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lailyn · 6 months

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A Frostshield Hurt/Comfort Christmas Fic.

“Are you alright? You are wearing an expression one can only describe as…” Loki tried to think of a kinder word but was unsuccessful. “Constipated.”

"Ouch." Steve winced. His waistband dug painfully into his gut, which was becoming more and more bloated with each passing minute. “I may have overindulged a bit.”

“I thought you had a cast-iron stomach,” Loki teased.

“Not against Tony’s cooking, it isn’t,” Steve grunted. “I swear the guy still has a grudge against me.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Sure. Because his special, family-recipe manicotti makes such a lethal weapon that you couldn’t help having seconds.”

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Steve muttered. He sighed and squirmed and sighed again.

“You didn’t take your Lactaid, did you?” Loki asked knowingly.

“It slipped my mind,” Steve said sheepishly. “Guess I was too distracted tonight.”

“By what?”

“Whom,” Steve corrected. “You look amazing, by the way. You’ve got good taste.”

Loki snorted fondly as he ran a hand down the Christmas sweater he had decided to permanently borrow from Steve. "I’m sure that’s humble bragging, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile; the soft green wool highlighted the gold flecks in Loki’s eyes, and the ruby neckline his cheeks, made ruddy by the many, many aperitifs Loki must have sneaked in before dinner.

“Make way for your dazzling host!” Their host breezed past with an armful of snacks and drinks. “Settle down, you two. The movie’s about to start.”

Tony unburdened his load of indulgences onto the coffee table. A bottle of wine tumbled onto the floor and rolled under the couch where Loki and Steve had been comfortably ensconced for the past half hour. “Do you mind getting that for me?”

“What are we watching? Wait, let me guess.” Thor did not have to think very hard, for the choices for good Midgardian entertainment were few and far between. “Die Hard?”

“You guessed right, sweet cheeks.” Tony said.

A collective groan rose; curiously, but not surprisingly, the sound that emanated from Steve was one of discomfort, instead of dismay like the others.

“Hey, it's either that or Baby’s Day Out!” Tony pointed at Loki and Steve. “And I don’t want those two lovebirds getting any ideas!”

Red-faced, Steve placed the bottle of wine he had painstakingly retrieved back on the table. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Tony.”

Loki only smiled a beatific smile, and snuggled just a little deeper into Steve’s side. “Everything comes from an idea.”

His smile faded slightly when he felt Steve stiffen. Before Loki could probe further, the clamour of protests around him grew.

“Oh come on, there must be hundreds of movies you can choose from!” Natasha exclaimed in exasperation.

“We’re doing things the traditional way this year. That means no cable, no satellite TV, and definitely no streaming."

“Not DVDs!” Bruce groaned. “Tony, we are living in the digital world, you do know that, right?”

“Not even digital, people,” Tony said mischievously as he waved something glinting in the air. “Think older. Think analog.”

“That’s crazy.” Bruce plucked the laser disc out of Tony’s hand, unable to contain his excitement. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages!”

The good-natured protests died down eventually and everybody, as tradition would have it, made the same comments they made every year.

"Hey, ever noticed how Bruce Willis' shirt's blood-spattered one second, clean the next?"

"Continuity's not really that important, Tony."

"The hell it isn't. My fantastic brain's not good at ignoring all these gaffes - "

"Then maybe we should have watched something fun and mindless. The Holiday, Bridget Jones, Love Actually..."

"Oh, don't get me started on Love Actually."

Throughout all the chatter, Steve remained very quiet. The pain in his stomach had grown steadily worse as the night progressed, and halfway into the movie, he was positively sweating.

As if sensing his discomfort, Loki slipped a hand underneath Steve’s shirt and began to rub his stomach in slow, circular motions.

“You are very warm,” Loki commented, eyebrows knitted in concern.

“It’s really hot in here,” was all Steve could say. Moments later, he felt the first, tell-tale tingle of Loki’s magic burn his skin.

“It’s okay, Loki.” He gently peeled Loki’s fingers off his tender abdomen. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It goes without saying that everyone wants to enjoy their Christmas presents,” Loki murmured. “And you…” He leaned in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “ - are mine.”

Delighted at seeing Steve shudder, Loki merrily added. “I want to enjoy my Christmas, Captain. So, by hook or by crook, I will have you in tip-top shape tonight.”

“But you’ll be taking on my pain. I don’t see how that’s any fun,” Steve whispered back.

“I think I can handle a little tummy ache, Steve,” Loki said dryly. “I’ve taken on far more dire maladies than that.”

“Alright,” Steve finally relented, albeit not without heavy reluctance. “But only if you’re really sure it won’t hurt you.”

“It won’t,” Loki promised. “Now relax and let me work.”

The potency of Loki’s spells never ceased to impress, and the sharp pangs in Steve’s stomach eased within seconds.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Loki said lightly. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to take your medicine. Or was it your intention all along to distract me from Alan Rickman?”

Steve laughed, and dropped a playful peck on Loki’s temple. “You caught me.”

Now that he was finally rid of all his aches and pains, Steve settled in to enjoy the movie, but it was evident before long that Loki did not share his enthusiasm.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked after catching Loki fidgeting for the hundredth time. He did a double take when he noticed Loki’s pallor. “You look pale.”

Loki’s smile was tight and wan. “I’m always pale, or so you people keep telling me.”

Steve frowned. There was something in the tone of Loki’s voice that did not sit well with him. “Is something wrong?”

Loki may be the God of Lies but he had long lost the ability to school his expressions around Steve.

“I am in terrible pain,” Loki admitted, suddenly out of breath. “I don’t know why. How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m fine, thanks to you.”

“Good,” Loki grunted. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Wait.” Steve’s heart began to race. “Did something go wrong with the transference spell you did earlier?”

“I don’t know.” Beads of sweat dotted Loki’s forehead as he clutched his stomach tighter. “This has never happened before.”

“Hey, Romeo, can you and Juliet take it down a notch? We’re kinda trying to watch a movie here.”

Steve ignored the jibe. “Jarvis, lights on, please.”

“Hey, what gives?” Irritated now, Tony swivelled in his seat to look, but his annoyance quickly turned into alarm. “Games, you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Just an upset stomach. I’m fine,” Loki gritted through his teeth.

Thor, the ever reliable Loki-speak decipherer, sighed. “He’s fibbing. I can tell by his colour. You’re looking very grey, Brother.”

“Was it the eggnog? The turkey?” Tony gave the room a surveying sweep. “Is anyone else feeling sick?”

“I ate everything and I feel fine,” Thor said.

“You’re an outlier and therefore cannot be the point of comparison against which other people’s digestive systems are measured,” Tony deadpanned.

Steve was already helping Loki to his feet. “Is there anyone still working at the medical lab?”

“It’s Christmas eve, genius,” Bruce said cheerily. “Guess who you’re stuck with?”

*************************

“How are you feeling now?” Bruce asked. “Any better?”

Loki shook his head. If anything, he felt ten times worse. “It feels like I’m being stabbed over and over.”

“Strange. The painkillers don’t seem to be working,” Bruce said. He bit his lip, appearing deep in thought. “But the bloodworks and the scans appear normal.”

“Meaning?” Steve asked.

“Meaning…” Bruce took off his glasses. “This is not medical. It’s magical. And there’s only one guy I know who’s an expert in both.”

The Avengers looked at each other with dread.

“Oh, boy,” Tony sighed. “He’s going to love this.”

*************************

The expert, as Tony had predicted quite wrongly, did not love it after all.

“Doing back-to-back shifts on Christmas, covering for your colleagues just because they have kids, dealing with drunks and delinquents…” Doctor Stephen Strange grumbled as he waltzed in through the door. “I thought those days were behind me.”

“Yes, we all know how busy you are,” Tony said sweetly. “Allow our resident Trickster to apologise for pulling you away from your festivities tonight.”

“Nothing festive about Die Hard, but apparently it’s a Sanctum tradition, so.” Stephen shrugged. “In a way, you did me a favour.”

“Let me guess. DVD.”

“Hah. VHS.” Stephen gave Tony a triumphant smile. “Wong’s a tech dinosaur.”

“You said he can help,” Steve criticised loudly, frustration evident in his tone. “Loki’s hurting and you’re standing around chatting.”

“Calm down, lover boy,” Stephen said easily. “Tell me your symptoms.”

Steve frowned. “Loki’s the one - ”

“I’m not asking Loki. I’m asking you, since you were the one who was sick in the first place.”

Everyone turned expectantly to Steve.

“What is he talking about?” Natasha asked. “Steve?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” Thor groaned. “Loki, how many times must we talk about this?” He shook his head sadly. “My brother has no sense of self-preservation.”

But Stephen paid the ever-dramatic God of Thunder no heed, focusing instead on his patient, who remained deathly quiet and still.

“Captain,” he urged again. “Your symptoms, now.”

Steve recounted his experience, beginning with feeling unwell right after dinner, putting it down to his lactose intolerance.

“So the pain started out dull and more centrally located, before it became sharp and shifted to your right side? And you felt nauseous as well?" At Steve's nod, Stephen turned grim. “These are all classic symptoms of acute appendicitis.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “But I thought it was just - are you sure?”

“What is that?” Thor asked in alarm. “Is it serious?”

“It’s only the commonest surgical emergency in us humans,” Stephen said nonchalantly. “On average, I did ten appendectomies a day back when I was a resident.”

“I don’t get it,” Thor said. “If it’s so common then why can’t Loki heal himself?”

“I said it was common,” Stephen said. “I didn’t say it wasn’t serious.”

The doctor proceeded to sit down very carefully on the edge of the bed so as to not jar his patient.

“Hello.”

“Second-Rate,” Loki returned the perfunctory greeting with a solemn acknowledgement. “How kind of you to come.”

“Well, you are a being of diplomatic importance,” Stephen replied cattily. “And Tony’s paying me by the hour. Holiday rates apply, of course.”

“Of course.” Loki’s throat bobbed up and down. “As you can see, I seem to have found myself in a bit of a bind.”

“I can see.” Stephen gestured at Loki’s midsection, the source of all troubles. “Mind if I?”

Steve pulled the privacy curtains around the bed before leaning against the wall to wait..The others showed no sign of budging either, each absorbed in their own curiousity and varying degrees of concern.

A minute later, a hand poked through the curtains. “Doctor Banner, can I see the full body scan again?”

Bruce placed the folder into the doctor’s awaiting hand.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Stephen asked when he finally emerged from behind the curtains moments later. “You know what? Don’t bother, because they’re all kind of bad.”

Appalling bedside manner aside, the Sorcerer Supreme's demeanour had taken on a confident, no nonsense air, allowing the others a glimpse of what the doctor must have been like back in the day.

“The transference spell worked beautifully, and had Loki been equipped with all our accoutrements, the inflamed appendix would have resolved itself, and you would still be gorging on pies and cookies and what have you.” Stephen paused for dramatic effect. “Unfortunately…”

“Unfortunately?” Steve echoed fearfully.

“He doesn’t have one.” Stephen said simply. “An appendix, I mean.”

Bruce frowned. “So…”

“So the inflammation has nowhere to go. There is nothing for me to cut into, or cut out. The magic cannot close its loop.”

Steve swallowed hard. “So what can we do?”

"About that." Stephen hesitated visibly. “Theoretically, as the spell has not reached its natural conclusion, it can be reversed.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Steve drew the curtains back and grabbed Loki’s limp hand. “Loki, undo the spell.”

Loki turned his head away.

Steve's tone grew hard. “Loki, give it back.”

Once again, his plea fell on deaf ears.

Steve turned to the doctor. “He can give it back, can’t he?”

“Yeah…it’s not as straightforward as that, I’m afraid,” Stephen said. “The guarding, the rigidity, the severity of the pain…it’s all pointing towards a ruptured appendix. Now you may be Captain America and all, but generalised peritonitis generally has a very poor outcome, and to transfer it back to you at this stage would be a very, very stupid idea.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you can die,” Stephen said plainly. “Brave, I give you that, but stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it means saving Loki’s life,” Steve growled.

“It still is if there’s another way that doesn’t involve you going through the worst agony you’ve ever felt in your life,” Stephen retorted.

Steve’s face blanched. “Help him. Please.”

Stephen sighed. "Loki."

Loki reluctantly turned his head a fraction.

“You’re a shapeshifter. You know the insides of your body down to every last cell. Do you have a redundant organ, a vestigial piece of organic tissue you can spare?” Stephen asked.

Loki stared at him blankly.

“If you do, we can then divert the disease process into that organ, and take it out as you would a human appendix. Problem solved."

Feeling everybody’s incredulous gaze on him, Stephen felt compelled to defend his sound, professional opinion. “It’s a valid question. Doctor Who has two hearts.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Natasha could not resist offering her services. “I can help answer that.”

“Now that is a tough choice,” Tony said with a sympathetic grimace.

“Guys, this is serious,” Bruce rebuked. “Can’t you see that Loki’s really sick?”

For once, Loki had to agree.

“Can all of you get out of here and let me die in peace?” he moaned.

“Brother,” Thor chastised. “No talk of death, please. I am barely recovered from your last one.”

“You know what’ll help with the pain? Vodka,” Natasha said. “Lots and lots of vodka. I sewed a hole in my stomach once and I hardly felt a thing.”

“Everybody, please!” Steve shouted. “Out. Now.”

“That’s right. Listen to the Captain, everybody," said Stephen drolly. "Everyone out but the next of kin."

Feeling the burn of Loki’s venomous eyes on the back of his head, he cleared his throat. “Correction. Everybody out, especially the next of kin. I need to have a private discussion with my patient.”

Tony tsk-tsked. “Way to go, Bambi. You’ve really ruined Christmas now.”

“Sorry,” Loki gasped.

“Don’t be,” Tony said, eyes softer than anyone had ever seen them. “We’ve watched Die Hard like, what, five years in a row? Besides, I’ve got it on hard copy, it’s ours forever. Unless I buy Netflix, of course.”

He gave Loki’s knee a pat, awkward but gentle. “So try not to die, huh?”

Loki could only nod, the intense pain robbing him of speech and breath.

Stephen waved an impatient hand. “You too, Captain. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to him you won’t do.”

At this point, Steve was too distraught and sick with anxiety to appreciate the doctor’s dark humour.

“I’ll be right outside, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes followed Steve and lingered on the door long after it closed behind him.

With a majestic sweep of his cloak, the Sorcerer Supreme dropped into the chair and crossed his legs expectantly. “So. What will it be?”

When Loki remained silent, Stephen decided to stop beating around the bush. “I know you’ve got the answer. I can see it in your eyes.”

Loki licked his lips. “Stark’s right. It isn’t an easy choice.”

“It’s only a choice between aesthetic perfection and survival, Loki,” Stephen said, frowning. “We have implants, prosthetics - ”

“I am not talking about breasts or testicles, Doctor. I couldn’t care less about them,” Loki interrupted. “Only that external endowments will not do. The poison is inside me.”

Stephen waited patiently; something was coming.

“I guess it was a blessing in disguise,” Loki sniffed, cursing the threat of tears stinging his eyes. “We could have watched Baby’s Day Out and made this a lot more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Oh.” Stephen’s shoulders slumped when the truth about Loki’s dilemma sank in. “Oh, dear.”

They stayed in an uncomfortable yet somewhat companionable silence for a while, before Stephen spoke again.

“Look. I don’t know much about your anatomy, yet,” Stephen said haltingly. “But if you consent to it, I’ll see what we can do about salvaging your reproductive potential. How’s that sound?”

“You will not give me false hope,” Loki said in a hard voice. “Not you.”

“Not me,” Stephen agreed. “So here’s what we’re going to do...”

*************************

“How long does this usually take?”

“It’s a key-hole procedure, it shouldn’t take long…”

“Didn’t you tell me Strange was in an accident and it ruined his hands?’

“That was years ago, maybe he got better.”

“No, he still has the shakes. But maybe it’s one of those things that gets better with alcohol?”

“Strange is drinking and operating on my brother??”

"Settle down, kids. Uncle Tony’s got it covered. He made your Uncle Stephen a new set of hands for Christmas.”

“You did what?”

“Ever heard of biomechanically loading muscle fibres to suppress involuntary tremor, Doctor Banner?”

“Only in theory.”

“Oh, it works, I assure you. It’s medical exoskeleton technology at its best. Well. Tony’s best.”

“Tony…”

Now he can quit his day job and go back to being a brain surgeon if he wants. Oof!”

“Damn you, Stark.”

Pat, pat. “Love you too, Rogers.”

*************************

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I think.” Loki listened to his body. It still pulsated with magic, his and Stephen’s combined, but where there once was fire, there was fire no more. “Yeah, I feel okay. I don't hurt anymore.”

Steve’s sigh of relief warmed his skin. Warmer still was the press of Steve’s lips on his knuckles seconds later. “You scared me.”

“I think I scared myself.” Loki smiled weakly. “And I’m not easily scared.”

“Hey, give yourself some credit. You were really sick.”

A nonchalant shrug. “Yes, well.”

“I’m serious, Loki. You nearly died.”

“Death doesn’t scare me, Captain,” Loki said gently. “At least, mine doesn’t.”

Steve was quiet. “Think I was scared enough for the both of us.”

“Sorry,” Loki apologised. “But everything’s okay now, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

Loki tilted his head and observed Steve's stiff demeanour.

“Did the doctor tell you?” he queried tentatively. “What he did in the end?”

Steve shook his head. “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. The minute he was sure you were going to pull through, he left.”

“Of course he did,” Loki said with a roll of his eyes. “I suppose I must visit him in that dreadful place of his and thank him properly.”

“Once you’re better,” Steve said firmly.

“I am better, Steve,” Loki said. “In all the ways that matter.”

“Yeah? Care to tell me more?”

Loki stiffened. “What makes you think there’s more?”

“There’s always more with you,” Steve exploded, his voice raw with emotions. “What did you sacrifice in the end, Loki? What did you have to give up to save my life?”

“I didn’t sacrifice. I bargained.”

“You bargained.” Steve clenched his fist, the one not still holding Loki’s hand. “Stop talking in riddles, Loki. Just tell me the truth.”

“Do you remember what I said? About how everything begins with an idea?” Loki asked softly. “Me joining you, fighting the good fight. Us, living together under one roof. The idea of you and me.”

“Yes. It was the best damn idea I’ve ever had in my life.”

Loki heard the conviction in Steve’s voice and his resolve crumbled.

“Well I had an idea too, you see. I’ve had it for a while now. But tonight I thought - ” his voice caught in a throat thick with tears, “I thought the idea had turned into an impossibility.”

“And what is this idea, Loki?” Steve asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“A family,” Loki exhaled shakily. “With you.”

“You don’t mean - ?”

“My womb. I thought I had to give it up,” Loki confessed. “That’s why I hesitated. I fought the pain for as long as I could.”

Steve had turned as white as paper. His hand darted out and palmed Loki’s bandaged abdomen. “No, Loki. Tell me you didn’t.”

Loki placed his hand atop Steve’s.

“I didn’t,” he said reassuringly. “Apparently I have - had - lots of women bits. Some I even had extras of, according to Strange.”

Steve still couldn’t speak, so Loki rambled on. “Something called ovaries? Yes, I think that’s what they’re called. He said even if one is removed, there’s a good chance we could still…well. You know.”

Increasingly perturbed by Steve’s continual silence, Loki took it upon himself to sit up -

Jolted out of his reverie, Steve quickly put a hand on Loki’s chest. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

It could be the close brush with death, or the lingering effects of the drugs still circulating in his veins, but Loki could feel the desire surging, the need to know what Steve Rogers was really thinking in that perfect head of his.

“Captain. My Captain,” Loki called quietly. “Does it scare you? My idea?”

Steve pulled Loki in so fast his head swam -

“You idiot,” he felt the rumble of Steve’s voice in his chest, the warmth of Steve’s kiss on his head, finally a whisper, fervent and frantic.

“The only thing that scares me is losing you.”

Everything about Steve was so warm.

Somewhere in the mansion, a clock chimed twelve.

After he was done kissing Loki to his heart’s content,

“Hey, since it’s officially Christmas and neither of us is dying…” Steve broke into a suggestive grin. “Wanna watch something?”

"Not Die Hard again,” Loki groaned.

Steve shook his head. He waved a disc in the air. “Try again.”

Loki smiled at the sight of its cover.

“Baby’s Day Out, it is.”

#frostshield #loki x steve rogers #sick loki #sick steve rogers #fic

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wastrelwoods · 1 year

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the aperitif / mizumono parallel structured bloodbaths featuring abigail and Her Dad, Her Mom, and The Man On The Phone always make me go so crazy....the fact that while it was her father who was responsible for killing her mother the first time, SHE is the one to push alana out the window in the second go-around, partly out of a belief that it would help her to save herself and partly because she was only doing what her father told her to do....hannibal making her complicit the same way she was for all the minnesota shrike murders just the ONE more time....woahg

#the cinematic parallels.......#alana is way too professional to admit to feeling maternal but god i bet she did #love all the moments of her being so protective of abigail #but also knowing the least about what she was guilty of or capable of

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youabandonedthem · 1 year

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do you remenber water

Recently i realised, the true form of health that this drink called water could provide, which is truly shocking how only beneficial it is for your body. You can pretty mch drink as much as you want (to a degree) and it's so sweet like sugar but doesnt have any, at all, not even fake sugar It's just blessed this way by God, and 0 calories so you dont have to portion it. You can just sip it throughout the day, a little like an aperitif. and apparently spades slick drinks it too. I have my very own water bottle and have been drinking it like crazy since discovering it and feel extremely bonded with him, more than ever, as well as beast, For from the eartj it came naturally to us so it's possibly one of the most beastly drinks that could be. I feel brilliant and alive like waking up,since this water came to me, and my kefir, which i make myself with non homo milk, which would be raw if it were legal. I drink these things daily and have noticed changes in my body. for one my eyes have begun to see new colours. You should try it and try and remember yourself when you grow up and drink a lot of this water so your brain will grow smarter and you can become more funny

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zintranslations · 3 years

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Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 125

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 125: Fish-Eaters

As for the outcome of this battle…Lin Qiushi slowly approached the doorway and looked in through the door crack.

He found the inside of the room completely enveloped in darkness, but could still make out the mess all over. Furniture was scattered all over the floor, but the most eye-catching piece was—lying in the center—the fishman that looked on the brink of death. It was the yellow-eyed fish monster Lin Qiushi had seen only yesterday inside this room. It was still alive, but its breaths were already quite weak. Even when Lin Qiushi stepped closer, it didn't give off any reaction.

Lin Qiushi was still careful though, especially when approaching the fish. They didn't know if it still had any fight left in it, after all.

The good thing was that the situation was a bit better than they'd anticipated—the monster's body was covered in a myriad of injuries. Its blood wasn't red, either, but an unfortunate inky green that was both viscous and rancid. The monster lied on the floor, not reacting at all as Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu got close. Even when the two were standing right in front of it, it didn't so much as twitch.

Ruan Nanzhu stared in silence for a bit, before sticking a foot out and stepping on its skin. When he saw that it still wasn't reacting, he said, "it's almost dead."

"Mh." Lin Qiushi inspected the monster, watching as its breaths grew weaker and weaker. In the end, the airy rhythm also halted, and it died just like that. That was when Lin Qiushi got out a dining knife. "I'll do it."

"Wait," Ruan Nanzhu said suddenly.

Lin Qiushi looked back. He thought Ruan Nanzhu would say something to stop him, but instead Ruan Nanzhu only pulled a pair of plastic gloves out of his backpack and handed them to Lin Qiushi.

"Put on the gloves. Don't get its liquids on you."

The dark green liquid flowing out of the fish-monster was indeed unpleasant to look at; it was best to avoid physical contact as much as they could, since they didn't know what the consequences would be.

Lin Qiushi nodded, took the gloves, and put them on. Dining knife in hand and half-crouched on the ground, he began cutting off that spike-like thing on the top of the fish-monster's head.

His motions were careful, constantly alert to any movements from the fish-monster, afraid that it would get suddenly violent again before actually dying.

But fortunately, throughout the time it took for Lin Qiushi to remove that spike from the monster's head, it didn't react at all. In fact, it was already dead—though its pair of big yellow eyes remained wide open, there were already no signs of breathing in its body.

Lin Qiushi got up and handed the spike in his hands to Ruan Nanzhu. Then he took the gloves off and tossed them to the side.

It was a long, sharp spike, about half a meter in length. It was very hard, and could easily puncture a hole in a solid plank of wood. Black bloodstains covered the thing, and it was easy to imagine that during the battle, it too must have left quite a number of injuries on the white-eyed monster.

Ruan Nanzhu wrapped the spike up in a plastic bag and very carefully put it in his backpack.

Lin Qiushi said: "The string, the long sword, and the aperitif. It's all ready."

Ruan Nanzhu looked up at the sky and said, "we'll wait until evening then."

Lin Qiushi nodded.

The three of them walked up to the top deck and found a place to sit and chat. The rest of the people were still traversing the cabin, searching for clues to the door and key.

"This door seems kind of easy," Gu Longming said.

"How was it easy?" Ruan Nanzhu replied tepidly. "If Linlin hadn't found the clue about the insects, we'd likely still be completely turned around right now."

Toward the insect-covered NPC, everybody's instinctive reactions would be to avoid him, not knowing that he was actually the key to getting out.

"True." Gu Longming scratched his head. "You're both amazing."

Ruan Nanzhu asked, "what's your real name?"

At Ruan Nanzhu's question, Gu Longming first startled, and then looked giddy. He knew what it meant that Ruan Nanzhu was asking for his real name—that Ruan Nanzhu was agreeing to let him join Obsidian. Someone stronger that Lin Qiushi…Gu Longming laughed, and told them his real name:

"My real name is Ye Niao."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded his understanding.

"Once we get out of this door, I'll go and find you."

"You know where I live?" Gu Longming asked peculiarly.

"Of course I do," Ruan Nanzhu said. "I wouldn't have let my Linlin cross doors with you otherwise."

Not only did he know where Gu Longming lived, but he also knew Gu Longming's real name. These questions of his were only to test Gu Longming's sincerity.

Gu Longming: "…" He really didn't know what to say at the moment.

Due to everything that happened in the past few days, the number of people who gathered to eat in the dining room once again decreased; there was only a scattered few sitting at the table.

These people sat in the dining room scantly eating, but the atmosphere was at least fairly cordial.

Ruan Nanzhu's group didn't eat any fish, of course. What Lin Qiushi couldn't understand was that the others didn't seem to be as repulsed by the fish as they once were. The guy who'd been seasick, even, had a couple of bites of fish today.

"You don't think it's gross?" Gu Longming couldn't help but ask the person sitting beside him.

"I don't think it's as gross as I imagined." For the past few days, Shen Juexin had been throwing up an inhuman amount, but he seemed in better shape today. His face, at least, was no longer wax-yellow. He said, "Ooh…I think I feel much better now."

Lin Qiushi said, "it's better if you stop eating. The fish doesn't look fresh at all."

Shen Juexin scratched his head: "It's fine, isn't it?"

Then he took another bite with no sign of disgust.

Watching Shen Juexin's motions, Lin Qiushi felt conflicted. He'd tasted the fish before, and it really was disgusting—and he could still smell the same fishy stench, so he imagined the taste hadn't changed. He just didn't know why Shen Juexin now thought the fish before him was fine…

Just as Lin Qiushi was contemplating this, he saw Ruan Nanzhu pick up some chopsticks—then Ruan Nanzhu too had gotten a bite of the fish and set it in his mouth.

"Zhu Meng?!" Lin Qiushi was startled by Ruan Nanzhu's actions. He didn't think Ruan Nanzhu too would taste the fish.

After swallowing it, Ruan Nanzhu's brows furrowed.

"…It really isn't bad anymore."

"Isn't bad?" Lin Qiushi felt that something was off. After he heard this, he too gave it a try, and made sure that the fish meat still had no other flavors but that gamy rot. "But it's still bad…Hang on…"

He looked at Ruan Nanzhu, eyes filled with disbelief.

"Unless the aperitif is random?"

Ruan Nanzhu was silent, his chopsticks poking at the fish on his plate.

There were still eleven people alive, and seven of them were seated in the dining room. Not counting Ruan Nanzhu, there were at least three of the seven sitting with chopsticks in hand, feasting on the fish. And judging from their expressions, it wasn't a hardship at all; in fact the fish looked to be delicious.

Lin Qiushi had a bad feeling about this. He said: "Zhu Meng, don't eat anymore. Let's go back to our room."

But Ruan Nanzhu didn't move. His eyes were downcast, gaze falling on the fish in front of him, as if it held some immense power of attraction that made it so he couldn't easily set it down.

His behavior sent chills down Lin Qiushi's spine. Lin Qiushi shot Gu Longming a look, and Gu Longming understood without speaking, taking one of Ruan Nanzhu's arms with Lin Qiushi on the other side and pulling him by force out of the dining room.

And then the three found a random room. Once inside, Lin Qiushi pulled the bedsheets off in a rush and tied Ruan Nanzhu firmly to a chair.

Luckily, as Lin Qiushi did all this, Ruan Nanzhu's behavior stayed calm. The most he did was bunch up that pretty brow of his and ask, "what are you tying me up for?"

Very calmly, Lin Qiushi replied: "I'm scared that you'll eat the fish."

Ruan Nanzhu didn't say anymore. He cocked his head, agitation appearing amidst his expression as if he too didn't really understand why he now liked eating fish. Lin Qiushi thought he'd say something about it but in the end, he didn't, only saying, "alright then."

It seemed that this door had been too easy—so easy that they'd let down their guards. Lin Qiushi told Gu Longming to bring Ruan Nanzhu out into the hallway to prevent being carried away by the changing rooms. As for himself, he returned to the dining room, and discovered that pretty much everybody inside had started eating the fish in their plates.

What had originally been bland and faintly rotted fish meat were now, in their eyes, some kind of rare delicacy; they feasted with their heads buried, completely unaware of Lin Qiushi's arrival.

Lin Qiushi took one look before taking off. When he got to the top deck, he saw Xiao Mo from before crouched by herself in a corner, her face pale. When she saw him coming she met his eyes with a panicked gaze.

"What happened?" Lin Qiushi asked her.

"The kitchen…" Xiao Mo spoke up, her voice faint. "Something's happened…the kitchen…"

"What?" Lin Qiushi said. "What happened?"

"It's like they'd all gone crazy." Xiao Mo kept her distance from Lin Qiushi, like she was scared of being close to anybody right now. "They're eating the fish. They're all eating the fish like they're crazy."

Though it was just a few sentences, Lin Qiushi still understood the full meaning of Xiao Mo's words. He nodded and said: "Alright, I understand. Take care of yourself."

Xiao Mo: "Are…are you going over there?"

Lin Qiushi: "Mhm. I'm going to go take a look."

Xiao Mo didn't say anything more.

Lin Qiushi turned and headed for the kitchen beside the dining room. The kitchen's position was also fixed, and the thick fishy stink could be smelled before even getting there.

Lin Qiushi's feet stopped at the kitchen doorway, and he didn't go inside. From there he heard an odd chewing sound coming from within. Through the window, he saw the horrifying scene.

Several people were squatting on the ground with their faces buried in a giant fish. The fish hadn't been cooked in any way, and appeared a faint, dead white; red veins could still be seen among the flesh. But the three people inside didn't seem to care at all, putting their whole faces practically inside the meat. Their expressions of fulfillment could faintly be seen, as if the fish in front of them was some truly delicious food.

Lin Qiushi could take a lot, but even he felt a wave of nausea at a sight like this.

He took a deep breath and steadied his mind before stepping into the kitchen and calling out: "Are you guys alright?" He wanted to see if these people were still conscious.

But the reality before him doused his hopes. It was like the people in front of him hadn't heard him at all, their attentions staying rapt on the fish meat. None of them even looked up. It was obvious they had already deviated far from the norm.

Seeing such a scene, something immediately came to Lin Qiushi's mind, and he turned and left. He was worried about Ruan Nanzhu, worried that these same changes would take place on Ruan Nanzhu's body.

After Lin Qiushi left, Gu Longming had brought Ruan Nanzhu outside into the hallway with the chair. The hallways didn't change, and so when Lin Qiushi came back, he saw Ruan Nanzhu still sitting in the seat. Only, Ruan Nanzhu's expression wasn't looking so good.

"Zhu Meng," Lin Qiushi called to him. "Hang in there. You'll be fine after tonight."

"But I'm really hungry." Ruan Nanzhu hung his head, and a tendril of hair curled at his cheek, making him look both weak and fragile with a pitiful air that was hard to refuse. He was biting his lips, and there was a watery light flickering in his eyes. "Linlin, I want to eat something."

Lin Qiushi got food out of his bag in a hurry, but when he put it to Ruan Nanzhu's mouth, Ruan Nanzhu just pressed his lips together.

"No. I don't want to eat that."

"Then what do you want to eat?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"I want to eat fish," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Let me have some, please?"

He looked up slightly, gazing at Lin Qiushi with wanting eyes.

To tell the truth, had it been anything else, Lin Qiushi would likely have caved immediately when faced with a Ruan Nanzhu like this. But in this situation, he had no choice but to steel himself and say, "no."

Ruan Nanzhu's pitiful expression disappeared in an instant, his eyes going icy and his voice going just as terrifyingly cold: "Lin Qiushi, do you know what you're doing?"

This was the Ruan Nanzhu from outside the door: impervious and haughty, like a god looking down upon ants.

"I do." But Lin Qiushi was unmoved. He reached out and lifted Ruan Nanzhu's head by the chin, enunciating each and every word: "I know exactly what I'm doing. You want to eat fish? Don't even think about."

Ruan Nanzhu glared at Lin Qiushi's eyes like he was trying to find the slightest bit of wavering in Lin Qiushi's gaze. But evidently, he failed, voice softening again: "Linlin, Linlin, but I really really want to eat fish…"

His attitude went back and forth like so, but Lin Qiushi stayed steely and completely unmoved.

Watching from the sidelines, Gu Longming was impressed as well. He said, "Damn Linlin, you can withstand all that?"

Lin Qiushi: "What am I meant to do if I can't? Let him go eat the fish?"

He told Gu Longming what happened in the dining room and kitchen, and afterwards, Gu Longming scrunched up his face.

"Why this sudden development…" He seemed to think of something. "Could it be some kind of acceleration effect after the yellow-eyed fishman's death?"

"I don't know." Lin Qiushi glanced at the time—there were still four hours until evening. They had to make it through these four hours.

He could practically see the shadow of the people gobbling up fish meat on Ruan Nanzhu. Lin Qiushi roughly calculated that there were no more than four people still normal on the entire ship; everybody else seemed to have been possessed.

No matter how much Ruan Nanzhu threatened or tempted, Lin Qiushi acted like he couldn't hear a thing. In the end Ruan Nanzhu seemed a bit tired and stopped talking altogether, sitting in the chair in silence.

So Lin Qiushi began preparing for the task that night.

The entire ship was currently full of the aperitif. The long sword was in his hands, and the string had also appeared; he was just like a knight about to enter the labyrinth to rescue the princess—though it seemed the current case was that he'd tied his princess to a chair with his own two hands.

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu's condition, Gu Longming sighed and scratched his head.

"That's just really weird. You and I have both tasted the fish before, so why is Zhu Meng the one affected?"

Lin Qiushi indicated that he also didn't know.

There must be some hidden condition—maybe only those who hadn't tasted the fish were affected. But it was all only speculation for now, and the answer to their speculations wasn't important. The important thing was that they finished this door as quickly as possible. Lin Qiushi couldn't keep Ruan Nanzhu tied up forever, after all.

It was the first time he so anticipated an evening. Once he saw the sky gradually darken, Lin Qiushi and Gu Longming moved the tied-up Ruan Nanzhu back inside a room, chair and all.

Ruan Nanzhu still wasn't speaking. Lin Qiushi understood him, however, and could tell from his eyes that Ruan Nanzhu still hadn't given up.

"Linlin," Ruan Nanzhu suddenly spoke.

Lin Qiushi glanced at him.

"Linlin, are you going off to defeat him alone?" Ruan Nanzhu said. "I'm worried about you going on your own. Won't you let me go with you please?"

"No," Lin Qiushi said. "See? You're lying to me again."

Ruan Nanzhu kept up the righteous tone, saying: "I'm not lying. When you go fight, I'll be behind you watching your back."

Listening to the way Ruan Nanzhu spoke, Lin Qiushi thought he ought to be angry, but couldn't help a laugh instead: "Watch my back? You mean while I kill the monster up front, you'll be behind me eating fish?"

Ruan Nanzhu peeked once at Lin Qiushi, and said nothing more.

"Does the fish taste that good?" Lin Qiushi asked him.

Ruan Nanzhu pouted, still silent.

"Does it taste better than me?" Lin Qiushi asked some more.

"Of course you taste better," Ruan Nanzhu mumbled. At the present, his whole manner was off. It was like he was a little kid. "But I'm just too hungry right now, and I can't eat you, I'd be too sad."

Lin Qiushi laughed.

Beside them, Gu Longming could only eat up the dog food in silence, thinking aah, they can't do that, shit's already hit the fan and they still have to flaunt this flood of love.

Lin Qiushi watched the dimming sky outside and inwardly counted themselves lucky that he and Gu Longming were still normal. Otherwise, this door would've been a real problem.

By the time it got dark, Ruan Nanzhu was a lot quieter, staring peacefully out the window. Lin Qiushi initially thought that after he got some rest, he'd pester them to eat fish some more—but then he fell asleep.

"Should we put him on the bed?" Gu Longming asked Lin Qiushi quietly. Ruan Nanzhu had been tied up all day, after all.

But after some thought, Lin Qiushi shook his head.

"No. Keep him tied up." He couldn't be sure if Ruan Nanzhu was actually sleeping right now—if the bastard was faking it, then considering his fighting prowess, even Lin Qiushi and Gu Longming together might not be able to keep him down.

Plus it was nearly night. The monster was due to appear, and if Ruan Nanzhu got out, something could easily happen.

"I should still go with you," Gu Longming said, watching Lin Qiushi fetch the long spike from the bags. "We can watch each other's backs."

Lin Qiushi shook his head and rejected Gu Longming's suggestion: "You stay here to watch him. If I can't manage alone, then you being with me won't be much help. Plus, he's not in a good state, someone needs to be guarding him."

Seeing Lin Qiushi's determination, Gu Longming could say nothing more but a wish of good luck.

Lin Qiushi nodded, taking Gu Longming's blessings.

Once the night dimmed, Lin Qiushi kept an ear out for motion outside. Finally, he caught onto a faint sound. It was a sound he'd heard many times already—a large creature moving across wooden floor boards.

Lin Qiushi looked at Gu Longming.

"I'm heading out."

Gu Longming: "Go on, Ge, I'll take good care of my sister-in-law."

Lin Qiushi: "…" Why did that sound so wrong?

Seeing Lin Qiushi's expression, Gu Longming laughed quietly.

"Alright, it was only a joke. And as if there's a sister situation here at all. Godspeed, come back soon.

Lin Qiushi opened the door and headed out. He went to the dining room first.

The dining room was the starting point of the maze. It was also the starting point of the insect string; by following the line of insects from there, he could find the monster.

Lin Qiushi took the long sword and followed the string carefully forward. Following his stride, he quickly began to hear an unpleasant noise. It sounded like a wild beast was gnawing on meat, and the only source of meat on the ship was…

Across the width of the top deck, Lin Qiushi found his target.

It was a giant fish-monster, its body buff and covered in ink-colored scales. Only, compared to yesterday, there were many more wounds on its body. Lin Qiushi naturally knew where these wounds came from. At this moment, all of the fishman's attention was on the chewed up mess of a human body beneath its feet. It didn't seem to have noticed Lin Qiushi carefully approaching from behind.

Lin Qiushi knew this was his only chance, so he was at once cautious and filled with ruthless determination. He took the long horn in hand and slowly lifted it—then he plunged downwards, piercing right through the fishman's neck.

The fishman let out a ghastly screech. Black blood gushed from its body before it collapsed limply onto the ground.

But Lin Qiushi didn't trust that; after the fishman fell he followed up with a bunch more aggressive stabs. Only when he was sure of its complete and total death did he exhale in relief.

He stood where he was, resting for a minute, before using the spike in his hands to split the fishman's stomach open. He endured his disgust as he searched all over, and finally, amidst the wreckage of offal, found what he was looking for—a green bronze key that looked completely normal. Though there was nothing special about the way it looked, in Lin Qiushi's current eyes, there was nothing in this world cuter than this very key.

He picked the key up, put it in his pocket, and left the deck.

[Ch. 124] | [Ch. 126]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒

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lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

Chapter 70: Nico’s journey is coming to an end.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Will and Dionysus come pick him up to go back home.

AO3 - FanFiction.net - KoFi This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 70: San Pellegrino

‘What do you think?’

Lucia, Sofia and Elena looked at their great-grandmother. I was standing in the middle of the room, with my new clothes on.

Gloriana slowly nodded. ‘It’s acceptable.’

There were sighs of relief around me. I snickered. Going clothesshopping made the trip feel more like a vacation except of a heavy trip down memory lane. ‘What more are we going to do?’ I asked.

Elena grabbed my hands. ‘Everything.’

And so we did. We went out to lunch, visited churches and relaxed in parks, but we also went to to the family grave and searched the attic for heirlooms. It was a mix of both that felt just right.

I could have stayed longer, but I wasn’t sad that I didn’t. For a first trip, it was enough. I missed camp, I missed Will, and I even missed Dionysus.

We were sitting in front of the house, waiting for Will to come pick me up. Gabriella sipped her drink. ‘I liked having you around, Nico. I always wondered what it would be like to have a boy.’

Elena gave her mother a look. ‘We aren’t so bad, mom.’

‘Hm. Still.’

Her daughters collectively rolled their eyes. I snickered. ‘I liked it here, too. I am glad I was welcomed by my family after such a long time.’

Sofia sipped her drink. ‘You’re welcome to come celebrate Easter with us. You can bring your friend as well.’

‘I’ll come. I never really had an Easter celebration. In America, they don’t do a lot more than hunt for candy.’

‘In Italy, it is way more important,’ Lucia explained, with stars in her eyes.

Their father snickered. ‘It was quite a culture shock when I moved to Italy and it actually meant something to them.’

His wife and in-laws nodded their heads.

‘I think Nico should come,’ their grandmother, next in line to become the family matriarch, answered. ‘So he can see what it is like.’

I slowly nodded. ‘I already got Italian clothes to wear, that’s something…’

A white taxi rolled around the corner and parked nearby. I veered up from my chair, almost spilling my San Pellegrino.

The taxi door flew open. Will almost bumped his head against the overhead. ‘Nico!’

‘Will!’ He walked towards me, slower than he would want. I hugged him as soon as you was close enough. He squeezed my ribs in return.

‘I missed you.’

‘Mizzed you to,’ I muttered, with my face pressed against his shirt.

He let go and held me at a distance. ‘You’ve got new clothes!’

‘See?’ I heard Gloriana say behind me. ‘I told you all it would be noticeable. He needed some proper clothes.’

I spread my arms, so Will could properly see all of the new things I had gotten. ‘Was this your plan?’ He asked the sisters.

Elena pointed at her grandmother. ‘Her plan, but we showed him what he should wear.’

‘It makes my… friend look very good. Perhaps he should keep wearing them in America,’ he said, while staring a hole into my soul.

I opened my mouth to say something back, but then I saw Dionysus coming out of the taxi. He was in mortal disguise (which meant he looked slightly older, had shorter hair and sunglasses to hide the purple eyes). ‘Wait...’

‘He wouldn’t let me go alone,’ Will whispered. ‘And, eh, neither could I. I needed to teleport and stuff.’

I turned around. ‘That’s my… uncle. Dio,’ I explained.

My eyes trailed off, to Gloriana, who was staring at Dionysus. I had a hunch she already sensed who he was. Yet, she didn’t say anything, not even when Gabriella invited them to have a drink before we left. We could manage before we had to catch our plane, right?

It was more then in time for us to ‘catch our plane’ (Considering there would be no plane). ‘Did he behave?’ Dionysus asked. I figured he really wanted to ask: ‘Did he not get himself almost killed?’

‘Very much,’ Collin answered with a grin, while handing Will a can of San Pellegrino. ‘Do you want an aperitif? It is already four P.M.’

It physically hurt Dionysus to say no, but he managed to do it. Gabriella snickered, sushing that she understood, but of course she didn’t. She couldn’t understand the scope of the thing.

‘He behaved very well,’ Gloriana confirmed. ‘He has to come celebrate Easter with us. My great-granddaughters already invited him.

I looked at Will and Dionysus. They seemed to understand that if the matriarch said I had to come, I better come.

‘Did you not miss him too much?’ Lucia asked Will. He turned a little red.

‘A little,’ he answered, in a tone that meant ‘every day, I was worried he had accidently walked straight to his death.’

‘A little?’ Elena egged him on.

‘... A little more?’

‘More than a little?’ Sofia asked with a grin.

I tutted. ‘Will, these are Lucia, Elena and Sofia. They are usually very kind.’

‘Yes, girls,’ Sofia grinned, ‘Don’t egg him on!’ As if she didn’t do the exact same thing.

‘Thanks,’ Will muttered.

‘He’s just as shy as Nico when he first saw us.’

‘Was Nico shy?’ Will said, jumping off from that.

‘Only a little,’ Sofia told him. ‘After we gave him some orange juice, he was fine.’

I nodded. ‘I was fine, Will, really.’

‘Were you worried?’ Lucia sing-songed.

‘Lucia!’

‘Yes,’ Will answered truthfully, ‘Yes, I was worried. Really worried.’ He looked at me. ‘Yet, I am also very glad that he did this. Because it feels like a step forward. He couldn’t have done this a year ago.’

‘Thanks, Will.’

We talked for another hour or so, realistically way too long if we were supposed to catch a plane, before Dionysus gestured we should get back to the car. The sisters hugged me and told me to call (I gave them Wills’ phone number. That way, they wouldn’t be blowing up poor Pollux’ phone any longer). It was decided I would come back for Easter. I feared Gloriana might haunt me otherwise.

‘Success in America, Nico.’ Gloriana told me. ‘And I don’t know why he came to pick you up’ - she nodded at Dionysus - ‘But it probably had a reason.’

Dionysus looked at her with a little smile, before he got into the taxi.

They waved us goodbye while we drove off. When they were out of sight, Dionysus' eyes lit up. ‘Please, just go help some others,’ he told the taxi driver, before slipping a sum of way more money than the trip could have cost into his pocket (That being said, we did keep him occupied for an hour. Perhaps this was just what they agreed on). Within a second, we disappeared, and I was back in Camp Half-blood.

That night I lit the candle in my rememberance cabinet. I took a deep breath. ‘I went to Italy, mom. I saw what it was like to live there. Your sister was still alive. I liked her a lot, and her decendants are nice, too.’ A tear made it’s way down my cheek, but it wasn’t a sad tear. ‘Of course, I wished you could have seen me in Italy, but this is the closest I could get. I hope you somehow know about it, and that you’re proud of me.’

I hadn’t talked to the shrine before, but right now it felt right to do it. When I looked up at the sky, I felt calm inside, as if something that should have happened ages ago finally happened. As if something in the universe changed, making it right again.

Will looked around the corner of my cabin. ‘Are you coming in?’

‘I am happy, Will.’

I could hear him smile as he sat down in the grass next to it. ‘I can feel it.’ He gave me a kiss on my forehead.

‘I know for sure now that I’ll be better, some day.’

‘You are already the very best to me.’

A/N: I apologize profoundly if they don’t actually drink San Pellegrino in Italy.

One more chapter after this - unless I can't stop myself

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luna-almighty-god · 4 years

Text

Comfort a Little Dream N°8 [I don't know what I like better between suffering and dying.]

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Careful, there are explicit scenes in this story (violence) !Have a good read!

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

Underlust was not the most pleasant place to live, Dream had always known that. The signs were multiple: a lot of negativity came from this world, and the dreams of the inhabitants were ... hard to watch. Very hard to look at. The young caretaker had already found himself giving dreams that he himself didn't want to describe, so ashamed of what he had created. But he had continued to give birth to dreams that he hated, simply because it made other people happy. People who perhaps didn't deserve to be happy after all...

He shook his head. No, he couldn't think like that. Everyone deserved to be happy. Didn't they? What was he supposed to think now... ? Now that he'd faced the harsh reality? He didn't know. He didn't want to know anymore. He didn't want to go back into anyone's dreams for a while, let alone the dreams of the Undertlust.

And Underlust was worse than he imagined. Ink had warned him several times, telling him not to go there physically because it could go wrong, and Dream had obeyed him without hesitation, believing that he didn't need to set foot there anyway, that going into dreams was more than enough.

Yeah, he should have settled for dreams...

The streets were crowded, full of monsters laughing loudly, jostling without deigning to apologize, reeking of alcohol, cigarettes and drugs. All this mixed together gave a certain headache to the poor Dream who could barely keep up with the march, looking for Dust, Horror or Nightmare eyes, for fear of getting lost in this oppressive crowd.

But he couldn't see them anymore. Panic gripped him as he turned his head in all directions, not understanding how he had lost them so quickly. He tried to concentrate on their magic, but was lost when he was hit again. He grimaced as the pain in his arm woke up, only intensifying his anguish a little more, and he thought he was cracking when a wandering hand slipped across his buttocks.

But this hand did not remain for long: its owner screamed in terror, collapsing to the ground groaning in pain, holding his arm, which had just been broken at a perfectly abnormal angle. Dream held his breath, frightened ... before feeling a familiar hand grasping his arm. He turned to his brother who had joined him and shot the wounded monster with his eyes:

"Don't walk away from me. »

He pulled him into the crowd, managing to pull them out of there and into a quieter alley where Dust and Horror were waiting for them. Nightmare stopped, turned to Dream and examined it carefully, afraid that something worse than the wandering hand might have happened to him.

“Are you gonna be okay, Dream?” Horror asked softly.

The man nodded feverishly, but he was clearly not well in this world of debauchery. Nightmare gave Dust a look, a hesitant look that was understood as 'I don't know what to do, help me'. Dust in turn approached Dream and gently put a hand on his head, gently caressing him with a comforting smile:

“Don't worry, the rest of the night's gonna be a lot different.”

He took him by the hand and led him to a rather remote house, far from the bustle of the city. Nightmare held back a grunt: he wanted Dust to help him, but he wasn't sure he appreciated the strange closeness between him and his brother.

Horror was the first to knock at the house, a huge smile appearing on his face as hurried footsteps were heard inside the house. Dream was surprised, looking with curiosity at the cannibal's attitude, feeling the joy and excitement that was climbing inside him at a crazy speed...

Until the door opens, making it reach the climax.

Lust threw him out of the house, right into the arms of Horror, knocking him over and collapsing in the snow, before the astonished eyes of Dream.

A great burst of laughter resounded, a soft, crystalline laugh. Lust stood up, radiant with joy, on all fours over Horror that he was devouring with his eyes:

“Hello, darling, you're late!”

Horror's smile grew much bigger and he rose abruptly, taking the purple skeleton in his arms and spinning it while holding it close to him:

"Plum! I missed you! »

The concerned one laughed again and came to kiss him passionately.

Dream widened his eyes. He looked at Dust yawning, obviously used to such a spectacle, before turning to Nightmare who looked away with some uneasiness, then he returned to Horror and Lust who were finishing kissing.

“Y ... You're... ?” he stammered shyly, not knowing what to say.

Plum turned to him and opened his eyes wide:

“Dream?! Wow, I didn't recognize you!”

But his face suddenly became much more worried. Confusedly, he looked at the bad guys:

“Um... Wait, I didn't know anything... You took it off again? I told you I wasn't part of your plan anymore!

- We didn't kidnap him, Horror replied. There was... some trouble.

- Worries that don't concern you.” cut Nightmare cold before going into the house.

Lust raised an eyebrow, looked again at Dream who had come to cower behind Dust, trembling. The fragility of the guardian of dreams struck him immediately, gripping his soul more than usual. He approached him gently and approached with a tender smile:

“I hope these fools don't treat you too badly... Anyway you're welcome in my house!”

Dream hesitated for a little while before finally moving away from Dust, to give a feverish smile back to Plum who was even nicer than he remembered. Eventually they all entered the house and the caretaker felt much more at ease.

This house had nothing to do with the outside, not even with his brother's castle. It was a place with a pleasant smell of flowers and warm colours. The floor was heated, an aperitif was placed on the coffee table in front of the TV and the same TV was broadcasting the music videos of the multiverse in the background.

Dream let out a sigh of comfort, relaxing completely in this quiet atmosphere. He shivered, however, when Dust put a hand on his shoulder:

“Will you come and sit down?”

He gently nodded his head and let the taller one lead him to the couch where they both settled down, while Nightmare settled into a recessed chair and Horror and Lust went into the kitchen.

Dream immediately riveted his eyes on the television screen, afraid to meet his brother's gaze. But his brother was getting heavy on the feverish shoulders of the little dream. An intense look, too intense, which did not leave him, which analysed him, which gave him an unpleasant burning sensation.

No, Dream didn't understand this sudden interest in his person, this special attention his brother had been paying to him since his death.... crisis. No, he didn't understand how the prince of nightmares could suddenly change his attitude, trying to protect him from other dangers. In the end, however, it was not so surprising: Nightmare was possessive. Perhaps he wanted to protect Dream only because he aspired to kill it with his own hands?

But in this case, why didn't he do it before? Out of pity, guilt? What a vulgar joke, the prince of nightmares helping the keeper of good feelings...

But what good feelings, when he himself could no longer feel them?

Dust's hand made him jump again. He turned away from his thoughts and turned to his neighbour, who covered him with a serious look. Much too serious. As if he could guess his deepest thoughts.

Dream shivered, wanted to get away from him but held back. He restrained himself when his comrade offered him a drink, gave him a very slight smile. He swallowed his saliva, not understanding why this smile had such an effect on him, such a warm feeling in his stomach.

He accepted the glass feverishly, didn't ask himself the slightest question as he slowly took a sip.

The taste of alcohol made him tense. He didn't like it. He hated it. The bitter taste, too bitter, too strong, that made his head spin in a very unpleasant way. He usually avoided it as much as possible, but tonight ... tonight he allowed himself another sip, then a third.

He let the liquid drain down his throat, gently burning it from the inside.

But the suffering was so minimal compared to what was being inflicted on him up to that point... So minimal that it almost became a pleasure. As if the spirit of the little dream was mocking, taking down this suffering that wasn't really a suffering, as if it sneered, "Ahah, I've been through worse, you can't have me!"

Taken by a desire to defy this pain, to take his limits from above, he finished his glass in one last sip, to return the container to Dust with a look that meant "I want some more".

Dust gauged him for a moment with his eyes before his smile grew larger. He served his young comrade again with great pleasure, ignoring the threatening look that Nightmare had on his face.

Dream's mind quickly fogged up. He was no longer really aware of what was going on around him, only vaguely understood that Horror and Lust had come back into the living room and were chatting with Dust, exchanging words that the caretaker didn't understand, laughing at times without when Dream was fully certain.

The guardian of good emotions simply let himself go in the couch, savouring his third glass of this alcohol which he didn't have the name of, but which seemed to do him good with each sip.

When he had finished that third glass, he felt as if he was floating, as if he had become lighter. He held his glass out in front of him, towards the silhouette he recognized as Dust. He liked Dust. Dust was nice, very nice... The proof was that Dust poured him a fourth time, and it was with an uncontrolled laugh that Dream drank his new drink.

Nightmare frowned:

“Dust, don't tighten it any more.”

But his subordinate ignored him to serve a fifth glass. The negative prince's tentacles became nervously agitated as their owner tensed up a little more, not appreciating the glow he perceived in Dust's eyes. A gleam of anger and defiance, as if the other was trying to push him over the edge.

“Dream has the right to have as much fun as we do.” Dust simply replied.

But that wasn't what Nightmare was thinking, Nightmare knew that. He knew his subordinate: even he wasn't vicious enough to dare to get someone drunk against his will.

“Do you think he's having fun? replied the master. He's on the brink, and you're pushing him further into it by serving him like this!

- So what does it matter to you? Yet it was you who sought to destroy it.”

Nightmare froze, as did Horror and Lust. The latter two hadn't said a word when they noticed the tension between their two comrades, and Dust's last line had ended the atmosphere.

Nightmare's appendages got a little more agitated.

“Yes, I was trying to destroy it.

- You're the one who pushed him over the edge.”

Another slap in the face for the prince of nightmares who was becoming increasingly confused and annoyed by his henchman's attitude. What exactly was Dust looking for? He wanted to make him regret it, to make him face his mistakes when he KNEW that Nightmare was already prey to deep guilt, hatred and anger towards himself? And what was the point of making Dream drink? Was it to preserve the young guardian, that he didn't become aware of their brutal exchange?

Even if they did, Nightmare couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Dram drink knowing that his brother hated it. Knowing that his brother would probably feel much worse the next day, when he would wake up with an unbearable hangover and a deep regret for having let himself go.

Because Dream didn't like to let go. He had never been taught to relax, to let go, to think about himself and not about his responsibilities.

“I'm taking him back.” Nightmare coldly let go of Nightmare as he stood up, retrieving his twin who could barely keep his eyes open, completely exhausted from the alcohol that had drained what little energy he had.

Dust remained silent, reluctant to start a fight which he was sure to lose in a home that was not his own, at the risk of further hurting the little dream that was drowsing.

*** ***

Nightmare appeared in his room in a snap. If the return trip had been without the slightest problem, the arrival in his home changed his brother's behaviour: Dream began to gesticulate vehemently, trying to escape the tentacles that held him firmly while moaning plainly.

“Stop it.” Weighed the master of the house, who certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with a whim, as he tried to undress his brother to put him to bed.

Dream wiggled more beautifully, emitting nothing but squeaks and semblance of incomprehensible sentences. His eyes veiled by alcohol didn't even seem to distinguish where he was or with whom, but it was clear that he didn't appreciate being deprived of his movements.

Nightmare sighed again, realizing that he would achieve nothing with this method. He decided to drop his twin - more or less gently - on the bed, before the twin whimpered and rolled into a ball in the blanket. The prince of nightmares raised a perplexed eyebrow, tidying his tentacles to approach the bed:

“Dream?”

Another squeak. This time, the master of the house had a twinge in his heart, especially when he saw his brother trembling under the duvet. He was terrified. Terrified of Nightmare's presence, even if he didn't do anything to him.

The prince of negativity came and sat down gently on the bed, put a hand on his brother's back and guessed his brother through the duvet:

“Dream, you need to get into your pajamas. You can't sleep like that.”

A short silence during which Nightmare slowly rubbed the back of his cadet, in a timid attempt to calm him down. Finally, Dream took out his face, casting a misty look at his brother, before simply pulling himself out of the blanket to find himself sitting on the mattress as well. Seeing that he wasn't making any more gestures, the owner went back to his original goal, which was to undress his brother.

He removed the purple jacket gently but did not hesitate to throw it to the ground without the slightest respect. The sight of these clothes disgusted him, even more so when they were worn by his brother. These clothes... These clothes reminded him of too many memories, too many things that were long gone, too bitter things that he preferred to forget. To tell the truth, he didn't even know why he had kept them, let alone why he had left them to Dream.

He held back a growl, not wishing to frighten his younger brother again, who had closed his eyes, just about to fall asleep. He let his phalanges run over the blue shirt, removing one by one each button before removing it fully, to send him to join the jacket.

And Nightmare froze.

Oh, he'd already had a chance to see his brother's body. Many, many times. He had seen him a few days before, when he was treating him and changing his bandages. Yet tonight, in the faint moonlight, the body seemed even more fragile than before, as if his brother's bones had become porcelain, glass that could be broken by a touch. The wounds were not healing well, the bruises did not go away, and Nightmare cursed herself. Oh, yes, he cursed himself for being the cause of most of his wounds.

It was an automatism, a reflex, to slide his fingers over an old, very old scar on one of his ribs. A gesture that sent a shiver down the spine of the guardian of dreams, making him open his eyes in surprise.

“N-Night...?”

First understandable word from Dream. First word that froze Nightmare, the petrifying stupor. 'Night'...., the nickname given to him by his childhood brother. The nickname was full of love, which showed their complicity. That nickname...

“...how can you still call me that...?” the corrupt being whispered, his voice trembling without him noticing.

His gaze still wandered through the wounded body, as he felt a horrifying desire to cry taking hold of his soul. His phalanges rested on his brother's hips, with a delicacy that he did not know himself.

“... Dream.... I'm sorry…”

A sob escaped him in spite of himself:

“I'm so sorry…”

He clenched his teeth, closing his eye to keep his tears from coming out. His forehead came to rest against his brother's bare shoulder. He tightened his grip on his little body, slipped his hands behind his back to hold him tight, to feel the little golden soul beat weakly.

“...you should never have had to go through all this, ....you didn't deserve this....!”

What a prick he'd been, what a fucking prick he'd been! A jerk, the worst brother, the worst monster of the multiverse! Nightmare would've probably continued to insult each other for a long time, would've probably hurt his physical integrity... if Dream hadn't stopped him, hadn't hugged him.

The master of the house opened his eyes. His twin responded to his embrace as forcefully as he could, but not without violent tremors:

“... N-Night.... Don’t cry Night.....”

This wave of kindness, this attention that Dream paid to him, had the gift of striking a fatal blow to the master of nightmares who melted into tears, burying his face in his neck. In this strange clear darkness, Dream and Nightmare mingled with cruel sadness.

*** ***

Nightmare hadn't noticed he'd fallen asleep. Perhaps his anguish towards his brother had exhausted him far more than he had let on, pushing him to fall asleep with his twin, keeping him close to him while he plunged into a sleep devoid of dreams and nightmares, not even allowing him to do his job as a guardian.

No, he had not noticed how tired he was, how his mind had finally lost itself in the meanders of unconsciousness. He had not noticed anything ... until a scream woke him up, roughly dragged him out of his sleep and brought him back to reality.

He opened his eyes, his senses on the lookout, without making the slightest movement, while he felt his appendages vibrating in his back, ready to attack the slightest enemy. But they calmed in the moment when, from the corner of his eye, Nightmare saw his brother.

Dream had once again sat down, went through intense spasms as he grabbed his skull, unconsciously scratching himself, his eyes wide open in terror, and the ghastly breath. This vision petrified the nightmare master, who only had the presence of mind to act when his brother let go of his skull to make his soul appear.

Nightmare knew immediately that he had to intervene.

His tentacles spun towards his brother, grabbed his wrists suddenly, forcing him to release the little golden soul.

“LET GO OF ME!”

Dream's scream made him shudder, but he didn't let go. He didn't understand what he was taking from his brother: had he had a nightmare?

“GET OFF ME NOW! DON'T! FUCKING NIGHTMARE !”

The master of the place hiccupped, destabilized by the sudden wave of negativity he perceived, which almost made him bend.

“Dream, calm down, it was only a...! - I HAVE TO DESTROY IT! NOW!”

Dream violently bit a tentacle, surprising his twin who slightly loosened his grip under the pain. The guardian of dreams used this opening to struggle, reaching out his hand towards his soul, which he grasped without the slightest delicacy, pushing his phalanges into it, ignoring the wave of suffering that turned his stomach. His desperate voice rose again:

“I MUST DESTROY IT! OR ELSE... BREAK....! EVERYBODY GO....!”

He squeezed harder, breathing faster and faster, much too fast, caught in a painful coughing fit when a cracking sounded, a slight crack formed on the golden surface.

Nightmare slammed him violently against the bed, making him yelp with surprise, before his tentacle almost broke his wrist, forcing him to let go of the little battered soul. The Prince of Darkness threw himself upon the poor inverted heart, brought it back against him in panic, looking with horror at his brother screaming for death and continuing to struggle :

“DESTROY IT! DESTROY IT! - - Dr.... - LET ME DIE!”

Nightmare was seized with a cold sweat as he became livid. His own soul seemed to crack at the vision. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. Just stand there, helpless, watching his twin struggling like a demented being, a being who had lost all consciousness. And in his trembling palm he felt the little golden soul palpitating, struggling against negativity. The negativity that he thought he was dealing with but which was coming back even stronger to devour his brother.

The black apples were trying to corrupt the guardian of good emotions.

Nightmare hardly swallowed his saliva. Never before had he felt so feverish, so helpless in the face of a situation.

Tenderly he began to pamper the little soul, to make little circles with his thumb to caress it, to calm it, to limit and suck up some of this parasitic darkness. His own magic began to work, trying to attract negativity towards him. But ....it was far too strong, even for him.

Nightmare felt faint. He felt himself faltering as the hours rolled by with a slowness he could not have described. He felt himself faltering as, little by little, the cries subsided, the blows too. He did not allow himself a break until he was sure that Dream would no longer touch his life. That the moment he saw his sweet twin fall once again into the arms of Morpheus.

And Nightmare fell apart.

His body shattered against the icy ground.

The irregular breathing, much too fast for a living being, seemed to crush him from the inside. His magic crackled, crackled in an unpleasant way, as if to lecture him, to tell him that he was going too far, that he could not afford to do more.

He grunted, got up painfully, keeping the little golden soul in his hand.

He dragged himself to the door, went out into the corridor, slid against the wall and watched the darkness in silence. Then he looked at his brother's frail soul. He shuddered: the soul trembled, as if frightened. Scared ... ...of him. By his aura. By his presence. By his whole being.

The little golden soul needed him to counter the negativity, but was paradoxically terrified of him.

How ironic. But he couldn't afford to give it to Dream. After the way he had tried to take his own life...

He closed his eyes, glued his skull against the cool wall, sighed.

He had to trust that soul to someone who could protect it. Someone who would take care of it and be available to Nightmare at any time.

Oh... he already had the perfect candidate in mind. A candidate he trusted completely, even though Dream might not like it.

Yes ...

[ He was going to entrust the soul to Cross ]

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Dreamtale -> Joku

Shattered Dream -> ErroredArtist’s

Cross -> Jakei

Error -> Lover The Piggies

Ink -> Comyet / Myebi

Dust -> Ask DustTale

Killer -> Rahafwabas

Color -> Superyoumma

Sugar Plum -> undertale Community (formerly NSFWShamecave ?)

#Hurt / Comfort #comfort a little dream #dream #dreamtale #nightmare #bad sanses #sugar plum #horror #dust #undertale #fanfiction

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hildagirl99 · 4 years

Text

The lovers of the night

Scarlett and Aaron

(part 3)

2 weeks go by, Aaron and Scarlett always saw each other in the evening, during the day, they gave each other almost ambiguous accomplice looks. They talked about everything and nothing, getting to know each other a little more, even though Scarlett remained mostly silent, preferring to listen to the Sheriff. Tonight, there was a good opportunity to meet again, the rodeo party, it is certainly not a very romantic place to declare his flame but they should not miss this opportunity.

"Tonight ?" she asks, surprised.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"But will there be people?"

"It's the principle of the holidays, inviting people."

"Oh ... I don't like the crowd ..."

"Don't worry, we will step aside, we will be quiet."

"Well ... I'll think about it."

"I really hope to see you tonight, Scarlett."

When evening came, Aaron was already there, 3 guards stood in front of the entrance, inside, it was crowded, alcohol and cigars smelled like noses.

Scarlett was still at home, not knowing what to wear for her date. Half of her wardrobe was mostly black. Did she have to dress in a simple way? Extravagant? If she put on lace, the Sheriff would take her for an easy girl, well what she doesn't want. She finally opted for a dress with a small black neckline, decorated with small diamonds. Watching her hair in battle, she decides to style and curl it, leaving her long curly lock in front of her eyes.

"It should be enough ... Come on ... I can do it." she thinks.

She puts on her black shawl and heads for the saloon.

"As long as she comes ..." thinks Aaron, in front of his small glass of whiskey, until he hears the guards' voices becoming imposing.

"You can't go back!"

"What? But it's not free to enter?" asks Scarlett, shocked.

"No, but to go back, it's 20 dollars!" asked the guard.

"Stop, I invited her!" said Aaron, arriving in time between the two guards.

"Sorry Sheriff, we didn't know that." said one of the two guards, embarrassed.

"Scarlett, come on, I've been waiting for you." said Aaron, holding out his arm.

She grabs his arm without hesitation and lets herself be dragged to the bar.

"I thought I couldn't go back. I didn't know it paid off." she said softly.

"I should have warned you, forgive me, but as I invite you, we have free rein." he said, looking at her.

"Fortunately you are Sheriff otherwise ... I will not have passed."

"Hehe, come on, come and have a drink."

"Since time. But I have no money ..."

"I'm the one paying, since I invited you." said Aaron with a charming smile.

While they were drinking, Aaron watched Scarlett from top to bottom.

"You're beautiful tonight, Scarlett ..." said Aaron, shyly.

"Oh… thanks… does that mean that on other days, I look like a rag?" she asks, suspicious.

"Huh? No, no, take it as a compliment! I'm sincere, now or on other days, you're ravishing."

"You have to say that to all the women you know."

"I'm not interested in other women, you mean the most to me tonight." he said, placing his hand gently against her shoulder.

Scarlett feels a shiver run down her back. Why was he doing this for her? She flees her gaze, not knowing what to do or how to react. In the distance, three women, provocatively dressed, call the Sheriff in the distance, then they start to walk towards him.

"Looks like you have company." whispers Scarlett to Aaron.

"Ooh dear Sheriff! You here? We weren't expecting it!" said one of them.

"Stay a little with you!" begs the other, resting her chest against him.

Aaron looked very embarrassed and couldn't help but blush.

"I would like to, but I'm already busy, ladies, but can you do us a favor?"

"Oooh? Which one?"

"Try to distract the guards, a little bit of your company would do them good." said Aaron, praying that it would work.

"Your desires are orders, Sheriff! Hihi! Come girls!" said one of them, jumping on the guards.

"Come on, Scarlett! Let's go outside!" said Aaron, taking her hand.

It was a diversion, the two of them rush out and sit at a table outside in the light of the lanterns.

"But why did you do this?" she asks, exhausted from this race.

"I didn't want to be locked up in this place with her crazy people… I saw that you were embarrassed. Outside, it's better, just you and me."

"Hehe, you're right, I was starting to suffocate, I don't like the crowd."

"I know it ... are you hungry?" he asks.

"Not too much ... Maybe a few aperitifs." she replies, touching her hair.

Once the aperitifs are there, Scarlett asks a question that was running through her head.

"Tell me ... Do you like what you do? Well, I mean, as a Sheriff." she asks.

"You know, being Sheriff was not a vocation for me." he replies, taking a square of cheese.

"What do you mean ?" Scarlett was starting to be interested.

"Since childhood, I had a dream, to go around South America. But I was brought back to reality by my father. I was very close to him, but the only one I did not like at his place was his authority and his arrogance. He himself was Sheriff before my turn, I had to be ready to succeed him because he was getting old. He said that traveling was for the gypsies and the Indians. instead, I saw the sea, as I told you before. The sea was my only comfort, I found peace. "

"It must be wonderful ..." sighs Scarlett, listening to him attentively.

"I will take you there, I promise you." he said, looking her in her eyes.

"You don't have to do this for me, there are other women who would dream of seeing the sea with you."

"You are the only woman I would like to take." he said, putting his fingers on Scarlett's hand.

She withdraws her hand a little, blushing.

"Why are you interested in me? I'm boring, and other women are better than me, they deserve you. One day, you will have to find a woman to be your wife."

Hearing this, Aaron wondered if it was the right time to tell him what he really felt for her. Suddenly, soft music cuts him off before a sound even comes out of his mouth. A slow… nothing better to get closer to the one who won his heart.

"Would you like to dance ?" he asks.

"I don't know how to dance ..." she replies, closing in on herself.

"Come, it's easy." he said, taking her hand.

They stand up and put his hands on her back.

"What are you doing ?" Scarlett jumps.

"Put your hands on my shoulders."

But being small, her hands land on Aaron's chest. Which makes him blush more and more.

"Let yourself be lulled and guided by me and the music." he whispers in her ear.

Scarlett was mesmerized by her words and her reassuring voice. She lets herself be entirely done. She sticks against him, Aaron felt like immense happiness in his heart and thousands of butterflies in his belly. Scarlett felt reassured in his arms, their dance turns into a passionate embrace. They cuddled for a long time until the music stopped.

"To answer your question before, I don't need to search among all the women who are here, because the only woman I love is in front of me." he said, taking her hand.

"Huh? What ... what did you say?"

Scarlett understood perfectly, but she refused to believe it. It was too much for her, she wanted to escape from this awkward moment. Aaron was waiting for her reaction.

"Um ... I think you are wrong, Aaron ... I am not the one you think ... or the one you want ..."

"Why do you say that ?" asks Aaron, who did not expect her reaction.

"Excuse me, I have to go back ..." she lets go of his hand and runs away.

Aaron is left alone and taken aback, what did he do wrong? He sets off in pursuit. She was opening her door.

"Scarlett! What did I do? Did I hurt you?" he wrote, joining her.

"Leave me alone, it's better for you and me that we each stay on our side. You have nothing to do with me." she said coldly.

"Scarlett, I don't understand, I just confessed that I love you! I thought that…"

"Well, think no more! You will never love me! I will make you suffer!" she writes.

Aaron didn't understand why she said that. He follows her to the kitchen.

"Get out of my house!" writes Scarlett, her eyes filling with tears.

"Scarlett, calm down… we can explain…" said Aaron, taking her in his arms.

Scarlett brutally pushes him away and grabs a knife, pointing it at him. Aaron steps back in fear.

"Ho! Scarlett! Put down that knife!"

"I will not make you happy! I am a monster! I will no longer trust a man!" she yells, hysterical.

Aaron closes the door to prevent his screams from attracting the attention of a villager.

"Scarlett, we can talk about it calmly, please, drop that knife." he said, advancing cautiously.

"Stop! Otherwise I will kill myself in front of you! I deserve it! I would rather die than surrender!" she said, turning the knife against her.

"SCARLETT !! No !!" he rushes over to her and grabs her wrist, removing the knife and letting it slide further to the ground.

"AAAH !! LEAVE ME! Kill me!" she yells, struggling.

Aaron holds her tightly in his arms until she calms down and she bursts into tears, falling to her knees, still in Aaron's arms.

"Shhhh ... calm down ... what's this story? Why should I stop you? Want to talk about it?" he asks silently.

She nods to say yes. He covers her with his coat and goes to the living room sofa.

"I don't come from here, actually. I'm from town. I was training with my mom so I was ready to inherit the business."

"I see ... but what is wrong with that?"

"In the meantime, I was forced to be with a man just to make me descendants. I was unable to conceive ... He ..." she stops in her sentence, feeling the tears come to her eyes.

"Shhhh, take your time ..." said Aaron, thinking about the worst that could have happened to her.

"He ... he raped me! Saying it's my fault ..." said Scarlett, bursting into tears.

Aaron was shocked by this revelation, he could never have thought of it, he cradled her in his arms.

"You know why I have this scar on my cheek? It was beating me too! One day, it was one time too many, it hit me again and ... I grabbed a knife, and ... I wanted to defend myself but I ... I stabbed him ... "she said, whispering the end of her sentence, still bursting into tears.

Aaron finally understood why she was so scared and that she never went out. He continues to listen to her.

"What happened next ?" he asks.

"I ... I was tried, but I was released because I used self-defense. Half defended me and the other called me a murderer ... I left town to settle here after the death of my mother. I prayed that no one would recognize me when I went outside ... I didn't want it to end like that. " Scarlett replies, drying her tears.

"I'm on your side ... you defended yourself and this junk deserved it, no one has the right to hit a woman!"

Scarlett was amazed that the Sheriff was part of her terrible past.

"You have to stop me ..." she said.

"No ... I won't do it. I understand why you don't trust me ... rather men ..."

"I ... I didn't say I don't trust you. I need time for that ... you're the only one who really seems to want to take care of me ..."

"For the moment, I will make sure that no one does you harm ... for my part, I will never harm you, I will never leave you, we will take our time." said Aaron, hugging her.

"Aaron ..." whispers Scarlett, hugging him too.

"You deserve happiness, everything you told me stays here, your secret will be ours." he said, looking at her.

Gently, he approaches her face, his lips brush against hers, Scarlett turns her head slightly, everything was going so fast for her. But she couldn't help smiling after this delicate gesture.

"I'll wait for you, Scarlett ... take the time it takes." said Aaron, taking her hand.

"You don't have to keep more secrets between us." he finished, kissing her forehead.

"I will come to see you as soon as I can." said Aaron, getting up.

"I prefer the night, I like it when you see me at that time." said Scarlett smiling, then she continues.

"And thank you again for trusting me."

Aaron turns around, he comes back to her, puts his two hands gently on her cheeks and kisses her tenderly. Scarlett remains frozen as if someone had cast a spell on her, she doesn't protest and relishes this kiss.

He breaks the kiss and says to her:

"I love you…"

Scarlett didn't know if she should answer him, she didn't want to rush, yet her feelings were mutual. She answers him with a simple smile and Aaron leaves in silence.

To be continued...

Part 2 :

#oc #showdown bandit oc #showdown bandit #Aaron #Scarlett #Sheriff #fanfiction #miss undertaker

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youcanblogifyouwantto · 3 years

Text

Biff’s Year in Music

2020 what can I say… I feel like this meme summed up the first half of it pretty well.

https://cheezburger.com/12209157/ant-man-meme-gives-a-recap-of-all-the-horrors-of-2020-so-far

Then to top it off this last week my son developed a spontaneous pneumothorax which basically is a collapsing of his lung for no apparent reason other than he is a tall thin white adolescent. To make matters worse he is 18 and COVID is raging in all the hospitals. Thankfully my wife is an RN and should have been a lawyer as she was able to argue her way into staying with him. Good thing she did because one the doctors fucked up so bad she gave him another Pneumothorax by turning a valve a wrong way. Needless to say it has been a very rough year and especially rough week for me and my family. Music has been and always will be the only constant positive release for me. 2020 had some great music and being home for almost an entire year now has led to a lot of music consumption. The only other thing I did almost as much as listen to music was drink and cook food to match what I was drinking. I’ve always loved beer and wine and dabbled in Whiskey but this year was the year of the cocktail for me. I would discover a new alcohol type and then plan crazy elaborate dinners that cocktail would either be an aperitif of digestif for. Fun yes, healthy? …That is yet to be determined. I did take up running again to counter the amount I was drinking and eating and I would say that I have consistently worked out more this year than any other year so my liver might be fucked but my heart and lungs are strong.

So to start it off, this year saw releases from some of my all-time favorite musicians that I found nice and good even but never clicked or haven’t yet. I had been eagerly anticipating Matt Berninger’s solo release all year and I dig it but strangely not enough to return to it unless I purposely tell myself to. The same goes for Bright Eyes, Real Estate, Sylavan Esso, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever minus Cars in Space (I played the shit out of that song), Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Car Seat Headrest, Dirty Projectors, Sufjan Stevens, Laura Marling (on first listen I thought easy top for the year then Fiona Apple came out and I haven’t returned to Laura Marling since), Damien Jurado, Jason Isbell, Neil Young (Homegrown had a special place in my heart for a month but again haven’t returned since August), Future Islands, Kevin Morby, and Busta Rhymes. All of these albums I do not hate or even dislike in fact some I liked a lot at first but just didn’t have staying power. The following list are albums I loved that some stayed all year in rotation. Not in particular order but kinda like a Coachella poster if it’s near the top it’s one of my favorites of the year. I can be very longwinded on paper and very brief in person so I will try my antisocial tendencies to describe these albums. I will say for the most part the albums that hit this year are like comfort food music for my soul.

Waxahatchee - St. Cloud – Home, comfort, introspective

Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher – Witty, production, great voice

Run The Jewels – RTJ4 - best running album ever. My favorite from these guys and best rap album I’ve heard in a while.

Jeff Tweedy – Love is the King. Maybe blasphemy but I like better than Warm. Perfect example of music comfort food. His biography is great too and so is the Summer teeth deluxe reissue.

Fleet Foxes – Shore – Beautiful, peaceful everything I needed from them and more. Side note Helplessness Blues was the first album review I ever wrote for ATR and I’m so glad I found those guys! Thank you for continuing the tradition.

Jeff Rosenstock – NO DREAM There was some good punk rock this year but this was the best also great running music. Rosenstock is now my go to for punk

Taylor Swift- Folk Lore- Story Telling, Sweater music, more music comfort food. And now Evermore continues the greatness. Dorothea might be my favorite track from both records. If you would have told me a Taylor Swift album would be in my tops for the year a couple of years ago I would have laughed you out of my face and now she has two albums in my tops. 2020 is one crazy year!

The Avalanches- We Will Always Love You- I’ve loved every single and was waiting for this to drop before posting this. Well Worth the wait. I like it better than the Gorillaz release and that is saying a lot. It’s hard to have this many spot on features and keep a cohesive vibe! Johnny Marr meets MGMT is another need more of this collab.

Loma - Don’t Shy Away- If 2020 could be articulated through music disorienting but also working from home has some perks. Good balance of weird and comfort

Adrienne Leckner – Songs- She writes great songs and performs them immaculately

Muzz- ST – The last show I went to before shutdown was Morrissey with Interpol opening and I forgot how much I love Bank’s voice. This album is highly underrated in my opinion especially Evergreen.

Gorillaz –Song Machine – Best since Demon Days and Robert Smith/Damon Albarn Collab was never anything I thought I needed but now want more of. When Tony Allen died I went through a deep Tony Allen dive that was quite enjoyable. Great Drummer!

Dinner party – ST – The title explains it better than I can

Against All Logic – 2017-2019 – Kelly Lee Owens and this were the only electronica to stay all year both great running albums and If you can’t do it good do it hard is worth the price of admission alone

Hamilton Leithhauser- The Loves of your life- I love this man and I loved the walkmen. I feel he for me is like Frank Sinatra was for my mom. Not as sweet as a voice but can sing the hell out of a song.

Walter Martin – The world at Night- Another Walkmen member, this is another comfort food album it just feels right in my soul

Ka – Descendants Of Cain – Criminally underrated for too long this dude paints lyrical mood pictures like GZA.

Perfume Genius – Set My Heart On Fire Immediately – Beautiful Authentic Elegant

Fiona Apple – Fetch The Bolt Cutters - Lyrically and sonically slays me. You have to like spoken word and weird rhythm texture but she nails both of those.

Bonny Light Horseman- ST – Great folk indie I just knew this was an album for me on first listen

Rose city band - Summerlong – Best new discovery, feeds my jam band meets indie soul

Strokes - The New Abnormal – I don’t know why this didn’t get more love? I loved it and The Adults are Talking is top five best Strokes songs.

Pinegrove- Marigold – More indie comfort food music

Bartees Strange – Live Forever – Second best new discovery. This dude is all over the place but in a good way. If you like this check out his singles where he covers many National songs.

Kelly Lee Owens – Inner Song- My Friend Antony described this better than I can at the current moment. Inner songs indeed.

The Killers – Imploding the Mirage- Most surprised album of the year, I’ve never been a big Killers fan but this one just wrapped it hooks inside me and didn’t let go all year

Young Jesus – Welcome to Conceptual Beach- Avant-garde or experimental music stretches me in ways that are very good for my soul and this one was such an album

My Morning Jacket – Waterfall II – Took a trip up to Humboldt in Early August and this was the soundtrack of the trip. Very much needed social distance return to nature vacation.

Hum- Inlet – I rocked out to this many a summer early fall evening sitting on my dock fishing and drinking beer.

Haim- Women in Music Pt. III – Best Haim yet and yes they are maturing into great song writers

Nation of Language- Introduction, Presence – Third best new discovery.. My friend Spencer at Shadows and Noise (a blog I’ve contributed to on occasion) accurately describes this album nicely. My wife loves Depeche Mode, New Order, and Erasure so this album is a new version of that genre that she and I can love together.

Coriky- ST – Half of Fugazi with a female drummer that sounds like classic Sleater Kinney in fact Fugazi meets Sleater Kinney is how I would describe this and that can’t be wrong!

EP’s Singles

James Blake- Before (Great marriage of his old and new)

Kruangbin & Leon Bridges- Texas Sun

Local Natives – Sour Lemon

Radio Dept – The Absence of Birds

Leon Bridges – Sweeter

Tom Berlin – Projections

Father John Misty – To S/ To R

Rostam- Unfold you

Mank is one of the only great movies of 2020!

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ohmyohpioneer · 5 years

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my best friend’s brother is also on this snowy vacation queliot headcanon:

So I just got back from a snowy vacation and I was a little winedrunk on the plane and I thought (and consequently typed) a truly idiotic headcanon.

Quentin is invited (ok bullied into but with good intentions) last minute by his friend, Margo, to come on her big annual ski trip and even though he doesn’t ski because his parents never had the money he says yes because it feels nice to be invited and, well, he likes Margo. It can’t be that bad, right?

Except that it kind of can because he didn’t realize Margo’s older brother, Eliot, is also invited (why did this not occur to him because of course he is) until Eliot steps out of the car, all regal and long legs in a crazy expensive but ok pretty cute Canada Goose parka.

And he knows Eliot. It’s not like they’ve never met before. Which is kind of the problem because Quentin inexplicably just really likes him. I mean, yeah, he’s attractive, sure, but the last time he went to one of Margo’s parties they ended up talking and laughing for, well, a long time and it was all knocking knees and shared bottles of tequila. And Quentin–

But it’s all beside the point because Margo is a good friend and Eliot is off limits and absolutely unattainable for someone at Quentin’s level. Also potentially involved with that guy Mike - who has bad hair - regardless. Just. Not anyone he should be sweating.

And ok. Eliot seems delighted - which is not a word Quentin uses with any sort of frequency - to see him and gives him a hug. A big one. Like, the kind with great arm pressure? And a shoulder sniff? Fuck, Quentin is weird. God. Why can’t he be normal?

But of course Eliot is charming and immediately they’re all in the little rented chalet with hot toddys heavy on the toddy (assuming that’s the whiskey part), and he really needs to keep himself in check.

Quentin’s only frame of reference for ski lodges or ski culture or whatever is from movies, namely romcoms, and it seems exactly right that the rented chalet is tiny and there are only a few, cosy (the rich word for cramped) rooms and he ends up sharing a room with Eliot. It’s a bunk bed because sure. And Eliot immediately claims the bottom (“I am a top in all other realms” he smirks and is that flirting or just witticism?)

Josh and Margo and Penny and Julia all immediately go to the double and triple and quintuple diamond and rhombus hills (it is all utter nonsense terminology to him and maybe this is what people feel like when he talks Fillory) but Eliot stays with him while he rents skis and insists on joining him on the bunny hill (“It’s where all of the cute instructors are. All you have to do is ask about the french fry pizza technique and Marcel, who is here for the winter from Switzerland, is buying your après aperitifs.”)

Quentin falls. A lot. But Eliot laughs and picks him up and it’s sort of okay. But cold. People like this?

They call it early because “the chalet is calling, and so is an adequately made, intensely overpriced cocktail” (Eliot, not Quentin)

Somewhere around day three, with less falls and a lot of Eliot insisting he’s ready for at least one of the lesser diamonds, he starts calling him Q.

Quentin (Q) absolutely does not blush when Eliot cheers and hugs him in a clacking frenzy of skis when he makes it down his first real hill without so much as a stumble.

They’re all very drunk and playing the Forehead Game, pieces of masking tape stuck to their heads, names written in disorderly Sharpie letters (person, fictional or real rules: no you are not real, yes you can talk, yes you are animated, fine yes, you are the Brave Little Toaster, you cheater) when Josh and Margo start making eyes and not-so-subtly tell each other that Margo is Jon Snow and Josh is Kylie Jenner so that they can “sneak off” (stumble out of the room making out with disturbing vigor) to do whatever it is they plan on doing (subtle)

And Penny and Julia decide to go on a starlight walk or some uber-saccharine romantic beautiful thing

And then it’s just. Quentin and Eliot. And a lot of wine. In front of a cracking fire in a moonlit chalet and they slump even further in their chairs by the mantle and they’re talking about something so inconsequential and great (“Ugh. Margo usually has flawless taste in friends but Back to the Future III?? No one with any decency is allowed to like that movie, Q.”) and fuck Quentin is giggling and they’ve fallen to the floor (“How can you have not read any of the Harry Potter books?”) and if his head lolls just a fraction closer to Eliot’s wild curls, it’s because of some sort of scientific, magnetic pull or something.

He’s pretty sure that Eliot is leaning forward, or maybe somehow the wooden floors have slanted, or-or the world has moved and slid him closer to Eliot - his face in particular. And lips. His lips are like just molecules away, and–

Penny and Julia. Back. Snow dusted. Glowing. In love or some shit.

He accidentally calls him El. It just happens when they’re both at the breakfast table drinking coffee one morning. (“Of course you like it black, Coldwater. All tortured 50s existentialist.” “Just shut up and pass me the butter, El.”) And Eliot doesn’t correct him, just smirks and sips daintily at his coffee (no sugar, lots of milk) and nudges the butter at him.

Quentin really likes the way Eliot says Coldwater. He just. Does.

It’s Vermont during ski season so there’s a giant snow storm.

Obviously.

All that snow has knocked the power out. It’s getting increasingly cold inside the cabin the longer they’re without heating, and Penny and Julia Do the Brave Thing and venture out to see if they can scrounge up a generator or something to make this less miserable. Margo and Josh beeline for their room without a word and that’s that, apparently.

His bunk is fucking freezing.

He can hear Eliot on the bunk under him turning and turning. He wonders if he’s any warmer.

“Q. For the love of all things unholy, could you please get down here and help me generate some body heat before I go full Ötzi the Iceman. Not that a millennia of future generations wouldn’t benefit from seeing my beauty preserved in icy mummification- but I’m not that altruistic. Oh. And please bring all of the blankets you have.”

Eliot’s bed is. Really small. Well, it’s the same size as the top bunk, but with two people on it, it’s notably less spacious. Eliot is big spooning (as a verb), and Quentin is small spooning (silently freaking out), but it is really helping to keep the chill off. The four blankets Princess and the Pea style stacked on top of them probably aren’t hurting either.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, the heat must have kicked back in - or Penny and Julia had succeeded in their quest - because Quentin wakes, sweating, pushing off cover after cover after cover and Eliot has somehow lost his shirt (and Quentin quickly loses his shit), but mostly he just lays back down and doesn’t go back to his own bunk.

He wakes up again because there are lips on his shoulder.

Not like, random, disembodied dream lips. But specific lips.

Eliot lips.

It’s still dark outside.

Quentin had kind of forgotten that feeling? That one low, low in your stomach when you wake up in bed with someone, someone who is against you and kissing your skin and you feel warm and dazed and blissed the hell out.

But he definitely remembers it now.

And he turns and they are for sure, absolutely, 100% full-on making out now and it’s really small in this bed.

Somehow Quentin loses his shirt, too (Eliot is good at somehow misplacing clothing)

“Just making sure you’re warm, Q.”

“Yeah. Taking off my shirt is definitely helping.”

They wake up in the morning and it’s hot and sticky and the opposite of Ötzi and Quentin says so.

Eliot agrees and doubles down.

They decide to stay in the chalet for the day while Margo and Josh and Penny and Julia spend their last day on the slopes. They drink hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and Quentin hates it (the schnapps), but doesn’t tell Eliot, and Eliot loves it (burrowing into the couch with no clothes, but wool socks on, next to Quentin) but doesn’t tell Quentin.

“This hasn’t been that bad.”

#queliot #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #the magicians #queliot ff #queliot au #queliot headcanon #this is pretty random #but i am relatively sleep deprived #and i do already miss my snowy lovely iceland #thanks wine #thanks iceland #fic

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mrsbenhardyx · 5 years

Text

Love, I’m home - Chapter 2

Read chapter one

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x reader

Summary: You have a great job at the BBC and you love writing scripts and shooting episodes. But one day, your boss asks you to go to France for 2 months to shoot a special reportage. You are excited, but also scared to leave Roger for so long…

Warnings: fluff, maybe angst, alcohol

Word count: 2718

A/N: Guys, this my very first fanfiction so don’t shoot me if it’s not 100% perfect yet. I hope you like it! Let me know when there is anything you want to tell me about the story. I would love it if you would like, reblog and share this! And react to tell me what you think. I would appreciate that! Love <3

Disclaimer: English is not my main language. There probably are some words that are used incorrectly and there will be some grammar mistakes in there too. Please forgive me for that.

When your plane landed at the main airport in Paris - you remembered that it was called Paris Charles de Gaulle - it was four o’clock. And by the time you arrived in the hotel, it was already an hour later. You sat down on one of the two big beds in the hotel room that you shared with Rachel. You were absolutely exhausted and you could use a short nap. Luckily, Rachel was your best friend and she saw immediately what you needed.

“Y/N, you look really tired. Take a nap for a few hours. I’m going to eat something with the rest of the crew, so you can be alone and rest. I’ll wake you when we need to leave for dinner. Alright?”, she asked you, while she was sitting next to you.

“Okay, but tell the crew that I’m sorry that I can’t come with them to eat something’, you replied, slightly guilty.

“I will, but now you need to take some rest now, because the next two months are going to be tough and we will need to work very hard on that reportage. And you have to look well rested to go to restaurant this evening,”, Rachel said while looking at you, a little worried about the way you looked. “I’ll be back in about two hours.”

Rachel left the room a minute later, but you decided to first unpack your things before going to bed. You tried to give everything a good place without taking too much space from your roommate, but Rachel was right, you were really sleepy, so you ended up going to bed after all. You walked over to the bed and lifted the covers to go underneath. When you finally were laying down under the blankets, you missed Roger’s warmth next to you. You wanted him to sing you to sleep, but he was in London and you were in Paris. It were going to be a long two months without your Roger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Around two hours later, Rachel came back into the hotel room and she saw you laying in bed. You were in deep sleep, so she decided to take a quick shower before waking you up, but you woke up from the sound of the water falling down from the faucet. You looked on your watch and saw that is was already half past seven and the crew would be waiting for you in the restaurant in less than 45 minutes.

“Rachel, why didn’t you wake me?” You jumped out of your bed and ran into the bathroom. You hadn’t thought about the dress you were going to wear or what make-up you would put on.

“Y/N, don’t worry. We have still more than enough time left”, she answered while she let out a little sigh.

“But I still need to pick my dress and my shoes and my make-up and my-“ You started to go through everything you still had to figure out, but Rachel interrupted you.

“Y/N, I said not to worry. Or how they say it here: ne t’inquiète pas. Everything will be alright. Just stay calm, I’m here to help you. I’ll help you pick a dress and I will do your make-up.”

“Thanks, Rachel, I wouldn’t know what I had to do without you…”

“Then it’s a good thing that I am here with you.” She laughed and pulled you into a hug and she kissed you on your forehead. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked into the restaurant and you and Rachel were perfectly on time. You were wearing a long red dress with long sleeves and a subtle belt around your waist. You had covered you neckline with a gold necklace that matched the earrings you once got from Roger.

“Bienvenue au restaurant Chez Louis et Marie. Suivez-moi à votre table. Les autres sont déjà là”, the waiter said when you arrived at the little counter in front of the restaurant that looked really expensive and it was weird being there without Roger by your side. But no Roger meant no paparazzi and you let a little sigh of relief disappear from your mouth.

You hung your coat on the coat rack and followed Rachel and the waiter to your table where the rest of the crew had already started the aperitif. The waiter pulled your chair a little back and you sat down while smiling at him and you said: “Merci beaucoup.” You had practiced your French when you where at home and this was the first time you could use it, although it was with a heavy English accent. He smiled back at you and handed you a menu before leaving to another table. You decided to go for a light salad and a glass of white wine, because you were not feeling very hungry.

You were not following the conversation that your colleagues were having, because you could only think of home, the boys and of course Roger. Rachel saw that you weren’t paying attention, so she poked you in your side. “You’re alright, Y/N? What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing special, just about home and the bo-“

“And about Roger?”

“Maybe a little…”

But what you did not know was that Roger was thinking about you exactly at the same time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LONDON

Roger spent the whole day in the studio since you had left for Paris. Together with Brian, John and Freddie, he tried to work on some new songs, but his thoughts just kept drifting towards you. Brian saw that Roger was not paying attention while they were rehearsing their latest song.

“Rog, are you alright? We’re trying to rehears a new song here.” He asked when he stopped playing the guitar. He walked over to Roger to get a better look at him. Freddie and Roger also stopped playing to hear and see what was wrong with Roger.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I’m fine. I was just thinking about Y/N.” He answered, while he was trying not to break when he thought about you.

“Of course you were, darling,” Freddie answered immediately “and we miss her too and I’m sure she misses us too.” Freddie smiled and came closer to put a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “You know what… Let’s call it a day. Go home and get some rest. We’ll rehears the song tomorrow.”

“Are you serious, Fred? It isn’t even four o’clock yet. I can rehears the song right now if you guys want.” Roger replied. He looked around him to see how the other boys reacted, both surprised and pleased by Freddie’s proposal.

Now John reassured Roger: “Roger, it’s no big deal. Now, go home and call Y/N!” Roger hesitated at first, but John made himself clear again: “Now, Roger, go call her!”

When Roger came home, he forgot for a moment that you weren’t at home. He shouted out of habit “Love, I’m home”, but he interrupted himself when he realized that you weren’t there to recall anything. He put his coat on the coat rack and he fell in the couch. He sighed while he was thinking about you. Where would she be? What is she doing? What is she wearing? What is she eating? Does she think about me?

Does she miss me?

He really wanted to do what John told him to, but he wasn’t sure if it was the right time. Maybe you were doing something very important, maybe you weren’t even in your hotel room. So Roger decided not to call, but he wanted to start writing his first letter instead. He walked to the drawer where you had put the stationary and the envelopes before you had left. You had also left a little message in the drawer.

In case you would like to write me a letter. I already wrote the address on the envelopes. :) Love, Y/N

Roger almost started crying when he read your note. He took an envelope out of the drawer and indeed, the address of your hotel was already written down in the corner.

Roger also took a sheet of paper and a pen and he installed himself at the kitchen table to write his first letter.

Y/N, loveI miss you like crazy. It has only been a few hours, but it already feels like weeks.…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PARIS

After dinner was over and you said goodnight to the crew, you and Rachel went to the bar to have one last drink before you went to your hotel room. You ordered your fourth glass of wine of the evening and you first took a small sip of it, but then drank it all at once. Rachel looked up from her martini and looked at you with a concerned look. When you tried to order a new glass of wine, she stopped you.

“Y/N, haven’t you drank enough this evening? We should go to our room and go to bed”, she said, giving the waiter a sign not to give you your drink. “We need to be fresh to start working on the reportage and with a hangover, you will not be able to concentrate on your work tomorrow.”

“Rachel, I can decide for myself. Give me my wine. Or no, give me something stronger.” You were clearly drunk. You didn’t need much alcohol to get drunk, so four glasses of wine were more than enough and you would definitely have a hangover the next morning. “I don’t need you to act like my mother.”

“Y/N, I am just worried about you. Wouldn’t you be worried about me if I would be like this. I would at least expect that from my best friend.” She stood up from her stool and came closer to you. She took your head in her hands and looked you in the eyes. “Y/N, you’re my best friend and I love you and that’s why I am so worried about you. You changed since we left this morning. You started acting so weird when we got on the plane.” When you looked into her piercing gaze, you realized what you were doing. You weren’t like that. You weren’t even away for a day and you were already drinking too much. If you continued like this, you would not know what you might do in two months. You knew Roger’s heart would break if he saw you like this. You needed to control yourself and your behaviour. You had to stay strong for Roger and for yourself. You didn’t even realize you were crying until Rachel wiped your tears away of your cheeks. “Don’t cry. Everything will be okay.”

“I know, I just… I’m sorry… Roger…”, You tried to make a proper sentence, but it were rather single words that came from your mouth. “I am just really worried about Roger. We have never been away from each other for such a long time. And I know that he loves me, but when he starts drinking too much, he just doesn’t know what he is doing...” You sobbed and Rachel pulled you closer to lay you against her chest.

“Y/N, I told you already; Brian, Freddie and John are there to look after Roger. They love you too and they will make sure that nothing is going to happen to Roger or to you.” She gently took your hair out of your face. “It’s not necessary to worry. Everything will be alright. Let’s go to our room so you can call him. It’s only eleven o’clock in London, so he will still be awake now.”You stood up from your stool and left €20 before heading to the elevator.

When you arrived in your room, you threw your coat on the small seat and you searched for your pajamas in your half-unpacked suitcase. You walked to the bathroom to remove your make up and only then you saw how your make up was spread over your face. You quickly took a towel and rubbed under your eyes to wipe away the mascara. You quickly put your hair in a bun and you looked in the mirror for one last time. “Okay, Y/N, you can do this. You are not going to cry. It’s just a phone call to your boyfriend. That’s all.” You tried to convince yourself that everything would go well en that you wouldn’t cry. You were so excited to hear Roger’s voice again, but you were also scared to break when you would hear it. You had never left each other for so long. When he went on tour with Queen, you always went with Roger and the boys. The longest time you hadn’t been together was when you were spending the weekend with your parents, but that was only for two days. Today you had left for two months.

You were ready to call him. You had put on your pajamas and were sitting on the side of the bed with the phone on the bedside table next to you. You took the telephone receiver and you put it to your ear. Your hand was shaking while you dialed the number. You did not even have to look at the little note you had put in your handbag before leaving, because you knew the number by heart.

“Hello, this is Roger Taylor.”

“Hi, Rog. It’s me, Y/N.”

“Y/N? Is it really you? Oh, love, finally! I miss you so much!”

“I miss you too, Roger.” And what you had feared, happened. Tears began to run down your face when you heard his voice. “It has only been one day and I already want to come home to you.”

“I know, love. I wish you were here with me now. I missed your hugs and kisses when I came home. But let’s not get too sentimental or I will cry too.” You could hear him laugh through the telephone and you imagined the smile that you had fallen in love with. “Tell me about your day.”

“Well, we actually only went for dinner this evening. I slept most of the day after we arrived at the hotel.” You tried to think about any other things you did that day, but you couldn’t come up with anything else. “Tell me about yours.” “I went to studio with the boys and we tried to rehears some new songs, but Freddie saw that I wasn’t paying attention so he sent me home. And I, uh … Well, I don’t think I should tell you already.”

“Now I’m curious. Tell me!”

“All right then… I started writing my first letter after I came home from the studio.” You were surprised that he even had thought of writing a letter to you, but you were super excited at the thought that a letter from Roger was coming soon. “Are you serious? You remembered that I put the paper and the envelops in the drawer?”

“Of course I remembered. We made a promise!”

“Indeed, we did make a promise.” You were happy that he remembered that you had put all the things he would need in a drawer. And that meant that he had also read the little note that you had left with it. When you thought of that, you smiled and you saw Rachel coming out of the bathroom in her pajamas. She gave you a little sign that she wanted to go to sleep and you understood it immediately. “But, honey, I have to go. Rachel wants to go to bed because we need to get up early tomorrow.”

“Oh, all right.” You heard a little disappointment in his voice.

“I love you, Roger Taylor.”

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

You heard how Roger put the phone down on the other side, but before he did that, you thought you could hear a short sob. Your heart broke when you realized that Roger was crying and you weren’t there to take him into your arms.

You stood up from the bed and walked over to your suitcase. You opened a small zipper and you took out a sheet of paper, an envelope on which your address was written and a pen and you started writing your own letter addressed to Roger.

Dear Roger, love of my life…

Read chapter three

#ben hardy #ben hardy!roger taylor x reader #ben hardy!roger x reader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy imagine #fanfiction #queen #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody boys #bohemian rapsody movie #i hope you like it

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inyri · 5 years

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Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 38- Checkmate

Equivalent Exchange by inyri Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.)

Comments are always appreciated! Visit me at:

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Fanfiction Dot Net

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Checkmate

There are few things more delightful than watching an old enemy fall to pieces.

It starts as it always does: a crease at the corner of one eye, a flickering pulse at the edge of a shirt collar, the tap-tap-tap of a fingernail on a polished wood desktop. Trant sits staring as the video plays, jaw clenched so tightly she can see the muscles in his cheek twitch, and she wonders whether he’s angrier at her or at Garza’s carelessness. He’d clearly known about Eclipse Squad- likely far better than she did given the look on his face when she’d first mentioned it; he didn’t strike her as the type to offer no-strings-attached favors, ex-wife or not.

Probably especially not an ex-wife. He had at least two that her own intel knew about, not to mention his charming little habit of getting up the skirts of most of his secretaries. She doesn’t fault the man a divorce or four: getting married in their line of work was a lousy idea and staying that way seemed impossible unless one didn’t mind lying about every single detail of one’s life. But fucking the support staff? That suggested quite a lot about a man, none of it good-

-and those poor fired secretaries had so very many interesting things to say after a few Starshine Surprises.

Eclipse Squad hadn’t stood a chance, not with Rakata tech in their heads and Havoc hunting them. The Republic should have known better than to play with anything the Rakata’d left behind but they always were idiots when it came to pushing the boundaries of science, even after the lessons they should have learned on Tatooine and Belsavis and now Manaan- she knows they knew, she saw their research teams prowling around even as her own crew evacuated- and Garza must have been desperate for new blood once Havoc was unmasked after Corellia. (That had been Chancellor Saresh’s fuckup, probably; the Republic did love its parades. Meanwhile the Empire’s embedded observers managed dozens of high-definition holos of every squad member, right down to the whiskers on the XO’s face.) In any case, with their best SpecForce team out in the open there must have been a lot riding on the program’s success.

Those poor stupid soldiers. It was the sort of thing she would have expected from her own masters once upon a time, though in Science Division’s hands they would have ended up in Shadow Town under a microscope instead of skar’kla food on Rishi. One learns from one’s failures.

Waste not, et cetera.

(Deep in the back of her mind there is a flicker of static, a faint pressure on the crown of her head like pats from a vaguely condescending hand, there and gone again in a moment.

She was stupid once, too. More than once.)

She has to hand it to Havoc Squad, though: even bugfuck crazy the Eclipse soldiers fought hard and Major Janasim and her team cut them down like paper targets, bodies stashed and confirmation holos of each kill in proper professional fashion. Very tidy. Almost admirable, if the woman didn’t seem like such a trigger-happy psychopath. It’s understandable, too, why she’d let Garza walk- favors make the galaxy go ‘round, after all, and it sounds like Havoc must have owed their general more than a few.

Not that it’ll keep her from using it against all of them.

If Trant wants to turn this into a shadow war with Theron as collateral, she’ll bring the SIS down around his ears and as much of the Republic as she can drag into the wreckage. That probably isn’t proper. That probably isn’t what a Commander ought to do. Then again, she never wanted to run this Alliance in the first place.

Oh, well. Waste not, et cetera.

She turns her attention back to the holo.

“-but I have some pull with the SIS director,” Garza said thoughtfully, cupping her chin with one gloved hand. “Say goodbye to the uniform, but I’d be back running ops within the year.”

The major still had blood on her face, a wide spatter across one high cheekbone and the riveted patch where her left eye should have been. They never did get footage of what exactly she’d done to Corovani- the cameras in that sector were pointed in just the wrong direction, not that it mattered much with Garza’s precious safehouse bugged to the rafters- but she can guess. “Those spies are in for a shock." Her lips curled into a smirk. “They could use a little SpecForce training.”

Trant taps his fingertips on the desktop one last time before resting his palms flat against the surface. His shoulders rise and fall, a breath drawn in and out with a whistle on the exhale like air out of a balloon; a single sharp click registers in her right ear and for a second she thinks he’s patched someone else into the call until she sees a panel light blinking on the far wall. Second light from the top. The bridge.

Oh, Theron. She pulls her focus back to the recording as it freezes on its last frame, forces her body to relax and her face to maintain its perfect smiling mask. However long he’s been listening he won’t like what he hears, but that’s not her problem now. You never do follow orders worth a damn, do you?

“I went to her funeral, you know.” Trant leans back in his chair. “Janasim. She died on a siege attempt on some Zakuulan outpost- saved the rest of the squad before they got her. Hero to the end and all that. Elin always liked her.” He picks up a stylus and traces two circles in the air where the projection sits in front of him, one around each woman’s face. “Now I see why. Two peas in the same bitch pod.”

Charming to the end, this one. She lets it go. “Personal feelings aside, you have to admit the footage is damning. Science experiments gone wrong, a whole fort massacred and the military covering it all up? Media catnip.”

“You’re still assuming I care.” He’s going to break a tooth if he doesn’t unclench his jaw. “Ex-wife, Cipher Nine. If that’s your leverage-”

“Oh, Marcus. You’re missing the obvious connection.”

One eyebrow lifts, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t fault you for not caring what happens to her,” she says. He cares. She can tell. But that isn’t the point. “But how much do you think she cares about what happens to you? You’ve got a war criminal running your ops division and when this gets out the reporters will come running. It’s only a matter of time before the Senate follows, and who knows what they’ll dig up?”

“I hate to break it to you, but by most definitions we’re all war criminals- you and Agent Shan included. So one op went bad? It happens. It’ll blow over.”

She laughs; his gaze flickers back to the still-paused holovid. Nearly there. Nearly. “I never said I wasn’t. And this is just an aperitif. Do you think they’d like to hear about Ardun Kothe- how a high-and-mighty Jedi let his team torture a poor little defector? Or should we go back further? I’m sure the Cathar would love to know what really happened to Prince Shange. Or Ralltiir, perhaps. Messy. Very messy.”

Trant blanches.

(A particularly nasty little mission, Ralltiir, even by wartime standards. He wasn’t even Bureau Chief back then according to the Black Codex, let alone Director, so it’s not entirely fair play. Too bad for him. He lost the right to fair play when he called in the mark.)

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” She sits up just a little straighter. “I can keep going, if you like. But you’re a clever man. Surely you can see where this ends.”

The stylus cracks in half as his hand spasms; its tip bounces once, twice along the desktop and then lies still.

“Or we settle this like civilized people.” Deactivating the recording, she extends one hand toward him with fingers uncurled. “Everyone’s dirty little secrets stay secret, starting with these. All it takes is one message to your people, Director Trant. Call it off. Now.”

The other half of the stylus falls, resting alongside its mate. “You realize it’ll take you down too? If you do this-”

“It might. I’ll risk it.”

He sits in silence for the better part of a minute, eyes half-closed, lost to thought, and she waits. These things take time. He isn’t wrong, either- if this mess goes that deep it’ll be hard to avoid. But he doesn’t have proof, not with her dossier wiped for all those years, and she’s never pretended to be a model of virtue. All of his name-calling aside, her people know what she is- was-

Is?

She doesn’t know any more.

Let him try. Better that than Theron running, looking back over his shoulder for the rest of their lives. Better that than-

“All right. I’ll call them.” Voice hollow, he stares flatly into the camera. “I always liked Theron, you know. He was a good kid. A good agent, until you got your claws into him.”

“He still is. But you know that.”

The war’s been hard on all of them and Marcus Trant isn’t a young man; he must be seventy by now, or close to it, and in that moment he looks every single one of those years. He reaches out slowly, one fingertip hovering over the disconnect switch of his holoprojector.

“I don’t understand you,” she says quietly. “You fought the Empire at every step, even during peacetime. You fought for your Republic as hard as any frontline soldier, and now you’re content to sit and let Zakuul strangle you? Every Star Fortress barricading your planets, every new factory-”

“I know war.” He glances off to one side, out a window by the way the light slants across his face. “I know war enough to know when my side can’t win. They’re strangling all of us- but those last few breaths last longer if you don’t struggle, don’t they? You’ll figure that out soon enough. Now get off my line.”

He flips the switch; the projection cuts off.

When she’s certain the channel’s closed, she sags forward in her chair and rests her head in her shaking hands.

***

Fully five minutes pass before she settles herself and she still can’t quite push away the feeling that something isn’t right.

She needs to talk Theron.

When she rises from her chair her body’s exhausted, as though she’s been running for hours. Is she that out of practice? The idea’s absurd. She hadn’t even needed to push Trant that hard before he’d buckled, which-

No. No, he said he’d make the call. He- what if-

She needs to talk to Theron. Catching up her datapad, she unlocks the door and heads to the front of the ship.

He looks up when she crosses the threshold, seemingly startled; she knows it’s a lie, of course. In the silent ship he would have heard her coming all the way down the corridor, heavy dress boots echoing on the floor.

“That bad?”

She shrugs and reaches past him to flip the comm switch, closing the still-open link between the war room and the bridge, and Theron flinches ever so slightly. There’s no point in arguing over it- he knows she knows and that’s enough, and they were neither of them any good at keeping their noses where they didn’t belong. That was too hard a habit to break. “You tell me. You worked for Marcus Trant for years: is he telling the truth, or not?”

“I don’t- hang on.” The navicomputer’s active and he swivels his chair toward it, locking in the last set of jump calculations to Voss. “It’s hard to be sure, but I think he is. If it was just Garza on the hook he might have risked standing his ground, but he’s been fighting to keep ops reports out of the Senate’s hands for decades. If I’d known that was your bluff-”

“You think I was bluffing?” Leaning against the center console, she folds her arms across her chest. “If Trant hadn’t balked, or if he’d hung up on me, the Coruscant Sun was about to get the tip of a lifetime- and about two dozen other newsrooms after that, depending on how long it took him to come around. And I knew you weren’t going to like it, which is why you weren’t supposed to hear it.”

Theron blinks, shuts down the navicomputer, and then sits back in his chair with a deep sigh and a shake of his head. “I didn’t ask you to protect me. I definitely didn’t ask you to offer to throw yourself to the wolves to do it.”

“I’m supposed to be in charge of this mess, Theron. That’s my job, and if that’s what it takes-”

“No. Absolutely not.”

It’s her turn to blink now, head tilted, at the vehemence in his voice. “I’m sorry,” she says carefully, “but that’s not up to you. I understand that you feel you owe him and-”

He cuts her off again, sharper. “Yeah, I do, but that’s not what I meant. I meant that I don’t need you to-” wrinkling his nose, he rephrases- “I don’t want you to throw yourself in front of my problems. It made sense for you to be the one to make the call, sure, but I won’t watch you get hurt by this. I just- I won’t, okay?”

That’s-

Oh. An old wound, but still a deep one; as she looks down at him he exhales and lets go of the armrests, deep half-circles marks from his nails embedded in the padding. But who?

(Not his father, certainly not his mother. An old friend or an ops partner, maybe- he liked to work alone, but-

And then she wonders, just for a moment, how Ngani Zho died. She knows where and when it happened- during the mission that destroyed the Sun Razer in the Vesla system- from her brief glimpse at the archive file-

She thinks she might know how, too. Poor Theron.)

“I-” She sighs. Theron reaches out to wrap both hands around her forearms, pulling her away from the console; she lets herself relax and be led, takes a step forward until they’re toe to toe. “I know. I know. But I won’t, either, and I will do what I have to if this doesn’t go the way we think.”

His grip shifts, arms around her waist now, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against her stomach. “Did anyone ever tell you,” he says, half-muffled, “that you’re impossible?”

“Frequently. Not so much when I’m trying to keep them alive-” she bends, kissing the top of his head as the same time he makes an irritated noise and pinches her ass, which she’ll take; at least he knows she’s trying to lighten the mood, even if he’s still angry which- well, it’s fair, isn’t it? “In any case, it’s over. I hope. If you thought I was bluffing, he might too, and we won’t know that until the hammer falls.”

“No, you’re right. Marcus doesn’t know you like I do. You threw him completely off his game, better than anyone I’ve ever seen- he can’t predict you. He’s got no reason to doubt you’ll do exactly as you say.”

“But you do?”

Theron sighs again and pulls her in tighter. “I know you’re more than your dossier. I know you aren’t-”

He trails off, then; when she glances down he’s already looking up at her with tired eyes. She should have kept him further out of this, shouldn’t she? He’s too close to it, too tethered by his history to ever be able to pull himself completely free (and that he’d left the SIS at all was her fault, he’d said as much that first morning when they woke- he hadn’t said fault and he never would and they could blame it on the war all they wanted but they both know the truth of it, deep down). “Hm?”

“Who was Shange?” he says, apropos of nothing. “The name’s familiar, but I feel like I can’t remember why.”

“Before our time, technically speaking. He was a Cathar prince from back during the Great War who opposed their alliance with the Republic- apparently he amassed quite a following. The SIS scooped up the the lot of them and shipped them off to Belsavis.” There had been a lot of things in the Tomb that belonged there, sithspawn and their masters and worse. But not those Cathar. “Slapped them in indefinite stasis and let the rumor spread around that they’d all been killed in battle.”

“And then?”

She shrugs. “SCORPIO wasn’t the only thing I dug up on my first run through that place. His temper hadn’t improved after twenty years, and if word of his survival hasn’t spread in the Core Worlds I can only assume it’s because someone’s been working very hard to keep it quiet.”

“Probably a safe guess. And Ralltiir?”

Carefully, she pushes a stray piece of hair from where it’s falling over his implant. “You don’t want to know about Ralltiir. Trust me.”

“But you’re more than happy to publicize it?” Theron goes still for a moment, then turns his head sharply away from her hand. “That isn’t fair and you know it.”

“Fair to whom? None of this is fair!” she snaps. Even looking away he’s still holding on to her and she squirms away, takes a step back toward the console. Damn it all, why’d he have to eavesdrop and not leave well enough alone? “And of course I’m not happy about it. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to start a fight with the man- he’s been eyes-deep in war since long before either of us were born. On one level I respect that-” Theron starts to say something but she keeps going- “and if he keeps his fucking word it’s all bluster in any case. But if he doesn’t-”

“He will.” Suddenly plaintive, half-standing, he pulls her back in nearer. “He will. I’m sure of that much, I just- please, I’m sorry. Marcus just-”

Poor Theron. He’s got her wrapped up close again and she doesn’t resist, doesn’t have the heart to, not with the look on his face. Instead she tidies his hair again and this time he leans into it with a little shudder that might have been anger or grief or resignation or all of that wrapped up together.

“I would have thought he’d understand,” he finally says. “Out of everyone, I thought he’d get it. Or that all the years we worked together would count for enough to balance out how much he seems to hate you.”

“I suppose I rather deserve it, all things considered.”

Forehead scrunched, he mutters something she can’t quite hear. “You had your orders back then, just like me. Whatever you did- just do what you have to now, Nine. I know you won’t pull punches and I’m not asking you to, but I also know that you’ll take this as far as it needs to go and no further.”

“And if it has to go that far?” He always thinks the best of her and she wishes he wouldn’t. There were so many things he didn’t know, shouldn’t know, that- well. (He never saw her with Hunter, at the end. He’s heard the story, but-)

“Then I trust your judgment. It’s gotten us here, hasn’t it?”

When she laughs he moves with her; she lets her fingers tangle up in the crease of his collar. “I think you forgot the part where I ended up frozen in carbonite for five years with a ghost in my head.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

“Force, you really are impossible.” Theron leans back once more, sharp and sudden and pulling her up and off her feet until she has to let him go to catch herself against the back of the chair. “Come here and let me say I’m sorry properly. You’re hauling my idiot ass out of the fire and there I go, questioning. You’d think I’d learn by now.”

The bridge seats really aren’t meant for two. “That isn’t necessary. Honestly.”

“I thought you liked my apologies.” He shifts his hands and- that is rather nice, actually. A little groveling never did any harm, did it?

She considers. “Hm. We really ought to go and pack, you know. For tomorrow.”

“You can pack in three minutes. I’ve watched you.”

“Might need a uniform for Voss-” and he’d better not pop the fastenings on this one; she taps his already-busy fingers as a gentle warning. Normally she doesn’t mind a lost button or three but she won’t have time to mend it before morning, not at this rate. “Leave me at least five.”

***

They’ve got hours to pack yet, even after they drag themselves back to the mess hall for dinner; her stomach’s been tied up in nervous knots all day and the little midday meal she’d forced herself to eat burned off quickly in the wake of Theron’s apologetic attentions. (They were both adrenaline junkies and she’d known that for ages, all the way back to Rishi, but it’d taken her far longer to realize as as often as he swore he didn’t want her to put herself on the front lines of things he was particularly enthusiastic when she did.

Not that she minds- she’s always had a thing for competence herself, just another of the ways they were too alike for their own good. They’ll run Odessen out of spare zippers before the war’s end at this rate.)

She leaves him in the hallway outside the mess. He hadn’t moved everything upstairs yet, only what he’d had in his gear when they came back from the last op, and he’d needed to make a stop at his own quarters to pick up a few more things before their last planning meeting with Lana- “I’ll be fine,” he’d said, nudging her shoulder as they finished up their caf. “I think I can handle a few steps down the hallway on my own.”

He’s right, of course. It’s only her paranoia getting the better of her. It does that too often nowadays, not quite as badly as it did in the old days with Hunter where every word, every action was a thing to be second-guessed but very nearly; she’s not quite sure, now, whether that gnawing doubt’s her own tendency to overthink or Valkorion’s meddling. Source notwithstanding she’s still alive, so she’ll let that question sit unconsidered for now. The less she thinks about him the quieter he stays.

As she rounds the corner toward her room she scans through her comm: half an hour until the meeting yet and a few messages from Oggurobb and Sana-Rae and one from Doctor Lokin- she’s got yet another treatment on the books, it seems, before he’ll sign off on a field mission. Damned overbearing old man; if she never sees the inside of that infirmary again it’ll be too soon-

The door to her quarters slides open in response to her code.

“Hello, Commander.” SCORPIO’s sitting in the dark, balanced almost primly on the nearer edge of the couch. Her head turns until the orange glow of her eyes illuminates that corner of the room, the sharp outlines of her chassis barely visible. “I’ve detected a security issue that requires your attention.”

“You might have sent a message.” Resisting the urge to turn and run- not that she’d really ever had reason to since that first meeting, but still, she doubts any of her protective programming made it past a few iterations- she taps the panel at her left to secure the room. “I like messages. I don’t like unexpected visitors.”

Was that an eyeroll? It’s hard to tell. “Messages can be intercepted. As you see.” One arm extended, SCORPIO gestures toward her commpad. “Given your failure to request that I transmit the data, I can only assume your negotiations went well?”

Ignoring the question as her wrist chimes, she scans the text as it loads and then looks up with one eyebrow raised. What is this? If they’ve got a contraband problem it’s the first she’s heard of it- and whoever the sender is, why’s he sending it to Theron instead of to Hylo or-

Ah.

Of course.

“It’s worth investigating. However-” clearing the screen, she folds her arms across her chest- “we agreed on limited access to the security network, if I recall correctly. I certainly don’t remember telling you to intercept personal memoranda.”

“You expressly permitted monitoring of the common area surveillance systems. If you’ve forgotten, I can replay our discussion.”

“No. I do remember that. But that doesn’t explain-”

“The version you read is the last of twelve drafts. Given that its author disabled the alarm in the sub-basement storage area and has been sequestered there for the last-” her eyes flick upward, barely perceptibly- “thirty-six minutes and eight seconds, I considered the deviation from our set parameters acceptable.”

It might be nothing. They’ve found their SIS infiltrator, almost certainly (or at least one of them, Void knows there might be more), but he might just want out of the transport lockdown and frankly if that’s all he wants they can work with that and he can fuck back off to Coruscant. It might even be legitimate. With as many new arrivals as the Alliance has had it’s not implausible that they’ve picked up a smuggler or two operating outside of Hylo’s oversight.

It might be nothing.

It’s probably something. “Theron hasn’t seen this?”

“Not yet. I will, of course, defer to your orders.” Head tilted, SCORPIO focuses on her once again. “Intercept? Or transmit?”

He ought to know about this. If this is what she thinks it is he ought to have a say in how it’s handled. But if his faith in Trant was misplaced after all, if she sends him walking straight into a trap and stars, if it’s someone he knows and he hesitates-

No. She won’t risk it. She can’t.

“Intercept.” Lifting her tactical belt from its place on the armor stand, she fastens it around her hips, slips her knife into its sheath and checks the little blaster already holstered in her waistband. “No reply, but do not let him see that message. And make sure he gets to the War Room safely- find some excuse or send an escort. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Yes, Commander.” SCORPIO rises, swift and silent. “Anything else?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve got a mole to hunt.”

***

The second sublevel ought to be deserted.

They haven’t quite finished it, the dormitory building beside the docking bay not yet at full capacity and the storage on the first floor still enough for their purposes. In another month or two that might change, but for now only the largest storeroom’s in use at all. Whoever’s down here now, he shouldn’t be. The room’s unsecured too, the keypad dark with a thin rim of space around it that shouldn’t be there either. Sloppy, then, or not afraid of being detected.

Probably the latter. She isn’t sure if that makes her more or less nervous.

One hand on her vibroknife, Nine pushes the door open slowly. Overhead, the light flickers; she looks for movement in the shadows cast by the stacks of crates. Nothing. She takes a step into the room and then another, lets her steps be heard-

And then she sees it, too late, and as the door snaps abruptly shut she can’t quite get her hands up before the garotte bites into her throat.

***

Author's Note: Still alive. Really. Since our last update, I have: officially gotten my new job (I start in July), put our house up for sale, finished a costume despite being ever-increasingly pregnant, gone to Star Wars Celebration, fought off two weeks of con crud, and become an aunt- in no particular order. As I suspect you can guess, what was lacking in that time span was... time, really. But here we are, back in the swing of things at last.

Up next: Extinction Burst. Play bitch games, win bitch prizes.

#equivalent exchange #inyri writes #swtor fanfiction #nine #theron shan #I LIVE BITCHES #imperial agent #cipher nine #it's only been... um like three months #thanks for your patience

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bnha-imagines-hcs · 6 years

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Hey dude! You're making great stuff! Could I please have B, K, and W from the fluff prompt for Aizawa, Hizashi and Spinner? You know Aizawa and Hizashi are my darlings, but I've recently developed a fondness for the lizard boi.Thank you so much!

( the lizard boi… is kinda cute. but what is UP with his SWORDs!? | also i fucking love kamojis… JesUs ChrisT )

fluff alphabet;

| aizawa; headcanons.

BREATH just exist… in his life… y ea h. tbh aizawa is just always A Huge Fan of u and the fact ur there in a nice way, so like??? yeethaw bby always a fan.

he a sucker for the whole boyfriend shirt thing, it’s just he doesn’t have a whole lotta clothes beside his professional look (dress shirt and slacks) and his actual working look (fuckin… pullover/overall/bodysuit thing lmfao wtf). you could,, ofc,,,,,, put on a huge frigging sweater - the kind commonly used as a dress - and like… thigh highs…. ehrem. (kitty pattern optional but super effective.) and just. hair down (or up) and just. and just.

be there.

also if u ever back him up or lead him in a fight, whether it’s frontline business or just you tryin ur best to evacuate a few peeps, well… that’ll do the trick. #synergy TM. he loves the fact ur partners, so anything that actively demonstrates/proves this is… multo bene.

honestly tho just breathe this hobo is a total softie and he so weak for love… so weak for love.

KISS he actually adores kisses, yet doesn’t indulge often - as with most things that bring him simple pleasure & relaxation, shouta straight up forgets. just- forgets about it.

it’s not small pecks and chaste things that he really adores - those are. kinda awkward, really. if it makes ya happy go for it, gestures, but. ehh. eh? eh.

long and involved kisses, that’s where it’s at. hands messing w/ ur hair as he draws you close or draws in close himself or both or (we’re very big on equality here), able to drown in dark & warm comfort, feeling u and keeping u locked away in his little corner of the world until you’re ready to go. these happen in private, if aizawa can help it. it’s his prize for bein’ a martyr all the damn time (cough needlessly hard on himself cough), so the rest of the world can fuck off and just let him have this.

he doesn’t initiate ‘long and involved’ in public; don’t mistake this for a lack of interest! he’s just being decent (●´∀｀●)

WILD CARD the only thing high-maintenance about shouta is the situational factors. he just wants to chill, have a home that is place & person, someone he can have intelligent conversation and comfortable silence with… just to share their lives without infringing on each other too much.he’s very… myeah. non-conventional? if you’re poly and he’s not, have fun with that it’s cool. if you’re busy a lot like him, that’s cool. if you wanna live separately, np. if you need to take time to yourself for a couple years, you do you.what he does demand is truthfulness. not that you don’t have secrets, but that you can just say ‘man i don’t wanna tell you’, rather than deceit. he’s a liiiiiiiittle sensitive about lies, even small ones.

2) also.. he loves to just read together. he doesn’t have a fireplace but if he did, it’d be readin’ by the fire.

| hizashi; headcanons.

BREATH no offence but this man’s usually short of breath, what with the constant noice production. the things about life that leave him breathless are what drive him, what fuel him - it’s always somewhere on his mind.if he ain’t livin’ his best life, he about to.

so honestly? hmmm. he’s most often kinda in that state, but – ohhh yeah. big droopy sweater + thigh highs used as sleepwear or just. just. on his s/o… pls sit on his lap. pretty please? pleeeassseee… frick.movie night and it’s warm enough and u come out in that and sidle up to him and oh ooohhhh b o y . he’ll just curl an arm arnd you and light his hand upon ur arm, real gentle, not pouncing or w/e just - enjoying tf out of that.

KISS mmmmmmmm, y e s. hizashi does not, in fact, believe in PDA - the term and general consensus suggests that displays of affection are somehow meant to be absent from day to day life, as though we ought hide our hearts and pretend to be cardboard.not exactly this guy’s thing.

where shouta will seek out privacy for a kiss with real feeling, hizashi– won’t. sure, if things get particularly heated he’ll suggest a break or a, hah, room (if others haven’t already). but as long as it’s warm loving mmmmm yes i love you mmmm hizashi feels there’s nothing improper about it and will give very few shits about commentary. you will end up in a bitchfight with him if u push it- kisses without wandering hands are not indecent, gdu, and any attempt to make he or his partner feel shame over it will be met with… vehement opposition.

alternatively if you are simply highly uncomfortable and respectful about it, ofc they can save it for when you’re not forced to be in the same room as them. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

every kiss is a real kiss \o/. hizashi positively glows under the weight of lil pecks and ‘i’m leaving’ / ‘i’m back’ / ‘i’m gonna miss u already’ / etc cheek kisses. very fond of the ‘let’s kiss every lil bit of ur face’ style. subscribed to ‘oh? you think this part of u is undesirable? KISSSSSS’ series. proud author of ‘3 hours of body worship is an aperitif, my love’.

WILD CARD swings and like, those old-school playgrounds for preteens - those are still the shit. hizashi loves lazing around on a swing, gently rocking back and forth while talking about everything or nothing. it’s easy, there’s literally no pressure whatsoever, it’s nostalgic.pushing each other on the swings?? chill as fuck. riding those errr those things w/ the big-ass springs underneath - also cool. oh my god riding those things err SHIT IDK WHAT IT’S CALLED ... ‘cable ways’ ..? The Shit.

just innocent play time pls. no stress & chill.

| spinner; headcanons.

BREATH. pls. pls play games w/ him and go wild - that’ll do it. if you rock out playing racing / gta / etc games, he’ll love watching u go go go and just. hang back. needlessly awe-struck. it’s just nice to share smth he loves, smth non-serious without strain, and have the person he likes enjoy themselves with it.

KISS well it’s scaly, we can’t deny that. ‘s not bad though, and that’s esp true if you’re more of a monster fucker than a coward. smooth, stumbly, and generally a lil awkward cuz he’s not at all used to ppl even ??? wanting ?? a lil smoochy smooch from him??? yeah.

eager, though. spinner’s got pretty normal dreams with yer picket fences and vidya games and maybe even a house that’s like inhabitable… yeah. a life where you can just reach out and touch and have it be affection rather than… disgust……… he’s always more affectionate than sexual - that’s more important to him, and his self-image is such that getting turned on doesn’t even really happen. and boy does he have an assortment of cute lil kisses as a result.

soft, careful pecks to test the waters even though you’ve responded well 50 times already - spinner’s someone who’ll ask for permission more often than not, wary of finding out something good has become something… not so good. it’s a hang-up he’ll not let go of soon. lingering ‘i can’t believe this is happening oh shit should i move? fuck am i-’ cheek kisses while he’s arched awkwardly to reach over the couch.sloppy ‘i can’t believe i’m this lucky but i’m too sleepy to question it’ morning / late night kisses.‘hey i was gone for a while and i can’t believe u still want me to kiss u!!! sc o rrrrrre and also oh god are u ALRIGHT.’ less restrained, embraces, face kisses, accidentally kissing ur eye. that happened.he has an excited ‘oh my god u made us hot chocolate’ kiss that stems from i’m living the fucking life finally ho god.

he’s just. so happy. so happy to have someone he likes and likes him back, smn he can just be domestic with. sure he does crazy shit, but he loves to.. be homey. and lots and lots of little, tentative kisses at every opportunity.

also mini hand touches, but he’s still working on that.

WILD CARD pls sit on his shoulders and let him scale rooftops like that. adrenaline junking together is The BeesKnees. u wanna get thrown?? the boi will throw u. u wanna cliff dive?? yeet let’s go. u wanna rollercoasterrrrrr rid es. s /? !? ?!? FUCK YES LE’S GO.

#deliciousvulpana #fluff #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #spinner #bnha spinner #league of villains #bnha #mha #bnh #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #present mic x reader #eraserhead x reader #spinner x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #long post

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haedraulics · 6 years

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Omgggg i didn’t know you liked hannibal!!! Which is your favorite episode?

JKSKSBFK oh anon i certainly do (if my hannibal tag has anything to say on that)

and WOW asking the tough questions anon i’m going to need to slump under a rock and contemplate that question for a hot hour lmao,, my guy i’m so in deep i have some season 1 scripts memorized and dream in jim hawkinson cinematography (YELLINGg)

so i guess i have to answer What Hannibal Episode is my Favorite Hannibal Episode? now……..

it’s a 60/40 split between the pilot 1x01 Aperitif and 3x04 Aperitivo, and i get so excited and emotional just recalling the episodes that i have to seriously compartmentalize this response anon

NO SPOILERS reasons why the pilot episode is my favorite episode:

(listing only the reasons the pilot is so strong and not the series as a whole)

-i’ve watched it over 30 times. that’s over 20hrs of my life collectively taken up by a single episode of broadcast television. help me please to elaborate, i’ve made dozens of friends, including several whole classes, give this show a shot. many of whom did make it to the end, what us fannibals would call a successful ‘hannivangelizing’. and because i’m an insufferably invested fan, i usually end up rewatching with them, hence the ludicrous amount of times i’ve watched this episode LMAO

-each time i appreciate something new– and that’s a crazy huge compliment, considering i get bored of shows VERY QUICKLY LOL

-it creatively and efficiently introduces the character of will graham. plainly- will is a stupendously complicated protagonist. his empathetic abilities are unusual in the crime genre- it’s not ‘hurr morally ambiguous detective can think like the killer because he’s dark and morally ambiguous hurr’, it’s ‘deeply troubled man wants to lead a moral life but is unable to control how deeply he can FEEL like the killer’.

the fact that this is never verbally explained at length is what’s amazing. ‘show, don’t tell’-the golden rule of all dramatic production is masterfully followed in the first scene, wherein will graham reenacts a murder, deduces evidence that keys into a previously undiscovered aspect of the crime, and then cut back to him in his classroom- BRILLIANT. all that, when they could have easily put some expositional words into jack crawford’s mouth and been done with it

expanding on will graham, the writers also take care so audiences know that the protagonist is, fundamentally, a man who wants to do good. no matter how fun exploring the possibility of dark!will is, it would ultimately be untrue (and less interesting) to say that will graham is an immoral character. they do this in the most lovely way, by bringing in The Dogs (💖😭). the scene where a stressed and exhausted will graham coaxes a stray dog into his warm family of other strays comes right off the heels of a brutal, violent depiction of a teenage girl being strangled in her own bed. it’s much needed brevity, and most importantly it compels us as viewers to care about our protagonist.

-it withholds the introduction of hannibal lecter. the show is called ‘Hannibal’ for bryan fuller’s sake- but the iconic, eponymous character is literally not even mentioned, let alone seen, until halfway into the premiere episode. lesser writers would have rushed headlong into getting as much lecter screentime as possible- after all this show was pitched on the basis of his pop culture notoriety, right? but no, the pilot patiently dedicates the first half of itself to endearing the lesser-known will graham to us, making lecter’s reveal all the more satisfying.

-the split second reaction expressions of hannibal and will’s first meeting, which in retrospect totally sell mads’ ‘love at first sight’ comment. again, smartly, the writers let the two throw quips at each other and put down that they are… strangely, on the same wavelength? and then immediately thwart that benevolence with hannibal’s gibberish probing.

-the hilarious editing of when the body is discovered in the field. how it intercuts between hannibal’s cooking and will’s mind building a clearer, more sympathetic profile of garett jacob hobbs by way of process of elimination. also on will’s mind- the ridiculously satisfying rehashing of ‘show don’t tell’ to illustrate the ticking of will’s mind. instead of him verbalizing the pieces coming together while staring blankly over elise nichol’s body, the camera closes into darkness and the suspended ragdoll of her body is sharply pierced by antlers. then he gets it- oh. “she was mounted on them, like hooks.” in a shaking, haunted voice. YES.

-the lovely, lovely rim lighting of their first meal together. the enigmatic line ‘the mongoose i want under the house, when the snakes slither by’ which younger me mistakenly interpreted as hannibal wishing for will’s safety, before realizing that mongooses are actually renowned snake-killers, and that hannibal has so early on recognized will’s potential as a weapon of righteousness. plus, hannibal making will genuinely crack up, and bryan fuller deciding to build an entire running visual metaphor on an otherwise throwaway line about teacups.

-and finally, the ending scene. the climactic moment. the archangel michael slaying satan. there’s so much right about this scene, and actually the wonderful @bonearenaofmyskull already has a much better punctuated analysis of it than this mess of my thoughts �� do check it out, it’s just brilliant.

i have a lot more to say but most of it is incoherent so that’s all fOLks,

i could definitely also produce a rambling shamble of a post about my intense feelings towards 3x04 and how much i adore season 3 as a whole, only if you guys want more of this grammatical travesty LMAO anyway, thanks for popping by anon!!! more hannibal asks would be great please i am PARCHED

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram #replies #anon

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ashlynncoy-blog · 6 years

Text

Misfire: Critical Condition Part XI

The tension builds, the plot thickens. The angst continues to be angsty and if y’all didn’t know me, you’d all want to strangle me.

Here, have a bitter cocktail.

Leia had promised herself she wouldn’t let herself be distracted by the thought Han Solo was somewhere in the building. It was a promise she’d broken at least twice a day in the month he’d been on Alderaan. Knowing he was nearby and not being able to see or to talk to him was driving her as close to crazy as she’d ever been.

Leia knew her mother had been checking in on him every now and again, but Breha Organa had been frustratingly tight-lipped as to his condition. Leia had more than once been tempted to ask, but the fear of hearing ‘he’s sworn to loathe and despise you for the rest of his days’ kept her from ever making the inquiry.

She knew where in the palace he’d been installed, thanks to some clever reconnaissance work she’d managed in the main kitchens, but she was rarely able to make an excuse to be in the vicinity. The few times she’d lingered in hopes of running into him, nothing had come of it.

She hated being this preoccupied, but she just couldn’t help it. She’d been able to focus when necessary—on details of the Hapan treaty and on the work she was doing on behalf of her mother. But even the slightest moment of down time had her thoughts turning to Han.

She knew how badly she’d messed things up.

And she also knew he could find his way around the palace. If he wanted to see her, he knew where to look. He hadn’t come looking.

Leia had mostly resigned herself to his avoiding her. So when, five weeks into his stay at the palace, she found him on her favorite balcomy after dinner, she wasn’t sure what to think. It was the first truly warm night of the spring, and all that day Leia had been looking forward to taking her evening cocktail out there. The leaf boats wouldn’t be on the lake this early in the year, but she loved to watch the late sunset over the mountains in the distance, and to sometimes dip her toes in the water as it lapped against the balcony’s edge.

She hadn’t noticed Han at first, as intent as she was on pushing aside the railing so she could sit on the ledge with her feet in the water. She was sure it would be too cold for comfort, but it was a first-of-spring ritual she’d kept all her life, and this year had been unusually chilly. She’d waited long enough. The sun was setting pink and orange behind the mountains, and Leia was going to make the most of the beautiful evening.

“Oh,” Han’s voice sounded from behind Leia.

The sound startled her. She had to grip the railing extra tight for a moment to keep from slipping on the slick stone of the balcony at the water’s edge.

“Hi,” she said. When she turned around to look, Han was lounging on one of the scrollwork chaises that had likely only been moved outside that day. He had an aperitif glass in his hand and a chagrined expression on his face.

“Sorry,” he offered. “I didn’t think.”

“About what?” she asked.

“It was really warm out today and I remembered this balcony being extra nice to watch the sun set from when it’s warm. I didn’t think it through that the reason I knew that was because of the time I came here with you and that it’s your favorite place to watch the sunset from and so you might be here. I can go.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she said. “And you don’t have to go. We’re adults, Han. There’s no reason we can’t sit on the same balcony.” Leia quickly turned from him and sat down on the edge. She slipped her shoes off her feet and hiked her skirt up above her knees. She was slow and deliberate as she moved to put her feet into the water, and barely got past her toes before she decided better of the act.

“Too cold?” Han asked as she gathered herself back up to standing.

“Much,” she replied. With her drink in one hand and her shoes in the other, Leia went to sit on another of the chaises facing the mountains. She set her shoes down beside the lounger and made herself comfortable, tucking her cold feet beneath the hem of her skirt.

Han was here, and that was huge. He’d said he was going to leave, but so far he hadn’t. She wasn’t about to pressure him into conversation, but even if they could sit beside each other in silence, that would be progress.

She sipped her drink quietly as she watched the sun set, mindful not to steal a glance in Han’s direction—no matter how badly she wanted to.

“Hey, Leia,” he said after a moment, “can I ask you something?” His voice was a little slurred. She wondered if he was drunk.

But the why didn’t matter. He was speaking to her, and that was something.

“You can,” she replied, taking a swallow of her drink in hopes of steadying herself.

“You didn’t get married,” he began.

“No,” she said, “I didn’t.”

“How come?” he asked. “And which one of you called it off?”

“It was mutual,” she replied, doing her best to keep her voice on an even keel. Somehow she’d known this conversation was coming—although when she’d pictured it, it had always been far, far in the future. She wasn’t sure how she was going to handle having it so soon. “But I’d have ended things even if he hadn’t been so amicable.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“I wasn’t in love with him,” she answered plainly. “And I wasn’t the right Queen Mother for the Hapes Consortium. I would probably have gone through with it had I felt right about one or the other. But the idea of spending the rest of my life personally and professionally unfulfilled just didn’t seem like the right one.”

“Good,” he said back.

“Good?”

“I’m glad you weren’t happy,” he said. “No,” he blurted in correction, “that didn’t come out right. I meant…” Han took a deep breath and then a sip of his drink. “Don’t ever get you r brains scrambled, Leia,” he said, “if you think I used to bungle what I was trying to say… well…. Anyway,” he went on, “what I meant to say was that since you weren’t happy, I’m glad you decided to do something about it. I mean… I’m glad you came away from that for your own reasons and not because he broke your heart or something. I’m glad you decided to do what would make you happy.”

“Thank you,” she said. There was a lot to unpack in that statement, and she wasn’t sure this was the time to do it. She wondered how he really felt about that—about all of it. But she didn’t want to push—didn’t want to pry. And more than anything she wanted to keep him talking.

“And anyway,” he added, a hint of mischief suddenly seeping into his voice, “you know I never liked that guy.”

Leia’s mouth fell open.

He was teasing!

This was the kind of thing he might have said about any man who’d ever dared flirt with her over their years of association. She couldn’t help but jab back a little.

“You barely even met him,” she said, “you never gave him a chance.”

“Yeah, well,” Han said back, “you did. And now you’re here and he’s not. So I stand by what I said.” He made a toasting motion with his glass and took a drink. Leia smiled in his direction before taking a drink herself.

“In truth,” she said, “Isolder is a kind, thoughtful, generous, accommodating, deferential,”

“Boring,” Han interrupted.

Leia shrugged, but laughed.

“You’re not wrong,” she agreed. “It was nice for a little while,” she said, “not being challenged on everything. But eventually, not being challenged at all started to feel like I was being patronized and kowtowed to in a way I did not find appealing.”

“I don’t know,” Han said, “maybe he genuinely agreed with you on everything.”

Leia scowled at him.

“Yeah, you’re right, Princess,” Han said, “there’s no way anyone would agree with you all the time. But you are awfully opinionated. Maybe he just didn’t want to get you going.”

“Get me going?” Leia was sure he was still teasing.

“Face it, your highness,” he said, “you’re a real pain sometimes.” There was an edge to his voice just then, like he was starting to mean what he was saying. “Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it. Or then again,” he added, standing up and shrugging as he took a step toward the palace doors, “maybe he really is that spineless or non-committal. Maybe,” he said just as he was crossing the threshold, “he only agreed to splitting up because that’s what he thought you wanted.”

#misfire verse #ashlynn's fic #sw au #sw fanfic #han x leia #angsty angst #i swear there will be better times #just not very soon

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