#but i think she's too strict on herself to ever allow that to happen- would have been interesting tho! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redbleedingrose · 1 year

Note

Girldad!Eris handling skinned knees 👀 and/or tantrums (toddlers are ROUGH)

OMG Girldad!Eris when one of his babes is hurt I can't!!!

Okay, I think Eris would absolutely be a coddler when it comes to the babes. He is constantly vigilant of the girls, and making sure to keep an eye out, especially if you are taking a family stroll through the forest. You love taking the babes out whenever you can to experience the beautiful weather of Autumn, and they love nature in general. Anyway, you are out on a hike as a family, the hounds are walking ahead of the babes, and you and Eris are strolling behind them allowing for them to explore and taking pauses as needed. Twila, ever the curious babe, sees a waterfall ahead on the trail and makes a run for it. I mean this babe is toddling her way as fast as she can on her tiny legs, and you call out to her, "Slow down sweets," And the poor babe turns around to look at you mischeviously as she continues to run, giggling to herself, before she just pummels into the ground, tripping over some branch. I think Twila picks herself up in a little bit of shock as you and Eris jog over to her to make sure she hasn't hurt herself. She is already looking down at her skinned knee with fat tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks up at Eris, who has knelt down to look at her eye level, and points at her knee whimpering. OMGGGGG Eris would be sooo upset He is rushing to pick up his little girl, kissing away her tears, and brushing her hair away from her face as he rests her on his hip. "You're okay my little beloved, don't cry." Marwa begins to whimper as tears line her eyes, scared her little twin sister has been hurt. Ugh she is the best sister I cannot So you pick her up too, comforting her, "Your sister is okay sweets, just a scrapped knee." And Eris just straightens out his other arm to take her into his grasp as well.

Now he is holding both girls close to his chest, as you inspect Twila's knee and rest your hand over, using some of your magic to heal the tender skin.

Then you kiss it ever so softly, "There, Mama's kiss makes it all better."

Twila sniffles a little, fisting at her tears as Eris continues to coddle her a little, but also reminding her, "This is why we don't run without looking sweets. Okay? Let's be more careful next time."

And both the girls are just nodding up at their papa as he nuzzles into their chubby cheeks, while you press your own kisses onto their soft skin.

ALSO omg tantrums!!! Toddlers are scary!

TBH, I think Marwa and Twila are not having tantrums very often.

They are spoiled by their papa, and he rarely says no to them.

They want a tree house??? They are getting a fucking tree house.

They like the jewelry on display in the market because it sparkles??? You best believe Eris is buying three matching sets just for his babes and mate.

They want new stuffies?? They get it the next day

They want more puppies?? Puh lease, like father like daughter...

Despite being spoiled, you and Eris do a very good job at making sure the girls know how privileged they are.

You both are absolutely taking them to the women and children shelters, and they absolutely love volunteering and handing out new toys to all their new friends. They are extremely kind little girls who love their people, just like papa.

I don't think that you shy away from punishment either. If these babes are misbehaving, Eris will be a strict father as he needs to be.

But he never ever is using the methods his father used.

You both use gentle parenting, and that works really well.

Most of the time at least.

But these are babes we are talking about, little toddlers who have big emotions and don't know how to deal with them properly sometimes, so they are going to have tantrums every once and a while.

This usually happens when the girls are pretty tired, haven't taken their nap, and are just overall cranky.

Dinner will be ready in less than an hour but the girls are wanting some sweets beforehand.

And they ask mama, you say no, reminding them that dinner is soon and they can have dessert after.

And then they try to be sneaky and ask papa who is sitting across the room from where you are, thinking he hadn’t heard your response, and because papa rarely says no to them.

So when they ask Papa, and he says no??

Immediate meltdown.

I mean kicking their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs, crying... it is not a pretty sight

At this point, both you and Eris are a little frustrated. The babes just haven't been cooperative today.

So you takes a deep breathe as you clench your jaw a little bit. They are just babes, you remind yourself silently. A sudden wave of love and affection is sent down the golden thread that wraps around your heart, filling you with a gentle warmth that causes a soft smile to tug on your face.

You look up to find you mate, your perfect fucking mate, who is already staring at you with a little mirth in his eyes.

You take a deep sigh of relief as Eris walks over to your babes who are having their tantrum, knowing he is about to take care of everything. Like he always does.

He sits down on the floor, next to the crying babes, before picking up his arms, opening them wide, waiting silently, patiently, like the perfect father he is.

The girls, who are still crying, launch themselves into Papa's arms, cuddling close into his chest as he strokes their hair, reminding them to take deep breathes.

After taking a couple of deep breathes, the girls are able to calm down enough for him to set the babes in his lap, "That wasn't very kind girls, we don't throw tantrums like that do we?"

They sniffle while trying to come up with excuses, "But papa..."

And he listens intently to all of their thoughts, allowing for them to express themselves, nodding along as you make your way towards the now settled babes.

You sit down next to them, and Marwa climbs out of her papa's lap to settle onto yours, snuggling into your chest, wanting Mama’s warmth and comfort.

He gently reminds them, "Dinner will be ready in an hour, we don't want to spoil your appetite with sweets, my darlings. And papa didn't say no to sweets, he said you would be able to have them after dinner right? You are allowed to have big emotions my little beloveds. But I want you to be able to express yourself calmly, there is no need for tantrums."

And then he goes explains to the girls how they can express themselves better, without screaming or throwing themselves onto the ground.

He encourages them to take deep breathes when they have big feelings, and to do their best to explain it to mama or papa, because they are always willing to listen.

And mama and papa will always take the time to explain their reasoning to their perfect little girls.

You nod along, agreeing with your mate and husband, "I think our babes are just tired. But because you threw a tantrum when you know you could've expressed yourself calmly girls, I think for sweets, you will share a piece of pie between yourselves instead of having an individual piece. Okay little beloveds?"

And they sniffle again, both whispering out small "okay, I'm sorry mama. I'm sorry papa."

Eris just tugs you three close to him, pressing both of his babes into his chest and you into his side. Kissing their tiny foreheads and pecking your lips.

You smile down at your now calm babes, "We forgive you. Always."

Anyways, so sorry this was so long, but I loved this ask!!! Truly, Eris is the best papa to his little girls and you are the best mama.

#rose rambles #rose answers #eris x fem!reader #girldad!eris #eris vanserra acotar #acotar eris #eris x reader #marwa and twila #sorry this was so long

96 notes · View notes

gettothestabbing · 5 months

Note

Putting in another Christian Science ask: what kind of position does Mary Baker Eddy have? As in, are you required to accept all of her pronouncements, and if not, what's the criteria for what isn't and is accepted? Is she a prophet, or just the person who figured out Christian Science?

This is one of the things that people wonder most about Christian Science, and which also invites comparison to Scientology, which during its founder's lifetime was constructed around his personality. First off, no one ever prays to her. She is not an intercessory figure. We are not required to have all the opinions Mrs. Eddy had as a person, but we do follow all her writings. The only writings of hers we do not follow are her older drafts of Science and Health. While they are historically and theologically notable, Christian Scientists only follow the final, authorized 1910 edition of the book, in accordance with her wishes. She also wrote a lot of poems. 7 of them are the lyrics of some of our most beloved hymns. But we do not go to her poetry for theological instruction.

Mrs. Eddy held a few titles in her lifetime, notably Discoverer and Founder, but the ones that have officially endured past her death are Leader and Pastor Emeritus. I think the term prophet would be appropriate too; I certainly consider her such. But most CS people would stick only to the titles she allowed in her lifetime. They do this out of respect for her heightened spiritual understanding.

For those unaware, a brief explanation. [Well as brief as I, the perpetually long-winded person, can be.] Mary Baker Glover Eddy (1821-1910) was an American woman who had poor health and bad luck in marriage for the first half of her life. After a bad fall on ice in 1866, attending doctors told her that death was imminent and they could do no more for her. She asked to be given her Bible to read, and turned to the gospels. Reading a story of one of Christ Jesus' healings (which one has been long forgotten, even by Mary herself), she soon rose from the bed, and, after a short relapse later that day which she treated through the same method, she was fully healed of the injury. She spent the next three years completely focused on reading Scripture and praying to try and figure out how the healing had occurred.

The rest of her life was devoted to writing Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, a text Christian Scientists hold with the Bible as central to our faith and practice. Though first published in 1875, Mrs. Eddy continually revised and worked on this book for the rest of her life, with the final edition coming out the year she died. She always described this as being " a scribe under orders." She hoped that all Christian churches would read and accept the ideas in her book and that it would leaven the whole of Christianity and elevate worldwide Christian practice. This did not happen, and while some considered her ideas helpful to their understanding, many more clergy and Christians were openly hostile or declared it unchristian.

So eventually Mrs. Eddy founded her own church, now known as the Church of Christ, Scientist. In her lifetime, the Mother Church in Boston was built and then extended to fit the rapidly growing congregation. There was a room built in the original edifice called the Mother's Room, specifically for her to use and take rest in before or after giving a sermon. Many Christian Scientists called Mrs. Eddy "Mother" during her lifetime. She wrote against this several times, but among the people who worked in her household, she was less strict about this affectionate title. No one uses it today, and it would be weird and frowned upon if they did.

After her three years of study, Mrs. Eddy increasingly became famous as a healer. People would be healed passing her on the street, having only made eye contact with her, or while attending her lectures and sermons. But most healing accounts were the result of direct conversation with her or the patient requesting her to come. There are hundreds if not a thousand or more accounts of her healing works, and the Mother Church (the central governing body of CS) works hard to preserve, retrieve, and triple-check the authenticity of all such accounts.

Mrs. Eddy is deeply revered by Christian Scientists today as in her lifetime. I would never deny that there were personality-cult elements in the first generation of CS believers. It was easy, due to personal love for her and to her many healing works, for early students to make the mistake of focusing on her personality and imagine her as more than she said she was. Some students would lavish her with praise that made her uncomfortable and was theologically inappropriate, such as calling her Christ come again or claiming (as Bliss Knapp famously did in his 1946 book) that she was the woman crowned with stars from Revelation.

The Bliss Knapp book, The Destiny of the Mother Church, was controversially printed and briefly distributed by the Mother Church in 1990, which caused a minor schism within CS. The Church Manual has a section about Incorrect Literature, which this book clearly violated:

No Incorrect Literature. Sect. 11. A member of this Church shall neither buy, sell, nor circulate Christian Science literature which is not correct in its statement of the divine Principle and rules and the demonstration of Christian Science. Also the spirit in which the writer has written his literature shall be definitely considered. His writings must show strict adherence to the Golden Rule, or his literature shall not be adjudged Christian Science. A departure from the spirit or letter of this By-Law involves schisms in our Church and the possible loss, for a time, of Christian Science. (Manual of The Mother Church, Mary Baker Eddy, p. 43:21)

It was done for monetary reasons, which the Directors admitted, and has only recently been removed from publication. Bliss Knapp is one of the few students who both knew Mrs. Eddy personally and who proclaimed such heretical statements about her without being rebuked by her (as she was already dead) or being excommunicated. But this is purely due to how he set up his will and this book in trust, leading to the complicated monetary/theological situation in the 1990s. Had she read the book, Mrs. Eddy would have never allowed it to be published.

There are a lot of directions this could go, but I think the best way to explain Mrs. Eddy's ongoing role in the church is to tell you about Augusta Stetson. Augusta was an immensely popular preacher of Christian Science. Trained as a professional elocutionist, she converted to CS after hearing Mrs. Eddy speak in 1884. Although Mrs. Eddy disliked Stetson's style of preaching, she still sent her in 1886 to help found a church in New York City. Stetson's personal magnetism led her to develop her own cult of personality and enormous influence within this branch church. It became the largest and richest of all the branch churches.

Even when preaching was replaced with reading the weekly Bible Lesson [explained in a later paragraph], Stetson would not stop preaching until Mrs. Eddy personally told her to, and this change did not lessen her absolute control over that church congregation. Stetson held the First Reader position for so many years that as a direct result, the Church Manual specifically includes a term of three years for readership. Mrs. Eddy cared for Stetson personally, and for twenty years she tried to alternately praise and rebuke her into correct behavior, but she was not stern enough to cause Stetson to truly repent. Stetson saw herself, and soon styled herself to others, as Mrs. Eddy's successor. Mrs. Eddy and Stetson had their final conversation in 1908. Stetson appeared repentant, but the next year, she wrote a letter to Mrs. Eddy speaking of her in deifying, heretical terms, at which point Mrs. Eddy sharply rebuked her and asked for the Board of Directors of the Mother Church to investigate her. When Stetson heard of Mrs. Eddy's death, she declared that Mrs. Eddy would rise from the grave, appear to her personally first, and then appear to the rest of the world. She repeated this claim the rest of her own life, while running an offshoot of CS centered around her 'Church Triumphant,' noted as being anti-CS, anti-Catholic, anti-Semitic, and promoting protofascist ideas and Nordic supremacy at various points in the 1920s. [None of these elements were ever present in CS theology or literature, naturally.]

I think that many people unfamiliar with Mrs. Eddy would assume that she was a person like Stetson. Mrs. Eddy never claimed to be a second Christ, the woman in Revelation prophecy, a reincarnation of any Biblical figure, or any part of the Godhead. Students who claimed this were rebuked universally. We refer to Mrs. Eddy as the Discoverer, Founder, and Leader of Christian Science. The discovery and founding are complete. They are not perpetual, as Christian Science recognizes no successor to Mrs. Eddy's work or position. She retains the titles of Leader and Pastor Emeritus.

Partly due to students like Stetson, who both wanted her position for themselves and attempted to flatter or deify her inappropriately, and partly because of the many offshoot spiritual movements that tried to appropriate her ideas without giving her credit for introducing them and tried to remove the Christian theology that gave those ideas backing, Mrs. Eddy was very firm on remaining Pastor Emeritus after her death. She often said that those who sought her [as a person] would find her in her writings. She also spoke out emphatically against Spiritualism in her writings and speeches. Our theology holds that there are no ghosts, nor can there be any communication between the dead and the living. Any Christian Scientist who claimed or claims to be in communication with Mrs. Eddy personally after her death is rebuked or excommunicated, depending on the extent of the claim made. Her leadership of the church is purely in her writings, in the ideas she gave us "as a scribe under orders."

But, to be fair, there is a lot of respect and interest in Mrs. Eddy's personality anyway. She was a warm, loving person. She was very strict about cleanliness. She loved ice cream. There are a multitude of church-sanctioned biographies about her, most of which I've read, some of which were even part of my homework for Christian Science Nursing training. Growing up, I had a children's book about her life.

Many CS churches also have one or more portraits of her, usually as an older woman with a serene expression. And because more CS churches have portraits of her than of Christ Jesus, I have been asked more than once if this means that we see her as a replacement for Jesus. To this I would say that Christ Jesus lived long enough ago that CS people are uncomfortable choosing a portrait of him, whereas Mrs. Eddy lived recently enough that we know for sure what she looked like. But I admit that it does invite suspicions of a cult of personality more than anything else.

In turning her church away from personal preaching by establishing the system of Bible Lessons and readership, Mrs. Eddy denied power to those who would seek, like Stetson, to take the theological rudder of the church away from her writings. Bible Lessons are compiled by a committee within the Mother Church three years in advance. There is one every week of the year, in a rotating system of subjects set out by Mrs. Eddy, so that we have each subject twice a year. The Sunday sermon is always a reading of this weekly Bible Lesson, with the First Reader reading the Bible citations and the Second Reader reading those from Science and Health. The books are meant to be read together, but the Bible always comes first. Wednesday sermons are compiled by the First Reader, but they must purely consist of quotations from these two books, which we collectively consider our Pastor.

Mrs. Eddy as Pastor Emeritus is similarly in a position in our church from which she cannot be removed. To pretend that CS owes her nothing would be wrong, and would inevitably lead us theologically astray. Every splinter group off of CS makes this mistake, and all of them lack the power to heal that CS demonstrates. Mrs. Eddy learned very early that the only way to heal was to understand that it was not a personal power. Only by knowing God as the only power and healer could she see others be healed while praying for them.

Sometime in the 1870s, she did take personal pride in having healed a little girl. When she reached home, a message had come saying the child had relapsed. In grief and repentance, she fell to her knees and spent the next several minutes repenting of this self-centered pride and giving the glory back to God. Soon, another message came from the family saying that the girl was perfectly well.

It was a lesson swiftly and absolutely learned, and it shows how Mrs. Eddy saw herself. She was the scribe under orders, no more and no less. To finish up, here's what she said in her Message to the Mother Church for 1901:

Finally, brethren, wait patiently on God; return blessing for cursing; be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good; be steadfast, abide and abound in faith, understanding, and good works; study the Bible and the textbook of our denomination; obey strictly the laws that be, and follow your Leader only so far as she follows Christ. Godliness or Christianity is a human necessity: man cannot live without it; he has no intelligence, health, hope, nor happiness without godliness. (Message to The Mother Church for 1901, Mary Baker Eddy, p. 34:20–28) (emphasis added)

#personal #asks #inbox #pers com #Christian Science #Mary Baker Eddy #I'm sorry to be so long-winded but I really want to be thorough especially when it comes to CS #cult of personality #Augusta Stetson #Bliss Knapp #long post

5 notes · View notes

yiiyiiwrites · 9 days

Note

Hi, I was just wondering how did the overachieving Kooks become burnt out? What happened or didn't to make them like that?

thank u

Some of them I kinda put in what happened, but will expand on that. [Prompts here]

JJ's overachieving girl: She didn't get much attention at home from her family and she tried to excel in everything she could to earn their attention. She just wanted to be seen, from a large family and her sisters naturally have talents that propel them further than her.

So after while she's had enough, then she finds out her kook boyfriend is cheating on her and she ends up having a full on explosive fit of rage. This then gets her banned from the country club and the wrong attention from her family. So she gives up trying to get it.

Pope's overachieving girl: I didn't actually write how she burnt out, but she was wrongly accused of cheating on an essay at school. It's like a whole thing, because she can't prove it either. It's her word against the popular girl who stole her work and gave it in before her.

Luckily she does have supportive parents, who know she would never do that and trust her enough to take her word for it. There is a lot of judgement though from the Kooks, she's labeled a cheater and ridiculed for it. Which is why she keeps herself inside, but then Pope and the fan account they run help her.

Kiara's overachieving girl: Eldest daughter of workaholic parents, she had to pick up the slack at home and look after her younger siblings. Trying to juggle school, taking her siblings to clubs and getting homework done etc. She doesn't really have much time for herself. Then her parents get her a weekend job (saying she should be grateful for the opportunity and good for college apps).

This is obviously a lot for anyone and she overworks herself to the point she's sick. So summer rolls around and she takes a couple weeks out to get better. The internship she was offered is declined because its a competitive slot, so it goes to the next person who can be there for the start date. For her though its a blessing in disguise, as it allows her to do the things she's never got a chance to.

John B's overachieving girl: She's trying to gain her father's attention who is always travelling for work. Don't think she'll ever give up trying to get his attention though, she looks up to him a lot.

Meeting John B was by chance and they are both lonely, so they easily fall into each others company. Brings out her curiosity and adventurous nature.

Rafe's overachieving girl: Well, she's very much like Rafe. Comes from a rich family like his and its ingrained in her that she will go into the same business they do. She's from a very strict family, what they say goes and there's no room for anything she would like to do.

She does get out of it though. Uses college as a way out, just didn't count on meeting Barry who offered her an out. Her new found environment isn't far off from her family. There's a familiarity that feels normal, but there's that added edge of danger to remind she got out. Meeting Rafe feels like fate though for her, there's too many similarities between them.

Hope you like :) and if you have any more requests send them in - Yiiyii

5 notes · View notes

hauntedheroines · 9 months

Note

How about ♫ for Fuchsia and Steerpike? 💕

Oh you wonderful person <3

I chose to analyse the song below because follows their story in a perfect chronological order.

For my full Fuchsia x Steerpike playlist click the link.

I can analyse other songs for them as well (please please please ask for more)

Say When - The Fray

I see you there, don't know where you come from Unaware of a stare from someone Don't appear to care that I saw you and I want you

And everyone is rising to meet you, to greet you Turn around and you're walking toward me I'm breaking down and you're breathing slowly You say the word and I will be your man, your man

During countless useless rituals which the royal Family is bond to attempt, people remember Fuchsia exists if only to pay respect and proper courtesy to a Goran. Fuchsia tolerates it as she was taught to. Her mind is not on them anyway. It’s on the last minutes of ceremony when deccurum will be less strict and she will be allowed short but exciting moments of talk with a certain kitchen boy, her clown of the clouds. His snaky face would never betray it, but she is the only one in the room he is craving to see as well.

We're coming close and then even closer We bring it in but we go no further We're separate, two ghosts in one mirror, no nearer

He seeks her in her solitude. He finds her mostly in the woods, singing made-up nursery rhymes to herself, spining her wild hair over her exposed shoulders from clothes that are too big for her. They speak, but barely talk. It seens like there is a bridge between them they can never fully cross. Even when she starts to agree to secretly meet him in the castle, the years of neglect or outright abuse and never knowing intimacy makes them both distrustful and cluesless on how to procced. Even Steerpike, who takes the most iniative, acts by-the-book on the rules of romance: flowers, poems, pets. A safe path to trade upon. A shiny garmet to distract Fuchsia from the otherwise lack of grace of her companion and vile nature that she is certain to spurn if she ever sees it.

They came from different worlds and yet were the same. He is a kitchen boy and she is a princess. By convenience they shouldn’t be together, but convenience always seems to work against them. The princess, in the most unpredictable way, is an outcast whom Gormenghast finds no use for and thefore is left to fed for herself. And although Fuchsia has not experience abuse like Steerpike has perse - as her material needs were being met - she was not cared for either. Unable to wear the crown for being a woman, she is worthless in the eyes of Gormenghast, and even her family makes her aware of it.

Say when and my own two hands Will comfort you tonight, tonight Say when and my own two arms Will carry you tonight, tonight

The first time Fuchsia embraces him it's by Nanny's grave. Estelle Daniel, Gormenghast’s producer, described the grave scene as follows:

"I think you understand in this scene that they actually do love each other. You know there is a real chemistry there. In a way, if Fuchsia were to have said, 'Look, let’s just get on a white horse and ride away from the castle together and just be lovers,' I think there are moments where Steerpike might almost have agreed."

Come across you lost and broken You're coming to but you're slow in waking You start to shake, you still haven't spoken, what happened

She asked to see beneath the mask, but turned away from him.

They're coming back and you just don't know when You want to cry but there's nothing coming They're gonna push until you give in or say when

He suffocates a cry after she leaves the room which he spend days decorating for her. Maybe it would feel good to cry, but after sucessfully holding it back for many years, he has forgotten how to. Remembering his purpose renews his resolve: "I'm gonna make them wish they were never born, or at least not born where they were."

Dr. Prunesquallor, Mr Flay, and his little lordship Titus are under his trail and soon everyone will know the real Steerpike and declare him a public enemy.

Now we're here, and it turns to chaos Hurricane, coming all around us Double crack throws you back from the window, you stay low

Everyone is talking about it. Steerpike, the snake - killed her aunts, and now Mister Flay. Steerpike, the runaway, is threatening the monarchy, her mother and brother. Steerpike, the rat - he is hiding in the dirts, in between the walls of Gormenghast. We must find him.

Turns out he is the one who finds her, by the window of her secret attic. This is where their story began and where it ends.

It all began with a man and a country Every plan turns another century Around again, another nation fallen Maybe God can be on both sides Of the gun, never understood why Some of us never get it so good, so good Some of this was here before us All of this will go after us It never stops until we give in

Jonathan Rhys Meyers described Steerpike's presence in Gormenghast akeen to being in The Truman Show: You can't get away. Most of you can do is control it. When Fuchsia and Steerpike dream of shaking these archaic walls or just being free from it, they are talking about fighting a strict unmoavable centuries old system of rigid hierarchy and nonsensical traditions that have made people living under it borderline eschizophrenic.*

*I know the characters over-the-top and theatrical manners can be seeing as such or as an artistic choice by the director, but I think it can be both

Barquentine tells the Queen herself that "even kings come and go - gormenghast remains". Gormenghast is an entity on itself, a giant monster and every character is in it's belly.

Steerpike could be the one to break the social order. He told her once he could not understand how there should be poor and rich. She dreamed of a shinny hero, she saw him now as a villain - he could be both. They can break the wheel together, because he is stronger now. With her, he is. For her, he is.

Thank you for your request <3

SEND ME A ♫ WITH THE NAME OF A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU A SONG THAT FITS THEM PERFECTLY

#Gormenghast #Fuchsia x Steerpike #Villain x Heroine #Ask memes

6 notes · View notes

lightningandfireinmybones · 10 months

Note

i was about to sleep but i can’t get it out of my head. just the flawless character and time period transition between tdopom and heaven knows…and what i mean by that is….

i think tdopom valaena, although constantly wants to escape her fate, subconsciously if accepts overtime. she’ll still put up a fight and say that she’s not pleased with any of it but i think deep down she accepts it. there’s obviously not many options for her to escape it- she’s in too deep with aemond to ever let go. and i think after jace even though she doesn’t want to be the heir and looks for other options, i think she feels the responsibility on her to be the one. tdopom being hotd/got era obviously you’re dealing with more sexism and knowing the fate of other targaryen women. she can delay it all she wants, but it’s going to happen eventually

meanwhile. heaven knows valaena has the opportunity to change and shape her own fate. the modern au allows for her to decide who she is going to be and i think that’s why we see a more self destructive version of her here. she has to experiment to figure out what her fate is, in tdopom it’s all planned out for her (even if she doesn’t like it). thinking of this chapter and her hesitation and fear of having kids…to me it’s different than tdopom. when she’s pregnant in the tdopom and baela offers the leaf as a solution, her not taking it is unsurprising to me. she accepts her fate there (even if she denies it to aemond) but heaven knows valaena would be eating pounds of the leaf if offered. heaven knows valaena has a million lives she can lead and she wants to try them all out. tdopom valaena although wanting to escape her fate, is unable to due to her time period of her story.

now i just have to believe that heaven knows aemond and her haven’t discussed kids until this moment happens. he’s obviously all in and has been for quite some time. i think that he thinks that she knows he wants kids (outside of the breeding kink) because of how serious he is about her. he thinks it’s pretty obvious what he wants, but valaena obviously doesn’t know that.

that concludes my wild deep dive into why it makes sense that the same character would have different reactions to being pregnant/talking about kids in different au’s 🫡

BESTIE I CANT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR THIS

because you got exactly what I was hoping to convey with this different versions of Valaena!!!

Tdopom Valaena chafes at the boundaries placed on her, but is ultimately in a system she doesn’t dare escape from, in a societal place that she ends up embracing to come into power (partially through duty and honor and the deaths of everyone above her kn the line of succession and partially through aemond convincing her to seize power for herself), but she always has been somewhat resigned to how her life will go, even if she resists it

Meanwhile,,, modern au Valaena was spoiled by her mother, protected viciously by aemond and her brothers and has all the fuck you money in the world to do whatever she wants, to find who and what she wants to be

And unfortunately!!! Her self destructive tendencies explode without a strict system to confine her in, as she has to spiral out to find a way back in to who she wants to be

Valaena in heaven knows is trying to find something even if she can’t figure out what it is her, but that’s the beauty!! She gets to explore and travel and be a menace to explore the possibilities of her life!!

(And you’re right regarding the possibilities of terminating pregnancy differences between them- modern au Valaena said NOPE)

But then we have aemond, our other emotionally stunted character, who thinks that he’s been perfectly clear about what he hopes their future will be like,,, but Valaena needs to hear it, needs to have that discussion and those clear boundaries, so we run into conflict as they both fail to communicate the way they need

Drama and love, whomst will win,,, I love my stupid murder couple

Thank you again bestie there is nothing I love more than someone taking the time to think about the story I’ve written and message me about it!! Makes me whole week!!!

#bestie bless you #we love modern versus tdopom Valaena discussions #aemond is what he is but the different expectations for women really play a number on valaena #ask #tdopom fic #heaven knows fic

5 notes · View notes

imprvdente · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐒: @governmentofficial “I had it under control. You didn’t need to do that.”

"No. No, you did not have it under control."

Mycroft was at his wit's end. The last thing he had ever wanted was to be a bloody babysitter when he was supposed to be working, but apparently the President had a new favourite and said favourite wanted to be a Gamemaker. The Head Gamemaker was apparently too busy to play the role of educator, and so Mycroft had been instructed to take over - not that he had much time to spare himself.

Technically, he wasn't even a Gamemaker himself. Mycroft had a complicated job. He was something of a political mastermind, drifting between departments and meddling with every single one of them in order to ensure that everything was running smoothly in relation to what was occurring elsewhere. Despite that, he had a certain talent for the Games. To him, it was all a living game of chess - one to be tactically employed to control the masses and manipulate them into whatever point of view was best at the given moment.

Naturally, he wasn't thrilled about his new duty. He didn't like his new charge - 'Fish', an exceedingly stupid name - but there was a silver lining. Because she was only interested in a very small element of what he did, he didn't actually have to spend that much time with her. Mycroft would explain a concept, set her a task, and then come back later to check that nothing had gone wrong. When Fish did well, it was a blessing. However, she was a teenager that currently held the attention of the President which, naturally, meant that she thought that she could do no wrong despite her lack of actual experience - and cockiness was never a beneficial element when working on delicate matters.

Mycroft had had enough of it. He'd tried his best to be 'nice', but enough was enough. In his opinion, what Fish needed was somebody to tell her the blunt truth - which was exactly what he was about to do.

Irritated, he rubbed the side of his head for a moment with one hand before he sucked in a deep breath between his teeth and fixed the other with a firm glare. "You will not have it under control until you understand your place in this world. Right now, you're a pet. You're a dog that somebody had taught a few tricks to. 'Oh look, the puppy is cannibalizing its litter mates, isn't that unique? Let's keep it around and see what other entertaining things it can do!'. You're not a person - you're a spectacle, and you're a spectacle that doesn't know anything."

It was clear that Mycroft had been holding back some thoughts because his rant did not stop there. He jabbed a finger in Fish's direction. "You need to realise that you may be the prize-winning favourite with a rosette pinned to your chest right now, but that never lasts. If you don't start listening and learning, you will end up a stray on a District street the second somebody new turns the heads of those in power - because that will happen sooner or later. It always does."

And what she also needed to realise was that her actions now reflected back onto Mycroft, so there was no damn way that he was going to allow her to make any mistakes on his watch.

Fish came from a strict upbringing. As a Lecter, she had always known there was a certain standard expected of her, a level of excellence that she consciously and carefully strived to achieve. And if her father was kind and loving, he still expected nothing but the best from her.

But no one, no one, had ever talked to her like that before. And she knew the frustrating reality of hierarchy, she knew that it was Mr. Holmes’ job, to train her. She even knew that in itself, having been given such an important man for a teacher was proof that she had gained a good status for herself.

And yet, as he jabbed his finger at her, she couldn’t help but think how easy it would be, to kill him. She’d grab that annoying little finger of his and break it, yes, that’d be the first step. Then, she’d take the pencil laying on the table next to her, and she’d shove it in his eye. The right eye. And then, the left eye. Maybe she’d rip his tongue out with her teeth too, like she had done to the last standing tribute in the arena (last one but her). A dog? Oh she could show him how a dog would act. She could show him how feral she could get.

That was the problem, really, with throwing teenagers into a bloodbath. And yes, to Fish, violence had always been a second nature. A controlled one. But there was something exhilarating about knowing people had cheered her on as she ripped people to pieces.

But of course, she was reasonable, and she had been raised well. And if President Snow himself was quite happy to throw preys to the Lecter, so they’d kill and cook them for him, she knew that it wasn’t a free murder pass. She hated to disappoint President Snow almost as much as she hated to disappoint her father.

Besides, she knew she still had to learn. He was right, her fame and status were still fleeting, and she could not afford to let anyone else beat her to the spot. But his tone! That infuriating, rude tone of his. Still, she took a small breath, and found some peace in her murderous idealizations. There, she was a lot calmer now.

“I assure you sir, I am quite aware that my current status in the Capitol is a fragile thing,” she replied politely, and she even had the good sense of looking at her desk and not directly into his eyes, “and I would never try to abuse the trust President Snow has in me.”

It was satisfying, actually, to be so calm despite the insults thrown at her.

“I didn’t mean to sound presumptuous.”

#&(Mycroft)#Fish (Lecter)#Hunger Games AU #(queue)#governmentofficial

11 notes · View notes

daxwritesstories · 1 year

Text

Dire: Chapter 10 - The Baseline

Word Count: ~6K

Warnings: drug use, fantasy hypnosis, death, rape, underage(implied), suicide attempt, vomit

“Has it kicked in yet?” Ace asked.

Cyra looked up at the femme. They were in the main bedroom together, Ace sitting on the bench in front of the bed and Cyra sitting on the floor.

“How do I know?” Cyra asked. She felt a little different, slightly more relaxed, but it was still hard to tell.

“You should feel more suggestable,” Ace explained.

Cyra shrugged in response. That was also hard to tell. She would do anything Ace asked of her anyway.

The femme appeared to be thinking, tapping his long nails against the wooden part of the bench. Cyra waited patiently for him to speak. It wasn’t like she had anything to talk about anyway.

“Cyra, look at me.”

Cyra obeyed, staring into Ace’s eyes. The femme stared back unblinkingly, making her wait for the next instruction.

“Hold your breath,” he ordered.

That was something Ace almost never made her do. He knew that not being able to breathe was one of her deepest fears.

For some reason, Cyra did it without hesitation. She never broke her gaze and didn’t allow her lungs to move one bit until Ace told her to stop.

He took his sweet time to do so, watching and listening carefully for any sign of her breathing. He waited so long that Cyra’s vision started to fade. She couldn’t let herself breathe though, something in her mind was blocking her from it.

Eventually Ace smiled and told her to stop. Cyra inhaled loudly and struggled to catch her breath.

“I think it’s working,” Ace concluded.

He picked up the ruby necklace that was lying next to him on the bench. He held it out to Cyra and she stared at it, already dazed.

“I need your complete focus while we do this. You have to follow my voice no matter what happens. Don’t ever let yourself stray somewhere else, only do and think what I tell you to,” Ace instructed. His voice was serious and strict. Cyra already knew how dangerous this was but the femme’s tone reinforced that.

Cyra looked up at him and nodded. Of course she was going to listen to him no matter what, it’s what she always did.

Ace took the necklace and hung it in the air in front of Cyra’s face. Her eyes followed the ruby in the center as it began to swing from side to side. She knew how to do this, it was almost second nature by now.

“You know how to do this, Cyra,” Ace said, repeating her thoughts. “Empty your mind for me. There’s no need to think for yourself right now. Empty your head of any and all thoughts, let my voice replace them.”

Completely focused, Cyra followed the instructions, hanging onto Ace's every word. If a thought began to form in her mind, she abandoned it immediately. Nothing that she could think about could even compare to the way Ace’s voice sounded. It rang through her head like a beautiful song.

“I’m more important than anything else. You’re listening to everything I say as if it were your own thoughts. Everything I say is what you’re thinking now. Everything I think is now what you’re thinking. I am your mind.”

As Ace spoke, another voice slowly crept into Cyra’s head, becoming clearer as she sank deeper. The voice sounded like Ace too, but it was a whisper that came from the back of her mind.

“Cyra is mine,” the voice whispered. “She’s always been mine. Mine to use. Mine to control. Mine to destroy.”

The second voice made Cyra shiver as it spoke. It was saying things she always wanted to hear Ace say.

“You’re sinking deeper,” Ace continued. “Deeper than you ever have before. Your vision is fading. You’re closing your eyes.”

Cyra felt her eyes slowly shut, still swinging back and forth beneath her eyelids.

“Let yourself sink into the void,” Ace instructed, and she did. She had no choice in the matter. The darkness engulfed her and she relaxed into it, trusting it.

The second voice spoke again, this time even more clearly. “Cyra is so good. Her mind wants to do everything I say. She’ll follow me wherever I lead her.”

“You want to do everything I say. You need to,” Ace said, echoing the voice. “Go further into the void. You’ll never get lost because you’ll always follow my voice.”

Cyra couldn’t feel her body anymore, it was long gone.

“She's almost gone,” the second voice whispered.

“You’re almost there, Cyra,” Ace said. “When you feel me push you, if you still trust me completely, you’ll fall into a different state of mind. When you’re there, you’ll follow my voice as I guide you through it.”

The second voice spoke again. “This is going to hurt her. Cyra better not let me down.”

“Be strong for me, Cyra. You can do it. You will do it.” Ace didn’t give Cyra any time to second guess what he said before he roughly pushed her backwards. Or at least, what she assumed was backwards.

She fell further than she’d ever fallen before. It felt like she was plummeting forever in an endless loop of darkness.

When she did finally land, she was in a place she’d never been before. It was darker than dark and constricted yet endless. It felt like she was in a far off corner of her mind, so far back that she didn’t even know it existed.

Cyra tried to open her eyes but, to her surprise, they were already open. Why was it so dark?

“Cyra, focus.” Ace’s voice echoed through her head, cutting off whatever thought was beginning to form. “Where are you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Cyra. Focus. Where are you?” Ace repeated.

“Stay with me, Cyra,” said the second voice.

“I’m…” Cyra tried to look around but she still couldn’t see anything. She had to concentrate and use her other senses. She listened to her nerves, what her body was telling her. She felt a chill and an overwhelming sense of dread. That was it. Now she knew where she was.

“I’m in my subconscious,” Cyra concluded.

“Good job, Cyra,” the second voice whispered to her.

“Do you see anything?” Ace asked.

“No.” Cyra immediately felt disappointed. It must have been Ace’s emotion. That wasn’t good. She didn’t want to let him down. “Wait, I need to look around more,” Cyra told him.

Trying to move around was quite the task. Everything was slow and something thick like molasses was resisting her every move. Maybe it was air, or water, or plasma. It was impossible to tell.

Eventually though, Cyra spotted a faint glow of light in the distance. It was red, a color she always loved, now haunting her whenever she closed her eyes. She moved toward it. Although she was still moving slowly, the light quickly got closer.

Cyra probably would have had a physical reaction to what she saw next, if she were still with her body. In front of her she saw Phoenix writhing in agonizing pain. He was entirely drench with blood and screaming Cyra’s name. Cyra screamed in turn, fear overcoming her. Ace must have heard this.

“Did you find him?” he asked.

“He needs help!” Cyra cried.

“He’s tricking you,” Ace said. “Just like he did when you were young. Do you remember?”

“Don’t wanna,” Cyra whined.

“You have to.”

Cyra shook her head and squeezed her eyes(?) shut.

“Open your eyes, Cyra,” Ace demanded. “When you do you’ll see that you’re really at home. The first time the four of us were in your house together. You remember.”

Any objections immediately abandoned Cyra and she opened her eyes. Ace’s words came to fruition and she was sitting on the couch in her living room. It was the old couch, one she had to replace after Jayce spilled bong water on it like twenty times. The old couch was uncomfortable and the fabric was rough. She didn’t miss it.

“Who do you see, Cyra?” Ace asked, though it was more of a command.

Looking around the room, Cyra saw Ace sitting next to her. The closeness brought her some form of comfort; relief from the torment. She also saw the other two sitting on the adjacent loveseat.

“You, Axel, and…” Cyra suddenly realized that she hadn’t actually said his name out loud since the party. “...Phoenix.”

“No you don’t,” Ace snapped.

Cyra was taken aback. She thought she had answered the question correctly.

“It’s only me and Axel there,” Ace corrected her.

The second voice spoke again. Cyra realized that it wasn’t coming from the back of her head anymore. While Ace’s voice was ringing out from above her, the second voice was now coming from her chest and throat. She wasn’t speaking for it but it was speaking from inside her body.

“Phoenix isn’t actually there, you just think you can see him,” the voice said. Its tone was gentle and guiding. “Take a closer look.”

Cyra stared at the loveseat and squinted her eyes to get a better look. Slowly but surely, Phoenix’s form faded away, leaving Axel sitting by himself. Cyra tried looking away and looking back again, but he was just gone. Nothing else had changed, not even the position Axel was sitting in. Like Phoenix was never there to begin with.

Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed Cyra’s shoulders. She turned to look back and saw Phoenix, looking at her with hunger. Cyra looked over to Ace for help but he wasn’t beside her anymore.

“Phoenix…” Cyra said, pleading with him.

“What’s going on, Cyra?” Ace demanded.

“Stay with me, Cyra.” The second voice soothingly vibrated in Cyra’s chest.

“He’s grabbing me,” Cyra reported.

“No. That was me,” Ace said.

The figure behind her began to blink and decay in a glitch-like effect. Ace took its place, looking down at Cyra with concern and protectiveness in his eyes. The way he used to look at her when things were simpler. When everything was still a secret.

Cyra didn’t bother trying to speak, knowing that back then she could just gaze into his eyes without needing a reason.

“Cyra, are you with me?” Ace asked. His voice still came from above, not from the beautiful face Cyra was staring at.

For a moment, Cyra wondered if she should just stay there forever. Just stop answering…

No. She couldn’t. She made a promise, she’d follow Ace to the end of time.

“I’m here.” As soon as Cyra spoke, the room broke apart and she fell back into the abyss. She thought she heard Ace tell her that she was going back to the day Phoenix moved into her house.

She didn’t feel herself land but she knew that she’d stopped falling. When she opened her eyes, she was in her bed at home. She was lying face down in Axel’s arms, tightly clinging onto him. Maybe she was crying, maybe she was just trying not to.

She heard Phoenix telling her that she made a good decision for herself. That now he and Axel could help her whenever she needed them. That she finally had people close to her who actually understood her. That she wouldn’t have to worry about being sad anymore.

And then she felt pain. It was invasive and forceful. She was being torn open.

Cyra looked up at Axel, pleading for help with her eyes. Axel stroked her hair and his eyes darted around her face, like he was trying to silently tell her something. Trying to get across a soothing message that might help her ignore the pain.

She remembered the way that Axel would try to comfort her during those times when she was a teenager. He would hold her in his arms and tell her that it would be over soon. Then they could play video games together and try to forget about it. She would do the same for Axel when Phoenix hurt him instead of her. They would help each other through it.

“Cyra, answer me,” Ace’s voice called.

“He’s hurting me–”

“No he’s not.” Ace cut her off immediately. “He’s not there. It’s me you’re feeling.”

“Why are you hurting me?”

“I always hurt you. I’m hurting you because it’s what you need.”

Encouraged by her mate, Cyra looked behind her and saw Ace. He was doing what she thought Phoenix was doing to her. As soon as she realized that it was Ace, the pain changed. It felt purposeful and necessary. She trusted that Ace had a good reason to hurt her, probably for Cyra’s own good. Now justified, the pain became infinitely easier to tolerate.

Cyra looked up at Axel again. He had that brotherly, familiar look on his face. The way he always looked at her back then. Back when it was just the fou– three(?) of them. Were they always just three? Was Cyra misremembering them as four?

“Where is he?” Cyra asked, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about.

“Who?” Cyra didn’t know which voice was speaking to her anymore. They sounded the same.

“Um… fuck, I don’t know,” she said.

“It was only you, me, and Axel.”

He was right. There were only ever three of them. Still, Cyra felt like she was forgetting something.

Phoenix. Right, Phoenix was supposed to be there. But where?

“Where is Phoenix?” Cyra asked.

“We don’t know anyone named Phoenix,” Ace insisted. “We never have.”

“But there was–”

“Three of us. You, me, Axel.”

That sounded right. Maybe there never was a fourth person. No one named– What was his name again?

“What about the other person?” Cyra asked, unsure of what she was talking about again.

“Who?” Ace questioned.

“I… don’t know,” Cyra admitted. She forgot what they were even talking about two seconds ago. She looked around her bedroom. She saw Axel and Ace, and that was it. There were only the three of them in her bed.

Cyra was suddenly pushed backwards, despite the fact that she was lying on her stomach. She was shoved back into the void and it felt like she was going even further back into her own mind.

Soon she could see again, but just barely. She knew she was in her house, in front of the TV that was in one of her guest bedrooms. The one that Ace used to sleep in years ago. It was an old TV that was hooked up to a VCR player. The screen was on, its glow serving as the only light in the room. It was only playing static.

Cyra crawled closer to it until her face was just inches from the screen. She pressed play on the VCR and a terrible video started playing. Its contents didn’t matter. It was the feeling that Cyra got from seeing it that made it awful. Dread and panic invaded her every nerve.

She tried to turn the video off but nothing happened. She frantically unplugged the VCR but it just kept playing. She unplugged the TV but that didn’t work either.

It was all so awful, she couldn’t take it. She didn’t even know what was happening or why she was there. She didn’t know what the video was. She couldn’t tell what was even happening in it. All she knew was that it was horrific and loud. So fucking loud.

Managing to tear her eyes away from the TV, Cyra looked around the room. She could make out a bed and two doors. One of them led to a safer place, she knew that for sure. Which one it was remained a mystery to her though.

Taking a wild guess, Cyra dragged herself to her feet and turned the knob of the leftmost door. As soon as she pushed it open, she heard a familiar voice.

“Cyra, where are you going?” it said.

Cyra looked back, realizing she was straying, but the room she was just in had already vanished. There was just nothingness behind her. She listened for the voice again, hoping it would guide her back. She heard nothing though.

She suddenly felt an intense loneliness. It was painful. She’d never felt so isolated in her life.

She listened more for the voice that was guiding her earlier, but she couldn’t hear it anymore. Or maybe it wasn’t talking anymore. Had she been abandoned? Was she lost? Was it her fault? She couldn’t understand what was happening. It hurt to be left alone in the dark. Somehow she knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

She had to make a decision for herself now. Either go back into the void or continue on through the door. She made her decision quickly. The darkness was scarier than the unknown in that moment. So she went forward.

The door led to a familiar-looking house. It wasn’t her house but she felt at home inside it. What was this place? She knew it well, but why?

Concentrating, Cyra noticed it was cold and open. The opposite of her house, not cozy at all. It was empty too. She was the only person in the house. The walls hummed and the floor creaked when she walked. Her footsteps echoed through the building.

Oh. She was in her childhood home.

“Cyra, answer me!” Ace demanded, grabbing Cyra’s jaw. He tilted her head up towards him and saw that her eyes were open but unfocused.

Everything had been going smoothly, Cyra had been doing everything right. She followed all of his instructions and agreed with all of his suggestions. Phoenix’s existence was almost completely extracted from her memories.

That was until she suddenly slumped over and stopped responding. Her mouth hung open, exposing her yellowed fangs. Her eyes were glazed and unblinking. Her pale skin made her look like a corpse. Lifelessly sitting in front of Ace.

Where the fuck had she gone? She obviously wandered off somewhere she wasn’t supposed to, but Ace had no clue where.

He knew that he had to find her and guide her back. If not, she might remain lost in her own head for the rest of her life.

Why did you stray from my voice? Ace thought. I told you how dangerous this was.

“Cyra,” Ace said in the most commanding voice he could muster up. No response. Ace’s heart rate sped up in panic, something he wasn’t used to.

For the first time since he met Cyra, he’d completely lost control over her. That never happened. Ace always had some form of power over her, even if she didn’t know it, even if they hadn’t talked in months. But now she was off on her own, wandering the deepest corners of her mind all by herself. It felt wrong. It made Ace feel weak and powerless.

Frustrated, Ace slapped Cyra’s face. She didn’t even blink. He slapped her again, harder. Then again, as hard as he could. Nothing.

“Cyra, come back. How dare you turn away from me!” Ace yelled. He grabbed the starlet’s shoulders and shook her violently. Her head swung along limply with the movements.

Quickly growing desperate, Ace pushed Cyra onto her back and stood up from the bench. He began to kick her sides but she showed no signs of feeling it. Her empty eyes just stared up at the ceiling. Ace wondered what she was seeing, if she could even see anymore.

He needed to get a signal through to her somehow. She needed something to follow.

Ace knelt down, his knees on either side of her body. He hovered above her face, trying to think of something.

“Wake up, you stupid bitch,” he said, mostly to himself. He tilted his head to the side and he could hear Cyra shallowly breathing. He thought about choking her but he was strangely afraid that he might kill her.

Realizing that violence wasn’t going to work, Ace decided to try a softer approach. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. He whispered all of her wake up triggers. Then he whispered them again and again. Slowly and clearly, perfectly enunciating every syllable.

Then he waited for a while. Cyra just laid there, an empty husk underneath him.

Ace sat up on top of her. For the first time in so long, he had no idea what to do. He lost Cyra and he feared that there was no way he could get her back.

But maybe, with extra emphasis on ‘maybe’, she could get herself back.

Ace placed his fingertips around her eyes, stretching her eyelids father apart. He then grabbed her jaw and pushed her face from side to side, examining her.

“You’re on your own now,” he said. “Save yourself or rot inside your fucked up little head.” Knowing there was nothing he could do and needing to calm down, Ace got up and left the room.

Cyra aimlessly wandered the house, trying to find a way out. None of the doors would open when she tried. There probably wasn’t even anything outside anyway since she could see nothing but darkness when she looked through the windows.

The house was so cold, Cyra felt like she might freeze to death soon. If that was even possible. She wasn’t even sure if she was still alive. Maybe she had already died. Maybe this was Hell. It sure felt awful enough.

She was feeling and thinking a lot of things that she thought she’d pushed out of her mind. She felt so inadequate and alone. That was why the house was empty. She couldn’t live up to what was expected of her, so everyone left. She could never be an alpha no matter how hard she tried. She would be the end of her family’s lineage. She let everyone down.

After climbing the second floor stairs for what felt like the millionth time, Cyra stopped by her parents’ room. For the first time in years, she wondered what they were doing, where they were. When they left her, Cyra cut off communication with them out of anger. That was the last time she spoke to them. They didn’t even try to contact her again after that, probably relieved that she’d removed herself from their lives.

It didn’t even hurt though. Cyra just… never thought about it. They moved on so she did the same. But now that she was acknowledging it, she felt dreadful. She was angry, miserable, and exhausted all at the same time.

Was it really such a crime to be a beta? Why was status and power the only thing that mattered?

Cyra suddenly realized that she couldn’t remember what her parents looked like. She tried to form an image of them but only blurry, vague shapes of people manifested. She guessed that they looked something like her, but she had no way of knowing.

Then tears came. Cyra fell to her knees, feeling nothing but complete sorrow. She tried to expel the way she was feeling. She screamed and sobbed. She punched the wall next to her. She tugged on her hair. Nothing made her feel any better.

She’d never cried about this before and it was even worse than she imagined it would be. She didn’t want to think about this. She just wanted to pretend like it never happened.

And yet it was all she could think about. That she wasn’t good enough. That she was worthless. That she was unloveable.

The pain ripped through her like a tornado. It was worse than any pain she’d ever felt before. It hurt more than anything she’d ever done to herself. It hit harder than Ace ever could.

Ace. Where was he? Had he abandoned her too? He was supposed to guide her through… wherever she was but she couldn’t hear his voice anymore.

She wished he would come rescue her from this hell. He probably wouldn’t though. He was probably mad at her.

Cyra knew she’d fucked up. She went the wrong way. She did something that he didn’t tell her to do. But it was only for a second, not even. When she tried to go back, she couldn’t. Did that mean that her mate had abandoned her? She promised him she wouldn’t stray but it was only for a second. She didn’t mean to disobey him. She was just scared.

Ace didn’t like her when she was scared though. That was probably why he stopped talking to her. He’d trained her to be strong and she had failed him. She made him waste ten years of his life just for her to fuck everything up when it mattered the most. Maybe she deserved to be abandoned. She faltered and that was unacceptable.

There was no point anymore. All she ever wanted was to make Ace happy. Now she was alone with nothing but the pain of being abandoned by everyone. By her parents, by her friends who walked out of her life, and now by her mate. She had no reason to go on anymore. It was over.

Still sobbing and screaming, Cyra rose to her feet and walked down the long hallway. When she arrived at her own bedroom, the room she grew up in, she went straight to the window. She opened it and still saw nothing but a black abyss outside of it, but she knew she was three stories up.

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Cyra climbed through the window frame and let herself fall into the darkness below.

Ace tapped his nails on the counter impatiently as he waited for the water in the teapot to boil. He was trying not to think about Cyra but that seemed to be impossible. He kept telling himself that it was for the best. Now he could just move on with his own life and not have to worry about her anymore.

Still, he found himself feeling anxious about it. He could hardly remember what life was like before he met Cyra and thus he had no idea what it would be like without her.

He shook his head. No, there was no reason to be upset. He would be completely fine, he was sure of it.

Ace jumped when the teapot started to squeal, signaling that it was ready. He killed the gas and picked up the pot, pouring the hot water into a mug he had placed next to it. He looked through the tea cabinet and selected a flavor. After carefully opening the package, he dropped the bag into the mug and gently lifted it a couple times.

He thought about what he should do the next day as he waited for the tea to cool down enough to drink. He could go shopping or maybe get food with friends. He didn’t have any meetings for the next few days so he could really do anything he wanted.

Without coming to a decision, Ace picked up the mug and turned around to lean against the counter.

He was about to take a sip when he suddenly heard loud, obnoxious retching coming from upstairs. Startled, he completely lost his grip on the mug and it fell to the floor, shattering near his feet.

Too shocked to care, Ace rushed out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. The sound was familiar, it was the way Cyra sounded whenever she had too much to drink. Did she actually fucking do it?

Sure enough, when Ace entered the room that he left Cyra in, she was on her hands and knees, vomiting onto the carpet.

Ace stared down at her in horror. He felt like he was looking at a ghost. He didn’t know how she’d regained consciousness but she did, the crazy bitch.

Cyra gasped when she saw him. “What happened?” she asked before vomiting again.

Ace had no idea if the memory erasure worked, so he decided to lie just in case.

“Do you not remember? You’ve been sick since the party,” he said. It was at least half true.

“I was? What day is it?” Cyra asked. She sounded totally confused. That could be a good sign.

“Wednesday.”

Cyra’s eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” Ace asked, playing dumb.

“I thought it was still Saturday.” Cyra’s eyes darted around in panic. “I can’t remember anything.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember what happened at the party?” He was now almost certain that she didn’t but he had to make sure.

“What happened at the party?”

Perfect.

“You took drugs and you got so sick you could barely move. I’ve been taking care of you for the last five days,” Ace told her.

“You… I…” Cyra’s eyes suddenly rolled up into her head and she fell to her side.

Ace rushed to check her. She had a pulse. He could hear her breathing. She probably passed out from exhaustion (finally) but she was okay.

Finding himself relieved, but trying to ignore it, Ace lifted Cyra onto the bed and left her to sleep.

It was midday when Jayce got out of bed on Thursday. Waking up was becoming difficult as the days went on. He was beginning to think that Cyra would never come back. Since Jayce first started dating her, she never left him alone for more than four days. Today would be the sixth day.

Prince assured him that Cyra was fine and that she just wanted extra time away because of the mating. Jayce could tell something was wrong though. Prince seemed more anxious than usual, smoking twice as much and talking way less. It was obvious they were lying to make him feel better.

Moping, Jayce made his way downstairs to the kitchen to get food. The living room and kitchen were empty. Prince was probably isolating themself again. They’d been hiding away in various guest bedrooms since Jayce asked them if they were lying about Cyra. He didn’t get an answer of course, but that was essentially the same as Prince admitting it.

Jayce opened the fridge and examined the multiple containers of leftovers. He didn’t really want to eat but he knew that he should. Tony had to remind him to do so for the past few days, saying that Cyra would want to see him healthy when she got back.

Settling on some day-old casserole, Jayce grabbed one of the glass containers and put it in the microwave.

Before the microwave timer reached zero, the front door opened. Startled, Jayce looked over to see who it was. He was overjoyed when Cyra walked in, dragging her small suitcase behind her.

“Cyra!” Jayce exclaimed before running over to her.

“Jayce! My baby,” the beta responded. She opened her arms, welcoming him into a tight hug. She held him for a long time before they heard one of the side room doors open. They both turned their heads as Prince emerged from the room.

Cyra greeted them and Prince responded with a confused hello. Almost like they weren’t expecting her to come back.

Tony came running up the basement stairs soon after and Cyra greeted him as well.

“Why were you gone so long?” Jayce whined.

Prince folded their arms and looked at Cyra expectantly, clearly wondering the same thing.

“I was sick and I couldn’t travel,” Cyra explained.

“You look skinnier,” Prince observed.

“I had food poisoning,” Cyra replied.

Prince gave her a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, they stepped forward to hug the other beta. “Why didn’t you tell me?” they asked.

“I’m sorry,” was all Cyra said.

“Well let’s stop interrogating her and get her some food,” Tony announced.

“Can you eat?” Prince questioned, letting go of Cyra.

“Yep! I’m all better now,” Cyra said.

Tony went to the kitchen and Jayce suddenly remembered his food in the microwave. He hurried after Tony to retrieve it so he could eat with Cyra.

He took the container out of the microwave and looked back, expecting Cyra to be behind him. Instead though, she was still near the door with Prince, who was quietly saying something to her. Cyra shook her head and responded just as quietly. Despite not being able to hear, Jayce could tell there was tension between them. It was likely just Prince being concerned and Cyra didn’t seem to be arguing with them so he wasn’t too worried about it.

The two seemed to quickly sort out whatever it was they were talking about and started walking to the kitchen together. They almost made it there before Cyra suddenly stopped like she just remembered something.

“Where’s Devin?” she asked.

“He’s working out in the gym,” Tony said, referring to the home gym in the basement.

Cyra announced that she would be right back and ran towards the basement stairs. Jayce watched her go. He heard her yell, “Where are you, collar boy?” before she was out of sight. She seemed a lot less stressed than before she left. It was a good sign.

When Cyra came back upstairs after a few minutes, Devin was chasing after her. At first Jayce was worried but Cyra’s laughter let him know he could relax at least a little.

The pair circled around the couches a few times, Cyra faking Devin out in different ways. Eventually, Devin stopped and grunted in pain, the way he did whenever someone pressed the shock button on his collar.

Jayce saw Prince waving the controller in the air. “Relax,” they demanded.

“But-” Devin protested but Prince shot him a silencing glare.

“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just chill out for a bit,” Prince reasoned.

Devin seemed conflicted but just sighed and sat down at the counter. Cyra sat down next to him and Jayce joined them as well, setting his food down on the counter.

Tony placed a hot plate of pasta in front of Cyra and told her to eat. Jayce was happy to be able to eat with her again. It felt like it had been so long.

As they ate, Cyra asked everyone what they got up to while she was gone. Jayce got a bit anxious thinking about the week without her but Cyra kept lovingly rubbing his back to calm him down. It felt nice.

As they all chatted, Jayce noticed that Cyra didn’t talk much about what happened to her. When asked, she would just say that she was sick and that it was awful. There were no details and the few times that she did try to be specific she seemed like she was concentrating hard to remember. Jayce exchanged a few worried glances with Prince but neither of them said anything about it. They were both just enjoying talking to Cyra again.

Jayce knew that he and Prince probably missed Cyra the most. The three of them seemed to share a special connection that none of them had with the others. It was hard to describe, but they were just closer.

The rest of the day was spent playing video games and talking more. For some reason, Cyra seemed happier than usual. She seemed… lighter? Like she wasn’t being weighed down by the things that usually bothered her. Despite her sickly appearance, her smile was brighter and her posture was more relaxed.

When night fell, everyone went to Cyra’s bedroom to relax. Devin and Tony sat at the end of the bed, playing a video game together. Jayce, Prince, and Cyra all laid on a pile of pillows together, tangled in each other’s arms.

“I missed this,” Jayce said.

“Me too,” Cyra agreed.

Prince didn’t say anything, just lightly stroked Cyra’s arm with their nails.

“Um…” Cyra trailed off, trying to find the word. “I’m sorry, for everything.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Prince said.

“I won’t.” Cyra wrapped her arm tighter around Jayce and took Prince’s hand, squeezing it.

Jayce closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about it. He was just happy that Cyra was back. He didn’t want to ruin his own happiness by worrying about what happened. It didn’t matter to him. Sure, Cyra lied and broke promises a lot, but to Jayce she sounded completely genuine when she apologized.

It was best to just enjoy her presence while she was still there. Feeling totally relaxed, Jayce wished they could all stay in that moment forever. Together and happy.

End

#dire #omegaverse #hypnosis #whump #and that's it that's the story #I have a couple bonus scenes to post but that's it #hope you enjoyed Cyra's suffering as much as I did #Cyra's world

2 notes · View notes

nemo-of-house-hamartia · 2 years

Note

2. 8, 10, 13, 30, 42 for Antoine ;)

For you: B, D, E, F

Hi TK!! WELCOME WELCOME TO MY INBOX, MY DEAR FRIEND!!

AND YOU BRING QUESTIONS FOR MY DEAR ANTOINE???

*rubs hands together* SPLENDID. I AM MOST HAPPY ABOUT THIS.

Without further ado, lemme answer all that you have asked!!

2-How easy is it for your character to laugh? Laughter?? Antoine?? Dear Gods, Laughter is to Antoine what the Sun is to a Vampire! She grew up directly under her father’s strict tutelage, and laughter or any kind of sign of spontaneity were definitely not encouraged at all. So, she never laughed much as a child, and growing up, due to all that has happened in her life, she still doesn’t laugh much, if at all. She wishes she could, though. She is so aware of how serious she is, how strict she is toward herself, how in control of her emotions she always is, but she doesn’t enjoy being the way she is, and even if she doesn’t show it, she is always wounded whenever someone calls her a killjoy. She wants to be happy and laugh, but she doesn’t know how anymore.

8-What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child? As a child, Antoine was partially subjected to a most peculiar education: her father wanted her to be the son he knew Mathias would never be, and her mother instead wanted her to grow up to be as a refined lady as she herself was, and this caused her a huge conflict within herself. Her natural instinct and her natural strong personality made her feel more attuned with what her father wanted her to be, but her mother still insisted that she was to be poised and graceful. So, as a child, she was always told to act like a lady, to be elegant, sophisticated, polite, and becoming, and she hated it because she could never be enough, could never live up to what they expected of her. She was not a boy, so she could not live up to be the son her father wanted, and she was not feminine enough to fulfill her mother’s wishes to become the next Mistress of the House, and this brought her to reject all that’s feminine and delicate and graceful. Her rocky relationship with Dorothea, at least in the beginning, stems also from all of this.

10-What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them? The biggest lies Antoine has ever said are connected to the darkest secret she carries in her heart. No one knows about this and no one ever will. She has sworn to herself that she would carry this secret to her grave because she knows what would happen to Mathias and Colette, and Claude, if she were to reveal it, and she is terrified of losing them. On a lighter tone, the lie she most frequently remember telling is connected to her name. Her birth name was Antoinette and her twin usually refers to her as "Toinette" but DEAR GODS ABOVE, DO NOT DARE TO CALL HER WITH THAT NAME. She goes by Antoine for a reason, and she will VERY MUCH glare if anyone dares to try to tell her that she is lying about her name.

13-What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color? Antoine thinks that the best colours for her is olive green, tawny, and cream, and she looks extremely handsome when wearing this palette. However, she was once convinced into wearing the darkest shade of black, white, and red, and she truly looked stunning in that palette. Still, she prefers to see herself in the modest shades of her Assassin’s garb.

30-Who do they most regret meeting? François-Thomas Germain. Dear Gods, Germain is the one she regrets the most meeting. To him and his persona are connected all her shame and her secrets, all that she has kept from her family in order to protect them and provide for them when Mathias was injured and Colette was too young to do anything to help. Sometimes, when she allows herself to feel fragile -and it happens very rarely - she wished she had done things differently and she wished she had had someone that could have guided her through the most difficult moments of her life. Sometimes she wonders what person she would have been, had she not met Germain, for she truly believes part of the reason her heart has become so hard is due to her connection to him.

42-How badly do they want to reach their end goal? It depends on the goal. Antoine has no interest in pursuing any personal gain or glory, at least not to the same extent like when she was younger and still very much influenced by her father’s indoctrination and teachings. But she does believe that the Brotherhood tenets and the creed should be respected and followed and she believes that there cannot be compromises with the Templars, on any level. She applies the same passionate intransigence, even in respect of her siblings safety and well-being. So, to protect the Brotherhood, her brothers-in-arms and her blood siblings, she is truly willing to go above and beyond. She is ready to face the consequences that will come with her choices, if it means to ensure the safety of the people around her.

QUESTIONS FOR THE CREATOR A.K.A ME

B-What inspired you to create them? I can definitely say that Antoine was born as the “reworked” version of her sister Colette. You see, when I created Colette, back in 2020, she was an only child, much like Dorothea is in Syndicate. However, over time, I wanted to give her a more ample entourage of OCs to interact with, and I wanted them to belong to the Brotherhood(Colette herself is a civilian. Sympathizer, sure, but still civilian and inactive in the Assassins/Templars War). So, first I decided to make Mathias (aka my own version of Greencoat) her elder brother. But then I wasn’t satisfied. I felt I might need to retooled Colette’s character, so I went to the draftboard and started reworking on her whole personality and motivation, and it was in that moment that Antoine was actually born, albeit, at that moment, it was still under the name of Colette. Then, I was kinda missing the spontaneous, sweet, veracious personality my Colette had in the beginning, but I had also grown attached to my emotionally constipated new brainchild. And so, I decided to keep what I came up with and Antoine was born, the eldest of the De Beaumont children, tough as nails but with a soft heart for her siblings.

D-Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? Her physical appearance was pretty clear in my brain from the moment I took the decision to keep the character I had come up with. I wanted her to have a tough look, a sort of dangerous beauty, someone that you DON’T WANT to have at your tail, because once she has tracked you, she won’t let you go until she has completed her mission. Also, I wanted her to bear resemblance to her twin Mathias and her younger sister Colette. So, in that sense, I only edit her colouring, verging on a palette that would make it clear that she was Mathias’ twin and that she was connected also to his role as Greencoat, so to speak, AND with her hair and eyes instead verging more towards Colette’s own palette.

E-Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you? I would say yes and no to both question. Antoine is hard, stubborn, ruthless in her own right and ready to truly do anything for the people she loves. But she is too adamant, too harsh, and too difficult to reason with sometimes, so I think that we would butt heads ALL THE TIME (we both also have quite the fiery temper, so mmmm I think we would truly argue a lot, in virtue of the fact that we might be A TAD too similar in the way we reacts). But in general, she is motivated by the immense terror of losing the people she loves the most, she fears that some ill could befall them if she is not around to protect them, and I can relate to that to an extent, which is why I think this would be a point where the two of us would definitely see eye to eye.

F-What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)? Pride. Oh so very much pride. She is one of my most favourite ocs out there, I truly respect her strength of mind, her cold blood and how she is able to lead people, and how much of a warrior she is. I just overall adore her (and I honestly live for the fact that she is super protective of both her siblings AND WILL MESS with the people that are in love with them -aka Arno and Dorothea. She has no problems letting them both have the shovel talk and tells them both that she WILL BE watching them, and if they dare to hurt either Mathias or Colette, they better pray to God to have mercy because she will have none lol). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

thank you SO MUCH for these questions, I truly had so much fun, I don't talk enough about my dear Antoine, and she is my emotionally constipated gremlin that deserves all the hugs and the cuddles (she will act as if she doesn't want them, but trust me, SHE DOES AND SHE NEEDS THEM).

--Nemo

#Assassin's Creed Unity #Assassin'c Creed #AC Unity OC #Antoine De Beaumont #my oc #ask answered #friends

7 notes · View notes

ao3feed-piltovers-finest · 2 years

Text

Cigarettes Out The Window

by cupcaits

Vi Lane and Caitlyn Kiramman used to be best friends growing up in high school. They were an odd pairing given that they were from two different worlds. Caitlyn was the innocent rich girl and Vi came from the wrong side of the tracks, always getting into trouble and fights. But when the two of them would stop becoming friends for reasons neither of them will ever confess, it seems as though they'll be doomed to never become friends. Fast forward eight years later and the two of them are at different points in their life. Caitlyn's one of the best ballet dancers out there. She's perfect, entirely too strict on herself and living by her mother's rules. But Caitlyn's dying to engage in some fun in the midst of her hard work, allowing her best friend, Jayce, to convince her to go out for the night to a concert. There's a new band on the scene, Zaun's Demons, quickly gaining popularity and everyone wants to hear from them. Not thinking anything of it, Caitlyn decides to go. She has no clue that the lead singer of said band happens to be none other than Vi herself. And she's grown much more hotter than from when she had seen her last. More bitter too, given that things between them had ended terribly.

Words: 1581, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends), Ekko (League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Jayce (League of Legends), Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Mel Medarda, Original Characters

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Useless Lesbians, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, vi was a punk, cait did ballet, could i be any more obvious?, best friends to enemies to friends again and lovers, vi's in a band and is very much a fuckboy, cait is uptight and does ballet and is really good at it, Masturbation, jinx goes by powder in this one btw, vi is a little toxic and messy in this fic, toxic in a hot way i guess, Drug Use, mostly weed but cocaine too, vi's living by the sex drugs and rock n roll motto, i'll be copying song lyrics from my fave songs, but also i might make up some lyrics of my own and try to be a poet lol

from AO3 works tagged 'Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)'

#ao3feed-piltovers-finest #a03feed-piltovers-finest #caitvi #arcane (league of legends) fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

motownfiction · 10 months

Text

this bothers them

Lucy can’t really believe she’s here.

When she was seven, and she took a bite from Will’s donut during one of the many long, boring First Communion prep breakfasts, no one noticed. So, she didn’t get into any trouble. When she was ten, and she let Steph Armstrong copy her test, no one noticed. So, Lucy didn’t get into any trouble. Hell, when she was a pregnant eleventh grader, no one yelled at her about it. They were just happy she’d gotten married while she still could.

It begs the question, though.

How is a strict Catholic school more lenient than a public university?

Lucy is in the first year – the first semester – of her master’s degree in Detroit. She takes all her classes with the same small group of people. They call themselves a cohort. Lucy hates that word. It would imply that she feels any sense of community toward them, and she does not. How can she feel community with people who want to bring her down?

The rumblings started from the moment the new graduate students sat in the same room. When they introduced themselves, everyone developed the same opinion about Lucy: She thinks she’s better than everyone else. Because she went to Michigan. Because her parents are English professors. Because she’s already married. And maybe a tiny part of Lucy did believe she was better than the others. She’s not proud of it – wishes she could claw the arrogance right out of her veins. But when it came out of their mouths, it all sounded like a lie.

But they never gave it up. And when Lucy earned a higher score on a paper in their Medieval Studies class, some guy named Jason sought revenge. He went to the boss and told him that Lucy had been saying condescending things about her students.

Which brings her here, now.

In her department head’s office.

Accused of being a jerk to students not three full months into her postsecondary career.

The department head gives her some basic warning about watching what she says because you never know who’s going to take what the wrong way. Somehow, Lucy knows he’s talking more about some guy named Jason than about students. He hands her a small chocolate bar – the kind you keep in a dish for kind decoration – and tells her to listen well.

“This won’t be the last time something like this happens to you,” the department head says. “It might not ever happen to the other students in your cohort, but it will happen to you.”

“I know,” Lucy says, a little surprised by her own confidence.

“You know?”

“Yes. I might be the only one in my cohort who makes it to a doctoral program, much less to a tenure-track position. And I know … I know it works in my favor to have the parents I have.”

The boss nods.

“But you know that’s not at all,” he says. “You’d have this much talent if you’d been born to mathematicians or if you’d been raised by a gallon of milk.”

Lucy almost smiles, but she doesn’t. She understands about weakness.

“Yes,” she says again. “And I don’t like this, but I do understand it, when I think about it. I have power. Whether I asked for it or not, I have power. The others in my cohort … they understand it, too.”

“Would it be gauche to say bingo?”

“Maybe. But I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The department head laughs. Before he sends Lucy on her way, he says something about how power doesn’t just intimidate people anymore. It bothers them.

“They’re used to being the most powerful student in the room,” he says. “But that’s what happens when you put a bunch of the top students from different places in the same room. Somebody still comes out on top. I think that’s you.”

Lucy almost smiles again.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’d like it to be.”

But on the inside, she’s screaming. Still the same desperate kid she always was. Still dying to be the best at everything. The greatest.

When she’s finally out of the department head’s office, she allows herself one smile.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: lucy callaghan #year: 1989 #asks #pelopides #thank you!

0 notes

tseneipgam · 1 year

Text

"She said that her daughter had been wearing the same dress for three days straight. She took it off only to bathe, but then even slept in it. She said that before our mother had left for Japan, she had been looking after the children one morning at a department store while my sister ran some errands. There, her daughter had insisted on buying the dress, and when our mother had expressed reluctance, had thrown her first ever public tantrum. Panicking, our mother had relented and paid. The dress, my sister said, was both ugly and expensive, but her daughter had seen something in it, something that connected to a feeling deep inside her, that she was nor yet old enough to express. It was also too short, and my sister had had to sew on a laver of leftover lace around the hem, even though she knew her daughter would grow out of that too very quickly. Now, both her children were playing out in the garden, and each day;, the dress, which was a pale wheat colour, became dirtier and dirtier. My sister too had been prone to deep rages as a child."

"I turned to my mother, who was still looking at the Monet, which happened to be one of his most famous pieces. She was swaying lightly on her feet, as if to music, or as if very tired. I said that I too sometimes did not understand what I saw in galleries, or read in books. Though I understood the pressure of feeling like you had to have a view or opinion, especially one that you could articulate clearly, which usually only came with a certain education. This, I said, allowed you to speak of history and context, and was in many ways like a foreign language. For a long time, I had believed in this language, and I had done my best to become fluent in it. But I said that sometimes, increasingly often in fact, I was beginning to feel like this kind of response too was false, a performance, and not the one I had been looking for. Sometimes, I looked at a painting and felt completely nothing. Or ifI had a feeling, it was only intuitive, a reaction, nothing that could be expressed in words. It was all right, I said, to simply say if that was so. The main thing was to be open, to listen, to know when and when not to speak."

"It was a grey, cold day and we were the only two people in the room. I asked my mother what she believed about the soul and she thought for a moment. Then, looking not at me but at the hard, white light before us, she said that she believed that we were all essentially nothing, just series of sensations and desires, none of it lasting. When she was growing up, she said that she had never thought of herself in isolation, but rather as inextricably linked to others. Nowadays, she said, people were hungry to know everything, thinking that they could understand it all, as if enlightenment were just around the corner. But, she said, in fact there was no control, and understanding would not lessen any pain. The best we could do in this life was to pass through it, like smoke through the branches, suffering, until we either reached a state of nothingness, or else suffered elsewhere. She spoke about other tenets, of goodness and giving, the accumulation of kindness like a trove of wealth. She was looking at me then, and I knew that she wanted me to be with her on this, to follow her, but to my shame I found that I could not and worse, that I could not even pretend. Instead I looked at my watch and said that visiting hours were almost over, and that we should probably go."

"I wanted only to master one thing well in my life. I worked at the restaurant the same way. Before each shift, I always pinned back my hair very tightly. I did this not because I wanted to, but because I felt somehow that this style, elegant and strict, suited our role, which was to be contained and capable at all times. In the same way, I found myself doing many small things differently there, as if the very act of crossing through the doors had transformed me, as if I was now porous, or mute. I made a concentrated effort to be efficient and elegant, conscious of my gestures, my voice, the expression on my face, and understanding that if something broke, if we were to drop a tray or plate or stack of glasses, that it would be terrible, almost as if we had deliberately smashed it ourselves in a moment of madness or protest. The restaurant sometimes held large banquets, during which we had to carry long wooden boats topped with seafood and ice, and garnished with vegetables carved into the shape of flowers, which I always wanted to grab and eat, like a child. Though these trays were heavy and unwieldy, I made it look easy, holding in my mind the image of a ballet dancer who puts all her weight on the points of her toes but shows no pain. My boyfriend often joked that I was the kind of person who would be happy in a mountain temple, told only to sweep the dust from the floor each day, to contemplate the nature of time and labour, and the difference, or absolute sameness, between a dirty surface and a clean one."

#book

0 notes

uselessboss · 1 year

Text

Useless Effort(3/3)

“Again, no one came to visit her"

“At least this time they visited the first day right?”

The nurses gossiped throwing looks of pity at her.

“I hope you can get better!”

“I bet it has been super boring here right? When you get better we can go out for drinks!”

The bed next to her sure sounded lively.

How nice.

It reminded her of her time at school whenever she overhead classmates enthusiastically make plans to visit a sick friend or trying to cheer them up.

It reminded her of how unloved she was.

Because no one was there to offer such things.

A smile, a call… Her co-workers, her “partners” only deigned to visit her at most on the first day and even then their smiles were stiff and their body language made it very clear how much they didn't want to be there.

Miller didn't resent her powers. It was, after all, what allowed her to help and save so many people that couldn't be saved by normal human's limitation.

She also understood that it was why people distanced themselves from her. It made her too “different", too “inhumane”, too much of an “aberration” of nature.

She understood all that and yet it didn't stop her heart from aching as she looked at the display next to her.

People surrounded by family and friends. Laughing, having fun, sharing joyful moments together.

People that sought your company not out of obligation but because they want to spend time together with you.

She looked at the withering vase of flowers that she received on the first day of her stay by her current partner.

“Maybe they are too busy, after all they have to do my part while I am stuck here"

Those are lies she got used to tell to herself. Words whispered inward only for herself to hear.

Because she was a coward. Because she was afraid that if she spoke about them with anyone they would confirm her deepest fears.

The fear of being unwanted and lonely.

She was terrible naïve.

How could she think even for a moment that everything would be alright just because they were together again?

She thought that the “incident" was the only boogeyman in their past but by the way Andrews was acting it was clear that the scars ran far deeper than that.

It pained her to see her dear partner talk about himself like that.

Because he was such a wonderful and amazing person.

She wished she could make him see that. To make him understand how big of an impact he made in her life and how much he helped and saved her.

“Is there something wrong Miller?”

“Huh? Hunter? What are you still doing here late at night?”

“Andrews asked me to help him look over some older reports to get a better grasp at how he will direct our unit" Hunter sighs in annoyance “ I swear, that guy can be overly petty and childish at times"

“What happened?”

“He was groaning and grumbling non-stop while looking at Johannes' notes" Hunter pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“You two sure became friends in such a short time" that earned a chuckle from her “I am glad that you get along so well"

“Well… Yeah" Hunter hesitantly admits, slightly flustered. She could only smile at that.

Hunter had opened up to her and told her about his past and friendless background.

He talked about how he had a strong character and an even stronger and strict set of moral code to the point of coming of as overbearing to others,making him not be liked very much by his peers and having no one to call as a friend or be considered as one himself.

So Andrews was probably the first person Hunter regarded as such.

She knew they would get along but to have them become good friends made her beyond elated.

They were the sweetest, most considerate and reliable people she ever met so it was nice to know that they could also have each other's back if she wasn't up the task.

...Maybe there was even a chance for Andrews to have confided about this delicate topic with Hunter?

Hunter was a good listener after all.

“Hunter can I ask you something?”

“Yes, what is it?"

She talked about her concern over Andrews' well being, about how he still seems to be tormented by old wounds of the past and how she felt powerless and unsure about how to approach this situation and help her dear partner.

“… You know something Miller?” Hunter broke the silence after she finished speaking “Andrews asked me to tell him more about what happened between you and Johannes. Can you think why is that?”

“I… What?”

“He asked me because he had an inkling that you weren't being entirely honest with him” his expression turned stern “...Why were you putting the blame entirely on yourself?”

“…”

“Andrews also told me something else about his partnership with you, another side to it" Hunter continued “About his shortcomings as your partner”

Hunter sighs deeply.

“Miller… Why do you never acknowledge to being wronged or talk with us about these kind of things? Trust us with your feelings?”

He smiles sadly at her.

“Not talking about it won't bring closure to anyone you know?”

“…What do you mean by that Hunter?”

“We treated you badly Miller. We did things that we deeply regret to you so, because we are aware of the gravity of said actions, we want to take responsibility.”

Things always felt uncertain and awkward to her whenever she interacted with others. There was an unspoken rule in place to never acknowledge the elephant in the room lest the façade crumbled for good.

It was why she always felt so insecure.

Why she couldn't admit to anything.

But Andrews… Hunter… They did not avert their eyes. They didn't turn their backs.

They took a step forward, hand extended, posture firm and steady as they patiently waited for her.

It gave her courage.

Courage to get closer to them and take the hands offered to her.

“There are things that will take time for me to come to terms with" she admitted “But at the very least I can say that I… Want this.”

This something so dear and special built on genuine feelings.

“Hunter can I trouble… No, that's not right" she shook her head before correcting herself “Can I TRUST you with a favor?”

“Of course Miller"

“Miller wants to meet you for a talk"

“Sure, which meeting room?”

“None of them" Hunter smiled, giving him a neatly folded piece of paper “She wants to meet you at this place”

Andrews raised an eyebrow at the strange way his friend was acting but didn't question it, opting for carefully unfolding the paper to see what was going on.

His eyes widened in recognition.

He quickly turned to look at Hunter who smiled at him.

“Everything will be alright. Go on and meet her Andrews"

He had a lot of history with this bar.

Quiet, cozy, with a bartender of few words that minded his own business and his favorite table that sat on a corner, protected from prying eyes, giving him the privacy he needed as he ranted his misgivings away to the beer that served as his companion.

This was from a time he was always alone. Before he met “her".

“Andrews! Over here!” Miller waved.

“I never thought we would meet here ever again"

“Still as cozy as the day you showed me this place" she grinned, picking a french fry and nibbling it.

He sat on the comfy bench and without missing a beat he also picked a French Fry from the plate, shoving it inside his mouth and chewing it, the crunchy texture indicating that it was just recently ordered.

When Miller became his partner he showed this place to her after a particular exhaustive day as he was itching to blow some steam off and relax.

He was about to do as he always did and bitch to his beer when his partner asked if this time wouldn't it make it be better if he did it sober.

‘Why?’ he had asked.

‘So you know that now there is someone here to listen to you' she answered, embarrassingly honest and making his heart skip a beat.

God she flustered him to no end.

So, because beer was out of the table he decided to then settle for some appetizers instead.

It became a new tradition. To share a meal, to have someone to talk and listen to him.

It felt far nicer than talking to a can of beer.

…But it also made him feel far more emptier when she was gone.

He didn't feel like spending time here anymore and even the prospect of alcohol didn't look enticing to him.

It just made the loneliness too unbearable.

“So, what you wanted to talk about dear partner?”

“We didn’t really talk about everything that happened back then did we?”

“… Whatever do you mean?” Andrews tensed.

“The incident… My wound… All the things that keep hurting you to this day"

He felt sick. Like his insides were all being turned up, dread crawling through his skin, making him feel terribly cold.

He was so not prepared for this talk.

Miller reached for his hands and grasped them in her own, her thumb gently massaging his fists that he had unknowingly clenched until they relaxed, the tip of her fingers then sliding to touch the nail marks left on his skin, rubbing them until she smoothed them all out.

“There were things I didn't want to acknowledge that made me sad, things that hurt me"

She squeezed his hands, letting her mask fall. Finally showing this side of hers that she tried to hide for so long from everyone including herself.

“People being scared of me, plastering fake smiles to hide how much they disliked being around me. People that abandoned, rejected and isolated me. People that saw me as a freak"

It was painful to admit it. She had to put a brave front of everything being alright because she was scared to think that she might never belong, might never be accepted by others.

“And you Andrews… You never did that to me" she smiled “Or at least if you did you were willing to move past that to treat me as an equal and as a fellow human being"

“Miller that was the bare minimum required”

“And yet I was denied such treatment by most" she cocked her head to the side “I feel like there are some kind of misunderstanding going on here. Andrews… What do you think our relationship was really like?”

“…I took advantage of your kindness and unconditional forgiveness, I took your support for granted even when I did nothing to deserve it"

“I was your partner Andrews, of course I would support you"

“Yes, but I never did the same for you” he frowned, “You even had to worker harder and make up for my share many times"

“You make it sound like you were dumping work on me when you… Never did. You never ONCE asked me to help you Andrews" Miller ruffed, “I volunteered out of my own will because I actually wanted you to think of me as your partner and thus rely more on me"

“Still, I was a lazy, good for nothing, uncooperative asshole to you" he stubbornly refuted.

“Andrews I hope you don't take offense by what I will tell you now" Miller got up and leaned closer, placing a hand on his shoulder “YOU SUCKED AT PULLING THIS ACT UP"

“What.”

“How anyone was ever fooled by it is a mystery" she quirked her lips up in amusement “I don't know how it was with others but you clearly looked like you felt bad and conflicted whenever you did that with me. It was hard to take offense when you were the one most thorn up about it”

“Also, what is this nonsense about you never doing anything for me? Andrews, I think you are unaware of this but you spoiled me rotten"

“When that ever happened???”

“Offering me coffee whenever I was tired, telling people off whenever they were being inconsiderate, worrying over my well being and being mad at people that actually took advantage of me" She listed “This is a general idea but if you want me to describe specific moments I can do that too, because I remember all of them perfectly"

“Please don't, that would be too embarrassing”

Miller laughed as his ears burned.

“…Maybe it's kind sad and frustrating that you think nothing of what you did for me, treating it as if I am just settling for less when those moments were all so important and precious to me” Miller rested her head on her arms.

How could she properly convey the scope of what these treasured days meant to her? Her adoration? Her happiness? Her gratitude?

“You talked to me, listened to me, invited me to spend time with you even on our days off and shared so many wonderful experiences because you genuinely cared and appreciated my company. It made me really happy"

If there was someone in this world that she would be willing to trust wholeheartedly it would be him. Her dear partner.

“Andrews… I know it might be a painful memory for you but to me I can't help but think fondly of the day I saved you"

“I can't see how you could think anything good about what happened" he dropped his gaze, unable to see her in the eye “If I had done a proper job and checked my surroundings you wouldn't have to put yourself in harms way like that"

The color of her blood. The smell of it. He could never forget that awful and grotesque picture.

“… And afterwards wasn't any better. You were bleeding so much, your life was still at risk yet I just stood there like the useless piece of crap that I was so you had to save yourself because I was utterly unreliable. You were in so much pain and yet you were the one that had to reassure me"

There was no way he could forgive himself.

“You were in shock Andrews"

“That still doesn't excuse it!”

“I understand" she touched his face, making him lift his head “At least now I can say I understand how powerless you must have felt"

“I failed you"

“I don't think you did. At least not in the way that mattered to me"

“What do you mean?”

“I lied to you about one thing. About the origin of my other scars" she looked at her burnt arm “It wasn't an accident. I got them from trying to protect others"

So his hunch was right after all.

“I have a lot of unpleasant memories attached to most of these scars" her face hardens “Of a time when I was stuck on a hospital bed, when no one came to visit me and I had to watch in envy the bed next to mine being surrounded by people that are loved and cared for"

“Truth to be told I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to risk myself for my old partners at all"

Miller smiles at his astonished expression.

“Surprised? I am not as forgiving as you think Andrews" she jokes “Don’t get me wrong, I didn't say this out of hate or resentment, I didn't wish for harm to befall them despite everything"

“Then what would be your reason?”

“Fear. I couldn't help but feel scared whenever I had to put myself on the line for someone that didn't care at all"

He could sympathize with that. He didn't trust his old partners for the exact same reason.

“… But that day I wasn’t scared at all.” Miller's face softens “That time I didn't have to do it out of duty. For the first time I did it because it was something I actually wanted. I am proud of this scar because it's proof that I protected something important to me"

And she would never regret it.

Because he was there for her.

She no longer had to stare in jealousy the bed next to her because now she also had someone by her side.

Andrews went to see her at every opportunity he got, working hard so he could make time to visit her and making sure to text a message whenever he couldn't.

"I was lucky to have you as my partner at that time. I wouldn't even be alive after everything I went through if it wasn't for you"

"But I... Did nothing. Could do nothing. In your time of need, when you needed support and comfort the most I was unable to provide you that"

"It was hard" she conceded "The pain my body, mind and soul had to go through was unbearable and the thought that the only thing awaiting for me would be the scorn and hatred from people that would surely see me as a monster made me almost consider accepting death so the pain would stop"

But she didn't. Because of him.

"Then you came to my mind. Dying as a criminal... That wouldn't help you at all. It reminded me that even if there was a lot of bad things waiting for me I still had something good in my life to fight for"

"Andrews... You gave me a reason to live. You gave me a reason to persevere" her smile was radiant at this point, voice chocking with gratitude and tenderness "Your faith saved me. Even if the entire world was against me the fact that you believed me gave me the strength to move forward"

"..."

"For the record I also think fondly of the time we spent together. I too think of them as the happiest days in my life"

"I can't wait to spend more time with you Andrews. Just like the old days"

"Shall we brainstorm ideas about what to do on our next day off together then? Perhaps even bully Hunter to come along with us?"

“NOW that sounds like a plan!”

#My useless invincible boss #crowa miller(useless boss)#wolf hunter(useless boss)#daniel andrews(useless boss)

1 note · View note

geniusmains · 2 years

Text

Smalland ikea burbank

That is why there are so many rules and regulations, and why we are so strict when it comes to them. One of our beliefs as a company is that children are the most important people in the world, and so it is very important to us to keep the kids safe. Smaland is a part of the store where there are absolutely no exceptions made because we have to be sure that everyone who is under our care is safe. The reason we're so strict about the height requirement is because the room is designed for children who are in a certain range and it would not be safe for children who are too small or too tall to play in there. This limits the amount of children who are allowed to play in Smaland, disappoints those who wanted to play there, and is costly and time-consuming to clean up. Accidents do happen, of course, but if a child were to have an accident in the ball-pit, we have to close it. Also, if a child is wearing a pull-up or diaper, he or she might think that it is okay to have an accident. Our reasoning is that if you think they might have an accident, we have to believe that they might have an accident as well. If the coworker did manhandle a child, rest assured that that is not how we do things in Smaland and I am sure that appropriate action was taken.Īs far as the potty-training thing goes, if we know your child has been wearing a pull-up or diaper that day, we are not allowed to let them come play in Smaland. If a child needs help buttoning their pants or something, we have to make sure another coworker is watching us. We can't hug them, we can't have them sit in our laps, we don't touch them at all. I certainly can't speak for any other store, but in my store, none of the coworkers would ever lay a hand on the children. If the situation was reversed, how would you feel if we allowed in another parent without supervision? I think Anonymous would have some reservations about that as well. I have faced many parents who are frustrated and upset with this rule, but we have very strict guidlines that are meant to keep your children safe. (Not to say that we assume any parent is a threat- it's simply a precaution.) It is a possibility that those coworkers would not release the child because 1.) Anonymous did not sign/have the paperwork, or 2.) Her child was not in a position to leave (unclothed/soiled). The purpose of this is to ensure that no harm comes to the children. This includes everyone from Housekeeping to Maintanance. The guard Anonymous mentioned is a securty officer of the store who escorts everyone who is not cleared to work in Smaland into the room. I also work in Smaland and I can say that everything we do- all the rules and regulations- are for the safety of your children. Those 3 female employees should be laid off for being unprofessional, rude & totally unprepared for working with kids or people. Bottom line -we spent over 1.5 hours with this, got my baby trembling with crying & fear, felt threatened, humiliated, my basic rights impaired. The workers got scared & released my baby right before police arrived. They refused, saying they're NOT going to release my child until a guard is coming! At that point I got really aggravated, as the situation turned into kidnapping: THEY WERE HOLDING MY CHILD AGAINST MY WILL! I could see my girl becoming very distressed on the other side of the fence, and the rudest worker actually HANDLING her arm brutally (AGAINST their rule), trying to get her in the bathroom. We were informed my baby neede to go potty -which she does very well by herself- but they discovered her with pull-ups -and that's not allowed! Also it's not allowed for me to go inside & help her- so I decided go get her out. Less than 15 min after I checked her in, they call us back. Yesterday I put my 3 yrs old in Ikea Brooklyn Smaland.

#Smalland ikea burbank

0 notes

messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled.

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together? (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars.

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand.

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown.

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….”

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes.

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares.

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand.

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate.

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded.

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her.

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles.

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes.

“It’s- it’s gone….”

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly.

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water.

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple.

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged.

He smirked, “Oh, really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted.

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.”

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves.

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly.

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.”

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope.

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore.

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.”

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife.

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain.

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs.

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again.

“Shit.”

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table.

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen.

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack.

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured.

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked.

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek.

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly.

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed.

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed.

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.”

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled.

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned.

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.”

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered.

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted.

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted.

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

1K notes · View notes