minute when Hal, her make-up man for 32 years, says she used to limp on to the Mame set in excruciating pain. Then, the minute the cameras clicked on, burst into a dazzling and seemingly effortless song-and-dance.

Not that the lady would admit it for a minute. "It was excruciating pain," she dismisses the subject airily.

But then these days she's not admitting much. It was a lesson learned the hard way. One recent fateful February day, over perhaps one too many Pouilly-Fuisses on the rocks, she was admitting so much so freely to the New York Times that the story read like a Hedda Hopper monologue.

On Desi Arnaz Sr., the Cuban bongo (2) player-bandleader she met and married out of a chorus line in 1940 and divorced 22 years later after a marriage that was even stormier off -screen than on: "He drank too much and he couldn't stand success."

On Desi Arnaz Jr., their 20-year-old son and his much-publicized romance with actress Patty Duke: "I had my doubts if the baby was Desi's at all. I said to him, "You feel responsible? Boy, you're all of 16 1/2 years old and you want to spend the rest of your life with this neurotic person?'"

On Liza Minnelli, then Desi's current fiancée: "They took her for over a million and a quarter more than her mother's debt. Just for beginners..."

One mention of the story now is enough to send sparks flying. "Why, that man should be..." she sputters over the reporter, "...spanked!"

It's a first burst of spontaneity from a lady who, once burned, is now so careful that she sounds at times as if he's dictating to the Library of Congress.

"I never thought I'd get this far, do so much, have such beautiful children," she says, chain-smoking in her dressing-room, all the wide-eyed telephone lineman's daughter from upstate New York. She knocks on wood.

"All I ever wanted was to get to vaudeville and I never made it."

When she hit New York to take acting classes at 16, the school sent back her mother's money, saying. "No talent." And now, refund in hand, 81-year-old DeeDee Ball, as the whole family calls her, sits in a front-row seat for every “Here's Lucy” show, just as she has done non-stop for the last 22 years.

Still it wasn't till 1951, when the Amazes dreamed up the “I Love Lucy” show, patterned after their own lives, as a way of keeping their marriage together and bandleader Desi home from the road, that success came.

But when it came, it was she who stole the show.

By two years later, 68 per cent of TV viewers in America were tuned in to see her show-by-show birth to Desi Arnaz Jr., whose arrival vied with the U.S. presidential election results for front-page space under the headline, "Lucy's $50 million baby."

Everybody, it seemed, loved Lucy except perhaps Desi Arnaz. Despite her insistence that "the series was happy there was no fighting. It was the greatest time of my life," she admits, "the trouble came much later. Only the last five years were hard."

Which means that the greatest time of her life lasted only a scant six years. When their marriage broke up officially in 1962 (3), friends introduced her to a stand-up comic named Gary Morton, now her producer, vice-president of Lucille Ball Productions, Inc., official show warm-up man and for 11 years now, Mr. Lucille Ball.

As her daughter Lucie, 22, and still a performer on the show, puts it. "She may be the king of stage 12, but at home she's queen Gary's the king!"

She indulges his passion for golf and a garage full of classic cars, but with the warning: "If he ever looks at another woman, I'll kill him."

She says she never makes a business move without him, but when she was left to head up the giant Desilu Corporation after her marriage break-up, it was she who was known as the woman shrewd enough to snap up “Mannix”, “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek” when they were apparently doomed pilots, a comedienne who was not so comical in the executive suite.

But as for her much-vaunted business acumen, she is all denials and femininity.

"Me? No way. Desi did the whole thing. He was a fantastic businessman. I only took it over to build it up and sell it. I mean, there was a certain amount of building up to do."

When she took it over from Arnaz in 1961, Desilu had lost over $600,000. When she sold it seven years later, for $17 million in Gulf and Western stock, making her the conglomerate's largest stockholder and, some say, the wealthiest woman in Hollywood, the company had grossed $30-million and made a profit of ever $800,000.

"But everyone in the know knew I wasn't tough," she says. "No, the men I surrounded myself with were."

Still there a flinty glint behind the false lashes, a shrewd imperious purse to the painted lips, a ring to the wise-cracking whisky voice that's used to being heard. She moves around the Mame soundstage in queenly command, dispensing Norman Vincent Peal-doms, part star, part super-mother.

When it comes time for a scene featuring co-star Bea Arthur, she practically takes over directing from Gene Saks, Miss Arthur's husband. "Now did you tell her what side of the camera to be on?" she asks Saks, who looks like he might explode. "Now honey, toe your mark," she fusses over Bea, who grows quiet, explaining later:

"Lucy's really a dear. But sometimes it can get a little overpowering."

She doesn't talk to people without picking lint off their clothes, and straightening their collars, a habit that comes naturally enough to a woman who has her whole retinue, hairdresser, secretary, make-up man and driver of the last two decades - even her little picket-fenced French-provincial dressing-room trailer, with its false shutters and plastic ivy - picked up and transplanted wherever she strays from Lucy Lane where she presides at Universal Studios, year after year.

With her kids, she was, as daughter Lucie says, "Strict - and you want to believe it. We were the only kids we knew who had to work around the house for whatever money we'd get." Lucie still gets paid only scale for her mother's show.

But Desi Jr. wasn't exactly a natural. "He'd be asleep on the sidelines and I'd be ready to smack him," Lucy says, "When he said he was interested in serious acting, I said, 'Oh, really?' But he got out and worked. He surprised me. He surprised everybody. He even surprised himself."

Still, for all her talk about the joys of getting away to her Colorado ski lodge where she does "the cooking, the washing, the socks, the things I miss - not to mention the leg breaking - there's not much chance that Lucille Ball is going to be sitting the next round out, wallowing in domesticity, In the old rocking chair.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a 1972 sitcom about a mixed marriage between a Jewish man and a Catholic woman. Like Lucy and Desi, stars Meredith Baxter and David Birney were also married in real life. Despite excellent ratings (it was the highest-rated new show of the 1972-73 season) the show was cancelled after only one season. The official reason for its cancellation was that it was scheduled between two mega-hits, “All in the Family” and “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and its ratings weren't strong enough considering its choice position in the line-up.

Also, that same season, the long-running “The Dean Martin Show” (1965-1974) was cancelled. Lucille Ball had made three appearances on the show, and he also appeared on hers.

(2) Conga drums, not bongos. It is slightly dismissive to call Desi Arnaz a bongo player.

(3) The editor makes the error of assuming that Lucy divorced Desi and Married Gary Morton the same year. She divorced Desi in April 1960, and married Gary in November 1961, a year and a half later.

This article was published in the Leisure section of The Vancouver (BC) Sun on June 22, 1973. The article was written by Marci McDonald and illustrated by David Annesley.

#Lucille Ball #Mame #Vancouver Sun #Marci McDonald #David Annesley #Bridget Loves Bernie

3 notes · View notes

dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

Text

The Queens of London Part 3 - My Loneliness is Killing Me

Hello hello hello! Chapter three has arrived, and boy does this one have some developments in it. (I say that like action happens. It doesn’t really). This chapter is mainly exposition and worldbuilding for you all, but there is some good drama throughout and some action in there. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, my dog ate my chromebook.

Writing Masterpost

NOTE: I know historically that Katherine Brandon is Maria de Salinas’s daughter, but for the sake of this story we’re going to pretend that they aren’t related. Otherwise, it would cause a lot of plot holes with Maria’s involvement with the queens that’s just way too hard to work out for how the story is being written.

If anyone wants to send in prompts or requests, my inbox is always open, I love hearing from you all! Here are some prompts and asks if you ever feel like dropping by:

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Random Asks

Trigger Warnings: Vague mentions of sexual abuse

Part 1 | Part 2

The Queens and their ladies sat around the table listening to what Jane and Joan had gathered on Kat. “She was very uncomfortable,” Jane noted.

“Especially when I called her Brandon,” Joan threw in. “This girl’s hiding something, the only problem is we don’t know what.”

Cathy twirled a pen in her fingers. “Well this certainly complicates things.”

“Why don’t we just confront her on it?” Anne asked.

Maggie nodded along with her. “She can’t lie to all of us.”

“No,” Aragon sighed, “that wouldn’t work. She’d get defensive. If nine suspicious women surrounded you and demanded the truth, would you confess?” Anne let her eyes fall as her suggestion was rejected.

“Why are we talking about Kat as if she’s already a criminal?” Anna asked from her chair. She was leaning on the arm and had her leg up at an angle, a stance she put on to suggest that she had little stake in the conversation. Really, the others knew Anna had a big heart and was willing to intervene on behalf of any of them.

“She’s right,” Jane agreed. “I can keep an eye on her, like you all suggested, but other than that, we leave it be. Kat looks properly like a kid, we shouldn’t treat her like a hardened criminal.”

Cathy sat up and reminded the group, “She does supposedly deal with the Black Market, though.”

“Yes, we can’t forget about that,” Maria affirmed.

Rubbing her forehead, Bessie stood up. “I usually just let you do your thing, but this is dragging on. Let me just do a quick synopsis and then we can go home, kay?” When there was no objection from any of the others, Bessie continued, “Okay. Katherine Brandon, well known for her popular record label and dealings with the Black Market, has never been seen in public. Apparently, that’s because she looks like a seventeen year old. Although we don’t officially know her age, something’s clearly wrong with this whole situation. What I believe we’re all thinking right now is that Katherine Brandon is an alias.”

“Exactly,” Joan pointed at Bessie. “She flinches every time we say her name. Normally I would suggest that means she isn’t Katherine Brandon, but there’s no way anyone else could have gotten ahold of that note. Besides, what random person opens an envelope not addressed to them?”

Agreeing with Joan, Bessie finished the basic rundown. “We can’t directly confront her on this suspicion, but we can have Jane keep an eye on her. There will be no stalking,” she said this directly in Anne’s direction. “And things will continue as planned. Sound good?”

There was unanimous agreement among the group as they disbanded the meeting. As everyone got up, Anne pulled Cathy to the side. “Hey, is it just me or is there something familiar about Kat?”

The journalist frowned. “Not that I could tell. Why ask me?”

Anne shrugged and hid an embarrassed face. “You know the most, I figured if anyone would have any idea, it would be you.”

Giving Anne a kind smile, Cathy clicked her pen. “Well I’ll keep an eye out and tell you if I suddenly recognize her.”

“Thanks Cathy.” Those were the last words the queens exchanged before leaving for the night, set to return at the same time tomorrow.

Making it home, Kat immediately went to her old laptop and worked on getting it running. She had the thing from when she still lived with her father, but after being kicked out she was unable to get anything better. When the screen was properly lit, she typed in Jane Seymour Joan and waited for any information to pop up. First off, she got a bunch of photos of Jane at promotional events with Joan at her side. The two of them looked close, maybe even siblings.

There was an article attached to one of the pictures, so Kat clicked on it and started reading. “Joan Meutas is the co-owner of the Seymour fortune with her close friend Jane Seymour. Okay, so not related,” Kat talked to herself as she read. “The two are rarely seen without the other and they deal with Seymour related activities equally. When asked about allowing Joan to control half of her fortune, Jane said ‘Controlling all that money by myself is for too much power. I trust Joan to handle it far better than I could all alone. We work together and that’s what works best for us.’” Kat couldn’t help but feel her respect for this woman grow.

Moving on, Kat did her best to find the other ladies she had never met. She remembered Jane mentioning the names Maria, Bessie, and Maggie, so she started searching. After no results were yielded from Anne Boleyn Maria and Catherine Parr Maria, Kat struck gold with Aragon News Maria. There wasn’t as much personal stuff on her as there was on Joan, but there was quite a bit of work related information. Maria de Salinas is the close friend of CEO Catherine of Aragon and works beside her as the CFO of Aragon News. It is unclear when the two of them met, but when Catherine inherited her business, Maria was immediately appointed the CFO beside her.

The process continued with Bessie and Maggie. Margaret “Maggie” Lee is the main supplier of alcohol to Boleyn owned bars. While she does not own any alcohol companies, Margaret is known for providing some of the best mixes from different suppliers. Boleyn talks about her in many interviews as, “the best of both worlds. She makes a killer cocktail and she’s the best friend I’ve got…”

The article for Bessie was particularly long, so Kat skimmed it. Elizabeth “Bessie” Blount is the spokesperson for Cleves Fashion. She organizes the company’s events and speaks at press conferences in the place of legendary designer, Anna of Cleves. The two have been close friends for years, Elizabeth even collaborating with the designer on some occasions. There was a period of time where Elizabeth left the company to work for Aragon News, but she quickly quit under mysterious circumstances.

As much information as the articles had provided, Kat couldn’t help but have more questions than she started with. There was so much behind these nine incredible women, and she was hiding herself in their group, pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

Katherine Brandon is the owner of Darkrider Records and is known for writing many Number 1 hits in recent years. She appeared out of nowhere, taking the world by storm with her work and collaborations with rising artists. But perhaps the most interesting thing about Brandon is the lack of pictures of her. In fact, there is not a single confirmed photograph of Katherine Brandon, leading to some wild conspiracies surrounding her. Many claim that they’ve dealt with people under the alias Katherine Brandon in the Black Market, garnering Brandon an infamous reputation in the business world. Another one of the most famous conspiracies surrounding Katherine Brandon is that she is not a singular person, but rather a group of influential people pretending to be the figurehead of the company.

That was certainly quite the character Kat would have to play. Her only grace of good luck was the lack of information on Katherine Brandon. “Why am I doing this,” Kat mumbled under her breath.

The answer came clear as day, even though Kat didn’t want to accept it. Accepting her answer would mean continuing this dangerous lie. But her resolve was breaking down quickly, and Kat couldn’t help but think of her reasons. Backing out would mean her life would go back to the way it was. Playing music to passersby and barely making enough money to afford her dingy apartment. She didn’t even have much of an education, something she desperately wanted. These women had offered money in their note, but that wasn’t what really interested Kat. Of all things, it was because Kat was lonely. She had no one and nothing and slowly but surely it was killing her. This was probably her only chance at doing something worthwhile in her life. She could disappear off the map and never matter at all, or she could help take down a murderous, corrupt politician.

When phrasing it like that, Kat knew she never stood a chance of backing out.

Unfortunately, joining a secret plot to overthrow a wealthy politician did not really have any benefits. Waking up at the crack of dawn to get set up on the street was not something Kat particularly liked doing, but it was necessary if she wanted to make enough money from free music. At first she couldn’t make much money, but quickly Kat learned the trick was the length of time she spent playing, not the quality of the music.

Most of the time people dropped money out of pity, not because they enjoyed the music she played. Kat hated living off of pity money, but no one ever wanted to hire her for a job, leaving her with no choice. The day always started out slow with only a few dollars here and there, but business picked up later on in the day. Kat liked to refer to her music as if it was a real job, using terms like business and customers to make herself feel better about the whole situation.

As the pale morning started to fade and the sun began shining through the clouds, Kat huddled in on herself, obsessively checking her watch that was propped against her guitar case. 7:50. Kat anxiously chewed her lip and strummed the guitar, trying to keep her mind fixed on the music. In the next few minutes, Jane would walk by and for once Kat did not want to be noticed.

“Kat? What’re you doing here?” asked a voice, causing the girl to jump in her seat. Dread and nervousness settled in her stomach, but Kat put on her best facade. The minimal information on Katherine Brandon allowed her to build her character as she wished (Kat was glad she had taken those theatre classes when living with her father), so she tried her act on Jane.

Appearing calculated and confident, Kat glanced down at her instrument and then back at Jane. “Oh this?” Kat commented offhandedly, “I play out in public in order to attract anyone interested in music. You’d be surprised how many talents come by and start singing with the music. How do you think I recruit so many new stars to my label?”

Jane hid her surprise at Kat’s sudden change in demeanor well. The girl was acting completely different than the worried teen the night before, which immediately sent up red flags in Jane’s mind. “How long do you stay out here?”

“Eh, only a couple hours in the morning, I usually go to the company to put in some actual work. Can’t be slacking off.”

Taking note of the vagueness in the word “work”, Jane bobbed her head up and down. Kat was acting exactly how the queens had predicted Katherine Brandon would, something that shouldn’t have been strange. But Kat made a lasting first impression, and to have her do an entire 180 in a single night meant something was up. “I can’t stay for long, Kat, but I’ll be seeing you later tonight.”

Returning to her music, Kat gave a small wave, “Yes Jane, I’ll be there.” With that, Jane walked off and Kat sighed heavily, releasing the tension in her body. While her Katherine Brandon character wasn’t perfected, that portrayal was certainly more believable than the nervous girl Kat had been the night before. Being Katherine Brandon was far better than Kat being herself, and if that’s what it took for Kat to take her first steps into this new world, she would take it in a single leap.

The night came again quickly, Kat’s nerves skyrocketing as the first sign of darkness started creeping into the sky. This time, Kat was more prepared, so she pulled out her cleanest pair of pants and the nicest dress shirt she owned, regardless of the warmth. If she was to impress these women, she needed to dress elegantly while also appearing nonchalant.

Arriving at the closed theatre, Kat moved to open the door like the first night. Before she could grab the handle, someone’s hand wrapped around her mouth and another around her waist, wrestling her away from the door and into the alley beside the theatre. Screeching into the hand, Kat started thrashing in panic, pushing at her captor.

The person made a grunting noise and Kat squirmed, but they kept a tight grip on her waist. Suddenly, Kat was thrown back into the memories of hands on her waist, holding her and touching her. A sob came out of Kat’s mouth as she started to shake, only for her assailant to let her go.

“Kat?” came the soft voice of Anne Boleyn. The bar owner had quieted herself so she couldn’t be heard by anyone other than Kat. “I’m sorry, did I scare you too much?”

Spinning around and lifting her head, Kat realized the person who had attacked her was only Anne, her face heating up with shame as she saw how badly she’d spooked Kat. “Why would you do that?” Kat whispered hoarsely, trying to regain her composure.

Putting her hands in her coat pocket, Anne shrugged. “I was trying to test you, see how well you reacted to being attacked.”

“Yeah, well I’ve never been attacked like that before, so clearly I didn’t do well.” Kat sighed and clenched her fists so Anne could not see the trembling. “Just don’t do it again.”

Anne held her hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. You head inside, I’ll be in in a minute.” Kat nodded and moved around Anne and out of the alley. She shot one last glance at Anne before moving inside the theatre to join the other women.

When Anne was sure Kat was gone, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a wallet. Opening it up, Anne began muttering to herself. “Alright Brandon, let’s see what secrets you’re hiding in here.”

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #The Queens of London #part three #i'm not going to tag all the queens #because that's just going to get redundant #yes all the titles are based off of song lyrics #i'm trying to be aesthetic #my inbox is always open #ignore all the historical plot holes #especially with Katherine Brandon and Maria

41 notes · View notes

loverofyaoi22 · 4 years

Text

Erin was terrified as she sat there before three measly, greasy looking hunters. Wing hunters that is. Wing hunters went around capturing any fairy they could get their hands on and ripping their wings out which they would later sell on the black market for loads of money.

It was a painful process that would either kill the fairy or would leave them forever unable to fly. The psychological affects of ripping a fairies wings out were devastating. When a fairy had their wings ripped out, it took away a fairy’s freedom to fly and enjoy the skies. Wings also changed form and shape as they grew which helped with magic development. When wings were ripped out it could lead to server depression, feelings of alienation and a slow descent into madness. Fairies needed to fly. Without it the crave to fly and be free would slowly drive the fairy insane as it took over.

That usually lead to death by suicide sadly or the fairy would slowly shut down as wings helped show emotions. They’d flutter when happy, droop when sad, be displayed when angry or challenging someone, etc. Fairies needed them and Erin had seen too many fairies die at the hands of greedy monsters like these! Erin herself was a fairy but she had hidden her wings from view because of the rumours of wing hunters within the local area.

"What a cute looking fairy, i bet your wings are gorgeous." One of the humans laughed darkly as he used his hand to lift her face up to meet his eyes. Erin glared at him, fear deep within her eyes. “Your wings will be the most gorgeous ones ever sold. Tales of gold and silver with hanging jewels off of the tips unlike normal fairies. The blood said to sparkle as the wings are pulled from the body and they twitch. God, I can’t wait to cut your wings off!” He laughed, eyes holding a psychotic and greedy glint. Such a disgusting human; with such a vice covered soul she was surprised he hadn’t been killed by his greed.

“Go fuck yourself! You won't have my wings." She growled angrily, shuffling about even though she had been bound up by rope, keeping her arms bound to her torso. Her ankles and wrists were bound together by made draining chain and her body was bound by strong rope that rendered her immobile. The guy chuckled and laughed, bringing tears to murky eyes. The guy was around the age of 26 with long greasy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. The man had been spoiled his entire life by rich parents -that was easy to see by the way he acted and dressed - and whenever he didn’t get his way would make sure the person suffered.

What a disgusting human being!

He wore a long sleeved white top with a blue waist coat overtop that had gold chains hanging out the pockets. His black leather pants were clean and were very pristine, showing he took care of them and prided himself with that. A good leader always keeps themself clean and presentable even when doing dirty work. The leather was that of top quality and was not cheap by any means. "Oh but Fairy Queen, your wings are the best out there. That is, unless you want us to rip the wings out of all your people. We’ll tie you up and force you to watch as we cut out the wings of every man, woman and child in your stupid kingdom!” He threatened, pulling her hair causing her to look at him.

Erin had to laugh. This mere human thought he could get past her kingdoms protection barrier?! Fuck no! Not even a boss monster could! Only she could break the barrier! “Hahahaha! Good luck you pathetic human! You can’t even make a scratch on that barrier. You wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near my people!” She snarled. The human man clearly didn’t like this back chat and got in her face.

“Oh really?!” He shouted. “And how would a slut like you know?! Humans are stronger than monsters!” He screamed, face red with anger. “I’m not a full monster!” Erin growled back and spat in his face. He didn’t like that and grabbed his knife from the holster on his belt. He grabbed it and began cutting down her face and eye with the blade. It caused her to scream in pain; crying and shaking.

She just wanted to go home! That’s all she wanted!

Erin's screams and the humans maniacal laughter echoed out into the surrounding foliage making Error stiffen. He could smell blood and fear and hear the sounds of sobs and skin opening. Looks like he had new powerful senses. He looked around wildly, his senses on overdrive.

The person was in pain, whoever it was and they were clearly not alone if the dark laughing indicated anything. His slit eye-lights were looking around and scanning for any indication to show where the screams and laughs were coming from.'its ok, i will find you! I’ll stop your pain! I won’t let you suffer like I did!' He thought in desperation. He didn't want someone to be hurt like him, someone becoming so broken it left them questioning as to why.

Null looked up at his daddy, wondering why he looked so frantic. Another pain filled scream sounded out making him whimper and curl closer to his daddy's chest. His tail curled around his legs as his ears went down. The screams sounded so sad and like his when he begged them to stop, when they hurt him with their needles. "Daddy, please stop those screams. They're hurt! Stop them like you stopped him." Null whimpered out, clutching onto the others ribs.

Error didn't have a chance to put his top on when he jumped into the void from the other multiverse so all he was wearing was his shorts and trainers with his makeshift, blood soaked bandages on his ribs which had stopped bleeding and dusting but he had to be careful as to not reopen his wounds again. "I WiLl nUlL, i WiLl sToP tHeIr sCrEaMs AnD tHe OnE cAuSiNg ThEm." Error promised. Closing his eyes, he decided to use his enhanced sense of smell to find the direction on which the screams came from.

The smell of flowers blended in with the smell of firewood, alcohol, tears and blood?! Shit, this was worse than he thought! ‘North west!’ He thought in shock, eyes snapping open.

The green plants and trees looked all the same to him so he didn't know as to where he was and how far away he was from the nearest town, but the place was beautiful and the perfect temperature. The forest called to him and his senses, making him feel somewhat alive. His nose caught wind of a floral scent with a hint of the sea. It was coming north west from then and the smell of blood clearly indicated the person was hurt.

He narrowed his eyes and growled, showing huge fangs as his lip was brought back in a vicious snarl. It seemed no matter where he went, someone innocent was getting hurt for no reason and it angered him. He didn't want anyone turning out like him, being broken beyond hope, being unable to be put together again.

His bones broke, his soul rejecting itself and ripping itself apart to please someone else who would never be pleased or satisfied. "BoYs hAnG oNtO mE, AlRiGhT?" Error said as he took off running. As he began running, he used all his body weight to give himself a boost which left a huge hole in the dirt.

Null giggled as his daddy ran, his movements jostling him and his brother in his tight grip as he held onto his fathers rib. This the most fun he’d ever had! He didn’t want it to stop! The scents and colours blurred together as they moved, making everything go by quickly.

"Fun, fun!" Null laughed happily, his tail swishing happily. Void giggled too and shrieked with laughter. "Ahwoo~ ahh! Hahaha!" He cooed out. It made no sense at all but he was happy and to Null that's all that mattered. He held his little brother’s tiny hand and smiled. “See? Daddy is very awesome!” voids little giggles were his answer.

Error panted as he ran, wincing as some wounds reopened at his harsh movements and began to bleed again. 'Please hang on just a little longer, I'm on my way!' He thought frantically. He wasn't going to let someone else get hurt if he could prevent it.

Erin hit the deck, her voice raw; face wet and sticky with tears and blood.

Her left eye ached and so did her cheek and eyebrow from the two large gashes cut into her eye and skin. She was glad she had super regenerative abilities as the fairy queen so she could fix her eye but she’d have scars. She ached all over, her muscles burned and the new cuts throbbed as they bled. Her left eye was shut even more tightly as a cut on her hairline bled and blood poured down the left side of her face.

"Fuck you!" She sobbed out, bruises forming on her cheek and staining the pale skin dark purple. She spat out some blood onto the others clothes, making him frown in displeasure. "Bitch." He hissed and used his foot to turn her onto her back and began kicking her stomach. Erin groaned and moaned in pain at every painful blow. More tears fell. All she felt was pain! ‘I don’t want this! I can’t protect myself and it hurts!’ She thought.

Bruises littered her arms and legs as well as bleeding cuts that were filled with the mud from the forests floor. Dirt stained her blue top and brown skirt. Her clothes were torn from the beating and covered in blood. The guys workers laughed as they sat on a rotting log nearby and drunk some whisky from their titanium flasks. Her wings would win them a fortune!

Their black and brown guard dogs sat by with red collars on, gold spikes sticking out as well as collars. They barked angrily, saliva going everywhere. "You get her boss." One laughed. He was a convicted sex offender and domestic abuser. He was a wanted man but with his boss’ help and constant moving around he was never caught.

He wore a black trench coat with silver seams and chains on the pockets with a brown top and grey jeans that were accompanied by scuffed black boots. His brown eyes was hazed by alcohol and his brown hair was swept back. His brother sat beside him, wearing a long sleeved button up t-shirt whose sleeves were pushed up to the elbow and some blue pants with brown shoes. His brother was a wanted man for murder and rape of a young child. He was truly disgusting. Their breaths reeked of alcohol and it made Erin feel sick.

Her body felt overloaded and her thoughts raced as did her soul. ‘Please, someone save me! I don’t want to die! My kingdom will be unprotected and Claudia..my friends...I can’t leave them!’ She thought as kicks kept going and screamed as a rib broke. ‘Claudia, help me! I’m scared!’ She thought with desperation.

The boss -who went by the name Terry- finished kicking her and kicking her onto her right side, making her face away from them. Erin coughed up blood and vomit, whimpering. All she had to do was go to the market to do some shopping, but her basket was lying in the bushes as they were ripped from her hands by the three assholes above her. "Show us your wings Fairy Queen." Terry hissed, smirking.

If he got the Fairy Queen's wings he could make a goddamn fortune selling them on the black market. He would be rich and he would be able to live in a grande Villa in the south of Snowdin. Erin sniffled and used her bound hands that were rubbed raw and bleeding due to the magic draining chains to sit up and glared. "Go to hell. I won’t show you my wings!” She hissed as tears flowed and blood dribbled down swollen and purple cheeks. She would never show a mere human who wanted to steal her wings what he wanted!

Terry grew angry and pulled out the dagger from his back pocket holster again. It was a fine blade of steel around 6 inches long and with a gold handle that was said to have been crafted by a local blacksmith within Snowdin's capital. "I will kill you!" He shouted as he lifted the dagger up

Erin closed her eyes and sobbed silently waiting for the final blow but all she heard was a scream of "what the hell?!"

Confused, she snapped opened her eyes and gasped. A tall glitchy skeleton with midnight bones stood before her in a crouched position, growling. His ears were pulled backwards, his six ombré tails swishing angrily as he guarded her. 'A...kitsune?' She thought in shock. For a second there, she thought she was going to die at the hands of greedy humans but it seemed that a demon fox skeleton had heard her cries for help.

Tears of pain turned into tears of relief. She wasn’t gonna die! She was safe!

Error stood before the tied up girl, fury coursing through his veins. They had tried to kill an innocent person for no reason, after tying her up and beating her to the point her skin was black and blue with multiple cuts. He came across the sight, panting and his bones creaking. Null watched the mean humans cut and kick their captive and he whimpered, burying his face in his fathers chest.

It hurt to watch!

Ir reminded him of the scientists who experimented on him. "Daddy, their mean." He whimpered. Error growled, his lips moving back in a snarl. Putting Null on the floor, he petted the younger kitsune.

"StAy HeRe nO mAtTeR wHaT. LoOk AfTeR VoId fOr mE." His daddy said before rushing off. Null hid within the bush, Void cooing and looking around; touching the leaves and flowers. 'Daddy can do it. If anyone could help her its daddy. Daddy is safe after all.' He thought.

‘You disgusting bastard! People like you should be burning in hell!!’ He thought in absolute fury. His marrow boiled. They hurt a mere child!

When Terry tried to go and stab her, Error kicked the human on his ass, snarling and crouching in a fighting position in front of the girl. The girl was bleeding and bruised to no end. He growled and snapped his head in the direction of the dogs who walked over to protect their masters.

The dogs growled and barked roughly but he roared loudly causing the dogs to whimper and their ears to go down, tails between their legs and lay their heads on their paws.

A sign of submission.

He turned to the human who scrambled back. "What the hell?! A kitsune?! What the fuck, i thought they were endangered!" He said in fear, his face ashen pale and sweating buckets. Kitsunes were rare and were hunted to pretty much extinction by humans for their fur which was not only used for rope making, clothes making and that, it made good medicine too.

His two goons pissed themselves from fear and screamed as thinly slit eye lights turned to them and big fangs snapped at them. "You're on your own!" One brother screamed and ran off into the surrounding foliage, his brother following as well as their dogs following him. They weren’t dying today!

"Hey, don't leave me you cowards!" Terry screamed in fear. This kitsune was angry, the feral eyes and growling as well as body position showing its fury and will to pounce. “You sick bastard!” Error screeched furiously and punched in him. He pinned the fucker down and proceeded to gut the guy with his razor sharp claws.

It was relatively easy as cutting into his abdomen was like a knife through butter. It was soft and fleshy, not a lot of resistance to his claws. As claws cut deeper and deeper past muscles, fat and tissue, blood spilled onto the ground. Terry screamed in agony and blood ran out his mouth making his screams gargled.

“Stop, please stop!! Stop, stop, stop, stop!! I’ll do anything just please stop have mercy!! Please have mercy! I beg of you!” He sobbed out. Error stopped and for a moment they locked eyes with eachother. Erin watched in shock as the Kitsune snickered and laughed with a static filled voice. “You don’t deserve mercy and whilst I’m merciful to people, I am not to you!” He growled and began cutting again. Soon he was at the intestines, ignoring the others screams. He pulled the intestines out and threw them aside staining the floor, plants and his hands with blood.

He continued to cut out and remove organs one by one, showing the organs to Terry before throwing them aside qirhna sick splat. Terry watched in pain and horror at his own organs and screeched as bones were also broken. Error laughed darkly. No he would feel the pain he inflicted on others! Soon screams fell silent and Terry was dead; chest cavity wide open and empty. The other hissed, standing tall and glaring down at him.

How pitiful. In the end he was nothing but a coward.

Error sighed. Humans truly were greedy and horrible; hurting an innocent person for no reason or for money. He would never get humans and their ways of life or thinking. Turning to the girl, he chuckled at her awed and slightly horrified look. Sure he was merciful and didn’t like being beaten or killing innocent people and their homes but people like him? He loved killing them slowly and inhumanely so they could suffer!

He would say the girl was around the age of 16 to 17 with long brown hair tipped blue that cascaded down her shoulders to her hips and blue eyes holding confusion and slight horror.

Dried blood caked her face and bruises littered her skin. Her cheeks were swollen and her left eye was not only badly cut up but swollen shut. From the tears in her clothes, he could see her stomach was a dark purple. The cuts had started to clot and he frowned. "YoU oKaY kId? YoU’Re bAdLy hUrT." He asked her as he bent down and began to cut the rope binding her. He got a good look at her clothes. She wore a button up, pale blue top that's sleeves ended at her elbows and a long brown skirt. The clothes were torn in places and stained with mud as well as blood.

Erin nodded. "I am fine. Thank you so much for saving me." She said with a wince and small smile as the chains came free. She was not telling the full truth. She wanted to cry, to scream and be at home safe but with how she was, she couldn’t be. She needed to heal. She rubbed her wrists and smiled up at the kitsune. She finally took in his appearance.

He was around 6”10 and he was wounded; badly. His skull was covered in tons of cracks and scars that made his skull look fragile and ready to cave in from the slightest touch. His ribs were broken or had healed wrong in many places; some being held together by blood-soaked make shift bandages. His spine was scratched to shit and she was surprised he could walk. She couldn't see his hips or his thighs but she could guess they were also covered in cracks and scars. His legs and feet were also covered in multiple cuts and scars, including his toes.

Wow, and she thought her wounds were bad.

She frowned at how someone could be so hurt and look as if it didn't bother him. She had seen grown men like him scream at broken bones before, so how this monster wasn't screaming in agony was beyond her comprehension.

His eye sockets were red and his left eye light was white whilst the right was yellow with a blue ring and pupil. He had blue lines on his face, showing he had cried so much he had been branded by it. His skull was black as was the palms of his hands but the rest of his bones were red.

The dark red areas signified defied blood or bruising which was so server, he shouldn't be able to move let alone be standing proudly above her. Her heart broke knowing that he had been hurt, abused even, by someone so much he had been branded by his tears of pain and he was no longer bothered by the pain; clearly he had gone though worse times.

His ears were black tipped navy blue and filled with red fur. His tails were the same bar the red. He glitched and had 'ERROR" signs all over her. The skeleton kitsune smiled and sat down cross legged before her. "ThAts GoOd. NuLl, VoId, yOu tWo cAn cOmE oUt nOw." He said, his Deep and glitchy voice startling her a bit but not much.

Null and void came out.

Erin smiled as the tiny kitsunes went over to their father and crawled into his lap. They were both small, one clearly under the age of one and the other just under age 4 and a half. They had white bones and didn't glitch like their father, leading Erin to believe he had adopted the pair. They had white furry ears and tails but the oldest had his tipped blue and the baby tipped pastel orange.

Both wore high end, silk dresses even though they were male, not that she cared. She had a male friend back home whom could pull off dresses perfectly. "You saved her daddy! Daddy good man!” Null squealed happily, Void cooing and clapping his tiny hands. Erin smiled.

"I'm Erin, I'm the fairy Queen." Erin said standing up only to hit the deck again. Everything hurt so bad!

Error helped her up gently. “Kid, you’re very badly wounded you shouldn’t be moving around as it could hurt you even further.” He said with a serious but soft tone. Erin chuckled. “I’m fine sir. As the fairy queen I have certain healing and regenerative abilities.” She watched the others eyes widen slightly at that. "I know I don't look like much but its because of my magic. Its nice to meet you and your kits." Erin said offering a hand.

Error started at her hand but took it and shook it gently. "HeLlo ErIn, I'm ErRoR aNd tHeSe aRe my SoNs NuLl aNd VoId." He said.

Null waved at her, smiling. Erin waved back. "Its my pleasure. Sorry about those assholes -never use those words boys, they're bad- are wing hunters." Erin said as she went over to a nearby bush and decided to pick her basket out from within the leaves. She ignored the organs nearby. It was a simple basket that Erin was glad wasn't damaged.

Error didn't like the sound of that. "Wing hunter, someone who pulls the wings from creatures and sells them for money and profit." He said in disgust. He didn't like them, he had seen them in pervious AU's where the inhabitants had wings such as RebornTale, Angeltale and BirdTale. He loved watching them fly so it angered him when people tried to remove the wings like he was removed from his AU years ago from fate.

"Yeah. They wont do it again thanks to you though." Erin said with a cough of blood as she began to use her magic to heal her wounds. She placed a green glowing hand on the cut on her forehead. It began to knit itself back together until the cut was gone and then did the same to her eye. Once the wind was closed she had two scars and blinked. She could see!

She moved to the bruise, wincing at the pain as it was tender and used it to bring the swelling down and get rid of the internal bleeding. The kicking had torn open and wounded her organs but luckily she could repair them and the ribs that fixed itself with a snap making Error wince.

He knew how that felt.

Once the bruise and swelling had gone down, green flame like magic surrounded her body as she used her healing magic to heal most wounds she had sustained from the beating, especially the one to the stomach which had done the most damage. Pulling her top up, she showed her dark purple stomach. It was badly bruised and super painful. Error winced even more Humans skin wasn't supposed to turn that colour, especially where it housed their vital organs.

"T-That looks painful. Will you be okay kid?" Error asked with concern. Erin nodded as the bruising began to fade as all internal damage was fixed. "Yes i am Error. I am fine." She said with a slight tremble. Everything that happened was starting to take affect.

‘No meltdown, no meltdown, no meltdown!’ She thought. She had autism so things like what just happened could overload her. Error frowned and hugged her which she didn’t expect. Null looked at the glowing flame aura and gasped in awe. "Pretty!" He said making Erin chuckle. "Thank you. It's healing magic." She said letting her top fall.

(I'm no longer doing Error's voice LiKe ThIs.)

“Kid you’re not ok. It’s okay to cry when scared so if you wanna cry, cry.” He said softly and hugged her lightly. She needed it. Erin’s trembles got worse and she began sobbing and hitting her head violently. She didn’t feel safe, she felt exposed and overwhelmed. She hated it! ((Authors note: I have autism as I was diagnosed at age 12. I have violent meltdowns and it isn’t nice at all so I’m going off of my own experiences.))

“Kid no! Don’t hurt yourself.” He said gently holding her hands to stop her from hurting herself. Null hugged her round the waist and Void held her ankle. Poor lady must be scared! ‘Don’t worry! Hugs and kisses makes it all better!’ Null thought kissing her hand and void her leg. Error chuckled. They sure liked making people happy.

Soon the meltdown was over and Erin was exhausted, leaning against Error. “Sorry. I still have so much to do and I just made myself look like an idiot.” She mumbled. Null frowned. “You’re not an idiot ma’am. You’ve been hurt and it’s okay to cry. Daddy saved us from a bad man too. It’s okay to cry.” He said with determination.

Erin chuckled weakly and let his skull. “Such a nice boy. Your daddy taught you well.” She mumbled. Error smiled and decided to change the subject.

"So, you said you were the fairy Queen. I thought fairies were supposed to have wings." Error said in confusion. She had no wings what so ever so how was she the fairy queen? He had seen his fair share of queens before, Toriel was always the queen and was a king ruler but some AU's were the exception. "I am but i can hide my true appearance with magic." Erin said as she finished healing herself and stood up on her own.

She felt weak from the magic use and meltdown but a little bit off food and some sleep would make her feel good a new. She activated her magic again to reveal her wings.

Error watched in awe as a pink aura burst around her form. Her messy hair straightened and became slightly curly at the tips as a forehead crown made of pearls and pink tear drop crystal in the centre formed on her head.

Her clothes changed shape, becoming a light pink, off the shoulders Dress, the skirt becoming slit just below her hips. The front half of the skirt had sewn on dark pink gemstones and blue crystals arranged to make a flower. The gems were also on the back around the sleeves edge that widened near the wrist and at the neck line. She wore a gold corset made of metal that sat above the dress. It looked heavy when in reality, it was charmed to be weightless. It was encrusted with rubies, sapphires and rose quarts.

Erin wore gold ankle cuffs that was also encrusted with gemstones. Her wings opened up, shocking him. They were like three wings in a pair of wings.

The wings had fuchsia outer boarder with blue and gold tips. There was three silver jewels in the centre of the wings and then light pink. She had some blue jewels dangling of the six tips and they sparkled in the sun.

"Now i can see why they call the Fairy Queen." Error said in shock. He had never seen magic so advanced before in someone who wasn't him or Inky so this person was very powerful if they could use their magic to conceal their true appearance and appendages from sight.

He sighed. He could never have a normal friend could he? He looked at her wings and wondered if they were made of living tissue or magic like Skeletons were.

"Its fine, my magic makes it hard for anyone to see my appearance once I conceal it." Erin said, carting her basket. "Error, may I ask, who has hurt you. I can assure you the person who has hurt you will be found and punished, this looks like inhumane torture!" Erin cried out, looking absolutely horrified at his injuries.

"Its a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?" He asked as he stood up; causing his bones to crack and creak from the movement.

Erin shuddered at the sound. It made her anger boil at the fact someone could be so damaged, so broken yet still be in once piece as if it was okay. "I would love to hear it. You can tell it to me as we walk to the market, i am not leaving you without a home after saving my life." She said with determination.

Erins wings began to flutter allowing her to fly right beside him. "Alright. Fate is cruel and has one child who they adore..." And so Error told her off Fate, of Inky, Of how he had been ripped from his AU and forced into a job of destruction, killing people so peoples AU's could grow and how they hated him for a job he had no control over because of an out of control creator.

He watched in shock as Erin again broke down in tears and sobbed at his tail, angrily sobbing about how if she ever met this so called 'creator' she would rip his body into pieces only to put him back together again and let her friends torture him in the most gruesomest way possible until he was begging to death.

Error had never seen someone so angry about his treatment. It happened everyday and he was see to all the fights, the beating, the insults.

She grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes with determination and sincerity. "I swear to you Error, no one will ever hurt you or your Kits again, or i will personally kill them myself." Erin growled out. Erin was furious. How could people be so ungrateful to a demigod?! A demigod who was forced and who was broken in both mind, soul and body?

Error would admit he drowned in fates strings, struggled to keep everyone alive.

He hated the pain, he hated that no one could see the truth and blindly followed the one who would lead to their death but when no one knew the truth he didn't blame them. Sure everything hurt -he screamed, begged, bones breaking and blood pouring whilst his soul broke and was reattached itself- he admitted he learnt thing they didn't know.

He checked her quickly. The last of her family, an autistic child and queen of a huge kingdom. She had many friends and a fiancé. She was powerful with over 1,800 in attack and 1,500 in deference. Her soul trait was SINCERITY so her soul was turquoise. What an Interesting character.

“But I’m used to it. I’m broken and chocking on Fates strings. Fate likes one and I am not that one. There is nothing you can do and even if you could, you have over millions of Sanses to fight.” He said as he followed her.

Erin narrowed her eye that flashed turquoise for a second before returning to blue again "Those so called Judges seem very blind in their judgement if you ask me." Erin said as they walked into Snowdin's Market place. There were shops and stalls for miles; each stall filled with food, clothes, meat, medicine and other things people would be interested in buying.

Clothes were lined on racks, giving colour to all the bleak grey walls. Baskets were surrounded stalls that were set out with things Error had never seen.

Null watched the stalls and looked around at the people who crowded the streets. The sun beamed down from the sunny sky and warmed his bones and fur up.

The chatter and laughter of the crowd made the atmosphere light and fluffy. He didn't notice his daddy's confused face at the beautiful fairy's words but he enjoyed the smell of the cooking meat that permeated from the cooking stalls.

"Daddy, I'm hungry." He pouted as his stomach grumbled, Void even beginning to cry as his little tummy rubbed too. Error frowned and rocked the pair of them, even though he was concerned. They had no money and he couldn't leave his sons to steal anything in such a populated area. It would be a disaster!

Guards would run after them and people would have to move aside and try and catch them and there was NO WAY in hell he’d let them go for his children. They’d have to get through him first! “I’m so so sorry little ones. I do not have the backpack on me so all food is as Toriel. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait till I can find us some shelter and get you some food.” He said with sadly.

Erin frowned as Void cried and Null whimpered In hunger. "May i?" She asked.

Error turned to her apprehensively and frowned. "Only if you explain what you meant earlier." He said. He was confused as to what she meant that their judgement was blind. Erin nodded and took Void from his arms. "Shh, shh, its okay. We'll get you something to eat." She cooed, rocking and nuzzling the small baby kitsune.

Void's cries slowly came to a stop and she smiled; wiping his orange tears away. "There we go, happy baby." She giggled.

Turning to Error, she flew beside him as he walked into the crowd. "I meant that they are blind to their own misdoings. They see their actions as good and only good, not considering their own actions immoral and wrong. They cant see that what they have done had lead to you having great pain and suffering. They are also blind lapdogs I guess you could say. This Dream sounds like a love sick puppy with his tail between his legs.

If they believe one persons words and not bothering to exhaust all options before violence; if they don't see the reasons behind someone's action and someone history, and just go straight ahead into violence, then they are the idiots and the ones who should take a step back and think 'Whoa, hold on a minute, is what this person saying the and do i know what he is telling me is true? What do i know about this person? Do i know their reasons behind their actions, do i know what they've been though?' If not, then they're blind and easily lead." Erin explained, angrily, not caring when Void grabbed her hair and began chewing on it.

Error stared At her and couldn't believe it. He had never thought of it that way. He could see where she was coming from and what she meant.

In ways, the sanses and papyruses were blind to everything, only taking Ink's words and falling upon their own knowledge. They knew nothing about him, about Nightmare's gang or the Chara's. They only knew what Ink told them but never decided to find out their reasoning behind their actions and their history; what they went through.

"I never thought of it that way. Like I said, i could only do so much without Ink having everyone breathing down my neck and beating me to pieces. I could never find time to do anything and when i could find time, I would spend time in the Antivoid watching Undernovela, making puppets and clothes or hanging out with Nightmare's gang and the Chara's." Error said as he looked at the crowd. They watched him in horror, whispering about his wounds and promises of pain to the one who hurt him.

Other bowed as Erin came though as she was the queen. Erin nodded, handing Void back to his father. "Understandable. They will pay for it. Anyway, as you're here you can relax and no longer have to destroy." She said as she began to buy what she needed. She brought bags of vegetables and fruits as well as packaged meat.

Medicine was a must, she brought loads of it and she got things such as bread, butter, potions and baby food for Void. Error was in shock that a tiny basket could hold so much but Erin divulged that there was a spell on it so some of it was teleported to her palace.

Erin explained how she lived in the palace her parents left behind when they died with her friends who he would meet when he went home with her as she wanted him to have an actual home. Error didn't understand why she was determined to help him as he was used to the pain and he would heal overtime after all, once he had been pulled into tiny individual pieces and he just went back together again but she was having none of it. He sighed.

Null smiled as Erin handed him a small basket of freshly baked chocolate cookies.

“Thank you!" He said happily as he took one and bit into it. It was soft and the chocolate melted in his mouth making him moan happily at the taste. She was nice and lot more friendly then the others they had run into. He liked her. "You're welcome Null." Erin said happily and gave Error a bottle of formula to Error.

"Thank you Erin." He said as he put the nipple of the bottle in Voids mouth and the small infant began to suck the formula down like no tomorrow.

Null munched on the cookies as Erin went over to her last stop. Error watched as she approached an elderly man whose long grey hair was pulled back in a bun. He wore a dark blue shirt and grey shorts with black shoes. She said something in a language he didn't understand and he watched as the man pulled a piece of clothing off the rack and gave it to her. Smiling, Erin paid him and turned to him.

"We can go now." She said, going in the opposite way they came in from. Error followed, ignoring the rest of the people. "Also, you need to start eating again." Error looks at her, eye brow raised. "Why?! I have no need for eat, i cant die! I can survive without it." He said. Error would never understand eating. "I know but it will make you sick. Not eating means your kitsune mana reserves will deplete severely and make you very weak and sick." Erin said seriously. "OH."

2 notes · View notes

hoodie-lover · 4 years

Text

My Multiverse part 9

As Error sat on the anti-void floor, unresponsive and limp on his back, Blue was trying to figure a way out of there. Screaming, throwing things, trying his NTT phone, but nothing worked. Despite Error losing all hope, Blue wouldn’t give up. Papy, Alphys, the Queen, Red, everyone was counting on him making it out alive. He and Error were the only ones who knew about Ink, and two was far from every being acceptable.

“Error, you know it would be nice if you could actually help me try to get us out?” Blue asked, scowling at Error. Though his frown softened after a while. Blue laid down next to Error, his face meeting Error’s. “I’ll get us out. You got out, so that means we can get out too.” Blue’s smile was bright and cheerful, radiating warmth.

“We can’t get out. You have to be let out by the voices Blue.” Error explained. Sighing in defeat as he continued to stare, not even turning head to acknowledge his companion.

“What? Well, who lets us out?” Blue asked, turning Error onto his side so they can actually see each other’s faces.

“The voices. And I haven’t heard them, so we’re gonna have to wait. Or Ink’ll let us out, but I doubt that.” Error continued, turning back over onto his back.

“Well, those voices better have a good reason for being silent. Or I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind.” Blue announced, sitting up and shaking his fist at the anti-void’s unseeable sky.

“Don’t be mean to them. They make you hurt, and would you be mean to Ink?” Error asked, looking at Blue with fear in his eyes.

“Well I- Wait! Why would you ask my if I would be mean to Ink?” Blue asked, confused and very worried about Error’s mental well-being.

“They say they’re like Ink, not all, but some say they are.” Error replied and Blue gasped, covering his mouth as his eyelights shrunk.

“H-how are they like Ink?” Blue asked, dreading the answer.

“They make you hurt, somehow. A pain in your soul that makes it hard to move.” Error explained, and Blue nodded his head, he was still sore from Ink’s torture himself.

The two sat in silence for a while, not sure how to continue the conversation after that. But luckily, they had a little conversation starter ready for them.

“We are so sorry we haven’t been able to talk to you guys. Ink’s been busy and we need to keep an eye on him!” A small voice said, it sounded young, very young.

“Shut up! We just need to tell ‘em when we’re letting them out and then we’ll be able to help them stop Ink once and for all.” A deeper voice yelled, more masculine than the first.

“Can we please stop arguing?! The others trusted us three to talk to Error and Blue and we can’t just chit chat! What if we miss something? What of the others start causing trouble? Without US?!” A very feminine voice exasperated and the two others shut right up.

“Umm, hi? Who are you guys?” Blue asked, not sure where they were. Their voices seemed to come from everywhere, but had no clear source.

“We’re the voices! The first creators!” They all said in unison.

“The first creators?” Blue asked.

“We created the AUs, but Ink brought them into the multiverse. And no, your AUs creator isn’t here Blue. And Error’s isn’t either. None of us have actually made AUs, not since Ink began to control and manipulate them.” The younger one said, a melancholy tone in their voice.

“Oh. So why are you here? When are you letting us out? And how many of you are there?” Blue asked, and Error paid no mind to Blue, just waiting.

“To tell you when you’re getting out. In a few days, Blue needs to get a little glitchy first so he can actually have a resistance to Ink’s mind control powers, and there are too many of us to count.” The feminine one said.

“I see.” Blue said, humming as he sat down criss cross applesauce on the ground and thought.

“Why did you torture Error?” Blue asked. A sharpened bone in his hand.

“WE didn’t. We’re some of the better ones, that don’t encourage or idolize Ink’s behavior.” The masculine one spat, clearly offended.

“Some of you, what?” Blue asked, surprised.

“Not all of us are good. Heck, you can’t exactly call us good people and we’re trying to help you and return the multiverse to its natural state. Or as close as it can get.” The feminine one said, though trailing off into a whisper, so Blue didn’t hear the last part.

“Sorry. Anyway, thanks for the information. Let us know if anything comes up. You can leave now.” Blue said as he looked around with an irritated glare in his eye.

“Fine. We’ll go, and we’ll let you out as soon as we can, if we aren’t stopped by any evil voices.” The younger one said as the anti-void got deathly quiet.

“You did good Blue. Normally I’d be tortured for that attitude.” Error said, giving his first smile since Ink had left.

“Well thank you Error.” Blue said as he laid on his back, before promptly getting up and launching his attacks and a random point.

“If we’re going to be stuck here for a few days, we might as well practice so we’re in tip top shape when we have to fight Ink and anyone...else...he brings along.” Blue said, a chipper voice soon fading as a realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“I’m going to have to fight my friends...Ink’s going to make us fight. What if I have to kill them?! What will I do?!” Blue cried as he sank to his knees on the floor, sobbing.

Error was silent, he had no idea, and frankly, as long as they were stuck here, they had no real reason to exist. Time moves differently, so he had no idea how long the other’s would have to wait for them. And though Error showed no emotion, he was scared, really scared.

There, they sat, there they cried, there they stared into nothing. It was only until Blue began to gasp and struggle to breathe that Error got up. He ran to Blue’s side to help him, he knew what was happening. Blue was becoming a glitch. Error remembered when he began to cough and wheeze, it was hell. Error was helping Blue with breathing exercises the gang had taught him and helped him sleep when he was breathing properly once again. It was imperative Blue slept as much as possible, he’d need energy for what was coming next.

Error laid Blue on the fluffiest rug and watched him vigilantly. When Blue woke up, he would probably begin the next stage, the actual glitching. Error knew it was painful and it was hard to focus, like everything was happening at once and nothing was happening at all.

He knew it was time when Blue began to stir, shifting and groaning, clearly uncomfortable. With a scream Blue sat up and began to shake, gripping his clothes and making small tears. It was hard to look at, but Blue needed supervision. Though moved quicker than with Error’s glitching, so things might be different. And maybe not a good different

After a while of just rocking back and forth, Blue’s eyes snapped open. There were 1s and 0s flying over his eye lights, in an array of patterns. This was also the time when Blue’s body began to react it the glitching, erratic movements and jerking around, and parts of his body becoming static. It looked painful, and Error knew it was.

When Blue began to mumble, Error was sitting next to him, holding his hand. Error remembered craving physical contact when he began to mumble, and he knew Blue was wanting it too. Error also guessed it’ll help him stay grounded in reality, as he knew that Blue was probably blind at the time. Another side effect of glitching.

There they sat, waiting for Blue to stop glitching and relax. When Blue began to cry, he hugged Error, clutching him like a lifeline. To which Error thought, that right now, he must feel like. Sometimes Blue would string together bits of sentences, other times he would just blurt out words, but most of the time he just mumbled nonsense.

When the voices returned, Blue leaned into Error, cowering in fear. Error wrapped an arm around Blue, despite his reservations to touching people he didn’t know or trust, Blue’s glitchy body felt good and relaxing to touch. And Blue seemed to share the same testimate about Error, as the glitching slowed to a stop soon after. A sigh of immense calm and trust, the voices had told him long ago.

“We’re going to let you out!” The young one said, and Error silently screamed with joy.

“What?” Blue asked looking around, his eyes still glitching with 1s and 0s, he was still blind.

“As soon as Blue can see again, you are going to instantly teleport to the hideout. No matter what situation your in.” The feminine one clarified and Blue sighed in relief and disappointment.

“At least...I’ll see...be able...defend...myself.” Blue said, his voice echoing, as if multiple Blue’s were talking at once.

It was only then Error decided to ask an important question. “Can I take your gloves off?”

“Yes...” Blue said and Error slowly slipped them off. His suspicions were correct.

Blue’s hand was black, the color faded away as it reached up to his elbow. Error sighed and slipped the glove back on, before checking the other hand. And they were the same, both turning black, like his own bones.

“Is...ok?” Blue asked, getting nervous.

“Yes. It’s fine. I just wanted to check to see if your bones were getting darker like mine.” Error explained, smiling.

“Oh. Are...they?” Blue asked, running his hands against each other.

“A little bit. You’ll see when we get to the hideout.” Error told Blue, and the little skeleton finally drifted to sleep.

“What do you have to say?” Error demanded of the voices, scowling and growing.

“Ink will be here tomorrow. We can warn you when he’s about to come, but if Blue doesn’t regain his eyesight by then, well, I’d rather not think about it.” The masculine one finally pipped up.

“Alright. Thanks.” Error said, stroking Blue’s skull, making Blue relax with every touch.

With that the voices were gone. And Error dozed off to sleep as well, Blue in his arms.

Characters belong to their respective owners

First

#undertale #fanfic #error sans #underswap sans #my multiverse

2 notes · View notes

blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Last Chapter - 21)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: THE LAST CHAPTER. I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE. i feel like before i start my thank yous i could give you some weird trivia on the story. i wrote the entire outline for the fic at a weekend shift at work, where i always have free time. i had some smaller ideas - them meeting at a bar and not seeing again, the whole kensingon-taxi-class thing from the beginning - but there was a sudden burst of inspiration and in like twenty minutes the outline was done, and very little has changed, i mostly just added some more details. also, i imagine the reader as alicia silverstone in the 90s?? idk. i just do. also, the reader thing with new york comes from the fact that i lived there for a while and i miss it so much, so thats why theres so much detail about places and stuff - its my form of revisiting my favourite spots there. also, will (REMEMBER WHEN) was written with sebastian stan in mind, and liv tyler (in her lord of the rings days) was poppy. i did too much research for this fic on queen history, and everytime i had to change something (especially in the first act) so the dates made more sense, it KILLED ME.

anyway, now the thank yous: SHIT THIS FIC IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER ON MY LIFE. its my first time writing such a long story without abandoning it, and my first time writing fiction in english, so i learned so much!! i was doing some research the other day, and the great gatsby is like 47k words long, and the first harry potter is around 70k words long - bed of roses is around 60k words long. this is crazy.

it's also my first story to get this many readers interacting with me, and i'm so grateful for you all!! i thought about thanking you all by name, but i dont want anyone to feel left out so i just want every and each one of you reading these words to know: if you read my story, thank you. thank you for giving me your time of the day, thank you for connecting with what i wrote, thank you for telling me in any way possible that you've enjoyed it. thank you. a writer must write, but theres not a lot of joy in talking to an empty room. you filled my small room with warmth and love and there's not enough words to express my gratitude for you all. thank you.

about my writing: i plan on FINALLY DOING THE MANY REQUESTS I HAVE IGNORED OVER THIS FINAL ACT OF BED OF ROSES - requests are still open, too! i'm also outlining a smaller roger x reader fic where she's one of the videographers on the news of the world documentary, so keep an eye out for that! i'm gonna open a permanent taglist for the requests (and eventual new fic), so if you want to be added, hit me up in the ask box/comments/inbox!

anyway i'll finally wrap up this chapter's note cause you have the final chapter to read. enjoy my loves

Words: nearly 4k

Warnings: none??? part of their dialogue is inspired by some of my favourite movies and books like her and the wife and almost famous and before sunrise and the fault in our stars and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and maybe more I DONT KNOW ITS BEEN AN EMOTIONAL RIDE OK I CANT EVEN REMEMBER WHERE DID I PULL THIS FROM EXACTLY. some errors too cause i didnt revise it completely my bad im crying ok

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 21

Roger lit a cigarette in the train cabin, and tried to open the top window, the one you can usually pull open.

"Rog, it's not gonna open, you know", you told him as you watched him fiddling with the glass.

"I guess you're right. Hope you won't be bothered by the smoke", he said, taking a puff.

"I won't if you share it with me", you answered, and with a half smile on his lips, Roger lifted the cigarette to your lips, and you breathed in the smoke while looking at him through your lashes.

"Don't look at me like that. Especially if the cigarette smoke is going to leave the cabin sultry and hot", he told you, and you laughed.

"Yeah, and we won't do anything about it", you said, trying to make yourself more comfortable in your seat.

"And why is that?", he asked, batting his lashes innocently at you, you you lightly elbowed his ribs.

"We need to do something else, something we've been ignoring the whole trip", you said, and he raised his brow. "We need to talk about us", you told him, and he breathed out, smoke coming out of his nose.

"I guess you're right again", he said, then slid a bit down on his seat.

You didn't think much about talking about your future with Roger while in Paris, so now has to be the time, on a train that will take you to London and to a whole month of Roger being away, promoting News Of The World.

While in Paris, you never talked to Roger about the future, and talks of the past where subtle - you talked about how you felt with the development Doctor Who took over the years, but didn't think much about the fact that you were separate during years of the show.

You enjoyed the city, but most of all, you enjoyed each other's presence, not only going to museums, churches and castles around you, following them up with fancy dinners and walks along the Seine, but you also spent time inside the room, in your pajamas, ordering take out from restaurants you found on the phone book, having a hard time trying to speak french as Roger tickled the sole of your feet and kept trying to distract you.

You would always remember the peace you felt as you ate cheap chinese food on Roger's shirt on the balcony at night, the Eiffel Tower shining over your meal and Roger's electric blue eyes as he hummed early David Bowie's songs under his breath, or how at home you felt sitting on the couch, Roger on the floor with his head on your lap, his soft strands on your fingers as you tried to braid them while watching re-runs of I Dream of Jenie, Roger focused, trying to understand the french dubbing until he noticed what you were doing.

"Babe, are you trying to braid my hair? Think I'd look better if I'd look more girly?", he said, moving his head back so he can look at you.

"Yeah. Always thought so, but I'll have to keep imagining, since your hair is too short to braid", you pouted, and he laughed.

"Don't you like my new hair, then?", he asked, pouting back, and you moved your head to his level so you could press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love it, Rog. Especially cause since it's shorter, it looks even messier after I pull it", you said, and he smirked. "My favourite look of yours is when you're all dishevelled after sex", you winked, teasing him.

"That's my favourite, too", he said, turning completely around and pulling you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

But now, while in the smoke filled train cabin, you needed to make a few things clear.

"I've been avoiding this for a reason", he said, looking out the window, and you raised your brow, waiting for him to explain. "I have this weird, innate fear of you telling me it's all good but you don't want to see me again, or something", he said, and you gave him a half smile.

"I don't want to do this, Rog. And I won't do it", you told him, and he sighed in relief.

"Even though loving you is a bit complicated, I'll admit. Especially if you're me", you shrugged, and he turned to you, confused.

"Let me explain. I loved your idea for a bed of roses, a few days ago, cause it can exemplify our relationship so well. The roses feel so good against the skin, the smell is so intoxicating, it looks so beautiful - maybe too beautiful, ethereal, even. But then there's always a few thorns here and there, and they hurt so much when they lodge themselves on my skin, but I'm so intoxicated by the whole experience that I don't mind - I convince myself that it's nothing, and even that it's already part of me already, cause the thorns fit so perfectly on me, on my little stabs made by myself, by my own insecurities", you say, and he stares at you.

"What I'm trying to say is that every minute that I'm with you always distract me from the issues that come with being with you - the fact that there's a few expectations that come with being your serious girlfriend, be them always travelling with you while we're young, or eventually staying home once we have kids, knowing that you'll eventually cheat on me with a younger version of myself, while I'm too tired of taking care of the babies to even think about my sexual needs", you said, and you watched him frown.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this-", he started saying, but you cut him off.

"Let me finish, I promise it will get better", you said, fixing your posture as you start again. "But the thing is, I love you. I always have, ever since I started talking to you, you always trying to outflirt me, always seeing me as your equal. You desire me, but you also listen and see me as another human being, you never back down or ignore me if I challenge one of your beliefs, and you never treat me as a trophy-wife-to-be", you say, and you can feel your eyes fill with tears, but you're smiling. That's what you always loved about Roger. He smiled back at you.

"And because I love you, I don't want to deny myself the pleasure of being with you. I'd rather be in a bed of roses than in an empty bed - or worse, a blank bed, someone being there just so it's less cold at night. I want to be with you, Rog", you say, and he pulls you in for a hug, and you hold him back for a few moments before pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"But also because I love you and I want to be with you, Rog, I don't want us to try to fit into this type of relationship I just mentioned. I don't want you to make me the other woman, either, when you eventually find someone so you can settle down, if it's not me" you said, rubbing your nose. "I guess I want to settle down with you, eventually, as we planned before, but this whole thing - living together and cheating if we're away for too long - it kills me, and I think it kills you, too. I respect you too much to want to cheat on you again, cause if I ever do and you never find out, I'll lose respect for you, and the same thing will happen if you cheat on me and I don't find out. And these are ugly truths, but this isn't our first time together; we know each other, we need to think about this", you told him, and he nodded.

"And I need to make it clear that I'll never be a simple rockstar housewife - I'll never be able to quit my job and look out for the kids while you travel the world and I make them lunch. I'll never be able to sit down on a dinner table on some award show with you and when someone asks me what I'll do, I'll smile as I say I'm a king-maker. I'm not", you said, firmly.

"And I'll never be satisfied with dumb spa and shopping trips as you do the actual work when we travel. If I have to live this life, I'll resent you, and I don't want that. I like being domestic with you, but this type of forced domesticity will poison us again - we're both too wild, too career-focused, for this. We've always been similar", you said, and he gave you a smile as you sighed. "I guess that's all I have to say", you shrugged, and he laughed. "Not much, right?", he said, running his fingers on his hair, pulling the strands back.

"Guess it's my turn now", he said, and you nodded, encouraging him. "When I saw you again, at the pub, there was so much that I wanted to say. I mostly wanted to apologize - it got lost as I got infatuated with you again, and tried to get you in bed - you know, usual stuff", he winked, and you laughed.

"But yeah, I kept looking at you while you updated me on your life, your skin glooming under the stars and the moonlight, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. Cause no matter what - even if you had decided on never seeing me again after all this - I'll always love you, because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am", he said, moving strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me, always. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, however this" he said, pointing his finger to the two of us "works out, in whatever form it might take", he said, sighing "I'll always send you love. Before being anything else to me - and I hope to God you're always something more - you'll always be my friend, to the end", he told you, and the tears were already streaming down your cheeks. His cheeks soon mirrored yours.

"And now, after you so eloquently told me all your fears about our future, I need you to know something else, too", he said, as you wiped the tears under your eyes. "I always loved you for being the way you are. You always challenge me, you always make me work harder, try harder, to be better. And it's not even something you force me to do; I just follow your lead. The way you look was what first got into me, I won't lie, but the way you are is what made me stay. It's what will always make me stay", he said, a genuine smile on his lips. He made you feel warm, like the sun.

"You're the smartest person I know, you're funny, you enjoy sex, you're unapologetic, you're proud of who you are, even proud of your insecurities. And you have such a huge importance in my life: you made me who I am. Whatever way you want to make us work, I trust you. I just want to be with you, in whatever form it takes", he said, smiling, and then getting up and opening his bag.

"I forgot to give you something", he said, pulling a string out of the front pocket. You recognized the red glimmer. It was the heart necklace. "It's still yours to keep. Even though it's not in its original glory, it will always be yours. The necklace and my heart", he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Always so cheesy, Taylor", you said, joking as you moved your hair to the side so he could put the necklace on.

"You always loved it", he winked, and you laughed. "I do", you said, smiling.

"So, what does it all mean? Where are we?", you asked, and he shrugged. "Wherever you want us to be. I just hope that you keep me around", he told you sincerely.

"I will. So, we're not going back to our old ways, right? We're not back at sharing a flat and stuff", you said, and he nodded. "Sure".

"And you're going to spend a month away, all around the world. I don't want you to feel pressured not to cheat", you said, and he nodded again.

"Yeah, and you're back in London, starting a new job. I don't want you to be worried, too", he said.

"So, maybe no exclusivity, this time? At least not now. This is still debatable, in the future", you said, and he agreed.

"Makes sense. But I'll have a hard time desiring anyone but you", Roger said in a low voice, and you laughed to break any mood that might have settled. You needed to get things clear before making out in the train cabin.

"Me too, Rog. But I don't want to create any expectations of loyalty because we know each other too well, and I don't want a stupid fight to break this thing we're building together", you said.

"It's a good idea. So, no titles, too? I can't call you my girlfriend?", he said, and you laughed.

"You can, if you want to", you told him, and he pulled you closer to him.

"Good, cause I want to call you that on the News of the World launch party, that I'm hoping you'll go as my date", he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head, breathing in your fruity smell.

"Of course I'll go. I need to see the boys again", you told him, and he laughed.

"So you're not going for me, then?", he pouted, and you laughed again.

"No, I'm just going so I can meet Deacy's kid", you told him, and it was his turn to laugh.

Once you got to London, Roger offered to go to the airport alone - he had to get on his flight, and he was late. He knew you had to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, but you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

He looked relieved when you got on a cab with him to Heathrow.

"Big day tomorrow, huh", he said, rubbing your arm.

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm finally going to work at the British Museum. It's so surreal, it feels like a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life", you said, looking out at the window, the early sunday morning reminding you of fresh starts - you were in the middle of one.

"Well, it's your life, and it's your job, cause you deserve it, babe. I never met someone who worked so hard to get where they want", Roger said, smiling, proud.

"I did. You and the boys", you said, and he huffed. "Guess you're right. Me and that pack of idiots, we turned out okay", he joked.

Once you got to the airport, you followed him to his gate.

You were feeling nervous - you had him for a week, and now it's time to say goodbye again.

You're both aware that the rest of the band is already waiting impatiently in the jet, but you can't help it - you hug him, dropping your luggage on the floor, and he does the same, the hug soon turning into a kiss as you rub your hands on each other's body, as if you're trying to remember how every inch of the other feels like, as if you're both about to disappear.

But the airport worker clears her throat, and you break the kiss, looking at each other longingly.

"Don't say goodbye", you beg Roger, putting your hand on his lips as he opens his mouth.

"See you soon", he says between your fingers. You smile at him, grateful he found a way with words so you're not repeating the same old goodbyes.

"See you soon, Roger", you say, hugging him again for a few seconds, just trying to capture every detail - his smell, the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours.

And once he has to go into the jet, you go to the glass wall, and you can swear you see some familiar faces from the windows of the jet.

But before you can focus, soon Roger's well known face takes over the window you're watching, and he puts a hand on the glass.

You can't help but think about the last time you did that with him, him being on your place as you were inside the plane, moving to another country, your heart weighing down on you, filled with doubts.

But now your heart warmed you up, filled with joy and love, and you could feel Roger's crystal heart on top of your chest. He was right. There would be always a piece of him on you, too.

Epilogue: News of the World Launch Party

"Y/N! You're back!" Brian's voice welcomed you to the ballroom.

You squeezed Roger's hand - it was the first time you saw the band in years, and you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it.

"Darling, you're really back! We thought Roger was getting high too often and hallucinated a week in Paris with you. But I guess you did come back to him", Freddie said, hugging you by the side as he held a glass of champagne on his other hand.

"I'm back with him only so I can see you all again, of course", you said, winking at Roger as he pretended to be offended.

But then you heard Deacy and Veronica scream your name in unison, and you turned to see them.

"So you're really back!!" Deacy said, but your eyes were on the baby boy on his lap.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.", you said, trying to get his attention. Roger looked at you, adoringly, as you moved your eyes to Veronica.

"Ronnie!! You're so big!" you said, trying to hug her through her belly. "It's coming out in a few months! It's a boy, Michael. Someone our young Rob can play with", she said, and Roger frowned.

"I could swear it was a girl", he said, and John smiled. "Maybe next time", he said.

"Hey, Bob. Do you want to play with me? C'mon", you said, and he motioned to go to your arms. You picked him up as he started playing with your hair.

"You'd be a good mom, Y/N", Veronica said, and you got tense. "God, Ronnie, don't even joke about this", you said, and Roger chuckled. "It's a sensitive topic at the moment", he explained.

"The moment will take quite some time, you know", you told him, the youngest Deacon pulling your earring before playing with the crystal heart on your neck.

You talked to the boys and Veronica for a while, updating each other, but no one brought up how you and Roger got back together. It just felt natural - no need to question.

You stayed with Roger for the whole night - behind the cameras as he did press, by his side during dinner - where he was back at his old ways, teasing you lightly with his hand under the table. You felt good in his arms, getting back into his life.

He was interested in getting back into your life, too. He came back to London last night, and went straight to dinner with you. You were trying different food, and now was time to try Indian food.

As he ate his Chicken Tikka Masala, dipping the naan in the sauce, you invited him for a party your bosses would be throwing next month to celebrate a new exhibit.

He gave you a bright smile. "I'd love to be your date, my love", he said.

And after the Deacons went home - Robert was asleep on his father's lap - the party got louder, the dance floor more full. You could swear you saw an angular face that could only belong to Bowie pick someone to dance - was this Princess Leia? - but before you could process the whole situation, Roger pulled you to dance.

"Thought you didn't dance, Mr Taylor", you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tried to slow dance to All The Young Dudes, by Mott The Hoople.

"I don't dance very well, indeed. But it's just an excuse to be so close to you in public, and God, I'm dying to call you Ms Taylor", he said, and you chuckled.

"Take it slower, Rog", you told him, and he leaned in to rest his head on the curve of your neck. "And why do you want to be close to me in public? Is it still one of your weird fetishes?", you joked, and you felt him laugh against your skin.

"No, it's just that you've been killing me with this dress of yours, and you've been killing a lot of the guys here, too. Could swear I saw Bowie checking you out", he told you, and you gasped.

"Taylor, don't even joke about this. I'd have a heart attack", you said, and he laughed. "You'd leave me here for Bowie, is that it?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Of course not. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he might acknowledge my existence", you said, and it was his turn to laugh. "The only eyes I really like to feel on me when I look away are yours, Rog", you said, and he gave you a quick kiss.

"Okay, had enough of trying to dance. Let's get some fresh air", he told you, and you followed him to the balcony.

As the cold, fresh air brushed against your exposed skin, you heard the first notes to Tiny Dancer, by Elton John. You walked to the balcony, leaning in and taking in the view of London at night.

Roger soon took you into his arms, hugging you from behind, and you felt safe, his body heart making you warm in the cold evening as he jokingly whispered "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" into your ear, and you scoffed. "Slower, Taylor", you told him, and he laughed.

"However you want it, babe", he said, now paying attention to the view, focusing on the feeling on you in his arms again. Finally.

But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

"I could die right now, Y/N. I'm just... happy. I've never felt this type of happiness before. I'm just exactly where I want to be", Roger said in his husky voice, and you nodded lightly in agreement.

Because in Roger's arms, you feel home. You feel what you hoped to feel for years - what got you to move to London in the first place. You feel like you belong.

---

1988 Special

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

149 notes · View notes

cruelbutnevercrass · 6 years

Text

Running, her mind was constantly running these days. Everything in her life was mangled, loud, disjointed, and worse still she was quickly losing control. Her sanity was fractured, mind torn by grief, and infected by the anger of another more powerful influence. Dawn’s pale-yellow light filtered in through her open curtains, causing her drooping eyes to wince. He would be in any moment to check that she was up and ready for the day ahead, a constant flaming reminder of her sins.

As always, he greeted her with a sharp smile, blundering guise on hold when it was just the two of them. “You’ve two appointments this morning, Madam, one for a young girl sick from the workhouse, and the other is a woman who wishes to kill her child,” he murmured flippantly.

Angelina looked up from her morning tea, eyes cold at Grell’s crass description. She hated when he tried to rile her up so early in the morning. “I shall, of course, try to dissuade her from this course, Grell. Was there anything else.”

He fairly pouted, dropping all pretense to sit beside her. With a gloved hand he reached out, stroking Angelina’s chopped bob. “No need to be so cold, dearest. We both know she deserves a visit from Jack~”

Her hands curled into fists beside her, body tense. “Is it not worth more if the child can be saved?”

With a scowl he stood, nearly upturning the tray sitting on Angelina’s lap. “Don’t go soft on me now, dearest! Our work is not yet complete. Where’s that fire, Madam Red, that spark of passion?” He huffed, hip cocked to the side as he regarded his mistress. “I must attend to my own duties today, but I shall be back tonight. I hope this episode of misanthropy has cleared by then and you’re ready to begin anew.”

Without so much as a by-your-leave Grell Sutcliff had disappeared. Angelina suspected that was what made the redhead so terrifying, the seemingly godlike abilities he possessed and flaunted at will. Things were not done by halves with the Reaper, everything was a spectacle, and in the beginning Angelina had been caught up in his beauty, his grace and majesty. However, now it seemed monstrous. He claimed they were partners, a perfect pair destined to live forever for their great work. The women they butchered deserved it, after all, for throwing away so callously that which Angelina and Grell could not possess. They had the moral high ground, he argued, and everyone was terrified to step out of line lest Jack strike them down. Almost nothing provided relief for such turmoil, the anger and hatred she felt against the world, against God himself for all she had suffered, and the pain she inflicted upon those women, the madness Grell was spreading through her. But how does one tell a deity they wish to cease contact. That they want to try to pick up the shattered pieces of their life and move on? Surely it was a delicate matter, and one, she knew, that would anger Grell.

Perhaps tonight she would broach the subject.

…Then again, he seemed to see her as nothing more than a plaything. His contempt for human life didn’t stop at his partner. There were many times he had reminded her of her fragile nature, her inherent weaknesses, despite his proclamations of devotion and ‘love’ She was fearful of what the Reaper would do should she prove uncooperative. With a sigh she stood and dressed herself for the day; an arduous task since Grell had run off in a snit. When Angelina was ready she walked to work for a trying day. The patient Grell mentioned could not be convinced to keep their child despite Angelina’s offering to help. She performed the surgery, heart aching throughout the procedure. Perhaps Grell was right, these women were good for nothing…But then, what did that make her? Trudging home after work she was not surprised to see Grell lounging on the divan, swirling a glass of her expensive cognac.

“Have you come to your senses, darling?” he purred, sharp smile glinting in the firelight.

“Oh yes, my queen, I’ve learnt the error of my ways, and I feel my contrition terribly, sincerely, and down to the bone.”

His glowing eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone, Madam.”

She looked down, black lashes brushing her pale cheek. “Grell, I don’t wish to do this anymore.”

The glass and cognac went crashing into the fire, causing it to roar briefly as if as angry as Grell was in this moment. “Come again?” he asked, eerily calm.

“I believe you heard me, Grell.”

With a snarl he stalked toward her, heels clicking sharply against the wood floor. With monstrous speed he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her close. “I don’t think you understand, Madam. When I deigned to help you seek justice for those innocent souls, to avenge your anger against them, I thought you understood that you would be seeing this to its end.” There was none of the lilt or put on femininity in his tone now. It was a low, dangerous growl that made Angelina’s blood freeze.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, and said to the red death, “Let me go; we’re through.”

His eyes widened for just a moment, glassy and full of rage, before his expression shifted so dramatically Angelina thought his skin might crack. “Darling, come now, there’s no reason to be so contrary. I know this is difficult for you; as a mortal you still have a misplaced sense of pity.” With a tug he pulled her into his arms, delicate white fingers playing with her hair. “B-u-t together we can make it all right. Come out with me, let’s paint the town red~”

With a whimper she melted into his arms, unable to escape him. “I want all this to end, I’m so tired.”

“I know, I know,” he cooed, shushing her gently. “But trust me, my love, life is so much better when lived to the fullest. Be bold and take back what should have been yours, what you lost so unjustly.”

“Will you help me, Grell?” she breathed against his lapel, fingers clutching the fabric as if it could save her from drowning.

A smirk flittered over Grell’s lips, and he replied with a soft, “As you wish, Madam,” before they disappeared.

Blood.

There was always so much blood. Sticky. The metallic scent clinging to one’s nose. She thought as a surgeon she would be used to it. But nothing prepared one for the stench of a corpse strewn about the room. Angelina had done her work quickly, hoping to prevent Grell’s more vulgar play. It did not stop him from tearing her apart until he called Angelina to his side to retrieve his prize.

“Go on, my love, take it. They don’t deserve to have such a gift, you know it.”

The blade glinted against the light, sharp and ready. Angelina hesitated for but a moment before she sliced into their victim.

Angelina’s mind settled for a small space of time when the organ was finally excised. Everything was quiet. Grell stared at her with pride and devotion, and for a fleeting, glimmering moment, she felt happiness again. Then she looked down, reality crashing between her ears like a drum at the sight of their victim. Grief, helplessness, the contempt she had for herself pounding in her head in a mantra from Hell. Touching her shoulder gently Grell took them home.

She collapsed against him as they touched down, trembling arms snaking around his shoulders. He released a simpering coo from between his bloodstained lips and held her close. “My darling Madam, stay with me a little longer…” She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, mind spinning fifty thoughts too many. “There’s my good girl. Let’s get you to bed.” Stripping her of her soiled clothes he lifted her into his arms to carry his trembling murderess up the small platform and into her bed. Depositing a soft kiss to her forehead he turned to leave.

“No,” she gasped, vicelike grip upon his thin wrist.

He turned with a Cheshire grin, sharp and cold, loosening his tie. “As you wish.”

Their lovemaking was frenzied, filled with as much madness as the back alleys of White Chapel. Ruby hands stroked and polluted soft white skin, pulling gasps and moans from the divine and noble alike. Grell gripped her hips, leaving fingertip-shaped bruises along the jut of the bone. “You belong to me, mon petit…”

She realised with horrible clarity that this was the truth; he would never let her go. Her body, her life, her very soul would always belong to him. Fear coiled around her heart, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. She clung to him with a cry as pain and pleasure pooled in her belly, and with a final thrust they released together in a white-hot climax.

Breathing heavily she stood from the bed as he sat up, confused. “Where are you going, pet?”

She shook her head frantically, needing to escape. Stumbling, she ambled toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut to fall against the heavy wood once safe inside.

Bemused, Grell rose from the bed, the red sheet wrapped delicately around him as if Botticelli would paint the red death god any moment. He approached the door and knocked softly, “I did not think myself too terrible, Madam. Though truth be told you’re not my type…”

Angelina wrapped her arms around herself as she rocked back and forth, eyes staring forward, unseeing. Grell continued to knock, the sound too loud; why was everything too loud?

“Darling, let’s not fight, whatever you’re feeling we can discuss,” came the simpering, lilt through the door. “Angelina open the door, please. I will not ask again.”

With a cry she opened the shears and dug them into her wrist, eyes raised away from the red immediately bubbling up from the blade. Quiet…quiet…quiet…quiet! She pulled the shears down the length of her forearm tearing into herself the peace she could not find elsewhere. Everything was growing colder, Grell sounded farther and farther away; with a soft whimper she fell to the side.

“Madam…Angelina!” The pounding of his fist against the door mirrored the sound of her heart in her ears as blood pooled around her small frame. Her world darkened and with a soft breath she finally smiled as she shut her eyes.

“Fuck it,” he breathed, breaking the door down, pushing Angelina’s body further into the small bathroom. When his phosphorescent eyes gazed down upon his scarlet mistress he froze. “You fool,” he breathed, dropping to his knees beside her, staining his hands anew with her blood. With little effort he pulled her into his lap, holding her close. “I asked you to stay a little longer, idiot girl…Why couldn’t you see this through?” Small wisps of slate-blue record curled from her wrists, playing small scenes for Grell to see. With a sharp growl he clamped his hand upon her wrist, hoping to staunch the flow of Records.

He felt small pin pricks as the weak Records attempted to penetrate his skin and he chuckled humourlessly. “Trying to influence my heart even in death? Even Ophelia was not so cruel…”

Distracted as he was he did not notice one William T. Spears porting into the small space, looming over the too red scene, nose crinkling in distaste. “Dispatch officer Grell Sutcliff I’ve come to retrieve you,” he murmured coldly, gazing down at him as if he were the lowest being on Earth.

Shaking, he looked up at William, grin widening manically. “Perfect, just perfect. It would be you, wouldn’t it, darling? …You can’t have her…I won’t allow it.”

William sneered, disgusted with Sutcliff's behaviour. “You are in enough trouble, do not make it harder on yourself.”

Grell fought the immeasurable urge to take his mistress and flee, despite the records leaking from her body and playing around them in a cheap staccato Vaudeville show. “Will…please, I’ve never asked you for anything, but…don’t, don’t do this,” he gestured at himself then at William, “to her.”

Williams expression did not change, glasses glinting in the low light of the bathroom. “We will discuss this later,” he replied, readying his Scythe. Without warning or another word he struck, Scythe penetrating her chest; Grell did not move from beneath the mortal even as their crimes played for William’s judgement. The redhead glared up at William, as if blaming him for the outcome of their madness.

Unfazed and unamused William judged her Record accordingly and stamped the file. There were many things he might comment for the record, but they would have to wait until he got Sutcliff back to the Realm. He stepped forward, pulling one murderer from the other as Grell, defeated, put up little fight.

“You’re so cruel, darling,” he murmured dejectedly. He couldn’t say goodbye, couldn’t take a memento of her passing. She was just gone. He stood before his boss, glaring defiantly at him; William regarded him coolly, ignoring the roiling emotions within the depths of the redhead’s gaze. He always knew the other man to be mad, but for the first time in a century he saw the melancholy beneath the angry churning within his manic heart. The desire to be accepted, wanted…even loved. Had the mortal provided these, even in their shared lunacy? Is that why he clung to her even in death? The man who culled all from the highest aristocracy to the lowest personage without batting an eye, prideful of his impartial Reaper’s judgement. How had this unremarkable mortal woman swayed him away from their laws and regulations? It was unacceptable, and William would make sure he was punished for his transgression.

He grabbed Grell by the lapel of his coal black coat and hauled him close, weary he would flee. “We are Reapers, Sutcliff. We follow orders from On High; we do not get to deviate from this path we have chosen, we don’t ask questions, we don’t make errors.” With these cryptic words imparted he returned to the Reaper Realm with the deviant and a new soul for perdition. It would seem this would be a long night of overtime for one William T. Spears.

#madam red #grell sutcliff #angelina dalles #fanfiction #black butler

12 notes · View notes

princess-of-the-corner · 6 years

Text

Okay, I know we all have various problems with several Disney Movies. None are big enough for me to ‘hate’ a movie, but I just kinda want to rant on possible scenes to make things a little better.

Some are my own complaints, others are common complaints from the masses. And some of these suggestions are more than scene, but something that would derail the movie.

Also, to mention, while I’m pointing out and fixing flaws, this is more me having fun with some stuff. So it’s not all complaining.

I think I’ll go in order, and also focus mostly on the Princess movies since those problems are discussed a lot so let’s start at the beginning:

Snow White - Many people complain about Snow White trusting strangers too much and taking the apple. But I think that they should put a little more emphasis on why she trusts the old woman. I already had an interpretation of why, and this works off it.

Have the local forest creatures that she talks to say not to trust the old woman offering apples, she smells weird. Snow White then scolds them for judging others by smell, and assures them it’s fine. After all, if her evil stepmother knew where she was, she’d probably show up and upright stab her or something. Why would she send an old woman with apples?(Where were you on that one Grimhilde? This is what you get for being all Extra™ and going for Magic Transformation and ‘poisoned’ apples that don’t even kill her, just put her to sleep until ‘True Love’s Kiss’. Seriously, if you want to be ‘fairest in the land’, putting the prettier girl in a coma ain’t the best way to get rid of the competition. )

Cinderella - First off, changes that don’t derail the original plot:

1.) I will always insist her name is Ella due to most other Cinderella stories having it as her real name, while ‘Cinderella’ is a cruel nickname her stepmother gave her. It gives an extra level of showing off the abuse. I want it not only mentioned in the film, but I want it right at the end when the Prince comes to take her away. The Stepmother is still scolding her for escaping, trying to convince the Prince that he deserves better than the servant girl, all while still using the name.

The Prince notices the way she flinches at the name, and ignores the stepmother to ask her directly ‘What is your name?’(They hadn’t given names before because, well, he’s the Prince so she should’ve known his, and she believed that the few hours they spent together would stay as a memory and they’d never meet again, so she never gave hers,). She turns to him and says with more confidence than she probably feels “Ella. My name is Ella.”. And when he says it, tests how the name rolls of his tongue, she melts, because it’s been years since anyone has called her by her name.

2.) Secondly, if you want my opinion on the changes to make her a stronger character in the remake, let me refer you to the Nostalgia Critic’s “Old Vs. New” for my opinion there.

3.) As for other changes, I would give her more time with the Prince. At least, more time that we actually see.

In the original Disney movie, their interaction is in a song montage. But we do see that the two meet, dance, and spend the rest of the time until Midnight talking and taking a walk through the palace gardens, but we don’t hear their conversation, just the love song.

Side note: Ella doesn’t even know he’s the Prince when she falls in love with him. Seriously, watch it again, when the clock strikes Midnight and the Magic begins to run out, she begins making excuses for why she has to leave so quickly. One excuse she gives is ‘I haven’t met the Prince yet!’. This confuses the Prince, but I think it makes him love her more. Because she thought he was just some random guy and yet spent all of her time with him instead of trying to find the Prince.

But yeah, I would like to see more than their implied bonding. Give a full scene of them walking and talking and.... okay, it’s not the best example, but go watch Frozen’s “Love is an Open Door” sequence where Hans and Anna are running around, talking, and having fun. Give me that, but with Ella and her Princ.

4.) Also give the Prince a name. I’m partial to Freyr myself, but according to the Wiki the names listed are Henry(or Henri, as that info came from the French Blu-ray release), Alto, or Otto. But Disney’s never given a real answEven most of the Merchandising just calls him “Prince Charming”. Hell, are we just supposed to believe that it’s like the guy from Shrek 2 where his name actually is ‘Charming’ and he happens to be Prince of the land? If so, that’s one of the dumbest, ‘I want to slap your parents for that’ names I’ve seen in fictional characters. (Some MLP characters still win. I think Filthy Rich is runner up to his wife, Spoiled Milk.)

5.) Another thing is to give the step-sisters more character. This is mostly because of the sequels they made, and how it really got me to love Anastasia, but I think you could do similar stuff with Drizella. After all, Lady Tremaine is not really nice to any of them in the movie, though her abuse of her own daughters is far different than the abuse she puts Ella through. I’d say maybe do something like the fic Cinderella:Redo, where they help Ella under their mother’s nose. But at the very least, I would like to show off more of the fact that Lady Tremaine abuses them too, and that they only join in abusing Ella because they were trained to think that it was okay, and are afraid of what their mother would do if they didn’t. Perhaps when Ella begins to leave with the Prince, they gain the courage to apologize to her for the part they played in making her life miserable, maybe even deciding to collect their things and move out of their mother’s home, even if they don’t quite have a proper place to go planned out. (Ella might be kind enough like she is in the sequel movies and helps them, letting them come with her to the castle until they can make it on their own).

As for a change I’d like that would derail the original plot

When the Faerie Godmother shows up, instead of giving just giving her a few hours of a Magic dress, she takes Ella to the Fae Realm. You could even have it round its way back to the Ball and Shoe plot. The Faerie Prince(or Princess?) is going holding a masquerade to find a wife or Magic Soulmate since they’re Fae and can have something like that. Ella goes just to have fun and dance, since she didn’t get to go to the last ball she was ‘invited’ to. She meets someone, talks and dances with them, and begins to fall in love, and then the person reveals that they’re the Prince(Princess?), and have found their Soulmate. But because Ella is scared that the Prince(Princesss?) just chose her, the human who came from nothing and was a servant most of her life, to be their Soulmate/future wife, she runs off and accidentally leaves the shoe(Or possibly, scared as she is, leaves the shoe on purpose because she did love them, and it’s the only thing she can leave for them to remember her by).

The Fae Royals go on the shoe quest, testing it out on everyone in the Realm. However, the reason the shoe doesn’t work for anyone isn’t ‘magic’ or just the size only fits her perfectly. It’s because when the Godmother made them, she was clever and put metal decorations on the shoes. Since metal burns Faeries(well, there’s debate on which metals and how much it hurts, but I’m generalizing), Ella is the only girl who can wear the shoes without pain.

Sleeping Beauty -

Let’s start with the ‘derail the plot’ ones first this time:

1.) The changes from Maleficent. I like the idea of her having an actual vendetta against Aurora’s father, and a very rub-salt-in-the-wound reason for making the cure to the Curse be ‘True Love’s Kiss’. And I especially love the whole thing where she watches Aurora as she grows up, like a ‘Fairy Godmother’, and comes to truly care for the girl. She loves her the point where she realizes the error of her ways and tries to revoke her Curse, and when she can’t do it she tries all she can to find the guy to give her ‘True Love’s Kiss’. And of course, I love the fact that it was her ‘I’m sorry I failed you’ forehead kiss that counts as ‘True Love’s Kiss’ and breaks the spell.

2.) Another version I would like is a full on Faerie War. Like, I can’t find the Tumblr post that pointed it out, but a lot of the original movie had to do with Fae Politics, oddly enough.

I think it’s less ‘good Faeries vs evil Faeries’ and more differences between groups(even though the four are the only ones we see, both are representatives of their ‘group’). The ‘good’ Faeries are the ones who go out of their way to help and interact with Humans(though can be mischievous and even cruel), while the ‘Evil’ ones stay more in the realm of Magic. They’ll deal with Humans in two instances: 1.) if they find one they like and 2.)in a matter of respect. Neither is really good nor evil, but I’ll refer to them as such because not only is it simpler, but because the Humans here see things more ‘black and white’ so to them it is ‘good and evil’.

In the movie, the King and Queen invite the ‘Good’ Faeries to celebrate Aurora’s birth, but purposely leave out the ‘evil’ Maleficent. However, in doing this, they have officially sided with the ‘good’ faeries and offended Maleficent(because ‘evil’ or not, she is a being who deserves respect and should be invited). She gives them a chance, showing up anyway and asking if it had been an oversight, or perhaps her invitation got lost in the mail. But they officially offend her and she curses the baby in response.

Now, while this to the Fae this is just retaliation for disrespect, Aurora’s Father declares war against the ‘evil’ Faeries for what Maleficent did. Since the ‘invite the ‘good’ Faeries and offend the ‘evil’ one’ bit means that he has aligned his kingdom with the ‘good’ Faeries, they are part of the war as well.

In this, I think I’d have the war wage on while the ‘good’ Faeries try to protect Aurora, but we get some of the stuff from Maleficent’s movie, where she shows up and influences the girl’s life, and both influence makes her a bit more Fae.

By the end, Aurora is no longer Human, but not quite Faerie. And as she was influenced by both sides, she is not a neutral player but part of each side. With that, she is able to see past ‘good’ and ‘evil’, and calms the war. Not sure how the Curse plays in, but it’ll get there. Or maybe she figures out a way to break the curse herself.

3.) Remember all that stuff I said about Fae Politics last time? Let’s have the version where Aurora’s parents did invite Maleficent out of respect. The Faeries would’ve been trying to one-up one another with their Gifts. Do you have any idea what Magical gifts they’d give Aurora just to show off?

As for things that don’t change the plot:

There’s only one scene I want to add. Well, more a montage of scenes. But I want to make the ‘Once Upon A Dream’ bit literal.

Aurora and Phillip are not just an arranged marriage, they’re some kind of Magically Connected Soulmates and that’s why the marriage is arranged when they’re born(not to mention that joining the kingdoms is a good idea that they might’ve been pushed toward anyway.). Of course, they don’t get to meet because Aurora is cursed by Maleficent and the Faeries take her to the woods and raise her as Briar Rose.

As the two grow up, they begin having these strange dreams. Dreams of someone else, who is just as intrigued by these dreams. They start out vague at first, impressions of feelings, blurry figures. Aurora sees someone tall and strong, Philip catches a glimpse of golden hair. As time goes on, the dreams become clearer.

Things are still a little blurry, they can’t make out one another’s faces, but they can talk, they can touch one another within this space. They spend countless nights creating songs and dances shared only with one another. And even though their faces and features are still a bit fuzzy, they can recognize the gleam in each others’ eyes when they smile and laugh. Every morning they hold one another close as they know the dream is beginning to end, as they know they’re waking up. Every morning they wake up heartbroken, having fallen in love with a person that they believe is only a reoccurring dream.

And then, one day, Phillip is out riding in the forest and he hears a voice that pulls him in. Wandering closer, thinking it impossible, he finds a girl, far too familiar, singing and dancing with the animals that stole his cloak and boots.

She’s familiar enough, but that’s not what makes his breath hitch. The song is one he knows as well as his own heart, and the dance one he could do in his sleep, one he has done in his sleep.

So he steps into place, dancing his own part, singing the lines with her. He didn’t mean to scare her, but he couldn’t help but fall into place. And at first, she’s scared, because the man from her dreams couldn’t be real, he has to be a stranger. But he just smiles and reminds her, they’ve met ‘once upon a dream’, and as he sings lines that only she should know, she realizes how real this is, how real he is. They’re both real, and have finally found each other.

The plot continues from there, pretty much the same as before. But it adds so much more to the romance.

The Little Mermaid - Not sure how to put this. But basically, put more emphasis on Ariel’s love for Humans in general. I mean, it’s already there and people kind of ignore it. She already wanted to go to the Human world and learn about it, but not only meeting/saving Eric, but her father’s rage at her interest and the destruction of her secret grotto is the tipping point that leads her to making the deal with Ursula.

Maybe have her be more of a self-taught anthropologist. Cut out the bird that has no idea how Humans work, have her just studying the items herself and guessing what their uses are for. Maybe she still gets some things wrong(like the fork being for hair), but she’s trying to figure out what all these items are and how Humans and their culture work.

And have it continue a bit more when she gets to the Human world. Sure, she focusing on flirting with Eric because of Ursula’s spell needing ‘True Love’s Kiss’, but have her stop and be fascinated by Human objects or what they’re doing. In my mind I can already write a scene where Eric is watching Ariel dismantle a clock, and he just falls in love with the delighted fascination she has every time she figures out how a part works.

Beauty and the Beast - Have the Enchantress be the villain. Like, okay, you can keep Gaston as a side antagonist because he and his song are fun, but that fucking Enchantress!

Like, Imagine you’re a 10 year old Prince. You open the door to an old woman who says ‘hey, so, can I just waltz into your house full of treasures and also a very young and vulnerable political leader to spend the night? I’ll give you this pretty flower as payment?”. Hell no. As much as I want to help the old lady in the storm, I’m closing the door on her ass too.

So not only did this Enchantress set up this bullshit test, but decided that in looking after his own well being, he was obviously a ‘just being a total douche’. So she decides to punish not only this 10 year old kid by turning him into a monstrous Chimera, but also the entire castle full of servants, who had jack shit to do with this exchange, are turned into various inanimate objects!

What a total bitch.

Anyway, have the Belle fall in love with the Beast ‘reverse the curse’ at the beginning of the climax instead of Gaston going full evil villain(Still give us the song though). Then the ex-Beast explains the curse to Belle when she’s like ‘what the fuck why’d you all turn into people?”.

Being clever, Belle puts all of the pieces together(like the Prince being fucking 10). She makes her way back to her little town, stomps over to Gaston and is like “Hey, I’ve never loved you, and even if I were marrying for social status, my new fiance is a Prince who outranks you, but you’re the best hunter I know. Think you can help me find an Enchantress? Because I have some ass to kick!”

The Lion King - Honestly? Include the stuff from the Broadway version where Scar is going fucking nuts. Have him go full-on insane from seeing Mufasa’s ghost haunting him(Or him hallucinating Mufasa’s ghost. Who knows if it’s real or not). Maybe include the full ‘Madness of King Scar’ scene because even though it’s disturbing as FUCK it’s a good villain moment to have him creeping on Nala(”My... how you’ve grown...” Ugh. Talk about lines that make you shudder.)

Maybe go more into Simba’s guilt over thinking he caused his father’s death, but also let him talk about it! When Nala asks why he’s pulling away, let him tell her that it’s his fault! Let him finally break down, and then have her be the one to convince him to come back home anyway because everyone would understand, and you need to move forward to help, face it instead of hiding away and pretending nothing exists.

She sneaks him into wherever the other lionesses are(and Simba gets a reunion with his mom). He tells them what he believes to be the truth, and they’re all upset but can see the toll guilt has taken on him and they know that it was an accident. So they decide to follow him anyway and pull a full uprising against Scar.

We still get Scar revealing that he killed Mufasa, but we also get a bit about how it only halved Simba’s guilt because even if he didn’t start the domino effect that killed Mufasa, he was still a part of it.

Pocahontas - Don’t. Just.... don’t. Don’t make it ‘based on true events’(based on my ass). Don’t make it seem like ‘and then the natives and the white men lived in peace’. I get that y’all were trying to make a movie about how ‘all races can get along’ but this is not the way to do it. Do it in, like, something more realistic. Or don’t do it at all, just have characters of various races and interracial couples without addressing it as a big thing.

That said, ignoring those problems it’s still a good movie. Maybe it could’ve worked if you didn’t make it with a set of races? Though even fictional races would have certain implications and.....you know what? Just make Romeo and Juliet. That’s pretty much what this movie was. It’s Romeo and Juliet, except after Romeo kills Tybalt, the Capulets capture and plan to kill him before they and the Montegues go to literal war, and Juliet stops them by talking some goddamn sense into these idiots. Just add in the song numbers and animal sidekicks.

Hercules - While I love this movie, for the love of god, or gods in this case, do better with Greek Mythology. There were references to actual myths and stories, but they were warped and shoved in and I just, ugh. It’s still a fun movie, but a lot less enjoyable once you learn more Greek Myths.

Also, STOP MAKING HADES THE VILLAIN. Even fucking Percy Jackson only used Hades as a fakeout villain! And it was only the first book! The rest of the time he was only as much of a dick as the rest of the gods! Seriously though, leave Hades alone and stop shoving your Christianity view of the afterlife onto him and making him Satan. He just rules the place, he’s not evil! He’s the fucker who names his giant, three-headed, guard dog ‘Spot’ and fell in love with a beautiful Goddess of Springtime(Side question: was she just, like, Goddess of Flowers or something before the whole pomegranate thing crated changing seasons?)! Let him just stay home while he and his wife take turns playing fetch with Cerberus!

Mulan - Make it gay. Okay, I could say that for all of these, but fucking- just- we all joke about how Shang was falling for ‘Ping’ before he knew that ‘Ping’ was Mulan, but how about we actually get it? Like, Shang falls for ‘Ping’, has the Bisexual Existential Crisis, and then pursues the romance on the down low. Also, have him still be Bi even after we get the reveal that ‘Ping’ is Mulan. Like, yeah, ‘he’ was ‘she’ all along, but Shang was Bi the whole time and falling for ‘Ping’ was just the slap-in-the-face realization he needed.

Okay, other more story-related suggestions.

First, have Mulan be less of a fuck-up in the beginning. Like, yeah, there’s kind of the thing of ‘bringing Honor to the Family in a way that isn’t “being the perfect bride”’ plot. But I feel like it’s a better message if Mulan had the option.

Like, while she’s not that interested into going to the Matchmaker and all, she is good at it. She’s good at being ‘girly’, and would make the perfect Bride/Wife/Mother that she’s expected to be. But maybe she’s on her way to the Matchmaker when horses ride into town and announce that one man from each family is being summoned to war. The Matchmaker visits are canceled, and everyone in town goes home to have a quiet goodbye dinner for the sons, husbands, brothers, and fathers that are being sent to war.

Now we have the rest of the movie go as originally, all the way up until the scene where they reveal to everyone that ‘Ping’ was a woman disguised as a man.

It starts to go the same, with the friends she made trying to protect her and Shang feeling conflicted because his duty should be to kill her or throw her out, but it’s ‘Ping’. Okay, her name is Mulan, but it’s still ‘Ping’. And as he’s debating, Mulan shouts that she only did it to save her aging father from dying in battle, and he makes up his mind.

He orders everyone to keep this secret. Some protest(especially that adviser guy), but he’s just like ‘no. This might be a woman, but she’s still the one who kicked ass and saved our lives.” So they all stick with her and bring her with them to see the Emperor.

The rest of the movie goes similar. The Huns survived and kidnap the Emperor, and Mulan convinces them to crossdress(Or just get in a dress, in her case) to sneak into the palace. She defeats the Big Bad in a firey explosion, etcetera. She can’t get back into ‘guy clothes’ before the Emperor congratulates her, and even if she could the adviser guy outs her for what she did, but the Emperor does the same as in the original with the whole “Hey, you saved my life. I don’t give a fuck what gender you are.”

The Emperor’s New Groove - I don’t fucking care about anything else, just give me Kingdom of the Sun! For those who don’t know, Kingdom of the Sun was one of the other Disney Movies that were in development, and is basically the Emperor’s New Groove’s first draft.

The plot of that had kind of a ‘Prince and the Pauper’ thing going on where the Emperor finds a peasant who looks like him, and has them trade places so he can fuck off and have fun. Yzma is an evil witch who learns about the switch and uses it to her advantage. She wants to summon a evil God of Death/Darkness to destroy the fucking Sun so that she could have Eternal Youth. It got cut for various reasons and a lot of what they had was reworked into this movie.

And honestly? I just want the original Yzma. As fun as the one we have is, the one from Kingdom of the Sun is so much more interesting, and you could’ve still had the rest of the movie we all like, even Yzma’s humor too, just give her those original motivations as a villain! Fucking- just listen to Yzma’s villain song! Yeah, Kingdom of the Sun made it far enough along that they had Eartha Kitt singing the villain song! Tell me you don’t want this version of the movie!

Tangled - There’s a bit too much focus on the side characters. Like, the best parts of the movie are pretty much everything after they get to the castle town. Have more of the quiet adventure, you know? More of the two of them interacting and less of the horse and the chameleon and the bar full of criminals.

Also... Okay, the only reason I want to keep the whole ‘Magic Flower gives her hair(and tears) glowy healing power’ thing is for the end of the movie. But in terms of why Gothel kidnapped her.... probably my second favorite reason? I think my favorite Gothel Backstory is from the Barbie version where she’s the psychotic ex girlfriend who kidnaps your child because ‘she should be mine anyway!’ and maybe that just set the bar too high.

Frozen - First off, I still love this movie.

That said, cut out the characters that are only in existence to be marketable (Olaf. He did jack shit). Give a little more and a little less to the Trolls. Like, take out their song and replace it with a little more on what all they can do.

I think Hans needs the most work, but not in the way you’d think. Make it clearer what kind of situation he’s in. Like, one of Anna’s scrapped songs is called ‘more than just the spare’, where it’s made clear that she’s only there and only taught how to rule because they need a ‘spare’ in case something happens to Elsa. She’s only kid #2, Hans is #13.

How do you think he feels? His only chance of being anything, of ruling any kingdom like a Prince should, is marrying a Princess and taking her kingdom. Emphasize that this is why he’s rushing into marrying Anna. But also, change the fact that it’s villainous.

When Anna comes to him desperate for ‘True Love’s Kiss’, instead of the full heel turn, have him confess everything. Confess that he’s not her ‘True Love’, because he doesn’t love her. Again, not in a villainious way, but more of a sad breakdown through realizing how much this will hurt her and that there’s no way out that won’t hurt her.

So he tells her of the family that sees him as nothing. He’s not even the ‘spare’, he’s #13. He has brothers who spent two years going out of their way to pretend he didn’t exist. That’s not ‘brotherly teasing’, that’s some level of abuse. And I doubt it stopped there.

Marrying a Princess or Queen of another land was his only option to be worth anything. And yes, he admits that it would be better if he seduced Elsa and married her, he even admits that the thought crossed his mind to marry Anna and fake an accident for Elsa. But he would never bring himself to do the second part.

Marrying Anna though, he had thought that was still a way out. He could marry her, move into her Kingdom and never have to deal with his family again. And while he isn’t in love with her, perhaps over time he could grow to love her like that.

Except Elsa forbid it, and told Anna that if she wants to marry Hans, they have to leave. He didn’t want to go back home, and even if he was forced to, he wouldn’t bring Anna into that situation.

And through all of this, since Elsa and Anna’s fight at the Coronation Ball, he’s been trying to figure out what to do. But now she’s here hoping he’s her ‘True Love’, and he’s breaking her heart.

All he can do is offer to take her to where Elsa is. He still had to imprison Elsa, because she’s a danger to the kingdom, but he helps Anna make her way down there because either she help Elsa control herself, or this would let her give a proper goodbye, since there’s no ‘True Love’s Kiss’ to save her.

The Act of True Love that isn’t a romantic kiss could be a number of things here. It could be Anna’s act of sticking by her sister, despite all that’s happened(Storge, Family Love). It could be Elsa finally giving in and letting herself feel, because keeping everything locked inside hurt her , and her sister, in so many ways(Philautia, Self Love). Even Hans confession and deciding to care for the girls and help them because it’s the right thing to do, even if all he can do is tell the truth they deserve(Agape, Selfless Love).

Okay, I’ve run out of Disney Films I either have strong ideas for, or have seen. So let’s end this.

#Rant Tag

10 notes · View notes

benbarnesescape · 7 years

Text

A Letter to My Love

Requests: Hi dear! I finally remembered what i wanted the Caspian Imagine to be about hahaha Could you do one where caspian wife is giving birth to their first son and he's waiting outside the bedroom where she's giving birth and he keeps thinking everything they have been through? Maybe how they met, how was their courtship, wedding, the coronation of his wife, all that stuff and finally how he reacts when he finally hears his son cries and enters the room and meet his wife and son hahahhah I know its quite specific but I love the way you write and how well you describe everything

A/N: OMG this took me forever @ladyblablabla but I literally rewrote three times before I decided this was the sweetest way to capture what you envisioned. I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it and that it was worthy of the wait. I literally listened to Lovesong by Adele probably thirty times writing it because i think it's a song that captures the way Caspian would love his wife. Enjoy!!!

Warnings: None

Permanent Tag List: @la-fille-en-aiguilles, @starless-skyox @livelearnandtravel

My love,

You always ask me how I fell in love with you. What was it that pulled me into the enigma that is you. I must tell you, my dear, that it was your smile. It was bright as you walked along the courtyard that young spring day, laughing along with your ladies in waiting, your hair pulled back in coils and curls, falling along your back.

It was your smile that had captured my attention.

I loved the way you smiled at everyone, didn’t matter who they were, as you talked among court leaders about ways to expand the lands of Narnia. It was they way you smiled at me, your eyes barely flicking and taking me in, before walking past me as though I was no one. You did this for weeks and I wondered what I could do to have your eyes fall on me longer, your eyes tugged into that perfect smile.

I knew from the start that I wanted to look at that smile forever.

So I spent endless days plotting with everyone I knew at court on ways I could get your attention. Reepicheep spent hours giving me silly sonnets to sing to you, but unlike him I hadn't the gift of song ( I know, my darling, that you would disagree).

I spoke to Dr. Cornelius about the problem and he had told me simply to be myself. You and him were good friends, I was later to discover, and he knew that you had found me as charming as I you. Yet, at the moment, I couldn’t bear do that.

I was a king who had no idea how to rule a kingdom. What if you saw that, the way I believed my advisors had, and laughed at me. What if you took my ramblings of my love for stars as that of man who needed to keep his head out of the skies and more in reality? What if you found me lofty?

That my love, was what kept me from you. Pure insecurity and fear.

Yet it was you at the end, as it always is, who approached me. I was training in the courtyard with my men and little did I know that you had been watching me train on bow and arrow. An area that was not unfamiliar to me but also not my strength. Not like swordplay was. It was you that had picked up the cache of arrows behind me, aiming at the target with ease and hitting it. It was you that smiled at me when I turned in disbelief, the bow still placed against your flushed lips, a proud smile on your face.

That smile that always made my heart skip a beat.

You that walked toward me, instructing me that I pulled too much to the left when I aimed and that you would be more than happy to show me how to correct the error. We practiced until twilight, until my hands were blistered and you offered me a spot at your father's table for dinner, where we chatted for hours, our laughter filling the large space.

Later, my most trusted man Lord Drinian, had teased me about how smitten I was with you. How large my smile was when your hand caressed against mine, or the way my skin flushed when your breath tickled my ear as you whispered funny jokes to me. He meant to tell me out of shame but I knew, I knew from the start, that I had to make you mine.

That I loved you and I belonged to you.

From that night, I made a point to have you know of my intentions. I sent flowers to your chambers, spent endless hours showing you my library and the many gifts Narnia's had bestowed on me on my travels. Went on long horseback rides with you in the forest where we joked and chased each other like school children. You never let slip your feelings of me until a cool fall evening, where we snuck out with each other to watch a star shower. You had told me that your favorite constellation was that of Scorpio and his story of Orion. How you would also plead to Aslan to form a constellation just for me if someone took it upon themselves to kill me. How you worried every time I left the castle to travel on the Dawn Voyager, worried that someone would steal me away from you.

You looked at me with tears in your eyes and I couldn’t think my heart could fill with as much love as it did in that moment.

I remember that we kissed for the first time, my chapped lips pressed against your feathery ones as my hands gripped your face, wanting to memorize the way you tasted. You always taste sweet, my darling, like the first taste of strawberries in the summer.

You always asked me what had passed after that, when I made my love for you known to your father. I never spoke of it, nor did he, because we didn’t want you to….distance yourself from him. But now that he is gone from this world I find that I must share it with you.

I never can keep my secrets from you. I hated to keep this one.

He didn’t want you to marry a king. While he respected me, was loyal to me, would fight for me, he didn’t want me to marry you, his daughter. Didn’t want you to get trapped in court life. Didn’t want you serving a man who could only serve his country. Didn’t believe that I was capable to do both. He found me naive and young and restless and he thought you deserved someone older, wise and calm.

It was why he had you taken from the castle for months, leaving us only to the device of pen and paper to communicate our love. It wasn’t until he saw that my absence in your life was breaking your spirit. How your smile no longer lived on that angelic face.

So he relented.

That, my love, is how special you are.

I remember our wedding day. I remember watching you walk down the long aisle, that smile on your face, your eyes looking into mine. It didn't matter that my groomsmen teased me months later at my tears, that I was a softie. You were beautiful and they knew it.

I remember the way your hands felt against mine, small and shaky as your father gave you away. Remember stealing a glance during prayers, watching as your eyelashes caressed your cheeks under the evening light. Remember the way you danced at our reception afterwards, drunk on wine and love, as your arms wrapped around my neck. I whispered how unlady like you looked, teasing you because I knew you didn’t care and you kissed me. Claimed to the world that I was yours. You were mine. You whispered later it did not matter what the world thought of you just what I did.

My darling, I think the world of you.

You ask me, when I’m out at sea like I am now, how I pass the nights. If it ever gets lonely now that you can’t travel at my side. Of course my luv, the nights are the longest without you in my arms. I am spent staying up late at night thinking about our wedding night and the nights to follow.

I remember the way you looked the night we became one. The way your hands caressed mine in reverence, touching and exploring my body as I watched you. The way your lips puckered before my own found them, claiming them for myself. The way you felt, warm and full, how I couldn’t get more of you. The way you sounded, your whispered sighs filling the room as my hands entwined in your own. I love the way you look before you give all of yourself to me, body shaking under my own.

I love all of you.

I remember the way you looked during your coronation. When you officially became my queen. The way you wore the colors of Narnia, the dark burgundy and gold colors against your skin as you walked down the aisle alongside me. The proud way you held your chin at other lords who came to watch the festivities. The way that I saw men bend to your beauty alone, not knowing the strength behind your words or the talent behind your arrow.

You were meant to be my equal.

I remember recent months past, hearing the sounds of your screams echoing against the cold, drab walls of our castle. The way the servants hurried throughout your chamber doors in whispered tones, never making eye contact as they bought sheets and buckets of water to comfort you. For two agonizingly long days I sat outside our doors, barely sleeping, my hands in my hair. Worried for you. Worried for our child.

But you are strong, my love. You both are.

It was the sound of the scream that broke me from my zombied state. The way it resonated high pitched and strong and the relief of your handmaidens. The way the head nurse ran out to me to announce that we had produced a son. I don’t remember running into to the room, waiting properly for the handmaidens to clean days of your battle.

I locked eyes with you, you who was exhausted and were wearing that smile. Our son in our arms, nestled safely against your breast. The doctor assured me that you were in good health as that of my son but I cared naught to hear. I just needed to feel you, kiss my lips against your sweaty forehead before looking down into the creation that even Aslan himself would argue mirrored the beauty he had created on earth.

Caspian the 11th.

I miss you, my sweetheart. I miss you and our son. As the winds draw me closer to you, closer to our family, I write this to you, in my cabinet under candlelight. The ship is quiet and the groans of the wood echo against my ears. How I long to hear your voice. How I long to feel your lips.

How I long to be in your arms again.

Forever Yours,

Caspian the X

#ben barnes #request #king caspian x reader #the chronicles of narnia prince caspian

150 notes · View notes

kitashiwrites · 7 years

Text

Going Under - A Lucien ACOTAR Fic

Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas Characters: Lucien, Tamlin, Rhys, Amarantha, Clare Beddor, Feyre POV: Lucien Rating: T Word Count: 3023 Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10583400/

Summary: ACOTAR Chapter 28 and the aftermath from Lucien's POV

There were only days left to break the curse, and Tamlin chose to damn us all. All for the safety of one mortal girl.

Comments: Three fics in a seven day period! I honestly can't believe how much I've gotten done so far! Thank you guys for all the sweet notes on my fics this week! It's been absolutely heartwarming and so motivating, and I really can't thank you enough <3

Also, you can thank @illyriantremors from dissuading me from making this a Tamlin fic. THIS STARTED AS A TAMLIN POV. But we both agreed no one wanted to be in Tamlin's head in ACOTAR (not when we have Rhys lol) and have to suffer through more than implied Feylin. So instead you get Lucien and his disappointment with Tamlin's inaction lol

And this inspired another Lucien alternate POV for ACOMAF, so we shall see how it works out (I just really love Lucien, he needs more love).

Hope you all enjoy! :D

----

Feyre walked down the stairs in the most hideous outfit I’d seen in centuries. The layered pink silk dress and white jacket made her look ridiculous. Topped off with the most absurd little decorative hat—some human fashion, I’d be willing to wager—I couldn't help but snort at her appearance. “Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm.”

“I’m not sure the human realm would know what to do with you,” she said with what I swore was affectionate sarcasm.

I tried to smile, but I couldn't even pretend to be happy about this. I looked sharply at Tamlin, who stood in front of a gilded carriage, waiting for her patiently, as though this wasn't as final as it really was. Waiting to send her away. “I thought you were smarter than this,” I said as I turned back to her. Indeed, I really had. But it wasn't her fault that we couldn't tell her the truth of our curse. I had to remind myself of that. It wasn't her fault.

“Good-bye to you, too,” she said sarcastically. I shook my head and stalked towards Tamlin, ignoring his very clear warning growl.

“You're not even going to give her a few more days? Just a few—before you send her back to that human cesspit?” I demanded. A last plea.

“This isn't up for debate,” Tamlin snapped, pointing at the house. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

I stared him down, but I didn't even have words to express my disgust with him right now. I spat on the ground at his feet, and without waiting for his reaction, stormed up the stairs to the manor. I couldn't be there for this. I would likely get myself killed for insubordination if I stayed any longer, curse notwithstanding.

I watched her talk to Tamlin from my window, too far away to hear what they were saying even with it open. I watched him kiss her goodbye and the carriage to the Mortal Realm drive away until I couldn't see even the silhouette anymore. Watched as our last—and only—hope disappeared through the gates. I didn't go down to lunch.

~~~

Three days passed, and when I woke on the morning of the forty-ninth anniversary of our lives going to hell, I knew with a sinking feeling that the end was upon us. She hadn't come back. But then why would she? It wasn't like Tamlin had tried to keep her here in the end. I knew I was being unfair to him—he couldn't have told her anymore than we could. But that didn't stop me from feeling more than a little animosity towards my High Lord and oldest friend. I had just finished dressing and looked once more beyond the gate—as though I would miraculously see Feyre running up the drive in the last few moments, here to save us. But the gates remained shut.

I heard the shift of fabric behind me.

“You let her go.” I didn't have to turn around to know Tamlin stood in the doorway behind me. We had somehow managed to avoid each other, though it had probably been for the better.

“I did.” His answer was simple. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world to have done. I turned to Tamlin, who hadn't moved an inch. He looked like hell—as though the curse was now sapping strength directly from him. But instead of feeling sympathy, I felt a chasm of rage and sorrow rip through me.

“You let her go, and in turn, damned us all.” I waved a hand to the rest of manor behind him, to the lands beyond our borders. “You have damned Prythian to protect one mortal woman, who could have saved us all if you hadn't—”

“Lucien,” he said wearily. “This was not her battle—”

“You made it her battle when you brought her here!” I snapped. “You made it her battle when you sent Andras out and she fulfilled the requirements to be our salvation by killing him with hate in her heart. This all comes back to you.” I could feel myself shaking in anger now. “Do you really think that she will leave Feyre alone? If she doesn't go after her immediately, she will tire of Prythian eventually.”

“And hopefully by that time Feyre will have passed on and be out of her clutches.” I gaped at my oldest friend.

“You really don't care what happens to us, do you?” I asked softly, but the defeated look in his eyes was answer enough. Any remaining wisp of hope I had of getting free from this metal mask, of living without the fear that any moment we would be whisked Under the Mountain, was crumbling into nothingness. “So what are you going to do? Just sit here and wait for her to take you away?”

Tamlin turned without answering, leaving the doorway. I followed after him through the halls, and watched as he walked to the head of the table, taking a seat. The table filled with food as it always did, and Tamlin grabbed a roll & a knife. He gestured to my usual seat with the knife.

“The food is going to get cold.”

“Tamlin-”

“This is not up for discussion, Lucien,” he answered harshly. “Now eat.” He tore open the roll with more force than was necessary, and reached for a helping of potatoes.

I let out a ragged sigh, the pit of my stomach feeling like it was in a free fall. The last thing I wanted to do was eat. But even in my reckless anger, I didn't dare ignore the command in his voice and sat in my usual seat.

The table seemed so empty without her here. Even though we had spent so many years exactly like this, content if not for the weight of the curse bearing on us… for the first time it felt like something was missing. I hated to admit that a murderous, brash, and uncouth mortal girl had somehow wormed her way under my skin and made me not only respect her, but made me come to count her as a friend.

I looked at the only real one I had remaining now as he cut into his food, acting like we could just go on with our lives and pretend that Feyre had never existed. That our time wasn't going to be up at any—

The glass of the windows around us shattered simultaneously. I hunched down and covered my face out of reflex, and a loud crack echoed through the room as I heard the doors slam against the wall. There was the crunch of footsteps walking over broken glass, and I looked up slowly.

As though my thoughts had summoned him, Rhysand sauntered into the room with a feline grin. “That's all right Tamlin, I’ll just let myself in. No need to answer the door or anything. Though it seems my timing was perfect.” He took the seat opposite from Tamlin—the one Feyre used to occupy—and helped himself to a roll and a bit of jam. He looked over at me and narrowed his eyes, though the smirk stayed in place. “I’m surprised to see you here, Little Lucien. I’d have thought you would have run for the hills before I arrived.” He took a bite of the roll, and I could feel my anger threatening to spill over.

“Just get on with it, Rhysand,” I gritted out. He clicked his tongue.

“I told you, only my enemies and prisoners call me that. Though I guess you technically are, by virtue of me being Amarantha's whore and all.” He snagged a piece of meat from the center of the table. “Much as I would love to drag you both to our lovely home, I’m afraid this invitation is only for Tamlin. The rest of the Courts and their High Lords have already been summoned. All we need now is one more.” He looked around the table. “I see your betrothed isn't here, Lucien. Did she see the error of her ways and run back to the Mortal Realms like a smart human? Or did you tell her what the Autumn Court does to those that don't meet their standards?”

A low blow, as always. But he was the High Lord of the Court of Nightmares. The only rules he played by were his own.

“Did you tell her?” Tamlin asked harshly. Rhysand turned towards him with a lazy smile and propped his chin on his fist.

“Tell her what?” Tamlin almost relaxed for a moment before Rhysand continued, “That you had an inconsequential mortal woman in your manor and that she was clearly in love with you?” He paused for a heartbeat before the smile turned smug. “What do you take me for?”

Tamlin let out an enraged roar and in the blink of an eye, he was suddenly frozen inches from Rhysand’s face, claws out, as though he had planned to rip his face off. Rhysand clicked his tongue again.

“I see even having a human here did nothing to tame the beast inside you.” He looked hard at Tamlin and pushed him back roughly into the chair. Tamlin landed like a rag doll in the seat and straightened up, freed of whatever spell had held him in place, and glared at the smirking bastard. “You had your fun,” Rhysand continued, “but now my queen demands her payment.”

“You came into my court uninvited,” Tamlin said stiffly. “I have grounds to declare—”

“Only you would try to invoke a rule that has had no absolutely no recourse in the last century.” Rhysand raised his eyebrow. “I told you I was coming back.” He gestured to the broken glass on the floor and the doors, now hanging off of their hinges. “What part of this was not clear enough for you? But then you’ve known this day was coming for forty nine years.” He rose from the table. “Enough chit-chat though. It's time to go, Tamlin. Amarantha awaits.”

With all the dignity he could muster, Tamlin stood up from his chair.

“Tam—” I started. Rhysand looked at me, as though considering something.

“On second thought, perhaps you should come with us, Lucien. The entire manor is surrounded by Amarantha’s army, and if I leave you here, the chances of you surviving are not high. But you are welcome to make a choice.”

“What's in it for you?” I snapped. He had no reason to let me live. He’d said it himself; the invitation, if it could be called that, was only for Tamlin.

“I owe you no explanations,” he said dismissively. “Though if you would rather stay, I’m sure at least your mother will mourn you. But if you are coming, I’d suggest moving before the next turn of the century.”

I scowled at him, but rose from my seat nonetheless. No matter what his motives were, I wasn't about to… how did the humans say it? Look a gift horse in the mouth? Feyre had apparently rubbed off on me more than I’d thought.

I followed Tamlin out into the garden. Sinister looking creatures—monsters really—truly did surround the manor, sharp teeth bared in bloodstained grins and claws extended. They parted for Rhysand without a word, though the feeling of their eyes on us as we passed sent chills up my spine.

“Round up the stragglers,” Rhysand said to them. “The queen wants them brought alive. I’ll join you in a moment.” He waved to the manor, and they began moving in. Tamlin didn't even look back. There were still people in there—those who called the Spring Court home. And he was leaving them.

“Tamlin—”

“He’s accepted his fate, fox-boy. We all have. It's about time you joined the party.” There was a hint of bitterness in Rhysand’s voice. He turned to two sentries that waited away from the others—not as bloodthirsty, but no less lethal. “Take them to Her Majesty's court. The fox goes with the rest of the Spring Court. The High Lord goes before the queen.” A silent nod. I felt the cold, clammy hands that made me cringe grip my elbow tightly. In the blink of an eye, we were no longer in the garden, but a dark, cavernous hallway. I had been here only twice in the last hundred years, but I had always been able to leave. I knew as the guards opened the doors that I had seen the outside world for the last time. They ushered me to the side of the room, where I saw more masked fae—more of the Spring Court.

The regally dressed woman on the throne at the back of the room was one I had hoped to never see again. Tamlin's face was stoic—almost stone like—as he was led in and stood in the middle of her throne room. Amarantha gave him a serpentine smile, toying with the finger bone that hung around her neck with the hand that displayed an eye encased in crystal. Both, I knew from our past interactions, were Jurian’s. I was relieved to see the one she had taken from me had not joined it.

“Welcome home, Tamlin,” she purred, her eyes lowering in a way that I was sure she intended to be seductive.

He shrugged roughly out of the grasp of the guards, and walked up to the dais, avoiding the gaze of faeries that watched him from every corner of the room. Avoided the looks of disappointment—of despair—that were prominent on their faces. Those few remaining faeries who had hoped as I had that Tamlin would be their saving grace.

“It's been such a long time,” she simpered and gestured to the seat next to her. “Your throne has been waiting for you, High Lord.” He showed no emotion, didn't speak a word. He ascended the steps and took the seat next to hers without a word, his posture uncomfortably rigid.

“Nothing to say, Tamlin? No thanks for me bringing you back instead of killing you where you stood?”

He still said nothing. Amarantha pouted.

“Is this the game we’re going to play now? Do you really believe that sitting in sullen silence is going to change anything?”

Tamlin stared at the wall ahead of him.

“Well, perhaps this will change your mind.” She clapped her hands. “We wanted to make your first day in my court extra special,” Amarantha continued with a cruel grin, “and so we got you a little.... present.” She looked towards the back of the room. “Bring her in,” she ordered.

I felt sick fear in the pit of my stomach. The doors opened again, and the sentries dragged a struggling, sobbing girl through the murmuring crowd, followed by the Attor. They pushed her roughly to her knees in front of the dais.

“I don't know who this is,” Tamlin said evenly. I had never seen this girl before either. She was clearly mortal, but other than that, she looked like any other human to me.

“Now now, Tamlin,” she cooed, “you didn't really think I wouldn't hear about your human pet, now did you?” Tamlin's eyes flicked to the side, to Rhysand, who leaned against the wall near him, a bored expression across his face, his hands shoved in his pockets. He had apparently snuck into the room when I hadn't been paying attention.

She turned to the frightened girl shaking at the foot of the dais.

“Is your name Clare Beddor?” she demanded.

The girl nodded, her face pale.

“Louder!” Amarantha demanded. The girl shrunk back in terror.

“Y-yes,” the girl stuttered. Clare Beddor… the name Feyre had given Rhysand when—

By the Cauldron.

I looked at the girl in horror. That name she had given him had been a real person. This girl—Clare—was supposed to be Feyre. But she didn't look anything like her. Rhysand knew what Feyre looked like—

“Do you know this man?” Amarantha said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. The girl shook her head emphatically.

“No! I’ve never seen him before in my life,” she insisted, her voice choked with tears. “My family…what did you do to my family?”

“Oh, I wouldn't be worrying about them, girl,” the Attor said from behind her, its voice cold and full of amused malice. “They have nothing to worry about anymore.” Clare turned back to the redheaded demon on the throne in front of her.

“Please, I—”

“Did you not go hunting at the Wall?”

“No, I—”

“Did you not kill a faerie in the woods?”

“No—”

“Did you not—”

“No!” The girl cried out in panic. “I don't know how! I’ve never hunted a day in my life and I’ve never seen a faerie before!”

“You dare lie to the High Queen of Prythian?” Amarantha demanded.

“I’m not—”

“You have guts, girl, I’ll give you that. I will enjoy watching them break you slowly.” She turned to the Attor and gave him a vile grin. “Give her a welcome worthy of my court.”

I could still hear her screams hours later, could still see her broken, bruised body as they nailed her to the wall across from Amarantha's throne.

As I fell into a fitful sleep that night, I thanked the Mother and the Cauldron it hadn't been Feyre.

And weeks later, after Clare had died suddenly in the middle of one of her public torture sessions, and I had finally let myself breathe as I thought Feyre was now finally safe, I watched her be brought before Amarantha's throne. She had come back to Prythian looking for us, the stupid girl, and now was declaring to everyone that she had come for the one she loved. After half a century of waiting, she had come just weeks too late. As Feyre looked pleadingly at Tamlin sitting next to Amarantha, his stoic expression showing no love, no compassion, no recognition... I asked them why Fate had chosen to be so cruel.

#Going Under #acotar fanfiction #Lucien #Lucien POV #ACOTAR Chapter 28 #under the mountain #kitashiwrites #my fic

67 notes · View notes

thesunglassesgamer · 7 years

Text

The Talk, (Pt 4)

Part four of my current project. I’ve wanted to use the Future Kids AU after it came out, but I’d already started the story. I had debated between using it here or starting a new story with it, but that new story would’ve been too close to the current story. So, the future kids get dumped into this story in the fourth chapter. Whoops. Reviews, comments, and suggestions are welcome. Enjoy.

Marco stood, alone, in the forest of certain doom. He had been attempting to find Buff Frog to persuade him to help raid Ludo's hideout. At the very least, he was expecting Buff frog to give him some info on the where the hideout was. So far, however, Marco had yet to find Buff Frog. He'd met several different plants and animals that had tried to make him their supper, but no Buff Frog. Frustrated, he sat down on a rock and moped.

"How can I find Ludo's place without Buff Frog's help?" He muttered bitterly. "I've got no leads or anything. I can't go back and ask Star, obviously, but I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do." He silently cursed himself for running off so abruptly. The smart and rational plan of action would have been to contact Buff Frog ahead of time and set up a plan with him. But Marco hadn't been thinking, and had just wanted to fix the problem as soon as possible. He usually wasn't one to run off without a plan, but it seemed like everyone was acting oddly that day. That didn't excuse him for being an idiot, though. It just explained why.

Marco sat on the rock, mulling over ways to find Ludo, when a large explosion of light and sound erupted fifteen feet behind him. He scrambled around, shocked. He ended up falling on his butt with his body facing the source of the din. A girl, riding a massive cog led by goat-sheep had come through a massive portal. She sat up straight, headstrong, and willful, ready to take on the world. When she saw Marco laying on the ground in front of her, she winced. Teenage awkwardness and guilt were added to her features. She quickly got off her giant cog and offered Marco a hand.

"Sorry, my bad," the girl said. Marco didn't take her hand. He just stared up at her. She was wearing a dark green dress that ended at her knees, pink stockings that went up through the dress, and boots that covered most of her legs. Her eyes were blue, her long hair brown, and her skin a fair tone of white. Overall, she looked like a nice fourteen-year-old. But there was something that caught Marco's eyes. On both of the girls cheeks were two, little, pink fleur-di-lis's. They looked remarkably like the signs of a Mewman Royal family member. She, in turn, looked a lot like his friend Star, except for the hair. And he hadn't seen the girl at the Royal Family get-together the month before.

"Uh, hello?" The girl asked, clearly weirded out by Marco's behavior.

Marco blinked rapidly, then shook his head. Distracted, he responded, "Sorry, I just- Your cheeks."

The girl inhaled deeply and blushed. "Oh shit! I mean, crap! Fsdfsdsdf…" She put her mouth over her hands and looked like she had done something horrible.

Marco's eyebrows rose. He'd met several strange creatures on his outings with Star. No matter how many trips he went on, however, no weird event ever prepared him for the next. "Who are you?" He interrogated, growing more suspicious then confused.

The girl closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked composed and orderly. Almost queen-like. "Forgive me, d- sir. My name is Elizabeth Diaz Butterfly. I'm your daughter from the future, and I have terrible news."

Marco looked at the girl blankly, then amusedly. "Sounds like a ploy to get me killed," Marco said frankly.

The girls eyes opened wide, insulted. "Wha- What the hell? I'm not-"

Another large light show with spectacular sounds came out of the forest. Both Marco and Elizabeth looked up to see another teenager approaching them. He was dressed in cast-off clothes that looked mostly like a collection of old rags. His hair was brown, his cheeks covered in freckles and scars, his skin the same color as Elizabeth's, and his eyes- His eyes reminded Marco of Jackie.

"Oh, great," Marco muttered to himself. "Another one."

The boy nodded. "Sorry that I'm late, father. Time travel can be difficult to master."

Marco rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Of course you are," he replied dryly.

"Who the hell are you?" Elizabeth demanded, clear disgust on her face.

The boy looked equally as disgusted with her. "I'm Jam, the son of-" He was rudely interrupted by Marco, who'd given up on trying to take the world around him seriously.

"Wait, let me guess, you're the son of Jackie and myself, is that it?"

Jam blinked. "I, uh, yeah. Yes I am."

The girl narrowed her eyes at Jam while Marco simply nodded as though everything made perfect sense. "So you're the error in the timeline that Glossaryck was talking about," she stated, venom in her tone.

"Quite the contrary, Elizabeth," Jam replied, cool hatred on the tip of his tongue. "You are the mistake that needs to be fixed."

Elizabeth's eyes flared in outrage and she took out her wand. It was very similar to Star's wand, but Elizabeth's wand was complete and at full power. She aimed it at her counterpart, who'd already taken out his own weapon: a plasma rifle with the words "no magic" plastered on the side. Before any mayhem could happen, however, Marco put himself between the two of them.

"Hey hey hey," he said quickly, hoping to get their attention before they started shooting. "Let's be reasonable here. No one needs to die." He frowned for a second, then amended himself. "Yet."

"Get out of the way," the two teenagers responded. They responded at the same time, disturbing Marco and pissing off the other two.

Marco got out his pair of dimensional scissors and put them next to his pelvis. "If you two don't back down, I'll make sure neither of you exist!"

Both of his supposed kids went rigid.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jam said, incredulous.

"Dad, you can't!" Elizabeth complained.

Marco gave them both very hard looks. "You two are my kids from the future, huh? Prove it."

Both Jam and Elizabeth looked stunned. Jam finally said, "Well, when I turned twelve and puberty hit, you told me about how you had done your first-"

"That's enough, you pass," Marco interjected, blushing. He breathed in and out, then looked to Elizabeth knowingly. She gave him a silly smile.

"Glossaryck told me about when Star's wand got malfunctioned. You got hit by his book so hard it tore the clothes off of you."

Marco sighed, realizing that he had not been blessed with the troubles of nasty monsters or ludo's henchmen. The two teenagers were telling the truth. He had kids. From two different timelines.

He gave a wry smile. "Well, on the upside, you two prove something that I didn't think would happen."

They both looked at him, confused. "What?"

"I never thought I'd ever get laid."

Silence. Silence reigned for a solid ten seconds. The tension that had been rising since Elizabeth had revealed herself had been growing up to that point. And Marco had broken it with a stupid self-deprecating joke.

Jam giggled. Elizabeth snorted. "Wow, dad," they said in unison. "I knew mom said you were a dork, but-" They caught themselves and stared at each other.

"Yeah, creepy," Marco agreed. Now that they weren't trying to kill each other and he'd had time to look at them, he could believe that they were his kids. The brown hair was the biggest giveaway, but they both had his strong jaw and feminine body (although Jam had gotten more masculine, Marco noted dryly). The idea that they were actually his kids was starting to sink in. Panic overwhelmed his thoughts.

"HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING HERE? HOW ARE YOU FROM DIFFERENT TIMELINES? WHY ARE YOU HERE? DID SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN? WHERE ARE FUTURE ME AND FUTURE EVERYONE ELSE? ARE THEY DEAD? DO I DIE EARLY ON? WHAT-"

Jam smacked him upside the head with the back of his hand, shutting Marco up. He backed up a bit, reeling mostly in surprise. His hand instantly went up to his face. "Ow," he whined.

Elizabeth looked at Jam with mock horror. "Really, Jam? Was that necessary?"

Jam shrugged. "You had the same dad as me. We don't have time for him to ramble on about what might go wrong or be wrong."

Elizabeth waved her hand around, dismissing Jam's argument. "Not that, I meant how you bitch-slapped him. You should have just done a normal slap, like this."

She then proceeded to slap Marco across the face with the palm of her hand. Marco was no less prepared for the second hit than he was the first. "Ow, ow, stop it!"

They both gave him wide grins. "I don't know about Elizabeth," Jam explained. "But I don't usually get a chance to smack you across the face."

"No, no, Jam, believe you me, I've had just as few chances."

Marco scowled at the two. "Well, as long as you aren't trying to kill each other…"

"Only because you'd doom us both," Elizabeth explained.

"Otherwise, we'd be trying our hardest," Jam finished.

"Wh-" Marco stopped himself. He thought over his situation. Then he nodded. "You know what? I don't care why you're here. Not right now I don't. Because it doesn't matter."

His children looked inquisitively at him. "How can it not matter right now?" Jam asked, scoffing.

"Because right now we aren't going to worry about it," Marco replied. His eyes had turned sinister with a wild plan in his brain. "I need both of you to help me. Glossaryck and the book have been stolen. I need to find Ludo and get it back. And," he included before they could interrupt, "that is an order from your father."

Elizabeth scowled. "You can't tell us what to do, you aren't even really our father yet!"

"And I might never be if you can't help me," Marco replied. His tone was smug and rich but his face showed sober fear. "I'd probably die without you two. So help me. Please. You two can discuss your problem later, but for now I just need help."

Jam and Elizabeth shared a short, silent discussion on the matter, then looked to their father. They nodded.

Someone asked for me to give my thoughts on the story and stuff so I'm going to do that now.

I'll be honest, I only had the first chapter in mind when I started. It was tempting to just keep it was a one-shot, but cliffhangers are bullshit. I'm updating every Sunday, if it hasn't been obvious. I wanted to make a story that didn't just end with Jackie being shallow or Marco randomly admitting his love. When I finally have everyone get back together, the idea is to have the reasons for what happens feel real. Please give as much constructive criticism as you can, and I hope you have enjoyed this mess so far!

#starco #jarco #star vs the forces of evil #the bolded stuff is what I added when I uploaded this last month

5 notes · View notes

amadisonfxo · 4 years

Text

EXPECTATIONS

I often expect greatness, creativity, grace and a form of unattainable perfection out of myself, most of us do. For me it's in the videos I post, how I spend those few hours in the morning I have before work or how well I take care of my money, space, relationships and belongings. Being perfect isn't a thing, you knew that.

I want to hone in on my own and probably most people's expectations out of themselves and whatever kind of content is being produced (or not) that I've unknowingly been holding over my own head for however long. I'm not sure if this is gonna be a story time here or if I'm trying to help?? Or preach some of my VERY generalized knowledge I've created over the years, we'll see.

I've been putting out videos and putting myself out there since I was about 10 or 11 years old. That's 6 or 7, I really don't know, years of fully embarrassing myself and or inspiring the people who continue to or have watched my videos before, but that's FAR fetched:) I've had to learn a lot and be knocked down a couple times, I'm still learning everyday. I say embarrassing because you see, I thinkthat the videos I post are good, but I FULLY know that there are people out there absolutely CRYING, bawling. Their eyes out at my feet, the way I move or whatever it may be. That underlying knowledge of that random person, teacher or dancer out there, is a thought I had to completely ignore to keep doing what I love to do. The point of me mentioning that is that maybe nobody is thinking that, maybe I'm just my biggest critic, which i'm sure everyone has heard that saying before because it is so! true! Everyone should hear it. I don't think there's been one time where I've been in a class and thought to myself, "Wow they look kinda dumb!" So why would anyone else be looking at me in class?? How selfish of us to believe that everyone cares about what we're doing!

It is a different story however, when you're putting yourself on Instagram, Youtube, etc, to be watched over and over however many times, sent in dms to be laughed at by Sally and her friends. Your pride is something you set aside when you take to social media. Your ability to not be made fun of is taken away, you're a punching bag for people who believe they are superior. They might be though! They very well could be better then you. But the way they take away the value of your work, takes away their ability to be anything less than perfect. The people who do these things that make you feel less than claim they SO PERFECT. Perfect enough that they can send you, your own Instagram story, that you thought was good enough to post and make fun of you, directly to your face actually! But I've learned in situations like that, whether it's a second hand, "I heard it from this person, who heard it from her, that this person said that you are absolutely ass at dancing" or directly to you, you take it, you laugh because you've worked your butt off, (or you just simply thought your video to "Dancing with a Stranger" that took about 5 minutes to make was good). You have understand that your worth is defined by you and your mindset ONLY, not the miserable girl behind a screen who doesn't even know you. Because that is just silly.

I hope everyone gets to a point where they understand that just because not everyone thinks you're good and just because some people don't understand what you do, which I guarantee someone will make fun of you along the way, it's still important. I hope you know that your journey is still valuable, there is no end to progress and you are good. If you love what you're doing, you will exude joy, people will notice. You are good, when you are doing everything for the right reasons. I hope you know that they're having a bad day, they are miserable and they need love. Laugh at them but not to their face because you trust your ability and THEY NEED LOVE.

By putting yourself out there, you gain the skill of being unapologetic and you set yourself apart, by being honest and vulnerable. I did not know this level of maturing was what I was getting myself into when I decided to make my account, dance in my living room and post it at age 10. Nobody expected social media to over take every aspect of our lives in the way it has and we've had to adapt immensely, which is especially hard when you're growing and learning. It is definitely nothing compared to our queen Charli out here but it's the same idea. We are all put on a pedestal by ourselves because of what we see everywhere, to be an Insta model, Autumn Miller (if you post dance videos), take the best pictures, do cool things for a photo or a video, for what? Live your life to the fullest some would say, capture moments and you'll realize how cool your life is without even trying. Do what you love, post what you want and your audience and circle will come to you. You will be amazed when you start being honest and people start messaging you saying how much you helped them or how much they love what you put out by posting something you weren't even too sure about or you thought was out of your comfort zone. Just post it! People respect and find value in reading or seeing things they have also felt, so be brutally and painfully honest. Even if you think you sound dumb. You're your biggest critic, it's not dumb. You've heard this before but our Instagrams and such are all highlight reels, nobody actually looks the way they do or acts the way they portray most of the time. Do not be hard on yourself.

I bow down to people who on the other side, hustle and practice in private, who don't share their work, who can motivate themselves and don't need recognition, who work silently and come out with great, just as rewarding and even better of results. You don't need to post. Some people don't find value in Social media and honestly some days I have a hard time figuring out why I'm so drawn to sharing everything I do. We should all recognize that our paths are all different. We are all experiencing life and the obstacles in millions of different ways and how we choose to move forward everyday in our work and our dreams is just as valuable as the next person. Be empowered by your path, respect the way you hustle, be inspired by others success and be sympathetic in everybody's trial and error. It's important to understand, respect and support the way someone goes about the things that bring them joy and fulfillment.

This leads me into the idea that comparison will always KILL your happiness. It doesn't matter what you do, there will always be someone better than you, in your mind that is (Nobody is better than anyone if you think hard and long about it. Being better than anyone does not exist.) On the other side, there's people who want what you have, whether it be materialistic or talent. Someone is working for what you have. Be thankful and confident in the things you do and understand that no amount of "things" can make you as happy as you think. As perfect as you think Alexis Ren is, she has issues and maybe even more than you. Romanticize everything you do and you'll start to appreciate the little things in your life, like the 15 minute drive to work, the early rise for class, grocery shopping. Make everything glamourous.

Better car, cooler parents, more flexible, whatever. Someone will always have more than you. You WILL find someone who has more no matter how much you accomplish. You need to find comfort in where you are at in every stage. Even the ones such as quarantine, failure, rejection or a break up that leaves you paralyzed in bed. It's alllll apart of the process. You will find goodness eventually, even if that means only going through another set back within a few weeks. Imagine how boring life would be If you were perfect all the time. Soooo boring. Kylie Jenner is bored. You can't compare yourself to people who have had more time, more training, as much as you want to ask yourself why you aren't at the same level as her, or her, it doesn't make sense. You can't compare yourself to Jane who is beside you at a Dance convention who has been training for 12 years, to you, who learned off Dance Moms for 6 years and is only in her second year?? That just sounds silly. I'm still working on that and I've become a lot more comfortable in taking risks and understanding I don't deserve the same opportunities that seasoned beautiful beautiful dancers get. But I still owe myself a shot for the honest work I've done. I learned recently put aside my insecurities, I've gone In red faced and embarrassed but leaving proud and fulfilled because I truly love dancing, more then most things. (This whole thing was supposed to be about dance??)

If I continued to discredit my work (basement dance videos) and the time I give, I'd continue to feel like a failure. I'm not a failure, I work hard, I put myself out there, my story is just different from most. No two are the same. As your Kindergarten teacher probably told you. We are all perfect. We all need to find our level of expertise and run with it and be sooo incredibly proud. Even if you can't do a triple turn, you are no less valuable then the girl that can. It sounds ridiculous when you someone says it out loud right?

"You can always start again. Clean out your social media. Create a new account for your new taste in music. Study or work in a new city. Start socialising with new people. Choose a new signature scent and style and purge the outdated parts of yourself. If you don't like where you're at, but don't know what to do about it - try starting again."

"Trust your hard work, it's unlocking doors you can't see yet"

Now this, just might be my favourite thing I've ever read. I read this before I started writing this about two weeks ago and I knew I wanted to leave you with it. I wish I was more like this.

"Deep down you know exactly what you're capable of. There's even moments where you get a glimpse of all the potential you have. You can get there. You just have to be willing to sacrifice the habits, things and situations that are standing in the way of your success."

0 notes

thewebofslime · 5 years

Link

This past winter, my husband Adam brought up a news story about a cult leader in Brazil who had been arrested for sexual assault. “That’s not the guy you went to see, is it?” “Of course not,” I answered, “my guy wasn’t a cult leader.” It took several more mentions before I decided to read this story for myself. The predator turned out to be “my guy,” indeed — John of God, whom I’ve credited with helping me find myself. “Did you go there when you hit rock bottom?” Adam asked. “My rock bottom was a decade long.” It came out as a joke; we both laughed. But I wasn’t kidding. My current life as a wife and mother of two girls bears little resemblance to the decade in question — the period of hopelessness and stagnation that enveloped most of my 20s. I needed a good therapist and antidepressants (which I eventually got to). Before that, like many, I turned to spirituality. I studied reiki and meditation. I read Eckhart Tolle, Abraham Hicks, Gary Zukav and countless others. And I traveled from New York to Abadiânia, Brazil, to meet João Teixeira de Faria, known as João de Deus or John of God. For years I referred to that trip as visiting an ashram. In reality, it was the compound of a medium who claimed to channel the spirits of doctors and saviors. Related Video: Growing Up in an Apocalyptic Cult 0:00 4:08 'Nobody even knew it was a cult until way later' John of God wasn’t the first healer I sought out. During my “rock bottom” days, I dropped $200 on a charlatan in Queens, New York. She told me I’d been cursed and wanted me to cough up 200 more for her to de-curse me. Another time, someone recommended a Russian mystic to my mom, who was desperate to help me. He was a Soviet immigrant like us and lived in a dark Brooklyn apartment crammed with Russian Orthodox depictions of Jesus. When I went to see him, he offered to “manually release” my curse, as he held his hands alarmingly close to my crotch. I politely declined, payed him and left. John of God was seemingly on a level above everyone else. I got introduced to him through my uncle Misha, who was fighting cancer. Misha was more sarcastic than pious. He was well-read and took an interest in everything worldly. I would never have expected him to go the spiritual route ― until he got sick. My dad accompanied Misha to see the healer in Brazil. They returned hopeful and with an air of peace. Though I wasn’t physically ill, I wanted to go too. My spirit was broken. My depression first took hold when I immigrated to America at age 8. I restrained sobs in my new, crowded Brooklyn classroom. I pined for the lost order and familiarity of my childhood in Riga, Latvia. It wasn’t a perfect place by any means. Most Jews there, like my own ancestors, were killed during the Holocaust. My family lived in a communal apartment with strangers. The infamous Soviet lines for food and toilet paper were very much a reality. But it was all I had known. In America, I faced bullying and, perhaps, a lifelong identity crisis. Who did I have to be to be liked and accepted? I changed my name — Asya to Jessie — and I hardened myself. Or so I thought. View photos Me in second grade in the Soviet Union. (Courtesy Of Jessie Asya Kanzer) More At 21, when I ended up in a bed I didn’t want to be in with an internship supervisor I didn’t even find attractive, I was bewildered. I had been miserably toiling away in business school, looking for an out. This film production internship was a godsend. I cried as he took off my clothes, the word “No” stuck in my throat. Why did I go to his claustrophobic apartment in the first place? How naïve was I to think he would actually do what he said ― show me the film he was working on? I buried that incident as best I could. But my trust in myself was gone. For the next few years, I struggled to find my footing. When a car ran a red light and crashed into mine, my concussed brain got a much needed respite. I barely minded the scar on my face. Living with my parents, I tried my hand at various jobs. Nothing stuck. I couldn’t make a relationship work, or friendships for that matter. “You’re too high-maintenance,” my best friend told me as I gave her a hard time yet again for having a life away from me. “I need a break.” I wanted my monkey mind to shut up. I wanted to stop picking my skin, making it bleed over every blemish. I wanted to be normal. Using the insurance money I got from the car accident, I purchased airfare for my pilgrimage. I booked an English-speaking guide who would lead a group of us to “The Casa” where the healing took place. I read everything I could about John of God. I filled my suitcase with the light-colored clothing we were supposed to wear there. And I waited in anticipation to leave my broken self behind. View photos Me outside The Casa in Abadiânia, Brazil, where John of God could be found. (Courtesy Of Jessie Asya Kanzer) More Alone in Abadiânia for two weeks, I settled in at a simple pousada (guesthouse) that was walking distance from The Casa. It was a small rural town — quiet, filled with untamed nature. I slept with a broom nearby because strange giant bugs liked to settle above my bed. There was no television or internet to distract me from what I came to do: heal. Meeting the medium was a solemn process. Hundreds of people in white flocked to The Casa every morning — some in wheelchairs, others frail from chemo. In an orderly line, we waited to go before him so he could prescribe our cures. Mine was as follows: Five trips to the local sacred waterfall Four months without sex, alcohol or black pepper Four bottles of blessed herbal capsules A translator quickly scribbled these directions on a small piece of paper. I met many kind people, some of whom journeyed to see the spiritualist yearly ― folks who had dedicated their lives to a commune for the disabled, women with cancer who still had the most positive outlook … and myself, the original me who wasn’t eaten up by fear or loneliness or self-pity. I liked her. View photos En route to The Casa in Abadiânia. (Courtesy Of Jessie Asya Kanzer) More For three hours a day, I sat in meditation in the “current room,” helping to conduct energy for healings. It felt special, purposeful. I napped, hiked, and stood under that freezing holy waterfall. I prayed in front of The Casa’s triangle — a big wooden wall hanging whose three sides represented faith, love and charity. And then I went home. I was ready to start anew, but it took a lot more trial and error to get myself together. I often appealed to the spirits that John of God purported to channel, surrounding myself with crystals from Abadiânia and with a replica of that magic triangle signed by the man himself. As an actress-waitress, I moved to Los Angeles — only to realize I longed for ordinary family life. I became a 30-year-old social media peon back in New York. I read the Tao Te Ching and lived simply. I found love. Uncle Misha passed away a year after my trip. My mom had a photo of him on her mantle that was taken in Brazil — he was resting his chin on his fist like Rodin’s “The Thinker.” He looked whole. Then, in December 2018, João Teixeira de Faria was arrested on charges of rape and statutory rape. Hundreds of allegations were brought against him by women and girls from all over the world, including his own daughter. Even more shockingly, he was accused of running a baby trafficking scheme, where young sex slaves bore children he sold to hopeful parents overseas. Allegedly, the “handmaids” were murdered after 10 years of service. In another disturbing twist, activist Sabrina Bittencourt, whose work led to John of God’s arrest, ended her life by suicide in February. She had left Brazil after receiving death threats from his followers and was living under protection in Barcelona, Spain. She was the mother of three. The guru I sought after getting date-raped was likely a rapist himself — and a madman. I had fallen for him, but I was in good company. Renowned spiritual teacher Wayne Dyer sang John of God’s praises. My idol Oprah Winfrey interviewed him in 2012 and said she felt humbled and filled with a sense of peace. My father and my uncle believed in him, too. When people are sick, whether of body or soul, they will do anything to get better. It was devastating that a “miracle maker” took advantage of those most vulnerable. I’d been a cog in a machine that gave power to a monster. My beatific memories of healing were a farce. I felt lost, yearning to recalibrate. I began the process of erasing John of God from my psyche and from my home. I trashed his magic triangle, which hung in my daughter’s nursery. A delicate rose quartz crystal went in the garbage as well. I kept another crystal from Abadiânia, though. It was heavy and solid. It made me think not of John of God, but of myself — the strong self I started to rediscover there. I remembered also the godly travelers who came together in hope — it was they who brought the peace. I have realized that no one trip or person can fix those of us with demons. It takes a commitment we try to uphold daily — whether in an ashram, a therapist’s office or, like me, in a house in the suburbs, with a husband, two kids and a cat.

#TheWebOfSlime

0 notes