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viilpstick · 7 months

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╰┈➤ 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: I sense there's something in the wind, that feels like tragedy's at hand and though she'd like to stand by her father's side and be an obedient daughter, she couldn't help to believe the worst was coming. And when it did, it's all going to be twisted upside down.

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: Monique D'automne, Twisted Wonderland oc

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Mentions of kidnapping, angst (background and personality), phobia of being alone (personality), a bit of oc x cannon

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Angst (on the background and personality), some fluff and crackfic in the (relationships)

𝒂/𝒏: Lore change hehe, I feel like it is for the best, I think she was being too much of a Mary Sue.

"I don't know but I feel there's something behind this whole story, feels like they are always trying to hide it from me. And it seems wrong to me. Very wrong."

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅: She knows being disobedient will get her to the wrong path… But, what if she needs to be disobedient to learn the truth? Try as she may, it curiosity doesn't last.

Monique had always grown up in a household that discouraged adventurousness and curiosity. She was constantly reminded by her father, Frainkey D'automne, an ex-doctor and pharmaceutical specialist who was now 56 years old, that patience was her most valuable virtue. He often questioned why she would consider being ungrateful enough to leave him, leaving an old man like him to face the prospect of dying alone. Monique never had the chance to meet her mother, and as a result, she believed that her life was destined to remain confined within the four walls of their home. There was no one to confide in about her father's controlling tendencies, and she wondered why, at the age of 17, she couldn't at least attempt to break free from her father's grasp.

Her desire for independence and a life beyond the restrictive boundaries set by her father led her to a fateful moment when a heated argument erupted between them. Most would dismiss it as just another teenage tantrum, but for Monique, it was a desperate cry for freedom. One day, in a bold and rebellious move, she clandestinely slipped a mysterious herb into her father's evening tea, hoping it would induce a deep slumber and buy her enough time to escape.

As she runaway from her home, not that this is the first time, and who knows if he will find her? She lays her head in a abandoned house metal railings, falling sleep hugging her scarf.

Awakening in the next morning, she was not prepared for what she found. The reality that greeted her was far more chilling than her worst nightmare. Instead of the safety of her own bed, she found herself in a dimly lit, confined space, her breathing labored and her heart pounding with terror. She wasn't in her room; she wasn't even in their house. Monique realized with a shudder that she had not expected to wake up in a coffin, her worst fears becoming an eerie, surreal truth.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚: Now, she has a chance to live her life, she's adventurous more than ever! But… She doesn't want to be fully alone. Where will her actions lead herself then?

Monique is a young woman who, despite growing up in a restrictive environment, harbors a deep-seated desire for independence. Her decision to drug her father's tea and escape her home demonstrates her courage and determination to break free from the confines of her sheltered life.

Whatsoever, Monique becomes someone who needs to rely in others, specially for never learning how to life in her own and while she longs for independence. That generated a fear of being alone, that's one of the reasons why she mostly keeps Grim closer to her everytime.

Monique's actions also suggest a level of logical side, specially when she slips the herbs for her father to sleep more than once. She did felt conflicted about leaving him behind, knowing that he would face the prospect of loneliness. This shows that she possesses a caring and compassionate side, even deciding to do it anyway.

Monique, despite her upbringing that emphasized patience as a virtue, had always been the antithesis of that advice. Impatience coursed through her veins, manifesting in various aspects of her life. With so long waiting, Monique is someone very impatient.

As well determined, Once Monique realizes the gravity of her situation, her determination to survive this tought school, where everyone seems to have enough problems to simply overblot. She's not one to give up easily, even when confronted with the darkest of situations. In the face of the unknown, Monique's inquisitive nature pushes her to explore her surroundings and uncover the mystery of her predicament. Her desire to seek answers and understand her circumstances drives her actions.

The brown haired girl's vulnerability is exposed when she faces the terrifying reality of being alone in another world. This vulnerability humanizes her character and makes her journey all the more compelling.

The complex side of Monique's character is rich and multi-dimensional, with a blend of strengths, weaknesses, and conflicting emotions. Her journey from a sheltered, controlled life to a perilous and unexpected situation adds depth to her character, making her a compelling and relatable protagonist.

In summary, Monique is a someone who longs for independence and takes drastic measures to escape her restrictive environment. However, she also shows empathy and compassion for others, indicating a caring side. Despite her impatience, she is determined and curious, seeking answers and exploring her surroundings. Her vulnerability humanizes her character, and her journey adds depth to her complex personality.

𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆: In their enthusiastic crowd, she never stood up in as someone else, but did her looks showed how unique she is, oh, they did.

Monique is a young woman with dark brown with some dark red streaks in her hair. Her skin is just as soft as cloth's material, and between pale skin to beige. Her eyes are in a beautiful shade of grey.

For her body is in a pear body, yet she still pretty much slim, with some scars along it's way (when Monique was a kid, she was far from careful).

𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭: Drop-waist flapper dress with fringe or lace details, her dress would lean towards dark, like deep burgundy, black but with a dark purple, cyan and yellow.

Accentuate her Gothic style, she might adorn herself with Victorian-inspired jewelry, such as ornate chokers, cameo brooches, and dark gemstones like amethyst or onyx. Gloves, typically short, could be made of white lace.

Mary Jane style shoes with a chunky heel. And a long pantyhose, with dark cyan shades of dark purple and a bright yellow.

The make up is pretty much Vil's style but a bit more dramatic and melancholic with smokey eyes and a dark red lipstick.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 (𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔): She always wanted a Prince Charming, but the idea of having an enchanted king, never crossed her mind, for he may be the one.

Cater Diamond: Identical crisis besties o(>ω<)o /hj Monique and Cater were the type of people who immediately clicked in. Cater tried to push Monique away, afraid that she would find out he never had a great actual friend. But, oh wow, SURPRISE! So, did Monique. They constantly go out as the biggest besties at the whole school, Cater for once don't publish too much of her, but when he did, a famous someone had his attention caught.

Epel Felmier: Well, this is now he son. Taking care of him pretty much like her kid, whatsoever, Epel see that Monique is just really being kind and not have bad intentions of treating him like an actual toddler. Specially, when they first met, Monique knew Epel was a boy, and never called him cute or pretty, so she have that free pass.

Silver: Silver taught how Monique could be more independent, thanks to Silver, Monique know how to do basic tasks she would find trouble since her father never taught her. In exchange, Monique makes herbs and teas to make Silver slightly more awake in class and not electric with caffeine.

Vil Schoenheit: Monique doesn't perceive herself as conventionally attractive; quite the opposite, in fact. Standing out in a crowd was never her forte, so she chose to distinguish herself through her unique designs. What truly caught Vil's attention was Monique's distinctive style, which stood out amidst the sea of ordinary individuals. It was as if she radiated an inexplicable charm that mesmerized him. Monique herself couldn't quite fathom why Vil wanted to be in her company, especially given their initial encounter, went with him thinking her sense of fashion was super poor.

Crewel Divus: He adopted her. That's it. Monique is someone who love to design, and during one class, she couldn't figure it out how to work, specially because she doesn't have magic, and so, Divus let her sit on his side awhile drawing, when his head turned to her; She simple had drawn the most amazing piece of clothing for him, he saw a future in her with that design.

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂: As a dearest friend, you may like to join her by her side, where we can gaze into the stars wonder the next step into the future, for it is plain, as anyone can see, she's simply meant to be in here.

Monique is inspired on Sally from "Nightmare before Christmas"

Monique meaning: from Monica; Young woman. Monique is a feminine name of French and Hebrew origin. Monique means "alone" and "unique"

D'automne means from autumn in French

Her style is inspired by the gothic and 20's style

18 years old, born in March 9th

Her height is 168cm/5'6.1ft

Monique's dominant hand is right

Fav. drink + food: Elderflower tea, salad.

Least fav. drink + food: Coffee, mushroom.

Hobbies: Sewing

Pet peeves: Starting fights in the middle of nowhere, math

Likes: Drawing

Talent: Intuition

Best subject: Herbology

Club: Science Club

#💜 ! monique d'automne #💜 ! vil schoenheit #💜 ! rook hunt #💜 ! epel felmier #💜 ! cater diamond #💜 ! silver #💜 ! crewel divus #💜 ! ocs #💜 ! vilnique #💜 ! twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #oc #original character #oc x canon

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annarellix · 9 months

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THE BEACH HUT MURDERS (The Charity Shop Detective Agency Mysteries Book 2) by Peter Boland

My Review: I fall hard for this series when I read The Charity Shop Detective Agency: I loved the solid and well plotted mystery, the quirky characters and the compelling plot. I had high expectations for this book and couldn’t wait to catch with Fiona, Sue and Daisy, the ladies of the Dogs Need Nice Homes, and read about their squabbles with the Cat Alliance. This book is all I loved in the first instalment and something more as the ladies investigates another complex series of murder and use their brain to solve it. I read it in one sitting as I couldn’t stop turning pages as I was having a lot of fun and wanted to know the solution. If you want to read a well plotted and highly entertaining cozy mystery, if you like Richard Osman or Richard Cole novels, go and read this series. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Joffe Books and Books 'n' all Promotions for this digital copy, all opinions are mine

The Book:

It’s almost summer in Southbourne and the ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency are ready for another season of sun, sea and . . . murder.

Amongst the rows of charming brightly painted cabins, an elderly man’s beach hut is set on fire in the middle of the night — while he slept inside. By day, Fiona, Sue and Daisy volunteer at the Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop. But, by night, they investigate crimes. And they’re determined to get to the bottom of this murder. Malcolm Crainey was a bit of an eccentric, but he was harmless really. Who would want to kill him?

The ladies soon uncover a long list of possible suspects. Neighbours who hated Malcolm for refusing to swap huts. Members of the snobby beach hut association who took umbrage with Malcom’s quirky beachcombed cabin decorations. Then another hut is burned down in the dead of night. Thankfully there was no one asleep inside this time. But the pressure is on — can Fiona, Sue and Daisy find the culprit before the beach hut murderer strikes again

THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVES Level-headed Fiona has found a quiet sanctuary volunteering at the local charity shop, Dogs Need Nice Homes. A charity shop that raises money for, well, dogs that need nice homes. And she’s found firm friendship with the strong-willed Partial Sue (she’s ever so partial to a cup of tea) and the kindly and surprisingly tech-savvy Daisy. Together, these ladies, with Simon Le Bon, Fiona’s scruffy-haired terrier cross, investigate murders as the Charity Shop Detective Agency.

THE SETTING The lovely coastal town of Southbourne is, on paper, little more than a small suburb hemmed in by Bournemouth to the west and Christchurch to the north. But it’s home to the prettiest avenues lined with gorgeous Georgian homes which lead to a grass-topped cliff standing guard over a sweeping bay of blond sand, soft as Demerara sugar. Some say it’s also home to the best charity shops in the country. The ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency maintain that Dogs Need Nice Homes — though musty and more than a little cramped — is certainly number one. Well, they definitely help solve the most crimes at least!

ALSO BY PETER BOLAND THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVE AGENCY MYSTERIES Book 1: THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVE AGENCY Book 2: THE BEACH HUT MURDERS

The Author: PETER BOLAND After studying to be an architect, Pete realised he wasn’t very good at it. He liked designing buildings, he just couldn’t make them stand up — a big handicap in an industry that’s partial to keeping things upright. So he became an advertising copywriter, the highlight of which was creating an ad featuring Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman. He then tried his hand at writing his own stories and quickly realised there’s no magic formula. You just have to put one word in front of the other (and keep doing that for about six months). It also helps if you can resist the lure of surfing and drinking beer in a garden chair. The first book in his Charity Shop Detective Agency series will publish in late 2022.

FOLLOW PETER ON: GOODREADS FACEBOOK TWITTER Joffe Books page

#blog tour #Joffe Books #cozy mystery #The Charity Shop Detective Agency Mysteries #Netgalley #review #Books 'n' all Promotions

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spoofymcgee · 1 year

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finally got over my writer's block enough to drop 2.7k words of hurt/comfort uhura/t'pring talking about how pon farr is kind of messed up, actually. enjoy!

(warning: discussions of non consensual situations, specifically in that pon farr isn't something vulcans really get to consent to)

read on ao3

The sofa is soft. Nyota had requested it specifically from the quartermaster, had dragged T’Pring along–nominally to help her pick it out but really just to spend a couple of hours together as Nyota thoroughly vetted every single sofa option available and picked out the one she claimed was best for napping on. She had decided on a plush, low option covered in soft, velvety grey fabric.

T’Pring knows the sofa is soft. She has sat on it nearly every day for the past ten months, has smoothed out the swirls in the fabric more times than she can count.

Despite this, and despite the hand she’s had running over the cushion to her left for the past four minutes, she cannot feel it.

It is a curious sensation, this disconnect from her body. The first time it happened, she was eight and thoroughly overwhelmed by the sensation of having her mind tied to another’s, among the fury of not being allowed to choose her own bondmate and the dehydration borne of her refusal to drink in protest of being ferried out to the sacred sands for the ceremony.

It had seemed like she’d floated out of her body, left it curled up in her bed and gone… elsewhere. Her sister had found her hours later, on the verge of having to be hospitalized, and all she’d gotten for her trouble was a lecture about logic from their mother.

She’d told T’Maia the next time it happened, but her sister had been entirely unsuccessful in convincing their mother to get T’Pring examined by a medical professional, so the episodes had continued well into her adulthood.

Nowadays she has words like ‘dissociation’ and ‘derealization’. She has people who will help her if she asks for it and a therapist she can talk to after the fact.

She doesn’t talk to her mother much anymore.

Right now, though, T’Pring moves her head slowly to find that her other hand is still secured around her mug of tea. She thinks the sensation is uncomfortable. Logically, it should be: the mug is not heatproof and she has been holding it for several minutes. Under normal circumstances, she would have set it down when she got to the couch, but her limbs feel oddly stiff, and she can’t seem to get them to listen to her.

The doors to their quarters slide open and T’Pring jumps, slamming back into her body at startling speed. The tea sloshes over the rim and onto her hand. It burns, and she bites her bottom lip to keep the tears from spilling, which only serves to drive her closer to crying.

“Hey babe,” Nyota says blithely, shucking her jacket to hang it on the rack by the door. “Ugh, you won’t believe what the Lothian diplomats said to the captain today. It wasn’t even his fault this time! Everything he did was textbook perfect according to the packet they sent us. I swear, it’s like they think we won’t notice if–oh, sweetheart.”

Having hung her jacket and slipped off her shoes, Nyota’s come close enough to see the way T’Pring’s hand is reddening around the cup. She drops to her knees in front of the sofa and takes the mug out of her hand gently, setting it on the table and mopping off her hand with the edge of her undershirt sleeve.

“...Thank you,” T’Pring says, barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” Nyota says, getting back to her feet. “I–can you give me five minutes, or is this an immediate kind of situation? Because I literally ran into a yeoman on a coffee run for Sciences on my way back and he was getting Hadrian tea for somebody and–yeah. But if you need me now, I can definitely wait.”

T’Pring sniffs the air and–well, she was raised better than to wrinkle her nose, but the corners of her mouth tighten. Sue her, she’s having a bad day.

“Please go shower,” she says quietly, squeezing Nyota’s fingers. “It can wait a few minutes.”

Nyota squeezes back and nods wordlessly, lifting her hand and brushing a gentle kiss to her knuckles before going.

T’Pring considers staying on the sofa, but–she’s not supposed to sit still when she’s starting to disassociate, so she pulls herself up and carries her mug into the kitchen, spilling it down the drain and focusing on the splash. She should really save it, as it’s organically grown in Kha’lar back on T’Khasi, but she knows she won’t drink it anyway, and it will do no good to let it sit.

She washes the mug, dragging her fingertips over the roughness of the sponge, and then dries it, listening to the rasp of the towel on ceramic.

When she’s done, she goes back to the living room and puts on one of the trashy Earth pop punk songs that Spock has had playing through his head at all hours recently, courtesy of his bondmate. She lets a few strains float through the door between their minds and chases away the joy she feels at the flash of irritation it gets her.

She does simple stretches until Nyota comes back into the living room, wrapped in her softest sweater and fuzzy pajama pants and carrying T’Pring’s favorite blanket. She drops onto the sofa and frowns at T’Pring’s laptop, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Spock has been bothering me with it recently,” T’Pring explains, reaching over to shut it off. “I wanted to return the favor, and besides, it is a good stimulant.”

“It’s one of Jim’s favorites when he’s particularly annoyed,” Nyota says absently. “I’ll have to talk to him about it.” She shakes herself lightly, turning her gaze back to T’Pring. “Not now, though. You wanna sit?”

T’Pring hesitates. “You have had a difficult day, and–”

Nyota rolls her eyes. “And I’m still going to be here to support you. If I needed a raincheck, I would tell you.”

T’Pring nods slowly and crosses the room, sitting next to her and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders when Nyota nudges it into her lap.

“It is about… next month,” she says after a long pause, her eyes trained on the coffee table. A swell of frustration rises in her sternum at the emotion leaking into her voice, and at the fact that she cannot manage to talk clearly about this subject, even with Nyota, who she intends to spend the rest of her life with. That is the problem with cultural taboos.

“With Pon Farr?” Nyota asks, and T’Pring nods. “Baby, I promise, I’m–” she cuts herself off, drawing back. “Nope. It’s not that, is it?”

Something warm blooms under T’Pring’s breastbone. No one before Nyota has ever trusted T’Pring to voice her insecurities, understood that she may not be entirely unshakable in her convictions but she asks for reassurance when she needs it.

“No,” T’Pring agrees, pulling the blanket a little tighter and reaching for Nyota’s hand. She takes it without a second thought, twining their fingers together in a way that steals T’Pring’s breath every time. “You have told me that you are fine with it. I trust you. It’s–” she breaks off, grimacing slightly and earning a gentle squeeze for her troubles.

“It’s okay,” Nyota says quietly.

T’Pring nods and takes a moment to center herself, draws a few deep breaths, and starts again. “Since I was too small to see the kitchen countertops I have been taught to control myself, to either process my emotions in the moment or store them away for later and to never allow them to dictate my actions. I have learnt to make control a second skin, to be aware of every expression and movement, and to keep my composure in all situations.”

“Okay,” Nyota says. “And that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

T’Pring shrugs. “I would not ascribe a moral value to it. It is necessary if I do not want to rip off someone’s head for taking the last apple in the fruit bowl.”

Nyota nods slowly. “Alright. So that’s not the problem.”

T’Pring sighs. “The issue is that I am not allowed the choice. Already, I am failing to maintain my usual level of restraint. Two of my staff have noticed and approached me out of concern. It will only get worse as the event approaches, and then I will have to lock myself in a room with one of the people I care about the most in the entire universe while the vestiges of my control are stolen from me and I devolve to my basest instincts.”

Nyota takes a minute to process that. “Ah. Just–if I’m getting this right; it’s scary that you’re having trouble controlling yourself, because you’ve been doing so your whole life, and you’re worried that the person you are without that is–”

“Not… good,” T’Pring finishes, curling further in on herself. “I do not think I will hurt you, Nyota. Even the most sordid places of my mind know that you are–you’re–”

“I’m not worried about that,” Nyota reassures her, rubbing circles with her thumb along the back of T’Pring’s hand. “I trust you. And I’m sorry that you’re having a difficult time. It can’t be fun, slowly losing your control like that. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It is not,” T’Pring agrees, leaning onto Nyota’s shoulder. “You are helping. I imagine I will need to start meditating more. I. It is frustrating, is all.”

“Yeah, it definitely sounds like it,” Nyota says, pressing her cheek to the crown of T’Pring’s head. “Maybe I could pull the staff you work most closely with aside and have a quick chat with them? Nothing too in depth, just that you’re going through a difficult time and you might be a little more tetchy.”

T’Pring bites her lip, hesitating. Logically, it would be the correct thing to do. Her staff should be given advance warning if their superior is to be more touchy for a significant period of time–it is an accommodation, she thinks her therapist would say, just like any other she would make for her staff. Emotionally, shame sours roots of her teeth at the mere thought of anyone having to treat her delicately for fear she might snap.

“I suppose,” she says reluctantly.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” Nyota tells her, squeezing her fingers. “You know, I think you’re so cool? I’ve felt what it feels like to be you,” T’Pring’s cheeks heat at the reminder of their first mind meld, which she’d messed up thoroughly enough to metaphorically dunk Nyota face-first into her maelstrom of emotions. “And it’s really fucking hard, babe. You’re so strong, all of the time. I don’t know anyone else who could do that and be a functional person.”

“Spock,” T’Pring points out, and Nyota snorts.

“He absolutely doesn’t count. He spent all of lunch gazing dreamily at Jim and then had to horf down his food in five minutes so that he wouldn’t pass out on shift,” she says.

That startles a laugh out of T’Pring, and she claps a hand over her mouth, pulling away in time to catch the warm glint in Nyota’s eye.

“Anyway,” she continues, clasping T’Pring’s hand between both of her own. “The next couple of weeks are going to suck for you. You’re allowed to ask people to be aware of that.”

T’Pring nods, breathing through the relief of weight sloughing off her shoulders, leaving behind stinging indentations. “As usual, you are correct.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says graciously. “I’ve got a shift off tomorrow morning; I’ll accompany you down and pull a couple of people out to talk. Other than that, is there anything else?”

T’Pring opens her mouth to say no, and then shuts it again, mulling over her emotions now that the most pressing of them is gone. “I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t we put on that new Mirian sitcom and you can think about it for a bit?” Nyota suggests. “I’ll get you a drink and pull out my knitting and you can let me know when you’re ready to talk about it.”

“That sounds nice,” T’Pring says. “Do we have mango juice left?”

“I think so, let me go check.”

She moves to get up, but T’Pring doesn’t let go of her hand, squeezing it when Nyota looks back at her. “Nyota? Thank you.”

They watch four and a half episodes before T’Pring reaches for the remote. The holographic screen freezes on an image of a heartfelt conversation between two people T’Pring thinks might be an estranged father and son, but she hasn’t been following the plot.

“Of course, babe,” she says, bending down to press a kiss to T’Pring’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a sec. I love you.”

***

Nyota finishes her row and sets down her knittings, turning expectantly to her. “You’ve got it.”

“I believe so,” T’Pring says, mulling it over. “I think I am–angry.”

“M’kay. At anything in particular?”

T’Pring taps her fingers on her glass, listening to her nails click. “I don’t get to choose,” she says. “Not just regarding losing my control, but. Due to some leftover, hundred year old instinct, in three weeks I have to either have intercourse, commit a murder or burn to death from the inside out. It is not… fair.”

“You don’t get to consent,” Nyota says, drawing back slightly. “Oh. Oh, honey.”

“No, it’s–” T’Pring’s words tangle together on her tongue, refusing to come out as she wants them. “It isn’t that I don’t want to, just–I am glad it is you. I just wish I had a choice.”

Nyota clicks her tongue. “No, yeah, that’s really distressing. I’m so sorry, T’Pring. I didn’t even think of that.”

T’Pring shrugs. “I cannot blame you. I didn’t, either.”

Nyota bites her lip. “Fuck, babe, what do I even–” she breaks off, squeezing T’Pring’s hand. “God. Okay. Let me think for a minute.”

They sit quietly for a while, Nyota gently pulling T’Pring’s head into her lap and combing her fingers through her hair until her eyes shut. The ship hums almost inaudibly around them, and the vents open up as the air starts to cycle.

“I think,” Nyota says finally, “And stop me if this isn’t helpful, because I don’t want to speak for you, but I think that something both of our cultures have in common is that they tend to place a pretty heavy emotional weight on sex.”

T’Pring hums, shifting to lie on her back and look up at Nyota.

“And that’s not necessarily… wrong,” Nyota continues. “But it doesn’t have to be right either. It took me a long time to learn that for me, personally, sex doesn’t have to be the most intense, significant thing ever. It can be something I do to make my partner feel good, or to help relieve stress, or just because I’ve had a bad day and want physical reassurance in that way. And obviously it’s still really distressing not to be able to choose, but. I guess my point is just that it can be a tool, whether to help with a headache or to satisfy ridiculous, ancient instincts.”

T’Pring tips her head back, rolling her shoulders as she mulls the words over. “That is… incredibly helpful. I’ve never considered it in that manner.”

Nyota shrugs. “Again, it’s just my perspective on it. I don’t want to discount your feelings, because it makes a lot of sense that you’re angry. This situation really sucks for you, and whatever emotions you have about it are entirely understandable. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

T’Pring gazes up at her, love swelling under her lungs and cutting off her breath. “I–can I, please?” she asks, nudging at her bond with Nyota.

“Sure,” Nyota says, bemused, and T’Prings pulls aside the curtain between their minds and floods her with the pure adoration filling her chest.

Nyota just grins, leaning down to kiss her and whisper ‘I love you too’ against her lips, as though she hasn’t just spent hours showing it. T’Pring levers herself up so she can sit in Nyota’s lap, and get a better angle to grab Nyota’s bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently.

Nyota hums, deep in her chest, and T’Pring thinks it’s the best sound she’s heard all day.

#t'pring x nyota #t'pring/nyota #t'pring #star trek #tos #star trek fanfiction #my writing #pon farr #gonna go to sleep good night babes #nyota uhura

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primofate · 3 years

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Shortfic: Zhongli x Childe x gn! Reader (Taking care of sick reader) Poly relationship

Listen, don’t sue me. I just have so much Zhongli x Childe x reader brainrot. I just think the dynamics would be so good. Zhongli being such a daddy good caretaker and Childe being... well Childe being Childe and you in the middle of it all, LIKE WHY THE HELL NOT? Yeah idk, I’m sorry, I indulged myself.

Categories: poly relationship, protective Childe and Zhongli, worry, possessive, fluff

Warnings: hinting at sexual activities (still very SFW though), poly relationship, not tagging anyone because I’m not sure if this is your thing. Let me know tho.

Characters: Zhongli x gn! Reader x Childe

"Zhongli…"

Childe stands in front of the man with a defeated look in his face, eyes turned towards the floor.

Zhongli was enjoying his tea, sitting at the table, liking the peace that it gave him. With a soft 'clink' he sets his teacup down and looks at Childe, calm gaze placed on the younger man.

"Childe, they will be fine,"

"I just don't understand what went wrong, was it too cold last night? Or were they overworking themselves?"

Zhongli sighs to himself, standing to close the gap between him and Childe. He cups a hand around the crook of Childe's neck, thumbing gently on his jaw.

"These things just happen sometimes, Childe. Perhaps it was something they ate, or even just a minimal change in their routine,"

"But they look like they're in so much pain,"

"I don't doubt it, their fever is at its peak at the moment. Not to worry, I've contacted Baizhu to take a look at them in the afternoon," Zhongli moves to remove his hand from Childe's neck, but the ginger haired male grasps on his wrist and stays it there. They stand in front of each other in silence, Childe swallowing the lump in his throat that had formed out of worry.

"Although we aren't bound by a contract…" Zhongli's voice tones down to a near whisper, Childe's eyes flicker up towards his. "...We're bound by an even stronger bond. Rest assured Childe, we are doing the best that we can," Zhongli moves his hand an inch downward towards his shoulder and squeezes it, and, in a slow and comforting motion, presses a kiss on Childe's forehead. "They will be fine," Zhongli repeats in a way that gives Childe the confidence and reassurance he needs.

The younger male takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. He nods and let's go of Zhongli's wrist, head turning the slightest to listen if you've woken up.

Nothing.

He kinda wished that you did, so that he could ask you how you were doing. If anything hurt. If you needed anything.

"Why don't you rest for a moment, I'll check on them in the next few hours," Zhongli motions over to the tea set on the table. There were 3 teacups filled up, one for him, one for Childe and one for you. "It wouldn't do if both of you got sick now, would it?"

Childe sighs and agrees, "Tell me if they wake up," and so for the rest of the day Zhongli stays by your bedside, changing the wet towel atop your forehead and merely watching the quickened rise and fall of your chest. Your face is flushed pink with the extra heat your body is producing, face clearly uncomfortable.

Suddenly Zhongli understands Childe’s anxiousness. You looked as if you were about to break. Childe was wildly protective of you, compared to Zhongli who always seemed to see things in a neutral manner. Looking at your current state though, he can't help but feel a stronger need to hide you away from the dangerous world.

Zhongli leans back in his seat, closing his eyes to rest momentarily. He had probably fallen asleep because in the next moment he hears his name on your lips. Even without opening his eyes, he knows that it’s you. He pushes himself up and comes to see that you’re sitting up as well, flush still on your face, sweat sticking to your forehead. “Y/N,” he’s a little startled, but motions for you to wait. If Childe finds out that he didn’t call him at the first moment, he’d be livid.

The moment he steps out of the room, his foot just an inch out, Childe is up and walking towards him. “Are they okay?” he asks, and Zhongli merely opens the door wider for him. Childe becomes a literal clingy koala at the sight of you. “Y/N!!!!” and leaps forward to give you a bear hug. There’s so many things coming out from his mouth that you weren’t even sure what he was saying anymore.

“Ahahaha…” You laugh nervously as he grips you in a tight hug. Zhongli just watches, the edge of his lips slightly upturned into a small smile. “I’m fine, Childe, I think I just need some rest and maybe something for the annoying headache I’m having,”

You pinch in between your eyebrows as Childe pulls back, smoothing your hair back and fussing over you. “Medicine, right? How ‘bout water? Do you need water?” You smile brightly at him despite the fatigue and he beams back, infinitely glad that you were awake and talking to him. He continues his line of questioning, “or maybe kisses? How about kisses? Hugs? I have plenty to give,” It was your laugh that let him know that you were feeling better, at least better than last night when he had just found you passed out on the floor.

“Just some tea is fine,” you reply, leaning forward to rest your head on Childe’s shoulder, him wrapping his arms around you in response.

“We’ve poured you a cup of tea already, I’ll go and fetch it,” Zhongli says, opting to give the two of you some time alone, but not before pressing a kiss atop your head, just as he had to Childe earlier.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain?” Childe yet again asks and you shake your head, “It’s manageable, don’t worry too much,” but your lover sighs and caresses your hair carefully. Zhongli comes back a moment later with Baizhu, who had arrived just as he was fetching your tea.

“Ah, Y/N, it’s a good sign you’re awake,” Baizhu smiles sweetly, much too sweet for your liking. Childe takes himself away from your bed and lets Baizhu do a complete check of your vitals and condition. He stood side by side with Zhongli, stance relaxed.

Baizhu isn’t stupid. He knows the kind of relationship the three of you have. He’s been on house call another time for Childe who had sustained quite the injury. He saw how you worried over him, and saw how Zhongli’s expression creased into anxiousness.

The situation was the same today. Except that you were the patient, Childe’s face was the one covered in anxiety and Zhongli… Well… He didn’t seem too bothered by the whole thing but if you looked closely, he was slightly tense than he usually was.

Baizhu just wanted to have his fun. How far were their boundaries, really?

“How are you feeling, dear?” Baizhu asks you as you’re sipping on the warm tea. “...Tired and… a splitting headache” You put away the cup of tea with a slight sigh, still feeling your muscles cry out for help. “Is that so?” Baizhu tilts your head up to look at him, fingers under your chin, and he peers into your eyes, a tad closer than he was before.

Zhongli and Childe tense at the motion, but don’t make a move to interfere. “Just checking your pupil dilation,” there’s an undertone of mischief in his voice, though you couldn’t tell if that’s just how he usually was or…

Baizhu’s hands slide down to your arm, taking your wrist and checking your pulse. A moment of silence passes, “Just a little fast but otherwise normal,” and lets go of your arm. He prescribes a medley of Chinese herbs to be taken as tea, telling Zhongli and Childe how to prep it. He finishes his examination rather quickly, “A normal fever, if it worsens tomorrow then you should call me once again,” he takes your hand and rubs it rather affectionately. You’re a bit surprised at the action.

As if that wasn’t enough, another one of his hands cup your cheek as he gives you a quick wink, “I wouldn’t mind getting called multiple times for such a charming face like yours,” the blush on your cheeks is suddenly not just because of the fever.

One would think that Childe would react faster to the pharmacist’s advances, but it was Zhongli who sets his hand down rather roughly on the other man’s shoulder, “Baizhu, that’s unnecessary,” The tall man says. Almost commands.

Childe was only mid step. The green-haired man chuckles, the white snake around his neck weirdly quiet today. “I’m merely examining your...interesting arrangements, they ARE a piece of art--” and the warning squeeze on his shoulder told him that he should be going.

He chuckles again, but lets himself be led out by Zhongli. Childe takes his place next to you, the mattress caving at his weight, “...Were you blushing just now?” he accuses you, eyes squinted.

“N-No… It’s the fever…” but your stutter tells him otherwise. He raises an eyebrow in question, obviously not believing you.

You gulp a little, “I was just caught off guard… it’s not that I enjoyed what he said…” you pout a little. Childe smiles at the cute look on your face, he was merely teasing. “Oh? Well, doesn’t matter, I’ve seen a lot more different expressions on your face than just a small blush,” there’s a quick smirk on his face and it’s here that your face turns into a tomato. You know exactly what he was insinuating.

Thankfully, Zhongli strolls in and sees the alarming redness on your face, concludes that Childe must have said something to fluster you again. “They still require some rest, Childe, perhaps leave the teasing for a little later,”

His tone is stern, but only because he knows you needed more sleep. Childe smiles but continues, “I think they’re just fine! See how their cute little face blushes just for me, Zhongli,” he takes your face in his hands and turns it towards Zhongli, who was...admittedly slightly enamored by the charming display.

Zhongli coughs into his hand and turns his gaze away, “Strange how energetic you are now, just a moment ago you were beside yourself with worry about Y/N,” It was your turn to tease Childe at the information Zhongli just gave out. “Oh? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you so much!”

Before Childe could even reply Zhongli continues the sentiment, “Yes, he looked as if he was about to cry,”

“Th-That’s not!” Childe retracts from you, wanting to say that it wasn’t true but his words get stuck in his throat and it is now his turn to turn his gaze away in slight embarrassment. Zhongli and you snicker at his change in attitude but you were also curious as to what Zhongli was doing while you were fast asleep, “and you, Zhongli? I suppose you’re not one to worry too much,”

There’s silence on his end, with his arms crossed you can’t gauge his expression but he was having an internal battle on whether or not to tell you that he was actually just as worried. But...he had to be the strong one for the two of you. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, strolls over to you and leans down to quickly kiss the side of your lips. “I worry in my own way, dear,” The way he says dear sends shivers down your spine, and you know in your heart that he had been worried too, just toned down to balance out Childe’s anxiousness.

Childe suddenly gets in bed with you, pulling you down for a rest. His chest is against your back, arms around your waist and mouth whispering in your ear “The two of us will always take care of you, believe me,” You smile a little and close your eyes. “I know,” just as Zhongli joins in, placing himself at your front.

Sandwich cuddles are your favourite and although you’re very much running a fever, the warmth from them is soothing. Zhongli drapes an arm on both of you, and leans down to kiss you on the forehead, brushing away stray strands of your hair as if you’re porcelain. When he pulls away he sees the look Childe gives him. A ‘Do-I-get-one-too?’ written all over his face.

Zhongli chuckles, leans in a little bit further to place one on the other man’s forehead, and watches the two of you drift in and out of sleep.

It’s certainly one of the most beautiful sights he’s witnessed.

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#Zhongli #Childe #Tartaglia #polyamory #Zhongli x Childe #Chili #Zhongli x Childe x reader #Genshin #Genshin fics #Genshin hc #Genshin short fic

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heartsmadeofbooks · 2 years

Text

Sleepless in Brooklyn [6/?]

Words: 12,318 Genre: Romance/Drama Rated: T Character: Kurt H., Blaine A. Summary: What if someone you never met, someone you never saw, someone you never knew was the only someone for you? After his husband passes away, Blaine Anderson and his son relocate to Brooklyn to escape the overwhelming grief, but two years later, Blaine finds he still can't move on. That is, until his son calls a radio show and tells the host his dad needs a new husband.

Isabelle walked out of her kitchen with two cups of tea – a gorgeous vintage set she had found at the flea market, delicate and expensive, which was how she usually liked things to be – and back into the living room where she had left Kurt Hummel sprawled on the couch like he was a pile of dirty laundry.

Poised, elegant, always put together Kurt Hummel – she could hardly recognize him right now.

He hadn’t said much after she picked him up at the airport, sensing that he didn’t need to be alone right now. Whatever had happened in New York had truly shaken him up. Part of her was excited to hear more about this Sleepless in Brooklyn story – she was invested, sue her – and another part, that was slightly bigger, wanted her friend to stop suffering. It wasn’t fun seeing him like this.

Read it on AO3 | Read it on FF.net

#Fic: Sleepless in Brooklyn #Klaine #Klaine fic #Klaine fanfic #Klaine fanfiction

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Evil Twins - Part 3

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Slightly questionable consent to begin with. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

Your head bumped slightly against the corner of the kitchen cupboard and this brought you back to reality. What did you think you were doing? You pushed Billy away roughly and stepped quickly away from him. He looked bereft but you ignored that, saying, “Okay, Billy - enough. I don’t know what I was thinking!” You picked up some of the crockery and went to the dishwasher.

Billy lounged back against the sink, arms crossed, long legs spread, contemplating you.

“That you were enjoying it?”

You huffed, “So what if I was? But it really wasn’t a good idea.” He smirked, “You don’t really believe that.” He pushed himself off the sink unit and headed back to the living room, saying over his shoulder, “To be continued, sweetheart.”

You clattered the dishes around, loading the dishwasher and mentally beating yourself up for giving in to your baser instincts, when you heard Aleksander’s voice in the other room.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” You heard Billy make a relaxed stretching noise like a cat, and you could visualise him doing just that.

“Oh I dunno. What could I possibly be looking pleased about, huh?” “You…!” shouted Aleksander, and then you heard scuffling noises so you rushed through there. As you’d feared, Billy and Aleksander were rolling around on the floor, grunting and trying to punch each other’s lights out.

“Stop it!” you yelled at the top of your voice, but they ignored you. So you waded in, trying to separate them without success. Eventually you took to landing punches on them yourself. Both of them stopped wrestling and looked at you in surprise, and you took this opportunity to yell at them, “Get up! Stop this right now and get up!”

You all unentangled yourselves, standing up and rearranging clothes. They sat down on a sofa each, while you stood there glaring at them like a headmistress, arms crossed. “What is it with you two?! You’re like a couple of stags butting heads! And I’m not talking about your stupid amplifier!” you yelled at them and glaring at Aleksander. The two of them mumbled under their breaths and you said loudly, “What? What was that? It better have been ‘we’re sorry we make you act like our mum’ or something like that!”

They both laughed, exchanging glances, and you snapped, “This is no laughing matter! I’m sick of it. It’s like having two children around the place.” Billy composed his face into a serious expression, saying, “Sorry, sweetheart. But you must know that a mother’s the last thing we think of you as.” Aleksander nodded, “For once I agree with that idiot.” He looked intently at you, “We both want you, so that’s never going to end well.”

You felt your face pink up, “I’m not some snack to be fought over!” “Course you’re not, sweetheart,” soothed Billy, “but this idiot thought I’d slept with you so he lost his cool.” “Did not!” roared Aleksander, then his head swung to you, “You didn’t, did you?” “No I did NOT!” you insisted. “But she did kiss me,” smirked Billy. Outraged, you screeched, “You kissed me, if you recall!” Billy just kept on smirking and Aleksander launched himself across the coffee table, grabbing Billy by the throat and hissing, “Just as well for you I can’t use the Cut right now!”

“Oh for god’s sake,” you said, “just stop it, will you?” Aleksander stood up, huffing and smoothing down his t-shirt, sitting down on the other sofa again. “What’s the Cut?” queried Billy. “You don’t wanna know,” you said, “now I’m going to put the TV on for you children because I need to do some housework.” You heard a chuckle from Billy, “Yeah! You could put on a maid’s outfit if ya like?” You flipped him the middle finger, switched on the TV and went back into the kitchen.

You could hear a rumble of voices from the other room, and just hoped that war was not about to break out again. What the hell were you going to do about this situation? You had the feeling it was building to boiling point.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

When you emerged a little later having seen to your domestic tasks, you found the two of them sitting on the floor with your old Monopoly set open in front of them. Aleksander was poring over the instructions and they both turned towards you, “How d’ya play this?” asked Billy. You stared at him, “Now him I could understand but you? You’ve never played Monopoly?” His face fell and he shrugged, “No, they didn’t have it in the orphanage.” Immediately you felt terrible and you’d already said, “Oh I’m sorry, Billy,” before your brain caught up with your mouth and you added sarcastically, “I should’ve known you wouldn’t have had it in your fictional orphanage in your fictional childhood.”

His big dark eyes gazed up at you, “Might be fictional to you, sweetheart but it wasn’t to me.” Now you felt bad again, holding up your hands, “Okay, okay - I really am sorry, alright?” He nodded, looking back down and fidgeting with the little dog and top hat tokens. You joined them on the floor, “You two really want to play?” They solemnly nodded, so you whipped the instructions out of Aleksander’s hands, “Okay, I’ll explain it to you.”

Twenty minutes later, Aleksander huffed as he got sent to Jail again, reached over and grabbed a load of Billy’s houses and hotels and dumped them on his own squares. “That’s you all over, isn’t it?” sneered Billy, “you’re a loser but you can’t stand it so you just grab what you want, brother!” “Oh and you don’t, hmm brother?!” snarked Aleksander.

“Billy, Aleksander!” you yelled, then in your wisdom decided to add, “in fact I’m going to call you ‘Aleks’ as your full name’s too much of a mouthful for when I’m yelling at you!” Aleks grinned at you, “Or when you’ll be screaming it in bed.” Billy eye-rolled, “Like that’s ever goin’ to happen!” “Just watch!” “I don’t go in for watchin’!” “Well, that’s all you’re going to get a chance to do, little brother!” “Little brother!?? You were definitely second - after me!!”

By now, both of them had jumped to their feet and - surprise, surprise - were nose to nose.

You cradled your head in your hands. This was purgatory.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She’d retreated back onto the kitchen to make another pot of tea, and peace had temporarily broken out between the two warring parties.

A discussion had begun, with Billy starting it off. “She’s gettin’ really pissed off with us.” Aleks nodded, “Yes, I know.” “So what’re we gonna do? She can’t exactly throw us out I know, but I’d like it better if she was lookin’ at us with somethin’ other than disgust.” Aleks nodded, then - quickly looking round to check she was still out of earshot, “Ah… I suppose we could share?” Billy’s head shot up, eyes staring into his twin’s, “Ya what?” “Share. We could share her. Separately… or together.”

Billy’s mouth dropped into an ‘O’. “Share,” he repeated, then again, “share? D’you think she’d go for that?” Aleks nodded. “She likes us, I can tell. We both like her, and that could be a problem - well it has been, hasn’t it? - but if we play it right, I’m pretty sure we can charm her into bed with both of us.”

Billy and Aleks sat looking at each other, satisfied little smiles on their faces.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Unaware that you were now the object of a peace treaty between the twins, you experienced some deja vu when carrying the tea tray into the living room. Both of them were sitting on the one sofa again, gazing up at you with unreadable expressions in their eyes.

You had the nastiest feeling that you’d missed something important while you’d been in the kitchen making tea. What had the two of them been cooking up between themselves? You plonked the tray down on the coffee table and looked at them suspiciously.

“What’re you two up to?” They shook their heads, innocence radiating off them, “ Nothing!” they chorused. Billy continued, “We just decided that we better stop pissin’ you off so much.”

You beamed at them, “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!” You missed the significant looks exchanged between the two men as you placed the cups of tea in front of them.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed relatively peacefully, with only a few minor skirmishes between the two of them about whatever film or programme you’d put on to watch. And much to your surprise, you realised that they’d actually stopped arguing themselves without you having to step in. Well, that was an improvement at any rate.

For the evening meal you’d rustled up a ragu sauce, and as you didn’t have any spaghetti left you had to use farfalla. So sue me, you thought. Along with some garlic bread you’d heated in the oven, you dished up three portions and then pulled down your space-saving kitchen table, which folded up into the corner of the room when not in use. You got three chairs out of your walk-in cupboard and set them up round the table. “Dinner!” you yelled, and two tall figures came piling into the kitchen. “Mmmm smells great, sweetheart,” schmoozed Billy, sitting down and looking over to where the plates were on the counter. “It does, moi krasivyy,” said Aleks, not to be outdone.

You brought out three bottles of beer from the fridge. You’d almost got over the way food and drinks just replenished themselves as soon as you used or consumed something. Setting them down on the table, you popped the tops off them with the bottle opener and slid one in front of each of them. You noticed they were both looking at you with what could only be described as ‘heart-eyes’, and you squirmed uncomfortably under their gaze. “What’re you both staring at?” you demanded. “Perfection,” said Aleks. “Gorgeousness,” smirked Billy.

After the food had been eaten and beer bottles drained, amidst more effusive compliments about the meal the twins jumped up from the table and said that you needed to go and relax while they washed up the plates. “Thanks for offering, guys, but that’s why I’ve got a dishwasher.” “Well, we’ll load the dishwasher then,” insisted Billy. He took your arm and led you into the living room, “Sit down sweetheart, and just chill while we do the work now.” He gazed at you, and you saw that look in his eyes again - as if you were some kind of earth-bound angel or something.

Right! you thought, just what are these two up to???

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You sighed, leaning over and switching off your bedside lamp. The book you’d been reading wasn’t turning out to be quite what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a bit more… well, raunchier content, not to put too fine a point on it. In that respect, a nun could’ve read it and wouldn’t have blushed.

You’d wondered if you should read a fanfic or two instead - Billy Russo or The Darkling ha ha ha - but then you’d remembered that your wifi and mobile data weren’t working due to this ridiculous situation you found yourself in, so obviously whatever force controlled this… this portal?…didn’t want you contacting the outside world.

You’d fallen asleep quite quickly, laughing to yourself as you did that children were extremely tiring.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The dreams began shortly afterwards, and they were much more vivid than usual.

Your quilt was folded slowly back off you - the rush of cold air was distinctly noticeable - and your top and sleep shorts were peeled off you. You heard deep sighs but you didn’t know who’d made them. Then you were gently rolled onto your back, and you were aware of your mattress dipping down on both sides.

You felt warm skin against your whole body - it almost felt like you were surrounded - and it felt so good that you smiled.

“See! She’s smiling, I told you she’d be fine with it.”

In your dream your brow wrinkled, she’d be fine with what? And who said that?

You felt a tongue lick one of your nipples and a hand squeezed your other breast and then switched - the other nipple was licked, the other breast was squeezed.

You sat bolt upright in bed, and that’s when you realised that you were in fact wide awake.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

In the dim light coming through your gauzy curtains, you could make out two pairs of dark chocolate eyes staring into yours.

“Darling,” said Aleks.

“Sweetheart,” said Billy.

“You fuckers!” you screeched, looking down at your nude body and trying to cover up the relevant bits with your hands and by crossing your legs.

“Too late,” said Billy, giving you a small smile and nodding at your hands which you were still moving around to try and give you maximum coverage.

“We’ve had our hands and mouths on you already,” agreed Aleks.

“Yes and without my permission!” you snapped.

Billy reached across and put on the light. You jumped, feeling like you were under a spotlight, moving your hands about even more frantically. Then Billy’s hands were pulling yours down and away from your breasts.

“Hey!” you yelled at him, and tried to pull your hands out of his but he wouldn’t let go and he was too strong for you.

Now Aleks did his bit, pulling your raised and crossed legs down onto the bed, parting your thighs in your sitting position against your pillows, and then held your legs tightly in position on the bed.

Both men totally consumed you with their eyes, and you were powerless to stop them.

“Oh, darling… you are so, so beautiful,” breathed Aleks.

Billy whispered, “You’re stunning, sweetheart. Absolutely stunning.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“I can’t believe you two!” you were yelling at them, ignoring their compliments and lustful gazes, “Let me go!”

“But you know how much we want you, darling,” Aleks said persuasively.

“Just let us get it out of our systems and things will quieten down,” pleaded Billy, “well, a little bit anyhow.”

“I cannot believe you sneaked into my room!” you hissed, trying to get free from their restraining hands. “Let go of me. Now!!!”

But instead they slid you down the bed until you were flat on your back and then both heads dipped down to your neck, their mouths were on your skin, beginning to kiss and lick and suck.

“Get off me!” you snarled, still trying to get free but you were too firmly held between them - as if you were in a vice. “But we can make you feel so good, darling,” whispered Aleks next to your ear, Billy purring “Soooo very good, sweetheart,” next to the other one.

Then their attention moved slightly southwards. Billy changed his grip on your hands, grasping both your wrists in one big hand instead and pulling your arms up above your head, pinning them down onto your pillows. Aleks moved one of his legs across yours to keep you pinned, and then you saw their hands stealing onto your breasts, squeezing and kneading them before their mouths came into play. Their hands remained on your breasts but each nipple now had one of their mouths fastened onto it, and they began licking, kissing, sucking and biting until you squealed, squirming under them.

Desperately fighting to ignore how good their attentions were beginning to make you feel, you burst out, “Stop it!” but neither of them did. In fact they both stepped up their attentions, biting and licking your nipples and the skin surrounding them until you could hear yourself beginning to gasp uncontrollably.

You caught a look and a nod being exchanged between them, and both of them sat up on their knees. Billy was still holding your wrists and Aleks used one of his knees to keep your leg pinned. Unable to avoid looking at the two lean bodies in front of you, you saw two rampant cocks lying up almost against their stomachs and much to your disgust, you felt a tumultuous wave of arousal wash over you.

They are two very well-endowed boys, your traitorous mind said into your ear. And exactly the same size! - truly twins, it giggled at you. Oh shut up, you silently answered it and get me out of this situation! Of course now it did shut up.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Sweetheart,” said Billy, cupping your cheek and suddenly kissing you, tongue thrusting into your mouth, breaking away for a second to say, “We’re gonna take real good care of you now.” He went back to kissing you, and you heard a whine from Aleks, “I want to kiss her!” Billy sighed into your mouth and lifted his lips from yours. “Okay, bro,” he said, “all yours. For now.”

Aleks crashed his lips onto yours, his teeth clashing with yours until he calmed down a bit and wasn’t quite so desperate. His tongue slid into your mouth, not quite as assertively as Billy’s but still pretty forceful. You could hear him making little “Mmmm” sounds as he kissed you then he sat back, stroking your lips. “Taste so sweet,” he smiled down at you, “your lips are so soft.”

Aleks sat up on his knees again and as he did so, you felt Billy’s body lay down fully on top of you and he rested his hard cock just for a moment between your legs. His hands took hold of your hips and angled you upwards ever so slightly, then you felt just the head of his cock rubbing against your core. Wetness began to gather and you tutted, trying to squirm away from the insistent teasing, but Billy just chuckled and moved his cock along with you when you managed to move slightly, still rubbing at you.

Aleks’ thumb went to your bottom lip and he gently pulled it down further, opening your mouth to him. He leant over and licked both your lips, sucking on them gently then pushing his tongue inside your mouth. Now he was hovering over you, his erection brushing your lips, the tip starting to edge inside.

Okay, okay, okay, your slightly panicking brain chanted. This was happening. Really going to happen. They were both going to take you right now.

You weren’t 100% sure how you felt about it.

Angry that they were just going to have you whatever you said about it. Excited because they were both very hot, very sexy guys.

But whatever your feelings on the matter, it was inevitable - that much was obvious.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“I promise I’ll make you feel like you’re in heaven, darling,” you heard Aleks say and then Billy chipping in with, “An’ I promise I’ll make you scream my name, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes, waiting.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@aleksanderwh0r3 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @s1xthirty @tartiflvtte @slythvoid @edithsvoice @paracosmenthusiast @mizelophsun11 @eroda-harry @theshadowkingsqueen @kestrafagnor @thelightinmyshadows

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #the punisher 💀#shadow and bone #billy russo & aleksander morozova x reader #billy russo and aleksander morozova fanfiction #billy russo and aleksander morozova imagine #billy russo and aleksander morozova fanfic #billy russo x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

Note

Bruh I am SOFT can I have Western Tech with Fluff prompt 20?

DOCTOR VICTOR TRECH THE THIRD HAS MY HEART, bless you anon, especially this prompt? i’m melting

Also I had to changhe names again, Shaeeah isn’t a very “western” name, Suu became “Sue”, and Jek is close enough I think so he’s good!

And for those of you who don't know the AMAZING creator of this AU @hellothere-generalangsty has started that Tech was GOING TO PROPOSE but the woman turned him down. Ouch. Naturally I will use this to make myself sad.

Prompt 20: “My, oh my. You’re such a beautiful creature.”

Tech rolled up his sleeves, tying off the stitch. “There.” He slowly clipped the string and set his needle in the sanitization bowl. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Mrs. Laquwane smiled, her thick hair being tugged at by her son, Jek. “Are you feeling better, Shay?”

The girl nodded, glancing down at the puckered wound. "Will I get better?"

"Of course you will." Tech smiled gently, watching as Jek admired his sister's wound. "Ah, don't touch it, Jek." Sue tossed her son a frown, before turning back to Tech. "Here." He handed her a small jar, tapping on the lid. "Apply that to the cleaned surface every night. If you need more, let me know. I'll drop by next week to examine the stitches."

Sue smiled, pushing one of her thick braids over her shoulders. "Thank you, Tech."

“Of course, Mrs. Laquwane.” Tech smiled politely, nodding, as Shay grabbed her bonnet, examining the stitched in her arm again. “You have brave children.”

Jek tugged on his mother’s second braid, eyes gleaming in their sly, childish way. “Can I get stitches too?”

“Oh, heavens, I hope not.” Sue sighed as Tech chuckled, shaking his head slightly, waving politely as the trio left. He leaned on the doorway, chest swelling with pride- another long day of good work was done. A grin that only emerged when he felt like he had a genuine job well done fought its way onto his face as he ducked back into his office.

Tech slowly rolled up his things. He tugged the curtains shut and picked up his bag, sighing softly as he plunked his hat onto his head. Tech tucked his key into his pocket, shutting the door as he slowly began the trek home - just a few streets away.

It was only beginning to darken when he reached the inn. He nodded to Cid and tugged the watch from his pocket. He swelled with pride, examining the elaborate design on the clasp and the cover of the face. The time stated it was only now past six-fifteen, and he was late.

Cid frowned, puffing on her cigar. "You're late."

He offered a small smile, taking the little stack of mail she offered him. "I understand that."

She chuckled, tucking the cigar into her mouth. "Need some company? I bet one of the girls would-"

"No, I am quite alright." Tech spoke quickly, face flushing. "Thank you." Her laughter followed him up the stairs.

He unlocked his room, walking in, pausing briefly to light the oil lamp. The flame caught, and he blew out the match gently. He dropped the medical bag on his bed, sinking into the mattress with a soft creak.

He turned over envelopes, skimming the names on them. Some were letters from family, a letter from one of his Universities (probably inviting him to lecture), and one was...

The light spilled on the cream envelope, dripping like blood. The name alone made his throat dry. Miss Sawyer, he swallowed, fingers trembling. He opened the letter, shakily.

His face was warm, eyes unbearably hot reading the words- palaces of paragraphs, telling Victor how wonderful life was and how it wasn't the same without him. She had told him he wasn't enough when he had gotten on one knee. That being a doctor's wife was not suitable for a woman of her stature- and here she was, months later, pouring an arsenic-laced honeyed apology into a leaf of paper.

Tech stood, abandoning the letter on his bed. He took no time to try and tug his overcoat back on, or button his waistcoat- he just flew down the stairs, past Cid, tears blearing his eyes, throat chapped as he tore towards the stables.

It was about twenty minutes into the ride when he knew where he was going, horse slowly manuvering up the red hills, caked with rocks. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the mane of the horse, inhaling its scent of alfalfa and leather. The horse knickered softly, pausing in it's canter as a dog barked.

Tech glanced up, pushing a hand in his sweat-slicked hair. The door to the house was thrown open, warm light pouring out into the falling night, and the herbalist ran out, a bulky jacket thrown on over her coat. She ran towards him, not walked, ran, her hair loose instead of pulled into a bun or braids. Her eyes shone even in the darkness as Tech climbed off the horse. "Doc, what-"

No words came from him. He reached out, collapsing against her, leaning down aw(wardky and pressing his face into her shoulder, every shaky breath inhaling the old smell of her jacket- smoke, pipe smoke, and vanilla. He clutched her, his breathing hitching.

She was secure, safe. He needed only her.

The herbalist only paused for a moment before closing her arms around him, vocalizing no objections. They stood together, the light at her back, and he steadily found his shakey feet on the steady ground of her.

Tenderly, she tugged away. "Let's go inside." She said, gently. "I have some tea, and a fire." Her lips pressed into a smile, and she nodded in encouragement, leading him to the warmth of her house, her home.

___

The couch was comfortable, Tech found, curled up, with the Herbalist handing him a cup of tea. He took a small sip, mumbling his thanks as she plopped down next to him, the heavy coat still on her shoulders. She watched him, eyes softened in the glow of the fire. "You've been crying."

He drew in a sharp breathe and started into the tea, the water bruising with leaves and their colors and he nodded. "Yes," He managed. He blinked to help bring some comfort to his dry eyes.

She crossed her legs, watching him. "You wanna talk about it?"

Tech glanced up from the cup, eyes scanning her face. "No," The doctor rasped. "I don't."

"Mm," She hummed, standing softly. Tech stared up at her as she moved, lowering her cup. "I can leave you alone-"

"No." Tech moved quicker than he could think, moving to her, crashing to his knees and grasping the skirt of her nightgown. "I can't be alone," His words were short of air, shallow. "Not again, not again."

He didn't want to look up. He just wanted to keep his face in her nightgown skirts, holding them- holding her- and forget what he had been running from. Hell, he had forgotten, the moment he saw her riding up to his stagecoach, like an angel of battle, and the only thing stirring in him was an overwhelming sense of her.

She moved her hands in his hair, shushing his cries. "Victor," She said, and the way she said it broke him. That concern, that love-

Quietly, she slid to her knees, too, and hugged him to her. "I'll stay, I'll stay with you. Or you can come sleep with me again." A rack happened in her lungs and she shook her head quickly. "Like last time. When I put my head in your lap-"

Tech picked his head up and kissed her, fingers winding in her coat. Her words were cut short by his kiss, the fire, the need in it. She hummed and pressed her hands in his hair, tugging him closer, tighter, and Tech felt like the fire- warm, hot, needy, comforting- his lust and his love were an oxymoron within themselves.

She pressed herself away, chest rising and falling against Tech's as her fingers brushed down to his waistcoat. Her eyes darted to his own, and she licked her lips, the delectible tongue peeking out from the supple fresh-kissed lips.

Tech ran his hand down the side of her face, the warmth exploding in his heart. "My, oh my," He sighed. Her skin was rosy, flushed from the kiss, cheeks the tint of rose-hips. "You're such a beautiful creature."

She sighed, leaning into him as he tugged her close, surrendering to his kisses.

Tech was done running for his past- he had found his future, here, in his arms.

#tbb western au #tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #tech #gosh he's just so yummy #tech x you #bad batch reader insert #minty writes

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fancoloredglasses · 2 years

Text

Ace’s Saga part 2: Epilogue (The REAL origin of Batman)

[All images are owned by DC Comics and WarnerMedia. I hope I’m too small-fry to sue...]

In my last review, I introduced you to...

...Ace, a girl with the power to warp minds. This episode is Ace’s second and final appearance. It was also supposed to be the final episode of Justice League Unlimited, but it ran for another season after this.

Before we get to the review, I would like to introduce you to someone who anyone who saw Arrow or either Suicide Squad film would know...

...Amanda Waller. She was first introduced in the Legends comic miniseries as the head of Task Force X (the government division that runs the Suicide Squad), but later found her way into the espionage division known as Checkmate, the DEO, the metahuman experimental lab known as Cadmus...basically, any government agency dealing with the cape-and-mask set she has a hand in and often sees herself as the one who draws the line in the sand between the world and the metahumans who would take it over (including the heroic ones), often straddling the line of legality and ethics to do so (but she’s more or less one of the good guys)

She’s butted heads with the Justice League on a few occasions.

youtube

(Thanks to Kojack155)

Now, you may be wondering why I’m bringing up Waller in a review involving Ace. No, Waller doesn’t have her (though apparently she rounded Ace up along with the rest of what would become the Royal Flush Gang when they were younger) Trust me, it will become clear by the end of the cold open. Speaking of, if you would like to watch the episode, it’s available on KissCartoon...

We open about 40 years after the events of Batman Beyond, which would make Terry McGinnis in his 50s and Bruce Wayne in his 90s. Let’s just ignore that, because otherwise Terry would be looking for his replacement. Plus there are inconsistencies in the dialogue that don’t mesh with this. You know, forget I put that graphic up there and just say it’s a number of years after.

We open on a small mansion with what look like “private security” patrolling the grounds.

However, these are easily evaded or subdued by a shadowy figure in a trenchcoat. Eventually the figure makes his way to the mansion’s study where we find...

“I’ve been wondering when you were going to show up.

Terry McGinnis...or do you prefer to be called...Batman?”

Roll opening credits!

Yes, we’re dealing with a more mature Terry who’s been Batman for many years and a much older Amanda Waller.

We cut to a flashback (we know this because it’s in black and white and in letterbox format) where Terry is about to have yet another falling out with Bruce.

We switch back to the present (well, the present as of the beginning of the episode anyway; episodes set in the future can be a bit confusing) and Waller is attempting to make small talk and be a gracious hostess, but Terry simply wants answers. Waller offers Terry tea, but he smacks the cup aside, shattering it.

We cut to another flashback where Terry is breaking up with Dana, his long-time girlfriend of 15 years (not 40 if the graphic at the beginning of the episode was correct), that he’s breaking up with her for her own safety (yeah, she knows about Terry’s double life by now)

Back in the present, Waller muses about the lost cup while Terry mopes about being doomed to always being Batman.

We cut to yet another flashback where Batman leaves the Justice League.

Back in the present, we find out exactly why Terry is more broody than usual: he discovered his DNA was a genetic match to Bruce’s when Bruce needed a kidney cloned. That could only be possible if they were related.

We cut bask to Bruce’s flashback. Bruce bristles at Terry’s accusation that he manipulated Terry’s DNA. Bruce points out that he never met Terry or his mother until Terry was 16, so how could he? With that, Terry walks out...which catches us up.

Back in the present, Waller tells Terry he’s wrong about Bruce and tells him a story of years past (now we’re getting to Ace)...

youtube

(Thanks to BatScenes)

Excuse me...sniff...I have a bit of stolen childhood in my eye...

Back in the present, Waller says she gained a great deal of respect for Bruce after that day. She also reveals that she knows Bruce didn’t manipulate Terry’s DNA...because she did!

Waller couldn’t bear to see a world without Batman, so she arranged for a new one! Thus began “Project Batman Beyond”. Waller picked Terry’s parents as her test subjects (without their knowledge)

Terry’s father was unknowingly injected with a compound that rewrote his reproductive organs to produce sperm that matched Bruce Wayne’s DNA. Then Terry was conceived (does that mean Terry’s brother Matt is also a potential Batman?) Waller was prepared to have Terry’s parents murdered to set the chain of events rolling...

Wait, is that Andrea Beaumont?!

I guess it is!

Anyway, Andrea wouldn’t go through with it, saying if Waller wants to create Batman she needs to adhere to his ethics.

Upon hearing this, Terry laments that his dad died anyway. Maybe he was cursed to become Batman. Waller offers a different opinion: Terry’s not a clone of Bruce, but his son, capable of making his own decisions rather than being forced down Bruce’s path.

Later that evening, Terry returns to Wayne Manor at 3am and makes up with Bruce. He then makes a phone call to Dana (at 3am? You’re lucky she loves you!), saying he wants to ask her something on Friday...

Good for you Terry! With that, we would’ve gotten closure on the Dini-verse had they not green-lit another season

#DC comics #justice league #Batman Beyond #amanda waller #ace #dini-verse #Fan Colored Glasses

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted.

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on.

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie.

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers.

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her.

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand.

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom.

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!”

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

#going angst week 2021 #*jazz hands* I uh finally contributed #this is another interesting thing that just sorta happened #I was actually rereading and writing more for Side Effects when I realized that someone could follow the paper trail of the accident #which led me to a tiny lil GIW Investigator who blew Dannys secret wide open #which *then* led me to the tragedy of Maddie learning of her child's 'death' second hand but over a year after a fact #there's something about delayed tragedy... thinking everythings ok only to learn it hasn't been for a while #Love Mads but btw her an Jack shes the one who seems the more likely to take offense to her son's ghost haunting his own life #to keep playing along and pretending to be alive #him secretly being Phantom was the final straw #Both pretending to be Danny then *teasing* her when he saw her as a ghost #(obviously thats not the case but Maddie believes was Made To Believe it was)#Oh I wanted to strange Agent S this whole time typing #the blatant.... manipulation #Maddie may feel free to grieve now but her child's torment was only beginning #haha good times see ya

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dingdongitsbees · 3 years

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Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it

offer up your heart

↪ WC: 3.3k ↪ Ao3 Link ↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft

Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

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You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.

In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.

Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.

The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.

When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.

Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.

So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.

Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.

You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.

You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.

You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?

Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…

He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.

That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.

He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.

When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.

He swore he saw a deity.

Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.

And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.

Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.

You were the definition of a muse.

You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.

You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.

After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.

You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.

You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”

He blinked.

“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”

You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”

“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”

“Historia Reiss.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.

“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”

A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.

“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”

He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.

“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”

“Do.”

“Pardon?”

“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”

He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.

“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”

He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.

He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.

“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.

“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.

“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.

You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!

“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”

Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.

“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”

A different world from yours indeed.

“I imagine that’s quite intense.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”

“I’d hope not.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.

You really were something else.

You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.

He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?

When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.

But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.

As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.

Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.

The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.

Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.

Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”

He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”

You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.

Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.

The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.

“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.

“I suppose it is.”

“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”

You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”

He smiled softly. “See you.”

He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.

You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.

“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.

“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”

“He was…he was just being nice.”

She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.

“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”

Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.

He didn’t even ask for your number.

He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.

But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.

a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

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#erwin #erwin smith #erwin aot #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith x you #erwin x y/n #erwin smith x y/n #erwin snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on castes #historia #historia reiss

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yandearest · 4 years

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May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 1: The Reaping

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 4.6K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

What little shred of hope for survival you may have had, after hearing your name announced from the reaping, was immediately squashed minutes later by two simple words. “I volunteer”.

Volunteers from District 4 were not uncommon. There was a not-so-secret training complex the capitol turned a blind eye to, in a warehouse near the docks. During your time in school you knew of several kids who trained before and after classes. At the age of twelve some of them dropped out all together, with the sole purpose of training every waking second of the day so they could volunteer at eighteen. There was no need for an education if your only purpose in life was to compete in a death match that offered a lifetime of rewards to the winner.

After the misfortune of having your name drawn you looked around, silently begging for one of the girls to come up and replace you, only for no takers. But when Kim Namjoon eagerly announced his intentions of volunteering (the reaped twelve-year-old boy on stage immediately bursting into grateful tears and rushing back to his mother in the square) it was easy to understand why no one had stepped up this year. Back when you had attended school, before dropping out to assist your father on his fishing boat after your mother died, Namjoon had been in some of your classes –although he very rarely showed up. He was immensely popular with everyone; in part because of his handsome physique and model like dimples, partially because of his superior intelligence, but mostly because it was well known he was by far the leader from all the kids in training.

You had never attended a training session (more fool you for thinking you would never be unlucky enough to have your name drawn, and banking on one of the girls who did train to take your place if you did) but the center near the wharf was close to where your family’s boat — that functioned as both a fishing ship and your house — was docked. During the many occasions you had walked past, you sometimes stopped to peer through a crack in the doorway and watch. A majority of the times you had seen Namjoon inside amongst the group of around twenty regulars; working out with weights, sparring with an array of weapons, or climbing the rope attached to the ceiling that was surely 30 feet high with nothing but cement to drop back down to. The years of work had turned the dimpled twelve-year-old you once shared a math class with into a lethal killing machine. And now you were going to be stuck in an arena with you as one of his targets.

You stood frozen as Namjoon strode up on stage, a grin on his face, waving to the camera before shaking the hand of the capitol’s representative — a pastel blue haired woman by the name of Periwinkle Eveweather. You could tell Periwinkle much preferred Namjoon to you from the twinkle in her eye at how well he was playing up to the camera. There would be no need for her to have to force him to act like being slaughtered like an animal was an honor, like she would for you. The next moments passed far too quickly in a blur, being lead off stage to bid farewell to your families. As you sobbed in your father’s arms, an only child saying your last goodbye, Namjoon was getting a pat on the back from his older sister, a previous volunteer and victor. Shortly after you were ushered on board to the train where you now sat, Namjoon at your side and your mentor sitting across the table.

A small part of your brain found it difficult to take Finnick Odair as a mentor seriously given he was younger than you. But your rational side was quick to silence that judgment with a reminder that exact dismissal of his age was a major contributing factor to his win three years ago. The feeling of despair ate away at your insides as Finnick took an immediate liking to Namjoon. You couldn’t blame him for it, Namjoon was by far the more likely of the two of you to survive, so it only made sense for him to put more attention on the candidate with the best chance, but it still made you feel awful none the less.

“And what about you YN?”

You jumped feeling Namjoon’s hand tapping your leg softly under the table, his head wordlessly nodding in Finnick’s direction without making any eye contact to you. You had become so distracted by the mug of tea in a decorative porcelain cup in your hands, you failed to recognize your mentor’s piercing sea green eyes were now focused on you.

“Sorry, what about my what?” you mumbled dumbly, feeling incredibly insecure at Finnick’s sigh.

“Your skills, what do you bring to the games?”

Well that explained why you had tuned out, there was no need for you to listen to Namjoon describing all the potential ways he was going to kill you within a week or so. And there were a hell of a lot of ways.

“I don’t know really, I’m not someone who’s trained like Namjoon,” you paused to think, pretending not to notice Namjoon’s smug smirk in the corner of your peripheral vision as Finnick frowned slightly.

“Neither was I, and that caused a lot of the careers to underestimate me,” Finnick replied, shooting Namjoon a pointed look which caused his smirk to disappear. You tried not to smile at that, settling instead for relaxing slightly into your seat.

“I can fish, so depending on the arena I can potentially find food, but more importantly I know my way around with a knife,” you declared, feeling a little more confident. The hopeless despair was still overwhelming but the least you could do for yourself, and your father, was to go out with honor.

“Very good,” Finnick nodded “don’t underestimate your face either.”

“My face?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “How am I supposed to kill anyone with that?”

Finnick sighed, leaning further back into the lounge he was occupying on his own, pinching the bridge of his nose on his handsome face in exasperation.

“Both of you listen, this is potentially more important than all of those little training sessions or fishing catches the both of you have ever made combined. You’re clearly genetically blessed to continue District 4’s reputation of having the most beautiful tributes, you in particular” He paused to lazily point in your direction. “If you actually want to win the games, you want the people of the capitol to adore you. And they’re a city of shallow cunts,” another pause to shoot a charming smile in Periwinkle’s direction “no offense”.

“Offense taken!” Periwinkle gasped indignantly but Finnick was already speaking over her without a care.

“And as shallow cunts what these people love, more than anything in their pathetic little vapid lives, is beauty. You,” a point to Namjoon, “have been training your whole life for this and will have a body to represent that. Show it off. They love flair, they love confidence, they love a show. Flex those biceps for them, they’ll go mad. Flash your abs and they’ll fall in love. And work those dimples, cause these suckers sure worked for me, got me a trident,” Finnick grinned to show off his smile and twin indents on each corner of his mouth, Namjoon mirrored the gesture and you felt your heart clench at how easily he seemed to turn on his charm. Tall, well built and handsome, he was just as gorgeous as Finnick. Too bad he was very likely about to be the literal death of you.

“And you,” Finnick turned his attention to your direction and you felt Namjoon’s eyes burning into you from the side “you’ll be the prettiest thing they’ve seen in years, possibly in the history of the games”

Your face flushed at the comment, even though you knew it wasn’t intended as a compliment. There was no point in sweet little lies to butter you up and the fact of the matter was you knew you had an aesthetically pleasing face. Your facial features were in perfect balance, skin clear, thick hair that fell to the middle of your back and eyes that you had been told sparkled like stars in the night.

“They’ll love that shit,” his finger lazily circled around pointing to your cheeks that were flushed in embarrassment at his candid assessment of your appearance.

“These people are so used to artificial, that something so beautiful and pure will be coveted like the fattest diamond they could possibly hang from their necks. You ever fucked a guy, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me?” you balked at the invasive question, earning a sharp laugh out of Namjoon, a scandalized shriek from Periwinkle, and an eye roll from Finnick.

“I’ll take that for a yes and don’t worry I’m not interested. The capitol thrives on corruption, greed, and a need to claim rare treasures for their own. Put an innocent little dove like you, with a face like yours, in front of them and they’ll go insane. Act right at the parade and in your interviews and you’ll have sponsors gifting you everything you could ever need in that arena”.

You sat wide eyed not even knowing how to respond. You didn’t bother with arguing over the status of your supposed virginity because whether it was true or not didn’t actually matter, it was all about the perception. If getting dolled up and fluttering your eyelashes could potentially result in a knife being dropped from the sky in the arena, you could suck it up and give these disgusting people what they wanted.

The train ride to the capitol took just under three days in total. During that time Finnick and Namjoon spent a lot of time together, which you weren’t surprised with in the least. It was only natural to favor the tribute with the better odds, as much as Finnick’s little speech on the first day tried to make you think you could have a chance. Finnick still made some time for you though, which was mostly spent on guiding you how to attract sponsors. You spent a majority of the time in your room, a lot of it crying, most of it sleeping, and some of it playing around with technologies you had never had access to before in your life. The only time you really saw Namjoon was during breakfast and dinner where you ate together with Finnick to discuss district strategy. You weren’t surprised at all by Namjoon’s plan to join the career pack, but you were slightly surprised when he spoke of you as a part of that plan. You were a little annoyed he didn’t even think to ask your opinion, but logically speaking it’s not like you had any option. It was either join them or make yourself an easy target. Plus, any alliance with Namjoon reduced your need to have kill any other tributes personally. The only thing now was to hope districts 1 and 2 were as receptive to the idea as you were.

When you arrived at the capitol you were immediately ushered into a clinic that was like a fusion between a spa and a hospital. You were stripped, examined, and assessed by a doctor before being dressed in a paper thin hospital gown. After a painful injection (“that’s your tracker dear, so the capitol can monitor you in the arena”) you were passed over to the beauty department who scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed, showered, moisturized, treated, conditioned and polished your entire body from head to toe. But at the end when you were standing before a mirror, you could see the results were worth it.

As Finnick had stated, you were already beautiful to start with, but it was like taking an uncut gem and polishing the stone to make it shine. Your hair was a couple of inches shorter with all the damage from years of saltwater being trimmed off. A treatment of conditioners you couldn’t care to remember had tamed your thick locks into smooth waves that had been layered to frame your face and flow prettily down your back. Whatever impurities that existed on your skin before had been entirely lasered away, and your whole complexion was now soft and glowing. Your eyebrows had been plucked into identical manicured arches and some sort of needled gun had permanently filled them in. A gel had been applied to your lips to boost their plumpness, without overly inflating them or drastically changing their shape, giving your mouth a cherubic quality. Staring at your reflection you raised a perfectly manicured finger to poke at your cheek, feeling the new silky smoothness beneath your fingertip, watching as your mirror image copied the action. It was surreal. You recognized the person in front of you as yourself, all of your features were still the same, but just somehow perfected?

You mostly ignored the gushing of your newly assigned stylist team — a set of triplets named Ruby, Garnet and Quartz — as they picked out garments, stretched measuring tape across and around your body and argued over what colors would bring out your eyes the best. They were sweet and well meaning with their compliments, but the growing nerves over being prepped for the chariot parade in a few hours made you unreceptive.

The concept they eventually decided on for your fishing district was ‘Rulers of the Sea’ and you were dressed in a Grecian inspired gown. The iridescent blue and green material, that sparkled like the sun reflecting off the ocean, was clasped at the top of your left shoulder with a silver broach in the shape of a starfish. Intricate embroidery was patterned around around the waist where the fabric was cinched tightly to create an overly enhanced hourglass silhouette. The bottom half flowed to your sandal clad feet and seemed to sway with the slightest of moments, a split on the right ran to the middle part of your thigh. Your eyes were a smoky combination of the colors from your dress, lashes coated in extensions and a layer of mascara to give you a seductive yet doe eyed appearance. There was a strange dichotomy in your styling where they were attempting to preserve your ‘natural’ and ‘innocent’ traits whilst simultaneously taking full advantage of the fact you were eighteen in order to market sex appeal.

Your favorite part (that you hated to admit even liking given the circumstance you were even in) was your hair. A section from each side had been pulled away and pinned at the back in a princess style, with numerous tiny clips of glowing sea shells and starfish holding it in place. Glittery extensions had been clipped in tastefully creating an appearance as if your hair was literally shining. This was then finished off by an ornate tiara placed on the top of your head.

By the time you were finished your stylists were practically in tears, fawning over you and calling you’re their greatest masterpiece. They mistook your eyes watering as pride in their work and not disgust at their pride in dressing a cow off before sending it to the slaughterhouse.

“No dear, you can’t cry and ruin all that make up we just spent so much time perfecting” Ruby chided, dabbing at your eyes with a tissue as Quartz and Garnet guided you out the door and into the small vehicle which was about to take you from the clinic to the parade. You didn’t dignify her with a response, merely grabbing the tissue from her hand as you were forced into the car. As soon as you were inside the car sped off, arriving at the destination very shortly after. From behind your tinted windows you could see horses being lead to empty chariots and your first sight of the other tributes, the people you were either going to have to kill or be killed by.

When the car stopped, Finnick was the one to open your door and offer you a hand to get out, which you accepted. As you stood up he appraisingly ran his eyes over all the details of your make-over, before nodding his approval.

“They did well,” he stated and you nodded your head in passive agreement as he dropped your hand to press his to the small of your back and guide you towards your chariot. Namjoon was already there, dressed in his own Grecian toga of the same fabric with a crown on the top of his newly styled hair. Sensing your arrival, he turned to look at you. Namjoon’s eyes widened comically before quickly composing his features almost as instantly as he had reacted. “Very well,” Finnick whispered, and you allowed an amused puff of air out.

“Your chariot awaits my dear,” Finnick said with a mock bow as he nudged you towards Namjoon, who extended his arm for you to hold on to. Not sure what else to do, you placed your hand delicately on his forearm, his other hand then coming to rest over the top. For a brief moment as Namjoon guided you both into the chariot, you could almost imagine you were a princess being taken to a ball by a handsome prince, but any such delusions were ruined by what Namjoon whispered next.

“It’s such a shame there can only be one winner, you really look good by my side.”

Your jaw clenched and you moved to rip your hand off his arm but his grip over yours instantly tightened with a laugh, as if expecting that exact reaction.

“Calm down princess, I don’t plan on killing your pretty little face for a while yet.”

You looked up at him like he was insane as the chariot began to move forward. He thought your reaction was from fear he was going to kill you now? And not that he perceived your life as only having value from being pretty enough for him? You were furious and about to rip into him before you heard the approaching roar of the crowd ahead at the end of the tunnel. Namjoon was oblivious to your rage, a perfectly poised smile, flexing his dimples that Finnick would be proud of, already painted on his face. You paused, for all you knew that could be an attempt to psych you out before facing the crowds, potentially losing you sponsor opportunities. Turning away from Namjoon, you took a deep breath to try and compose yourself. You plastered the docile soft-smiled wide eyed expression on your face that you had practiced with Finnick on the train, as your carriage emerged form the tunnel and onto the road lined with screaming spectators.

The entire parade was a blur of flashing lights, fireworks, thunderous cheering and echoes from the microphone that distorted whatever message the president greeted you with. By the time your chariot returned to the tunnel your mind was entirely blank but with the satisfied nod from Finnick as he waited to welcome you both back, you knew you had done well.

“If District 2 is anything to go by then you’ve won yourself a lot of admirers tonight” Finnick practically sang as he helped you down. Confused by his words you turned around looking for the other district to see the duo from two, the carriage over from yours. Dressed in gladiator styled garments, that was common from them every year, the girl was fiddling with a ruby dagger (you hoped was just a prop) whilst the boy was staring straight at you. ‘Boy’ was the wrong word to describe him, as he definitely had to have been the same age as you, if anything he looked slightly more mature than the legal age to even be here. He was tall, though not as tall as Namjoon, and lithe. Beneath a decorative breastplate you could see his sun kissed golden skin adorned with the toned definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. His face was incredibly handsome, by far the most handsome of any of the male tributes. Rich copper hair had been styled to frame his aristocratic features; a high bridged pointed nose, high cheekbones, sharp jawline and rich dark chocolate brown eyes that were intently focused on you.

“Speaking to other tributes before training is technically not allowed, but it’s enforced the same way as your training centers are, so not at all. You’ve got five minutes until those cars arrive to take you to the living quarters, go talk to the careers and work out an alliance,” You broke the eye contact to look at Finnick as he spoke, clearly having witnessed your little interaction.

Namjoon took the lead, confidently stepping off the carriage with a winning smile and striding towards the pair from two. With a sigh you hitched up the long material of your dress and followed behind him. You could still feel the male’s eyes burning into your skull as you looked across to notice the pair from District 1 also making their way over — their own mentor likely having given them the same advice as your own.

“I’m Namjoon and this is YN,” you weren’t particularly pleased by Namjoon deciding to speak on your behalf, but chose to roll your eyes behind him rather than interrupting. “We’re interested in continuing a long standing tradition of successful career pack alliances. I assume from you joining us over here, that you are as well.”

“I would typically say that to assume only makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’, but in this instance you are correct,” the other male from District 1 spoke. You tried to stifle a laugh, but the warning glare Namjoon shot you from the corner of his eye told you that it wasn’t successful. You merely smiled back and blinked innocently with a shrug.

“My name’s Yoongi, and an alliance would be in all of our best interests.” He was shorter than Namjoon and District 2, only an inch or two taller than yourself, but somehow still just as intimidating. His pale skin was contrasted by pitch black hair and sharp coal like eyes that were openly assessing the group of you.

“Krystal,” his district mate offered by means of introduction, and you wondered if the two were siblings. She shared his light complexion, dark eyes and her sleek midnight hair was dead straight down past her waist. Both were dressed in black, their outfits embodying the luxury their district was known for; Yoongi in a tailored suit with subtle embroidery detail, Krystal in an elegant fitted gown made of the same fabric, both topped off with luxurious fur capes draped over their shoulders.

“I’m Athena and he’s Hoseok,” the girl from two spoke. She appeared to be the same height as Yoongi but you noticed a heel on her sandals giving her an extra few inches. You couldn’t bring yourself to look across to Hoseok, knowing his gaze still hadn’t broken since staring at you from the carriage.

“Is that real?” you asked, gesturing towards the dagger Athena had been playing with before that was now held limply in her right hand.

“Why don’t we find out,” she replied with a smirk, instantly flipping the dagger in her hands to point the tip between your eyes.

“Athena!” Hoseok hissed dangerously, slapping the dagger from her hands and cause it to fall onto the ground below. The lack of metallic ‘clang’ revealing it as fake.

“Calm down, it was a joke!” Athena snapped back, reaching down to pick it back up, whilst shaking her head in annoyance. Before you could assure her it was fine, Hoseok stepped forward to present you with his own version of the prop. Reaching out he grabbed your wrist to place the ‘dagger’ in your hand.

“See, the material is just a type of fiber that gives the illusion of metal, but is really not hard at all.” Gently he ran the blade along your palm, and true to his word there was no edge at all. But the image still looked real and seeing a blade dancing across your skin, knowing someone was going to try to kill you with a real one very soon, made you feel ill. Sensing your discomfort from the trembling hand, Hoseok immediately pocketed the knife, but still maintained his hold on your wrist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” he spoke softly and you frantically looked to the others to see if they could hear him. Namjoon who was the closest merely looked amused, Athena was showing Yoongi the fake dagger, whilst Krystal had her eyebrow raised in your direction.

“I hope not,” you awkwardly tried to joke, pulling your wrist slightly to subtly try and break the hold, but he only tightened his grip forcing you to look up and back into his eyes again. His gaze from a distance had already been intense but up close it was heart stopping. There was a passion in his eyes you had never seen before in your life and it was solely focused entirely on you. It was frightening, you couldn’t imagine what you had possibly done to warrant being on the receiving end of something so intense. You tilted your head down and away from the others, humiliated over being so easily intimidated. If an attractive man holding your wrist and making eye contact with you was all it took to fluster you, you may as well just sign your own death certificate now.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, dropping your wrist to place his finger on your chin and raise your head back upwards, though you kept your eyes lowered, staring at his jawline to avoid direct eye contact again.

“I’m promise I won’t hurt you, love. Not now, not ever.”

You were about to ask him how he could possibly say something like that given you were about to become direct competitors in a battle to the death, when a sharp whistle stole your attention. Snapping your head to the side you saw Finnick jerk his head, indicating for you and Namjoon to return. You exhaled in relief, grateful for the reprieve.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Namjoon said to the group, moving next to you and causing Hoseok to pull his hand away. You nodded to show your agreement with Namjoon whilst making eye contact with the other three you barely had a chance to speak to. You hoped they didn’t think that you were somehow forming something just with Hoseok based on his actions. You were going to need all the help you possibly could get if you wanted a chance to survive.

“Tomorrow,” Krystal agreed, making proper eye contact with you for the first time. She was smaller in height than you, thinner too, but somehow carried a cold and intimidating aura. You offered her a polite smile in return and a nod, relieved when she nodded back, before you returned to Finnick with Namjoon.

“How did it go? Looked pretty good” Finnick asked just as the capitol vehicle pulled up to take you to the tribute quarters.

“It seems our little dove here won’t just have the capitol for an admirer,” Namjoon smirked, getting into the car.

“So I saw,” Finnick muttered as a reply to Namjoon’s back, then turned to face you.

“Don’t let him psych you out,” he said, stepping aside so you could follow Namjoon into the vehicle.

You glanced at Namjoon before turning back to see Hoseok standing by his car but staring directly at you again. His eyes were still radiating the same intense passion from moments ago, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Who?” you whispered back to Finnick, ducking your head as you stepped inside. Finnick moved to shut the door.

“Both of them”

This is basically an introductory chapter to gauge reception. Future updates should be longer. I have the whole fic plotted and the outline itself is 5.9K words and this chapter was only based on the first paragraph. The next update will focus on the training sessions/interview with Caesar and the update after should be the one where they actually enter the arena.

Feedback is much loved, but please avoid asking for updates. I don’t have a schedule but I do have crippling depression so I write when the motivation hits lol

#yandere hoseok #yandere bts #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #yandere bts fic #hunger games au #hoseok fic #hoseok au #hoseok x you #yandere jung hoseok #yandere #dark jhope #dark bts #dark bts au

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ketamineharry · 3 years

Text

Rose Pt 2 - Joshua Bradley

Requested: No, this is the second part of the Doctor Who au. This part is slightly longer than the first at an almost 3,000 word count. I really do hope you enjoy this as it has taken me forever to write it. Lots of love, as always xx

You sat in your front room, the familiar domestic style of your ordinary life being a vast difference from the experience that you were dragged into mere hours ago. Your mum, Jackie, as much as you loved her… was always a bit over the top, always had something to say or brag about. Always wanted the Earth to centre around her.

“The whole of Central London has been closed off as police investigate the fire. Early reports indicate.” The news reporter stated. The anxiety and severity of the situation, hadn’t yet sunk in. You were barely able to keep a track of your own thoughts.

You slumped down into the sofa, hoping that if you slipped down far enough, that it would swallow you whole and that you wouldn’t have to continue processing what had gone on. It was crazy to even think about, and you couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because as the Doctor had stated, it would get them killed. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the saying goes.

“I know. It’s on the telly. It’s everywhere. She’s lucky to be alive. Honestly, it’s aged her. Skin like an old bible. Walking in now, you’d think I was her daughter. Oh, and here’s himself.”

Your boyfriend, Mickey flopped down on the sofa with you. His face is the picture of concern, as he takes your hand in his.

“I’ve been phoning your mobile. You could’ve been dead. It was on the news and everything. I can’t believe that the shop went up!” He exclaimed, his voice frantic. Laced with worry. His eyes searched your face for some sort of answer, some sort of explanation.

“I’m alright, honestly, I’m fine! Don’t make a fuss.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I don’t know!” You exclaimed, frustrated with the fact that you couldn’t tell your boyfriend. The one person you were supposed to confide in, with everything.

“What was it though? What caused it?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the shop.”

“It’s Debbie on the end. She knows a man from the Mirror. Five hundred quid for an interview.” Jackie said, her excitement clear.

“Oh, that’s brilliant! Give it here.” You said, as you snatched the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call. The measures that you were having to undertake to protect people were beginning to mount up.

“Well you’ve got to find some way of making money. Your job’s kaput and I’m not bailing you out.” She told you, quite matter-of-factly.

The phone rang again, your eventful night being the gossip of the tower block so it seemed. You just wanted to be able to go to bed and try to forget about it. But, you couldn’t do that, until everyone that knew you, or knew of you was reassured that you were safe.

“Bev! She’s alive. I told her sue for compensation. She was within seconds of death.” Jackie said, as she made her way through the flat, presumably so that she could work herself up and get excited and not have you bring her down about it.

“What’re you drinking, tea? Nah, nah, that’s no good, that’s no good. You’re in shock. You need something stronger.” Mickey said, trying to convince you to come out, for an alcoholic beverage. As much as you would usually be down for it, the thought of having to face even more people with even more questions, was exhausting.

“I’m alright.”

“Now come on, you deserve a proper drink. We’re going down the pub, you and me. My treat. How about it?” He asked, as he playfully pleaded with you.

“Is there a match on?”

“No, I’m just thinking about you babe.” He stated, simply.

“There’s a match on ain’t there.” You said playfully, a broad smile spreading across your face. The small normality of your boyfriend trying to persuade you to go to the pub with him, so he could get drunk and watch the football, was a comfort that you didn’t know that you needed.

“That’s not the point, but we could catch the last five minutes.”

“Go on, then. I’m fine, really. Go. Get rid of that.” You instructed him, as you threw him the plastic arm that the Doctor had pulled off of the mannequin a few hours beforehand. You just needed it out of your house, so that you could continue to try and live in some sort of normality and repress the memories of what the afternoon and the evening had presented you with.

Mickey quickly gives you a soft kiss, before taking the arm and getting ready to leave.

“Bye, bye.”

“Bye.” You respond, as you gave him a small wave.

As Mickey was leaving, he pretended to strangle himself with the arm. He would never know just how chilling that imagery would be for you, and you could never explain. Or else get him killed. For the safety of everyone you knew, you had to pretend that you were fine and you had to pretend that you knew nothing. Quite the burden to carry on your emotionally exhausted shoulders.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock, blaring beside you. Begrudgingly, you stopped the sound and went to get out of your bed.

“There’s no point in getting up, sweetheart. You’ve got no job to go to.” Jackie’s voice called. Sending you into a vivid reminder of what had happened the night before. Perhaps, it would be best to go back to sleep for a little while.

You were sitting at the dinner table with Jackie, discussing your future or what was left of it. You had to find another job, but everything that was available or was suggested to you, just didn’t seem like the right fit. You couldn’t force yourself to work somewhere, when it just wouldn’t work. You just weren't that type of person.

“There’s Finch’s. You could try them. They’ve always got jobs.” She suggested. You knew that she was just trying to be helpful, but there was no way that you could work in a butchers.

“Oh, great. The butchers.” You groaned. You were fed up of trying to sound grateful for each suggestion, because they weren’t helpful and these weren’t jobs you could see yourself enjoying. After all, she was your mum and you had hoped she would’ve known you better than this by now.

“Well, it might do you good. That shop was giving you airs and graces. And I’m not joking about compensation. You’ve had genuine shock and trauma. Arianna got two thousand quid off the council just because the old man behind the desk said she looked Greek! I know she is Greek, but that’s not the point. It was a valid claim.” She said, as she danced her way back into her bedroom.

Once Jackie was in her bedroom, the cat flap at the bottom of the front door began to rattle. A telltale sign that although you had instructed her to pin the cat flap down, because you didn’t want to have strays coming into the tiny flat, that she had in fact not listened to you. As it seemed like the cat flap was able to move freely, for it to be making all of that noise.

“Mum, you’re such a liar. I told you to nail that cat flap down. We’re going to get strays.” You complained.

“I did it weeks back!” She protested.

“No, you thought about it.”

As you bent down to try and see what was going on, you noticed four silver nails sitting comfortably on the floor. Something had managed to unscrew all of them to be able to try and get through the cat flap. Without warning, it moved. Cautiously, you pushed the cat flap back, in an attempt to see what was going on, on the other side of your door. It wasn’t a total surprise to see the Doctor, the stranger that had saved your life the night before on the other side. Quickly, you rose to your feet and opened the door for him.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, confused.

“I live here.”

“Well, what do you do that for?”

“Because I do. I’m only at home because someone blew up my job.” You explained, a slight hint of anger to your tone.

“I must have got the wrong signal. You’re not plastic, are you?” He asked, as he made a fist with his hand and gently tapped it against your head a couple of times. “No, bone head. Bye then.”

“You. Inside. Right now.” You instructed him, as you took his arm and successfully pulled him into the flat.

“Who is it?” Jackie asked, from her bedroom.

“It’s about last night. He’s part of the inquiry. Give us ten minutes.” You explained as you walked past her room.

The Doctor stood in the doorway, you couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but it seemed like Jackie had attempted to try and make a flirtatious advance onto him, which he had rejected.

As he joined you in the living room area, you felt a sense of shame. The clutter of your everyday life was on show. From magazines, to a deck of cards, the television set sat proudly in the corner of the room. The domesticity seemed alien to him. Like, he didn’t have any of these things himself and it concerned you. Perhaps, he was just some loner who in playing the hero had gotten himself attached to you and now you had let him into your house.

“Don’t mind the mess. Do you want a coffee?” You asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

“Might as well, thanks. Just milk.”

“We should go to the police. Seriously. Both of us.” You suggested, as you tried to think of a way to end the nightmare that you had found yourself residing in.

“That won’t last. He’s gay and she’s an alien.” You heard him mumble.

“I’m not blaming you, even if it was some sort of sick joke that went wrong.” You said, in an attempt at comforting him.

“Hmm. Sad ending.”

“They said on the news that they found a body.” You told him.

“Y/N Tyler.”

“Ah. Could’ve been worse, look at the ears.”

“All the same, he was nice. Nice bloke.” You said, as you continued trying to explain Wilson to him, but it seemed like he either wasn’t all that interested or couldn’t hear you.

You could hear that he was trying, and had failed to shuffle a deck of playing cards.

“Luck be a lady.”

“Anyway, if we are going to the police, I want to know what I’m saying.” You began, only stopping as you heard the deck of cards he was attempting to shuffle, fall to the floor. “I want you to explain everything.” You continued.

“Maybe not.”

He stops for a moment, as if he was trying to observe something. A silence from him, he failed to even explain his actions any longer.

“What’s that then? Have you got a cat?” He asked you, as he attempted to try and figure out what was going on.

“No.” You answered simply, as you finished up making the coffees. “We did have, but now they’re just strays. They come in off the estate.” You continued, as you picked up the two mugs of coffee and bought them into the living room with you. You placed them down on the coffee table in front of you, finally taking in the mess that was your living room.

“I told Mickey to chuck that out. You’re all the same. Give a man a plastic hand. Anyway, I don’t even know your name. Doctor what was it?” You asked, no sooner than you had. The plastic arm had attached itself to your face. You were barely, still able to breathe.

The Doctor, quick on his feet, pulled at it. Which only made matters worse, as he did, you both fell onto and crashed through the glass coffee table. Pieces of glass, and other matter flew everywhere as your bodies collided with it. He decides to use the metallic device that he had used the previous night to open the fire exit door, which finally pulls the arm off of your face. He then jabs the device into the palm of the hand, which stops the fingers from moving. The life from the object, seemed to have been drained.

“It’s alright, I’ve stopped it. There you go, you see. Armless.” He explained.

“Do you think?” You asked him, as you hit him with it.

“Ow.”

As soon as the Doctor had come, he was off again. But, you couldn’t let him leave until you had some sort of answers. A clear story in your head if you will. So, you decided to follow him down the stairwell.

“Hold on a minute. You can’t just go swanning off.” You protested.

“Yes I can. Here I am. This is me, swanning off. See ya.”

“But that arm was moving, it tried to kill me.” You said, voice raised slightly from a mixture of fear and annoyance.

“Ten out of ten for observation.”

“You can’t just walk away. That’s not fair. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.” You all but begged. Once you had the answers, you could easily drop it and go on with your normal everyday life, treating the cause of these events as some sort of anomaly.

“No I don’t.” He stated simply.

You had found yourself outside, still chasing after him.

“All right, then. I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell everyone. You said, if I did that I’d get people killed. So, your choice. Tell me, or I’ll start talking.” You threatened. Which caused him to stop and turn around, allowing you to catch up to him a little bit.

“Is that supposed to sound tough?” He asked, flippantly.

“Sort of.”

“Doesn’t work.”

“Who are you?” You asked.

“Told you, the Doctor.”

“Yeah, but Doctor what?” You questioned.

“Just the Doctor.”

“The Doctor.” You repeated.

“Hello.”

“Is that supposed to sound impressive?” You asked.

“Sort of.”

“Come on, then. You can tell me. I’ve seen enough. Are you the police?” You enquired.

“No, I was just passing through. I’m a long way from home.”

“But what have I done wrong? How comes those plastic things are after me?” You couldn’t quite understand it all. It all just seemed a bit much. From your understanding, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet, these things still seemed to want to haunt you.

“Oh, suddenly the entire world revolves around you. You were just an accident. You got in the way, that’s all.” He explained.

“It tried to kill me.”

“It was after me, not you. Last night, in the shop, I was there, you blundered in, almost ruined the whole thing. This morning I was tracking it down, it was tracking me down. The only reason it fixated on you, is ‘cos you’ve met me.”

“So what you’re saying is, the entire world revolves around you.” You stated sarcastically.

“Sort of, yeah.”

“You’re full of it.” You teased.

“Sort of, yeah.”

“But all this plastic stuff, who else knows about it?” You asked, your inquisitive nature getting the better of you.

“No one.”

“What, you’re on your own?”

“Well, who else is there? I mean, you lot, all you do is eat chips, go to bed and watch telly, while all the while underneath you there’s a war going on.” He explained.

“Ok. Start from the beginning. I mean, if we are going to go with the living plastic, and I don’t even believe that, but if we do, how’d you kill it?”

“The thing controlling it projects life into the arm. I killed the signal dead.”

“So, that’s radio control?” You asked.

“Thought control. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. So who’s controlling it then?”

“Long story.”

“But what’s it all for? I mean shop window dummies, what’s that all about? Is someone trying to take over Britain’s shops?” You questioned, with a slight giggle.

“No.”

“It’s not a price war. They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you. Do you believe me?” He queried.

“No.” You responded simply.

“But you’re still listening.”

“Really though Doctor, tell me. Who are you?” You asked. He took your hand in his before answering

“Do you know like we were saying about the Earth revolving? It’s like when you’re a kid. The first time they tell you that the world’s turning and you can’t quite believe it because everything looks like it’s standing still. I can feel it. The turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. We’re falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world and if we let go.” He began, as he let go of your hand.

“That’s who I am, now forget me Y/N Tyler. Go home.” He instructed, as he headed towards a blue police box with the arm in tow.

You turn around, deciding to go to Mickey’s as luckily he had a computer. Before you could go much further though, you heard a strange noise. You looked back over your shoulder to see that the police box was gone, something was definitely going on and you needed to find out what.

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Early Christmas Gifts

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,730 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I’m in a Connor mood and it’s December. Sue me. Enjoy! -Thorne

She sat beside the old man in the rocking chair, occasionally sipping the tea she’d made. The first snows of December dusted the ground and while it was absolutely freezing, it was too much of a beautiful day to stay in.

Her eyes drifted over to the old man who quietly flipped through the book he held. “Achilles, should I get you another blanket?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m going to head inside in a few moments anyway, (Y/N).”

She nodded and shifted her gaze to the masts of the Aquila. “Is Ratonhnhaké:ton in today?”

“Should be,” Achilles said. “but you know him. He goes where the wind takes him.”

(Y/N) hummed. “I think it’s more of he goes where curiosity takes him.”

The old man snorted and snapped the book shut. “He is curious.” She nodded, thinking it was the end of the conversation—Achilles was a man of few words. “He’s curious about you.”

Her head shot up and she gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

Achilles merely offered her a knowing smile before rising to his feet. “I’m going inside for a nap.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opened and closed. “Wait, Achilles, he’s what about me?”

“Figure it out yourself. You’re not a fool.” He waved her off, the closing of the backdoor the real signature of the conversation closing.

Brows furrowing, she bent over, her hands pressed to her cheeks. “Well, I know I’m not a fool, but what am I supposed to do?” Her face pinched and she argued, “I feel for him, but does that mean he’s curious about that? Or is he curious about colonial women in general? And to what end?” (Y/N) groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, this isn’t good. Curse that old man for leaving me with a riddle like this.”

“Like what?” A voice sounded above her and (Y/N) screeched like a banshee. In her mild hysteria she jerked back, the chair going with her and she tumbled over. She faceplanted onto the back porch and lay there for a moment before letting out a heavy groan.

“Owwww!” she whined, and hands gripped her upper arms, lifting her up as if she were put a feather. She wiggled when they had her in the air. “Put me down! I am not a sack of potatoes!” They did as she asked, gently setting her down and she spun on them, immediately turning into a flustered mess. “Ratonhnhaké:ton? What? What are you doing here?”

His dark brows furrowed. “I live here.”

No? Really? I couldn’t tell. (Y/N) almost rolled her eyes and started picking the chair up, but Connor did it for her. “I thought you’d be out hunting or…whatever it is you do, you know…with your free time.” Nice conversing (Y/N), that’s really going to spur him into fancying you.

“I was hunting earlier.” He said, folding the blanket that had fallen from her lap.

“Did you catch anything?” she inquired, taking the blanket when he held it out.

“I skinned a wolf and an elk.”

(Y/N) perked up at that. “Did you save the meat?” He nodded. “I can make dinner with that.” She threw the blanket over her shoulder. “Oh! I could make elk jerky too!” She smiled. “You can take it with you to snack on when you leave.”

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “I would appreciate that greatly.”

Her cheeks warmed and she let out a ‘pfft’, hoping it would ease her embarrassment. Instead, she focused on, “So, what are you going to do with the hides?”

Connor opened the door for her, letting her inside first. “I will most likely make belts with the leather and make blades with the antlers.”

“I bet those would be nice to have.” She agreed, walking into the kitchen. He followed her, watching as she opened up the wax cloth. (Y/N) grabbed one of the knives from the rack and started slicing the elk meat but stopped when she felt his eyes.

“…Do you want to help me, Ratonhnhaké:ton?” her question was quiet, as if she were in the middle of a circle of deer.

“Would you like my help?”

The response almost made her glare at him, but the look on his face held genuine earnest.

“There’s some potatoes and onions outside. See if you can harvest any…please.” Connor smiled at her, and her face felt hot.

“I will be right back.” He spun on his heel and exited the kitchen. The second the door closed, (Y/N) dropped her head on the kitchen counter and let out a groan. She was in way too deep. And somewhere in the manor, she could swear she heard Achilles laughing at her.

***

The entire week was as chaotic and she had managed to avoid Connor at every turn, but it was getting harder and harder to excuse herself when he found her. Of course, she’d eventually backed herself into a corner, and by backing herself into a corner, she’d actually wandered too far into the surrounding forests of the Homestead and got herself lost. In her defense, she was looking for the hound that had run off.

She shivered violently, puffs of air coming out in shimmering crystal clouds, as she trudged through the knee-high snow. For the life of her she couldn’t remember what her father had taught her as a child. Do I stay put or keep moving? (Y/N) stopped and looked up, the full moon stared back at her. Keep moving right? Tracks mean someone can follow. Following is good, yes? A lump rose in her throat and the chilly air made the tears sting her eyes, but she kept moving. Fear was definitely not something she did needed right now. She needed to stay focused and most importantly, she needed to stay calm.

Her fingers felt like they were frozen solid, and she shoved them inside her coat, just under her arms. As long as she could still feel, she was okay. But time was against her, and with every passing second, she lost the feeling in her toes and it kept stretching, until it was at her thighs. (Y/N) took a heavy step and upon hitting a deeper bank than she realized, she stumbled over, rolling down the small hill.

She lay there in the snow, too tired to move. The cold bit into her cheeks and nose but she didn’t care. This is it. she thought. I’m going to freeze to death in the middle of a forest. Her fingers twitched and she heaved, pulling herself up to her knees, but that was all the energy she could gather. (Y/N) buried her face in her arms and curled as tight as she could, hoping it would preserve heat. It did little compared to how freezing it was.

Time passed by and her mind became hazy, but most concerningly, she started becoming warm. That’s a bad sign. (Y/N) vaguely remembered. Even I know that. She couldn’t feel her fingers now, nor her toes, and her pants were so soaked she could feel the chill to the bone.

Through the cloud in her mind, she thought she heard footsteps her way, but wrote it off as possible hallucinations until she heard, “(Y/N)!”

She picked her head up, brows furrowing as she looked around her. Finally, she caught sight of a familiar coat of blue and white coming her way rather quickly. Okay, now I’m really hallucinating.

Connor slid to a stop in front of her, his hands coming to cup her cheeks. They were so warm that they burned; a whine left her throat. “(Y/N), I have been looking everywhere for you.”

(Y/N) nodded weakly. “The dog ran off…was trying to…find it.” her words had started slurring and through her heavy-lidded gaze, she could see panic setting onto Connor’s face.

He pulled the leather bag off his back and opened it, pulling out a leather coat. Getting to work, he moved (Y/N)’s arms, settling it on her. The sleeves were fur lined and she sighed audibly.

He stared at her. “Do you think you can you stand?”

(Y/N) shook her head, or at least that’s what she thought she did. “No…no I don’t…think so.”

Connor immediately put his arm around her back, the other going under her legs. He picked her up and she found herself pressed up against his chest. (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder, her face pressed close to his neck. He was so warm compared to her.

“(Y/N)? Are you awake?”

She moaned lowly, pressing her face to his skin. He twitched slightly at how chilled her lips were.

“I need you to try and stay awake. Can you do that?”

Wanting to laugh, but not capable, she let out a huff. “Keep me…awake.”

His chest rumbled and she felt it. “I made something with those pelts.”

“Mhm?” she mumbled.

“I made this jacket and lined it with the wolf fur.”

“So that’s why…it’s so warm.”

Connor nodded. “I made it for you.”

“For me?”

“You talked about the presents on…” he went silent.

“Christ…mas?”

“Yes, that. You said you exchanged gifts with the ones you love on that day.” His grip tightened. “I was going to give it to you then.”

(Y/N) felt a smile on her lips. “I guess…I got it…early then.” She hummed. “Any other…gifts?”

“I made you a knife.”

That actually cleared up her mind a bit. “…What?”

Connor snorted. “You said it would be nice to have one a week earlier when I returned with the antlers and hides.”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton…I meant for you.”

“Oh…I see.”

She let out a long sigh. “But I still…want it.”

“That’s good.” She knew he was smiling again. He shook her gently. “We’re almost back to the homestead, (Y/N). Stay awake a little longer.”

“‘m cold.” She muttered.

“I know you are.” He grunted, stepping over a fallen log. “Once we get back, you can curl up in front of the fireplace.”

“Yours.” (Y/N) mumbled against his neck.

“…Mine?”

She nodded. “Wanna be…with you.”

Connor went silent a moment, then he whispered, “Do you care for me, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t trust herself to say anything, so she simply nodded and hummed.

“I…care for you too.”

A lazy grin worked onto her lips and Connor could feel it. “I’m…glad.” (Y/N) sighed. “Thank you…for finding me, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

“Always, (Y/N).”

#connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway #ac3 #ac3 imagine #ac3 imagines #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #assassins creed 3 #assassins creed 3 imagines #assassins creed 3 imagine #ac imagines #ac imagine #achilles davenport

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paulinedorchester · 3 years

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Mosley, Leonard. Backs to the Wall: London Under Fire, 1939-1954. London: George Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1971; reprint, as Backs to the Wall: The Heroic Story of the People of London During World War II, New York: Random House, 1971.

Each generation gets the history that it needs — or wants, or demands. That’s what kept going through my head as I read Backs to the Wall, which appeared three years after France’s youth explicitly rejected both Charles de Gaulle, the self-appointed leader of the Free French during World War II, and the political ideology that he represented, and amidst ongoing unrest over the Vietnam War. (It’s also worth mentioning that it was published in the same year as Norman Longmate’s How We Lived Then: A History of Everyday Life During the Second World War and two years after Angus Calder’s The People’s War.) This book gives up a World War II narrative in which Churchill was an improvement on Chamberlain only in that he wasn’t an appeaser, de Gaulle was worse than both of them put together, the Allied leaders all cordially loathed each other, half the British public wanted to sue for peace, and there was across-the-board mutual dislike between London civilians and American troops (and British dismay at the way African-American troops were treated by their white counterparts was far from universal). Do I exaggerate? Only slightly. Backs to the Wall is a sort of distant, city-specific pre-echo of Juliet Gardner’s sour 2004 book Wartime: Britain, 1939-45.

As with Wartime, however, this book does have the virtue of introducing us to a number of very interesting people. I became interested in reading it because it brought Vere Hodgson’s wartime diary to public attention. Mosley quotes or paraphrases Hodgson’s writing from the beginning of the war through its end, and also seems to have interviewed her extensively. His primary villain, meanwhile, is not Chamberlain but Chamberlain’s chief acolyte, Henry “Chips” Channon, from whose diary he quotes widely (and who turns out to have been born and raised in the United States, to my surprise). We hear a great deal from the chemist and novelist C.P. Snow and follow the misadventures of two civilians, Jenny Martin and Polly Wright, whose consistency in both bad luck and bad choices meant that neither of them was able to stay out of serious trouble for any length of time.

There are many glimpses of the London home front through the eyes of two boys, both eight when the war began: John Hardiman, of Canning Town and later of Aldgate, who was evacuated in 1939 but soon returned to London, and Donald Ketley of Chadwell Heath, who was never evacuated at all. Donald, who thoroughly enjoyed himself during the war, had an experience that speaks to our own recent reality:

Another good thing: quite early in the Blitz, his school had been totally destroyed by a bomb. Since Donald was shy, a poor student and unpopular with his teacher, he was overjoyed when he heard the place was gone. Thereafter he went each day to his teacher’s home to pick up lessons, which he brought back the next day for marking. In the following months he changed from a poor student to an excellent one, and although he was aware that his teacher rather resented it, he didn’t care.

Mosley also introduces us to Archibald McIndoe, the real-life counterpart of Patrick Jamieson, Bill Patterson’s character in the Foyle’s War episode ‘Enemy Fire.’ Art seems to have imitated life pretty accurately in that instance: he and his burn hospital in East Grinstead were apparently exactly like what was depicted, the only difference being that the hospital was set up in an existing hospital building, not in a requisitioned stately home.

Backs to the Wall seems to have been one of the earliest books to make substantial use of Mass-Observation writings. Most M-O diaries are anonymous, but there are two named diarists here who stand out. John James Donald was a committed pacifist whose air of lofty detachment as he observes the reactions of those around him to air-raids and other wartime event and prepares for his tribunal — which, in the end, he decides not to attend — quickly grows irritating. More interesting is Rosemary Black, a 28-year-old widow, in no small part because she differs markedly from what I had thought of as the archetypical M-O writer. Here’s her self-description on M-O documents: “Upper-middle-class; mother of two children (girls aged 3 and 2); of independent means.” Mosley continues:

She lived in a trim three-story house in a quiet street of the fashionable part of Maida Vale, a short taxi ride from the center of the West End, whose restaurants and theatres she knew well. She was chic and attractive, and lacked very few of the niceties of life: there was Irene, a Hungarian refugee, to look after the children; Helen, a Scottish maid, to look after herself and the house; and a daily cleaning woman to do the major chores.

Black took her children out of London at the beginning of the war but quickly brought them back, and when bombs began falling she kept them in place — air raids might be disruptive for them, but apparently relocation had been worse. She was very much aware that she was riding out the war in a position of privilege, and she often expressed guilt feelings; but this tended to fade away before her irritation at the dominance of “the muddling amateur or the soulless bureaucrat” in the war effort. Offering her services, even as a volunteer, proved very frustrating. “She was young, strong and willing; she typed, spoke languages, was an expert driver and had taken a course in first aid,” Mosley tells us, “but finding a job even as a chauffeur was proving difficult” in September 1940. (She actually wasn’t all that strong physically: as we learn, she suffered from rheumatism which grew worse during the war years and probably affected her outlook.)

Black was greeted with “apathy and indifference” by both A.R.P. and the Women’s Voluntary Service. Early in 1941 she was finally able to get a place handing out tea, sandwiches, cake, and so on to rescue and clean-up workers at bomb sites from a Y.M.C.A. mobile canteen. She was a bit intimidated by the women with whom she found herself working:

Their class is right up to the county family level. Nearly everyone is tall above the average and remarkably hefty, even definitely large, not necessarily fat but broad and brawny. Perhaps this is something to do with the survival of the fittest.

And the work did bring her some satisfaction, even if it was of the type that lent itself to being recorded with tongue placed firmly in cheek:

We had a pleasant and uneventful day’s work serving City fire sites, the General Post Office, demolition workers and Home Guard Stations, etc. We were complimented at least half a dozen times on the quality of our tea ... I think the provision of saccharine for the tea urns to compensate for the mean sugar allowance is my most successful piece of war work. What did you do in the Great War, Mummy? Sneaked pills into the tea urns, darling.

For all her good humor and astute observations, Mrs. Black was far from immune to tiny-mindedness. After an evening out in 1943 she wrote:

I had to wait some time for the others in the cinema foyer, and I was much struck, as often before, by the almost complete absence of English people these days, from the capital of England. Almost every person who came in was either a foreigner, a roaring Jew, or both. The Cumberland [Hotel] has always been a complete New Jerusalem, but this evening it really struck me as no worse than anywhere else! It is really dismaying to see that this should be the result of this war in defence of our country.

Indeed, Mosley cites the results of a multi-year Mass-Observation study that showed a marked increase in anti-Jewish views London’s general population over the course of the war. Since it’s just one study, and since I haven’t seen that study mentioned anywhere else, I am reluctant to trust blindly in its accuracy; and there’s also this:

The small flat which George [Hardiman] had procured for [his family] ... in Aldgate was cleaner and airier than the old house in Canning Town [which had been bombed], and the little Jewish children with whom John now went to school seemed to be cleaner than the ones in Elm Road; at any rate, he no longer came home with nits in his hair.

On the other hand, Mosley himself gives us only a fragmentary view of London’s wartime Jewish population: everyone seems to be either a terrified refugee or an impoverished East Ender. We hear nothing about the substantial middle- and upper-middle class population — mostly of German descent and in some cases German birth — that had already taken shape in Northwest London; and while we are briefly introduced to Sir David Waley, a Treasury official, in connection with the case of an interned Jewish refugee, we aren’t told that Waley himself was Jewish, a member of “the cousinhood.” On yet a third hand, Mosley also quotes other M-O surveys from the same period that indicate largely hostile attitudes to most foreigners in London, with Poles at the bottom of the ladder and the small Dutch contingent on top. (Incidentally, the book’s extremely patchy index identifies Vere Hodgson as a Mass-Observation diarist, which she wasn’t.)

Backs to the Wall closes with a very brief, remarkably non-partisan account of the 1945 general election and its immediate aftermath. “Neither side had any inkling of the way the minds of the British voters were turning,” he writes.

When [Churchill’s] friends suggested that he was a victim of base ingratitude, he shook his head. He would not have such a charge leveled against his beloved countrymen. Ingratitude? "Oh, no," he said quietly, "I wouldn’t call it that. They have had a very hard time."

The book is worth reading for the primary materials that it includes, but it probably tells us as much about the era in which it was written as about the period that it covers.

#world war II #u.k. home front #london #non-fiction after the fact #recommended with reservations #long post

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/74036610

Chapter 54

Nick was sorry for leaving Arthur, but he was also glad to go out at nighttime, so nobody would see him walk around - and if his band and Virgil were still asleep, they wouldn’t notice that he was gone.

Anyway, when he left the hatch, he found that all his hopes had been in vain.

Tonight of all nights, the street was crowded with Bobbies. He wondered if it was because of the gig, because his fans went rampage after it.

Hiding in an alley, he warily eyed the tall men patrolling. They were usually nice, he thought, but now he had a bad feeling and he didn’t know why.

He sneaked along the alley, finding that even his breath was too loud. When he turned the corner, a Bobby was promptly also turning the corner from the other side, and both of them stared at each other for a moment.

“Mr. Lightbearer“, the taller man shouted and fastened his steps. “Wait!“

He alerted even more Bobbies that were near.

“Mr. Lightbearer!“, Nick now heard from everywhere, alongside with he pattering of footsteps into his direction.

He panicked and ran. It was horrible. Whenever he ran along a narrow street, there were at least two directions the Bobbies could come from. And when he considered the options why they probably chased him, he felt even worse. Cowering in a dark entrance of a shop, he watched the Constables gather at a crossing nearby. He prayed for them to walk in the other direction, but they came closer. Pressing himself against the wall, his head was spinning.

Should he run? Stay and hope for the best?

He was paralyzed when a Bobby paused to look around, close to his hiding spot. Then he made an uncertain movement and the taller man noticed it and started to walk right towards his direction. Nick broke into sweat.

He could stay, greet him as always, and casually ask what the matter was.

Or, he considered eyeing the truncheon on the man’s belt, he could skip being nice and run for his life. At the last possible moment, he started to run, as fast as he could, rounding another block that he knew because there hat once been a dealer. His trash bin was his only hope. Quickly, he crawled into it and listened to the footsteps coming closer again.

Why did Kitty talk?, he asked himself. She got everything she wanted! The ring didn’t have a diamond, but who cares? It was a personal item, worth a fortune if she sold it to fans!

After a few minutes, he noticed to his relief that the Constables didn’t expect him to be in a trash bin and went away. Nick oriented himself and left his hideout to very carefully sneak home.

He was completely out of breath when he arrived at home. After entering through his backdoor and stumbling through the kitchen, he unwillingly looked for the others. He was here to say he was okay, after all.

And if they jumped at him and called him a murderer, that was the risk he had to take.

He received stares when he came into the living room. A bit embarrassed, he stopped in the doorframe and mumbled a “Hi guys…I’m back…“

He was ready to run if he needed to.

The first one who got up was Virgil. Nick saw that his face was pale and his eyes were red. He immediately felt sorry for him.

“Nick! Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! Are you okay?“

He walked over to him and Nick was happy to fall into his arms, relieved that his manager didn’t think bad of him. Virgil hugged him tighter than usual, his hands moved along his back, probably searching for bruises.

“I’m okay…“, Nick said quietly. “I’m on Joy again…How are you?“

“Well, we were worried. You’ve been talking about blackmail. Is that true?“

He shoved Nick away a little to look him into his wide innocent looking eyes.

“Yes“, Nick said. „It’s such a mess.“

“What happened?“

Nick sighed because he had to explain it all for a second time. He sat down with Virgil and the band and told them how he got into the mess with Kitty and her murdered husband.

“I have no idea what really happened“, he concluded. “Perhaps I didn’t even see it. Could’ve been anyone…“

There was silence for a while. Nick could almost hear them rack their brains.

“She can’t make you a murderer that easily“, Virgil started thinking out loud. “We could still charge her instead.“

“Oh, please, Virgil, no publicity! You know there’s still a lot of people who would believe her. And what’s the point of winning in court if nobody buys my records anymore?“

“And what if we make her forget?“, Brad suggested.

“How do you plan to get so close to her?“ Nick didn’t want them to get involved into Arthur’s plan.

Brad shrugged. “We could pay her a visit, say we want to congratulate her for becoming Mrs. Lightbearer…and we present her some Oblivion-mixed tea.“

“What if she’s making us tea from it?“, Chris wanted to know.

“We won’t stay for long…we’ll have to go, you now, writing songs…“

“And what if she’s having a tea party with all her friends the next day and they all get insane?“, Morrie asked.

“Who would know?“, Brad shrugged again. Chris had to chuckle at that.

“Probably their husbands?“

“I don’t know…it’s very risky…If they link this to us somehow…it would only make it worse“, Nick mused.

“We need to make sure she’s the only one taking it“, Morrie went on.

“How? By grabbing her and pushing it down her throat?“, Matt felt uncomfortable about it.

They pondered.

“Well, she’s also not very fair…“, Brad considered it.

“She could’ve done it herself“, Morrie said, dropping everyone’s mood some more.

Nick defended her again. “No, I don’t think it was her. She couldn’t do it….She’s a bit crazy but not violent.“

“So, what else could we give her?“, Brad went back to planning.

“Maybe you shouldn’t risk your own reputation like this“, Nick said. “I should do it.“

“Oh, come on, if you set one foot out of your house, every paparazzi around would stick to your heels! But us? Nobody recognizes us on the street! We can do it!“

Everyone nodded and Nick gave them a doubtful look.

“The only other option is that you marry her“, Chris pointed out.

“I could drug her after she moved in an nobody would know“.

“But then you need a divorce.“

“Should be easier when she doesn’t know what’s going on.“

Morrie stepped in: “Don’t give in to her game, she could drug you too! We don’t know what she’s capable of!“

“She’s just a nice girl that fell in love with the wrong guy! She’s not a killer!“

“So, you’ll marry her?“, Morrie asked with a horrified expression.

Nick shrank a little. “I don’t have to do it soon“, he said quietly. “She could forget it all by herself.“

“No way! That girl will never forget you! Especially not when she sees you in the press almost every day or hears your records everywhere!“, Morrie urged him.

Virgil, who had listened all the time, spoke up again: “If you plan to drug her, I’ll cover you. I’ll tell everyone you weren’t there if they ask me. I don’t want to lose you to a maniac fan.“

“See, with Virgil at our side, what could go wrong?“, Chris tried to comfort Nick.

“Maybe you’re right…“, he said quietly, avoiding their looks. “Thanks for caring“, he still added even quieter.

Somehow, he managed to get out of the room, with the excuse that he was tired. It wasn’t even wrong. He dragged himself along the stairs and stopped in front of his door. Listening to the silence, he soon heard other footsteps approaching, that were certainly Morrie’s. He expected his lover to come and have some more words with him. Nick just looked forward to cuddle with him again after all the talking.

Morrie appeared at the corridor and saw his lover waiting for him. Nick was surprised that Morrie pulled him into a hug.

“What are you doing?“, Morrie whispered. “What are you doing to yourself…to me…?“

When they had shut the door behind them, he went on: “Do you still plan to marry her?“

He sounded more afraid than anything else.

Nick cupped his face with his hands. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. Your career is just starting and there’s so much that could go wrong. I caused this mess and I should get rid of it myself.“

“But there’s no other way!“, Morrie urged him. “I don’t want her to get you! I don’t want her to put her hands on you again! Don’t do this to me, Norrie!“

“Alright…“, Nick fought with himself. “But I won’t let you go until your plan is absolutely perfect! We still have time to think this through. I’m engaged - so what? That doesn’t mean anything, I could still break up with her.“

“No, you can’t! She’ll sue you!“

Nick fell silent. Morrie too, and they hugged again.

“You scared me, you know?“, Morrie whispered, “You’re such a good actor, you really looked like she means the world to you.“

“Oh, god, Morrie, I was so afraid she’ll notice that I don’t want her at all…“

“Don’t do that again“, Morrie pleaded.

“I won’t, I promise.“ Nick kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair.

“Do you? Since you’re such a good actor, you could lie to me and I wouldn’t know…“

“But, Morrie, no…“ Nick looked him into the eyes. “I can’t lie to you. You’re too smart for me.“

Morrie closed his eyes and turned away.

“Then tell me what’s wrong“, he begged. “I feel that something’s off! I don’t want to be so blunt! I want to trust you! But you don’t tell me anything! You’re putting yourself in danger and all I can do is watch!“

“I’m sorry.“ Nick was nervous. “But…I wasn’t keen on telling you that I’m the suspect in a murder case!“

“Because you were afraid I’ll believe it? Because you don’t trust me?“

“I trust you, Morrie…But it wasn’t quite a nice story to tell…“

“That’s what I mean!“, Morrie blurted out. “It’s not a matter of trust if you tell me just the good things! You should tell me your problems too! We should be a team!“

“I’m sorry.“

Morrie hung his head.

“I know I can’t make you trust me. I understand. I just don’t know if I have the strength…“ his voice began to shiver. “I’m tired. I should go to bed,“ he added rather stiffly and moved to leave the room.

Nick was quickly behind him.

“Please stay! I do trust you! Don’t leave me!“

“Then tell me what’s going on.“ Morrie’s eyes searched his. “What’s happening?“

„It’s going to be alright, my love“, Nick said, putting all his hopes and dreams into these words. “We’ll find a way out of this. She won’t get me…“

“Is there more?“

“No…we’ll become rich and famous, and then I’ll marry you.“

Morrie froze and silenced. Nick used the moment to pull him into a kiss, but before their lips met, the other man turned away and escaped his grab.

“Morrie?“, now Nick was pleading.

“I don’t want to be like this, but where have you been?“

Nick had expected that question to come at him eventually. “I ran back to Kitty….I tried to argue with her, make her stop…Well, surprise, it didn’t work.“

“You tried everything, didn’t you?“ Morrie sounded sarcastic.

“What do you mean?“, Nick shyly responded.

Morrie sighed deeply. “You had sex tonight. I can smell it.“

Nick fell quiet, wondering how the hell he smelled that.

“I can’t smell her perfume“, Morrie whispered, eyeing Nick, who shrugged helplessly.

“Perhaps she did wash it off? She was already in bed…“ Nick wiped his neck, thinking. “Look, I was out of my mind and I can’t remember much…“

Morrie didn’t move. Nick closed the distance between them and lay his arms around his lover’s shoulder. Their hearts were beating against each other when he said: “Look at me…look and me and tell me I don’t love you.“

Morrie’s brown eyes searched him. Nick stood completely still, afraid of making any wrong move.

Suddenly, Morrie’s finger stroked his cheek.

“You can always make me feel like you need me“, he whispered.

“I do need you“, Nick insisted. “I do…“

„For what?“

Nick was confused for a second.

“For life?“, he answered. „Trust me, I will marry you…if you still want me…“

Morrie’s hand remained on his cheek. “I guess I won’t be bored with you.“

Nick tried a smile, not knowing if his lover was joking or complaining.

Morrie stayed and Nick did his best to make him not regret it.

The next day came and Arthur prepared his mission as good as he could. He sneaked around the music shop to find out when it would supposedly close and Kitty would go home, and then he looked up her house for a good spot to get in. Luckily, it had a backyard with a second entrance that he could pick without being seen. Behind that he assumed a Downer detector.

Well, it helped to be a bit jolly while drugging other people against their will…

Not that he felt sorry for her. He rather despised her for making his lover suffer. And after all, Wellies loved to forget, didn’t they? She’ll live happily ever after, not knowing she even had a husband.

At night, Arthur put his plan into action. He shortly stopped by the shop to see if it was really abandoned. Could be that she was still at work for some reason. But all was well. At her home, all her windows were shrouded in darkness, so he assumed she was asleep. He picked the lock first before he took the Joy and entered her kitchen. It was silent, only the clock at the wall next to the dining table was quietly ticking. The carpet dampened his footsteps.

Normally, he would look around for food or other useful things, but this time he only wanted to get this over with. He had a syringe prepared. Oblivion was a pill, but in his hatch he had managed to grind it into a powder that he mixed with water, so that he could let it drop into her mouth she’d swallow it. Theoretically, it should work. He had more pills with him, just in case he needed another option. He quickly ascended the stairs and looked into every room that was open, just in case she was not in her bed yet. Also, because he had no idea where her bedroom was. He saw photos of Richard Bates in neat frames at the wall and felt watched.

But Richard wouldn’t mind, right? He wouldn’t want her to marry someone else anyway.

When Arthur reached the third floor it was still very quiet, and when he found the empty bed, he thought he should’ve known that something was wrong. He looked around in the room, but she was nowhere to be found. Why would she hide anyway? She also didn’t jump out of any corner to attack him when he rummaged the other floors again.

Entering the backyard, he felt nervous.

Did she have to visit a friend just tonight of all nights?

He also felt unsure about what to do. Simply because he didn’t want to leave empty handed, he went back to the shop. All lights were still off, but he considered she could be working in a storage room that had no windows.

The shop had a backdoor, too and after picking it, he found himself in a storage room that was full of shelves and boxes. Nobody was there.

Arthur by now ignored that Kitty needed to be asleep for his plan to work, all he wanted was to find her.

The next door opened into a larger room. The counter was right in front of him and something large lay on it. With a bad feeling in his stomach, he stepped closer. Seconds later he regretted it.

It was Kitty, or better, what was left of her. She was covered in blood, certainly her own, because her stomach was open and her insides spilled out. It looked like someone had angrily hacked into her and pulled everything out he could grab. Arthur wasn’t an expert though. It was only his very first impression before he hastily left the shop again out of the backdoor and didn’t stop his escape until he was back in his hatch.

The news that Kitty was gone on holiday spread rapidly around town. It reached Nick when he was shaken awake by Morrie who seemed to be out of breath.

“Kitty Bates is dead“, he rasped instead of wishing him a good morning.

Nick, still half asleep and very slow on the uptake, mumbled “What?“

“Kitty Bates“, Morrie explained slower, "…She’s dead.“

He fell quiet, as if he just now realized the gravity of his news.

Nick eyed him, slowly processing his words. His stomach seemed to understand them first. He gulped. “Really? Are you sure?“

Morrie silently handed him the newspaper he had been holding all the time. Nick’s gaze fell on a photo of a cheerfully smiling Kitty, surrounded by a colorful frame of hearts.

Gone On Holiday, said the headline, and now Nick’s brain began to understand, the way it started to spin.

“But…how…what…“ Nick stared at Morrie and Morrie eyed back. Nick saw that his lover was looking at him rather warily, but his own look wasn’t any less concerned.

“You didn’t…?“

“Hell, no!“, Morrie blurted out. “We didn’t go near her.“

Nick stared back at the photo, terrified by his own thoughts.

“Norrie“, his lover said quieter, still concerned. “You said you only argued with her. Is that true?“

Nick heard how uncomfortable he felt asking this kind of question, but he was still upset.

“You think I did this?“, he shouted.

“I don’t think you would hurt anyone on purpose, but…do you know something? You were so calm yesterday, just as if you wouldn’t mind marrying her anymore. Perhaps there was another reason.“ Morrie didn’t look at him anymore. He spoke to the wall, that wasn’t staring daggers at him like Nick was.

“I was calm because you were helping me!“, he shouted. “All of you had a plan and I thought it’s going to be okay! And now this…What the hell do you think of me?“

Nick was on the edge of tears. Regret burned in his chest. He blamed himself and didn’t really know what for. For trusting a Downer? That he didn’t see through the beautiful eyes of that sweetheart to find the rotten core inside?

“Norrie…“, his lover’s voice was shaking too. “What if you saw it? I’m just trying to help.“

“How is that helping me?“ Nick slapped Morrie’s hands away. “You could’ve done it yourself! You’re getting the most out of this! Now the problem is solved and she’ll never touch me again!“

Now Morrie was upset. “Does that mean I need you more than you need me?“

“For fuck’s sake, Morrie, that’s not the point! We’re both suspicious! But I’d never suspect you!“

“Really? You suspected me right after looking at the announcement!“

“No, I thought it was Oblivion that killed her! Is that possible?“, Nick asked, full of hope. “Can Oblivion accidentally kill?“

Morrie shook his head. His expression was pitiful again. “Not the way she died.“

Nick looked back at the newspaper.

“It’s not in the article, but people talk about it. Virgil got the information out of Hunt. She died just like her husband, completely dismembered.“

Nick pressed his eyes shut. “God, that’s awful.“

“Norrie, if you remember anything“, Morrie urged him again.

“Stop it, Morrie, I’m not a killer!“

Nick turned away from him and left the bed.

“Where are you going?“ Morrie sounded like he was about to panic. Nick didn’t answer while stomping down the stairs.

“Norrie!“, the call echoed through the corridor.

Nick stopped at his front door to take another look at his lover.

“I’m going to see my therapist!“, he shouted.

“What? Now?“ Morrie helplessly stumbled.

“Yes! Now! With all this shit going on, I need treatment! Either that or my entire stash of drugs! What would you prefer?“

Morrie opened his mouth but had no words. Nick slammed the door shut in his face with a simple: "Bye!“

He had never reached the tunnel suite in such a short amount of time before. He could’ve been more afraid, thinking about how Kitty and Richard died. He would probably stand no chance in a fight. But his anger blurred his mind, his disappointment and regret.

Because his suite was empty, he hammered against the door to Arthur’s hideout. It was locked, what looked like a confession to him.

“Come out, you coward! Look at me and tell me what you did!“, he yelled.

“Who’s there?“, Arthur’s shy voice sounded though the door.

”You know very well who I am!“

“Nick?“

“Open the door!“, Nick shouted and hammered some more.

“I won’t let you in unless you calm down!“

“Afraid of looking at me, are you? Is it so hard to use your weapons on someone who’s not asleep?“

“If you think that I’m nothing but a rotten killer, I’ll never open that door for you again!“

Arthur’s words broke through Nick’s anger. Reconsidering what just had happened, the feeling of regret became even stronger.

“Arthur, just tell me you didn’t do it!“ His voice was a mere whimper.

“You really think it was me…“

“I’m not thinking anything! I was out of my mind! Please, come out!“

“What will you do to me?“

“Nothing, I swear! I’m unarmed! I wouldn’t have a chance against you! Please, come out!“

He heard Arthur unlock the door and a moment later, the tall man stepped out, his expression was a mixture of disgust and disappointment. And sadness.

He remained stiff when Nick fell into his arms.

“I’m so sorry!“

Arthur pushed him away.

“What did you want to do with me?“

“Nothing, I just wanted to talk!“

“Some way of talking! You had the accusation already finished! You had no doubts it was me!“

“Please, you needed only one word to convince me I was wrong!“

“Well, what a lucky bastard I am! One wrong word and I’d be pushing up daisies!“

“No, I could never hurt you! Except…with words I guess….“ He sobbed. “I’m so sorry…I promise I won’t hurt you again.“

“Great!“, Arthur snapped. “So it’s all over! Let’s pretend it never happened, take our Joy - oh wait, I’m not taking any Joy! I will always remember this!“

Nick opened his mouth, but Arthur wasn’t finished.

“I thought you were not like the other Wellies! I thought I could trust you! I was fine with staying here, waiting for you instead of living my life with you as any normal person would! Do you know how it feels to be a Downer? An outsider people can thrash in the streets and no one cares? You made me feel different! You treated me like a human being! Someone you wouldn’t blame for everything that goes wrong and treat like a pile of trash if you need to vent! But what do you really think?“

“I’m sorry…“, Nick said meekly, cowed by Arthur’s outburst. „You were just the only person I knew who was there…“

“So what? When you told me that you were in Bate’s house the same night he died and that you were innocent, I believed you! But you’re not a rotten Downer like me, right?“

“Arthur, please don’t call yourself that! You’re a person, and what a wonderful person you are!“

Nick felt that these words had lost their magic in this moment.

“I was always so happy to see you…“, Arthur said bitterly.

Nick dared to come closer. “Me too…Please, I’ll make up for everything!“

„I don’t know, Nick“, Arthur touched the doorframe and backed away into the room behind him.

Nick darted forward, grabbing the other man’s arm.

“I love you, Arthur!“

Arthur gave him one last sad look before he freed himself and closed the door.

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