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dungeons-and-dragon-age · 8 months

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Seven forms of love asks: the first one of each category for either Ari, Liam or June?

[ask game]

Ooh so many!! >:] Imma do all of them hehe

Eros 1: Is your OC romantic in the traditional sense? Do they enjoy giving or receiving gifts of flowers or confectionary? Or are there other courtship traditions from their culture of origin that are important to them?

Ari: Hmm honestly? I'd say so, yeah. He's romantic in a chivalrous kind of way, and even if it's less on purpose and more "how else am i supposed to do this?" i'll still say it counts lol. Once past the courting he's romantic in how much attention he pays to his partner's interests and likes and in how he will support those. That ties into gifts etc. as well, because he is more likely to go by his partner's preferences/culture/etc rather than his own. It's for them, after all, so it should be meaningful to them.

Liam: Yes 100%, he is probably The corniest romantic out of all my ocs lmao. He's the 'will slowdance in the livingroom', 'will hold hands at the theatre', 'will reenact the Titanic scene at the bow' kind of romantic. He is not a fan of expensive or elaborate gifts, but anything small and thoughtful will do the trick. I've long integrated that one hc about courting in Ferelden into my worldview so giving and receiving flowers from a lover is something he values a lot.

June: Not at all. She's a romance repulsed aro, so. Not much of a romantic hfldksjf. It wasn't something she'd given any thought until it became relevant, after she and Cullen started getting closer and she had to figure out what she wanted out of the relationship. There is certainly some overlap with what would typically be considered romantic, but she is still not at all romantic in a traditional sense. Also re: gift giving, she's not a fan lol. June is horrible at both receiving and giving gifts that are not practical in nature, so she'd rather avoid it entirely.

Philia 1: Does your OC have a Best Friend? If they do then how long have they known each other and how did they meet? If they don't then do they have a close group of friends they love equally? Or are they more of a loner?

Ari: I'd say that Joseohine, Leliana and Vivienne all equally count as best friends to him, out of which he vibed with Viv the quickest. Josephine he he didn't call a friend until later even though they got along really well, out of worry that it would be inappropriate. He also definitely had some close friends in the Valo-Kas, but admittedly i haven't thought about them as much as i should lol so i don't have any specifics there.

Liam: Varric and Fenris; Fenris because the grow close, Varric because they did the anime mind flash connection thing and simply forged a silent pact early on (they vibe because they are (partially) fucked up in the same way <3). During the time in Kirkwall until the Deep Roads he also definitely considered Bethany his best friend.

June: Dorian and Sera are her ride or die besties, but Dorian came first and is still just barely holds best friend status over Sera. They got along sooner, they share interests, and they simply Work.

Storge 1: Did your OC's parents love them unconditionally? If so then has this helped them feel confident as an adult? If not then how has this affected them? What were the conditions their family attached to their relationship?

Ari: Considering that both his parents felt a little out of their league because usually he would've been taken care of by Tamas, they did really well! Growing up as the only Vashoth kid around could get a bit tough even if the environment was friendly, so they made extra sure to make him feel loved.

Liam: I am sure that they did, but it did not always come across that way. Subconsciously the love, over time, started feeling tied to how well he fulfilled his duties (or what he perceived a such) as eldest son, even if it was subconscious.

June: The love was most definitely perceived as conditional, always dependent on performance. They were a noble family with decent standing and strong ties to the Chantry, which left the sisters with high expectations and a constant competition for approval.

Agape 1: Does your OC wish to make the world a better place? How far do they see that as being their responsibility? What lengths would they go to in order to help achieve this?

Ari: Yes, and it's something he has become especially persistent about since becoming Inquisitor. He is now in a position where changing things on a greater scale is Actually Possible, and he maaaybe gets a little too hung up on the ideals he has in his mind.

Liam: Not really? He believes in common human decency and in simply being nice to people, but he does not generally see it as his responsibility to "make the world a better place". However, he does feel responsible as soon as he gets involved in something, so he ends up helping a lot anyway lol.

June: It is not a priority, no, and she does not feel responsible for the greater good. She does start caring more about the impact she has and the good that she can do, but never to the point where she'd get worked up about it.

Ludus 1: Does your OC have any particular favourite chat up lines? If not for themselves then perhaps ones they have suggested to a friend? How effective do these tend to be?

Ari: Any chat up lines he know he knows from books or from Leliana, and he decided that it would probably be best not to try those himself lolol. He is very good at complimenting people though! Which can come across as flirty sometimes, for better or for worse.

Liam: If he is being smooth on main you can be sure that it was on accident, because he is horrible at flirting. But he wouldn't try it for showing genuine interest anyway. However with an established partner he thoroughly enjoys throwing all the bad corny pickup lines at them, and we're talking "did it hurt when you fell [...]" type bad

June: Casual flirting is basically her modus operandi when it comes to friendly conversation, but when she's trying for a hookup or something she'll be way more bold and direct. June is way more witty than i am lol so i can't give you any proper examples, but she's very good at coming up with lines on the spot (and they tend to work pretty well!)

Pragma 1: Is your OC in a committed long-term relationship (or relationships)? If so then what has contributed to this relationship lasting so well? If they are not in such a relationship, then is this something that saddens them or which they regret?

Ari: A committed relationship hadn't been something on his radar, but he an Josie simply Worked. They mesh really well, they have similar interests, they enjoy talking with one another a lot, they're intellectually on the same wavelength... it gets strained after Trespasser, but they're holding tight so far.

Liam: Depends on the worldstate, but in the one where he lives he is with Fenris! I think part of why it works is that they're both very affectionate and very devoted people at heart, but they also simply get on well and work well as a team. A long-term relationship is definitely something Liam sought out.

June: It wouldn't have been something she'd have considered or missed, but here we are, and she is content with how it worked out. June and Cullen are good at both pushing and grounding each other, and they end up finding a good deal of support in their relationship.

Philautia 1: Does your OC have a healthy sense of their own worth and value? Or do they see themselves as failing to live up to their original potential? Perhaps they are convinced of their own sinful or inadequate nature?

Ari: I wouldn't say he has a lacking or inflated sense of self-worth, he simply exists as himself and is okay with that. There are things he is self-conscious about, there are things he is proud of, all within reason. Where it gets more complicated is the sense of value he gives his actions ; that is where the feeling of Not Enough sets in

Liam: I think it's decent. Overall he is fine with who is is and how he is, and does give his own needs their due, but he will quickly feel like he is not worthy of someone's love when he, in his eyes, fails to take care of them. It doesn't impact is sense of self-worth per se but it does make him feel like he failed as a friend/son/sibling/etc

June: There are things about herself that she is very proud of, but overall her sense of self-worth is. Not the best. Being self-centered is a defence mechanism against feeling like she is constantly failing expectations everywhere, a feeling that she got a little too used to growing up (yay for performance based families! <3)

#......i got a little carried away x'D #sorry this got so long lol but it was fun!!#oc: ari adaar #oc: liam hawke #oc: june trevelyan #my ocs #oc ask game/ my answers

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blood-bound · 11 months

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8, 10, 11 and 15 for Mark? 🥲

YAYY TY this is fun sorry if written badly i am Tired.

What is the closest your OC has come to death?

Well other than the obligatory “he was literally murdered and is dead since he is a vampire” this is actually more of a silly story - soooo… brief context: The Tremere chantry in Detroit has gargoyles and Mark has befriended one. This particular gargoyle is really good at flying! But is very young and childish and doesn’t understand that other people without stone skin can’t survive intense g forces and other things. So once Mark asked for a ride. And during the flight, started taking damage from the G forces, and also… when they arrived… he was just… flung into the ground at high speed… lost a LOT of skin… some organs… would have been dead if not a kindred. Like Mark’s BONES were exposed. It was tough. But yea that's the closest Mark in particular came to final death! Lol.

What is the worst loss your OC has suffered?

Where to start… Mark lost his chance at a normal life… he lost his relationship (and found out he lost it a lot sooner than he knew)... oh I’ll just talk about a very very large loss because it is hard to pinpoint the ‘worst’...

Mark lost his privacy. It used to be very important to him - he was a very private person. He had a strong work persona, a strong professor persona, a strong persona for his coworker friends, a different one for friends… his students… and really, even one for his boyfriend and himself. He kept everything internalized and people who he had known for awhile really knew very little of him. It made him feel safe and it was so engrained he hardly realized he was doing it.

But turns out - he was being spied on for a long time. Julius learned a lot about him. And now, he has to send him weekly reports on what he is doing. Now, Julius can see through his eyes whenever he wants. Lots of other kindred try to find info on him - he feels eyes on him so often. Gaius invaded his memories and saw everything he knew. A changeling haunts his night visions and sees those too. And perhaps most invasive at all, Julius manipulates the blood bond he has to Mark to make Mark care *less* about his privacy than he used to - so it doesn’t even bother him as much as it should. So. He lost his privacy and his sense of privacy.

Your OC is forced to kill a member of their family or a friend. Who do they choose, and why?

Uhm let me see. Let’s consider this the pool of people: -Parents -Sampson -Kenny -Dr. Armatto -Rose

Oh my god wtf this is an awful pool of people to pick from. Uhm. Uh. Well it definitely will not be Sampson. I think he would narrow it down to be Dr. Armatto because he is old… Rose because he’s known her for the least amount of time… and his parents because he isn’t close with them at all anymore. It’s fucked up, but in a situation like this I think he would also consider what Julius would want. And Julius would think Rose being given final death would put him in a worse position. I think he would kill his father. He is the most distant from him - least chance of reconnecting - and he would try to tell himself that he would have to die anyway - and in this situation, no matter who he kills, he is losing humanity… oof tough question. Also Mark get more friends jfc.

How far would you OC go to protect their loved ones?

Pretty damn far, depending on who. He’d kill kindred. He’d risk his life, for sure, for any of his touchstones or his parents. If people were attacking them, he’d fight to kill. And if it was Sampson, he might even kill humans not fighting - strangers to him - much to Sampson’s horror. Sampson in particular, as a ghoul, Mark figures could stay with him for a very long time - so he’s worth a lot to him. He’d even blood bind him again, temporarily, if it was between choosing that and Sampson’s death. He needs him.

#mark vtm oc

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emilykaldwen · 2 years

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Omg can I just saw I love your addition to that Robert and Amy post and I feel the exact same way about it all! The complex feelings! It makes me want to die but I love it!!!! And re: your tags about wanting to read an AU of the situation that's literally why I started writing my own AU because omg the possibility just wouldn't get out of my head!

I tried to keep it in the tags but it was too long *lol* but thank you! And yes! It’s on my list to read this week. I need some distractions while doing plot things for my book planning. The actors are great and I do like how they’re conveying the relationship. It’s also cool to see how you came up with your timeline and the reasonings behind it! I really enjoyed that aspect (I’ve got timelines out the wazoo for my war of the roses alt his so it’s fun to see others).

I think what’s interesting about the situation is that on one hand,I am a huge supporter of platonic soulmates - that Robert Dudley and Elizabeth were truly platonic friends so I sometimes feel guilty riding the Robert x Elizabeth train. The fact that there’s so much speculation but surprisingly little concrete rumor, let alone evidence that they dallied in anything. Honestly, our biggest indicator of it was how close his rooms were to hers. It’s hard to say if it was hubris on Bess’ part, or what.

Given that their maternal grandmother’s line was very fruitful, and My Queen Margaret Beaufort’s lack of further children was due to physical (and emotional) trauma, if Elizabeth was getting down with Robert, they were really fucking careful. While I believe that Mary I had PCOS and other fertility issues, we just don’t know about Elizabeth.

AND WITH ALL THAT BEING SAID, regardless, I’ve been very much enjoying the Robert and Elizabeth show. As to the subject of how/when they’d get married?

I’m of two minds:

1. Thomas Seymour Really Fucked Up, and Elizabeth should have been 100% taken out of that household sooner. Post-Seymour, Elizabeth being married to Robert Dudley or any domestic noble house is... a difficult situation because Seymour also tried to kidnap Edward, and was working his own machinations.

The perfect time for Elizabeth to have married Robert would absolutely have been when Elizabeth was sent away in 1548. I blame all the adults in her life, but most specifically I blame Kat Ashley for this. She was Elizabeth’s governess and closest caretaker.

2. Arguably, Dudley was a better protector than Seymour, and had Robert NOT married Amy when he did, we would have seen potentially Robert and Elizabeth get married (and ultimately I think Jane Grey would have survived because who else would have the power to rise up - they vastly underestimated love for Mary, and especially KoA but that’s another rant).

The issue you’d have to then tackle would be succession. Elizabeth was IMO only taken out of succession because they needed to take Mary out, and you couldn’t take Mary out for legitimacy reasons and not take Elizabeth out because poor Anne Boleyn was tried for treason, while KoA was not.

So basically had Robert not understandably went and married someone who was willing to do so, then I think we could have seen their marriage. With his father as the Lord Protector, and a stable government for the four years (technically speaking), we would be faced with a very different succession issue.

Anyway yes. I love talking Tudors.

#theladyelizabeth #ask tag #I need to make more tudor friends lmao so hi!

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jellifysh · 2 years

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Ngl if I were y/n I would’ve been so mad at jungkook if I was in this situation LOL like Ik it’s not his fault that they’re crazy and stuff but like cmon you could’ve told me(if I was in y/n’s position) before hand that you were literally in a relationship with mobsters and then you decided to r u n away from the wedding and now we’re in this position 💀💀💀 rant over btw you’re writing is so good 🤍🤍

Thank you bestie 🥺 I am asking for as much patience as possible because I straight up don't know what I'm doing this time around

also y/n and Jungkook are ride or die 🤞 literally she would jump off a bridge if he did it first and vice versa, her knowing about them would change nothing because they would never leave each other's side,, there's probably an engagement ring back at their safe house that jk never got to give to her

also also jk one hundred percent did not think that they would come after him, i think when he first ran away the boys were probably like "Whatever" and didn't care and then as time went on they were like "man I wish jk was here" and then looked into finding him again. If they wanted him back from the start, they would've found him way sooner,, he left and was just like "welp, never gonna see those guys again" and joined a spy agency to go off the grid and have fun, and then left aforementioned agency the second he met y/n 🤪 he's living off vibes

#emberfulclass #thanks for the ask!

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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

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AU of the Archives finding out Jon is being held by the Circus (while he’s still being held captive there?)

anon, thank you for giving me an excuse to write something like this; i am always looking for 101 h/c lol. warning for discussions/depictions of the kidnapping scenario in 101.

1. They only really find out by accident. More specifically, they find out because Melanie is snooping around the Institute (already searching for solutions to her being trapped there), and finds the tape, somehow, the one where Nikola talks to Elias. She only needs to listen through once before they put the pieces together: Georgie told her Jon left. They haven't seen Jon since—and sure, he wasn't in much before, but—this long? And that is Jon's voice on the tape: muffled and panicked and indecipherable, but still pretty obviously him.

Melanie shows it to the others, and the tape isn't even finished before Martin is demanding they have to find him, they have to find him now, panic flashing visibly in his eyes—he's been gone for WEEKS, and why didn't I notice, why didn't any of YOU notice, and don't fucking try to argue with me, Tim, Jon has been KIDNAPPED and they're going to KILL HIM— And Tim looks hurt, at this insinuation, is snapping back before Martin can even finish, I wasn't going to ARGUE, Martin, Christ, and he hasn't told them about his brother yet, but he immediately went pale when he heard Nikola's voice, heard her going on about skinning Jon, and they all saw it, and Melanie and Basira are putting it together before Martin is: Tim's in, too.

Basira's the one who says We need to find him in the end, but Martin and Tim have already decided by then.

2. In the end, Elias is the one who tells them where Jon is. (After some persuasion.) He hadn't intended to originally, but obviously they already know, and obviously no one is going to be focused on finding the ritual site, and sloppy work won't benefit anyone, much less the whole world. (And if the rescue goes messy, and it ends up benefitting the whole of his plan, well—)

They take a car and ride up there, the four of them. (There's some brief argument as to whether or not they all should go, but Martin's obviously going, and Tim doesn't back down, and Basira insists she can get them in and out, and Melanie isn't saying no…) It's a long, tense car ride, hours of mostly silence broken up by panic on Martin's behalf. (He's still berating himself, even if he won't berate the others—how could they not have known, how could he not have noticed, how has Jon been held prisoner somewhere for weeks and Elias didn't goddamn tell them, and it's been so long, and what if it's too late, what if they're too late, what if he's already dead—) And then, eventually, Tim breaks the silence. By telling them what happened to his brother. (It's NOT a statement, he says, but it feels like one anyway, and no one speaks until he's done. He sounds choked up by the end, furious and fearful and grieving all at once—I didn't think they would come for—I-I didn't think Jon would…)

The images from Tim's story loom over well enough, along with the half-remembered sounds of the tape sent to Elias. We're going to use every piece of you. I thought you'd make a lovely frock. The imagery is grotesque and Martin is sick with it, leaning against the car window, hoping with a fierce desperation that they aren't too late.

3. They aren't too late. And they get in without being detected, somehow. (Afterwards, Basira will keep saying that it was too easy, the whole thing felt too easy, and Tim will say tiredly, "Who the fuck cares? We got out.")

Jon's woken up by someone whispering his name—quiet, with a gentle subtlety that the Stranger more than lacks. It's Martin—this becomes clear as soon as he opens his eyes, although it takes a moment for everything to slot into place, the reality of Martin leaning over him, eyes wide with concern. "Oh, Christ, you're all right," Martin says, his voice shaking. "Thank God. I-I thought…" He stops then, and goes to work on getting Jon free.

"Martin?" Jon hisses as soon as the gag is gone, and then—Tim, working at the ropes on his legs, Melanie and Basira towards the door. "What—wh-what are you doing here?"

"What are you talking about?" Melanie says, her voice as muted as the others. "We found you, that's what we're doing here."

"Y-you can't be here," says Jon, still stuck in the panic of the past few weeks. "They'll kill you, you can't be here…"

"We're already here," says Tim. "We're not leaving you behind."

Jon's eyes jerk between the four of them frantically before landing back on Martin—Martin, who looks like he's nearly on the verge of tears, who says, "We're getting you out of here, Jon," and helps him to his feet. Jon grips at his hand as he's pulled to his feet, the relief washing through him in waves—he hadn't realized until then how much he'd expected never to be rescued or found—how much he'd thought he would die here.

4. They get hotel rooms rather than driving back—it's a long drive, and Jon looks nearly dead on his feet, and it makes sense. Jon sleeps for nearly sixteen hours straight after a long-running shower, and the others mostly alternate between sleeping and watching for agents of the Circus. (No one ever comes.)

Melanie calls Georgie to let her know. Tim leaves Elias a nasty voicemail. Martin goes to get breakfast from a store nearby, and take-out tea, and when Jon wakes up, they eat clustered in the hotel room to mostly silence.

Jon says, at one point, I didn't think anyone would come. He says it mostly to the floor, when the others are out of the room, and it's just him and Martin drinking tea that isn't nearly as good as the homemade stuff. He clears his throat and adds, Thank you for… for coming, Martin, I…

Martin tenses beside him immediately in immediate horror, says, Of course we came; of course we came, Jon, I don't know why—I-I am so sorry, I'm SO sorry we didn't come sooner, we didn't know… We didn't know, I'm so sorry.

It doesn't matter, says Jon. It doesn't matter, just… thank you. Thank you for coming, I… i-if anything had happened to you, I wouldn't have…

They're leaning together, almost unconsciously, their arms pressed together, and Martin says, I'll always come. If… I-I hope this never happens again, Jon, b-but I… I'll always come.

Sitting in the dim-lit hotel room, Jon believes him. He knows immediately that he's telling the truth, and he says, I will, too, and he means it just as much.

5. The whole experience is a catalyst to everyone talking more, because how could it not be? There's a difference between someone saying they were kidnapped and actually hearing about it—actually seeing it. The drive back leaves plenty of time to make peace, or something like it.

Jon starts spending more time in the Archives, in the weeks before he has to leave again. He and Martin have lunch almost every day; sometimes the others join them. Melanie calls and tells Georgie what's happened, and Georgie immediately reaches out to make sure Jon is okay. And Jon and Tim make their peace, more or less, gradually—not all at once, but gradually. (Tim hugs Jon when they get back and says he's glad he's okay. Jon offers an apology a few days later, for everything they haven't had the chance to talk about, and the recorders come on, and neither of them mention it. And nearly a week later, Tim tells Jon about what happened to his brother.) And it's something, some step in the right direction, towards healing.

#\ (ツ) /#tma au #tma fic #sort of #i wrote this

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cheesybadgers · 3 years

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 6)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 6,210

Summary: With Horacio now in Madrid and Javier still in Colombia, both men are forced to navigate being apart and the very different directions their lives have taken.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Canon-typical violence, some religious themes (including guilt), brief discussions of being closeted/fear of coming out, brief phone sex but nothing explicit, smoking, drinking, swearing, some angst.

Notes: I’d just like to say oops sorry about the word count 😂 I toyed with splitting the chapter in half, but it didn’t really work. I may have got a bit carried away with Horacio in Madrid, but gotta say that was probably the most fun part to write. Also, thank you so much to anyone who has left lovely comments or shared/liked etc. on Tumblr/AO3. This fic feels kinda like my baby by this point lol, so I appreciate anyone along for the ride and interaction is always greatly welcomed ❤️ I’m so excited for some of the things coming up that I’ve had in my head for months, although there’s just the small matter of actually writing them now 😉

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 6: Across The Miles

Javier spent the weeks and months after Horacio’s departure engrossed in work and grateful for the distraction. Contact between them was frustratingly infrequent, largely due to the time difference and their conflicting schedules, so he welcomed anything to channel the restlessness that had buried its way under his skin, seeping further into his muscles with each passing day.

It was the type of agitation that only sex or nicotine could placate. He hadn’t been with anyone else since before Tolú; a fact that ought to have told him something sooner about the depth of his feelings for Horacio. More than once their phone calls had led to the relief he chased, but it was short-lived, so smoking his way through carton after carton became a lifeline, telling himself he would cut back once this was all over.

The DEA were still searching for proof of how Escobar was smuggling his contraband into La Catedral and it was whilst sat round the Murphys’ kitchen table with aerial photos scattered amongst the dinner plates, that they’d had another breakthrough; thanks to Connie noticing a suspicious yellow truck in the photos that Javier and Steve couldn’t believe they’d missed.

Maybe it was the paranoia that came with the territory of keeping secrets, but Javier was convinced he saw something in the way Connie had looked over at him during dinner. No words were exchanged, but there was an almost indecipherable warmth and understanding in her eyes as she smiled at him. No sooner had he noticed it, than it was gone again, leaving him questioning whether it had even happened at all.

The next day they tracked down the truck and with some gentle persuasion, the driver agreed to them installing a camera in the back of the vehicle. The results were damning. Every luxury item and vice imaginable were passing over the threshold and yet, President Gaviria had no intention of doing anything about it; not even after the DEA found evidence that Escobar had murdered two of his own partners, Galeano and Moncada, within the prison walls.

In light of the government’s reluctance to act, Javier and Steve took matters into their own hands by leaking the photos to El Espectador. The leak had the desired effect of creating public outrage and launching a criminal investigation into the disappearance of Galeano and Moncada – not to mention prompting an uncharacteristic pat on the back from the CIA – but Ambassador Noonan was less than impressed, and instead of congratulating the agents for their work, she suspended them.

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

As soon as Javier walked through his apartment door, he flung his keys down on the nearest surface and grabbed a glass from the drinks cabinet, pouring a generous measure from whichever bottle happened to be closest to hand. He collapsed on the couch with a deep sigh, his head lolling back against the cushions and eyes scrunched shut in an attempt to block out the dull tension that had developed at his temples.

They really couldn’t win sometimes. Not that he regretted their actions, even if they were now paying the price. If it got them even a fraction closer to prying Escobar from the protective bubble of his ‘jail’, then so be it. There were far worse fates than a week’s suspension, after all.

He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing. It was Connie; the panic in her voice evident as she rushed to explain how she had found Steve’s car idling outside their garage, keys still in the ignition and no sign of him anywhere.

“Did you call Embassy security?” Javier asked as he sat down at the kitchen counter in the Murphys’ apartment, willing his voice to stay steady and calm.

“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Good. Don’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“Nothing. I just…I don’t wanna ring any alarms before I check things out.”

“Javi, please don’t fob me off. I thought you of all people would understand.”

“Me of all people?”

“Erm yeah…you know…I just mean, with Steve being your partner and everything,” Connie stumbled, changing course once she’d gauged Javier’s reaction and busying herself with Olivia, who had started to fuss in her high chair.

“Right…yeah.” He wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but he’d have to worry about that later. He stood up, moving towards her and bringing his hands up gently on either side of her arms. “Listen, I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll find him. Just sit tight and try to relax, okay?”

She sighed then nodded, but appeared far from convinced and Javier couldn’t blame her. He’d be exactly the same if it was Horacio who had gone missing, and it wasn’t until he left the apartment and was on his way to the Embassy that it dawned on him what Connie had meant.

Javier’s enquiries at the Embassy drew a blank and there was no evidence to suggest Escobar was involved. He drove back to the apartment block trying to decide how to look Connie in the eye and tell her he had no fucking clue where her husband was all these hours later. And then there was her comment. You of all people. He’d gone over it in his head multiple times and as much as he was at a loss as to how she knew, there was only one interpretation of her words that made sense to him.

“God, I just wanna go home. I want my husband back. I hate sitting around feeling so helpless, like everything is out of my control. And it’s not as though I hadn’t warned him about this kind of thing happening, but you know Steve.”

“Hey, I’m sure he was careful. It could’ve happened to any of us.”

Connie scoffed harshly, catching Javier off guard as he leaned against the counter behind him. “Did he tell you he completely lost it at a taxi driver recently?”

“Er no…no, he didn’t.” So, he wasn’t the only one hiding things from his partner, then.

“He pulled a gun on him and shot his tyre out. We’d spent the morning buying flowers to celebrate Olivia’s adoption papers coming through and then he does that whilst our daughter is in the backseat. It’s like I’m with two different people and you never know which one’s gonna show.”

Javier was silent for a moment, his stomach lurching at the realisation that whatever he said next would most likely remove any doubt over what he suspected she already knew.

“Yeah, I er…know the type,” he eventually mumbled with a wry smile; his eyes focused on the floor and arms cradling his chest.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t ignore the irony of the two men in their lives, who had butted heads on numerous occasions, having more in common than either of them would ever care to admit.

His downward gaze was roused by a warm hand lightly resting on his knee. He stared wordlessly at it for a second, placing his own on top and risking eye contact. He needn’t have worried though, as he was met with a consoling smile and that look again; the same one they had shared over the kitchen table.

“We’ll get him back, I promise.” He squeezed her hand, his words inadvertently doubling as comfort for his own situation as much as Connie’s.

Javier had no choice but to return to the Embassy after he’d exhausted every avenue he could think of, only to be met with Steve when he got there. The fucker was fine and hadn’t bothered to tell him.

The Cali cartel had kidnapped – but not harmed – him, offering a partnership of sorts with the DEA, by using Steve’s photos from La Dispensaria and a wiretap of his phone call to Horacio that night as leverage. Javier assumed Steve had destroyed those photos like he suggested and couldn’t understand how they’d ended up in the hands of Pacho Herrera.

Just when Javier thought the day from hell was finally over, Steve accosted him in the corridor after leaving the Ambassador’s office, slamming him against the wall and accusing him of being the leak. Javier was starting to see what Connie had meant about his volatile temper, but he hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of it.

By the time he climbed into bed that night, his mind was racing too loudly for him to sleep. He racked his brain for any clues as to who was behind the leak and couldn’t forget the flash of unrestrained rage in Steve’s eyes, either. There was another incident he hadn’t told Connie about, when Steve had threatened and attempted to choke their truck driver-turned-informant. Guilt mounted in his chest for not picking up on any of it sooner because he’d been so wrapped up in himself. He must have given Steve a reason not to trust him and who could blame him? If Connie had somehow figured it out about him and Horacio, it wasn’t inconceivable Steve knew more than he was letting on.

As he lay tossing and turning and tying himself in knots, he remembered the congratulations card they’d received at the Embassy the day after the press leak. Someone had walked by during his altercation with Steve too; who was it? Javier opened his eyes and scoffed into the darkness. Of course. The fucking CIA. He didn’t have all of the pieces of the puzzle, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was they were behind it.

It was times like these he craved the security of Horacio’s embrace the most. Everything fell silent when he was encased in the unwavering strength of his arms; creating a buffer between them and the outside world, even if just for a few hours. A few hours he still hadn’t forgiven himself for wasting on their last day together.

The irony wasn’t lost on him that he’d spent so long running away from commitment and now he was more at peace with the notion, they were torn apart by circumstance. If someone had told him in the recent past that he’d now be in something of a long-distance relationship, he’d have laughed in their face, but that appeared to be his current situation. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t still scare him, but the alternative terrified him even more.

On the cusp of sleep at last, he was drowsy enough to believe the warm weight on his back and around his waist was real. It wasn’t the same, obviously, but it gave him the respite he longed for and that would have to be enough for now.

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Horacio’s first few months in Madrid had been a series of gradual adjustments – some easier than others – from settling into his new apartment and finding his feet in the city and at work, to navigating the dialect differences and the jetlag when he’d first arrived.

The Colombian Consulate was certainly an upgrade on Carlos Holguín, with its dark, polished wood, embossed wallpaper, elaborate light fixtures and heavy drapes; the kind of décor his superiors were far more accustomed to than he was. He didn’t doubt his new colleagues were aware of why he was here; there wasn’t really any other logical explanation as to why someone of his rank and experience would be tethered to a desk this far away from Colombia during times like these, other than as a form of punishment. No one was brave enough to say anything to his face though; his reputation apparently preceding him.

It cut more deeply to be surrounded by updates from home than living in blissful ignorance, but it was all but impossible to completely wash his hands of Escobar. The man had plagued his every waking thought – and too many of his sleeping ones – for years and he couldn’t let it all go just because he’d been told to. It was starting to feel like the ultimate role reversal now; Javier was the one in the thick of it and all Horacio could do was watch from the side-lines. He often found himself glancing up at the wall of clocks set tauntingly to different time zones and wondering what Javier might be doing at any given hour, as though he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Routine and predictability quickly became the norm. If it wasn’t repetitive reports to type up, it was tedious meetings and conferences where his expertise was still sought after, but the absence of a much-needed adrenaline rush at the end of it often left him subconsciously bouncing a leg up and down underneath the desk. He continued to cling to cigarettes and alcohol to begin with, but they didn’t seem to have the same effect in Madrid as they did in Colombia. Without the physicality of being in the field or his usual coping mechanisms, he’d taken up running; partly because he needed the exercise and partly to dispel the nervous energy that ran through him like a taut rope in danger of snapping at any minute.

Now he was working more regular hours, he'd also gotten into the habit of visiting a nearby church in the evenings. He’d picked one grander in scale and architecture than those he was used to in Medellín; his anonymity protected by the hustle and bustle of lingering tourists and the stained-glass panels refracting the dim candlelight into the cavernous ceiling above, as he sat in a shadow-laden pew with only penitence and the cloying aroma of incense for company.

He was drawn there by a combination of being without his cross for the first time in years and his need to feel closer to the person now wearing it; and to the person who gave him it in the first place. His thoughts turned to Trujillo and the rest of his men too, hoping they all returned home safely to their families each night and that whoever his replacement was made the effort to know the names of each and every one of them. He thought of Diana Turbay’s family and the young woman at La Dispensaria, who he realised with a stab of hypocrisy he didn’t know the name of.

He wondered how his father would have handled Escobar, how different his own choices would have been if he was still around; how in both scenarios he couldn’t envisage himself ending up here. But then, it was hard to imagine his father and Javier co-existing in his life in the way he would have wanted them to, so perhaps it was for the best they never overlapped. The rest of his family didn’t worry him quite so much on that front, although his preferences were still a deeply buried secret. Until Javier, he’d assumed it would always remain that way, but now that didn’t seem feasible in the long run.

Hiding that part of himself had become second nature ever since he was an eager, fresh-faced cadet at the academy. When what started out as innocently keeping each other warm under the flimsy standard issue bedsheets in his and his bunkmate’s shared quarters one cold winter, had spiralled into trembling touches and forbidden exploration in the dark. It was short-lived, never discussed or acknowledged in the light of day and no one was any the wiser, apart from Horacio of course, no matter how much he tried to suppress it; for the sake of his job, his family and his own safety.

He supposed that was how he started to compartmentalise other parts of himself as well; neatly separating and locking away his feelings like he was expected to maintain strict discipline in all areas of his life. Emotions hindered ruthlessness and efficiency and there had been no room for that in recent years. But the protective barriers he’d kept up for so long were starting to crumble at their foundations; muddying the waters and forcing him to confront that which he’d…not forgotten, but rather blocked out through necessity. It wasn’t an excuse, though. He would always have blood on his hands no matter what, but coming here every week, back to the same pew and sitting with the same remorse, was the least he could do.

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Horacio did his best to busy himself as much as possible in his free time, now that he had a lot more of it. With some trial and error, he had learnt which were the best cafés, bars and market stalls to make return trips to. He’d taken a liking to a particular café round the corner from his apartment, set back from the busier main road on a narrow, cobbled side street that was well-hidden unless you knew what you were looking for.

He managed to time his arrival well on weekends after his early morning run, whilst it was still quiet and his usual window seat in the corner was vacant. The exercise had done the job in waking him up, but the rich, stirring elixir of his first coffee of the day invigorated him like little else, whilst he leafed through a local paper and a several days’ old copy of El Espectador, which was always delivered to the Consulate. It was a ritual he couldn’t break, no matter how much it hurt to be on the outside looking in.

It was on his fourth or fifth visit that he caught the attention of the café owner, Señora Romero. Her voice and features radiated warmth and her skin was etched with deep lines that gave away the decades of memories now confined to the past, but it suited her. She was homely, much like the business she ran, and reminded Horacio of the matriarchs from his own family.

Perhaps it was his tensed shoulders and steadfast determination to avoid eye contact when her keen ear had picked up on his distinctive accent, but she quickly sensed his reluctance to divulge details about himself. Instead, she resorted to talking about everything and nothing; hardly coming up for air to allow Horacio to interject, but he didn’t mind and it took the pressure off.

In the short time he’d known her, he’d discovered she lived in the small apartment above the café, was a recent widow with three children and five grandchildren, the café was one of the oldest in Madrid, and her youngest daughter, Luisa, was set to take over the running of it in the near future.

Their meetings continued like this each weekend and Señora Romero had been kind enough to invite Horacio for dinner on several occasions, particularly around the holiday seasons, when she insisted that he experience every festive local delicacy imaginable. In return, he had offered to help with odd jobs around her apartment that she had mentioned in passing needed doing. He was painfully aware he had still hardly talked about himself beyond the basics, so he saw it as compensation for his overly guarded nature.

During one visit, Señora Romero excitedly told Horacio about Luisa’s imminent wedding and of the preparations for it that would keep her busy throughout the forthcoming week. He had an inkling of where the conversation was headed, given how cagey he was and how it was abundantly clear he was unmarried.

“You should come to the reception, Horacio. I hear a couple of Luisa’s bridesmaids are available,” she mildly teased with a wink, breaking off from rolling out pastry in the kitchen to bring them both a glass of her homemade lemonade.

Warmth rapidly spread to his cheeks as he took a sip of his drink and turned his focus back to the shelf he had been lining up against the wall. “Oh, I, erm, thanks, but I’m not really looking at the moment.”

“Ahhh just as I thought, your heart belongs to another back home?”

Horacio turned round in surprise and was met with a sympathetic head tilt and gentle smile; despite the fact he had never uttered a single sentence on the subject to anyone since arriving in Madrid.

“Errr something like that, yes.” He consciously kept his response short and vague, hoping that was enough of an answer to satisfy her curiosity.

“In that case, I shall say no more!” She clapped her hands together as if to draw a line under the conversation and returned to the kitchen, leaving Horacio to carry on with his handiwork, somewhat bemused and unexpectedly touched.

Señora Romero resumed her baking, humming and smiling to herself as she worked; not only at the knowledge that her intuition was still as sharp as ever, but because the poor man clearly had no idea he wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was.

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Horacio’s life had gradually taken on a calm domesticity that he hadn’t known for years, if at all. He couldn’t deny he still missed the thrill of the chase and his arrival in Madrid had been akin to going cold turkey; but as time passed, it was as though the city was showing him a glimpse of what his – and Javier’s – life could be like after the danger, violence and bloodshed were over. When he could stop being exclusively Colonel Carrillo and start being Horacio again.

For all his frustrations, the burden on his shoulders was lighter than it had been in a long time. As much as he still ached for Javier – particularly at night – he had found it easier to sleep here. There were the usual nightmares to contend with sometimes, but at least he hadn’t created brand new ones, and he’d tried to restrict his darker thoughts to his church visits as much as possible, now he wasn’t bringing work home in the way he used to.

However, one day Horacio found himself in eerily familiar territory, when a car bomb planted by ETA – a violent Basque separatist group, who ironically had also been linked to the Avianca Flight 203 bombing – exploded in close proximity to the army’s headquarters, killing several soldiers and a civilian.

The explosion could be felt from the Consulate. Several panes of glass had shattered around him from the shockwaves, triggering every alarm in the vicinity. Stepping out into the chaotic and smoke-filled streets, he immediately thought home as the charred, bitter air once again clogged his throat and lungs.

That evening, back at his apartment, he poured himself a whiskey, his first in a while. Despite the array of Spanish specialities on offer, he was happy to stick to his old faithful, the same brand he had stashed in his desk at Carlos Holguín that he and Javier used to work their way through on slow nights.

He sat in the armchair by the balcony doors, looking out across the shell-shocked city below as it came to terms with the day’s horrors. In warmer months, he would throw open the doors and sit outside, but it was early February, and there was a distinct chill in the air. Even in the height of summer here, the heat was different. It was drier and less oppressive, permitting him to breathe in a way Colombia didn't allow.

He reached for the phone on the nearby side table and dialled a number that was burnt into his memory by now. He heard the click on the other end of the line instantaneously.

“Thank fuck. You took your time.”

“Is that how you answer all your calls nowadays? DEA standards really are slipping.”

“You any idea what it’s been like waiting for you to call? I think I’ve worn the carpet out from all the pacing.” There was no real annoyance in Javier’s tone – not even at Horacio’s gentle teasing – just sheer relief.

“Hmm, now you mention it, I might have a vague idea of what that’s like, yes. I am fine, though. I promise.”

“When I heard the news, I couldn’t help but – well, you know…”

“I know.” Because, of course, he knew. They both did. This was what life had been like for them for too long.

“I wish you were here.”

“Me too.” Although, for the first time, it crossed Horacio’s mind that he might have preferred if Javier was with him instead. He wasn’t sure what that meant if anything.

“I’ve needed to hear your voice all day.” The rasp in Javier’s throat was more pronounced now, shifting the atmosphere into something else.

Horacio sensed it too, the notion that his mere words were something Javier pined for acting as a catalyst for the arousal swiftly beginning to bloom inside of him. “You’ve got me now. What else do you need?”

“Need your hands on me. And your mouth. Need to feel the weight of you on me, your arms pinning me down.” Need didn’t feel like an adequate enough word, though. It was a deep, palpable ache like nothing Javier had ever experienced, and it threatened to burn him from the inside out if he didn’t act soon.

“I’d give you everything. I always know what you need.”

“Fuck, Horacio. Keep talking. Need to hear you.”

Horacio did as he was asked, giving Javier what he needed – what they both needed – by leading him to his completion with his quiet yet commanding tone, calming the inferno and taking the burden of decision-making away as Javier followed every instruction to the tee. All the while, Horacio offered praise and reassurance, pouring the sweetest filth into his ear as though he was inside his head, heart and soul rather than across the Atlantic. They gasped each other’s names into their empty rooms like a private prayer, somehow still connected in every way despite the miles between them.

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It wasn’t long before Colombia was on edge once more, the peace and normality of the last year already becoming a distant memory. Following a siege at La Catedral, at which the Vice Minister for Justice was taken hostage, Escobar slipped through his enemies’ fingers yet again. He was on the run and more dangerous than ever.

Amongst all of the chaos, the DEA were relocated to Carlos Holguín of all places. As they approached the main entrance on their first day back, Javier could see Horacio’s old office and almost could have convinced himself he was still in there. There were shadows of him everywhere; the sea of bottle green uniforms across the base repeatedly tricking Javier’s senses into a false sense of security as he scanned the men’s faces just in case.

Nothing, however, was more jarring than their introduction to Horacio’s replacement, Colonel Pinzón. He tolerated the DEA’s presence, but immediately made it known he called the shots and preferred to hold them at arm’s length. A fact that was only reiterated further when he showed them to their new office, if you could call it that, which amounted to little more than a cluttered corner filled with broken furniture, rusting filing cabinets, boxes upon boxes of abandoned paperwork and a calendar from 1962.

Dealing with Pinzón became something of a diplomatic negotiation for Javier and was a world away from how he was used to operating with Horacio at the helm. Even when Pinzón did agree to lend them manpower and vehicles to chase up an anonymous tip-off at a local brothel, Javier was left to lead the operation. Horacio would have taken charge with no questions asked; an arrangement that had always suited Javier just fine, but now that responsibility was on his shoulders.

To make matters worse, Steve received a phone call from Connie in the middle of their strategy meeting. Javier couldn’t hear the full conversation, but it was impossible to miss the panic in Steve’s voice.

“She’s at the airport,” he explained once Connie had hung up, the shock and desperation written all over his face.

Fuck. Javier hadn’t spoken much with her recently and there hadn’t been the opportunity for any repeat conversations of the one they shared the day Steve went missing. He knew enough to guess what this was about, though. Knew enough of Steve’s erratic behaviour and more than knew enough of the potential consequences that came with it. “Go.” No amount of rushing to the airport would have helped him and Horacio, but maybe there was still a chance for them.

However, not only was Steve too late to stop Connie and Olivia from leaving for Miami, his temper got the better of him and he found himself carted off in handcuffs; knuckles bloodied and bruised from his violent exploits against a couple of unsuspecting, coked-up businessmen.

Javier couldn’t help the dry smile and shake of his head at the sense of déjà vu when he turned up at Steve’s apartment the following day. He found it littered with a variety of half drained bottles and empty cans, cigarette butts and Steve himself in desperate need of a shower and change of clothes.

Luckily for Steve, they had already patched things up after the incident with the Cali cartel – Steve had apologised and accepted Javier’s CIA theory and that was the end of it – and Javier had put in a good word for him with their new boss, Messina; assuring her it was a one-off and he was a good agent going through a rough patch. His job was safe, but there was no getting away from him being a broken mess.

“Listen, thanks for talking to Messina, man.” Javier turned to Steve in the passenger seat and nodded before looking back at the road. “I mean it. You saved my ass.”

Javier pursed his lips as he shook his head. “One more fuck-up, Murphy…”

“Oh, I know.”

“Is it gonna happen again?”

Steve sighed and rested his chin in his hand. “I don’t know,” he drawled into his fingers, as he turned away from Javier in favour of the view out of the window.

“Steve, come on. I might not be able to help you if there’s a next time. Look what happened to Carrillo.” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that, but the words had tumbled out of their own accord. Javier reasoned there was relevance here, at least and he couldn’t just sit by and watch Steve make the same mistakes.

Steve huffed through his nostrils. “Yeah, well I’m nothin’ like him, so don’t worry about that.”

It took everything in Javier to keep his eyes focused ahead and his face straight, although the same couldn’t be said for his raised brow. “Right, of course.” That was the best he could manage without his voice betraying him.

“I’ll do better from now on. I just don’t do well without her, y’know? She keeps me grounded.”

Javier wanted to say so much; that of course he knew, that he was in very much the same boat and didn’t blame Steve for snapping. That he was curious to know if Steve had any idea at all given that Connie had figured it out and, in a way, he wished she had told Steve, so at least there’d be no more secrets; but at the same time, he was scared of what he’d think of him if he knew the truth.

Instead, he hummed in acknowledgement and carried on driving, allowing the low playing music from the radio to fill the silence he couldn’t.

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Although Medellín had been under martial law since Escobar’s jailbreak, many locals still hailed him as a man of the people, and, following a failed raid on the finca he’d been hiding out in, as someone whose family had been unfairly chased out of their home by the police in the dead of night.

Whilst the DEA would have picked the stealthier option of surrounding Escobar and taking him by surprise, that wasn’t Colonel Pinzón’s style. Instead, his brash and conspicuous approach had the effect of giving the sicarios a heads up of their arrival, which was never going to be enough to catch a man who prided himself on staying one step ahead of the authorities.

Whether it was blind loyalty, or fear, it didn’t matter; Escobar’s supporters were his eyes and ears on the ground and were a ticking time bomb ready to explode upon his say so. The botched raid was seen as an act of war and was all the ammunition needed to provoke yet more violence, with Pablo’s men launching an attack on the CNP.

The streets were once again awash with blood and Carlos Holguín resembled a war zone in the immediate aftermath, with the walking wounded scattered amongst those more seriously injured and those who didn’t make it. The base’s hospital wing was overflowing and it was all-hands-on-deck to assist wherever needed.

Javier ran out to the main entrance to be met with a wall of shouts and cries from all directions, not knowing who to help first. It struck him just how young a lot of the men were, some barely out of their teens. The absurdity of so many willing to die for one man, whether fighting for his cause or against it, had never felt starker, as he glanced down at the line of body bags that was bound to be added to in alarming numbers over the course of the next few hours.

He couldn’t help but think of Horacio, no matter how selfish it was at a time like this; when he was most likely sat safely behind a desk thousands of miles away. Javier couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty for being relieved he was, though. Even if it wasn’t what Horacio wanted, it was a blessing in disguise. But then, Javier was confident Horacio would never have handled the raid in the way Pinzón had and then none of this would have happened in the first place.

The steady stream of casualties eventually reduced to a manageable level. But Javier couldn’t head straight back into the fray and needed to catch his breath first. He wandered down one of the quieter corridors of the school that wasn’t currently in use and picked what appeared to be an empty room to hide in for a while but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Trujillo kneeling on the floor.

Trujillo's head was bowed, his hands in prayer with a string of rosary beads clutched between his fingers, but he looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s okay, Peña, I was almost done anyway.” Trujillo attempted a weary, half-smile that didn’t remotely reach the corners of his red eyes.

It occurred to Javier he had always taken Trujillo’s age for granted. He had been such an instrumental part of Search Bloc, had borne the weight of so much grief at the hands of the cartel, with the loss of his father and brothers, and had gained the full trust and respect of Horacio, which was no mean feat.

Words had never been Javier’s strong point, and the usual platitudes seemed trite, as though they were more about easing his own conscience than soothing another’s pain. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, unsure how to help – or if he even could – his fingers unintentionally catching on the chain that had remained hidden since the day Horacio left. He was suddenly reminded of Cartagena. When he had glanced up from the maps on the table in front of him to see Horacio joining Trujillo in prayer, presumably a ritual they had shared before charging into the unknown, fully aware they or their comrades might not return.

Javier may not have set foot in a church since the preparations for his wedding and had experienced something of a lapsed relationship with faith over the years. But he crossed the threshold into the room and knelt on the cold, tiled floor alongside Trujillo.

Trujillo’s eyes followed his movements in mild confusion, but he accepted the gesture with a brief nod of thanks. They lowered their heads and clasped their palms together, united in grief and solace, both no doubt wishing their Colonel would return, even if it was for different reasons.

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The news of Escobar’s escape and the subsequent attacks on the CNP soon reached the Consulate. For all of Horacio’s wishful thinking of a peaceful life in a distant future, the latest developments stirred up the familiar thirst for vengeance that had laid dormant inside him for the last year, but was now coursing freely through his veins. It was like re-opening an old wound and if truth be told, the self-destructive side of him that he hadn’t quite conquered was glad it hadn’t healed.

He was too proud a man to ask, let alone beg, and deep down, he didn’t think he really deserved another chance, regardless of how much he wanted it. Which was why he never saw it coming.

A week after the carnage, he was about to leave his office to attend a meeting when the phone rang. His successor had resigned and by some miracle, Gaviria wanted him back. It was a call to arms he couldn’t ignore and with a short exchange of words, it was settled. Horacio was going home.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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staytiny-present · 3 years

Text

Ateez Coraline!au

DUDE I’M DONE WITH SCHOOL WHICH MEANS I CAN WRITE MORE YAYYYY!

anyway, this is meant to be a little headcanon thing for a series i’ve been planning that is, obviously, based on the movie coraline. it’ll be a reader insert for you to enjoy as well :) this is basically a “ateez as characters in coraline,” but my plan is to still make them unique to the story. i hope you like this!

warnings: this does not match at all swearing, angsty situations, borderline crack (you’ll see), i think i make one sex joke, allusions to depression - PLEASE take caution when you read yunho’s part. i don’t think i go into any specifics, but his gets serious that i just want you to be aware

Reader’s backstory: you’ve lived with your grandmother who owns the pink palace apartments since you were a teenager so you can help her out as she gets older. the pink palace isn’t the most well-known, but it’s gotten a pretty negative rap since the disappearance of your best friend in high school. it’s hard living there still, but you know your grandma needs the support. you know nearly all of the ins and outs of the place, and all of the tenants adore both you and your grandma

Wooyoung and Yeosang ~ Spink and Forcible

tell me i’m wrong

that’s right you can’t

they’ve been friends for years and bicker and tease each other like they’re married and still love and support each other? yeah

wooyoung and yeosang are childhood friends

they mostly did dance in high school but they were also in theater, and they were kinda well known for being The Best™

they were recruited to join a lot of teams and a lot of colleges wanted them because they were just??? amazing??? how tf??

so yeah they earned a lot of recognition in high school that honestly got them really famous from when they were 16 onward

it’s been a few years since then and so the hype around them has definitely died down but we’ll get to that

they are currently still working on stuff in regards to dancing and acting

they’re technically in college too, but they do online classes so they can stay at home and work on their shows

wooyoung is the idealist while yeosang is the realist

like i said, they act like an old married couple always bickering and fighting but they really do love each other

ride or die best friends dude

it’s just that they say they’ll do certain things or are planning things soon and it just… doesn’t happen

that’s mostly idealist woo talking before yeosang can reign him in

so for years it’s been a lot of empty promises of new work that many people just stopped expecting things from them

and because of that they’ve past their peak and are basically just in limbo before they are actually able to make/perform their next show or something like that

they rent the basement apartment of the pink palace, and they’ve technically lived in there the longest actually

growing up, both of their families lived there so that was how they met and became the best of friends :)

they didn’t want to leave either but they had to for a couple years

but at least they stayed together :)

their families moved back when the boys were about a year into high school just because the old woman who owns the place is a gem and the city had a great school for them to go to

while they were living there though a boy around their age went missing, and it basically convinced their families that they should move out

wooyoung and yeosang were very adamant about staying, so their families told them you’re either moving away with us or finding a way to pay for the apartment yourselves

so the next day wooyoung and yeosang went out and found themselves some jobs so that they could

it upset their parents sure, but they were also kinda proud that they took so much initiative about this - they knew they would succeed in life

it also factored into why grandma let them stay because she knew the same thing

the sweet woman even said she would help them out from time to time :(

then cue the next 3-4 years where woo and yeo are making a bunch of money with their dances teams and performing in shows

they’ve gotten a good amount of money over the years that they’ve been able to renovate the basement so that it’s really nice

now they have posters of their “golden years” (as wooyoung says) from high school and their first years of college all around their place

they have a dog and have been seriously considering getting more because he’s getting kind of old :(

they don’t really get out much bc they are constantly trying to plan and work on their shows, but it’s fine because there’s nothing really close to the pink palace :/ the closest city where they went to school is quite the commute

but because of all this - the empty promises, the lack of activity, the radio silence - no one really takes them seriously anymore, and really people just stopped believing in them

it’s a major factor in their motivation and work ethic, but they try their hardest not to let it deter them from what they want to do in life

Mingi, San, and Jongho ~ The Amazing Bobinsky

trust me here ok?

mingi, san, and jongho start their own circus right out of high school

hear me out

the boys all went to high school together, but jongho is a year younger than them so they all graduated at different times

however they had a lot of classes together because they didn’t really care much about school and it reflected on their academics

so they were put in a lot of lower classes together that they all did well in, they just didn’t care about school

their circus started out as a joke honestly

it was probably edgy teen jongho who was like “ugh i hate school i should just drop out and join the circus”

and it became a running joke between them like haha yeah let’s join the circus, who would we all be tho?

mingi and san were both very adamant that jongho would be the strongman what with all his fruit breaking endeavors and the buff buff arms dude

san did martial arts and liked dancing and was very flexible so he was like ayy i’ll be the acrobat

it took them a while to decide what mingi would be because they were like “huh well what about the lion tamer?” “you know how much of a fraidy cat he is?” “ok well what about a trapeze artist?” “he’s a great dancer and flexible sure, but would he ever be able to have that kind of coordination?” “ok fine then what about a clown?” “fuck you guys”

they chose sword swallower mostly because like??? how does it work?? idk mingi should find out

and yeah for a while it was a running joke between all of them like yeah we’re gonna drop out of school and join the circus lol

but then come mingi and san’s senior year and they were like… hang on

could… could we actually do this? it sounds fun as hell

it went as far as them all researching circuses in their spare time and income and how to go about joining one

and it ended with them not wanting to live the lifestyle of a traveling circus

sure it sounded cool as fuck, but while they were somewhat willing to live with those conditions, they weren’t willing enough

so the next best thing for them would be to start their own circus

of course, how do you tell your parents that what you want to be when you grow up is a circus performer?

the answer: you don’t

whenever they were asked things likes “oh what do you want to do in college?” they all just kinda passed it off as they didn’t know, but in reality they didn’t really have any desire to go to college

you don’t need a degree to start a circus, so they didn’t really want to

once mingi and san graduated, they immediately started looking for affordable apartments where they could do their thing - start their circus

in all honesty they started looking before they graduated too, partially since they would be moving out after hs but also because they just felt better about not living with their parents

they had seen the pink palace in the newspaper a lot with a vacant attic apartment, and basically since they found out about it they were sold on it

a weird place in the middle of nowhere run by a woman who doesn’t mind housing younger people? perfect

they actually met her before they graduated so they could see about renting the apartment sooner or later

grandma all but told them it was there’s once she met the boys, and she understands that when they are finally able to start living there they will be pretty tight on money, so she doesn’t even make them pay the down payment - she does that herself and holds the apartment for them

because let’s face it: the pink palace isn’t very big,, it already has a good amount of people living there,,, how many people are actually gonna consider moving to the middle of nowhere to actually live there?

plus she likes these three boys, so she wants to help them as much as she can

so yeah once mingi and san graduate, they are basically ready to move into the pink palace

but this is technically after that boy went missing and after the case turned cold, so grandma doesn’t want to rent to anyone new

but she already assured the boys that the attic was theirs, and she’s not about to break that promise

so before giving the boys the keys she gives them the lowdown of what’s been going on and what will happen in the future

they know the boy went missing, but she explains to them all that happened and that it gives the pink palace a bad rap (even though she hardly cares about that), so she wouldn’t normally be doing something like this but they will be the last people she lets rent from her

and they don’t completely understand because they have no idea what this has been doing to the poor old woman, but they understand enough and are grateful for her that she’s still letting them live there

they decide then that it would be better for jongho to start living with them now even before he’s graduated just so it’s less of a change for grandma in the future

which jongho is totally okay with because he honestly would rather live with them anyway

but uh yeah mingi, san, and jongho are the last ones to start renting at the pink palace for a long while

they split rent three ways so that it’s less burdensome on them, and they all have jobs so that they can afford it

mingi and san work full time while jongho has a part time job while he finishes school

but full time they are all preparing and planning their circus!!

takes a lot of throat training for mingi 😏 since he is literally putting swords down his throat, and he started this basically right when they decided their circus was going to be real

san and jongho have advantages because they already have some skill in their areas, but that doesn’t mean they don’t train

san still takes martial arts and dance, and he’s even signed up for gymnastics to help him with his flexibility

jongho basically spends all of his spare times working out (mostly lifting weights) so that he can really be strong

but also jongho has a thing for rats/mice and is like “hey,, why don’t we use them for something so that it’s not just us?”

and the boys lowkey are like wtf dude why but then again who are they to shut down his ideas when they are literally starting a circus?

so they’re like fine but that’s on you to decide how to do that and to plan the act

jongho: yessss ratssss

also jongho: NO they’re not RATS they’re MICE these are MICE THANK YOU

this is the “jumping mice” aspect of the coraline movie with bobinsky just fyi

a lot of jongho’s time in school is spent in the science and psychology departments talking to teachers about animals (specifically rats/mice) and how to train and work with them

the teachers are all kinda like… what? but also they are just happy that jongho is interested in something enough to come to the teachers and ask questions and apply himself

lmao it’s not for school tho

so he learns a lot of this information at school and honestly this might be the only thing he learns at school because soon enough he’s graduating with a bunch of knowledge on how to work with and train animals

once out of high school he starts working full time too so that money and rent is even easier

all of their extra money that isn’t toward rent and bills and groceries go to their circus

they hardly ever buy new clothes unless it’s something for their circus

also the boys had to go to grandma to ask if they could house mice in their apartment, and while it was a hard no (unless they were trained and wouldn’t cause trouble), jongho still smuggled them in

grandma knows about it too (bc she knows everything that goes on for the most part lmao) but she doesn’t say anything because they don’t cause trouble and she likes the boys

the day one of them gets loose and starts terrorizing and infesting the pink palace is the day she intervenes and tells them to get rid of them

but jongho is actually really good at training the mice so it’s fine

my point surrounding all of this is to say that mingi, san, and jongho are in the long and arduous stage of their lives and their circus of planning and preparing everything

they only make so much money and have so many resources that setting up their circus and doing everything to prepare is going to take a long time before they can actually open and show people what they’ve been working on

they’ve been doing it for a few years now and they’ve still hardly made a dent

they have to train and perfect their acts sure, but they also have to do all of the logistical stuff like advertising, selling tickets, finding venues, paying for safety and legal stuff, etc.

and these boys are only in their early 20s, so it’s gonna take a while before they can actually open their circus

but they are determined and passionate, so if this is what they have to do then they will happily do it

Yunho ~ The Ghost Children

oh god this is gonna start getting serious i’m sorry

in case you can’t tell, yunho is the boy that goes missing from the pink palace

he and his family lived in the pink palace from when he was pretty young until he was in high school

he was also really good friends with wooyoung and yeosang because they were all the same age

however he was... not happy

he always worked his ass off dancing because that’s what he wanted to do, but it meant his grades in school tanked

this would obviously be worrying to some parents, and his gave him an ultimatum

either get your grades up and start taking school seriously, or you’re not going to be allowed to continue your dance lessons

the answer was clear to yunho, so he told his dance teacher that he would be taking a break for a bit so he can focus on school

everything was fine until he realized his parents had zero intentions of letting him go back anyway

he didn’t understand,, his grades were getting better so why couldn’t he go back?

to put it plainly, his parents said this:

“what kind of career could you make out of dance? you’ll never succeed”

it was crushing

it was then that yunho realized that his own parents didn’t care about what he wanted and was passionate about

he didn’t think they ever would either, so he just sort of... stopped believing in them

it wasn’t all bad because he had his closest friends and grandma (who treated him like her own grandson)

but he had some pretty bad days that made the happy and energetic boy almost completely unrecognizable

he would look at wooyoung and yeosang and see how successful they were despite still being in school

he would see how their talent was rightfully recognized and sought after

and he would get down on himself, thinking how he wanted the same thing but fearing no one would see him

that’s why he worked hard at everything he did, why his motivation plummeted, and why he nearly wore himself out before even graduating

but one day he started acting strange

everyone noticed how a switch seemed to flip in him

that excited glimmer was back in his eyes, and no one knew why

don’t get me wrong, everyone was so happy to see the smiley yunho was back, but everyone wanted to know what happened

but he hardly made any sense when he told them

he supposedly found a place in the pink palace where he could do what he wanted, but whenever he tried showing anyone he couldn’t? the door was bricked up

everyone started thinking he made it up, that the stress was finally getting to him and he dreamt up a place like this so he wouldn’t lose his mind

that glimmer was gone again, and he stopped trying to talk to people

in fact, he closed himself off from everyone

the day he went missing was the scariest day for everyone in the pink palace

everyone was devastated, but it completely changed his parents

grandma advised them to move out while the police investigated, but they refused despite how hard it was

but after a year the case became cold

no one could find yunho nor could anyone figure out what happened to him

he just disappeared without a trace

his parents still tried to stay though because they needed to find out what happened to their son

but they couldn’t. no one could

it wasn’t long before they too found it best that they move out of the pink palace

it was just too painful

that was the last time grandma ever rented to anyone new, so the apartment became completely vacant for years

even after they left, no one was able to figure out what happened to yunho

Seonghwa ~ The Black Cat

geomeun goyangi nero nero nero

uhhhh yeah seonghwa’s a cat lmao

he’s not owned by anyone and doesn’t have a collar or anything

he’s a stray that has been around for a while

he showed up pretty soon after yunho started distancing himself from people, but not soon enough for people to think that he’s an omen or something

and he’s not exactly

idk really how to explain it so i won’t lmao

he just sort of became the pink palace’s cat???

grandma takes responsibility for him though and makes sure he’s fed and has a place to rest and play if he ever feels like it

which is nice and all but he doesn’t?? do any of those things?

he comes and goes a lot sure,,, no one really knows where he goes but they know he’ll be back

but when he hangs out around the pink palace? he just... wanders?

it’s hard to explain but it’s almost like he is surveying the domain, like he’s searching for something wrong

he’s a weird cat

not only that though, but he doesn’t eat? or sleep? at all???

at least no one ever sees him sleeping or eating

he’s always getting into shit tho, like he’s always there when you don’t want him to be

there have been many times wooyoung has kicked him out of the apartment because the dogs hate him

mingi and san also try to keep him out because of jongho and his rats mice, but honestly jongho is pretty cool with him

because he doesn’t do anything to the mice? he literally just sits there and watches with wide and curious eyes

sure jongho worries about hwa one day stealing one of his mice for grandma to see so that she can make him get rid of them or kick them out but that’s not going to happen right?

hwa is chill tho, so jongho is chill

the cat would follow yunho around a lot, and a lot of times they were seen curled up together

yunho would be taking a nap the poor boy but hwa wouldn’t

he would just be there to comfort him :(

honestly he liked yunho and his best friend the most and everyone could tell jongho was a close second tho

they all came to start calling him mars instead of The Cat™ since they didn’t know his name

they still call him The Cat™ when he pisses them off but i digress

despite how fucking weird he is though, everyone at the pink palace basically loves him

he’s just Their Cat™ ok?

sure he might be annoying and shifty, or he might be haunted, or he might even be immortal

he’s a really weird cat dude

but he’s part of the family,, they gotta love him

Hongjoong ~ Coraline

curtesy of inception era hongjoong

so joong is our main man here

at first he had no relation to the pink palace whatsoever,, he had never even heard of it

he lived with a friend in a fairly large city before and it was fine and all but WOW was it expensive

and it was honestly very stifling to hongjoong,,, he couldn’t really do everything he wanted to do there

he found the pink palace by accident

he was searching up affordable apartments to live in places that have good weather and conditions for gardening

let me explain though

hongjoong is in his downward stretch of college for a journalism degree, but he’s taking online classes with his move so that he can focus on that and working

he wants to work in gardening and writing, but he also really just wants to make stuff

his realistic plan is to work in journalism and write for like a gardening magazine or journal while gardening as a “side project” or something (like coraline’s parents do)

did somebody say florist joong? because i did

the dream job though would be to work in song writing or fashion or something artistic like that

he likes painting and making/customizing clothes so he would like to be able to make a career out of that

his goal is to eventually make his own business or store where he makes and sells affordable and sustainable clothes and accessories

he’s going for a degree in journalism with a minor in business, but he has been struggling with both so he has been debating dropping business

arguably it would be better for him to stick with business but most people in his life have told him he’s better in journalism and so he keeps at that mostly

he feels unfulfilled - he wants to plant a garden, he wants to make and alter clothes customly, he wants to make music

but he isn’t able to do any of that because what are the odds any of that ends up working as a career?

it might work for a little while but in the future he would technically be a small business, and maintaining a small business is difficult

at least with writing and working for a magazine/journal is stable

however it’s not what he’s most passionate about, thus he finds it hard to have motivation to work

he feels like a zombie going through his days the same as the last, just trying to get through school before he gets a 9-5 job that he’ll hate within a year (if that) doing something he doesn’t want to do

but hey, that’s adult life, isn’t it?

he doesn’t like to complain and feels guilty when he is ungrateful for his circumstances because he knows plenty of people (his parents included) that went down this route who ended up fine, which means he will too

the one person who always told him to go after what he wanted was his mom even though she technically “settled” in life

holy shit did i digress

but yeah in his search for an affordable place to live with good weather, there wasn’t a lot

but he also wanted a drastic change from what he was used to, and that was the pink palace

it was practically in the middle of nowhere, and the pictures (while pretty dull) showed potential for a great garden

it was perfect

however

it was a hard no from grandma when he called about possibly renting, so he wasn’t expecting her to call him back at all

grandma didn’t want to risk anything because of what happened with yunho

but with some convincing, she realized that she couldn’t keep holding on

while what happened was horrible, there was nothing that could be done as sad as it was

so she called hongjoong back about when the best time to come look at the pink palace would be

and the rest is history

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 3 years

Text

(submission) The Undertow

(tws for temporary death, drowning, and separation)

The tide washes out.

False opens her eyes to a brand-new world, filled with life and color. Around her, a coral reef stretches as far as she can see. Fish dart between the branches of the reef and through the pitted rocks underfoot.

What’s odd, though, is that she’s stuck.

Something, she thinks, is very wrong. She glances down at her body, which is wrapped in the rough branches of some sort of calciferous red growth, and as much as she struggles, she can’t move, the surface rubbing against her skin.

Behind her, she hears a frenzied splashing. She can’t turn around all the way, so she shouts to whatever’s behind her.

“Get away from me!” she yells. If it’s a drowned, maybe she can scare it away. If it’s something worse...well. She wasn’t expecting a death this early in the season, but it had to happen at some point.

Luckily, it’s just a human that calls back.

“False? Where are we?” asks Stress, her distinctive voice putting False back at ease. What passes for ease when you’re stuck in a coral reef, anyways.

“I...don’t know,” False says, enunciating each syllable with careful precision, considering the options. “This is glitched, I suppose.”

False can almost see Stress’s face brighten. “Oh, shame. Well, our dear admin will have it fixed in no time, then.”

“Yeah, I’ll send him a message. Maybe he can teleport us out real quick.” She sighs. “We’re going to have to restart the world, probably. That’s annoying.” Taking out her communicator, which is only slightly waterlogged, she swipes it open and types out a quick chat to Xisuma.

<FalseSymmetry> o/

<FalseSymmetry> x we’re stuck in coral. tp please?

The two women wait. Five minutes.

“Might as well start trying to get out of here!” Stress says, her voice a note cheerier than usual. It’s forced.

False snaps out of her thoughts. “Sure.” She takes her fist and slams it down on their colorful prison. “Oof, that hurt,” she says, peering down at the spot where it made contact. “And barely a dent!”

“Guess we better get working, then,” replies Stress, who’s trying her best not to sound too downhearted.

They do. It’s not going great when Stress notices a bit of a change in their environment. “Falsie...do you think it’s possible the water might be getting the teensiest bit higher?”

False nods grimly. “Yep.”

Stress grimaces. “Oh boy. And Xisuma still hasn’t replied?”

“Nope.”

“Ah.”

A moment passes in a nervous silence while the duo continue to chip away at the coral.

“You don’t think he’s ignoring us, do you?” Stress says, a small quaver creeping its way into her quiet words.

“Of course not. He’s probably just...busy.” False stops and cocks her head. “You know. I bet if our spawn is glitched, other peoples’ might be as well.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

A small wave washes over them. When they reemerge, coughing from the salty water, they find that Stress can no longer keep her chest above the ocean.

“This isn’t going to be a pleasant way to die, is it?” asks Stress, hands bleeding from the abrasive reef.

False shakes her head. “No. It isn’t.”

The ocean is not a kind place. It never pretended to be. The two Hermits just happened to be in its way, and that was not the ocean’s fault.

The tide rolls in, just as False’s hand finds Stress’s.

The tide washes out.

Their newly-respawned heads break the surface of the water, gasping for air. This time, they’re face-to-face, and the coral is yellow. False wonders if it’s slightly softer than the previous kind, or if she’s just imagining it. Either way. Small blessings.

Their eyes meet, and they pick up where they left off, only a touch sore. They don’t talk much this time around, except for Stress’s question about the message to Xisuma. And yes, False double-checked it was to the right person. She sends it again in the main chat.

<FalseSymmetry> anyone there lol?

Silence. On all fronts. Stress is making good progress on this new coral, until they both have to stop to fight an inquisitive drowned. Not an easy feat, but they manage, though the duo lose more hearts than False would like.

Stress manages to get a leg free and starts kicking with renewed vigor, until she’s finally out. The water is lapping at their mouths now, as Stress frantically tugs at False’s cage.

“C’mon,” Stress mutters. “We’re almost there…”

A wave knocks them both underwater, and by the time Stress resurfaces, further away from False, the blond Hermit is completely submerged.

Stress thinks that she has never swum faster in her life as she races toward False, hoping against hope that there’s somehow still time to save her.

She dives down to False, who is wriggling around frantically. She tugs against the coral, but she knows it’s too late. False lets out a scream, bubbles escaping to the surface, but points to Stress’s left. She’s confused, but she looks anyways--and the trident from the dead drowned is sitting placidly on a piece of sponge, unseen by both of them until now.

Stress pushes off the battered coral, so close to breaking, but too far, all at the same time. She scoops up the trident and swims back to False, who’s starting to slow, eyes rolling up in the back of her head. With a mighty swipe, she clears the rest of the prison, and drags the unconscious False to the shore.

Stress retches, the ocean coming out of her lungs in short bursts as she collapses on the warm sand. Next to her, False lies prone. She doesn’t know what to do. Should she put her on her side? Wait, isn’t that for drunk people?

Hopefully, False will sort it out on her own. Hopefully. In the meantime, Stress realizes that the sun is setting. She needs to get them in a shelter, ASAP. There’s no time for even wood--she just digs out a small hole in a nearby hillside, and, breathing heavily, brings False’s body into it. It just barely fits both of them, but she’s grateful to have it.

Stress can’t even think about dying again, if it means having to get out of that ocean. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to; False stirs to wakefulness sometime in the middle of the night, greeted with a motley chorus of zombie groans and drowned gurgles, plus a few others that neither of them want to try to name.

They huddle together in the small chamber, wet dirt and cold stone stealing precious body heat. When morning comes, they stay there for a little while. Neither one wants to be the first one out, but eventually False stands up, the joints in her spine cracking like fireworks. She peeks her head out, but there seems to be no imminent danger at the moment, so she cautiously ventures onto the beach from their escape. A spider lies perched in a small tree nearby, but she leaves it be. As she looks out over the glimmering water, alight with the sun’s first rays, she sees the broken branches of the coral that trapped her and Stress, waves gently carrying away the scattered shards. She watches them for a second, and as she does, the tide washes out.

The tide rolls in.

They’re so careful. Neither one of them wants to go back to the awful enclosure of stony coral and risk having to repeat the experience. Monsters are run away from, shelters are dotted around the map like flowers, and their armor has never been more prized. The duo have awful luck mining, though. They barely get enough for decent gear, but Stress reminds False that they’re lucky. Judging by the death messages that scroll through the chat like clockwork, not everyone has been as fortunate as them. And at least they have each other.

Or they did, before Stress falls into a soft bed of bone-chilling powder snow, along with a few creeper friends.

False doesn’t ever want to see that same look on Stress’s face ever again. It’s imprinted into her mind now, a mix of surprise and awful resignation.

She types out a frantic message on her communicator. It doesn’t work. It hasn’t worked for weeks now. She knows it doesn’t work, and Stress does as well. But it doesn’t stop her from imagining where her only companion is right now, sending her chat after chat, begging her to come help her escape from the watery grave.

False considers respawning. Back where Stress is. She could help her then.

False would consider herself a practical person at heart, but she has never before been in a situation like this. Hermitcraft has never had a situation like this. She considers her options, falling back against the rough trunk of an oak tree, leaves raining down on her impassive face.

<StressMonster101> drowned.

She’s taking too much time. There’s no more room for error. Only action. Rustling through her pack, stuffed to the brim now with the remains of Stress’s inventory, she realizes that she has to find a way to get these items back to Stress. If she manages to escape on her own, they can meet up halfway there, and if she doesn’t, then False will have her work cut out for her.

It’s a backtrack of nearly two weeks. False does it in four days, not stopping to rest. She wishes desperately for a saddle, but when she happens upon a meadow full of horses, she grabs the nearest one, swinging herself upward onto the back of a very unwilling participant. False doesn’t care. The horse accustoms itself to her surprisingly quickly, and though False’s legs ache from the non-stop bareback ride, she knows she’ll get to Stress sooner with it. Turns out, golden apples can make a horse go through the night.

She names the horse Salvation. Sal, for short.

The journey gives her brain too much time to think, so she doesn’t, just hangs on to the death messages in the chat. It’s gruesome, but they reassure her that Stress is even still in this horrible world.

Sometimes, there’ll be a lull in the terrible rhythm, but those never last for long.

During a quick break, she gets bored and puts a braid in Sal’s mane, then uses a few of the nearby flowers to decorate it. She doesn’t realize until she re-mounts him that they’re alliums.

The tide washes out.

When False finally arrives at their old beach, she nearly cries in relief. Instead, she screams out Stress’s name as she jumps off of Sal’s back. Stumbling into the waves, she repeats her cry, voice already starting to go hoarse.

“Stress! I’m here!” False shouts. “Stress!”

She’s up to her neck now and there’s no sign of her. Maybe she made it out. Maybe False would believe that if she hadn’t just seen her death message on her communicator.

False treads water, weaving between the elaborate natural structures that make up the reef. She’s almost about to give up when she hears a weak cough, and rounds the corner to find an emaciated Stress, hanging from the coral wrapping her body like an exoskeleton.

“Stress, Stress, I’m here,” says False, wrapping her arms around the other Hermit’s body as tears start to stream down her face. “Oh my g-d. We need to get you out of here.”

Stress looks up at her, the first sign of movement she’s shown since False laid eyes on the woman. “You came for me,” she whispers. “You really came.” Her eyes flutter shut.

The tide rolls in.

Stress wakes to a gently crying False, who’s sitting beside her on the beach. Attempting a smile, she nudges the other Hermit. “Doing alright?”

False smiles at her. “Never better.”

She lets out a whistle. “Ok, so, correct me if I’m wrong, but you managed to get here quite quickly, if you came all the way from where I left?”

“Sure did.”

“How?”

“Well, meet Sal,” False says, pointing towards the forest behind them. “He was a big help.”

Stress squeals, and she thinks she can almost feel her eyes getting bigger. “Are those flowers?” She hobbles over to the horse, latching onto his neck. “I love him!”

False laughs, and Stress thinks she’s never been gladder to hear someone do so.

“But seriously, though.” False pauses for a second. “I think he’s going to be pretty important if we’re heading towards spawn.”

Stress nods. “Yeah, I think that’s a good plan. Bound to be a bigger concentration of Hermits there, right?”

“Exactly. Listen, this time we’re going to be super careful about beds. I’ll make sure we upgrade our armor as much as possible. I’ll do better--”

Stress puts a finger up to False’s lips, startling her into silence. “Nope. You did the best you absolutely could. I will have absolutely no self-blaming on this road trip.”

“Road trip?” False asks, nose crinkling.

“Absolutely.” Stress responds. “This is Hermitcraft! We’re here to have fun and make friends. And I see only one direction for that.”

“To spawn, then!” False laughs, mounting Sal and hauling Stress up after her.

“To spawn!”

The ocean watches the two ride off with mild interest. They’ll be back, after all. Sooner or later, they’ll always be back. No one can leave for long. But for now, it has other...friends to take care of, and the tide, as always, washes out.

#false #stress #submission #Hermitcraft #scattered au #mod shade #i love this so much actually #it has such good calming vibes #and #not to be one track minded or anything but #'other friends'???#:shakyeyes: impulse....

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adammilligan · 4 years

Note

i ABSOLUTELY want to hear about the fantasy au!!!

OKAY! this is gonna be a ride so strap in. if it's incomprehensible and confusing then whatever let's do this anyway

so adam is from a town up in the far north, right. he lived there with kate until he was fourteen and kate (who worked as the town healer) passed away. kate was respected in the town because she was the best at her job but adam, as a bastard child, could never quite manage to win that same respect from the townspeople (and ofc it being a small town that same distrust generally gets passed down to children as well) so when his mom died adam was like yknow what? fuck it??? i'm leaving i'm out and if i'm gonna die of starvation sooner or later i'm at least gonna visit someplace beyond this icy wasteland for the first time in my life. so he takes what he knows about traveling through the snow and what little possessions he can carry with him and he just fucking. bails. if the town wants a healer they can do it themselves❤

so anyway he travels south and he damn near doesn't make it because he's fourteen and entirely unused to traveling because he's lived in the town his whole life and doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. but he's also stubborn as all fucking hell and doesn't let himself collapse until he starts seeing deciduous trees instead of coniferous and then he's like "wow. that's pretty" and just fucking faceplants. right in the grass.

so of course he doesn't die yet, right, he's found by somebody who drags his scrawny ass to some shelter and it turns out she's a sort of traveling healer??? and like...adam learned a lot from his mom but she was supposed to start REALLY teaching him when he was fifteen and obviously that didn't happen. so adam decides, since he has literally nowhere else to go and nothing else to live for basically, that he'll ask to be the woman's apprentice and (to his MAJOR fucking surprise) she accepts. so for the next six-ish years he basically spends time learning how to properly heal people and traveling along EVERYWHERE (he absolutely has a little summer fling with kristin in a seaside town. this is non-negotiable) and eventually all good things have to come to an end, right? so the woman isn't OLD old but she's certainly hitting an age and she decides that she's gonna settle down and just pass all her shit on to him and though he doesn't wanna leave the only person he's known for years he decides that he stills wants to Go Out and See Things and Help People and so they part ways.

meanwhile, in the world of royalty, there's a battle brewing because one kingdom just Will Not Fuck Off at the border between them and michael's acting as the prince regent right now because chuck is indisposed one way or another and he just sort of decides yknow what? fuck it? if these motherfuckers aren't going to leave then we're just gonna make them leave? and takes a party of knights down to the border to make them fuck off.

adam, who just so happened to be headed straight for the border, is not amused. but we'll get back to him in a moment.

anyway the fight starts, shit gets wild because there were more people down there than they thought, and michael's party is pretty much forced to in the midst of battle (like some "EVERY MAN FOR THEMSELVES" thing) but the PROBLEM is, michael gets hit and he gets hit BAD. like someone sliced him up and then a fleeing horse trampled him for good measure. the thing though is while michael's party was forced to flee, the opposing side was also forced to retreat because more of their numbers were taken out than he thought. so michael's essentially bleeding out on the forest floor, adam's been hiding up a tree this entire time because....what the FUCK just happened. and then he sees someone who's very obviously royalty just laying on the grass and decides to go up to him and poke him with a stick because if he's dead then HEY⁠—free stuff he can loot off his body to sell, right? give him a break he could always use the coin.

so, as it turns out, the dude's not dead! fan-fucking-tastic, right?

and adam TRIES to leave him behind. he really does. but then he thinks about how he would've died if the healer hadn't helped him and he thinks about what his mom would do and he bangs his head against a tree a couple times before finally turning around and performing the speediest emergency patch job on this man who might not even make it and all the while he's just like "don't wanna be here. people are gonna accuse me of murdering nobility. i have better things to do that be executed. cmon" and he's not even sure that the royal dude's gonna MAKE IT but he does his best anyway. he's using up supplies for this. royal dude better be fucking grateful.

once it finally seems like royal dude's not gonna die if adam moves him more than two inches, adam (veery slowly) drags him to a nearby cave system that he'd seen when he'd passed through the area before and decides to just look after him from there.

eventually, after adam has been looking after him for a While, royal dude wakes up. and he's Not Happy about it. so, naturally, he and adam get into an argument where he declares he's a prince and how dare adam lay his filthy hands on him yada yada yada and adam's like lol i'm not the one with the major fucking injury but alright. but also he's worried that michael's gonna kill him after he gets better but he doesn't want to leave him to die either and also he put too much work into this pretentious mf to just leave him now SO he might as well risk death.

and michael TRIES to do things independently at first. he REALLY does. he tries to the point where he keeps tearing his stitches and adam starts absolutely raising hell about it because his supplies are already wearing thin enough without angryfuck mcstubbornmeister fucking ruining them every chance he gets. and then he just fucking storms off for literally eight hours and michael's like "FINE. DIDN'T NEED HIM AROUND ANYWAY" but is also worried because he really can't move around all that much and he doesn't WANT to die and just as he's sort of accepting that he's been left adam storms back in with new supplies that he spent the last of his coin on and literally just starts raving about how if michael fucks these up too adam will LITERALLY smother him in his sleep. prince or not. and honestly adam's surprised michael didn't try to forcefully claw his way out of the cave but michael's just surprised that this commoner didn't just leave for good.

they both make an effort to get along a little better after that.

and then they actually get to talking and realize that they have more in common than they thought. which is odd, because they're also so different but they're similar in all the ways that matter and eventually they start trading stories while adam starts helping michael finally move around again and oftentimes the caves would echo with their laughter, so loudly would it reverberate around the stone walls. when michael is finally able to start walking (albeit REALLY stiffly) without assistance, he insists that he's going to go hunt because adam's been doing it for the both of them all this time and he hates just sitting around doing nothing. and when he ends up unable to catch anything because the pain flared up a bit too much, adam doesn't say a word, just flashes him a smile and shoots down a rabbit that they share without a word. and then adam lets him get water from the river instead, and somehow they end up laughing and soaking wet because they started a little splash fight even though adam starts fussing about the wounds afterwards.

but then the day comes; the day that michael can finally move around normally without too much strain, and at first neither of them acknowledge it. at first, they still sit by the riverbank and fish and tell each other whispered stories (whether fact or fiction) by the cooking fire, faces tanned from the heat and sitting a little too close than they'd like to mention. but michael brings it up one day, with hunched shoulders and a weary frown at the reminder, that he has a kingdom to rule. that his father was out of commission, and the longer he stayed hidden away the weaker the kingdom would seem, and adam sighs and concedes.

michael asks, a little hopeful, if adam would come with him. he could be appointed as the court physician, and he wouldn't ever have to worry about money or shelter or supplies ever again. but adam is used to small houses and worn paths and the ache of travel and the hard earth as his bed and his pillow, not downy mattresses and pampering. besides, constantly having to be in the presence of all those snobby nobles would be the absolute death of him, and he knows it.

so he says no, and very nearly changes his answer when michael's form deflates, the prince regent's face pulling into something downright sorrowful, and adam promises to accompany him to the border before they part ways.

they make it to the border, and it isn't even two moments of them awkwardly standing there shuffling their feet before adam thinks to hell with it and pulls the prince regent of one of the largest kingdoms in the land into a hug, except...they don't separate. they don't separate until adam pulls back, just enough to look michael in the eyes, before kissing him. it's soft and light and chaste, something that begins and brings with it the promise of never quite ending, even after they finally break apart, their foreheads gently meeting as they stare at each other.

michael asks if they'll ever meet again. adam doesn't know what to say, because life is tumultuous and messy and he might die before the year is at an end, so he only smiles. he smiles and he kisses michael once on the cheek and tells him that his kingdom is waiting for him, all while thinking (but never voicing) that it is his kingdom that needs him and michael has never been nor ever will be bound by the wants of a nameless travelling healer, and they finally unwind from each other and turn their separate ways, determined to not look back even as their minds scream for them to.

michael heads south, towards his kingdom, and adam heads west, always veering just the smallest bit north but never quite making it back to the town of his roots⁠—what holds him back, he's not sure yet. but there are people in need of help, and he'll be damned if he's going to let them suffer.

and so, it ends.

(until the unwritten sequel, where michael returns to his kingdom⁠—only to find it in utter shambles)

#ask and ye shall receive #this got really long sorry about that #if i ever was to write another multi-chap fic would yall be interested in something like this or would you let it flop #asks #thank you for asking!#midam #michael #adam milligan #story

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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The first time Tyrande is mentioned in the book, and most notable other than the two scenes she actually appears in, is this one:

Tyrande and Malfurion had fled to Nordrassil, and all of his missives went unread. A messenger had returned that morning with his letter to them unopened. The man looked shaken, more so when Anduin told him firmly to leave, return to Nordrassil, and try again.

Which is only confirmation of what we already knew of her by the end of BFA rather than new information, both in that Tyrande does not accept the peace treaty and is not really in agreeable terms with Anduin

Anduin: The armistice is signed. At long last, the Fourth War is over. Tyrande: No. Not while the Black Moon still cries out for vengeance. Not until the Horde has answered for its treachery. Anduin: Further bloodshed will not bring back the fallen. We must renew our hope and forge a future for those who survived. Tyrande: And when the next warchief musters an army, will hope save you if it is Stormwind that burns? Anduin: I know it's difficult to trust, but there are signs of change within the Horde. Anduin: In place of a warchief, there is now a council led by Baine, Thrall, and the others. I believe they can-- Tyrande: Your faith is naive, lion son. I will sign no treaty unless it is written in the Banshee's blood!

and that she’s left for Nordrassil, as she notes she will do in a conversation with Shandris following the above one

Shandris: You spoke harshly to King Anduin, Tyrande. The kaldorei can ill afford to shun the Alliance. They have provided aid and comfort to us in these dark times. Tyrande: The young king is foolish to trust our enemies. Harsh words should be the least of his fears. Shandris: The Banshee Queen no longer leads the Horde. Those who do seem more inclined toward peace than war. Tyrande: If the wolf is rabid, it matters not who rides it. Sooner or later, the beast will bare its fangs. Shandris: You are dearest to my heart, Tyrande. I beg you, let go of the Black Moon's rage and embrace the mother's light once again. I could not bear to lose you to darkness. Tyrande: Know this. My hunger for vengeance will not be sated so long as Sylvanas Windrunner remains free--and until I know why Elune abandoned her children. Shandris: Tyrande! Do not say such-- Tyrande: I will tarry no longer in this city of men. Let us leave for the boughs of Nordrassil. Tyrande: From there we will dispatch the Sentinels to every corner of Azeroth. Let no one rest until the Banshee is found!

What happens with Anduin by the beginning of Shadows Rising, then, feels only like a natural continuity from that, in that he’s trying to reach out but she’s uninterested and won’t hear of it. In my opinion, that’s not only coherent, but also justified; she feels like the Alliance has failed her people, repeatedly -- both in denying them help in Darkshore, and now in agreeing to peace before giving them justice -- all the while uniting their forces to aid the Horde solve their problems with the Warchief.

We don’t hear from her again until Thrall is discussing a visit to Nordrassil, in order to investigate the unrest the shaman are feeling with the spirits. Yukha, who’s been negotiating the meeting, tells him she agrees on the condition Thrall “must bring what is owed” and that he would know what she means. He doesn’t. Not entirely. He knows Tyrande and Malfurion will want retribution for Teldrassil, but he doesn’t know what he can give them, but he goes anyway, choosing to bring Baine and Calia with him. And then, when he actually goes, we finally see Tyrande. (And I liked a part of this one so much ! For the most part I liked it initially -- except for the very ending).

Tyrande is there, sitting with Malfurion, Maiev and Shandris behind them. While Malfurion stands upon the Horde’s arrival, Tyrande does not. Thrall and company bow and he begins to speak of what brought them there, and he’s rather unsettled by the cold reception and lack of response, noting that Tyrande locked eyes with him and did not look away, and that as he spoke, none of them did even blink. He starts to feel impatient and insulted (lol thrall) and tries to hold back from answering poorly.

He looked into Tyrande’s eyes once more, into the hypnotizing aura of darkness in the never-cool embers of her eyes. That moment in Nagrand returned to him, when he tasted smoke and sensed a far-off pain. That pain was not so far off for her, it was constant and as potent as the day Teldrassil burned.

I like this quote in particular a lot, in spite of it apparently being a tiny thing. It brings to light how although those close and far may have felt sorrow and pain when the World Tree burned, Tyrande carries it with her the entire time. Others may be moving on, concerned with other matters, but she isn’t, and how could she? It may have been a day or three hundred, it is still recent to her, still fresh, constantly fresh, not something she can set aside, not something she can let go of, and not something she would let go of, given the choice --- it is what she owes those who burned, and it is what she owes those who lived. I like this bit, and the initial part with Baine, Calia and Thrall arriving, because to me it did a good job of showing that. To everyone, it’s a great tragedy, it’s horrible, but they’ve moved on. Calia and Baine arrive there taken by the natural beauty surrounding the World Tree, and are initially quite insensitive to the aura of mourning still surrounding the Night Elves. To them that pain is still real. It isn’t something they can just let go of, specially when they have yet to get any justice that may give them some closure.

“I brought what you wanted, what is owed,” Thrall said, and at last he saw a spark of life in her eyes. “I bring you the sincere apology of the Horde. We are not a single voice now spoken through the mouth of a warchief, but a whole host of voices. We have formed a council, so that never again will one take power and abuse it as Sylvanas did. As…as Sylvanas used that power to slaughter your people.”

Then Thrall says he brought her what was owed, and Tyrande demonstrates some interest, but what he brings is apologies and excuses and a bunch of “we’re trying to do better” stuff that isn’t what the Night Elves deserve after what they suffered. He speaks of Baine opposing Sylvanas, of Calia and Lilian trying to do better by the Forsaken, but throughout it all, Tyrande is unmoved.

Was he speaking to a wall? Would nothing move Tyrande? Even Malfurion gave him the smallest nod of understanding, perhaps only indicating that he was listening.

Although Malfurion’s willingness to in the least hear shows (and side note: I do appreciate how in this moment and later on Malfurion is portrayed as, while no less imposing, considerably gentler, because that’s what I’m here for), it is Shandris who then removes her helmet and speaks to Thrall and tells him it’s hard not to be distrusting of promises when even allies have failed to come through with them. Maiev, then, is her counterpoint, proceeding to tell her to listen at her peril, because she’ll end with daggers on her back.

Although Tyrande doesn’t speak, Maiev is clearly more of her voice, here. It is when she says that that Tyrande shows some reaction again, an almost smile that suggests she’s in great agreement with Maiev’s distrust, with the voiced believe no matter what the Horde will end up betraying them again, hurting them again.

Maiev makes some very valid points, after that. That Sylvanas did not, in fact, act alone; that she acted for the Horde and spoke for them, that they are trying to disperse the blame and “hiding behind cowardly revisions of a history that will not be forgotten". This will be important later on, in comparison to Tyrande’s own stance on the matter.

The Horde gives the “mUsT iNnOcEnTs DiE fOr It To Be JuStIcE tO yOu” excuses a bit, although Thrall acknowledges Saurfang did indeed take part in planning the attack, if not burning the World Tree, but he is now dead by Sylvanas’ own hand and there’s nothing they can do in that regard. I like that it is at very least acknowledged, though, after we spent so long ignoring he had anything to do with it and blaming everything on Sylvanas aksjndfkajsndfkj

Shandris continues to be the most moderate voice from the Kaldorei side, suggesting they do not absolve the Horde for their crimes, but make a temporary understanding as to deal with the more urgent matters. Maiev continues to argue against her. Then we have this:

Tyrande, it seemed, still did not care to speak.

The elf began plucking her lute again, but Tyrande slammed her hand down on the owl-shaped arm of the bench, demanding a return to silence. Had the moon grown bigger in the sky? Was it somehow closer? Threatening?

“It was not yet time.” Malfurion’s grave baritone filled the clearing. He leaned down toward his wife, placing a furred, clawed hand on her shoulder. “This was folly. Let them go.”

Tyrande uncrossed her legs and sat back on the bench, shaking off her husband’s hand with a tight grimace.

Here we have what I mentioned before, of Malfurion being portrayed as gentler of the two. When he notices her reaction, he tries to appease her even before Tyrande has indeed said anything, intervening on behalf of letting the Horde people go, but she’s clearly displeased by then, and very much unwilling to listen even to him, as her reaction shows. And then we have the very best part:

And then, all at once, she cared very much to speak.

“When you have washed the bodies of a thousand kaldorei burned and broken, when you have fallen to your knees and kissed the feet of a thousand mourning souls, when you look into their eyes and tell them ‘our Horde has changed’ and they believe you, only then will I accept your apology and treat you as my equal.” Tyrande’s voice, edged as steel, pulled the air out of the clearing. “My brethren here may be willing to entertain your empty pledges of justice and aid, but I know better. I have learned better.”

Then she stood, and Thrall worried that the moon might truly fall from the heavens and crush them at Tyrande’s command. Her eyes, though black, somehow glowed, Elune’s fury blazing colder and brighter along her skin with each word. The glade itself grew gray and almost dead, as if by her will she had sapped the life out of everything around them, withering the trees and obliterating the flowers and grass to dust.

“How many orphans did your Horde create that day?” Tyrande sliced the flat of her hand diagonally across her body. “Those children will grow, they will wake each morning tasting ash, and one day they will come for you. Oh, they will come for you, and they will make you taste that same ash, and then you will know their justice.” She sat down again, as if winded. Light returned to the clearing, and the plants around them were green and vibrant once more.

“Quickly,” Yukha muttered, trying to gather them. “We must go. This was a mistake; I should not have brought you here.”

Baine and Calia allowed Yukha to corral them back toward the path of glittering solid water. Thrall remained, only taking slow, careful steps, never showing Tyrande his back. For his trouble, Tyrande directed her final words to him and only him.

“You will find that justice less sweet than the sorry excuse for punishment you faced, and when this justice comes, there will be no armistice to save you.”

Again, I love how it’s done because of how clearly it portrays that there is no healing for the Kaldorei as is, but I like Tyrande’s words most of all because of how they clearly say “You don’t get to decide what is enough justice. The victims are the only ones who can decide what is enough for them.” Apologies mean nothing to her, because she has no reason to believe they will hold true, and because even if they do, is it enough for those who suffered? Is it enough for those who survived, damaged and broken, their loved ones gone? Is it enough for those who burned? It may all be very honorable and just in theory, but what about practice? What did the Horde’s honor do to stop Sylvanas’ decision to burn the World Tree? If her own allies failed to heed her request for aid, why should Tyrande believe the promises of those who stood on Sylvanas’ side, and turned only when her actions begun to harm the Horde itself?

But even then, Tyrande’s mindset and her words are never about herself. It isn’t about her. Of course she mourns, and of course it wounded her; she is the leader of the Night Elves, and she failed to protect them. It is them, her people, her charges, they who matter --- those she failed, be it because they are dead or be it the survivors left with an everlasting mark and everlasting absences.

And because of them, because she cannot fail them like that again, because she’s so hellbent on doing right by them now, apologies just won’t do it.

I love how the atmosphere surrounding them reflects Tyrande’s feelings, the moon closer and fiercer, her tone so sharp as to take the air from the clearing, her fury so searing as to appear to suck all life from a place previously praised by its nature and vitality.

What she speaks next still carries very much the intent behind her former words. How can she accept apologies? Will apologies soothe those children who lived through it but lost so much and will have to live their entire lives with the memory of an unspeakable horror such as that? It won’t leave them. Apologies aren’t enough that they won’t remember the torment of hot flames, the taste of the ashes in their mouths. Apologies do not give them justice; but they’ll never stop wanting for it, needing it, to be able to, indeed, move on and perhaps heal. Until justice is done, however, that can’t be done. They can’t heal without it. There’s no moving on without it. And apologies are not justice. Promises of change are not justice.

She’s not making a threat. In a way, it is a promise, but not a threat. She’s not vowing to kill them all; she’s promising that they can pretend it’s all well and fine and they’ve done enough, but they haven’t and eventually that will catch up to them.

And it will, Tyrande has no doubt of that. A council instead of a Warchief may prevent the same of happening again, but it doesn’t change what was done, it doesn’t erase it, it isn’t paying for what was done and doesn’t give them compensation in any way. Calia and Lilian leading the Forsaken in a different way may mean a different future for the Forsaken, but it doesn’t help the Kaldorei’s future, it doesn’t help them heal, it isn’t paying for what was done, it doesn’t give them compensation in any way. Baine trying to oppose Sylvanas well after Teldrassil burned may have been a step on the right direction, but it doesn’t change that when Sylvanas gave the order, that the Horde burned the World Tree, that they stood by her even after, that they only changed sides later on; it isn’t paying for what was done and it doesn’t give them compensation in any way. The Horde thinks it did enough, punishing the loyalists and setting up the means to prevent it from happening again, but to the victims at Teldrassil, how can that be justice? The Horde deciding the punishment their own should face, the victims having no voice, the victims receiving no compensation in any way, nothing that would give them closure? Of course it won’t be enough. Of course there won’t be closure. And of course they’ll eventually try to take it themselves, armistice or no.

Lastly, we have the scene closing with this exchange, that follows Thrall’s realization he was (an idiot) wrong to think apologies would be enough:

“I will bring what is owed, then. I will not bring words or promises, I will bring you the head of Sylvanas Windrunner.”

The faintest trace of a smile appeared on Tyrande Whisperwind’s face. “Do it, then, or never seek to speak with me again.”

I don’t like it, because Thrall isn’t the one who has to kill Sylvanas. And here, I think it’s off that Tyrande would agree to these terms when it’s clear all throughout the previous part that it is important to her that the victims acknowledge it as justice, or it won’t truly be justice, and that the Horde doing it themselves isn’t it. Still, I don’t think her being agreeable is what’s wrong; I think it’s very much in accord to her stance throughout it, that she’d be agreeable to a promise she actually, truly acknowledges as possible justice for her people. If Thrall had promised her Sylvanas would face the Kaldorei’s justice, that he wouldn’t return empty handed not because he’d bring her head, but because he’d give the Kaldorei the opportunity to take it, then I think it’d be more coherent that Tyrande agrees to it.

And imo, if he really does it, meh. He shouldn’t be the one to do it, if Sylvanas does die. Nevertheless, my disagreement on that aside, Tyrande’s agreement is important: it shows she’s not unreasonable. She’s not refusing all compromise, refusing all chance to talk, vowing not to rest until every single Horde member is dead. She’s angry, and rightfully so; she’s terrifying, but she never threatened the Horde group there. She’s resentful and distrusting, and she does want blood, but she’s not after innocents, and she’s not even after those who could be implied alongside Sylvanas. Maiev earlier argued that Sylvanas didn’t act alone, and while I think she’s right, and while I think Tyrande thinks she’s right, Tyrande never voices that. Her desire for justice focuses on those who are to blame and unrepentant; spoken or not, this denotes she acknowledges the Horde’s attempt to change, in spite of her disbelief, and instead of focusing on the entire Horde as being guilty, she seeks justice to be taken from those who were direct cause, and who have taken no steps to make amends.

And I think that speaks a lot of her not being oblivious to Shandris’ point, that they need to not lose themselves, and that they need to heal. Tyrande is relentless in her pursuit for justice, and unwilling to let go of it, because that’s what the Kaldorei need. But her agreement that Sylvanas paying for it should be enough for her to be willing to talk to Thrall denotes that she knows they can’t pursue vengeance forever, that blood isn’t always the answer, that they need justice to heal but once it’s done they need to, indeed, try to move on and heal. (And I’m not talking about forgiving here, but merely turning away from bloodshed to focus on mending their own wounds).

Tyrande appears again in one more scene, by the end of the book, after the battle is done, and the Horde captures Sira, who Thrall then sends to Tyrande. It’s funny that here, he does pretty much what I said I think he should have promised in regards to Sylvanas: he captured her, yes, but he didn’t impose the Horde’s justice, and instead gave her to Tyrande so Tyrande did with her what she thought was suitable.

But yeah, she gets to Stormwind with Maiev and Shandris, who “had insisted on coming along, perhaps sensing that Tyrande should not be left alone" which I think it’s pretty understandable since they didn’t know what the ‘gift from the Horde’ was, and what reaction it may cause, specially when in spite of not being unreasonable before, there is something of volatile in her now, perhaps due to how the power she has received impacts so heavily Tyrande but also her surroundings.

They get there, see Sira, Tyrande recalls Thrall’s letter saying it isn’t yet what was owed but he hopes it’s a start, Sira rages and says Tyrande is a coward who does nothing even with the Night Warrior’s rage and power.

“I wish I could have done more to protect you,” Tyrande said, cold. “But some natures prove too evil to curb. Too ambitious to abide. Sylvanas has such a nature, and I will not forget that. You are her servant now, Sira, I have not forgotten that, either.”

This is a very important point because everyone else does not, apparently, care that Sira chose to serve Sylvanas.

Before I move on to that, it’s nice to notice that Tyrande shows no guilt in regards to Sira’s fate, which, in my opinion, is entirely understandable because of the before mentioned reason. She’s failed Sira, yes, and she wishes she could have protected her, yes, but Sira chose to side with the one who caused them all of that in the first place. She knew the horrors Sylvanas had already done, and she still followed. She knew her crimes were unforgivable, and she worked to further her plans. And because of that, Tyrande has no pity left for her, even though she was one of them before, even though she regrets her inability to have aided her in time.

But Maiev and Shandris disagree and have plenty of pity left for Sira, and both make a plea for Tyrande’s compassion, Maiev citing an occasion when she had witnessed it before, accompanied by her stubbornness to give up on something she believed could still be saved. Tyrande replies she failed.

“How long did you try?” Maiev asked. “And would you try again? If you continue down this path, Tyrande, you will find yourself no better than Sira. She is in pain, can you not see it? She is in agony. The only relief comes from spilling blood. Is this what you want? To find your only comfort in the suffering of others?”

“And so I should do nothing?” Tyrande seethed.

“That is not what I suggest and you know it. Listen, Tyrande.” Maiev went to stand beside Sira, a warden she had considered more than a friend. A sister. “I have lived as one consumed, and though there is no great love between us, Tyrande, I would not see you become what I was. What Sira is now. You are more than just rage and vengeance, you are more than simply the Night Warrior: you are a priestess and a leader. Can you not, as a priestess, take pity on this creature?”

I think Maiev throughout that scene sounds off, in that not only there’s this gentleness I have no idea where came from but just overall she definitely doesn’t sound like Maiev and her dynamics with Tyrande are also??? but other than Maiev, I have several issues with how this is played. The plea for compassion becomes a comparison between Tyrande and Sira, as if it was somehow comparable that this is the path she’s in, when the previous scene the book showed us, the meeting with Thrall, does not speak of it at all. Like I said, then she’s not portrayed as unreasonable, she’s portrayed as relentless in her pursuit of justice, disillusioned with promises, unwilling to forget, filled with righteous anger, but never unreasonable and lost to a dark path of blood and vengeance. Here, somehow, Maiev and Shandris argue that she is, because of her initial choice to end Sira --- ignoring that Sira, although a fallen comrade, became a willing follower of the one who initially caused them so much misery, the one they wish to bring justice to, the one who caused Sira to be what she became. Sira shows no remorse at all throughout the book, and is, in fact, considerably vicious and bloodthirsty, delighting in cruelty for the sake of it, only wishing for the death toll to be as high as possible (much more so than, for example, Nathanos, who should wish for it if only for how it strengthens Sylvanas, but never goes out of his way for the sake of killing or cruelty).

She doesn’t kill Sira, but she gives her a cut, and we have this:

She was the Night Warrior, revenge made flesh, but now with that one shallow cut, she felt suddenly, horribly alive again.

Which is???????? I don’t even know, given that the book itself shows Tyrande is clearly feeling, and not simply anger. How isn’t she, when you have Thrall himself notice her pain for Teldrassil never left, that is is as fresh as when the World Tree burned?

I think the pleading her for mercy, specially coming from Shandris, could be valid. I think Shandris showing concern that Tyrande is losing the softer side of her would be very valid, if it was coherent with what we saw of Tyrande so far speaking of it also. Speaking to her, asking her to look at things as a priestess, to remember how compassionate she was, would all be very valid; I just think this wasn’t the situation to do it, not how it was done, and not with the previous scene. Towards someone different, I may agree, but Sira has plenty of crimes of her own, beyond the fate she didn’t chose, and to say Tyrande’s decision here accounts for her loss of compassion doesn’t seem fitting at all, specially when the other scene has her willing to talk to a representative of the Horde and accept his offer of justice (no matter how much I disagree with that).

In spite of it, she shows herself very much capable of mercy still, and doesn’t strike Sira down. Again, her attitude is not that of one lost to a dark path of vengeance; she heeds those that are with her and ask her to be compassionate, even if her first impulse is not to be. She allows Shandris to take away her weapon, and ultimately turns away from the prisoner.

And given there is reason for her to feel about Sira as she does, I don’t know to which point her reaction can be blamed on her being the Night Warrior. Maiev remembers her compassion, in that scene, but forgets her ruthlessness; Tyrande has never hesitated to shed blood, specially in defense of her people or commitment to the course of action she believes right.

#* general: headcanons / WHO TELLS YOUR STORY?#* character study: tyrande whisperwind / MOON SOAKED AND DAWN FLAVORED.#* muse: tyrande whisperwind / MOONLIGHTED.#sr spoilers #long post cw #I think everything I wanted to say is here? both in regards to how I feel about it and how I understand Tyrande in those scenes?#I think?#kajfdjndskf #I threw this on docs to see how long it is #it was like 9 pages with times new roman 12 kjasndkjnasdkfn #I don't like maiev in the second scene :c

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kitten1618x · 4 years

Note

Annnd Psych for the fandom ask meme!

Shannon makin’ me feel all important tonight and shit. ☺️ AND LOOK — I don’t know how, but I managed to hit the back button and destroy all the long and thoughtful answers I originally had, so please accept the condensed version (cos’ did ya really want my word vomit anyway? lol).

My Favorite Female Character is/was Jules. ♥️ Aside from the fact that she was obv the main LI for Shawn and they played us with the ‘will they? won’t they?’ trope for a billion seasons — I seriously do have a female archetype, don’t I? And lbr, there wasn’t exactly a ton of female cast members on Psych, but the ones we got were certainly well fleshed-out and all amazing. Some honorable mentions have got to be Phylicia Rashad and Cybill Shepherd as Shawn and Gus’ moms, Ally Sheedy as Yang, and Jane Lynch (step on me) as Chief Karen’s Coast Gaurd sister with a heavy dose of sibling rivalry (bonus points that she and Lassiter were hot on one another). goD this show 😂😂🥰🥰

My Favorite Male Character is Henry Spencer. I know that’s weird, and obv I love my two delightful idiots, Shawn and Gus, and Lassiter too — but Shawn’s dad is the real MVP ... he’s ride or die and I’ve always adored that about him. ❤️

My Favorite Season is ALL OF THEM. literally impossible to answer this. There was never not a funny episode of this show. It started out brilliantly hilarious and it ended that way as well.

My Favorite Episode is — !!!! I could no sooner pick a favorite between my children!! (Well, I could — but I won’t). ahskkdjdkldklhsksk okay, okay, I cannot pick a favorite ep, but I can pick a favorite scene and that’s from Season 7’s Office Space — seriously Dule should have won a million emmys for this scene, he was brilliant!!!

youtube

My Favorite Cast Member is probably Dule Hill. I’d personally just love to spend a day with Dule and James.

My Favorite Ship is/was Shawn and Gus non-romantic. They aremy ultimate brotp. I wasn’t hugely into shipping back when I watched Psych, but I was always rooting for Juliet and Shawn. I really loved Lassiter and Marlowe’s dynamic, too.

A Character I’d Die Defending is Gus ofc. Seriously, who wouldn’t????

A Character I Just Can’t Sympathize With if I really had to pick one I guess it would probably have been Shawn’s mom. I mean, she was very selfish to leave her son and husband — although they never really touched too much on the why, so I’ll reserve my judgement.

A Character I Grew To Love is Woody the Coronor. I thought he was such a weirdo at first, but grew to love him as the seasons went on. Bet you thought I was gonna say Lassiter, but I loved that asshole from the start! ahskdkdkkrlldjdk

My Anti OTP was probably Declan and Juliet. I mean, Declan was hot and all, but it was obv that relationship wasn’t going anywhere and was just a foil to Shawn and Jules.

And that’s the that on that. And remember this was the condensed version.... 👀 Thanks for making me feel important, Gus!!! 😘😘😘

#tumblr games #asks #psych usa rants #but happy ones #mygutsforgarters #gus tag #cuz yep... she deserves one!

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scaredofthebasement-blog · 5 years

Text

When Love Walks In - Chpt 8

Reblog to get this great love story out there. It’s just lifting off...Enjoy the ride!

Chpt 8 - Auston Gets Dr Quinn Alone

2869 Words

“Hey Auston, what’s going on?” Dr Quinn approaches his bed and sits beside him in the chair.

He just sits, staring off, thinking of what he can say.

“You can talk to me about anything, Auston. I will try to help you if you tell me your concerns.”

He grabs his whiteboard and writes, “I want this all to be over, to get out of here and back to my life the way I knew it.”

“Yes. I get that Auston. Honestly, I understand. But it should only be a couple more days till you will be able to breathe on your own if you continue with your ‘Rock Star’ ways.” She smirks at him and tilts her head to get him to look at her. She draws a smile and blush out of him. He feels like he’s back in high school again with a school boy crush.

Dr Quinn continues, “Then we will be able to get you out of Intensive Care, get you out of the hospital and start focusing on your voice and your physical fitness. Your breathing capacity will have to wait till you have completely healed and you’ve had an opportunity to get your conditioning back. So yes, as I’m sure you’re figuring out, this is going to be a game of patience. But I’m sure you’ve had to exercise patience in getting yourself into the NHL. I’m sure you can remember doing that?”

Auston nods yes.

“Did it work out in the end?” She asks, knowing the answer.

“Till a puck smashed my throat”, he writes with a sarcastic smirk.

“Ha! Yes. Sadly, that’s true. But I bet you went through the long game of huge challenges and struggles that you had to rise above to get to the point…,” she pauses looking for the right words. “…Where you got to take that puck to your throat”, Dr Quinn grins as she teases the last part, looking for a reaction.

Auston can’t help but chuckle and smile at what she just said. She gets me. She’s cool, he thinks.

“From what I have heard, it looks like you handled all of that preparation for the NHL really well.”

Curious, Auston needs to know, so he writes, “What did you hear?”

“Just that you made it to the NHL, against some pretty big odds, coming from the sunbelt, I understand”, Dr Quinn answers.

Oh, so that’s all she knows, he thinks.

“Do you like the Leafs? Do you watch games?” He writes, trying to find out what she might know about him.

“To be completely honest, Auston I have not been following the Leafs. I’ve been preoccupied with my career for many years. But I do know they’re a hockey team AND I have nothing against them if that’s what you’re getting at”, she jokes.

Auston picks up his marker and writes “LOL!” and smiles at Dr Quinn’s joke.

Dr Quinn laughs.

Auston writes, “Oh, so glad you have nothing against us. LMAO! I can gift you tickets to a game when I get back playing? It’s the least I could do.”

“That sounds like something I wouldn’t hate.” Dr Quinn smiles.

“Oh, wow! You sound so into it. You do know that people actually pay big bucks to go to Leafs’ games, right?” He shows her his board, shaking his head and smiling.

“Yes, of course. I would like to watch you play sometime, Auston. I’ve heard good things”, Dr Quinn attempts to reassure him.

He can’t help himself. He shakes his head, grinning and writes, “Good things! Ha! OMG! You’re so funny! So you didn’t know who I was when you were operating on me?”

Dr Quinn is starting to think this guy is a bit full of himself. She makes a note to herself that she should have a look into what he is all about. She knows he is in the news, that there are tons of people concerned about him and there is a shrine outside the hospital, but she also knows that hockey and all professional sports are a huge deal in Toronto, so any good player would get that kind of attention.

I should Google him when I get a chance, she thinks.

Dr Quinn tells him, “No. The attending staff that night just informed me that you were an NHL hockey player injured in a playoff game. Then after surgery, they told me your name, but I had only heard it in the context that the Leafs were lucky to get you.”

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” He writes.

“Ha! Auston! You are pretty bold, aren’t you?” She laughs nervously.

“Sorry. You don’t have to answer. I was just curious. Besides you already know a lot about me”, He writes back.

“No, to be honest, I don’t know much about you, other than medically speaking. I’m telling you the truth when I say I’ve been living under a rock of medical studies for years. I was actually just thinking that, by the sound of things, I should probably look into this ‘Auston Matthews’ guy. You’ve got me curious, thinking I must be in the presence of a pretty amazing star”, she says half teasing.

Auston is embarrassed. He writes on his board, “Oh man, I feel like an asshole for coming across as cocky.” He then wipes his board. “Sorry, I’m not used to people not knowing who I am, in hockey-obsessed Toronto, I mean”, He writes and wipes again. “I am actually just a 27-year-old guy, raised in Arizona, blessed with a supportive family, great coaches, athleticism, fast reflexes and good hand-eye coordination. I applied myself and have been very lucky.”

He is running out of room on the whiteboard, so he shows her and cleans the board. He continues, “I’ve achieved pretty good success and play for a big deal team that makes a big deal out of me.”

He cleans the board again and adds, “But I’ve never won a Cup, can’t breathe on my own, can’t talk, and never saved a life. So look no further than yourself, cause you’re the star in this room.” He erases again and ends with, “Oh, and you’re gonna have to get me a bigger whiteboard.” He gives a cheeky smile as he holds up the board.

Dr Quinn laughs. “Ha! Very funny! Oh, Auston, I could get you a bigger whiteboard, but I plan on getting you talking as soon as possible. Seriously though, thank you for sharing with me a bit about you. I’m glad to know you better.” She doesn’t know what else to say but definitely feels that he has just endeared himself to her.

“So I understand you’ve become a very successful doctor in a short period?” Auston enquires.

“One might say that”, she answers shyly.

“You must be proud of yourself”, He adds.

“Well, I’m happy that I was able to get where I am, sooner than later, so that I can do what I have dreamed of doing which is to make a difference for people in medical crisis like yourself”, she answers.

“My parents told me about your rise, and it sounds like I am fortunate to have you as my doctor. Thank you, for all the hard work you put in so that you can be here today to help me”, Auston writes.

“Oh, Auston, thank you for that! I’m really happy that I can be here to help you. You could say for me, helping you was like getting into the playoffs. But getting your voice back; that will be my Stanley Cup.”

“Look at you using sport’s analogies, Dr Q!” He writes, smiling and opens his mouth to emphasize shock.

“Yeah, I kinda surprised myself there.” She responds, laughing.

“They told me what happened to your boyfriend and said that inspired you to do what you are doing now. That’s a pretty amazing story”, Auston writes.

“I suppose so. I needed to make something good come out of a tragic situation. I’m assuming that there was something that started you on your path to becoming an NHL player”, Dr Quinn queries.

Auston writes, “Yeah, I fell in love with the speed and skill of the game. I bonded over hockey with my dad and my uncle, Billy. My uncle died when I was about four. My dad was pretty torn up since they were very close. It was hard to see him like that. I suppose I wanted to make my Dad happy again by doing well in something and honour my uncle. I’m also highly competitive, which I attribute to me being a middle child. Always fighting for the attention, I guess. I’ve no idea why I just told you that.” Auston looks up at Dr Quinn, to gauge her reaction. He’s almost expecting her to leave the room, turned off by this guy who is not as cool as he is trying to appear. He’s disappointed in himself, slipping up and letting her see behind the curtain. He’s embarrassed.

Sensing his regret over his disclosure, Dr Quinn tries to reassure him. “Well, that was refreshingly insightful and honest, Auston. I’m actually flattered that you would share that with me. Please don’t regret telling me that. I’m actually impressed that you can see yourself for who you are and that you trust me, to tell me such things. From what I have observed in life, everyone has the fundamental need to be heard, seen and valued. Some just go about it more boldly than others.”

“Thank you.” Auston writes as he smirks shyly. His heart is overflowing with affection for this woman who stands before him.

“I’m sorry about your Uncle Billy, Auston. How did he die?” She asks.

“CF”, He writes.

“Ah, a breathing disease. Interesting. Well, you are going to honour your Uncle and make your father, mother, sisters and fans, very proud when you get yourself breathing on your own again. There may also be a chance to make you and I the proudest that we have ever been.”

“How’s that?” He writes, confused.

“Restoring your voice. Like I told you, the small trials have been successful, but you could be the first big success. I believe in you, and I believe in me. I will be your guide every step of the way. We’ll be a team. You just need to do what I tell you. In fact, I’ll make you a promise. I will go to one of your hockey games when you make it back to playing hockey again. How’s that sound?”

Auston feels a peace wash through his body as she speaks. He knows he can trust her. He believes he can count on her. It is like he has known her forever. He wants her to stay with him. He feels secure and safe with her near.

“So do we have a deal that you and I will fix you and then I’ll go to one of your games?”

“Yeah, but I have one thing to add”, He writes.

“And what’s that?” She asks.

“You’ll wear my Jersey to the game”, he writes before he thinks it through.

Where the hell has my filter gone, and why do I keep telling her things that make me look pathetic or like a school boy with a crush? He immediately asks himself as his stomach drops.

Suddenly, her stomach gets butterflies, and a red flag goes up. For some reason, Auston’s request feels intimate.

“Then what will YOU wear?” She responds quickly with a joke, to lighten the unease.

Embarrassed, Auston smiles and rolls his eyes and is glad for the comic relief as a distraction. He still wants to crawl under the bed but can only hope she isn’t creeped out.

Curiosity gets the best of Dr Quinn, and she can’t help but ask, “Seriously, though, why is that Auston?”

He thinks fast and writes, “Because you said we’re a team, so we have to wear the same jersey, right?”

She is relieved. That makes sense to her. “Oh for sure Auston. Deal!” She says as she reaches out her hand to move past this uneasy conversation. As they shake hands, they both feel an electric charge but pretended not to notice.

Great save! Auston thinks to himself.

Dr Quinn wants to escape the confusing thoughts she is having about Auston. She instantly numbs herself to feeling the tingle she got when they touched. She reveals nothing in her reaction or words. Her job depends on it.

“Well, I need to get going, Auston. But I hope this talk helped.”

He nods and smiles but secretly wants more time with her.

“You going home?” He writes, hoping to solicit more information about her nonchalantly.

“Yeah, after I finish some paperwork”, She answers with a grin.

“Got any plans tonight?” Auston continues his mission for information.

“Just Pilates. In fact, I recall, that’s what I had just finished when I got the Page to come help out a certain STAR hockey player who had an accident”, She teases.

“Ha! Oh. Sorry about that”, He writes.

“Yeah, I might forgive you”, She jokes with a wink.

Auston makes a realisation and writes, “Hey! So that night you weren’t even watching a Toronto, Game 7, Stanley Cup game?! R you sure you’re from Toronto? Pilates? Wow! Just Wow!” Auston shakes his head, teasing Dr Quinn.

Dr Quinn laughs and in a matter-of-fact voice pleads her case, “Hey! I told you. I’ve been buried under a rock of medical studies, research, surgeries and being a doctor. What can I say? I have no life. But wait! I seem to recall that as I arrived home from my class that particular night, I was going to put on the TV to check the score of your said ‘game seven’ when someone interrupted me from my ‘hockey game watching.’ Apparently, that SOMEONE needed me to do a little operation.” Dr Quinn smirks confidently.

“Oh, so you ARE Canadian, after all! I was really starting to wonder.” He writes, teasing her.

“But seriously? The tail end of a game 7 was the best you could do?! You’re barely hanging on to your citizenship Doctor”, Auston adds in jest.

“Looks like someone needs to pull you out from under that rock, Dr Quinn.” Auston writes teasing her again.

“Yeah, I’m starting to realise that”, She replies.

“So, what are you doing after Pilates? Not to be nosey. Just trying to live vicariously through you since I’ll be laying here in a hospital bed while you’re out there free”, Auston fibs.

“Sorry to disappoint, but not much, I’m afraid. I will probably just get something to eat, return some texts, read or watch tv.”

“Do you have kids?” He writes, hoping his questions will just come off as light conversation.

“Nope. No kids. No husband.” She answers.

Auston is thrilled but doesn’t let on.

“A boyfriend?” He dares to ask.

“Nope. No boyfriend.” She responds with a nervous laugh. She again feels slightly uncomfortable but convinces herself he’s just asking cause he’s bored.

She surprises herself when she questions Auston back, “And you?” She hopes he just takes it as an innocent back and forth.

“Nope, neither, either and no kids.” He writes.

They both smile nervously, hoping that their happiness over such revelations isn’t detected by the other.

“Well you have fun laying here in bed, and I’ll have fun doing pilates, eating and not having a life.” She tells him.

Auston thinks she is so cute. He writes on his board, “Ha! Okay, it sounds like we’re both living our best life!”

“We sure are! I’ll see you tomorrow, Auston and we’ll get you breathing again soon. Oh, that is if you still need me for the breathing exercises. Probably not, right? You’re good with Dr Wright now, right?” She has to laugh at all the “rights” she used there. She is giddy and nervous and doesn’t want to acknowledge to herself why.

He writes, “Wrong! No. I need you still. Pls. We’re a team. Remember?”

“You’re right, Auston! We are a team.” She tells him shocked by the feeling of warmth running through her body.

Auston smiles huge. He thinks she is adorable.

Needing to escape, Dr Quinn announces, “Anyways; I’ll be back here at 10 am. Sleep well, Auston. Oh, and I’ll send your parents back in. Okay?”

“Yes, I’m going to ask them to go home for the evening and get some sleep. I need some time alone, and they do as well.” He writes to her.

Ignoring every warning going off in her brain, she swallows, “I see. Sounds good, Auston. Can I see your board for a minute?”

Auston hands her his whiteboard and marker, looking at her, curious as to why she needs it.

She writes something on it quickly, flips it over, hands it back to him and blushing, walks away, saying, “Okay Auston. Sweet dreams. I’ll send them in.”

Auston watches Dr Quinn leave the room and quickly turns the board over, excited to read what she has written.

“29” is all it reads.

#auston matthews #auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagine #fanfiction #imagine #nhl fanfiction #leafs #toronto maple leafs #love story

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kmseokjins · 5 years

Text

Waste It On Me (Chapter 8)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: BTS x Reader / Future OT7 x Reader Warnings: n/a in this chapter Genre: fluff as usual lol Summary: [Name], Jimin, and Jungkook get caught up in traffic, plus a mini pit stop to get milk.

Notes: Idk what I’m doing; this is just a fun little fluffy chapter tbh

Archive Of Our Own || Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

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

You should have walked. It had been smooth sailing until just a few minutes ago when traffic came to a sudden halt. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but once you realized you had been sitting there for five minutes without moving, you were leaning forwards to look out the front windshield.

“Must be an accident,” Your Uber driver mutters when he notices you’ve gotten curious in the backseat. “Might be a while.” You frown and sigh, settling back in your seat at his words.

Your phone pings with a notification in your pocket, and you reach back to tug your phone free.

Tae: Where are you?

You: Stuck in traffic :/ Troublemakers make it back?

Sunshine: No, they’re stuck in traffic too

JK: You’re stuck too? Where are you?

You: Jungkook, if you leave that Uber…

Yoongi: Don’t threaten him, he’ll take it as a challenge

Jiminie: He’s bigger than me and so strong :o

“For the love of-,” You were going to murder both of them. “Thank you, I really need to go,” You apologized to the Uber driver, who watched you with wide eyes as you scramble out of the Uber and onto the street. How the hell were you supposed to find the two of them in this mess? How had it suddenly went from a fun night to babysitting Jungkook and Jimin?

Cursing under your breath, you start forwards, attempting to call Jimin’s phone while also trying to spot the two among the traffic and lights. You stop when Jimin answers your call, “Jiminie, where are you two?”

“I’ve got him, [Name]-ah,” Jimin pants into the phone a few seconds later, “He can’t go anywhere without me.”

You were literally going to pull your hair out. Adjusting your bag, you continued through the stalled traffic, desperately trying to find the two idiots before they drew too much attention to themselves again. “Is there a store or something nearby that I can use to find you?”

“Oh, there’s an electronic store! Jungkook-ah, what’s the name of that store ov-,” Jimin’s voice abruptly cuts off, and you wait for a few seconds, confused.

“Jiminie?” Silence. “Jiminie, that’s not funny.” You pull your phone away from your ear, glaring at the black screen. You push the side buttons, but nothing happens. “Seriously!?” You smack your palm into your forehead (rather dramatically) before sliding your phone back in your pocket. Dumbass you forgot to charge it when you’d gotten home. “Okay, how hard can it be to find those two?” You mutter to yourself as you move further up the line of traffic, weaving around people who have gotten out of their vehicles.

Maybe the three of you wouldn’t be out here for hours looking for each other.

+++++++

“[Name]-ah?” Jimin pulls his phone away from his ear, blinking at the notification of the dropped call from you. He’s a bit baffled, tightening his arm around the maknae’s neck in response. Jimin glances away from his phone to look around at the mass of stopped cars around them. Despite his elevated position clinging to Jungkook’s back, he hasn’t spotted you.

“Hyung?” Jungkook shifts beneath him, turning his head to try to look at Jimin, curious as to why he’d gone quiet.

Jimin quickly finds your name again in his phone and taps on the call button, bringing the phone to his ear. Almost immediately, the familiar sound of your voicemail meets his ears. “I think [Name]ie’s phone died.” Jimin sighs, ending the call without leaving a voicemail.

“What do we do?” Jungkook asks, trying to keep his head down at the same as he keeps an eye out for you. “We can’t leave her out here.”

“Of course we’re not going to leave her,” Jimin rests his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder for a moment as he wraps his other arm around the maknae’s neck, gently squeezing his arms and legs around the younger. He stays like that for a few moments before he slowly lets himself drop off Jungkook’s back onto his feet. “C’mon, the sooner we find her, the sooner we can go home.”

“Hyung...do you think [Name]-ah will let us get Banana milk before we go home?”

+++++++++++++

Your feet were killing you. Your phone was dead. You’d lost two Idols. You were stressing.

What if an ARMY spotted them again? You couldn’t leave and head to the dorms without finding them, especially if they were looking for you. If your damn phone wasn’t dead, you could have told them to start walking to the dorms and that you would catch up. Alas, you had no communication with them nor the others, leaving you to attempt to hunt them down on foot.

Traffic hadn’t budged in the time you’d been weaving around people and vehicles, trying to find Jungkook and Jimin. You were sure you looked like a freak peering into cars as you passed, fingers crossed that the two had sense enough to maybe, just maybe , get back in the Uber.

“[Name]ie!” Apparently not. Jimin is practically skipping towards you, Jungkook on his heels. You let out an “oof!” as both Jimin and Jungkook collide with you. “Did your phone die?” Jimin asks as they both release you.

“Yeah, I didn’t get a chance to charge it when I got home earlier,” You scrowled down at your bag before fixing both of them with a glare. You poked Jimin and then Jungkook hard in the chest, “ You two ! You were supposed to stay in the Uber.” Jungkook looks a little ashamed, while Jimin has the audacity to look amused. “Maybe I should take Yoongi-ah’s offer to help man-handle you two.”

Jimin’s eyes widen at your words before he promptly bursts into laughter, clutching onto Jungkook to keep from falling over. Jungkook makes a sudden choking noise, face immediately rushing with color as he uselessly tries to talk.

“What? What am I missing?”

“Ahhh, nothing, nothing.”

“I-I...umm..wha-”

“You broke Kookie.”

“Kookie, are you alright?”

“Um...y-yeah,”

You eye the taller boy carefully, briefly debating inquiring further. “C’mon,” You say instead, “Let’s get going. My legs are going to turn to jelly soon.”

“Let me carry your bag,” Jimin snatches the bag from your hand before you can protest, hefting it over his shoulder with a grin in your direction. You reach for it with a huff, but Jimin dances forwards out of reach, and you’re too tired to fight with him.

“Piggy-back ride?” Jungkook asks besides you, and you blink at him in surprise. He stops, crouching down slightly, grinning at you.

“But….ah, fine.” You mumble, jumping up slightly onto Jungkook’s back, wrapping your arms around his neck. The maknae straightens and hurries forwards to catch up with Jimin. It feels nice to be off your feet.

“[Name]-ah….can we get some banana milk?”

“Isn’t that what got you in trouble in the first place?”

“We can’t let it be a wasted trip!”

“Your Hyungs are going to end up sending a search party for us.”

++++++++++

What would have taken 10 minutes, had taken 20 minutes. Stuck on Jungkook’s back, you couldn’t stop him and Jimin from entering the first store they found along the way. Jimin had waltzed through the doors first, Jungkook trailing behind with you still clinging to his back. You’d caught the cashier doing a double take at the sight of the three of you, straightening from his slouch position behind the counter.

Jimin gathered several milks against his chest, managing to snag a strawberry one for you among the banana milk. “Aww, you’re so sweet, Jimin-ah!” You cooed at him as Jungkook followed after his Hyung to the counter.

While the cashier scanned and rang up the price, he curiously flicked his gaze between the three of you. He was quiet, only speaking after Jimin paid (despite your protests), “Have a nice night!” You heard him call as the three of you exited the store and tried to quicken your pace to reach the dorms sooner rather than later.

“We’re dead.”

“Correction, you two are dead.”

“You’re an accomplice to this crime.”

“I was innocently roped into this!”

“Yoongi-Hyung and Jin-Hyung know no mercy,”

“Accept your fate, [Name]ie.”

You squirmed on Jungkook’s back when the three of you finally entered the eerily quiet dorm. Jungkook finally released your legs, and you hopped down to land on your feet, wincing slightly at the discomfort. You were in the middle of removing your shoes when Jin suddenly rounded the corner.

“Where have you been!?” [Literally Jin]

#bts #*mine #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagine #my writing #ot7 x reader #poly!bts x reader #bts fanfiction #wiom fic

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bitchesofostwick · 5 years

Text

According to Plan

okay i have an awful tendency to write birthday-related fics as people’s birthday gifts but i can’t help it, i fucking love birthdays and i’ve been thinking about this one for a long time!!! this one goes out to one of the funniest, most genuine, supportive, and incredible people i have met since joining the fandom: @dickeybbqpit. madie, i love you so much and i am honored to call you my friend. here’s a little something celebrating both kaaras and josie’s love and kaaras and cullen’s bromance (lol).

***

“Val Royeaux,” Cullen grumbles.

It’s not the first time, either. In fact, Kaaras has just about lost count of the times Cullen has muttered something or other about his distaste for the Orlesian city, and they’d only arrived twenty minutes earlier. Admittedly, they make an out-of-place pair, both dressed in riding leathers, fur cloaks still slung over their shoulders from their travels through the snow-covered lands west of the Frostbacks. He swears Cullen even purposely emphasizes his Fereldan accent in the city and on another day, he might bust him up for it, but not today.

Today is Josephine’s birthday.

And after a lot of nagging, a bit of convincing, and a promise that he’d talk Sera out of continuing to leave wasp nests in the landing above Cullen’s tower roof, Kaaras got him to come along and assist with the preparations, remembering that it had been far less difficult to ask Leliana to attend to her part of the plan—coaxing Josephine into the city by proposing a shoe-shopping trip and therefore having her be present in time for the surprise.

After making their way into the square—not without a few more choice mumbles from Cullen—Kaaras crosses his arms, looks expectantly toward his friend.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” he says, and Cullen frowns.

“We get the gift for Josephine,” he sighs, counting each step on his gloved fingers as he revisits their action items. “We make reservations at the cafe. We get the flowers last because Maker forbid they dry out at all before you’re to meet with her—”

“That’s a valid concern, Cullen.”

“—and then I’m finally free to leave, because you’ll be meeting her at the clothing emporium under the guise of finding a new set of robes, at which point you will shout ‘surprise, something something’ and then take her out for dinner.”

Kaaras grins. “Perfect.”

“Well the sooner we find her a gift, the sooner we can get out of here,” Cullen declares, pulling his fingers over the stubble on his chin before scratching the back of his head. “Now, if I recall correctly, there’s a shop around here that sells very nice quill pens, so I think we should begin—”

“I’m not buying Josephine a pen for her birthday,” Kaaras says incredulously, and Cullen wrinkles his nose.

“I don’t see why not. They’re quite practical, and—”

“Then why don’t you get her a pen?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not the one who’s working against time to find a present for my beloved, so—”

“Oh, come on,” Kaaras sighs. Leaving Cullen behind—or at least, a couple of steps behind, because Cullen would probably rather die than be left alone in the busy square of Val Royeaux—Kaaras makes his way down the cobblestone street and into an elegant jewelery shop tucked away in the signature blue-painted city buildings. “This stuff,” he says, gesturing around the shop once the door shuts behind the two of them. “This is the stuff she likes.”

“This is also the stuff that costs the Inquisition—”

“That one.”

They’re hardly inside the shop before Kaaras’ eyes land on an amethyst pendant—tear shaped, hardly the size of his thumbnail and on a silver chain far more delicate than the golden chain she wears while working, but it’s perfect. Delicate like she is.

So despite Cullen’s continued grumbling, the purchase is quick, and the jeweler even boxes the necklace with a matching purple bow.

“Making a reservation next,” Kaaras muses, mentally checking off gift from his list. The pair travel back the way they came and across the plaza, where the little cafe still gets enough warmth from the later afternoon sun. It’s quiet now—between meals—and Kaaras surveys the seating arrangements carefully, walking from table to table. His stops at a a quiet corner spot near the casks of wine in the back—one that would be perfect for chatting together, alone.

Perfect.

“Cullen,” he calls across the room to where his friend still stands uncomfortably by the front. “I’m just going to go look for the—”

“Commander Cullen?”

Oh no.

“Is that you, Cullen?”

It’s her.

With a look of panic on his face that must certainly rival his own, Cullen shakes his head wildly toward Kaaras, gesturing, red faced, as though he’s trying to push a very large object out of the way with his bare hands.

He gets the hint.

Diving quickly behind a table, he only just misses Josephine’s entrance. “It is you!” she says excitedly. From where he crouches, he can only barely see Leliana with her, grimacing—no doubt for the flaw in their surprise. “You are just about the last person I might expect to see in the city today! What brings you here?”

“I—” Cullen stutters. “I, um, was hungry.”

“And...you came all the way to Val Royeaux for a meal?” Josephine asks slowly.

“Um...Maker, no, I mean—”

“Since we are all here, why don’t we go and catch up?” Leliana coaxes, and at her words, the conversation begins to drift further away.

It’s his chance.

With haste, he emerges from his hiding sport. Back to the plan. It takes him little time to locate the owner of the cafe, and less time to reserve his table as planned. Really, it only takes a quick name drop—today is Josephine Montilyet’s birthday you know—and suddenly the man’s promised him the entire restaurant to themselves should he want it.

Gift, check, he thinks as he leaves the restaurant. Reservation, check. Only the flowers left.

By the time he reaches the outdoor market by the docks, the waters surrounding the city are glittering with the oranges and pinks of the sunset. Not much more time. After browsing the stalls quickly, he selects a bouquet of periwinkle peonies—tied again with a matching bow—and begins to head back to the restaurant.

With any luck, Leliana and Cullen will have gotten her back in time.

And indeed, as he approaches the cafe under the outdoor lanterns among the impending dusk, the trio sit together, chatting among the topiaries outside. Leliana notices him first, a smug smile growing on her lips when she does, and then Cullen, who unsurprisingly begins to gather himself immediately and rise from his seat.

“Is something wrong?” Josephine asks him. “First, you come to Val Royeaux with little reason, and suddenly you have to leave? Well, I—”

“Josephine,” Kaaras says softly, and in an instant, she turns around, clapping a hand over her mouth in surprise. “Happy birthday.”

“You—” she says, at a rare loss for words. “You—but you—” She looks wildly from Cullen to Leliana. “This was all planned, was it not? You both knew!”

“Perhaps,” says Leliana with a smile, and Cullen nods.

“Oh, but...Kaaras.”

He beams, holding out the bouquet to her.

“I think we should take our leave, then,” Cullen says quietly, but Kaaras hardly notices when he and Leliana slip away. Right now, it’s just Josephine.

“These are beautiful, Kaaras,” she says breathlessly, bringing them to her nose and taking in their sweet scent.

“If you like those, then just wait,” he laughs, slipping a hand around her back and ushering them both into the cafe.

“It’s not until their seated that he lets himself really admire her. While he and Cullen had dressed for travel, she looked as lovely as ever, if not more so. Gone is her usual dress with her gold chain. Instead she wears one longer, lighter, deep blue skirts of light material falling from her waist. And her smile.

Somehow, they really did pull the surprise off.

“There’s only one last thing,” he says happily, pulling the little box from his pack and handing it to her across the table.

“Oh,” she says softly, eyes widening at the packaging as she accepts it with delicate fingers, pulls the purple ribbon just so until it falls to either side of the box. She pulls the lid of like she does everything else—with care—and her lips form a little O when she looks inside.

“Oh,” she says, a second time, and he feels his heart flutter at her happiness. “Oh, Kaaras. It matches your eyes, my love.”

When he reaches out, she leans in, letting him clip the necklace around the back of her neck, and he grins. “I suppose so,” he agrees, “although that wasn’t my plan when I saw it.”

She beams. “But it makes it all the better, you know.”

Still, he smiles, shrugging sheepishly. “I’m glad you like it.”

#kaaras adaar #josephine montilyet #cullen rutherford #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #mutuals #josie #cullen #my writing

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