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sawtastic-sideblog · 7 months

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Specs x Reader Gender Neutral Reader TW: violence, blood, mentions of death and school shooters, there may be more I have forgotten to mention so just a general proceed with caution.

"I'm looking for Sebastian Parker. Sebastian are you with us?" The psychic, Elise, calls to the room. You roll your eyes, not so subtly, and catch the eye of the bearded camera man, Tucker. He shakes his head and looks back at his screen as he continues to walk around the group of six gathered in a circle in your dining room.

Your older brother, Sebastian, died two years ago and your mom, Alice, hasn't been the same since. None of you have, but your mom seemed to be taking it the hardest. Sebastian was thirteen years older than you and from a previous relationship your mom had. Your dad, Patrick, always said Sebastian was his son. They were close. The year Sebastian turned eighteen, he went to your dad and asked him to be adopted. Your dad agreed, enthusiastically and cried hugging Sebastian and just repeating 'my son' over and over again. The night Sebastian died, your dad stood in his hospital room, stroking his head, repeating those words over and over again.

Your little sister, Olivia, sat across from you. She and Sebastian also had a good relationship. With a twenty one year gap between the two, Livvy and Sebastian were the closest. You alway envied their relationship. Sebastian was smart and loved to help Livvy with her homework. He was an English teacher at the local high school. Livvy would visit him in his class and would help him with presentations and fun stuff he'd do with his classes. You would help with costumes and behind the scenes stuff. Livvy and Sebastian belonged on stage together. Since his death, Livvy hasn't been as involved with the school's theater program, but still auditions and does the plays. "For Sebby," she says.

You and Sebastian were close, but only after he moved out. When you were born, he was a stubborn teenager who didn't want the attention of his mother and the only stable father figure he'd ever known taken away from him. He didn't want his weekends taken by some brat he'd have to watch, which was seldom if at all. After he moved out, you got sick with pneumonia and almost died in the hospital. He realized how much he cared for you and drove eighteen hours back from college to be with you. He transferred closer to be with the family and would let you stay at his apartment when your mom had bad days. Her pregnancy with Olivia was not an easy one. You and Sebastian grew close and went to all thr new movies, sport games, and community events together and with his friends. You were even the flower girl at Sebastian's best friend's wedding when you were twelve.

Your mom has Sebastian at fifteen and was a single mom until she met your dad. She struggled to get by and from a young age, Sebastian realized that they didn't have much and he would do odd jobs for people of the community. When your dad came to town, wanting a fresh start away from toxic parents and a crazy ex, Sebastian askedif he needed ay help with boxes "for a price." Your dad agreed and later met your mom. Your dad would always ask Sebastian to "help" with leaky faucets, painting walls, and working on cars. His job was to sit and make sure your dad was doing everything safely. Eventually your parents started dating and got married two years later. Your dad helped put her through nursing school and she has loved every second of her job. After being a single mom and her child, relying on each other, and practically growing up together, your mom and Sebastian were best friends. Losing him broke her. She stayed in bed for months. One day she was back to her normal self, making pancakes for everyone.

"What's this, honey? It's after ten at night?" Your dad asked, putting his keys in thr bowl by the door as you and Livvy put your coats on h hooks.

"Is it? Oh, well, I've been so busy. I guess I lost track of time," she replied with a smile on her face.

"What have you been doing?"

"I cleaned the whole house. Where have you been?"

"Work, school, dinner, and Livvy's play. Why are you cleaning the whole house? We did that this past weekend."

"Sebastian's coming home."

With that statement, all three hearts broke.

"Hey mom, it's late, let's get you to bed," you say and try to lead your mom to her room. After a little resistance you an your father manager to get your mom into bed. After that your mom kept insisting Sebastian would be coming home and recently she's started trying to contact him. Weird things started happening andit scared Olivia to the point she was always over at your apartment.

Last week, your dad woke up with scratches down his back. You immediately started looking for help and tracked down Elise. You arranged to meet at your parent's house tonight and Elise decided a seance would be the best course of action. You, being a skeptic, scoffed at her.

"There's no such things as ghosts."

"Ghosts, spirits, demons, they all exist, (Y/N), and we're the ones who are going to help you rid yourselves of them."

"No offense, Elise, but this is crazy."

"Sometimes crazy works."

So, now, you're in the dining room of your childhood home, having a seance to contact your dead brother. Still convinced that this is crazy, you look around the circle. You can't read your dad's face, but your mom has a look of hope, Livvy looks scared, Elise has a look of intense concentration, and her assistant, Spec, is writing at lightning speed as Elie speaks.

"Sebatian Parker. Follow the sound of my voice."

You scoff and try to coverit with a cough, but Tucker and Specs both give you looks. You put your gaze forward and close your eyes just as something grabs your chair and pulls it backwards. You let out a startled scream. You're lifted off the ground and feel your throat burn as if someone is choking you, but there is nobody there. You cough, gag, and sputter as Livvy watches in frozen horror, your mom stands with her hands over her mouth.

"Patrick, do something," she calls as she grips Livvy's arm tight. He leaps into action and tries to pull you off the wall. He's thrown across the room into Tucker and they both go down. Specs leaps from his seat and starts to rush toward you, but is thrown back into the China cabinet. The glass shatters and rains down around Spec's limp body. You try to scream, but nothing comes out.

Tucker sits up slowly. Once he's checked back into what's happening, he grabs his camera and springs to his feet, pointing the camera around the room.

"I command you to leave this family alone!"

You fall to the floor and take in a big gulp of air. Elise and her entire chair are tipped backwards and an invisible force starts to choke her. You mother and sister scream in terror and run to the corner and huddle together. Your dad sits up and watches, beary eyes and confused. You realize the danger Elise is in, so you run to the kitchen for salt and then the living room for an iron fire poking stick.

Hoping for the best, you swing the stick above Elise and she takes in a breath. You make a big circle out of the salt.

"Everyone in the ring! Don't mess it up!" You shout. Everyone does as they're told, except for Specs, who is still out.

"Steven! Steven, please, wake up!" Elise pleads. Specs' limp, bloody, body is dragged across the floor, up the wall, and is pinned to the ceiling. You all start shouting for him to wake up. He does and immediately starts to panic. He's thrown against the far wall and falls to the floor.

With every ounce of courage you have, you jump the salt line and swing the poking stick wildly as you run to Specs. You try to help him up, but you can't swing and lift at the same time. Luckily, Tucker followed you and lifts his friend up and over his shoulder. The three of you make your way back to the circle where Tucker sets Specs down. The China cabinet shakes and the broken glass rattles.

"Leave them alone!" Elise yells. A chair raises behind Elise. It charged forward and you shove her out of the way just in time for it to hit you in the face.

You open your eyes and it's the dining room, but darker. You look around and see misty figures. It's your parents, sister, Elise, and her two assistants.

"(Y/N)!" A voice calls, far in the distance. You stand up and walk through the house. The voice continues to call for you. You climb the stairs and walk to Sebastian's room. You open the door to be met with a lady in a black wedding dress. Her hands reach for your throat, but something shoves her aside. Sebastian stands in her place and grabs your hand. Together, you two run down the stairs and out of the house.

"The garage," you say as the two of you reach the lawn. The lady in black appears in the doorway of the house. Sebastian looks for the spare key and fumbles it into the lock.

"What now?" Sebastian asks as he locks the door behind him.

"Remember when I was a kid and you were in college you showed me how to make a flame thrower?"

"With the aerosol spray can and a lighter? Yeah, but what are you going to do?"

"Burn her," you say with determination as you grab cans of spray paint off a shelf. Sebastian grabs the lighters from a drawer and tosses you one. Sebatian unlocks the door as you hide. As the lady enters, Sebastian sends flames in her direction. She tries to back up, but you step out of your hiding spot and spark up your makeshift flamethrower. She vanishes and you both put out your flames. You look at each other and laugh. Sebastian holds his arms out for a hug, which you gladly accept.

"We miss you, you know?"

"I know. I've been watching. Mom kept talking to me. I heard her, but the lady in black wouldn't let me communicate."

"Well, now you can."

"No, Cesario, I don't think I can."

You smile almost melancholic at the nickname. You read Twelfth Night when you were in your first semester of college and hated it. You can't understand Shakespeare to save your life. You decided to watch it instead and you developed a crush on Johnny Young, the guy that was playing Viola/Cesario in the production. Since then, Sebastian has called you Cesario as a joke. You miss that.

Elise smiles warmly as you come into view, holding Sebastian close to your side. You look down to where your father is holding your head in his lap, your mom is crying into your chest, and your sister is staring at you, fear etched on her delicate features.

"Hello, Sebastian. (Y/N)," Elise greets. Everyone looks to the direction Elise is looking.

"Where are we?" You ask.

"I call it The Further."

"Is it the afterlife?"

"Something like that, I suppose. I know seeing your brother again has been good for you, but you need to get back into your body," Elise says. You nod in understanding as dark figures shift in the shadows. You turn towards Sebastian and grab his hands.

"I love you, Seb. I miss you every single day. Nothing will ever change that. I wish I was there to stop the shooter from getting to you, but you were a hero. All the kids were fine. Physically anyway. Emotionally they're all traumatized," you say, tears cascading down your cheeks. Sebastian chuckles at your last statement and wipes the tears away.

"I'm glad they're relatively okay. I love you, too. Make sure mom, dad, and Liv know I love them as well?" Sebastian asks. You nod and give him one last hug before walking to your body. There's a flash of light that engulfs you.

Your eyes flutter open to see your family hovering over you. You sit up an hug your mom.

"He loves you guys," you say into your mom's shoulder. "He saved me too. He pushed the woman in black away and he taught me how to make a flamethrower."

"You did that when you were little. You burned down my rose bush," your dad says through his tears.

"We used them on the lady in black."

"Makes sense to me," Olivia says hugging you.

"My son," your dad whispers as his arms wrap around you.

A little while later, you walk into th bathroom to find a shirtless Specs picking glass from his back. Ot at last attempting to.

"Need some help?" You ask. The man jumps and turns to you. He sheepishly nods ans his cheeks turn red. You take the tweezers from him and start pulling small glass shards from his back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says with a laugh, "I've had worse. Actually, no, not really, this is probably the worst."

"Well, a ghost threw you into a China cabinet, so I'm not surprised."

"Still a skeptic?"

"No, but I know not to mess with that stuff."

"Smart cookie, you are. Ow."

"Sorry," you say before chuckling. "I don't think I've ever hears a more pitiful 'ow' in my life."

"I don't see a point in screaming. It won't do any good."

"Could be quite pleasurable. Let me know I'm doing a good job," you joke. Specs turns around to face you.

"Is that an invitation, (Y/N)?" He asks quietly. He moves to your ear and whispers "because I may have to take you up on that."

Your breath catches for a moment before you make Specs turn back around. Your cheeks heat up as you start pulling glass from the taller man's shoulder blade.

"In your dreams."

"I can't wait."

You take the next twenty minutes or so to pull glass from his back. When you're certain you got it all, you leave Specs to clean up. Your mom provided towels and your father and sister ran down to the twenty four hour gas station to get bandages and pain killers. Tuck walks over with an ice pack wrapped in a towel and presses it gently to your head.

"He likes you. He's been talking about you since we met last week. He wanted to ask you on a date, but doesn't know how to ask. Or when to ask. Obviously, he couldn't during all of this mess," Tucker gestures vaguely around at the mess of shatter glass, a splintered chair, and blood.

"Well, he was right in that aspect," you say.

"You should've heard him the day we met," He says before pitching his voice up to mimic his friend. "Tuck, did you see (Y/N)? Do you think they'd say yes if I asked them out? They had th prettiest eyes I've-"

Tucker is cut off by the bathroom door opening and Specs walking out. Shock, hurt, and embarrassment on his. He opens his mouth to say something before shoving past you and Tucker.

"I think you messed up, there, buddy," you say as Tucker just nods and walks into the bathroom with the towels your mom gave him and his spare clothes.

"He'll get over it," he called as he closed the door. Feeling bad for Specs, you go to look for him and find him on the back porch steps. You grab a blanket from thr back of the couch and walk outside. You wrap the blanket around his shoulders. He flinched from the sudden coverage on his back.

"It's too cold for you to be out here shirtless and with wet hair."

"So?"

"So? So, you'll get sick and miss our date."

He turns his head so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. You give him a soft smile and he smiles back. His face turns serious as he looks back across the yard at the old swing and play fort. He stands and hold out his hand. You take it and you both walk across the yard. Specs climbs into the fort and turns back to you with a goofy smile. You follow him up and you both sit facing the house where you see your mom and Elise talking.

"How did your brother die?"

"Some kid decided that if he couldn't have his ex girlfriend, nobody could. She was in Sebastian's class and one of the other teachers warned him and told him who it was. His class hid the girl behind a bookshelf and when the kid tried to come in and found the door locked, he shot through the doorknob and walked in. Seb stood up for the class. He blocked the kid from them. The kid kept threatening him, but Seb held his ground. The police came in at about that time and it scared the kid and he pulled the trigger. He claimed it was an accident. He went in with thr intention to kill someone. There was no accident. Seb was rushed to the hospital and died three days later. He was a hero. At graduation that year, all the students gave my mom a single red rose. The ones in his class that day gave my mom these folders full of letters written from themselves, their friends, and their families. They gave us some good memories to look back on and kind words of support and encouragement. It was sweet."

Specs' thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. He pulls you into his side for a hug, which you gratefully accept and return. The sliding glass door opens.

"Hey, we got stuff for Specs," Livvy's voice carries through the night. Specs let's you go and turns to slide down the slide. You follow him again and you walk to the house. Specs takes a seat backwards in a chair. He winces as your mom takes the blanket off his shoulders, the fibers from the fluffy blanket sticking to the fluid oozing from the wounds.

"You okay?" You ask, concerned. Specs nods and rests his forehead on the back of the chair. Livvy pulls you to the side to start cleaning up. Tucker and your dad pick up thr cabinet as you sweep the glass and Livvy picks up the broken chair.

"Can't belive (Y/N) broke this with their head," Livvy laughs.

"Yeah, and they've got a pretty good bruise to show for it," your dad replies.

"It's not that bad is it?" You ask as you sweep the glass into the dustpan.

"Well, it's not great," Livvy says. You set the broom and dustpan aside and make your way to the bathroom. You're looking at your forehead when the door opens.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Specs jokes. You smile as you make eye contact in the mirror.

"You alright?"

"Are you? You have a bruise on your head. You should be checked for a concussion," he says. You turn toward him and he grabs both sides of your head. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I like your shirt," you say, pulling at his Star Wars t-shirt.

"Star Wars fan?"

"Nope. Never seen a single movie."

"Okay, well, that's what we will be doing for our date."

"Watching Star Wars?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Specs leans closer to you and you loom up at him. Your eyes flutter closed. You can feel his breath fan over your face. A knock sounds at the door, breaking you two apart.

"(Y/N), you in there?" Your mom's voice calls. "I want to look at your head, darling."

"Yeah, mom. I'm in here," you answer. You barely open the door and slip through. Your mom checks you over and you agree to go to the hospital.

You and your dad walk out with Elise, Tucker, and Specs. You manage to pull Specs behind a tree as your dad and Elise talk and Tucker loads the van.

"Give me your phone," you say, holding out your hand. He does so and you put your number in. You two talk a few more minutes.

"Specs, let's go," Tucker yells at the tree. You bid him goodbye and he starts to walk away. You and your father walk to the car. Before Tucker can drive away the side door of the van opens. Specs jogs across the yard to you, spins you around, and crashes his lips into yours. You kiss him back just as he pulls away.

"See you Saturday," he smiles and pecks your lips one more time before running back to the van. You watch the van drive down the street as the sun begins to rise.

"Got yourself a boyfriend, huh, (Y/N)," your dad teases.

"Shut up," you say as you get into the car.

#this is my first specs fic #im watching the mule as i finish writing this #insidious #specs insidious #steven specs fisher #specs x reader #Adam's Fic Posting Time #leigh whannell

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honorsongs · 2 years

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Canon to my fic, Silver White Winters (That Melt into Spring)

How The Codpire Came to be

(And also the main reason Jimmy hates Salmon)

Now, I explained the origins of Lizzie’s axolotl people with the use of the Heart. If you don’t know, the Heart is basically a minecraft conduit that helped humans become the first axolotl hybrids. These are the ancestors of the people that make up Lizzie’s Ocean Empire. What you don’t know is that this heart wasn’t the only one of its kind.

Long ago, several centuries after the start of the Ocean Empire, but before the Cod Empire was even a twinkle in King Jimmy’s eye, the Mythlands, a tiny, coastal empire, was starting to expand its reach. The king at the time--the name does not matter, for it was so long ago and few truly remember it--had decided to send a small group of colonizers to a nearby swampland, hoping to harvest the resources of the swamp for further trade endeavors.

You see, the swamp is home to a great deal of resources. Other than having excellent farmland, the swamp is also a great source of slime, fish, and most importantly, light blue dye. Light blue dye was a rarity in those days, very few could afford it, as it was so rare, but the swamp had tons of it.

When the group of humans (and a small handful of fae) arrived in the new lands, they were quick to build their homes. They were but small shacks that weren’t nearly as grand as their homes they back in the Mythlands, but they weren’t planning on staying long. After all, their contract required them to stay for just 5 years, in order to get established. After that, they would be able to return home.

Unbeknownst to them, most of the people would not ever be returning home.

Also unbeknownst to the people, down in the deepest pond in the swamp, further down than any normal person would be able to swim, was a small, broken and beating heart.

The broken heart began to warp the people of the swampland, but not in the same way that the Heart changed the great people of the Ocean Empire. No no, this transition was impure and broken. Those who were humans began to grow patches of grey scales along their bodies, especially on their faces and arms. Small gills formed on their necks, though they weren’t strong enough to be useful underwater. The fae were luckier. Being of a more magical type of people, the fae magic helped to stabilize the transformation. Their scales took on a more vibrant red color, as opposed to the sickly grey color. Their gills, thought they could not breathe underwater for long, were strong enough to let them breathe underwater for several minutes, maybe even an hour, if they were lucky.

The biggest difference between the humans and the fae, though, was that the humans were dying and the fae were not.

The corrupted, broken heart, was slowly killing the humans, but the fae did not seem to be effected in the same way. What’s more, when the Mythlands allowed the humans to be treated by either fae or human doctors, the "disease” spread to the doctors as well, but no such fate fell upon those treating the fae patients. As a result, the fae were brought back to the Mythlands, and the humans were left for dead.

Jimmy heard of the poor people, and begged his sister to allow him to help them. With the help of the Heart, he was able to stabilize the transformation of the humans, but he was unable to revert them back to their normal selves. As a result, the Mythlands would not accept them back, fear that their “disease” would spread kept the poor people out. The humans envied the fae, whose magic had allowed them to transform into salmon hybrids, a more stable and hardy hybrid, as opposed to the cod hybrid.

But being a cod hybrid had many advantages, as it turned out. Not only could they not freeze, no matter how cold they got, they also gained incredible hunting prowess, especially underwater. Not to mention that, where the salmon hybrids could only stay underwater for an hour at most, the cod hybrids were perfectly fine living their entire lives completely underwater or on land.

Jimmy could not, in good faith, leave these new hybrids alone to fend for themselves. And so, when they offered him the place as their leader, he graciously accepted. He did not want to be like the distant ruler that sent them to their deaths though, and, soon, he became the people’s leader. Formalities were a thing of both his and his people’s past. Jimmy created his first council only a decade into his rule, a mixture of people his citizens chose, and ones he had chosen for himself. With the aid of the Ocean Empire, the Cod Empire was able to grow and flourish. And though the Cod Empire may not have been the strongest of empires, it was able to secure alliances, offering the many goods that the Mythlands had been hoping to be able to use for trade themselves.

Eventually, after the Grimlands was founded, most of the salmon hybrids and fae migrated to live there, but the Codpire’s relationship with both the Mythlands and the Salmon people have been tainted ever since the Codpire’s founding. This is why, even centuries later, Jimmy can’t seem to get along with the new Mythlands leader, or salmon hybrids. He also has a great distaste for salmon in general.

As for the broken heart, Jimmy dug it up, and it was promptly destroyed, dropped in a pool of lava, deep in the nether.

#honor’s rambles #empires smp fanfic #empires smp headcanons #empires jimmy #empires lizzie #cod empire #silver white winters au #sww au #i'm actually really proud of this head canon #i have a lot more of this kind of thing coming in the future actually so if you'd like to see more let me know

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simplyotometrash · 3 years

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Some Obey Me Headcanons!

Part One!!

Lucifer

Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.

It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born.

The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.

Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.

All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.

He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.

With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.

He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.

Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.

Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.

His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith.

It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.

A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo.

Mammon

Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.

He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money.

But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.

But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.

He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father.

His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.

After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.

He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.

He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.

He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished.

MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.

He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.

Leviathan

He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.

He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.

The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse.

He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.

He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is.

The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.

MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.

They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.

He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself.

But baby steps are needed.

He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.

He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.

His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.

He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore.

Satan

He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.

All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother.

Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.

As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.

He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.

He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.

These three are the middle children, they stick together.

He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.

The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.

Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).

He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.

He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.

His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core.

Asmo

If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands.

Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.

He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.

Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.

And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.

He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.

When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time.

But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up.

While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it.

His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.

Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.

But MC wasn’t interested or affected.

And that was what was most attractive to him.

They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.

He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs.

He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other.

One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.

He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice.

Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.

He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo

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youareshauni · 3 years

Text

Silly BNHA x Danny Phantom crossover with little to no angst, the main four teenagers causing chaos in BNHA, confusing heroes, villains, and the government alike, and my own ideas + interpretations.

- Valerie, Tucker, Sam, and Danny all agreed to act as vigilantes together, but only if they come across crime. They don’t seek trouble out. - How much that works is left up to your imagination. - Valerie has been in the know for months now and they’ve worked things mostly out between each other.

- They’ve got some friendly ghosts with them, like Dora, which makes their temporary stay in this universe much easier.

- As in, they’ve created a home in a stable pocket dimension no outsiders can get in. Also, language translation.

- The adult-ish ghosts get identities and fake histories and documents - courtesy of Tucker and Technus - to be able to work, because they want something to do.

- Also, with the friendly ghosts’ help shadow-working with them, all of the teens appear to wield multiple quirks. Sam manipulates plants and shadows, Tucker controls light and software, and Valerie controls hardware and flies / hovers. They all have invisibility and intangibility.

- Valerie does the air equivalent of wheelies and the likes on her board in the sky to draw attention to specific places, like when a fire is burning in a building. She also smashes her board against villains’ faces, who can take it, when they’re attacking kids. She likes to take kids on rides when they want and uses it to save people. The board is the envy of every tech company and tech expert, but even if somebody should be able to catch it, it’d just ghostly teleport into safety.

- Sam does some intense urban gardening in the bleaker city parts, creating entire parks with plants that can’t be destroyed (All Might tried) or poisoned. These include those with edible fruit and vegetables. (Thankfully no ectoplasma taint.) Any attempty to wall the plants in leads to broken walls. Villains mugging innocent people get wrapped up in vines and / or shadows.

- Tucker hacks the government for fun and out of boredom, since the emergence of quirks led to technology stalling. So the kids discover early the government and Hero Commission’s corruption. He learns how to discreetly send money to people in need or get them important documents, like Hardison in Leverage. Tucker’s light powers help Sam’s plants grow and they also heal. When using his light, he gets a halo. Many come to think he’s a guarding angel.

- All Might is panicking because they are displaying ‘multiple quirks’. AfO wants their ‘quirks’. The Hero Commission wants to control them or get rid of them. The news: Ghost powers and quirks are unrelated. This universe also doesn’t have the tech to deal with ghosts.

- Danny has fun with this after several weeks of cat-and-mouse when a hero manages to slap quirk-inhibitors onto his wrist. He just grins smugly while he sinks into the floor, stealing the inhibitors.

- Valerie says, “Is this supposed to do something?” with her own new ‘accessories’ on her wrist, still controlling her board. She continues to show up the heroes while rescuing kids, all who adore her.

- Since superpowers are normal in this universe, Danny gets more comfortable with being spooky.

- Should the LoV try to recruit / catch them, they will get pranked to hell and back. Also haunted. The group stops all silliness once they learn just what AfO intends with the LoV and the Nomu.

- Overhaul, though. Overhaul instantly gets to see the worst of Danny’s horror after the others have saved Eri. They destroy every formula, all data, almost each sample of the quirk-destroying drugs except for the very few they take. *glares at AfO*

- Several important and secret documents from the Hero Commission get leaked. Documents that paint them in a horrible light. Whoops!

#danny phantom #boku no hero academia #bnha #crossover #long post

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flautistsandpeonies · 3 years

Text

Reformation Part 1

Read the Previous Chapter [Here]

Word Length: 4,877

Summary: A parting from Lotus Pier and a therapeutic stay at the Cloud recesses.

As the morning sun rose steadily in the sky, the sound of cultivators waking from restless sleeps and the flurry of the previous evening filled the spacious halls of Lotus Pier. Disciples dressed in their robes and polished their blades while servants shuffled about the sect with crates of materials for the competition only hours away.

The gates to the pier were open as always; civilians also getting ready for the morning couldn’t help but peak inside the tall, polished wooden doors. The grounds of the sect were overloaded with disciples of some of the minor sects. Because of the events from yesterday, some had changed their minds about competing in the competition, feeling Lotus Pier was not a healthy environment for their juniors and opted to cut their losses and return home.

Most damning however, were the group of Lan sect members preparing to depart with Wei WuXian amongst them.

“Are you sure you want to ride on your sword back to the Cloud Recesses, Young Master Wei? One of us wouldn’t mind carrying you, “Lan XiChen stated while watching the young man unsheathe his sword

“No, no, I can fly just fine, no worries, “Wei WuXian replied, giving him a small smile in return

“We’re just worried about your wounds, “XiChen started but paused, walking over and placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “Don’t...be afraid to ask for help.”

Blinking in surprise, Wei WuXian could only nod slowly in acquiescence.

“The sooner we leave the better. We’ll have Lan Yu look over your wounds, “Lan Qiren spoke while fixing his qiankun bag over his shoulder

“So, you really are leaving, “Wei WuXian, hearing the familiar voice, turned to be faced with a glowering Jiang WanYin

The Jiang sect heir was covered in a cloak of envy and enmity, his eyes were alight, almost electrified with emotion. Dressed in rich robes befitting his station, the cast and sling around Jiang WanYin’s arm was as bright as a dead rat in a pile of jewels.

“Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian frowned

“Father told me I’d be head disciple until you decided to return, “Jiang WanYin sneered, “Guess I’m supposed to pick up your scraps from now on.”

“It’s only for a few months, Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian replied, “I’ll....I’ll be back before you know it.”

The sight of Jiang WanYin near Wei WuXian immediately put every cultivator on the grounds on alert; apprehension filled the air as they noticed that the young cultivator had once again acquired Zidian from his mother.

“I’m supposed to lead this competition now, “Jiang WanYin continued, “Though I suppose if you didn’t start whining about your wounds, you’d still do it before you left, huh? After all, it is your work father is showing off.”

Sighing, Wei WuXian sheathed his sword and walked a bit to Jiang WanYin, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You should be happy Uncle Jiang is giving you this opportunity. If he sees how capable you are, he might let you keep the title of head disciple by the time I get back.”

Slapping his hand away, Jiang WanYin growled, “What’s the use of being head disciple now! Now that everyone thinks your some amazing cultivator and I’m some useless twit. Everyone’s gonna think I’m only head disciple cause father’s pitying me, but I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it!?”

Face flushed red in anger, he truly was the spitting image of his mother. Breathing harshly and glaring down his shixiong, the sect heir twisted the ring on his finger, agitation in his eyes.

Bringing a couple a fingers to his head, Wei WuXian massaged his temples, “Jiang Cheng, just...*sigh* I...should go. I’ll see you in a few months.”

About to turn back to the Lans, Wei WuXian was caught in a harsh grip by his lapels.

“Leave? Leave so you can evade responsibility for the shit-show you created?!, “Jiang WanYin shouted at him

Grabbing his shidi’s wrist, Wei WuXian demanded, “Let me go.”

A few senior disciples of the minor sects made way to step forward, however, none were as close as the Lans, who moved together as one near the ensuing conflict.

“My mother went into seclusion because of you!, “Jiang WanYin screeched, “Have you heard what people are saying about her? They’re calling her a lunatic and a demented woman with authority! Am I just supposed to stand there and take it while her integrity is being slandered? How dare you try abandon responsibility and go off with the Lan Sect, have you no loyalty to YunmengJiang!?”

Lan WangJi stepped in front of Wei WuXian, blocking Jiang WanYin’s assault, “Yu-Furens actions are her own, “He said tersely, “She suffers her own consequences.”

“Suffering her own consequences? She’s being tormented because this snake couldn’t help but show off! But I guess that doesn’t matter to the Lan Sect, now does it? You have that big library filled with who knows what; you probably want this deserter to fill an entire new section, huh?, “Jiang WanYin sneered in Lan WangJi’s face

“Wei Ying may choose to share his knowledge with whomever he wishes. The Lan Sect will endeavor to support his research. He needn’t fear abuse for elevating our collective knowledge of cultivation, “Lan WangJi spoke low and deep

Eyes widening in anger, Zidian cracked against the Jiang heir’s finger. For the slightest moment, the grounds were filled with the thoughts of a Jiang/Lan warfare if Jiang WanYin decided to strike the second heir to the notorious sect.

“Enough!, “Wei WuXian exclaimed, sensing the growing hostility between the two, “Lan Zhan, let’s just go. Please.”

“Mn, “Lan WangJi replied and raised an arm in the direction his clansmen were waiting, “After you.”

Giving a sideways glance at Jiang WanYin, Wei WuXian simply nodded at the man, knowing words would only escalate the situation. Jiang WanYin scoffed at him, doubling back to the inner halls of the sect.

Turning on their heels, Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian rejoined their group and mounted their swords. In seconds, a huddle of white - and one purple - clad disciples were flying through the air.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How often did the Violet Spider whip you, Wei WuXian, “the Lan’s chief doctor, Lan Yu asked while running spiritual energy laced hands down the man’s back

Laying shirtless on an examining table, Wei WuXian said nothing while she examined his injuries, a look of indifference upon his face. Having unbandaged his wounds, his back was still bright in color, draining to a light pink over the many hours.

“I’ll remind you that gossip is forbidden amongst the Lans, Young Master Wei, “Lan Yu stated after there was no reply, “You do not have to concern yourself yourself with Madam Yu’s reputation while in our presence; I simply want to know more about my patient’s history.”

Pursing his lips, Wei WuXian still did not reply.

Giving a low hum, Lan Yu retracted their hands and step to the side to retrieve salve and new bandages.

“I hope that you will come to trust us, Young Master Wei, “Lan Yu replied in a low voice as they started to apply the salve, “We Lans haven’t invited you here simply because of your research.”

“I never said you did, “was the first thing Wei WuXian said the entire time he’d be there

“True, you didn’t, “the doctor unfurled the bandages and started to wrap them tight around his person, “I just hope you don’t think that’s the reason. Had anyone else been in your position, I’m sure our Twin Jades would have helped them all the same.”

“Yeah, that does sound like them, “Wei WuXian cracked his neck and then joked, “I thought there would’ve been rule forbidding interaction with me by now, though.”

Pinning the bandages with a couple of clips, Lan Yu gave Wei WuXian a final once over with their spiritual energy.

“Everything looks to be in working order, “they nodded in satisfaction

“That’s good, “Wei WuXian gave them a wide grin, “Now Lan Zhan can stop giving me that doe-eyed look.”

“Doe-eyed?, “Lan Yu raised a brow

A knock sounded at the door, “Lan Yu, may we enter?, “Lan XiChen’s voice was on the other side

“Yes, of course, “they replied while giving the Jiang cultivator another inquisitive glance

Stepping inside, the older jade nodded at the doctor before turning his smile toward the man on the table. Lan WangJi tentatively stepped into the room, standing side by side with his brother.

“Uncle had to head down to Caiyi to check on the Waterborne Abyss, but he promises to be back later today, “Lan XiChen started, “WangJi and I have a night-hunt to get to, but he wanted to check on Young Master Wei before we left.”

“Aw, Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian said with a teasing lilt in this voice, “I told you I was fine, no need to hold up your night-hunt checking on little old me.”

Lan WangJi blinked at him before looking to Lan Yu, “Is he?”

Wei WuXian rolled his eyes while slipping off the examination table. Walking over to his robes set side and folded neatly by an assistant on a nearby chair, he began to dress.

“Infection has not set in and his meridians are stable, “Lan Yu stated more to the two other Lans than Wei WuXian, “I recommend Young Master Wei take some time out of his schedule to visit the Cold Springs to help accelerate his healing.”

Lan WangJi nodded and gave a bow to the doctor, “I will make him go there as much as possible.”

“Ai-ya, Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian gaped at his words and put his hands on his hips, “You say that like I’m gonna run away or something.”

“Wei Ying declined Lan Yu’s treatment when we got here this morning, “Lan WangJi gave a glare to the other man, “I had to drag you here.”

The doctor turned to raise a concerned brow at him; Wei WuXian blushed and turned his head away.

“Young Master Wei..., “Lan Yu started

“I’m fine, I’m fine. All of you treating me like some porcelain vase, ah,what am I supposed to think, “Wei WuXian waved them away, “Didn’t you say you had a night-hunt? Best get going, hmm?”

“It shouldn’t take long, “Lan XiChen bowed to the doctor in thanks as well, “We should be back after breakfast tomorrow.”

Sliding on his outer robe, WeI WuXian replied, “Then....I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

...

The next day, Wei WuXian found himself in the Hanshi with Lan Xichen, a sea of cultivation notes strewn about the desk and themselves.

“I never thought you’d let me hold Liebeng, Zewu-jun, “Wei WuXian caressed the flute with a curious look on this face

To his side, Lan XiChen was giving the same amount of attention to Wei WuXian’s ChenQing.

“She’s beautiful; did you craft it yourself, “XiChen fiddled with the jade token on its tassel

“Mhmm, took me forever to find the right piece of bamboo, then even longer to purify and etch in blessings, “WuXian smiled twirling Liebeng

“Is there any specific song you want to play?, “WuXian handed the white xiao back to its owner while retrieving his dizi from the first jade’s hand

“We can play anything really, but I’d like to try a few of my clan’s techniques, “XiChen started, “I’m curious if it’s a instrumental difference or a personal difference in the effects of the song.”

“Right, right, so then we could start with Cleansing or Clarity?, “XiChen and WuXian started to shuffle through the mountain of notes they had accumulated

A light knock sounded at the door before a servant came in, “Young Master Wei, you have received some letters.”

“Already?, “the young man raised a brow while rising from the piles of parchments, “Well, thank you for bringing them.”

Taking the satchel from their hands, he shifted through the parcels. Prim folded letters filled the bag.

An uncomfortable frown found its way onto Wei WuXian’s face, “Ah, these people don’t know when to quit.”

Taking a letter from the tote, the official sign of the PingyangYao sect shined back at him.

XiChen had a bemused smiled watching as a cloud of frustration lined Wei WuXian’s brow.

“That seems like a lot to get through; I can help you pen a few replies, “he tried his best not to laugh

“Ah, Zewu-jun is a life saver.”

...

A few days later, Wei WuXian was asked to attend to a class with Lan Qiren. Being awoken at the ridiculous hour of six in the morning, Wei WuXian found himself in a room filled with juniors not unlike his own lectures seven years ago.

Resisting a yawn, he greeted them, “Morning Little Lans.”

“Good morning, Senior Wei, “the white clad disciples bowed in greeting before sitting down in perfect Lan posture, not reacting to his nickname for them

“We still have a few minutes before your Lan-laoshi gets here, “Wei WuXian started, sitting on Lan Qiren’s desk in the front of the classroom, “Before we’re all stuck in here for hours, any questions?”

The younger disciples suddenly piqued up, all rising from their seats, faces a light with curiosity. Being too young to attend the infamous lecture and banquet, they were left in the Cloud Recesses to read the materials. After, they were overwhelmed with gossip and tales from Caiyi town, and now the center of the commotion was right in front of them.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“How are your back wounds, Senior Wei?”

“How many night-hunts did you have to go on to write all those books?”

Surrounding the older man, the disciples hammered on with their questions and didn’t notice Lan Qiren stepping into the room. A notch appeared on the older man’s forehead as he watched the tornado of students in the front of the class.

“How often were you whipped?”

“Do you plan on going back to your sect, or staying here?”

“Enough!, “Lan Qiren’s voice boomed making all of them flinch, “All of you will copy Etiquette fifty times after class.”

Wei WuXian chuckled at the now dejected faces of the students as they returned to their seats, “Ah, Lan-Laoshi, don’t you think that’s a bit much? They were just curious is all.”

“Should I assign you lines for corrupting our youth?, “The man was stern faced, taping his hand with a scroll, scowling at the younger man, “I also don’t think you finished from the last time you were here; shall I re-instate the punishment?”

Face suddenly covered with sweat, Wei WuXian addressed the students, “Now, now, listen to your Lan-laoshi. I’m....gonna go find your second young master. Where might he be? The library? The library. See you Little Lans.”

Striding out of the room, the students were agape as the Jiang cultivator made a quick escape.

“Senior Wei!, “they cried, “Aren’t you supposed to help teach today?”

“Don’t forget your essays tonight!, “Wei WuXian’s voice called from far off

...

A week later, Wei WuXian found himself in a field with Lan WangJi, along with a few hundred guests.

“Ah, do you really have an entire field of rabbits, Lan Zhan?, “Shuffling through the tall grass, the little balls of fluff jumped here and there to avoid the large human man

“Not mine, “Lan WangJi replied, “I only come to feed them everyone once in a while.”

“And to think that you refused the two I gave you..., “Turning with a large grin , Wei WuXian was suddenly awestruck, “Wait...are those?”

Cuddled in Lan WangJi’s arms were two rabbits, one black and one white. The black rabbit happily kicked its feet against Lan WangJi’s arms while crunching on a piece of lettuce. The white one, on the other hand, chewed sedately, nose twitching at it’s companion.

“Wei Ying’s rabbits, “Lan WangJi brought them closer to Wei WuXian

Taking the white rabbit with one hand, Wei WuXian felt his cheeks flaring up and rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, Lan Zhan, you must really like rabbits, hmm?”

“ Xiongzhang brought the rest here; I feed them and play music sometimes, “WangJi said, bending down to sit primly in the grass

The Second Jade of Lan was immediately surrounded from all angles by the army of white fur.

Following suit, Wei WuXian was enamored to watch with his chin in his hands, Lan WangJi feed each and every rabbit their own piece of carrot or lettuce, tapping those trying to steal from others on their small little noses.

Covering his face with his hands, Wei WuXian entire body heated up, ‘Lan Zhan, you really are too cute!, ‘he thought

“Wei Ying?, “Peeking through his eyes, Lan WangJi was staring at him

“Huh, oh nothing, “taking the white rabbit back into his hands, he spoke, “so, what’s your name, hmm.”

The white rabbit didn’t seem to be impressed, eyes solely focused on its companion, watching as it claimed Lan WangJi’s lap as its throne, swatting away any other bunny that tried to join it.

“Eh, it’s ignoring me, “shaking the animal lightly, WuXian snarked, “It’s Lan Zhan in rabbit form!”

“Then Yin (Silver) is Wei Ying, “WangJi replied in a dead pan voice

“Yin?, “scratching the white rabbit behind the ears, WuXian gave WangJi a questioning glance

“Yin, “the Second Jade placed a gentle hand on the black rabbit running down its back, “Very energetic. Very mischievous. Ate one of Xiongzhang ’s letters from Chifeng-zun once.”

Snickering, he brought the white rabbit eye level, “So what’s rabbit Lan Zhan’s real name?”

“Yun (Cloud), “WangJi replied, “Only likes playing with Yin.”

The white rabbit illustrated this by swatting at Wei WuXian’s nose with its paw, almost glaring at him.

“Hmm, you want me to put you down, “WuXian grinned flopping the rabbits ears, “you want your friend? Well you can’t have him!”

Reaching over, Lan WangJi saved the rabbit from Wei WuXian’s grasp and placed it in his lap with it’s companion. Raising his arms once more, he captured Wei WuXian’s hands in his.

Wei WuXian grew quiet, staring down at their hands clasped together.

“Lan Zhan?, “was all he could say

“Wei Ying, “Lan WangJi said intertwining their fingers

Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi were once again staring into one another eyes. Silver and Golden eyes radiated with an untold amount of emotions.

Wei WuXian felt his cheeks heating up once more, "Lan Zhan...you-”

Letting go of his hands, Lan WangJi gently shoved the rabbits to the ground and stood with a flourish, “Lunch is in a few hours, let’s rest your wounds in the Cold Springs until then”

Turning around, Lan WangJi walked out of the field as fast as the Lan rules allowed him. Mouth agape, Wei WuXian could only stand on clumsy feet and hurry after him.

“Eh? Ah! Lan Zhan, what? Wait for me!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wei-Xiong How are you? Are you okay? I’ve been missing sleep over this whole thing, I can’t get that banquet out of my head. I knew Yu-Furen could be callous, but I didn’t think that she be that cruel. And to think that she’s been doing this to you for years, I’m sick.

I will say that I’m a bit angry at you; why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I’m your friend aren’t I? I care about you and want you to be okay. If you had said something, I would have tried to talk to Da-ge, maybe we could’ve, oh I don’t know....

Da-ge and I plan on coming to visit XiChen-ge in a few weeks. When I get there, I am taking you to Caiyi Town for some Emperors Smile. Wishing you well. --- Nie Huaisang

Nie-Xiong I am well and I admit I missed the beauty of the Cloud Recesses. The Lan Sect is as beautiful as ever, but, as expected, still no one can match up to the Twin Jades.

I do not wish to worry you, Nie-Xiong. I promise that I am fine and this situation is simply blown out of proportion.

You would not believe these Lans. I can’t go anywhere without someone asking me if I need assistance or worrying about my wounds - which are healing nicely and quickly might I add. Even Lan Zhan, our ever present piece of living jade, keeps around me. Not that I mind his company, but he’s never seemed to want to be around me before, always telling me to “get lost”. What am I supposed to do with this new Lan Zhan?

I will say though that the Cloud Recesses is lacking in the other sort of material that you and I enjoy. If you would be so inclined, dear friend, would you send me a package? I promise your discretion will be repaid in full. ---Wei WuXian

...

a-Xian It has only been a few weeks, but I can feel your absence greatly. I miss your smile; it always seemed to brighten my day. I cannot wait for your time in the Cloud Recesses to be over; I’ve bought some rare chilies from the market; I plan on making you a special pot of pork rib and lotus root soup when you get back.

a-Cheng has taken to pushing the shidis like mother; the other day he made them train with weights for six hours straight and then made them run the entire training grounds twenty times. He has been very gloomy ever since you left, and I think this is his way to vent. I think he’s still a bit sad that he can’t practice his sword forms, due to his cast.

Father rarely leaves his office these days other than to eat and sleep. A servant has told me that the minor sect leaders keep hounding him about his lack of action with mother. Sect Leader He even said that our clan was dishonorable for mother’s treatment of you. Father looks so haggard whenever we have dinner together.

And that’s not all. Last week, one of the merchants we normally trade with retracted their contract with us. We will no longer be receiving the amount of talisman paper, inkstones, and supplies that we normally get.

Mother is still in seclusion, but she converses with Madam Jin by letter. I happened upon one; Jin GuangShan is refusing to re-instate my betrothal to ZiXuan again. Due to the banquet, he believes that the Jiang Sect’s reputation would only taint LanlingJin’s; Madam Jin and mother are both enraged. --- Jiang Yanli

Shijie I am healing nicely, so nicely, I will probably end up leaving early. The Cloud Recesses are nice, but making sure my Shijie is happy is even nicer! I do not want you to be sad, and I’m sorry that this situation has stressed you so.

Tell Jiang Cheng that the shidis need positive reinforcement and breaks; otherwise they will strain themselves and possibly harm their cores. Do not tell him I said that.

I myself have been receiving letters from the minor sects. If Uncle Jiang wants, I could take on some of his work load, just send the letters to me here. It is unfortunate that the merchant has decided they no longer wish to work with us, but I’m certain we can find another in time. Since the minor sects are rallying against YunmengJiang it is only profitable to be one of the only merchants not on our payroll.

XianXian cannot wait to taste your extra spicy pork rib and and lotus root soup! I’ll even bring some jars of Emperor’s Smile back for us all to enjoy. There’s a vendor who sells loquats, so I’ll make sure to buy some baskets and pastries when I leave. ---Your Forever Three Year Old XianXian

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“WuXian, are you sure you’re up for a nighthunt?, “Lan XiChen raised a brow at the grinning man

“Zewu-jun, no offense, but if I don’t get off this mountain tonight, I’m going to scream, “Wei WuXian huffed in bemusement, “I can’t stay cooped up here forever; besides, it’s just some walking corpses, right?”

“Mm, “XiChen replied, “the villagers have barricaded themselves in the northern villages to escape, the southern town has been completely run over.”

Climbing upon their swords, the three cultivators and their entourage sailed through the night sky. The villages were only a couple hours away by sword, so it took no time at all to reach the deserted province.

XiChen took out a map, “Let’s all split up into groups. Lan Bao and I will cover the markets. Lan Ju and Bai An Na will cover the residential area. Gong JingYi and Lan Qing will perimeter the village, and WuXian and WangJi will clear the surrounding forest. Everyone understand? After you finish, head straight to the village center.”

Everyone nodded in in agree and sent off into their teams. Brandishing a Demon Wind Compass, WangJi and WuXian headed off the into the surrounding trees.

The forest was silent except for a few trilling insects and owls. The sound of their feet against the rough ground was like the constant thump of a beating heart.

“Lan Zhan?, “Looking to his side, Wei WuXian had a contemplative look on his face

Lan Wangji hummed in reply.

“We’re friends right?, “Wei WuXian gave a small smile

“Yes, “Lan WangJi replied without hesitation

“Good. That’s good, “WuXian said kicking a stray rock out of his way

The continued walking in silence for a few more minutes.

“I really wanted to be your friend when we were younger, “WuXian said to clear the silence, “I thought that if I could get past that cold exterior of yours, you’d be really fun to play with.”

“We are friends now, “WangJi stated

“Yeah, but we’ve missed so much time together, “WuXian countered, “There’s so much we missed out on! So many places in Yunmeng I wanted to take you to.”

“We can still go, “WangJi said, “After you are healed.”

WuXian let out a small huff, “Ah, Lan Zhan, how smart of you, but I’ll probably be very busy when I go back to the sect.”

“You intend to go back?, “WangJi questioned

“Hmm, of course I do. What other choice do I-”

*SCHREEEEEEECH*

“What was that, “shifting in defensive stances, the two were immediately on edge

*SCHREEEEEEECH* *SCHREEEEEEECH*

Sound blaring out into the night, birds and critters normally sleep at night startled and ran away from the piercing sound. Looking to his companion, WangJi and WuXian nodded at one another and unsheathed their blades.

“I’ll take left, “WuXian said hurriedly while rushing into the trees

The forest returned to its quiet state, but the calm air had long disappeared. The cool wing now felt harsh against his bare skin.

Taking out his compass once more, the needle pointed back towards the village.

“Not working? How’s that possible?, “he mumbled to himself

“Ying, ”a voice called out

“Who’s there, “raising Subian, he glared into the darkness

“Ying, ”it said once more

Throwing up a light talisman, the trees produced elongated shadows, towering around him. The branches were thin and prickly, almost like sharp nails.

“a-Ying~, ”it sang, almost taunting

“Lan Zhan?, “Wei WuXian turned in a circle and called out to his partner, “Lan Zhan, are you there?”

The wind laughed at him, leaves tearing from their branches showered down upon him.

“Who’s there, “ banishing talisman in hand, he gritted his teeth, “Come out right now.”

“Young Master Wei?, “a familiar voice called

“Zewu-jun?, “Wei WuXian said, confusion lining his voice

“Young Master Wei!?, “the voice called again, “Where are you?”

“Zewu-jun?, “Wei WuXian called back, “I’m over here!”

The wind blew harshly once more, branches crackling around him. Another sound shifted from behind him; the bushes rustled violently.

Turning rapidly in defense, Wei WuXian gasped as a black shroud covered his vision.

“!!!”

...

Lan WangJi sat against the wall of the village gate, posture perfect and face looking devoid of any emotion. The only sound he made was the rapid tapping of his fingers against the wall. Not facing his other group mates, his eyes laid perfectly on the surrounding forests of the village, searching.

“I hope Young Master Wei is alright, “Lan Bao said tapping their foot repeatedly against the ground, “it’s only been a couple hours, but what if his back wounds acted up?”

“He has a signal flare on him. If it were truly serious, he would have called for us, “Gong JingYi tried to placate them

“Young Master Gong is right, “Lan Qing agreed, “Besides, the Demon Wind Compass isn’t detecting anything dangerous from the forests.”

Lan Bao sighed and stopped their foot, “That’s why I’m worried. The villagers said the town and surrounding areas had been taken over, but Second Young Master Lan didn’t find anything before he came back.”

The three fell silent once more.

Lan WangJi paused his hand, taking his own compass out of his sleeves. Staring at the unmoving needle, he narrowed his eyes in question.

“Medic!, “the sound of Zewu-jun shouting had everyone’s head turning in alarm

“Xiongzhang?, “Lan WangJi was to his feet quickly, rushing towards his brother’s voice

The others followed, clamoring behind the second jade as he pushed through the tall trees. The came upon a clearing.

Lan Qing gasped, “Zewu-jun! Young Master Wei!”

Lan XiChen was pale faced, one arm slung around Wei WuXian’s waist and the other having slung his right arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t conscious from what they could see, feet dragging on the ground and head lolled forward, but most alarming....

blood was gushing out his neck!

“WuXian’s been injured; we need to leave now!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Notes:

-The original draft of this entire fic was only four chapters long, you can see how that turned out.

-Yes, I know this chapter is almost 5k words, but you wouldn’t believe it was much longer before I re-wrote it, it was at least 8k in the first draft

-I made WWX a little bit terser with JC cause I feel like if No SSC happened and living with Madam Yu and JC’s shit for even longer would have him treating JC like his resurrected self does quicker. Also, no 22yr old man is gonna baby another 22yr old lol.

-However, I also wanted to show that the Jiang’s abuse and conditioning is still in affect/there with his interactions with others. Hope I did a good job of it.

-I feel like a no SSC Lan WangJi might try to get with Wei WuXian, especially since he’s had time to work over his feeling with no war in the way. And then especially if the man he loved was whipped right in front of him.

Read my Prompts and WIPs [Here]

#wei wuxian #wwx #mdzs #the untamed #grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #grand master of demonic cultivation #gdc #lan wangji #lan xichen #lwj #lxc #lan qiren #lqr

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alittlebitgoofy · 3 years

Text

save me (taywhora)

i’ve been through a lot so here’s some angsty taywhora, tw for implications of suidical thoughts, just general depression all around

i hope y’all enjoy, this was cathartic to get out

ao3 link

Sadness was like a drug, intoxicating in a sadistic sort of way. Once you started it was hard to stop, no matter how much things hurt it lingered.

Everyone needed someone to pull them back up for air, stop the spiral before it went too deep. A’whora knew she could get the help if she asked but the idea was horrifying. Some things weren’t to be talked about with other people. Vulnerability took control away, even if she trusted them. It was too much.

What was the chance they would even believe her, it’s not like it was visible. She did a great job of acting like a stable, happy, confident young woman when times like this she just felt like a black hole, sucking up every possible emotion and leaving her devoid of feeling. Sometimes numb was a blessing after too much of everything. All the sounds, every little detail she was far too aware of. It hurt.

Pain was a familiar thing, it felt like clockwork, something would happen and her facade would snap, any joy she felt gone within the blink of an eye, a reminder of the desolate life she led devoid of any real love.

Envy flooded through her, the first real emotion she’d felt all day. Why did some people have it better, they dared to be themselves and never seemed uncomfortable in their skin. One person embodied this, she was so enticing but always reminded A’whora of who she’d never be if this all continued.

Tayce would be home soon, she’d ask what was wrong. She’d need an excuse. She was too stubborn to take no for an answer, it was tiring at times like this.

It wasn’t like she could help.

A’whora was a lost cause, floating through life trying to find meaning in it all.

Tayce deserved more than to be tied down to someone who could barely bring herself to care about being in such a state. Someone who struggled to even move sometimes, not finding the energy for basic tasks.

She deserved someone who could see themselves a year from now anywhere but hopeless and alone.

The door unlocked. A’whora hopelessly pleaded with the world to let her get to grips with some things before being thrust into social interaction.

“Oi, Rory! I got you food!” Tayce strutted through the door, holding a bag of Nandos in one hand and some drinks in the other. Her face morphed from a grin to concern quickly as she saw the state her girlfriend was in, staring blankly ahead, grimacing at the sudden noise.

“You okay?” She approached slowly, A’whora turning away. She didn’t have to deal with someone who could barely hold herself together. This was her problem, not anyone else’s.

“You don’t have to talk but please look at me so I know you're okay.” Worry, it was thick in Tayce’s tone. It made A’whora’s stomach churn, why did she have to care. It would be so much easier if she didn’t.

She turned hesitantly, preying it would make the conversation stop and she’d be left to her own devices for just a bit longer.

Tayce knew. She could tell she wasn’t ready to talk but she couldn’t leave her alone. Not like this. She laid down next to her, stretching her hand over if A’whora wanted to take it. She did it absentmindedly. No one could resist Tayce, not even her lack of feelings and the ever-growing void inside of her.

Tayce moved further, enveloping her torso in a hug before rubbing her shoulder. A’whora let out a slight grunt, not responding further even when prompted.

Trying to talk to her or figure her out wouldn't work, Tayce soon came to understand. But company and devotion could go a long way in a battle like this one, where her beloved girlfriend was only hanging on by a thread.

Tayce was all too loyal, once someone showed themselves to be trustworthy she’d never leave. A’whora loved and hated it. How dare she find something positive in her when all she could see was pain and suffering. It should have been suffocating, but she never pushed that line.

She knew boundaries easily, didn’t push when she shouldn’t. She was perfect, smart, and had little emotional baggage.

She was the opposite of A’whora no matter how much they had in common. She wanted to be alive.

Tayce could feel it, her waning level of energy. This was exhausting, a never ending nightmare of feelings she couldn't hide from until they swallowed her up and left her with nothing. Things were coming back, they usually did with Tayce in the picture but bringing herself to deal with it was too much.

“Hey, I love you,” Tayce whispered, not leaving the attempt of comfort to her distressed girlfriend. That was the final straw, breaking A’whora open without warning as she shuffled to press her head into her chest to muffle her cries.

Crying was awkward, Tayce was never the best with emotions, people were complicated and she was never much of a crier. It hurt, seeing someone she genuinely loved hurt so much and not be able to communicate why, though she was beginning to understand why.

“Why?” Was all she could let out, a hesitant squeak amongst the rush of tears and sobs that shook her.

“Why? Because you’re perfect. You’ve got every redeeming quality a girl could ever want. You’re kind, you care, you can joke around and not take things too seriously and you’re absolutely gorgeous. How could anyone not love you, you’re the most charming person I’ve ever met, you hound.”

A’whora froze, she was never anything but honestly herself with Tayce, though she hid the down days. She was perfection crafted into a human, with no issues in sight. And she thought she was perfect?

The walls were cracking, maybe letting her in wouldn’t be the end. Maybe she could help.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Tayce spoke up out of the blue, gesturing to the bag she’d dropped by the door after coming over to A’whora’s aide. “I got your favourite and extra sides because I thought it would be nice.”

She wanted her to be happy, as much as A’whora detested herself sometimes, she could never bring herself to feel anything negative for Tayce. For her? Perhaps she could challenge her feelings just a bit to let herself appreciate the effort and deal with everything slowly.

She slinked over, carefully pulling herself from the bed and regretting lying there for so long. Bringing the bag back over, Tayce watched and started to prep their bed, gathering pillows and blankets to make it more comfortable. How did she get so lucky?

Tayce proceeded to scoop her up, pulling the food out of the bag and not letting the blonde leave her arms, or her side after some persuasion. She poked her face with a piece of halloumi, amused by the squeal of surprise A’whora let out before she took it with a weak glare, though her lips curling up slightly told a rather different story.

They stayed together, warm and safe. Tayce put a movie on to keep A’whora distracted. She didn’t quite know what was going on but she’d learn when A’whora was ready. She’d support her through everything, no matter what.

A’whora let herself be honest, Tayce was trustworthy, she truly only wanted to help and cheer her up after everything. Maybe she’d be able to talk about it soon, though there was no rush. At the very least she had a supportive girlfriend who’d buy her takeaway at the drop of a hat. That counted for a lot.

#taywhora #rpdr fanfiction #i don't have any more tags but this is hurt/comfort #this is how i cope with my feelings

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princessshikky · 3 years

Text

In case there is another person here who for some reason wanted a TGCF/TUA fusion plotbunny... This is loosely inspired by the TGCF fanfic Nude Dinner by the incredible hoarder_of_stories (btw, I highly recommend to check out their other works: very sweet and comforting, also you can just feel that the author is enjoying their work, it's always cool when the text transfers that feeling).

So. Jun Wu is the eccentric billionaire who buys and adopts seven kids with superpowers and they grow up in a toxic environment.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin are number one and number two respectively. They are constantly arguing with each other and with everyone else around them except for Xie Lian. When Xie Lian left home to live on his own, fengqing left with him, but Mu Qing couldn't handle this life for long and wanted to come back home, which lead to his argument and subsequent breakup with Feng Xin and Xie Lian. Mu Qing also spent years trying to "make amends" for his "mistake" and win back Jun Wu's favor. He's the only one who stayed with Jun Wu until the end.

Feng Xin quickly started an affair with a girl his age (Jian Lang), she got pregnant, Jun Wu found out and tried to pay her to keep the baby, give it to Jun Wu and never see the child again (he wanted to see whether the second generation would inherit the special abilities). Jian Lang wanted nothing to do with it, had an abortion, confronted Feng Xin about the whole story and broke up with him. They never saw each other after that. In the present timeline Feng Xin works as a coach in a local gym, he also participates in fighting matches sometimes.

Yin Yu is number three. He constantly felt underappreciated and ignored, angry that Quan Yizhen was praised more than him. Eventually he got so angry he had a fight with Quan Yizhen and ran away. In the present he works for Hua Cheng (who wanted to be closer to Xie Lian and grabbed the chance to meet Xie Lian's sibling, that didn't go as planned).

Quan Yizhen is number four. He adored Yin Yu, so after Yin Yu left Quan Yizhen also didn't stay home for long. He became a successful and popular athlete with a ton of endorsements. He also doesn't hold any resentments against his siblings.

Shi Qingxuan is number five, he can speak with the souls of the deceased. His ability is pretty useless in combat, so he didn't go to the missions all that often. When Shi Qingxuan was still a teenager his biological older brother, Shi Wudu, started looking for him and demanded the right to see him (Shi Wudu could only do it once he was of legal age, which is why it took so long). Jun Wu refused, so Shi Wudu started a crusade, went to the papers, to the Committee for the Affairs of Minors and to court -- all to get Shi Qingxuan away from the abusive environment. He eventually succeeded. The rest of the siblings desperately envy Shi Qingxuan since they don't have loving biological family willing to go through hell for them. Nevertheless, Shi Qingxuan is such a likable person it's hard to resent him. He is another family members who doesn't hold any grudges against his siblings and loves them all equally (except for Shi Wudu, who is his absolute favorite).

He Xuan is number six (deceased). Shi Qingxuan is the only one able to see him and communicate with him. He Xuan absolutely despises Shi Wudu because of jealousy: he used to be closest to Shi Qingxuan and believes Shi Qingxuan doesn't pay him as much attention now.

Xie Lian is number seven and Jun Wu's favorite, which didn't win him any favors among the other siblings (actually Jun Wu made a conscious attempt to isolate Xie Lian from the rest of the family and make him dependent on Jun Wu's approval precisely because Xie Lian is really his favorite). Xie Lian didn't have super abilities but still wanted to be a superhero and save people like the rest of his siblings, which lead to him constatly arguing with Jun Wu. Eventually he was the first to leave the Academy. He lived with fengqing at first, then they broke up and went their own separate ways. The first year on his own was the most difficult, as Xie Lian couldn't find any job and barely had any food to eat. Officially it was because the whole family was homeschooled and Xie Lian lacked any certificate of education, but actually Jun Wu secretly did everything in his power to ensure no one would hire Xie Lian, hoping Xie Lian would "come to his senses" and come back home. However, Xie Lian was stubborn enough to survive and eventually get a stable job. He still doesn't have higher education because it's expensive and time-consuming, but his living conditions are better in the present.

At the start of the plot Jun Wu suddenly dies and the whole family (including Shi Wudu as Shi Qingxuan's moral support) comes to the funeral. Mu Qing tries to say that something about the death is suspicious (some of Jun Wu's documents are missing), but no one is willing to support him (to be fair, even if Jun Wu died from fifty knife wounds, the siblings would be like "eh, what a tragic accident, nothing suspicious here"). There are no timey-wimey shenanigans, just Mu Qing trying to investigate Jun Wu's death and the rest of the family reluctantly working with him or refusing to cooperate (i.e. Yin Yu doesn't tell where he spent the night of Jun Wu's death or where he works because he hasn't seen his siblings in years, they're practically strangers, and he doesn't want these strangers to come to his workplace or something, esp. since he works for a stalker obsessed with one of the aforementioned siblings). The family communicates, unearthes some old grudges and family secrets (fengqing spend two hours yelling at each other over a broken gameboy personally gifted by Jun Wu).

Xie Lian goes for a walk and accidentally meets a guy named San Lang (it was raining, Xie Lian didn't have an umbrella, so San Lang walked him to his apartment, Xie Lian invited him in and made him tea etc). They start dating. San Lang is very supportive of Xie Lian, spends a lot of time with him, makes him insanely personalised gifts. Fengqing are suspicious and try to convince Xie Lian that this guy is weird and his social network profiles seem fake. They even break into San Lang's appartment but find nothing out of the ordinary (they didn't have time to sneak into the attic and discover the Xie Lian Stalker Shrine).

Xie Lian starts seeing nightmares of a man in white clothes and white mask. He used to have these nightmares often in the past, when he was a child, then Jun Wu administered him some pills and the nightmares stopped. Xie Lian thinks this is his psyche's reaction to Jun Wu's death. When San Lang finds out, he offers to pay for the therapist sessions (Xie Lian refuses) and maybe adjust the dosage of the medicine (Xie Lian agrees to try). Soon Xie Lian runs out of the pills, forgets to get a new bottle, and San Lang convinces him to try to quit. Xie Lian feels better and also starts to suspect that he may have superpowers after all. San Lang and Xie Lian work together to try and develop Xie Lian's abilities. It doesn't really go anywhere until a tragic accident: Xie Lian and San Lang are attacked at the street, San Lang is injured (and looses his eye in the fight), Xie Lian uses his abilities to protect San Lang. San Lang now wears an eyepatch.

Fengqing still keep their investigation, find out that Yin Yu works for "San Lang" and that "San Lang"'s name is actually Hua Cheng. They come to Xie Lian with this information, but Xie Lian refuses to believe them. Fengqing and Xie Lian have a huge argument, remember every one of their old grudges, Xie Lian hotly says that San Lang is way better to him than his family and even helps him develop his abilities. Hua Cheng arrives in the middle of the argument, takes Xie Lian's side and throws fengqing out. In a conversation with Xie Lian he either denies the accusations or gives a rational explanation (i.e. "San Lang is my childhood nickname, I like it better than my name, that's why I never used my actual name with you").

The next day, once Mu Qing had a chance to calm down, he starts thinking: how come Xie Lian has abilities now? He decides Jun Wu must have known something and tries to look at Jun Wu's documents, finds evidence of Jun Wu knowing, but most of the information was in the documents that are missing. The other siblings deny having anything to do with it. Mu Qing turns to Ling Wen -- the AI developed by Jun Wu. Mu Qing, Ling Wen and Feng Xin manage to break into Jun Wu's computer, decode his files and access the security camera records.

Turns out, Jun Wu also had superpowers: he could get into other people's dreams and control their minds. He was the one who sent Xie Lian nightmares and made everyone forget Xie Lian had powers. He also documented everything and placed hidden cameras all over the house. Fengqing watch the records of the day Jun Wu died (there is only image but no sound) and see Hua Cheng break into Jun Wu's study room, find and read some of the documents. Jun Wu enters the room, it looks like he and Hua Cheng have an argument, Hua Cheng storms out taking the documents with him. After he leaves, Jun Wu clutches his chest and falls on the floor.

Fengqing go to speak to Xie Lian again, this time with the records. Xie Lian is shocked, but he believes them now. Together they search Hua Cheng's house, find Jun Wu's documents, which hold detailed descriptions of Xie Lian's abilities and how to access them. They also find the stalker shrine with paintings of Xie Lian, pictures of Xie Lian obviously taken without his knowledge, a couple of statues and some pornographic images of Xie Lian. Fengqing demand Xie Lian dumps "this creep" right this second, but Xie Lian still insists there must be a proper explanation. He even tries to call Hua Cheng. Eventually they reach a compromise: they need to go to Yin Yu and speak to him, since he works for Hua Cheng and must know something.

Yin Yu tells them the following: a long time ago, when Xie Lian was trying to be a superhero, he saved a young Hua Cheng. Ever since that time Hua Cheng became obsessed with Xie Lian, started gathering all available information about the Umbrella Academy, but there was nothing about Xie Lian there. After Shi Wudu's campain against Jun Wu the Academy's dirty laundry got into papers, Hua Cheng figured Xie Lian had been abused and it was Hua Cheng's turn to save him. However, by the time Hua Cheng finally had all the money and resources Xie Lian had long left the house and built himself a new life. Hua Cheng found him and started stalking him, taking pictures etc. He didn't try to meet Xie Lian in person because he was ashamed: he failed and didn't help Xie Lian when Xie Lian needed it most. Hua Cheng still employed Yin Yu and regularly questioned him about Xie Lian because he wanted to know every little detail. One of their conversations made him think of something he didn't share and start a secret project Yin Yu wasn't involved in. That's all he knows.

Fengqing are furious with Yin Yu for doing something like that to his sibling. Yin Yu yells at them, saying that even though Mu Qing, Feng Xin and Xie Lian had each other when they left they couldn't hold out long, and Yin Yu was completely on his own and Hua Cheng saved him. Fengqing don't know Hua Cheng, he's actually a good person, they shouldn't judge him by his hobbies. Xie Lian interferes saying they need to talk to Hua Cheng anyway, to question him about the circumstances of Jun Wu's death. Xie Lian calls Hua Cheng and invites him to the Academy mansion, fengqing gather the rest of their siblings. Together they interrogate Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng doesn't deny the stalking but he denies being responsible for Jun Wu's death. According to him, his conversation with Yin Yu helped him guess Jun Wu was super shady, Hua Cheng managed to hack his computer, couldn't decypher the files but accessed the camera records and saw where Jun Wu kept his documents. He broke into Jun Wu's room, read his diaries, found out about Xie Lian's abilities and confronted Jun Wu about it, promising to disclose that information to Xie Lian. Hua Cheng "accidentally" ran into Xie Lian at the street, stole his medicine, hired some thugs to beat him in front of Xie Lian -- all to help Xie Lian unlock his powers.

Fengqing still believe Hua Cheng must be somehow responsible for Jun Wu's death. Yin Yu stands up for Hua Cheng and suggests Shi Qingxuan uses his ability to talk to Jun Wu's ghost and find out for certain. Shi Wudu is against that: he doesn't want Shi Qingxuan to talk to his abusive father, and it's hard for Shi Qingxuan to use his powers. However, Shi Qingxuan is willing to give it a try, mostly for Xie Lian's sake. He cannot summon Jun Wu's ghost, but he talks to the ghosts of Jun Wu's former friends, whom Jun Wu murdered and buried in the mansion's garden. The ghosts have haunted the mansion for a long time and have seen the confrontation with their own eyes. They confirm Hua Cheng's version of events.

Fengqing are still against Hua Cheng and don't want him anywhere near Xie Lian, but Xie Lian says he's not a child anymore, he won't let anyone else make decisions for him, and if fengqing want to stay in his life, they need to accept that. He's fine with having Hua Cheng as a partner, and his opinion is the only one that matters in this regard.

Hualian leave. A few days later Feng Xin comes to talk to Mu Qing: he believes Jun Wu died because he couldn't stand the thought of losing Xie Lian's love forever. Mu Qing has a different theory: Jun Wu deliberately stopped his own heart and killed himself, because he wanted Xie Lian to feel guilty for his death and to come back to the Academy because of that. Xie Lian personally thinks it doesn't matter: he has stopped looking for Jun Wu's approval a long time ago. Whatever Jun Wu's motives, he will not be able to ruin Xie Lian's life.

...

Cue the second season where the whole gang timetravels to 800 years ago, Xie Lian becomes an evil overlord with Hua Cheng being his right hand, Ling Wen tries to get a human body, Lang Qianqiu can copy other people's superabilities and Jun Wu turns out to be a literal alien.

Miscellaneous:

Mu Qing and Feng Xin are based on Luther and Diego, so their superpowers are superstrength and the ability to control projectiles respectively. Yin Yu can turn invisible, Quan Yizhen has superspeed, Shi Qingxuan speaks to the dead, He Xuan could summon tentacles, and Xie Lian is based on Vanya so he controls sound waves.

As a child, Xie Lian was closest to fengqing, Quan Yizhen adored Yin Yu (he still does), Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan were inseparable. In the present Shi Qingxuan is the only one in touch with all of the other siblings. Quan Yizhen is close to Xie Lian and constantly tries to give him money (he is also looking for Yin Yu). No one else is on speaking terms.

BTW, Xie Lian is trans, because a) why not, b) it was inspired by a fic with trans!Xie Lian and c) Xie Lian's plotline is based on Vanya's and Vanya is trans, fight me on this.

#tian guan ci fu #tgcf #the umbrella academy #tua #hualian #hualian's relationship is in no way healthy in this fic #they'll come to that point eventually #fusion/crossover

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mileycyprus-hill · 4 years

Text

Previous chapters found in my masterlist.

Warnings: Lots of angst. Anxiety/panic attack trigger warning marked with ** and ends with ...

A huge loving thanks to my proof-readers who helped me finish this heart-breaking chapter.

Chapter 7, end of Part 1.

“And you’re sure this is what you want to do?” Thomas Birner asks, his tone clear.

He sits across from you in their modest dining area in the upstairs apartment. Wood paneling in a deep cherry color surrounds you in the small room, giving you a sense of cozy security. An emerald green rug sits underneath the dining room set, extending beyond the neatly organized wooden chairs that match the walls.

Your eyes dart down and peer at the exquisite detail of the rug underneath the toes of your black leather boots.

“Yes,” you answer softly. “I’m sure of it...It’s what’s best.” You return your gaze to Thomas’ large, chestnut eyes. It’s like staring into the eyes of a living doll: lids blinking automatically with long, dark lashes and white light reflecting off their glassy surface.

Hands together and fingers interlaced upon the polished table, you remain seated in your chair across from him. Christine sits to your right at the end of the square dining table, remaining silent with a solemn look. She looks so clean and polished with her light, sandy hair neatly held into a simple bun with a silver brooch. Her pale blouse with its intricate lace and her long, dark skirt are freshly pressed with clean lines and minimal wrinkles.

Thomas asks again, “And the father, Arthur? He’s sure of this too?” His voice carries the same comforting empathy he gave you the first time you met him, all those months ago. It’s been a year now since you’ve first stepped into that office. A year of burden and upset; months of child-bearing followed by the subsequent birth and development of your son who is still unaware of his place in the growing world.

“Yes,” you reply bluntly. Your interlaced fingers tighten and your knuckles turn white.

You begin to explain, “Y’see, Arthur’s back home, packing our things. We’ve...decided to move. That’s why he couldn’t come.”

Thomas and Christine remain silent while you speak.

“We’re sort of in a hurry. Got quite the caravan traveling with us and time is of the essence.” You recite as if you’ve practiced these words on your way to town over and over again, forcing yourself to believe them.

“We understand.” Thomas replies.

Christine’s voice finally enters the conversation with a gentle air, like the breath of a fresh spring morning.

“Thank you for coming to us,” she says, “It truly means a lot.”

With a tender touch, she reaches to you and places her hand upon yours. She gently taps your hands a few times with the faintest of touches. Her manicured nails are shiny and polished in contrast to your brittle, stained nails.

You tighten your lips into a polite smile that quickly fades. The two of them almost simultaneously follow your movements as you stand and step towards the entryway near the stairs.

They step behind you in line as you walk to the top step before turning back to them. Your jaw feels tight and your face droops wearily.

There they stand before you, the image of a perfect couple. Beautiful, loving, kind, financially stable. They both look at you with sympathy in their eyes. A rectangular window sits high on the wall behind them down the end of the hallway. The rays of sunlight shine through the glass and break upon the crowns of their heads. You see the light cascade their heads like heavenly halos.

Oh, how you envy them. You swallow the jealousy that threatens to choke your throat like burning bile erupting from your stomach.

“We’ll...see you soon?” Christine asks.

“Of course,” you rasp. With fluttering blinks of your eyelids, you turn to descend the stairs. Each step of your boots creates a hollow echo against the wood.

Time begins to slow as you reach the end of the stairs and cross the doorway of their office.

The air clears once you step outside into the open, dusty street. You breathe a ragged sigh and mount your horse. The red dust speckles his ebony legs as he stands alone on the dirt road, hitched to a wooden post.

Your body sits in the saddle and moves fluidly in time with König’s gentle canter out of town. The two of you ride as one being; synced and sensitive to each other’s moods. He breathes with a tense huff that mirrors yours, feeling the stress that tightens the muscles in your legs and arms. It stays with you like an awful venom from a snakebite, coursing its way through you both as you ride back to camp.

You see the familiar tent post belonging to the tall shelter of Dutch. Its towering pitch stands out amongst the surrounding tents and juniper trees. The white canvas is kept taught and the fabric ripples minutely in the peaceful wind.

Dutch is leaning against the post with a thick cigar in his fingers, bringing it to his lips. He blinks at the sound of hoof beats and turns his head to watch you enter camp. A small puff of smoke escapes his lips and billows in front of his face before fading into the breeze.

He knows where you have gone and scans your face that hides beneath your wide-brimmed hat. He looks for any sign of emotion that could tell him what you’ve done.

Keeping your head held down, you walk past his tent.

His deep baritone doesn’t make you falter this time when he asks you.

“So, have you finally made a—”

“Yes, Dutch. I have.” You interrupt bitterly without hesitation, still walking to your tent where Isaiah remains sleeping. The flaps of your tent are now drawn back like curtains, tied in place and welcoming you inside.

Arthur sits upright on your cot and watches over Isaiah. With one hand, he places his hat upon his head and stares into the makeshift bassinet. It’s as if he’s hypnotized by this small child of his. Arthur slowly places other hand on the edge of the bassinet, gently rocking it.

“How is he?” You ask softly to avoid awaking Isaiah.

Arthur turns to you in a mild startle. He hadn’t heard your approaching footsteps, only the light breathing from his sleeping son. He looks up at you, eyeing your face and noticing your pensive sadness.

“He’s fine,” Arthur answers with a stillness, “Still hasn’t woke up...Where’d you run off to so early?”

“To town,” you state, pushing your thumbs beneath the wide belt that holds your skirt in place. “I had an errand to run.” Avoiding eye contact, you instead look over the features of Arthur’s face: his structured nose, plump lips, his marked chin, and sharp jaw. Short stubbles cover his lower face, like a dark shadow.

Arthur stares at you in silence, as if trying to understand. He’s sure he does, but there remains a glimmer of hopeful doubt that what he hears behind your words is not true.

“So...you heard the news, then?” He asks, “That we’re leavin’?”

“Yeah, I heard.” You reply coolly, maintaining your composure.

Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a whimpering cry from the bassinet. Isaiah wakes hungrily with his cry growing louder, bringing his balled fists up to his chubby cheeks that quickly turn red.

Taking your cue, you step forward past Arthur and gingerly scoop Isaiah from his little bed.

Arthur watches you silently, desperately wanting to say more but, his courage to speak is now lost. He can only watch you and Isaiah, holding onto each other as the baby nurses. Every day, Arthur watches you and feels racked with guilt.

Picking your head up, you finally look into Arthur’s eyes. The pair of you hold so much misery and pain in your eyes. So much so that perhaps the faintest touch could cause you both to collapse into an external sorrow.

The uncomfortable silence is broken by your voice.

“Would you mind helping me with something, Arthur?” You ask.

Maintaining eye contact, he answers, “Anythin’.”

He answers with such eagerness; willing to do your bidding if it meant he could be near you and have your attention.

“I need to go back to town...With—”

“Arthur! (Y/N)!” Dutch’s booming voice interrupts, startling the three of you inside your tent.

Your heart beats heavily while Isaiah startles in your arms but promptly returns to feeding. You turn to hide your exposed breast from Dutch as he steps closer to the tent.

Dutch abruptly stops once realizing, the dirt sliding underneath his feet.

“Oh! My apologies.” Dutch says, averting his eyes from you and looking down to Arthur who remains seated on your cot. “Arthur, I need to speak with you.”

Arthur’s heart also hammers wildly in his chest, feeling a different emotion. He hides his annoyance under his hat while his steely eyes look up from beneath the low brim. He remains seated on his spot.

“What is it?” Arthur asks, keeping his voice low.

Dutch speaks urgently, “I need you to ride out with me. I know of a new place we can go to...A new home. And I need you with me to check it out...Make sure there’s no trouble with the ‘previous tenants’.”

Arthur looks up at Dutch with an angry look, but pulls back the tone of his voice.

“Why me? Take John with ya instead.” He talks back.

Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dutch’s reaction towards Arthur’s attitude. His thick eyebrows rise in surprise and quickly furrow in a soft anger.

He speaks lowly, “He is coming, as a matter of fact. I need you both. Now c’mon.”

Dutch turns to leave before Arthur interjects.

“But I already promised to help (Y/N) with somethin—”

A cold stare interrupts him, followed by Dutch’s unyielding tone of voice.

“(Y/N) will be fine,” he cuts quickly, “There’s other people here to help her and Isaiah. Now I need you, son. So hurry up!”

His voice rises and cracks at his final utterance. With a wave of his hand, he leaves to saddle his horse at the edge of camp.

Arthur breathes a heavy sigh, looking up at you sympathetically before reluctantly rising off the cot.

“I’m sorry.” he says to you, giving you a quick glance over his shoulder as he steps out.

You remain standing, holding Isaiah in your arms and feeling a swirl of emotions rise in your chest. Anger. Fear. Resentment. They bubble and boil in your chest, constricting your heart and filling your lungs.

You watch Arthur pack his things into his leather bag: his journal, a couple cans of food, and his canteen. He grabs his bedroll and steps to attach it to the back of his saddle.

Now awake with a full belly, Isaiah kicks his hanging feet as you hold him upright against your side. He’s able to support his own head now and his eyesight has improved these past few months. As you walk closer to Arthur’s open tent, Isaiah watches him walk to his horse. He appears intrigued by Arthur’s movements and the sound of his clinking items.

Arthur tightens the girth on his horse’s saddle when he hears a squealing babble from Isaiah behind him. He turns to look at you both, standing there before him. His heart swells as he watches Isaiah smile and squeal at him.

Isaiah reaches out to Arthur with his chubby hand and points with a short finger, while the other hand is gripped on your shoulder. A gentle breeze wisps the short, feathery hairs on his little head.

With his long strides, Arthur walks to you. His eyes dart back and forth between your eyes and Isaiah’s. Yours appear glassy while Isaiah’s remain wide with a blissful innocence. Arthur reaches a rough, calloused hand up to Isaiah’s head, softly brushing against his silky hair before resting a thumb upon his supple cheek.

Your eyes never leave Arthur’s face, watching him smile and whisper to Isaiah.

“I’ll see you soon,” he tells you both, his eyes fixed on his son.

Your voice cracks when you finally speak, “Arthur, I...”

His gaze slowly rises to you, watching you struggle. The words are caught in your throat as you look into those blue eyes. You hope he understands what you’re trying to say.

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll be back soon.” he says, turning away to mount his horse. He reluctantly steps into the stirrup and effortlessly hoists himself with his back to you. With a turn of his head, he looks over his shoulder and tips his hat to you before spurring his horse to follow Dutch.

You stand there, watching him fall behind John and Dutch as they ride out. Soon, their figures shrink in the distance and disappear into the red hills. All that’s left of them is the subtle trail of dust lingering behind them.

A pair of light footsteps approach you and a calm, nasally voice speaks from behind.

“I take it Arthur won’t be going with you.”

You turn to see Hosea standing straight with his arms behind his back. His eyes crinkle and his lips turn into a small smile at Isaiah’s babbling response. The smile falters at the sight of your glassy eyes and silent demeanor. He breathes a deep and troubled sigh. A silent moment passes as he recalls your troubled thoughts you spoke to him early this morning. He’s grateful for your trust in him. It’s a gift very few people give him.

“You sure you want to do this?” He asks you calmly.

You remain silent and can only nod in response, keeping your steeled composure. You hand your infant son to Hosea and move to your tent that is pitched just a few strides away. Hosea’s soft hands hold Isaiah in a firm yet gentle grip.

You enter your tent to open the drawer of your nightstand and retrieve a long, dark sling. It’s navy blue and made of a soft woolen fabric, at least three feet long and a foot wide. It cascades down your arm and its hem barely brushes against the ground.

Standing outside, Hosea stares into Isaiah’s eyes. They’re so much like Arthur’s; bright blue orbs that turn green in the sunlight. A sparkle of amber shines near his pupils, like a lonely flame buoyed out in the lonely sea.

Turning back to him with the long cloth in hand, you let the moment pass in silence, allowing Hosea to hold him in his arms one final time. He looks so comfortable, being a grandfather. The tiny crow’s feet emerging at the corner of his eyes wrinkle tightly as he gazes into Isaiah’s radiant eyes. Tiny fingers grasp at Hosea’s chin and rub against his freshly shaved skin, and Hosea reacts with a broken chuckle. He kisses the little palm at his lips tenderly, breathing in Isaiah’s soft touch.

Hosea senses your eyes on him and looks to you. The subtle joy on his face is replaced with a stoic look. He finally hands your infant son to you and helps you wrap him onto your back.

The long sling crosses your chest in an ‘x’ and wraps around your waist, holding Isaiah close against your back in a tight cocoon. He rests his cheek against your back while his bare legs hang freely on the sides.

With a light hand against your lower back, Hosea helps you step into the stirrup of your saddle and bring yourself up onto your horse. His hands firmly hold you from behind and guide you up safely as you set yourself upon your tall steed.

The two of you ride off into the same red hills, towards that familiar home where Isaiah was born.

...

The front door remains closed and locked, with only the opportunity to glance through the painted letters on the large window pane. Behind the closed door stand the four of you, secluded in the small waiting area with the only source of light coming from the high sun shining through the bay windows. The rays of light burst through in sharp angles, separated from each other by the crossed muntins that support each pane of glass. Speckles of dust float freely in the bright glare.

“Write to us, will you?” Christine asks, “We’ll always keep in touch...”

Her voice cracks slightly. Whether by joy or sympathy, you don’t know. Thomas stands by her side in silence, his hands deep in his pockets. The chain of his pocket watch clinks softly as he fumbles his fingers within the layer of fabric.

Christine’s eyes begin to water, “...let you know how he’s doing.”

You smile lightly at her generosity, honored to still be a small part of his life.

“Yes. I’d like that,” You croak, “very much.”

Isaiah remains sleeping in Christine’s arms. The gentle ride to town coupled with your warmth quickly put him to sleep. He lays bundled in the navy-colored sling, held close to Christine’s body. His head rests in the crook of her elbow and his cheeks are flushed from the heat of the sun.

Your heart races wildly as you lean in to kiss Isaiah on his supple cheek. Perhaps the final kiss you’ll ever give him. Your teeth bite your lower lip as punishment of the thought. The absence of his weight in your arms, in your lap...it’s almost unbearable. The emptiness weighs heavier on you than the weight you carried those nine months. Heavier than Isaiah’s growing body that you would rest on your hip.

He stirs gently at your kiss and begins to whimper.

“Goodbye, my son.” You whisper, and look to Thomas and Christine. They look to you with unspoken sympathies while you turn away.

Hosea stands by the door, hat in his hands. His lips are pursed tightly and his bloodshot eyes look ahead to the street as he opens the door, allowing you to step out first. It’s as if the small town has been abandoned just for this moment. The street is empty and quiet without a soul around. Your horses’ heads stay low, mirroring your moods. Their reins lay unhitched over their withers, evidence of a swift meeting that requires no securement to a post.

Behind you, Isaiah wakes and sputters out a cry. Unyielding to his call, you mount your horse and keep your gaze on Hosea who does the same. Looking to him and only him is the only thing keeping you anchored and unchanged.

Hosea gives you a gentle nod and leads the way with a subtle kick of his heels. Your vision blurs from the tears that fill your eyes. Isaiah’s cries grow louder and more frantic as he watches you ride away, but you force yourself not to turn.

You don’t watch him reach out to you. You don’t see him struggle in Christine’s arms. You don’t look back to him desperately flexing his little fingers as he tries to grasp at you, unable to comprehend the fact he cannot reach you despite you being in his field of view. He fails to comprehend the distance between you two. You’re just there, right there in front of him, but you will not turn back to him. He cannot know why you are leaving him. He cannot understand.

He struggles to enunciate your name as he calls to you—uttering his first word.

“Mmmah! Mmmah! Maaamaaah!”

The stamping of hooves below you drown out Isaiah’s cries while you ride further on. Soon you are out of range, but you still hear his cries echoing in your ears. The sun sits high in the sky, miles above the horizon in front of you, and nearly blinds you with its light. After some time riding, you’re near the familiar topography that marks the camp. Anxiety rises in your chest at the thought of returning with empty arms.

Can you continue on without him? Can you go on, not knowing where you’ll be next? How long can you mindlessly follow the patriarch of your gang wherever he decides to go?

Can you bear to look at Arthur again? Will the regret of your mistakes ever subside if you remain near?

Hosea notices your horse stopping behind him, as if your steed König could sense your hesitancy. With a gentle pull of his reins, Hosea turns his own horse towards you.

He doesn’t speak or ask questions; only waiting patiently and silently for you.

“I need to be alone for a while,” you tell him, choking back sobs and staring down at König’s thick, black mane.

Hosea nods his head softly in understanding. He turns his head to watch the members of the gang pack up what’s left of the camp. They continue on as if unaware of your return. His amber eyes drop down before he defeatedly turns back to you.

“Take all the time you need. We’ll pack up the rest.” He consoles.

With a squeeze of your legs, you lead König away until Hosea’s voice stops you. He speaks tenderly and with hesitation. As if to prevent the sound of his voice from cracking you further into shattered pieces.

“(Y/N)?” He asks.

You silently look over your shoulder at him, seeing the hurt in his eyes that mirror yours.

“I’ve always thought of you as my daughter and...I’ll always be proud of you. No matter what.” He assures you. With a nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile, he permits you to go.

A hot tear slips from the corner of your eye and paints your cheek in a single streak, dripping down from your quivering chin. You blink your eyes slowly in a loving response, followed by a curt nod.

The absence of words creates such a deafening silence between you two; only communicating further through your eyes, your brows, your downturned lips, and the slow, shallow breaths that rise and fall from your chests.

With a turn of your steed, you nudge forward with Hosea and the camp behind you and the afternoon sun before you.

König’s large strides lead you to a cliff’s edge overlooking the bay. It’s completely silent. The only sounds come from the gentle waves splashing against the rocks down below.

You slide off König and walk to the edge. Your breaths are shallow and quick. The crisp sea air cuts your throat like jagged glass. The air expelled from your lungs slices through your teeth and you struggle to inhale. A vice grips at your heart, squeezing tighter and tighter as you struggle to draw in air.

Dropping to your knees, you claw at the ground, wheezing in a panic. It’s as if gravity has lost its protective hold on you and you’re lifting to the sky in a dreadful fright. The red dirt cakes under your fingernails and chips its fragile edges. You lean forward and drop your head to the warm dirt. Your forehead rests on both your hands, now clenched into fists. The arch of your back rises and falls unsteadily. You cannot hold back the agonizing grief that is torturing you from within.

Drawing your head closer to your body, you feel the open space around you closing in. Like a heavy, suffocating blanket wrapping around your tense body. The fibers of your clothes scratch against your skin like the prickles of a cactus and warms you in a feverish heat.

The air reserved in your lungs is released into a harrowing scream. The tension rises in your skull as you let out the mournful wail until it can no longer be choked out of you.

A gasping inhale is drawn in and another wail escapes you, as if you’ve been impaled and the pain is unbearable. Head drawn to the sky, you look to the heavens and scream.

Perhaps to ask why.

Why was this commanded of you? ...

The space that marked camp is nearly bare. All that remains are the wagons, filled with essentials and minor valuables. Two covered wagons and a heavy carriage rest in an orderly line, each with a pair of oxen and horses waiting in their yokes. A few pallet boxes and a short table are left out in the dirt with no room for them to fit.

Everyone waits for the return of Dutch and the boys. They sit patiently and chat amongst themselves in subtle tones, like a quiet congregation awaiting the priest. Their voices are laced with grief and sadness, no different than those in mourning. Each wagon is adorned with a single oil lamp, hanging off the edge or resting on an open space in the back. With the glass-covered flame inside them, the white canvas of the covered wagons glow dimly like large lamps as darkness begins to fall.

Hosea sits on one of the boxes near the area that marks Arthur’s space. Facing the growing darkness with the light behind him, he rests his elbows on his knees, fiddling with a folded letter in his hands. He’s careful not to smudge the ink that was fresh just an hour ago. His fingers run against the pressed crease of the fold. He hasn’t opened it, and refuses to look inside.

What’s the point in reading if he can already guess the words you have written? The pain and grief transfers from your soul to his through the dry ink on the paper. It permeates the parchment like a distant warmth from a fire on bare skin. He reads your words like a fortune teller reading a face-down card. He knows you well enough to predict what you’ve said. It was written on your face when you came back.

Waiting in silence, Hosea thinks of what he should’ve done better. He should’ve stood by your side—not played neutral between you, Arthur and Dutch. He should’ve urged Arthur more towards your side. He should’ve made you turn around and walk right back in that office. Should’ve stopped you from going in the first place. Should’ve stood his ground with Dutch. Should’ve let Arthur go with you. Should’ve made you stay.

Should’ve stopped you from packing your things and saying goodbye when you returned from your private moment. Should’ve torn up the letter in front of your face, prompting you to reconsider.

What would Bessie think of me? He wonders. Oh, Bessie. I wish you were here.

The soft clanking of horseshoes against dry, rocky soil sound from behind the wagons. Hosea remains seated, slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder. He watches Dutch trot from the dark into camp with a pleased smile, with John and Arthur right behind him. It may be dark, but it appears the boys are not as pleased as him.

Another one of Dutch’s disappointing lectures, I assume.

Pearson slides off the back of a wagon, his feet planting heavily on the ground before approaching the trio.

“Well, find anything?” He asks with optimistic hope, adjusting the waistband across his rotund belly.

“Yes, Mr. Pearson. We have indeed.” Dutch responds in his usual confidence. He drops his reins and dismounts with a loud, tired sigh of relief.

“There’s a settlement up near the Colorado border,” he continues, “Started during the gold rush and now it’s nothing but cattle ranchers looking for farm hands. Figured we’d make some easy money and get to know them a little bit.”

Like a snake oil salesman hitting it lucky with a town full of old biddies, Dutch sneers in delight at the thought of new suckers to swindle.

While Dutch talks of new opportunities and rich pursuits, Arthur scans the empty camp for any sign of you and Isaiah. He was half-tempted to leave Dutch and John behind and ride as quick as he can back to camp. Goosebumps rose high on his skin the entire ride back and they remain while he looks for you. He felt nervous during the ride back. A worry crept in the back of his mind all day and he just has to silence it. But once his eyes land on Hosea, it refuses to subside.

Hosea turns in his seat, the folded letter in his hands. The stoic features are erased and replaced with weary eyes and a wrinkled frown that’s carved deep.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Arthur questions him.

Hosea merely stands, straightening his back as he faces Arthur. Despite his tall stance, Hosea stands as if balancing a heavy weight on his shoulders. His shoulders are slouched and his chin is drawn low while his eyes stare ahead at Arthur.

Without a word, he answers Arthur’s question by holding out the letter. His eyes remain fixed on Arthur’s features, watching his changed expression.

Arthur’s lips part at the sight of the ivory paper, folded in half in Hosea’s outstretched hand.

With a subtle shake of his head, Arthur asks desperately in a quiet voice, “Isaiah?”

Again, Hosea remains silent with his lips pursed tightly in a thin line. His throat clicks with a dry, thick, and painful swallow.

He stretches his arm further, offering the letter to Arthur.

Arthur reluctantly accepts it, separating the fold with a single finger and opening the letter. He holds it up towards the light of the lanterns behind him to read.

Arthur,

After much consideration, I’ve made a decision.

I’m sure you’re already aware. Isaiah will live his life with the Birners, where he will be educated, respected, and loved.

I know it’s what you wanted and I realize now it’s what’s best.

I am deeply sorry you couldn’t come with me to say goodbye.

I am also sorry that I cannot continue on with you.

I must leave. I know I can’t stay here for long, or move with the gang. I fear the memories and the pain will be too much for me to bear. If I’m to give up Isaiah, then I must give up everything he was a part of. And I must go on my own.

I have always loved you, Arthur. Please know that. I don’t regret the time we spent together and I hope you don’t either.

Promise me you will follow your own path and won’t let anyone change you.

Don’t look for me. Don’t try to bring me back. This is for the best.

I want you to forget about me, Arthur. It’d be easier that way.

Sincerely,

(Y/N)

Your words leave a black mark on his heart. He stands there, conflicted on whether to crumple the letter in his hands or fold it back neatly. A stillness lingers for a moment as he rereads your words over and over. His eyes dart across the sentences, hoping to only misread what you’ve wrote as he analyzes every curl and strike of black ink.

A final judgement is made as he tosses the letter to the ground. His vision blurs and the blood rushes in his veins like hot mercury. A thundering rush fills his ears with a sound similar to that of heavy feathered wings.

Arthur turns and lunges forward. His legs sprint ahead of him in long strides towards his mare. There’s no time to waste, he thinks.

She jolts in response and gives an abrupt squeal as Arthur grabs her reins and leaps onto the saddle. She struggles to calm while his weight lands on her back and she feels a quick pull in her mouth from the metal bit. Her head turns inward towards the source of a heel digging into her side.

Hosea’s voice finally cuts through the air.

“It’s too late, Arthur! She’s gone!”

Arthur’s horse blows a frustrated huff through her flared nostrils and stamps her hooves nervously against the dirt as she fights against his confusing cues.

From his high perch on the saddle, Arthur turns to Hosea. He can barely see him through his warped vision. Spit flies from his bared teeth and hot tears threaten to drip from his eyes as Arthur yells.

“I should’ve known! I should’ve been there for them!” Arthur roars.

His mare rears on her hind legs underneath him, nearly sliding him off the saddle. He jumps from her back and throws down the leather reins in an uncontrollable rage.

His deep voice echoes through the darkness, while the members of the gang merely watch in shock. Hosea bravely steps forward to him, holding out his empty palms to calm the angry beast. He presses his hands against Arthur’s shoulders, attempting to still him.

“It’s my fault!” Arthur continues, his voice hoarse and wheezy as he tries to hold back tears. He smacks Hosea’s hands away.

“It ain’t your fault, Arthur!” Hosea tries to think of something to say. Something to do to cool Arthur’s temper, but he fears nothing will subside him from this relentless rage. He knows it’s futile to control him. This type of grief is too familiar to Hosea. While he reacted differently to his own loss, he understands Arthur’s response.

“Yes, it is! It’s all my fault! They’re gone ‘cause of me!” Arthur howls. He pushes Hosea forcefully with both arms, the palms of his hands smacking against Hosea’s vest. Hosea nearly stumbles backwards but regains his footing.

This is the only way Arthur knows to react, and Hosea knows this. He knows Arthur’s anger isn’t directed towards him, but he needs the physical outlet. Hosea doesn’t attempt to stifle Arthur’s anger and fear. He knows if he takes another step forward, he could be met with a reaction that’s much more violent.

Arthur grabs a nearby pallet box and brings it above his head. He smashes it against the ground before dropping to his knees. The flesh of his knuckles quickly grow mangled and bloody as he punches the planks of wood. The old wood splinters with every strike, cutting and scraping his hands. Arthur feels nothing.

Grabbing the torn pieces of wood, he hurls them against the wagons, startling the horses. Pearson and Grimshaw flinch and draw themselves away. The splintered wood bounces off the sides of the wagons, nearly missing the fabric that could tear on the covered wagons.

A third voice joins in with its booming resonance.

“Arthur, that’s eno—” Dutch attempts to intervene.

“You stay outta this, Dutch! You’ve done enough!” Hosea interrupts. His high-pitched voice cracks as he points an enraged finger at him. Dutch freezes and his eyes grow wide in silent shock.

The pair stare at each other until they notice Arthur stomping away. They watch as he steps out from the light of camp and into the night, wanting to be left alone.

They wait for his return. However long it takes, they wait patiently. They sit and wait, eyes fixed in the direction he walked. They watch and listen for signs of his return: a snapped twig, a wet sniffle, or even a silent return towards the light of camp.

For hours, they wait until he comes back. His eyes bloodshot and puffy and his pants dirty, he steps back into the light. His strides are slow and reluctant. His head is held low. Everyone watches him walk towards the wagon at the end of the line. They eye him as if seeing a ghost cross their path.

He disappears behind the wagon, stepping up and setting himself down on an open spot in the back. He doesn’t acknowledge his brother who also hides in the back and is wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

John startles at his approach and remains silent.

“I was here first,” he wants to say, waiting for Arthur to tell him to leave. However, John’s presence is ignored as Arthur sits in the cramped wagon, so John swallows his unspoken words.

They sit side-by-side in mutual respect for one another, in silence as the wagon gently urges forward.

Before long, their limbs become weak and exhausted. Their heads ache and their eyelids struggle to stay open. The grief tires them and they soon fall asleep, one following the other.

John watches from the corner of his eyes. He watches Arthur’s head sway back and forth until he finally leans against the side of the wagon, succumbing to sleep.

John waits a moment longer, fighting the exhaustion until following suit. He leans in Arthur’s direction, resting his head against Arthur’s arm and curling his legs behind him.

It’s the only comfort he has left now.

#mistakes #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #fan fiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #angst #part 2 is next #heartbreak #reader insert #may be triggering

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oswildin · 4 years

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Mowgli {Dhawan!Doctor x Reader}

~ I couldn’t resist. I just can’t get enough Dhawan!Doctor ya’ll send help. I will probably do a part 2. ~

Summary: You work in a book shop, dreaming about the adventure of a lifetime... Then you meet a man.

PART 2 - https://oswildin.tumblr.com/post/621388859740209152/a-story-of-stars-dhawandoctor-x-reader-part-2

You sighed to yourself as you stood behind the counter at work. There was the faint sound of music playing over the radio, along with the ticking of the grandfather clock that was almost mocking you. It hadn’t even been 2 hours into your shift and you were bored stiff.

Although you were surrounded by books, full of adventures, you couldn’t help but crave your own. You couldn’t help but feel that human life was so mundane and quite frankly boring. The most excitement you got was waiting for your favourite show to start, or deciding to order pizza for dinner.

You weren’t really a party animal, or one for weekly social gatherings. You much preferred spending a night in watching telly, eating chips and reading a book. You couldn’t help but envy those who had the motivation to socialise.

Your manager had gone for the week, leaving you in charge. The little book shop you worked in was just a stepping stone. At least that’s what you told yourself to make yourself feel better. You wanted to believe you were destined for more. Not that there was anything wrong with working a stable income job in retail. It just wasn’t for you.

It often remained quiet most days, with a regular often coming in every now and again to purchase a new book. You decided to grab the book you were currently reading, The Jungle Book. It was slightly childish you admitted, but in every children’s story held a message. You leant on the counter as you began to read.

About 20 minutes later the bell above the door dinged as you peered up, pulling your gaze from the pages as you saw a new face. It was a man who appeared to be in his early thirties, wearing a faded blue shirt with a dark blue tweed jacket. The first thing you noticed was his eyes, scanning the place, as if he was searching for something. Finally his eyes landed on you as you gave him a friendly smile.

“Hi!” You called, standing up straight from the counter. “You looking for something in particular?” You asked, raising a brow as you walked round the counter, approaching him. He returned the smile, although halfway.

“Erm, yes!” He nodded. “I was wondering if you had any works by Amelia Williams?” He asked, his eyes looking into your own. You had to admit, they were very pretty brown eyes.

“Let’s have a look.” You gave him a small smile before walking towards the section of authors that began with ‘A’. You narrowed your eyes, searching along the shelf before finally landing on one book by the author. “Ah ha.” You said, grabbing the book, pulling it out from the others as you looked down at it. “The Girl Who Waited.” You read the title aloud as you held it out for him to take. The man waltzed towards you, a reminiscent look on his face as he grabbed the book gently from your hands. “Good author?” You asked, raising a brow as he smiled at the book.

“The best.” He said, a hint of sadness in his voice. He opened the book, turning to the last page. “For the mad man in the blue box.” He read, smiling slightly as you pursed your lips.

“That’s an odd dedication.” You laughed lightly. “I suppose only that person would know it was for them. It’s very specific.” You commented as he peered up finally to glance at you.

“Yes... I suppose they would.” He hummed, nodding slightly.

“Would you like to buy it?” You asked, heading back towards the counter to the till. You looked over, seeing the man awkwardly following as he placed the book down.

“Ah yes... Erm...” He began tapping down his jacket as he reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a weird pen looking device, along with a library card with a random old man on it, a miniature barbie doll, a pair of sun glasses and a packet of bubble gum. You stood confused and amazed at how much he had managed to fit into one pocket.

“Are you some sort of magician?” You joked, laughing lightly. He looked back up at you, a small smile on his lips.

“Something like that.” He muttered, before sighing. “I don’t have money.” He admitted, looking defeated.

“Forgot your wallet?” You asked, looking down at the various items on the counter.

“Again, something like that.” He began to pick up the items and place them back inside his pocket. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. Something about him felt genuine.

“Look, why don’t we make a deal?” You sighed. “How about I give you the book for free today, if you come back tomorrow and bring me a cup of tea?” The mans eyes shot back up.

“You don’t have to do that.” He shook his head, as you rolled your eyes and shoved the book into his hands.

“This book obviously means a lot to you.” You told him kindly. “It’s fine. I won’t tell if you don’t.” You smirked as he looked at you like a puppy who had just been given a bone.

“Tea! Tomorrow!” He exclaimed. “It’s a date!” He cried, twirling on his heel, before twirling back, furrowing his brows. “I mean, it’s not a date. It’s a deal. I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to go on a date, there’s nothing wrong with you- I just mean- I-“ You laughed lightly.

“Calm down.” You held your hands up. “It’s just a business deal.” You reassured him as he puffed out some air, nodding before turning once more, dashing out of the shop. You shook your head at the strange man, returning back to your book.

The next day arrived. And for once you were excited to go to work. You watched the door, all morning, waiting for the man to return, whilst trying to read as much of your book as you could.

Eventually, you heard the ding of the bell, as you reacted a bit too quickly, smiling as you looked up to see the stranger from the day before. He seemed to be holding... A teapot? And two cups? You furrowed your brows at the man as he went to the seating area, placing the pot and cups down on the coffee table. You walked around from the counter, staring in disbelief at the man.

“I brought tea!” He grinned, gesturing to the table.

“I can see that!” You laughed. “Is that a tea pot?” You pointed at it as you moved to sit down, as he followed your cue.

“Yes!” He exclaimed. “Borrowed it from an old friend. Well, I say borrowed.” He shrugged. “More like stole now that I think about it.” He seemed to drift off as you laughed.

“You stole someone’s tea pot?” You asked, shaking your head at his antics. “Is that a common occurrence?”

“No!” He frowned. “I’m not some serial tea pot stealer.” He pouted, as he reached for the handle, pouring some tea into the cups. “Milk?” He asked as you nodded. He reached into his inside pocket, pulling out a small bottle of milk. You looked at him in shock. “Sugar?” You nodded once more, gawping as he reached in once more, pulling out a bag of sugar and a spoon.

“Okay, how are you doing that?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“What?” He asked confused, before looking down at the spoon in his hand. “Oh this!” He realised. “Bigger on the inside pockets.” He said casually as you blinked at him.

“Right....” You nodded slowly, reaching out to grab the milk, surprised that it was still cold. “Has anyone told you you’re a bit weird?” You asked, raising a brow as he smiled.

“All the time.” He smirked. “And a little bit socially awkward.” He added.

“I feel that one.” You smiled, reaching for the sugar. “So, what’s your name?” You asked.

“The Doctor.” He smiled, as you nodded. “You? Got a name?”

“(Y/N).” You told him, as he offered you the spoon. You took it and began stirring your tea.

“Well, (Y/N), cheers.” He held out his cup as you clunk yours against his, gently enough that the tea didn’t spill.

“Cheers.” You repeated, taking a sip. “That is some good tea.” You complimented as he took his own sip, however, he seemed to disagree as he pulled a disgusted face, before placing the cup back down. “Don’t like tea?”

“Don’t like a lot of things.” He responded. “Still getting used to this body. New tastebuds.” He commented as you didn’t know what to say. “I saw you reading. What book is it?”

“The Jungle Book.” You smiled, placing your cup down. “I know, it’s a bit childish.” You laughed as he frowned.

“No such thing!” He exclaimed. “You can never be too childish.” He sat back in his chair.

“Was your favourite book Peter Pan growing up by any chance?” You raised a brow, smirking.

“No, The Little Dalek.” He answered casually as you furrowed your brow.

“Never heard of that one. Popular where you’re from?” You asked.

“Not really.” He paused. “Now that I think about it, I’m not convinced it was entirely true.” He seemed to be in thought as you watched him intently. “Anyway!” He suddenly came back to reality. “The Jungle Book! Terrific story.” He grinned.

“Yeah! I’m enjoying it so far. I love reading in between the lines.” You smiled. “For kids it’s a fun story about a boy who grew up with animals, but for adults I suppose it’s about having to choose a path in life.” The Doctor narrowed his eyes, smirking slightly at you.

“What makes you think that?” He asked, curious.

“Well, I mean, Mowgli has a choice to make, doesn’t he?” You raised a brow. “Choose to stay in the jungle, or choose to go home. Like he’s at a crossroad.” You told him as he nodded at your words.

“And you resonate with that?” You thought about his question, pausing as you shrugged.

“I guess so.” You forced a tight smile.

“I don’t think many people think of the story that way.” He told you, but still kept the smile on his lips, and a wonder in his eye.

“I guess not.” You smiled.

“Why a book shop?” He asked next, leaning forwards in his chair. You pondered the question.

“I suppose... Subconsciously it’s because I enjoy reading. I enjoy the escapism... The wonder of the adventures within the pages.” You gave a small smile. “Isn’t that what books are about?” You reached for your tea.

“So you crave adventure?” He raised a brow. You laughed, almost scoffing.

“Doesn’t everyone?” You fired back. “I mean, we get up, get dressed, go to work, eat, sleep... A few get to live their dreams whilst the rest of us settle for something less, because at the end of the day, we’re human. Nothing better than comfortability.”

The Doctor stared at you in wonder. Humans never ceased to amaze him. He quickly stood up, grabbing your hand as he pulled you from your seat.

“What are you doing?” You laughed, placing your cup down whilst you had the chance.

“Come with me.” He grinned, dragging you along behind him.

“I can’t leave! I’m working!” You exclaimed, but fighting against him was useless. He continued to pull you along, rushing out of the shop as he ran towards an old telephone box. “Doctor!” You tried, but he ignored you, stopping outside the door, turning back to face you, excitement in his eyes.

“Okay... I’m about to show you something.” He grinned. You raised a brow.

“Excuse me?” You sounded worried, confused at what this strange man was doing.

“Trust me.” He said confidently as he reached into his pocket, grabbing a key. You narrowed your eyes as he let go of your hand, twisting the key in the lock.

“What are you doing? This is police property. See.” You pointed at the sign on the door stating ‘police public call box’. He laughed lightly.

“Actually, i think you’ll find it’s Gallifreyan property.” He retorted as you furrowed your brows in confusion. Eventually he opened the door, as it squeaked. He stood, grinning at you as you looked confused at him. “Go on. Take a look.” He nodded to the entrance of the box.

“It’s... a box?” You sounded unsure.

“No... it’s really not.” He smirked, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you inside. You yelped as you tripped over the bottom of the box, expecting the fall into a wall when you felt nothing hit your face, but managed to grab onto something that felt like a railing. You opened your eyes, not realising you had closed them incase of impact. You heard the whirring first, before the light hit your eyes. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing a whole room inside. You had forgot about the Doctor for a moment as you took it all in. It was... beautiful. It was... massive.

“H-How are you doing this?” You asked quietly, as the man reappeared in front of you, a smug grin on his lips. “This is...” You immediately turned on your heel, rushing back outside as you rounded the box, making sure there was nothing on the other side. You felt the wood, as you pushed on it, making sure it was real. You were going mad. This was it. You quickly rushed back inside.

“Go on. Say it. They all do.” He smirked, folding his arms as he stood against the console. You blinked before shaking your head.

“You’re a real magician aren’t you?” You breathed out as the smile slowly faded from his face.

“Well, they don’t normally say that.” He sounded disappointed. “And no! I’m not a magician! Got kicked out of the secret circle centuries ago.” He waved you off.

“This doesn’t make any sense!” You cried. “This isn’t remotely possible!”

“On Earth maybe.” He smirked. “But where I’m from this is the norm.” He clapped his hands together. “Shut the door will you, you’re letting in a draft!” You licked your lips before turning and closing the door behind you, walking up the steps to where he was standing.

“What do you mean on Earth? Where you’re from?” You asked, your voice slightly frantic.

“Well, I’m an alien.” He stated as if it was obvious. “Look at me. I look nothing like you.”

“Yes you do.” You argued.

“No you look like me. Big difference.” He retorted turning to the console, pressing some buttons.

“You’re talking rubbish!” You laughed nervously before suddenly stopping. “Oh god.” You realised, looking at him wide eyed. “You drugged me.” The Doctor stopped, furrowing his brows as he looked confused. “The tea! You put something in my tea! I’m tripping!” You began to panic as he shook his head frantically.

“No no no no!” He insisted. “I promise I didn’t drug you! This is real!” He exclaimed. You looked at him, scared for a moment, before reaching out and slapping him across the face. “Ow!” He yelled, rubbing his cheek. “What was that for?!” He exclaimed, staring down at you.

“I don’t know!” You cried. “I wanted to check you were real!” You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh at his face. He looked like a disgruntled toddler.

“There are other ways of checking!” He exclaimed before reaching out and pinching your arm as you yelped, recoiling back.

“Ow!” You yelled as you flared at him.

“See! It’s not nice is it!” He frowned, pouting like a child. “You want proof?” He asked, before turning back, pulling a lever as the ground began to shake. Your eyes widened once again as you held onto the console for dear life.

“What’s happening?!” You cried, watching him as he grinned.

“We’re flying!” He replied. Eventually the floor shopped shaking as everything came to a halt. Your knuckles were white from how hard you had been gripping onto the console. “Well come on then! Don’t just stand there!” You turned to see the Doctor stood at the doors, both of them wide open. You reluctantly let go of the console as you slowly walked to where he was stood. As you got nearer, you realised you were...

“In space...” You muttered. “Those are stars... That’s a planet...” You whispered, a slightly traumatised look on your features as the Doctor smiled gently.

“It is indeed.” He nodded slowly. “What do you think?” You gawped, trying find the words.

“If anyone is robbing the book store, I’m going to kill you.” You said as he rolled his eyes.

“I can have you back right after we left.” He told you. “It’s also a time machine. Did I forget to mention that part?” He furrowed his brows as you looked up at him.

“Who are you?” You asked softly. He gave you a small smile.

“I’m the Doctor. I’m a Timelord. And this is my ship. The TARDIS.” He told you.

“A blue box?” You laughed lightly. “The blue box?” You referred to the afterword in Amelia William’s book. He nodded. “So you’re a mad man?” You raised a brow.

“The good kind.” He insisted as you narrowed your eyes. “Now, (Y/N), you have a choice to make...” He learnt against the frame of the door. “All of time and space or a book store?” He paused.

“Wanna have some adventures of your own?”

Taglist: @drapetxmaniia @dannighost @imagine-whatever @the-sweet-space-bi @blamerogertaylor @koschei-taylor @koschei-studies @lostshadow12 @hannahlilyyx @wonders-of-the-multiverse @ettorah @nikey-no-likey @imthedoctorlove @twentysomethingloser92 @sometimes-i-feel-like-falling @hellothedoctorisreal @tragic-and-tried @kind-sober-fullydressed @chiswicknoble @sherly-not-obsessed @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @psychobitchtess

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #dr who #fanfic #sacha dhawan #dhawan!doctor x reader #dhawan!doctor #doctor x reader #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #dw #dw series 12 #dw fanfic

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forgeandgredimagines · 4 years

Text

Foolish 『 Percy Jackson x Spy! Reader 』

Request: I was wondering if I could request a Percy Jackson x reader imagine? Taking place during the pjo books and the reader is the spy for Luke instead of Selina. Percy falls for her, and at first she started dating him just to use him for information, but eventually, she falls for him too and has a change of heart. But before she can tell him he finds out some other way and feels really betrayed/upset. You don’t have to though, I just love your imagines and wanted to see you bring this idea to life! A/N: woot woot, this has been gathering dust in my drafts for so long. I really liked the concept but it took me a while to write something I was happy with because I’ve never really written angst much hehe but I tried my best!! I hope you enjoy Warnings: Swearing :> Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist!!

You still remember when you first joined the Titan Army. You were so undeniably naive and filled to the brim with unprecedented hate and resentment towards the gods. Towards your father, whoever he was. Towards the entirety of Olympus. Joining Kronos’ forces would mean that you could actually make a change, that you could actually amount to something. However, in a few short months, you would come to realize that that person was a fool. A dumb, dumb, fool.

You were eating breakfast when a satyr ran into the mess hall announcing the arrival of new demigods, two girls who were from the same school, but they didn’t seem to be siblings. Arriving at camp is a feat in it of itself but two demigods arriving at the same time was rare, to say the least. That wasn’t what was important, what was important was that the young halfbloods and their assigned satyr made it to camp safely.

You were there to greet them when they arrived, along with a handful of other campers and Chiron. They were bruised and bit shaken up but ultimately unharmed. Lucky, extremely lucky. They were healed and patched up and being the only camper in the Hermes cabin around, you were the one to lead them towards their temporary lodging.

You decided to tour them around camp a few hours after their arrival. You always enjoyed watching the easily impressed campers’ faces as you first show them the pegasi stables, the lava spewing climbing wall and all the other wonders the camp had to offer. You recall to when you still thought of camp to be paradise, a secret haven you never wanted to leave. But lately, it started to feel like a prison. Like you were a bird stuck in a cramped cage.

Later that evening, as the campers were gathering around the amphitheater, one of the girls from earlier was claimed by her godly parent. She was a child of Apollo. Her companion, later claimed that same week, a child of Hephaestus.

You were glad for the campers but every time someone was claimed, you couldn’t help the rage and envy bubbling inside you. Why? After all your years at camp, why doesn’t your father bother to claim you. Over the years, this feeling of hate just kept on festering and growing, until it completely engulfed your being.

It was no surprise for neither you nor Luke that you accepted his offer to join his side so wholeheartedly. It was your long awaited chance to get justice for you and the world, justice from the wretched gods.

What was a surprise however was that Luke didn’t want you to leave camp with him and his army. In fact, he wanted you to stay put.

This didn’t bode well for you. You were itching to leave, itching to go do something worthwhile, not to just rot at camp like you always have. But Luke was the boss, his word is law. You couldn’t do anything but comply with his instructions to be a spy for the Titan Army.

You stared contemplatively at the Big House as you sharpened your sword, your ears falling deaf of your cabinmates’ gossip about how Silena and Charles were caught making out in the strawberry fields.

You had been a spy for months now, gathering information and plans, and sending them off to Luke. But now, it wasn’t enough. You realized that every single detail of plans and courses of action weren’t disclosed to the average camper. The people that were entrusted with this information were the cabin counsellors, other important campers and staff members.

You pondered becoming the counsellor of the Hermes cabin before realizing that you couldn’t do that in a span of a few days. You grumbled and return your focus on sharpening your sword before your attention was once again drawn towards the big house.

A meeting had just ended. A dozen or so campers and staff members leave the big house, whispering amongst themselves, a serious look in their eyes. It’s evident that they were talking about something important. You were positively dying to know what it was.

The last people to leave was Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, who were discussing something with Chiron. Those two were undeniably the campers Chiron trusted the most. He’d never admit it, like how a parent would say they don’t have a favorite but secretly they really do.

The realization of what you have to do in order to get the information you needed hits you in a flash. You needed them. More specifically, you needed Percy Jackson.

The plan itself was simple and straightforward. It was inconspicuous and foolproof. You realized that you had to gain the trust of an important camper. Slowly, bit by bit, lowering their guard until you have them wrapped around your finger without them knowing it. They’d unconsciously tell you about their plans, their thoughts, and whatever info they could spill about the camp and Olympus, and you’d send this off to Luke and the army.

It was absolutely perfect.

Ideally, Annabeth would be this person. She was arguably the smartest camper and is the one who knows the most things regarding battle plans and strategies. But with that in mind, she might catch on to you and blow your cover. You decide that she may not be the best option, thus leading you to the next best one: Percy.

You know that Percy wasn’t an idiot, but he was certainly more softhearted than Annabeth. More extroverted and easier to befriend. He was an easier nut to crack. Asides from that, Percy was extremely loyal, once he trusts you, it takes a lot for him to take that trust away. You knew how much he tried to see the good in people, even when there really wasn’t.

You ignored the small pang of guilt you felt in your chest as you thought through your plan and force yourself to go to sleep.

“Hey! Jackson!” You call out, waving your hands out to him. “Can you lend me a hand?”

Percy jogs towards you and greets you goodnaturedly. You were surprised that he knew your name. He took in your drenched, cold state but didn’t say anything. “What’s up?”

You chuckle sheepishly and gesture towards the canoe a few feet into the lake. The water was still shallow, only reaching your knees. The canoe you were using earlier had tipped and water gathered into the it, making it start to sink. You tried to row back to the land as fast as you could but it kept on sinking until it got stuck on the sand. Well, that’s what it looks like anyways.

“--and now I can’t get it to budge.” You conclude, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’ve obviously never really done this much before.”

“It’s fine! I got it.” Percy smiled kindly and started to manipulate the water into pushing the canoe to the shore. “You shouldn’t have tried canoeing on your own if you’re this inexperienced, you could have drowned or something.”

You shrug and sigh glumly, kicking the sand around with your feet. “I just, wanted to be alone for a while I guess.” You avoided eye contact from the male but you could sense him watching you carefully. “It was stupid of me, I know, I’m sorry.”

The canoe was now back on land and dry, as if it wasn’t just submerged in the lake a few seconds ago.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Percy asked cautiously.

You looked up at him and stared at his sea green eyes. They were so soft and kind. Your chest panged once again, just like it did a few days ago, but you ignored it.

“I’d like that.”

After that day, you and Percy started to spend more and more time together. That day in the lake, you two sat on the dock as you told him about your struggles in camp, with your parents (both mortal and immortal), and with your concerns regarding the safety of the camp.

Percy was surprisingly a really good listener, and actually gave you really good advice. He actually even made you genuinely laugh a few times.

You two slowly started to hang out more, you would have lunch together, train together and just goof around.

All though you were just forcing yourself to hang out with him before, you slowly started not to dread seeing him. It didn’t feel like a chore to spend time with him anymore. You would never admit it, but you actually looked forward to when you would see the son of Poseidon next.

He wasn’t all that bad, in fact, he was actually really fun. He didn’t make you feel like an outsider, he actually listened to you and you listened to him.

He made you laugh, and momentarily forget your woes, your mission, that this was fake, that your friendship wasn’t real.

Over the weeks, and soon months, the pangs of guilt taking root into your heart and conscience just kept increasing in intensity and frequency. But you keep on ignoring it, you knew where your loyalties lie, you already picked your side.

“--okay this is really hard, why is this so hard? Oh my gods, what the hell?”

You place your hand on Percy’s shoulder and stop him from rambling even more. You two were on the docks again by the lake. It was a secluded area and where you two first got close, it was where you two usually met up.

“Calm down, dummy. What is it?”

Percy took in a deep breath and said softly. “I like you...”

You take in a sharp intake of breath and heart began to pound as your cheeks began to heat up. You felt...*happy.*

“Wha-what?” You mutter out, completely flabbergasted.

“I said I like you! And you don’t have to say anything else, I just wanted you to know because I’ve liked you for a while now. Even before we became close I already thought you were really pretty and I always wanted to talk to you so I was really glad that we became friends and---“

Percy’s rambling started to fade out as a background noise as you realized what this meant.

It felt as if a million thoughts were flying in your head. All contradicting each other, all colliding and butting heads.

Your brief moment of joy was replaced by the guilt, the regret, which was more intense than ever. Your heart pounded even more, but this time it hurt with every beat.

Tears prickled in your eyes. “I--I like you too.”

Percy’s rambling was cut off short, his cheeks too were dusted pink. “Really? Oh my gods, I can’t believe it, wait, why are you crying?”

You didn’t realize that your tears started to pour freely. “Are you okay?”

I’m sorry.

“I’m just really happy.”

I’m so sorry.

Percy grinned sheepishly and embraced you tightly. Which only made you feel worse as you cried silently into his shoulder.

You were now dating Percy Jackson. People congratulated you, patted you on the back and wished you two the best. You even started to get closer with Annabeth and Grover. Things were going great, they were unfolding just as the plan said it would, it was going better than expected actually. Yet, the dull ache in your chest never seemed to cease.

Even as Luke commended you for your work, praised you and made promises that would normally have make you ecstatic, the pain never stopped.

The only time it stopped was when you were with Percy. When he holds your hand, wraps you tightly in his arms, only then does it stop.

When he kisses you, and whispers sweet nothings, only then do you feel at ease. He made you forget, just as he did before you two were together.

You found yourself seeking out for him, even when you didn’t need any new info to pass through to Luke. You began to seek his presence, his touch, his love.

It was like a disease spreading throughout your being. A poison injected into your bloodstream and it was without a cure.

You started to love him.

With each passing day of genuinely loving him, the feeling of guilt and shame tripled. You were trapped, you dug your own grave.

You didn’t know how many times you cried yourself to sleep, or how many prayers you’ve offered to the gods. You just wished for all of this to be over.

When you were with Percy, you liked to pretend that you two were just regular people. Mortal people, with normal lives where all you had to worry about were college entrance exams and assignments. And everything was okay, for a moment, all that mattered was that you were with him, and that was enough.

The spell wore off when you were alone. And you’re back in reality again and the guilt comes back in waves, always increasing in strength with each one.

How could you be so foolish?

“Hey where’s Percy?” You ask around camp, most of the campers shrugged and told you they didn’t know. It was still early in the morning, he was usually out and about at this hour.

“He and a couple campers left a few hours ago.” A nymph answered as she stared at her reflection in the lake, stroking her hair absentmindedly. “Someone came and said they spotted a couple members of the Titan Army near camp.”

You pressed your lips together disappointedly and thanked the nymph. You spent the morning in the strawberry fields as you thought through your new, more morally ethical plan.

Your mind was clear for the first time in months and your chest ached less frequently. You hadn’t been this calm since before being with Percy.

You supposed that you had subconsciously chosen your true side when you started feeding Luke false information a few weeks ago. But now you truly accepted it, you knew what you had to do. It was only right.

You realized that Percy might not want to be with you anymore once you tell him the truth and although the thought of it hurt, you knew that it was for the best. He deserved better than you anyways.

He would hate you. Well...you supposed you deserved it. You had it coming after all.

A small part of you still hoped though, that he might forgive you, that he might still want to be with you...that maybe he might still love you.

You were sitting on the dock when the sun was about to set. You were absentmindedly flipping through an old manual written in ancient greek, your mind elsewhere, when someone began to approach you.

You quickly recognized the footsteps and jump up to greet Percy.

“You’re back! I was so worried about you, they said--“ You go to hug the male but he backed away.

His head was low, his jet black hair covering his face. You took in his disheveled appearance. His clothes were torn in places and singed in others. His leg was bandaged and his arms were covered in cuts and bruises. They stayed locked at his side, his fists were clenched and shaking slightly.

“Percy what’s wrong--“

“I know.” He says, practically whispering, his voice wavering. “They told me, they told me everything.”

“You what? What do you mean--?” His face whips up and you knew what he meant even before he said anything.

His eyes, which used to be filled with joy and affection when they were on you, were now wounded. The pain was evident, the betrayal in them as clear as day.

“How could you?!” He cries out, his voice loud and shaking. “We trusted you, I trusted you.”

You take a step forward, he takes one back. Your hand starts to move on their own, inching its way to wipe the hot tears from his face.

He slapped it away. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He spits out. His eyes, no longer pained, but cold and hard.

It hurt, not the slap, but the way he looked at you. Like you were the lowliest scum of the earth.

He finally sees you as you truly are. You thought bitterly to yourself. It’s what you deserve anyways.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Percy, please, I can explain.” You plead as tears began to flow freely down your cheeks. You were shaking now as well.

As much as you tried to plead with the son of Poseidon, you knew deep down that it was of no use. The damage was done. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

You couldn’t believe how much of a fool you were.

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

its all you know

Run to Paradise & Charlotte Lee 'verse

Summary: Sometimes Nikki wonders what it would be like if their respective youths hadn't been a living hell.

A/N: @misscharlottelee said she missed my lola content and i was thinking abt a hs au for the pacl (which i still might write, i have genuine ideas for a legit hs au) so i wrote this on my phone on a whim. ft. mentions of Charlotte and Nikki and Lola's lowkey possibly joking possibly not crush on her (and TW for brief mention of suicidal ideation)

Nikki looks at Lola sometimes and wonders about how things would be if life had been kind. If her dad had been around, and her mom wasn't a bitch, and her whole life hadn't gone to shit, would she still be in his arms, telling him she loves him by telling she loves his songs, with that sincerity in her voice, in her eyes, that melts his heart's defenses without her even meaning to.

What if life had been kind to him, if his dad had stuck around, if his mom wasn't a raging cunt with a string of asshole boyfriends, that couldn't give a shit about Nikki. Would he still be here in this golden Thursday afternoon, tracing patterns on Lola's scarred back, telling her that she's beautiful with his lips against her shoulder when he can't look her in the eye for fear of her seeing his honesty.

What if they'd grown up together, white picket fences side by side, normal kids with normal lives; Nikki still plays music, there's no reality he can see himself in without it.

"Dad would have loved you," he remembers Lola once saying. She'd thought the world of him, sometimes Nikki would have liked to have met him. If he'd been around, Lola would be different, and probably more well adjusted. In this fantasy Nikki's created for himself, a childhood not stolen, her dad probably comes to Nikki's gigs; he would have liked their style, after all, if what Lola says is anything to go by.

Sometimes Nikki envies Tommy and Charlotte, who didn't have to grow up too fast, who went to prom, and on cute dates, and who got to have reasonably normal lives. Sometimes, in this fantasy world he's creating for himself, this youth that he was never allowed to have, he brings them all together, pieces out a life from the stories Charlotte and Tommy and Vince have reminisced about. He wonders about prom, about laughing at Vince in a white suit, who agreed to go with Charlotte when her first choice turned her down, and he thinks about Charlotte and Lola getting ready together, laughing and talking and smiling, still able to smile without reservation or hesitation.

In this idealised world, he thinks he might even work at Lola's dad's takeout shop; the old man takes a liking to him for his music after all. Tommy would complain that he's still unemployed, but somehow, even in this fantasy, Nikki's looking for excuses to stay out of his house. Old habits die hard.

And this Lola would be sweet, would still have a dad to idolise and teach her right from wrong, lead her on a better path than any she was destined for the moment he'd passed. But she's still Lola, a bit rough and tumble, a little bit rock and roll, but she doesn't feel the constant need to prove herself. She'd laugh at Nikki's jokes and call him an old fucker who likes dad music, but she'd be his favorite person to work with, because she'd always be the first to hype up his new music.

Nikki claims to be too cool for prom, but ends up driving the rest of the gang, and Lola stays by his side the whole night, and shares the flask of vodka she'd borrowed from her dad. He won't be too mad; he could never be mad at Lola. She rides shotgun on the way back and Nikki's got his hand on her thigh and doesn't move it, even when Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince notice and loudly tease them. He kisses her before she leaves, and it actually would give him butterflies.

But they wouldn't be the same people.

The world is unkind, even to those who don't deserve it, and if they had met bacm in high school, Lola wouldn't have looked him in the eyes, a frightened and downtrodden mouse of a girl. Nikki knows he'd only be interested in corrupting her, not caring what consequences it would wreak on her life when he got bored and tossed her aside.

"What do you think would have happened if we'd met in high school?" Nikki asks softly, and Lola shifts a little in bed in order to look at him.

"You probably would have terrified me," she tells him with a sharp smile, on her side, one arm reaching across his belly to pull herself a little closer to him, "mom wouldn't have let me think of you, let alone talk to you, and between supressing the urge to kill myself and piano lessons, I didn't exactly have a lot of time for new friends." And though her tone is light, Nikki's expression still crumples, sympathetic to her struggles, given his own rocky high school years. But Lola makes a considering noise, which brings him back to the present.

"Actually, I'm not sure," she admits, "technically we did meet in high school, at least for me." Nikki often forgets that she'd never even properly graduated middle school. "Why?" She asks, interested in his train of thought.

"Vince took Charlotte to prom once," Nikki says with a hint of a smile, and Lola pressed her laughter into his chest.

"Yeah I heard about that."

"I'm just thinking about what it would have been like if we had been normal too; what if we got to grow up together, all of us, with that whole happy families, white picket fence shit?"

"Do you think we would have slow danced?" Lola teases, poking him in the ribs, and Nikki snorts.

"I think we would have gotten drunk together -"

"Would we be a whole cliche? Take my virginity in the back seat of your beat up old car on prom night?" But she's grinning, her adoring little smile pressed soft against his skin as she looks up at him, falling more in love with him as she falls in love with the fantasy.

"But we wouldn't really talk about it, except that I'd come to your house in the week and throw rocks at your window until you snuck me in," Nikki leaned in and pressed a kiss to her hair. Lola sighs, tucks herself against him, warm and content in the moment.

"You'd be my backup date, by the way," Nikki teases, to which Lola made an indignant noise in the back of her throat, and Nikki elaborates on the verge of laughter, "I definitely would have asked Charlie, but she thought I was kind of gross and an asshole."

"You are gross and an asshole, not just kind of," Lola smirks, but continues with surprising sweetness before he can respond properly, "that's why I love you."

"How would we even know each other in this timeline? I don't know about you, but if my life had gone differently, there's no way I'd still be the same person," Lola asks, brow burrowing.

"Oh, we both work in your dad's restaurant," he tells her, like its the most obvious thing in the world, and Lola's whole being softens to something warm and fond at the mere mention of her dad.

"He really would have loved you," she confirms his suspicions with a soft chuckle.

"I don't think we'd be here," Nikki gestures to their bed, their surrounds, their life, "but we'd end up together. Somehow. In all my realities, I see you in the end," he admits.

"You've been blinded by love, you sap," but Lola's blushing, and Nikki can't help it as he pushes kt further, enjoying Lola's rare sweet and flustered state.

"Maybe I juat don't want to see a reality without you."

Lola's actually gone speechless, her fond smile and pink cheeks hidden where she's pressed her whole face against his chest. Nikki holds her just a little tighter, wearing his smuggest little smirk.

"Okay but what if Razz was in this little fantasy of yours?" Lola finally surfaces, resting her chin on his chest.

"I would make fun of his accent constantly," Nikki answers with probably too much certainty, "I am and I was an asshole," he reminds her, not that Lola's trying to correct him.

"Even if he was dating Charlie?"

"Especially if he was dating Charlie; you've seen her high school photos, Charlie was just as much of a bombshell back then. See she and Vince make sense going to prom together, both of them being hot as all hell, but that weird little English fucker landing Charlie while we're all in high school? I'm not even sure how he managed it as an adult." Nikki snorts, and Lola punches his chest and calls him an asshole.

"You're so mean to them sometimes," but she's smiling even as she rolls her eyes, "Razz is cute, you're just jealous."

"And you're not?"

"Every day, dude, obviously, but she's my friend and I told her I'd get you to be a little nicer."

"You can try," he says with his most shiteating grin before silence falls between them.

"Where would we end up, if not here?" Lola asks, so quiet her voice is barely a whisper, the hypothetical playing in her head on repeat.

"We'd be different people," Nikki muses quietly.

"Sounds like everyone around us would be different too, stable and shit, happy families."

"We'd probably end up just like them," Nikki says with a laugh that sounds a little hollow at the very thought, "you'd be a PTA mom and running your dad's shop, and I'd be teaching music, and we'd have Sunday brunch with the Lees."

"Not the Dingeys?"

"Charlie and Razz would move back to England."

Lola hums thoughtfully at the mental image, but something about the stale serenity of it all has Nikki's stomach turning at the thought.

"Is it bad that I'm glad we're in the reality where everything went wrong?" She asks softly. Nikki swallows hard, and in this moment, knows clearly, and with absolute certainty, that he is in love with her. She gets him, without even realizing, she understands him so completely.

"There's no reality I'd rather be in," he agrees.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx imagine #charlotte & lola #the angry lizard writes #the dirt #motley crue

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missfay49 · 4 years

Text

Sanders Sides Theory 01/15/20

You want a long theory? HERE’s A LONG FREAKIN THEORY.

To build off an earlier post of mine here, I believe we can reverse engineer the function of the next Side by analyzing the roles of the current known Sides in the context of their correlating sin. I’ve included some flower meanings based on the shirt release but couldn’t identify them all from the photos available. Please reach out to me if you have identified all the flowers.

Pride!Logan

Logic / Craves Stability / Reaction to adversity is to Double down

Logan is proud, but not about just anything. He values intelligence, critical thinking, and the lofty goals of exploration: re: the astronomy class hype, and “what really is at the bottom of the ocean?” He prides himself in being right 100% of the time and utilizes information to do so.

When he missuses the word “infinitesimal” it is devastating to him. It is brought up repeatedly in subsequent episodes and culminates in him feeling like one mistake will prevent him from ever being taken seriously again. He hates being wrong, because he believes that if he’s wrong, C!Thomas will literally fail at life, becoming destitute and homeless. The stakes are real.

He needs to ensure success, which is why he first pushes C!Thomas to pursue more traditional careers. His arc is about accepting that success in life can take on different forms.

Sloth!Virgil

Anxiety (Paranoia) / Reaction to adversity is to Give up

Virgil is often seen promoting activities that would be considered lazy, i.e. going back to bed in the middle of the day, staying home when they could go out, doing less work, trying fewer new things. His makeup is a dramatized symbol for lack of sleep. There are multiple instances showing him reluctant to spend more time even just in the presence of the other Sides; “Now I’m gonna go be cool, somewhere else.” Ducking out is the pinnacle of sloth.

But sloth as a behavior is just a symptom of the actual condition: social anxiety and mild paranoia. Check out my short paranoia theory here. Virgil resorts to inaction as a defense against feeling insecure about something. Wanted to go to that party, but you’re too nervous to talk to new people? Well, actually, just stay in. It’s safer and you need your rest.

That’s why Virgil’s arc is not about finding the motivation to do things; that would only work if laziness was the true problem. Instead, his arc is about learning to think through fears and overcome them, so C!Thomas can do what he actually wants, which is to be more social.

Gluttony!Patton

Morality / Flower: Blue Forget-me-not / Craves Community / Reaction to Adversity is to Fake-it-til-you-make-it

Patton is about cravings. Food, pets, friends; he wants it all. He’s about enjoying everything life has to offer, gosh-darn the consequences. He wants friends so badly he’s consistently willing to sacrifice his own well-being to put them first. The concept of morality often focuses on giving instead of receiving. It’s a way to prove to them that he’s a good friend, and therefore worth keeping around. What seems like sacrifice is actually a careful prioritization of his favorite thing to indulge in: acceptance. Being happy all the time is not just a show for the other Sides, it’s for C!Thomas’ friends as well. People don’t want to be around someone who’s sad, right? Gotta be happy, so they stick around.

Forget-me-nots are about happy memories and we already know Patton is a sucker for nostalgia. One of his favorite things are memories, so he goes to extreme lengths to make lots of good memories with his friends. Patton’s arc will ultimately be Not about diminishing his craving for friendship but realizing that he can be his most authentic self without losing them. He can loosen the rules that he internalized. Real friendship does not require perfection.

Greed!Deceit

Self-Preservation / Flower: Yellow Sunflower / Reaction to adversity is Sowing Discord

Deceit, like Logan, is also focused on C!Thomas’ success. The difference is, he could not care less what that success looks like, only that C!Thomas gets it. Where Logan is all about careful planning and preparedness, Deceit is about taking risks and seizing opportunities. How can C!Thomas get the most out of life? No, don’t worry about other people. There is only C!Thomas.

Deceit’s objective is to eliminate the consequences of C!Thomas’ mistakes and increase the rewards for his effort. He will do whatever it takes, whether that’s coaching C!Thomas to lie to others, or to be more honest with himself. His stance is that since our society is built on lies, we should be willing to use lies to navigate it. Deceit believes that if C!Thomas is honest to himself about what he wants, he’ll pursue it even at the risk of losing people along the way. Simply put, Deceit must learn that no one makes it alone. The sunflower symbolizes false riches, and this explains why Deceit’s assumption is wrong. We all depend on others to reach our full potential, and a world where C!Thomas has gained everything by discarding or disadvantaging others is one C!Thomas wouldn’t want to live in. It’s more difficult, but it’s worth it in the end to work with other people instead of around them.

Lust!Roman

Creativity / Flower: Red Rose / Reaction to adversity is Denial

It’s easy to see that Roman is all about finding that special someone. Red roses symbolize love. He’s dashing, brave, and often combats mythical creatures, not for fun (although it is fun), but to prove his manliness to a potential mate! But this Side is actually one of the most complicated. He believes himself to be the most handsome Side, and he better be, because it is his duty to secure the end-all-be-all of C!Thomas’ life: romantic love. Someone to spend your life with, grow old with. The initial conflict between Roman and Anxiety is entirely because having Anxiety around would theoretically lower his chances of securing a relationship. Once he saw that Anxiety could do what needed to be done in “Accepting Anxiety”, he was able to let go of that worry.

But remember, Roman is also about Self-Love. The creativity that he pumps out isn’t art for art’s sake; it’s to bring himself joy and to fill that hole in his heart with some kind of excitement. If he can’t throw all his passion at a person, he’ll throw it onto the stage. That’s why each time his work is criticized, he’s confronted with the fear that it’s all just a distraction anyway. Yes, he is objectively good at acting and enjoys it, but part of C!Thomas uses all these creative projects to feel something he isn’t getting anywhere else.

The Roman angst dates aaaall the way back to the Valentine’s Day Episode, wherein C!Thomas decided that platonic love was important to acknowledge, too. Roman had already stated in the first episode that he would focus on loving himself. But maybe on that particular Valentine’s day, C!Thomas stopped trying so hard to find romance. Maybe he fell back on what he already had, the love of his friends, and thought to himself, this could be enough. And each time an opportunity to feel true passion comes up again, C!Thomas rejects it. First when trying to rekindle things with the ex-boyfriend, then with the big call-back. C!Thomas is putting his love life on hold to deal with other things right now, and it’s wearing on Roman.

The worst part is that it’s entirely possible, maybe even likely, that Roman (and therefore C!Thomas) isn’t sure what will happen once he’s found someone. RE: Episode #1 – his greatest fear is rejection.

In “Am I Original?” C!Thomas states that if he only ever listened to Roman, he would be setting himself up for heartbreak. That’s why Roman makes the final ruling in the court room. That’s why he quietly accepts it every time they make a decision away from love (with impromptu exceptions – “PICK IT UP!”). He both wants and fears love at the same time. Roman’s arc isn’t really about what he needs to do differently, but about what C!Thomas needs to let him do for himself. His stories aren’t about him getting his way and then finding out he took it too far. They’re about him not getting anything at all. Once he gets the green light from C!Thomas, he will do what he’s always done; Throw caution to the wind in the pursuit of love.

Envy!Remus

Creativity / Flower: Green Dahlia / Reaction to adversity is Acting out for Attention

All the “Dark” Sides were pushed away for one reason or another, but it seems to hit Remus particularly hard. It’s not fair that his brother should be chosen over him. He considers himself not even just as good as Roman, but in many ways better at being creative! His range is limitless, and he is confident in his abilities, unlike his brother. He should be the main Creativity, not that crybaby!

Remus tries over and over again to make C!Thomas notice him. He gives everything he’s got into each new idea, hoping that this one will be ‘the one’ to earn him C!Thomas’ recognition, but it never does. Remus embodies envy. It is his driving force; ALL he wants is consideration for his ideas.

Since Remus feels envious, C!Thomas does too. If Remus wants to reach new heights of fame, so must C!Thomas! From Remus’ standpoint, Roman isn’t getting the job done, so he’ll just have to keep throwing idea-after-horrifying-idea at C!Thomas until he gets through to the man.

Wrath!X?

Now for the hard part: figuring out what’s missing. (You can check out my earlier Anger Theory here.)

Let’s summarize how the other Sides use their traits real quick:

Logan is proud of his intelligence that he uses to gain financial security.

Virgil is slothful as a result of his desire to feel safe.

Patton is gluttonous as the result of his goal to make C!Thomas feel happiness and enjoy life in the moment.

Deceit is greedy as a result of his goal to help C!Thomas navigate this world and come out on top.

Roman is lustful as a result of his goal to secure a loving, stable relationship for C!Thomas.

Remus is envious as a result of his goal to get C!Thomas to make a lasting mark on the world like so many have before.

For most of the Sides, the sin is directly related to the Sides’ function. It’s their method of achieving their goals. But there appears to be an outlier. Logan seems different. He doesn’t need to be proud in order to be intelligent, at least on the surface. But, maybe that’s not true. Maybe if he didn’t feel proud when he learned new things, he would have no motivation to seek out information in the first place. Therefore, pride is essential to Logan’s function.

All the Sides rely on their sin to accomplish their goals. They first have a goal, a job that they are supposed to complete for C!Thomas. Then, the sin is their method of executing that job. The function of the Side comes before the sin.

So, if wrath is the means, what is the goal? What does C!Thomas need to be angry about in order to accomplish it?

What are all the instances where we see C!Thomas (not the individual Sides) get mad, even a little?

TOAwLS - C!Thomas gets frustrated with Anxiety popping up even when nothing’s wrong.

TMvTH - C!Thomas gets mad at Logan and Patton for pelting him with conflicting goals.

GU - C!Thomas acts mad at Patton for dreaming too much, but really, he’s lashing out at Patton because the others are pushing him too far in the other direction.

MOP2 - C!Thomas rudely disregards Logan for disrupting nostalgia-time.

SVS - C!Thomas gets mad at himself for considering lying to his friends.

If we’re being honest, this is a short list, and some of these don’t even really qualify as anger. He’s more just kind of experiencing frustration as he works through things. The most angry he gets is when it affects real people in his life; Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding. He feels terrible about it, but he’s angry for two reasons here. First, that the scheduling conflict even exists, because it’s denying him an important opportunity. Second, because the situation caused him to confront a truth about himself that he’s never been comfortable with.

But we have one more example to work with; the Aside. In ATHD? - C!Thomas got mad at Rico for past feelings that weren’t even specifically against C!Thomas. We don’t see it, but we see the effects. C!Thomas is so angry with himself for lashing out, and it tells us that he’s had a lot of anger before that he never released. Anger about being in the closet when he was younger. There are plenty of hints in the episode on this theme:

Roman calls C!Thomas a snowflake.

This shot from the movie: “You must learn to control it. Fear will be your enemy.”

And most importantly, the lines “Don’t let them in, don’t let them see”. Patton did purposely sing those lines of the Frozen song “Let it go”, which has often been correlated to coming out of the closet, because that was directly tied to the theme of the premier Aside.

C!Thomas had so conditioned himself to defend his sexuality that even the mention of past prejudice was enough to set him off, causing him to overreact in the situation with Rico. He was transported back to a time when he was still closeted, afraid to come out because of people like Rico’s younger self. Now that he’s older, he feels anger toward the people he knew back then, and he took that anger out on Rico.

Let’s take a step back for a second. What is C!Thomas’ ultimate goal for himself? Balance. And what is C!Thomas’ ultimate goal for others? Love and understanding.

C!Thomas got as angry as he did because this isn’t just about him anymore. The prejudice that he remembered and was reacting to is something that people continue to face all the time. As much as he struggled, he’s empathetic enough to know that others must be struggling, too, and his anger at Rico was actually anger at prejudice.

When the last Side is revealed, it will signal that the arc is closing and the series will eventually be coming to an end. Will the series have made its mark? Way back in IIADS!!, Anxiety unintentionally suggested, “using your platform to positively affect your audience the same way Disney did with you” It’s not just about C!Thomas anymore. It’s about you. Us.

The biggest effect C!Thomas could have on his audience is self-actualization; becoming the most he can be and doing the most good for others that he possibly can. Prejudice is an issue that has personally affected him and clearly affects his audience. Fighting prejudice is a cause worth getting angry about, WORTH showing a little wrath.

Logan and Virgil have affected how C!Thomas takes in information. Deceit and Patton affect how he moves through that world. Roman and Remus affect how he wants his work to be seen on a personal level. But Wrath will be how C!Thomas affects the world at large. Wrath will lead the charge for affecting real change. Wrath will close out the series and launch a generation of inspired viewers to go out into their own worlds and fight for their freedoms. Wrath will be our hero.

Thanks so much for reading! This has gone on long enough, so I’m adding some bonus theories in the links below tomorrow with other things I noticed during the research for this post. Hope you enjoyed it!

Bonus Theory now here!

Bonus BONUS Theory now here!

#sanders sides theory #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #romans sanders #remus sanders #orange sanders #pride!logan #sloth!virgil #gluttony!patton #greed!deceit #lust!roman #envy!remus #wrath!orange #01/15/20 #i've been working on this for over a month #such relief #wow

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

no more math and history, summer time has set us free 3/?

AO3 link

First session revs up.

Arya’s schedule gives her Thursdays and Saturdays off. On Thursdays Ygritte handles the stables by herself, and there are no riding lessons given on Saturdays.

The first Thursday, Arya spends the morning dropping her clothes off at the camp laundry, and then putting them away when they’re done. Since half her clothes are missing their name labels, she finds it easier just to wait around until they’re done rather than risking someone else getting her knickers.

After lunch, Arya decides to take a step into the drama barn and see what Sansa’s up to this summer.

The drama barn is actually a barn, though there are no stalls and no animals. A raised stage takes up most of the space, the lights and prop and costume storage up in the haylofts. When they put on the end of session show, the doors are opened and the audience sits outside under the stars.

Sansa had told her the second night at camp that the first session they were putting on Alice in Wonderland, the second the Wizard of Oz and lastly Peter Pan. Arya always liked watching the shows, and not just because the mass overrepresentation of girls in the drama program always led to some interesting cross-casting.

Right now, Sansa and Margaery are passing around scripts to this group of campers. Most of the campers are young enough they're basically yelling their lines, making the wit sound utterly goofy. The CIT is a blonde girl, who at closer inspection, Arya realizes is Joffrey’s sister Myrcella.

Arya asks about her after the campers start to disperse.

“Bran ran into her a few days ago,” Sansa admits.

“Did she say anything about…” Arya raises an eyebrow, hoping that says enough.

Sansa’s expression turns sour.

“Her and Tommen live with their uncle now. Joffrey’s going to trial in a few months because right after he turned eighteen he got drunk and plowed his car into a sidewalk, killing two people. Their mother went on a series of very public interviews about how it wasn’t his fault, but only revealed to the rest of the world how bad her drinking problem is…”

Arya’s gaze remains steady.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say I told you so.”

Sansa sniffs and shakes her head.

“You don’t have to, I should have known. I should have seen, even his own brother and sister didn’t like him.”

Arya pulls herself onto a crate of masks and looks Sansa in the eye.

“And at least your taste has improved since then.”

Sansa hadn’t had time to date much in the last few years, but the ones Arya had met seemed decent enough. Right now, Sansa’s gaze is aimed across the barn to where Margaery is checking over the Alice in Wonderland costumes. They’re mostly over-large foam headed animal costumes, suitable for children of many sizes, but there are a few that look more like typical clothing. She holds up the Queen of Hearts costume, a long filmy red thing.

“Is that your costume?”

Sansa nods, smiling, eyes still trailed on Margaery.

“I have to, I’m the only one tall enough to wear it. Sometimes if we’re unlucky it ends up being a boy“

Her eyes stay, and Arya’s follow. Margaery is lovely, golden chestnut curls, a huge red smile, the kind of body that was the envy of other girls.

Including Sansa, it seemed.

Arya’s voice softens.

“Are you still not comfortable with it?”

Sansa ducks her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Coming out to people outside the family.”

Sansa’s eyes fall closed. Arya had been the first person she had told when she had come to the realization that she was bisexual. It was still one of Arya’s proudest moments, that her sister trusted her that much. The other siblings had been similarly easy, but Sansa had been so frightened to tell their Mum, certain that with her old-fashioned ways, she would disapprove.

She’d never had the chance to find out.

Figuring this was as good a time as any to ask her, Arya wonders aloud.

“How did you first know anyway?”

Sansa gives her a look that’s half withering. Arya laughs, maybe it was a stupid question.

“How did you know you were straight?”

Arya shrugs, kicking her feet, the crate she’s sitting on is large enough that they dangle.

“I don’t know. Contrary to popular opinion, I’ve always liked boys. I’ve never fawned or made a fool of myself around them because I never thought they deserved that much extra thought. I still remember Mum fretting, wondering when I would start doing my hair and going out all the time like I was supposed to.“

Arya’s stomach drops again. She’d never told Sansa why Mum’s opinions on that specific topic was such a sore spot for her.

Sansa smiles.

“I’m not sure even Mum would know what to make of you spending so much time with the lifeguard here.”

Arya feels her neck turn pink. Sansa nods knowingly.

“Even back then I knew. You were always surrounded by little boys, but you treated him different than you treated them.”

“That’s different,” she insists, “I do like Gendry, but he’s my friend first. We’ve been friends for a long time...and a lot has happened since we’ve seen each other last time.”

Sansa nods.

“A lot has happened. I guess that’s one of the good things about camp. Gives you time to relax and reflect, remember what’s actually important.”

Arya had never thought about it like that, but it was the truth. Most children at camp didn’t know anyone else, they came without siblings or family friends, unlike Arya who always had a few people she knew here. They could be whoever they wanted to be for the summer.

Morning activities are over after that, so Arya and Sansa walk to the mess hall for lunch.

Lunch also means mail call, and Sansa squeals when they’ve got a letter from Robb, tearing it open before Arya can read a single word,

“He says work is going fine, though they’re still undoing so much of the mess Robert left us in,” Sansa starts, “He says the dogs are doing well too.”

Arya grins. Several years before, one of their father’s friends had a litter of puppies, one for each of Arya and her siblings, and Jon as well to have one. The enormous fluffy malamute mixes had run free on the Stark’s, frolicking in the snow come each winter. Lady had died early, and Nymeria had run away, but Arya still loved watching them all the others run about.

“He says Ghost misses Jon dearly, and lets us know he hasn’t heard from him either.”

Sansa bites her lip at the next lines.

“He also says he feels a million years old going into work every day...and tells us he wants to hear every single detail so he can pretend he got to come here this summer too.”

Arya frowns at this. It’s not fair that Robb had to grow up so fast just because he was the oldest, and the only one who could be legally responsible for the rest of them. She didn’t think her and Sansa were too much stress on him, but between Bran’s medical appointments and therapy and keeping Rickon in school and from actually running wild, she understands how it could wear him down.

Speaking of Rickon, after lunch is finished, Brienne approaches Arya.

“Can you come with me for a few minutes? It’s nothing serious, I was just hoping for your assistance.”

She leads Arya away, and as soon as they turn up the hill, she realizes they're going towards the infirmary. Gods know she spent enough time there as a camper, covered in bumps and bruises.

“Rickon got into a fight with another boy on the sports field when his cabin and one of the girls cabin’s were playing kickball. Rather than immediately punish the both of them for fighting, I was hoping you could get the story out of your brother before I make my decision.”

Arya sighs deeply. This is a role she often plays at home.

When she enters, she expects far worse than what she sees. Rickon’s hair is a mess and he has a splint on one wrist and a couple of scrapes on one cheek.

“How’s the other one look?” Arya asks, sitting down beside him.

Rickon’s silent. It’s a strange look on him. From faraway an unfamiliar person might even expect an angelic child with his red curls. His siblings knew better, and had resisted for years letting him off easy just because, at thirteen, he was the youngest of them.

“We were just talking about the zombie game at the end of session. I was telling how you all always talked about how they picked one person to be the zombie and try and infect the others. One of them started laughing and saying there wouldn’t even be a contest being that we had a real zombie here already.”

Arya must look confused, so he continues.

“Couple of the guys have been making fun of the other cabin’s CIT since we got here. The girl with the scarred face?”

Arya’s heart sinks.

“So you punched him?”

Rickon nods, his head still downcast. Arya sighs.

“Rickon,” she starts, “I’m not angry at you for defending someone being teased...but you can’t just punch people. Tell a counselor, someone who has actual power to punish that person who’s being mean.”

She ruffles his curls.

“But I will tell Brienne what happened and that both of you need be put on KP for the rest of session, but that she should keep an open ear out for anyone else bullying Shireen.”

Rickon nods, knowing that’s fair. And Arya pats his hair again. A week’s worth of emptying trash and doing dishes is worth it for standing up to a bully.

Saturdays are a different sort of day off. There are fewer cabin activities on weekends. Instead there are campfire breakfasts, beach parties, nature hikes and camp-wide tournaments. Tomorrow, Arya and Ygritte are set to be leading a trail ride through part of Mistwood, so Arya plans to spend her day off relaxing as much as possible.

Which is why she has to be convinced when Gendry tries to convince her to go on a short hike.

“I already had Hot Pie do us up a couple of sack lunches. I found something last year that I wanted to show you!”

And in the end, a hike is hardly the worst way to spend a free day.

Arya loves the forest, the places where the trees and wild things rule. There are cedars and hemlocks and tall, tall redwoods.

They��ve only been on the trail maybe twenty minutes when Arya spots a weirwood.

“I didn’t know these grow this far south!” she exclaims, examining the blood red sap dripping from it’s ancient face. She’s never spoken too much of her affinity for her father’s faith, the faith of her home in the north.

“There’s not a lot of them, but there are some,” Gendry tells her, “One year after you left, the counselor sent us on a scavenger hunt to find as many of them as we could when he took us on a nature hike.”

Further into the woods, the morning fog still lingers, telling Arya they must be closer to the coast than she had thought.

Eventually, they reach the edge of a gorge, before a sheer drop into a stream below. The ground smooths out into rock.

“What am I looking for?”

Gendry shushes her, sitting cross-legged on the ground pointing to a spot across the gorge where the ground slopes down into rock along the edge of the creek. Arya sits beside him, somewhat reluctantly.

They’ve been sitting for maybe half an hour, They’ve both opened Hot Pie’s lunches, peanut butter and jelly with apples, and munch on them quietly.

It’s close to noon when there’s movement below in the rock. The whole of Mistwood is full of caves, though counselors have never let the campers explore as much as they would have liked, citing the potential for there to be wild animals living in the caves.

“Oh!” Arya exclaims when the movement is revealed to be a wolf, huge and dark gray, leaving the cave to drink from the stream, blinking up at the sky with his huge blue eyes.

“I didn’t know wolves lived in the Stormlands, or anywhere in the south, for that matter” she says.

“There have been rumours of wolves in the woods here for generations. There’s a story about a northern girl who came here in the old days to marry a lover, and not only survived, but, thrived despite that old bit of advice that northerners don’t do well south of the Neck,”

Arya smiles and snorts. Advice like that always sounded ridiculously old fashioned to her, not to mention that so much of the Neck had been drained years ago for development, aside from some bits protected by the parks and forest services. Without it, defining the line between north and south was much more difficult.

“They called her the Wolf Queen, and it seems like that’s where they assumed the stories came from, until about five years ago, some wildlife biology guys working out here found this pack.”

They sit and watch the wolf until he returns to his den. Wolves come out to hunt at dusk usually, this is like the middle of the night for her. Arya finishes up her sandwich, licks her fingers and rolls the trash up to tuck in her pocket. She’s spread her hoodie on the ground and is laying on her stomach, gazing across the gorge.

The day is pleasant, not too hot, and with no one else around, Arya finds herself feeling comfortable, maybe a bit too much. Gendry’s sitting with his back against a tree, and she crooks her head over her shoulder looking at him.

Softly, her lips open and her words tumble out.

“Last year, right before I turned sixteen, Mum and Bran were in an accident. A drunk driver went over the median and hit the car head on.”

Her words slow, and she ducks her head back against the rock, so she can’t see Gendry’s face.

“Bran was thrown from the wreckage, he collided against a metal railing on the shoulder. Fractured his spine. Pretty low down, the doctors kept saying he was really lucky, and how much worse it could have been. Great joy that was to a boy who had just found out he would probably never walk again…”

Arya cringes, remembering the conversations with the doctors and physical therapists, how they had described that with therapy, Bran would regain independent control of almost all of his bodily functions and other ADLs. There were all sorts of things in that conversation she hadn’t wanted to ever have to consider about her little brother, but now had to, they all had to now…

“Mum was dead on the scene.”

Arya feels tears prick at her eyes, and she wipes them away. She’s not looking at Gendry, doesn’t have to. She can imagine his face contorting.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

Arya feels warmth beside her, and turns her head enough to see Gendry stretched on the rock beside her, face up.

“How are- are you- are you all still living at home?”

Arya’s stomach flips when she realizes what he’s talking about.

“Robb had already turned eighteen. He was already interning at Dad’s company, so he was able to petition to become our legal guardian.”

Arya cringes again, thinking of the mess Robb and Mum said that Robert Baratheon left the company in after Dad’s death.

“Jon joined the air force as soon as he turned of age so we would get familial benefits from it.”

Gendry lays on his back, his breathing even, as he thinks on her words.

“I can remember everything from when my mum died,” he admits, “I was eight. I remember walking home from playing football at the park after school and there were people outside the flat, and a policeman told me to gather my things in a bin bag and come with him.”

Arya winces. She remembers Gendry telling her about the bin bags when they were younger, how it was all he had to move his clothes and school things and toys from place to place.

“It wasn’t until even three months later that I even learned what happened. That her neighbor had seen her collapse while watering the yard and called the ambulance. She’d died of a brain aneurysm, no one could have done anything.”

Arya rolls on one side to watch his face. The sun shines off his still fairly pale face.

“Do you-” she starts off, stuttering, “Do you constantly remember the last thing you said to her?”

Gendry nods.

“That morning before school, I complained we were out of my favorite cereal. Then I left for the bus.”

It’s petty, she thinks, a petty and childish set of last words. She still thinks hers were far worse.

“You turned eighteen in May,” she changes the subject, “Is your current foster dad kicking you out?”

Gendry smiles, genuinely.

“No. Mr. Davos was the one who impressed on me how bad the outcomes often are for kids who just age out of foster care instead of being adopted. He hounds me all the time, makes sure I stay in school. No one ever really did that before.”

Arya thinks. She knows a lot of the charitable work Mum had organized with the church and for PR events at the company had involved foster children. She’d never gotten involved, maybe she should have.

“He’s been wonderful to me...these three years were more than I had ever thought I would get as a kid. And I can’t imagine how those three years have been for Shireen…”

His voice trails off, and Arya thinks it’s a good enough time to bring it up.

“Rickon got into a fight the other day, apparently some of the kids have started telling Shireen she has to play the camp zombie.”

Gendry’s jaw sets. It is remarkable, Arya thinks, that his anger is so much quieter than it used to be.

“She told me last night that some of the girls have taken to calling her the Bitch.”

Arya’s shocked.

“Because-”

“Because her burns make her look like the Hound.”

Arya’s stomach twists again.

“I still can’t believe he let that name catch on.”

Her voice is quieter when she continues.

“They are burns then? I wasn’t sure.”

Gendry inhales roughly.

“Yes, they are burns. What happened to her, her story...it’s very different than mine, but it’s worse. I won’t tell you the rest of the story, I-”

His gaze moves from her face to his feet.

“It’s not my story to tell. If she’s with us one of these days, and tells me it’s okay, I can tell you, but not otherwise.”

Arya nods in agreement. The noontime sun has begun to wane, and the afternoon breeze begins to drift in from the sea of Dorne and makes the air more comfortable.

She turns her head over her shoulder again, and smiles.

“Thank you for showing me the wolves...It’s getting a little late though,” she says, “We should be getting back to camp.”

Gendry nods, pulling himself into a sitting position before standing. He offers Arya his hand to pull her to her own feet.

They hold hands the entire hike back to camp. Gendry runs his thumb along the inside of Arya’s wrist, and she hopes he can’t feel how much her heart is thrumming.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #summer camp au #fic

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ericsonclan · 4 years

Text

The Graveyard

Summary: Prisha meets Willy and learns a bit about the backstory of the Ericson kids.

Read on A03:

It was her first time out this early in the morning. Prisha stood in the front yard of Ericson’s School for Troubled Youth, surveying the grounds. Ever since she’d gotten here, she’d only spent a few moments at a time outside, dropping by to pick up food and then withdrawing back to her room. It was strange spending so much of each day indoors. She didn’t like it.

She didn’t like a lot of things these days. Prisha glance down, looking at the sling that cradled her left arm. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that despite the bandages it would never truly heal. It was useless now, a growth that would flap against her side as she tried to make her way through life one-handed. Part of her was terrified she couldn’t do it, couldn’t survive if that was her new lot in life. A bigger part of her pushed down those thoughts, since there wasn’t space for them. She was too busy surviving. In that sense, nothing had changed. As ever, she took things one day at a time. That was the only way to keep living.

Prisha made her way across the yard, looking over all the different aspects of the school. It certainly was a well-fortified place. The walls were strong, the gates reinforced, and they always had someone on watch. Louis waved to her from the watch tower as she strolled by. Prisha raised her arm in greeting, feeling odd making the gesture. When she’d fist met Louis, Clementine and Violet, she’d assumed she’d never see them again. That was the way with things these days. Every interaction with a stranger could be your last. The only constant if you were lucky enough was your group. She’d expected to stay with Ed, Rita and the others for the long haul. Now they were all dead and she was here. Living with a group she couldn’t make sense of.

Why did they take her in? She’d already proven herself to be utterly useless, needing help with even the simplest tasks. These people already had their hands full too, with children and Violet being badly injured as well. It made no sense to bring her here. She was just another mouth to feed in a world where liabilities could be fatal. Maybe they’d come to their senses and kick her out soon, now that her injuries hadn’t proved fatal. She wouldn’t blame them for it. She already owed them her life; how could she demand more? If that happened, she’d simply have to find a way to make it on her own. Again. Somehow.

As she made her way through the front yard, Prisha noticed a burnt section of the school. She drew closer, examining the structure of the ruins. Whatever had happened here must have resulted in a huge fire. An entire section of the school had burnt down, bricks scattered across the yard. To salvage the area was clearly beyond anyone’s current capabilities. They’d need to lay the bricks by hand, and there was no need for that given the multitude of available buildings on the campus. This place was truly immense.

Rounding the corner, something new caught Prisha’s eye. Grave markers. To be able to do such a thing, burying your dead… Prisha envied them. But at the same time, she recognized the immeasurable loss that each of those markers represented. There were eight in total, a far smaller number than the children this school must have initially held. Prisha wondered which death had led them to lay the first marker, and when the last one had been made. There was a boy standing by the graves. He looked to be in his early teens. From what she’d been told, this must be Willy, the other kid who had helped carry her back to the school. She should thank him. Now didn’t seem like the appropriate time though. He was crouching in front of one of the graves, speaking animatedly as he held up some sort of contraption. She should probably just go.

As she turned to leave though, Prisha tripped over one of the loose bricks.

The boy spun around, looking at her with wide eyes.

Prisha froze in place, an apologetic wince on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,”

“No, that’s OK,” the boy responded, tucking the item he’d been displaying at the grave behind his back. “You’re Prisha, right?”

“Yes. And you’re Willy?”

The boy nodded.

“I heard you were one of the people who saved my life. Thank you,”

Willy shrugged. “I didn’t really do much. Violet carried you most of the way back herself. I just made sure she didn’t drop you and that your arms and legs didn’t get caught on stuff,”

“Still, it was an important contribution. I appreciate it,” Prisha looked towards the graves. “May I ask who’d buried here? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,”

“No, it’s OK,” Willy scooted around so he was facing the markers once more. “Those two are for Minnie and Sophie. They were twins, Tenn’s sisters. He died too, but only after we figured out that Minnie was actually alive and killed Sophie. But then she died for real and so did Tenn. Brody’s over there, and Marlon. He killed her because she told Clem about what really happened with the twins, then A.J. shot him ‘cause he thought he was a monster. That one was made years ago when a bunch of kids died all at once. And that one’s for Miss Martin, the old school nurse. She’s actually buried over by the greenhouse, but we made this one for her after we found her body,”

“Wow, that’s… a lot. It must have been hard, losing them over the years,”

“Well, Ms. Martin’s and the group graves have been here, a while, but the rest was made…’ Willy thought for a minute. “A year and a half ago. The twins’ ones we made two and a half years ago, but a year and a half ago is when Minnie actually died,”

God. All those graves at the same time? Prisha looked at them, examining the lettering of each marker. They all looked fresh. The group must maintain them well. That meant most of this graveyard was formed years after the world fell apart, after the kids had known each other a long time. These wounds were far fresher than she thought. Wounds… what if… Prisha looked up. “Violet’s eyes, they were…”

“Damaged in the explosion,” Willy looked down at the ground. “I didn’t think any of us would be inside when it went off,”

“You rigged the explosion?”

Willy nodded. “To get rid of the Delta. They were trying to kidnap everybody. They got Omar, Aasim and Violet. But we got them back. I wanted to make sure they could never ever come back again. So I made a bomb and we put it in the boiler of their ship. We planned to get everyone off before they started the engine, but Violet was trying to help Minnie and-” Willy’s voice cracked a bit as he recalled the memory. “It went off with them still inside,”

Prisha noticed the change in his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you to dredge up so many painful memories,”

“Naw, it’s OK. It’s good to know who you’re staying with, right?”

Prisha gave a wry smile. “I suppose so,” She paused. “Wait, you said that Minnie turned out to be the one who killed Sophie. Did Violet know that when she stayed onboard to help her? Is that when she died?”

“No, she died later, on the bridge. And Violet knew then, but…” Willy’s sentence lapsed as he tried to find the right words. “Minnie used to be Violet’s girlfriend. So she didn’t want to give up on her, no matter what,”

This story had so many twists and turns to it. Prisha didn’t feel like she had a grasp on it at all, but she was sure of one thing: these kids had been to hell and back. They were survivors in the purest sense of the word. There was one more question that was nagging at Prisha. She wasn’t sure if she should press any further. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. “I noticed you left one of the graves out. It was the one you were talking to a minute ago. If it’s not too much, could you tell me who it belongs to?”

Willy’s eyes fell. With that one question, she’d made him sadder than he was recounting any of the horrors he’d already mentioned. But he didn’t stay silent. “That one belongs to Mitch,”

“Was he… your brother?”

“Might as well have been,” Willy sniffed, and Prisha could tell the tears wouldn’t be held back much longer. “He got killed protecting us when the Delta came here. He wouldn’t have let them take anyone, not while he was alive to fight,”

“He sounds incredibly brave,”

“He was. He taught me everything: how to hunt, how to carve weapons… everything about bombs too. How to make ‘em and how to set ‘em off. He made a bomb to scare off the raiders. Without it, we probably all would’ve been taken that night,”

“Is that what you have there?” Prisha gestured behind his back. “A bomb?”

Willy nodded, bringing it forward. “I wanted to show him my latest design. I’ve been practicing making them in case we need them again if anybody else attacks. It’s not as fun making them anymore without him around though… and I don’t want to have too many around. I can’t have anyone else get hurt by one,”

“Can I see?” Prisha asked, crouching down in front of him.

Willy nodded, pushing it forward.

Prisha examined it thoughtfully. A crude design, but very effective. “I notice you’ve compartmentalized the different elements to keep them all separate until activation. That’s smart. They’ll be perfectly stable in storage,”

“You know about making bombs?” Willy asked, eyes wide.

“I know the theory, though I’ve never had practical experience in making one. It’s an important skill though, crucial when it comes to defending a place as large as this school,”

“Exactly! I figure if I make enough of them, then if we ever have anyone else lurking around the school, bang! We take ‘em out before they even get inside!” He looked up at Prisha, suddenly growing somewhat shy. “Do you wanna… see the rest of them? I have lots of different designs. They’re in one of the empty classrooms of the old school buildings,”

“I’d love that,” Prisha smiled warmly. “I’m sure I could learn a lot from you,”

“Then follow me!” Willy exclaimed, jumping up and beginning to run back towards the front yard. “It’s right around that corner!”

“I’ll be right there!” Prisha called after him. He’d already disappeared from her line of sight. She looked back toward the markers. To have lost so many of their own to outsiders and yet to open their home to one? These kids were odd. Her last group had been open and caring, but they’d had nothing to lose but each other. They had to band together to survive, to find food and shelter each and every night. This group had everything: food, water, medicine, a safe location… and they shared it so openly with her. It left her flabbergasted.

Talking with Willy though, seeing how open he was to share his story with her and how ready he was to let her further into his life… maybe that’s just how they were. She’d thought that her last group had been the only good people left in the world, but this group’s kindness was unparalleled. Even though it’d be ridiculous to expect it, she hoped she could stay. Maybe with time she’d adapt to this new life with one arm and prove herself useful again. She really hoped that could be the case.

“You coming?” Willy’s voice rang out from the yard.

“Yes, sorry! I’m right behind you!” Prisha rose to her feet, brushing the dead grass of her legs with her good hand. She liked it here. She hoped she could stay. One day at a time though. One day at a time.

#prisha twdg #wily twdg #twdg #telltale the walking dead #twdgs4 #grief #loss #fanfic

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seeaddywrite · 5 years

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MOAR Michael and Isobel, please!

i legit spent five minutes wondering what you meant by more, because i’d totally forgotten that isobel & michael got some quality time together in the fic i wrote where michael was ‘dying.’ so, here you go! i hope this is what you wanted.

When Michael’s got Noah secured in his lab, surrounded by nullifying powder he’d repurposed from the batch used to trap him and Max just a few days prior, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Restless energy burns under his skin, the need to do something, anything, impossible to ignore. But the other man is unconscious, and will likely remain so for a while as Liz’s antidote does its work. Thus, Michael knows he’s not getting any answers that night, which only increases the desperation to act. He’s too late to save the woman in the cell at Cauffield – his mother, with those desolate, pain-filled eyes and the simple, grief-soaked words she’d managed to push through to him. I love you, my son. Now run.

The words have replayed over and over in Michael’s head, drowning out all of the usual noise and chaos until he wants to scream. He wants it all to stop, wants to drown the images and the pain out with as much whiskey and acetone as his body can take. But Maria’s avoiding him, so the Wild Pony is off limits, and his own stash of booze ran dry when Alex came back to town.

Alex. Michael flinches away from the thought of the other man; he’s not stable enough to even begin parsing everything that had passed between them today. It’s too much, on top of everything else, and Michael’s afraid his tentative calm would shatter if he even tried. So drinking’s out, drowning out the noise in his head with great sex is out, and going to Max is definitely fucking out – he’s understands why his brother did what he did, but there’s something about having a gun pointed at his head that makes him leery of going back. Even if picking a fight with Max has been one of his favorite distractions for a decade.

That leaves one other person, and Michael knows he shouldn’t do it. Isobel has enough on her plate – she’s suffering, too, in trying to deal with Noah’s betrayal and the fact that her bodily autonomy had been stripped from her. She’s been living a lie for years, and she needs time and space to recover from it. And the last thing she needs, Michael is certain, is him showing up at her door right now.

But beyond Max, Isobel, Alex, and Maria, Michael’s got no one. Without them, he’s so fucking alone that he feels like he could throw his head back and scream without anyone noticing – he could wind up dead at the bottom of a gorge and no one would even care, aside from maybe lamenting his wasted potential. And if there’s one thing Michael can’t stand, it’s total isolation; he needs people, needs his family, even if he hates to admit it.

So he winds up at Isobel’s, on foot, a few hours later. He lingers on the porch, trying to figure out if he’ll be welcome or not - there are plenty of reasons for Isobel to ask him to leave, after all, if she even talks to him. Max would’ve called her by now, warned her that Michael’s lost his damn mind and given the man she wants dead the means to save himself. She’ll know that Michael has Noah trussed up in his lab, and has no intention of allowing anyone to harm him until he gets the answers he’s looking for – and Michael doesn’t know if she’ll forgive him. God knows she has all the right in the world to want the man who betrayed her dead, after all. But Michael can’t give her that, just like he can’t get the sight of his mother’s soft smile out of his head. Watching another of their people die, even if he is a psychopath, isn’t something Michael is prepared for. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to pick up the pieces afterward, this time.

“Are you planning on brooding out there in the cold all night, or are you coming inside?” Isobel’s voice is sharp, and Michael flinches in surprise. He looks up at her and something inside of him crumbles. She’s wearing a pair of sweats too long and wide to be her own. and a long t-shirt he thinks he recognizes from his own closet. He scrutinizes it for a moment, and yep, there’s the oil stain from Mrs. Carrerra’s old Buick on the hem. The sweats are probably Max’s; Isobel has never taken to loneliness very well, and clings unrepentantly to her brothers in times of crisis. Michael’s always envied her the ability to reach out and take the affection she needs – he’s never been able to ask, no matter how much he wanted to.

Michael opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again, and just follows Isobel through the porch doors and into the living room she’d designed for her and Noah to share when they first moved in. He sits down on the arm of the couch, shoulders hunched, while she takes over the cushions and wraps a blanket around herself. They sit in silence for a moment – until Isobel breaks. Because even in the midst of all this tragedy, she isn’t good at silence. “I was trying to call you all day,” she tells him, expression pinched. “Not just to tell you about Noah. I could feel you.” There’s a moment of hesitation, and she swallows, looking away fro him. Michael frowns, because Isobel is never shy, or afraid to say what’s on her mind. “I can still feel you. And you’re breaking my heart, so will you just get over here and let me hug you already?”

The chuckle that startles from him is short and strangled, but more than he’s managed since watching Cauffield go up in flames. He lifts his gaze from his knees to look at Isobel, who’s watching him expectantly with her arms spread wide. She’s the best of them at hiding how she’s feeling, Michael knows – her powers don’t go haywire, and she’s good at wearing masks in public. For Isobel, her entire life is a costume, and always has been, but now, the props have begun to come up missing, and the theater is burning down around her. Yet here she is, holding out her arms to Michael, despite what he’s done.

“Did Max –”

“If you’re about to bring up the fact that you have my murdering soon-to-be ex-husband tied up somewhere, don’t,” Isobel snaps. “I know, okay? But I can’t decide to hug your or hit you for saving him, because there’s some demented part of my subconscious that’s still in love with him.” Her voice cracks, and Michael has never been able to deny Isobel anything when she cries. Their relationship has always been so much simpler than his with Max; Isobel has always been in his corner, has always been a willing hand to hold or partner in crime, and he loves her. It’s why he’d been willing to let her believe him a murderer, rather than know the truth, and why half of his life has been dedicating to keeping her safe and happy.

So Michael slides down into the couch and takes her into his arms, hugging her gently against his chest. The familiar smell of her floral shampoo against his nose relaxes something tense within him, and he buries his face in the top of her head, trying to stop himself from dissolving into tears alongside her.

They stay like that for longer than Michael can keep track of time, until Isobel lifts her tear-stained face and wipes away the wetness on her cheeks determinedly. “No,” she says firmly, and Michael’s pretty sure she’s talking to herself more than him. “I am done crying over that son of a bitch. He doesn’t deserve it.” Clear green eyes focus on Michael, narrowing slightly. “And don’t think this gets you out of telling me what the hell you’re thinking, giving him his powers back. I am mad at you. He wore me around like a cheap suit and used my hands to –” She trails off, voice wavering again, but plows on determinedly, as Isobel always does. “But I’m choosing to believe that you have a good reason. And Max is, too, by the way. He’s been beating himself up for pulling that gun since he let you go.”

Michael swallows, and addresses the easiest of those topics first. “Max was never going to shoot me,” he says certainly. “And it’s not like I don’t get it.” Unleashing a mind-warping serial killer on the town is definitely worth a gun, even if in reality, it hit Michael like a blow in the chest that his brother really believed that he would ever let him loose, knowing what he’s done.

“Then why’d you do it?” Isobel asks, and her voice is unexpectedly gentle. He glances up at her, surprised by the change in attitude, and finds a faraway quality in her eyes that he recognizes. She’s in his head, or at least picking up on the emotions he knows he’s bound to be broadcasting. Part of him flinches away from the intimacy of such a thing; he doesn’t want anyone in his head, not even Isobel. But he knows he won’t be able to say the words aloud, or get through any succinct explanation of the day’s events without losing his mind – and there are way too many breakables in Michael’s house for him to let go like that.

“Iz,” he tries, but she’s already shaking her head, and leaning back in to rest her head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, taking one of his work-roughened hands between both of her soft ones. It’s not the scarred one, thank God, because Michael doesn’t know if he can handle thinking of that particular tragedy right now – he’s got enough circulating in his brain. Even now, the gentleness with which Isobel handles him threatens to break all of the walls he’s erected around today’s experiences, and the lump in his throat is rapidly growing past the point where it can be denied. “Whatever it is, Michael, I’m right here. You don’t have to tell me. Just let me in.”

The images that have been threatening to overwhelm him all day won’t be denied. He breaks her grip on his hand and grips her wrist instead, needing the anchor as the pain and horror and shock of the day wash over him in a wave, decimating his walls like an angry tsunami. He can feel her with him as he relives it all, from Alex’s visit to his trailer to the moment he grasped his mother’s hand in the hell-hole, and her body trembles where it’s slumped against his somewhere in the midst of the memories. Michael wants to stop, to withdraw and check on her, but as always, he’s powerless against the noise in his head. The memories keep playing – Michael’s determination to stay with that woman, no matter what his fate, Alex’s insistence that he’s family, that he loves him – and finally, that whisper in his head. I love you, my son. Now run. And then he’s watching the building burn in front of him, his body shaking, and the desolation and anger he felt then swamps him again, spilling into Isobel.

Michael comes back to himself slowly, and finds that now, he’s half horizontal on the couch, his jean-clad legs splayed in front of him on the cushions while his entire torso is being held up by Isobel’s body. Her arms around around his neck, and she’s crying into his hair, sobbing apologies and her own fury as she tries to comfort him. It helps, strangely, to know that someone else is morning his mother as he is – sharing the load lightens it, though Michael knows better than to think it’s anywhere enough.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, surprised to find his voice hoarse. “You didn’t need to –”

“Shut up,” Isobel tells him, sniffling. “I’ll come with you, tomorrow. To talk to Noah. He might -” she makes a disgusted face, trying to mop the wetness from her face with her sleeve. It doesn’t mask her emotional turmoil, but Isobel doesn’t do vulnerable well. That’s something Michael’s always understood about her. “He might be willing to talk to me. And if he’s not, I’ll get in his head and I’ll make him give you the answers you want. And if he knew about that place, I really will be a murderer.”

For some reason, hearing Isobel voice the same thoughts Michael has had himself shocks him, and he shakes his head vehemently. “No, Iz. You’re no killer. And I don’t – I don’t think I can –”

Isobel looks at him thoughtfully, and runs a shaking hand over his hair. “You don’t want anyone else to die,” she summarizes, exhaling loudly. “I don’t know what other options we have, Michael, but I don’t think either of us is up for trying to figure it out tonight.” She glances around the room, and grabs the blanket behind her to cover them both with it. It’s probably an awkward position for her, with Michael leaning so heavily on her thin frame, but she doesn’t make any effort to move him. Again, he’s struck with how much he loves Isobel -he may never have felt like he belonged on earth when he wasn’t with Alex, but he’s never questioned his place in his sister’s life, or her place in his. And that, he realizes, is something he can’t let himself take for granted anymore.

“Will you stay here tonight?” she asks finally, and Michael’s never been so grateful for a subject change in his life. He catches a breath – he’s been holding it, he realizes belatedly – and nods immediately. He’s not sure if she’s making the offer because she can tell that the idea of being alone makes him want to yank his hair out, or because she genuinely doesn’t want to suffer by herself, either, but Michael doesn’t think it matters. In all reality, it’s probably a combination of both, and that’s best. That way, they can look after each other.

“Great,” Isobel says, and there’s a glint of mischief in her tone that surprises Michael. He turns his head to look at her, warily, trying to figure out what she’s playing at. “Then you can tell me all about Alex Manes, and why I had no idea that you’re in love with him.”

Michael drops his head against the couch and groans, borderline hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat. And, god help him, he tells her everything, letting her share the last of his secrets with him. As midnight turns to early morning, and the sun begins to peek over the desert horizon, Michael finally feels himself begin to relax, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, they’re going to make it through this. Both of them.

#roswellnm fanfiction #isobel evans & michael guerin #family fic #post 1X12 #gen prompts #my fic #gen fic

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