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#i still won’t read it because it’s like a million books and i don’t Care that much
bruisedboys · 3 months
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congrats on 6k again !! can i request a hot chocolate for bodyguard!james potter (protective?) thank u sm <33
thank u sweetheart!! join the celebration
bodyguard!james potter x fem!reader cw for a very very brief mention of mild violence
“You’ve gotta be more careful, honey.”
You shy under James’ hot gaze. He’s mad at you, and you hate it more than anything because he never gets mad at you.
“I’m okay, James. Really,” you tell him, though your heart won’t stop racing. You still remember how the mystery man’s hands had felt on you, how hard he’d grabbed you before James had arrived and swiftly punched him in the nose. From there you don’t remember much, only a lot of voices and James hands on you, and a car ride home where he checked you over about a million times for injuries that weren’t there.
“I know you are,” James hums, tucking your hair behind your ear carefully. He towers over you where you sit on your bed. Usually his size feels comforting, like he could protect you from anything. Now it just feels intimidating. “But it could’ve been so much worse, sweetheart. Especially if I wasn’t there, you know?”
You blink up at him. “You’re always there.”
“I am. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful.”
You sigh, embarrassed and upset at yourself. “I know.”
James sighs himself, a heavy, tired thing. You can’t help but feel it’s directed at you. It was your fault you almost got hurt tonight, your fault he and your parents are so disappointed with you. The corners of your eyes prickle with heat. Your face crumples.
“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” James is on you like a hawk, always one to read your expression like you’re an open book. He grabs your face, his big, hot hands pressed to your cheeks. “Don’t cry, sweetness. What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”
You want to shake your head but James’ hands are holding you still. “No,” you stammer. “I’m just … are you mad at me, James? I’m really sorry.”
James stares at you hard, dark eyebrows pinched in the middle. “Angel,” he says after a moment of this, voice dripping in what you think is pity and an overbearing amount of fondness. He slides his fingers to the space under your ear and shakes his head. “No, I’m not mad at you.”
“But—“
“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way,” James says firmly. “But I’m not mad at you, sweet thing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
A single, hot, tear tracks down your cheek. James swipes at it with his thumb.
“Are you sure?” You ask him quietly.
“I’m sure,” James says, nodding once. He smiles softly. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for being firm with you. I was just so worried.”
“It’s okay,” you tell him. You’ve never minded him being firm with you. It’s why you feel so safe with him. You’re so relieved to know he’s not mad at you, it feels like you can breathe again. “Thank you for looking after me.”
James smiles at you, chucks you under the chin and presses a warm kiss to your forehead. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll always look after you.”
When he says it like that, you know for certain you’re in good hands.
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lovestay-channie · 6 months
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Hugs - Seungmin
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Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader
Genre: fluff with a lil angst
Summary: y/n is feeling touch starved, and feeling the need of some comfort. all she wants is a hug.
Word Count: 1.7k
Warning: reader feels sad, in need of comfort, reader has a crush on Seungmin,
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Sometimes there are days where you just need a hug, but you don’t want to ask because it’s weird. Right? Who asks for hugs unless you need comfort, meeting someone after a long time, or saying goodbye. You can’t just ask for a hug.
Sure, maybe you did need some comfort, but someone just holding you for a moment in time sounded refreshing.
Who could you even ask to give you a hug? You thought about it for a while. The thought kept creeping back into your mind every now and then for a week. It was like your heart and soul was crying for a touch of love.
Seungmin, your best friend and secret crush, was over for a movie night. He is quite an observant person. Sometimes he could read you like an open book. It a few glances to tell how you really feel. There have been many moments in your friendship where he could tell you were in an uncomfortable situation, and he tagged along with you so you weren’t alone. He was truly remarkable.
Your eyes were laser focused into the movie, but your mind was completely elsewhere. You didn’t even notice that Seungmin was watching you half the time trying to read your mind. He was convinced something was wrong. Normally, when watching a movie, your feet are propped up on his thighs, yet instead your legs are tucked underneath you with your arms wrapped around them. You were completely on your side of the couch and not in his space.
Next thing you know, the movie is paused. You snap your head towards Seungmin, “Why did you pause?”
You didn’t expect his whole body to be facing you sitting criss cross. He had the remote still pointed to the TV. You could see his eyes examining your whole body. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you need something?”
“Yes.”
You didn’t think he was going to answer so suddenly. You hesitate before speaking, “Okaaay? What do you need?”
“Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Seungmin asks while scooting closer to you, making you lean back.
“I’m sorry, but what the hell are you talking about?”
“I need you to promise.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you won’t tell the truth if I don’t pressure you.”
You scoff at his reasoning. He wasn’t lying, but you hated that he was right. He wasn’t trying to be pushy, but he was trying to tell you he knows something is wrong. You don’t talk about yourself. You don’t let people in because it means they can sneak into your heart. However, Seungmin sneaked in a long time ago without even trying.
“Do you need me to grab a bible or something?” you joke.
Seungmin holds up his pinky. He is one to hold pinky promises sacred. It was a special thing between the two of you. “Pinky promise me.”
You sigh deeply knowing that there was no way out of this. You shortly stare at his long pinky thinking of a way to divert his attention to something else, but Seungmin isn’t stupid. Far from it. You glance up into his eyes. They were stern yet soft. He was trying to be careful.
You adjust to criss cross as well and raise your pinky to interlock with his. “Fine. What is it?”
“What’s wrong?”
Your grip on Seungmin’s pinky tightens. All of your senses are heightened. You didn’t realize that your knees were touching his. Or how your leggings were hugging your thighs. Or how tight your ponytail was. For some reason, his question caught you off guard.
“Why?” you ask
“Just answer the question. Something's off. I can smell it,” he sniffs.
He was trying to lighten the mood with a joke. Something you admire about him.
You loosen your grip and bring your hands down between the two of you, pinkies still intertwined.
Your mind is going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to explain your feelings. Every way you think you can explain it, it sounds dumb in your brain. It sounds unbelievable. You have to be over reacting. Why is your brain thinking this way? Why can’t you just get over it and move on?
“Hey!” Seungmin’s voice break you out of your thoughts. “Come back to the real world please.”
You let out a breathy chuckle, “Sorry. I just… I don’t know how to explain it very well.”
Seungmin shrugged his shoulders while unhooking your pinky from his. “Try me.”
You already missed his soft touch. You knew you were incredibly touch starved to where holding pinkies made you feel safe. You so badly wanted to reach out for his hand again, but instead, you tuck your hands into your hoodie pockets.
“Do you promise not to judge me?” you question.
Seungmin gently rolled his eyes “When have I ever judged you?” You cocked your head to the side and eyes hooded as he replied to his own question. “Don’t answer that.”
You slightly smirked at his comment. You stare at the space between the two of you for a moment before gaining the courage to speak your mind. “Do… do you ever feel like you just need a hug sometimes?”
You looked up into his puppy like eyes, his head tilted slightly. You couldn’t exactly read his reaction. He looked confused, but he looked like his eyes were filled with admiration. An odd combination.
“I know you don’t like skinship, but past that, do you ever just want someone to hold you?” you explain deeper.
The silence grows between the two of you. All you could hear was your own heart beating out of your chest. The heat grew on your already rosy cheeks.  This was a mistake. He may be your best friend, but being vulnerable with him, or in general, has always been difficult.
“You know what,” you lightly chuckle in embarrassment. “Never mind! It sounds silly anyways. I don’t know even what I’m talking abo-“
Arms are suddenly secured around your shoulders, bringing you to a bony shoulder. The smell of sandalwood and musk surround you just like the arms holding you tight. You could feel Seungmin’s breath on your neck. He was so close to you. Sure, you have hugged before, but this was different. This was a hug full of love. You didn’t realize you were frozen until you felt soft fingers caressing your spine. You slowly take your hands out of your hoodie and wrap your arms around Seungmin’s waist, gripping on to him while relaxing into his body at the same time.
“Needing comfort is never silly, Y/N,” Seungmin whispers.
You bury your head into the crook of his neck from his statement. You could almost feel tears brew in your eyes, but you close your eyes to keep them from falling. Seungmin leaves a sweet, tender kiss on your temple before resting his head onto yours. He starts swaying you back and forth.
The hug lasts for what feels like forever. You could get used to this feeling, Seungmin holding you. It was nice to have someone hold you. Someone to rest upon. The world felt a little lighter, just for a moment.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Seungmin breaks the silence.
You pull away from his grasp to look up at him. He still has his arms around you, afraid to let you go. He scans your face to make sure you are okay. He takes a piece of hair that fell out of your ponytail and tucks it behind your ear. It made your heart swoon. “It’s just been tough lately. That’s all really. I’ve felt stuck. I feel like I’m not enough. Just… the same things over and over again,” you explain.
Seungmin knew well of your struggles and insecurities. Trying to do college and work can be difficult sometimes. On top of that, trying to have a healthy social life and schedule can be hectic. This is the first movie night in 3 weeks because of both busy schedules. Seungmin has been preparing for a comeback while you were in the midst of midterms. Finally having this break was nice, but it came with the overwhelming leftover feelings.
“I’m sorry,” Seungmin frowns, resting his forehead on your shoulder while his hands move to around your waist.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Min,” you reassure. Your arms adjust to wrap around his shoulders. One hand finds its ways into his soft, silky hair.
Seungmin shakes his head, “Yes I do. You were there for me all last week while you were swamped with exams, yet I didn’t do anything for you. I was so blind in rehearsals and recording sessions that I didn’t see you were struggling.”
“Oh, Min. It’s okay.”
“No, Y/N. It’s not.” Seungmin lifts his head. His face is only several inches away from your face. His eyes dart back and forth from your eyes. “You helping me was a cry for help. Taking time out of your busy week to comfort me was enough to show that you were also struggling. No sane person goes out of their way when they have too much on their plate.”
‘Well, it helps that I’m basically in love with you’ you think.
You have always been a person who helps others before yourself, especially when it comes to helping Seungmin.
“It’s honestly okay. You are here right now. That’s what matters,” you smile, patting his head.
“What can I do for you right now?” he asks.
“How about you just keep holding me? I think that will help me a lot,” you answer.
Seungmin smiles, “I can do that.”
You adjust your position to both of you lying on the couch. Seungmin’s head rests on the arm of the couch with a pillow raising it up slightly. He pulls you on top of him, legs intertwining together. Your head lies on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Seungmin grabs the remote to continue playing the movie.
“Thank you, Min,” you whisper in his ear.
He tilts his head down to glance at you before pressing his lips to your forehead, “Anytime. I’m always here for you.”
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reverie-verse · 4 months
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I would love to see pregnant!reader x Azriel fic where she gets kidnapped and Az goes crazy cause not only are they mates, but she’s also very close to being due, and I love angst, i love worried but caring Az, and I love happy endings. 🤍🤍
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Azriel Shadowsinger x Reader: His World
I’m letting you decide if it’s a boy or girl and the name because I couldn’t decide😩.
Baby Gender = Y/B/G
Your Baby’s Name= Y/B/N
It’s kinda lengthy, I got really invested 😂
Beware there is some torture-ish stuff. If you get triggered please DO NOT READ THIS FIC.
Last thing, I just wanna say, I have no idea where I was going with this plot, I am so sorry if it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even go with what’s going in the books 🤷🏽‍♀️
My requests ARE OPEN!!!!!!
———————————-
Most of the entire inner circle had stationed themselves downstairs in the living space of the Town House. Rhys and Azriel were nowhere to be seen. Everyone had cringed in discomfort as they heard your vicious scream tear through your throat from upstairs. Mor shook her head as she paced the room. “ They should be back by now” she practically whispers but everyone hears her.
Feyre sighed, rubbing her forehead “ I tried to reach through the bond, but it’s quiet. Azriel has no idea she’s giving birth”
“ One of us needs to go up there and check up on her.” Cassian says.
Amren stood up from the couch, “I’ll do it, she’s been there for me more times than I’d like to admit “ She leaves the living space quickly rushing up the steps. She opens the door only to find you standing at the edge of the bed, one hand gripped onto the comforter, the other hand gripping your stomach. Your hair was pulled back but sweat rolled down the side of your face. You cried as you pushed like Madja had told you to do. You shook your head. “ I can’t, I can’t-“ You were trying to catch your breath.
“ You must Y/N!” Madja encourages you. You shook your head as you wailed. “ You have too”
“ Y/N” Amren rushes towards you. “ What are you doing?!”
Your head shook again “ No, No please I don’t want you to see me like this. Please just get me Azriel, bring my husband to me.” You sobbed. Amren's heart broke into a million pieces while swelling with joy and sadness. You were suffering but you were also bringing a beautiful soul into this world. Amren not one for sentiments, but this moved her in ways that she normally never considered, and still might not. But to each their own, she passed no judgment but she understood you wanted your love with you.
“ I’ll do what I can Y/N” she says as she exits the room, Mor stood at the bottom of the stairs hands fidgety.
“ Anything?”
“ She wants Azriel” Everyone sighs and groans.
“ Feyre you need to try the bond again” Cassian says as he crosses his arms. “ Either that or we get Elain to look forward into the future”
“ That won’t be necessary, I’ll try again” Feyre stood up looking around for a piece of paper to write on. In the midst of her search the home rattled as two figures appeared in the room. Rhys and Azriel trying to catch their breath, their clothes ripped, skin cut and bruised. Feyre rushed to Rhys’s side, but Azriel’s eyes scanned the room and you were nowhere to be found. Everyone rushed to their sides, with an instant the bond that was quiet during his time on the prison island was loud and clear. You scream echoed through the home again, Madja tried to shout over it urging you to keep pushing.
Azriel’s eyes widened his gaze snapping towards everyone “ Y/N?- she’s-“ His voice rasps. Your crying and sounds of moans through your gritted teeth as you pushed were heard through the bond and from upstairs. “Y/N?!” Azriel takes off running for the room, his head boots hitting the floor. There you were hunched over Madja trying to help the baby. Your eyes shut closed, your hair starting to fall into your face. “ Push Y/N Push! I can see the baby’s head!”
The weight of your body and attempting to further push out your child was beginning to weigh down on you, your legs were beginning to buckle you gripped onto the bed until your knuckles started hurting, the material starting to rip. Azriel’s heavy boots pounded against the ground until he got to you. He slid his hand over yours, his other hand wrapping around the one that held your stomach. He stood behind you and off to the side. Warmth comforts your body, and your mind, it seeps around you and practically through you. You lean into him, “ Az-” You turned to look up at him noticing all the cuts in bruises.
“You asshole“ You winced “I told you not to lehhheaavvee-aaaahhh fuck!” You screamed as you felt Madja reach for the baby’s head and shoulders. Azriel couldn’t focus on your words, as he was amazed and awestruck. He couldn’t have been more in love with you right now at this moment. He knew you would be mad at him but right now he didn’t care, he was here with you, with your child who happened to be making its way home.
“Forget about that--I’m here now-“ Azriel shook his head, kissing your head and shoulder, his fingers intertwined with yours, you at this point gripped his hand with all your might. His other hand did the same with yours as you held onto your belly. Your body sinking further towards the ground, at that point Azriel held most of your weight.
“-You gotta keep pushing, I know you’re tired. ” He tells you softly, the baby was half way out of your body, from what Azriel could see. An indescribable feeling bubbles in his chest so many words, and phrases but nothing could truly convey what it was.
You shake your head “ We are-so not- having another- Kiiiihhhhdddddd-” Your body moves to squat as you push your words cutting offer as your breath completely leaves your lungs.
Azriel smiles “ That’s it! One more push, just one more. I can see the babies legs” you nodded hearing his words Madja sharing the same smile. You gritted your teeth hissing out in pain as you pushed one more time. Your eyes widened, you let out a breath of relief, when the baby exited your body. Your tears slowing down, a tired smile graces your lips. Madja stood up with the baby in her arms, a servant rushing over to give her a towel to wrap the baby in. Azriel who’d still held you in his arms, tears filled his own eyes as he caught a look at his new world. The sweet melodic sound of a baby’s crying filling the room letting you both know the baby was there.
You hummed at the reassuring sound, Azriel switched his gaze instantly, his heart leaping out of his chest, your body had given out in exhaustion. He quickly threw your arm around his neck, grabbing both of your legs carrying you bridal style back to your shared bed. “I wanna hold our baby, Az” You sniffle.
“ I know” He whispers as he leans down, capturing your lips with his for a quick kiss, a much needed kiss. He pulls back an inch or too resting his forehead against yours. “ The baby Az” You giggled tiredly letting him know you wanted them.
“ Your baby Y/B/G needs a name” Madja says as she walks towards you both with the baby in her arms. By this point Azriel made the effort to sit directly behind you, your back to his chest, so he could hold the baby and you in his arms. The two of you stared down at your beautiful baby, cooing at it, talking about the features they shared between the two of you. By the time the two of you decided a name for the baby, the entire inner circle rested in your bedroom, they couldn’t wait anymore, they wanted to see their new addition to the family. It was sweet really. A moment the two of you kept sacred and cherished.
———
It was dark, the moon's light shining above the frozen ground. It's been six months since you’d given birth, and here you were running with your child in your arms. Your breath could be seen floating in the air as you ran. Your boots crunching through the snow. Your baby wrapped in thick clothing, their wings shielded hidden from sight and the cold. You were trying to get to the cabin, the only cabin that you knew would be safe. It was the only place you could escape to, the one that only privileged people could get through. Someone would get your child back to Azriel wherever he was at the moment. Either that or he’d find them here…
You were nearing the home as the tiny cabin began to grow in size the closer you got, “ Come on, come on come on,” you say through gritted teeth will your legs go faster. You barely make it to the front entrance of the door, the creature behind you swiping at your legs. You fell to the floor, the baby still in your arms. You landed on your knees, you didn’t waste a second quickly scrambling back up. You were lucky that your baby wasn’t really fussy or easily startled, rather they were quiet, instead an amused smile could be seen. You knew then the baby would take after Azriel and maybe some of their uncle’s tendencies too. Tears filled your eyes, you grabbed the basket that was once used for flower picking. Placing your child inside of it. As if in slow motion the creature behind you roared, you gave one final push to the basket past the threshold into the safety of the home. Brief whine of relief leaves your lips, the smile slipping from your baby's face a little scream sounds off as you are yanked back into the white snowy abyss…
——
Azriel lands down into the ground hard before taking off into a sprint. He practically smashes through the front door “ Y/N???! Y/B/N???!!” He stops about halfway into the living space; Mor holds his baby who cried profusely as Feyre attempts to soothe the little one with warm milk. His brothers and Amren search the entire cabin. Rhys however walked out of one room rushing to his brother's aide placing his hands on his shoulders. Azriel’s chest was tight and his heart ached, tears filled his eyes. He forces them away, he’s a spymaster, he has the ability to command shadows and darkness. He took on various opponents, ranging from different statuses. Yet he still managed to get his wife, his mate, kidnapped. He thought he’d done a better job at hiding the both of you, you had only barely given birth six months ago.
“ I need to find her” He growled, the wailing babe still calling out for their mother and father. But Azriel was distracted. Mor tried to rock the baby, the milk was no help, Feyre tried to find another blanket to wrap the baby in.
“ I know, and when we do we make them wish they hadn’t taken her.” Rhys responded as clenches his jaw.
Cassian moved towards his brothers, his nose flared, “Whoever took her will pay for it.” He growls.
Amren stepped towards the group, “ Do either one of you have a plan? Hmm? “
“ We don’t even know who took her” Feyre says as she stood with Mor, still the baby wailed, nothing could get them to settle down. Azriel couldn’t neglect his duties any longer swiftly walking to Mor. He gently took the baby in his arms holding them, the way you would, he leaned towards his baby’s head placing a small kiss. It’s beautiful big eyes that resembled yours, stared up at him, a sad smile graced their features. The wailing had come to a stop, instead little sniffles were heard. Azriel’s heart, though already broken and panicked, yielded a deeper pain, a pain for his child who witnessed the kidnapping of their mother.
Everyone had remained quiet watching the moment unfold and it was then that Azriel cried for the first time in front of everyone. He was good about hiding his pain, but not after he met you, not after he fell in love with you, not when the bond snapped in place, not even when he watched you birth the other half of his world. All those times you saw every emotion, every thought, all of it. At one point the group moved to grasp Azriel in a hug, and it did nothing for him. He only wanted your touch and your love. He wanted to be held by you. Azriel moved out of the way searching the home himself with his restless child in his arms. He couldn’t wallow in his feelings if he was going to find you. He needed to be the spymaster now, the Shadow singer. It was then did he call for his shadows to search other areas. Of course as they approached, they caressed the baby's face before disappearing. The baby in between shut their eyes, falling asleep finally. Everyone at that could relax just a little bit easier.
Azriel knew that you would’ve brought the baby here for this exact reason, that they all would come here. You trusted that by doing this, he would find you. The question was who took you. Azriel stepped into his room looking for anything that you might’ve left in there but you didn’t. A shadow reappeared dancing along his shoulder sneaking back towards the sleeping babe. His eyes followed the movement, the shadow quickly slipped through the blankets of the babe pulling out a note. Azriels eyes widened. How could he have missed that. He took the note, unfolding it. Ianthe. His breath caught in his throat, anger bubbling up the surface, the note in his hand crumbling the paper. He stormed back to the living space quickly handing Mor the baby. Rhys and Cassian stand up straighter.
“You know where she is” Rhys says.
“ Ianthe has her, the only place that could remotely bring her refuge is Hybren campsite. But I highly doubt it, the travel is distant, and winnowing can only get you so far before you become exhausted” Azriel replied.
“ You think she’s somewhere close by then?” Rhys suggests
“ She has to be”
“ So what are we waiting for? Let’s go get her!” Cassian retorts, his fists clenching into a fist ready to fight for his family.
“ We can’t until we know her exact location, I can’t feel her through the bond, we need to track her” Azriel moves forwards towards the door, grabbing the things he needed amongst that he ordered at least two or three of his shadows to remain with the baby. He was bringing you home.
Rhys looked at the group before deciding who stayed and went “ Amren stay here with Mor, Feyre I need you to come with us, you’re the only other person who might be able to save her” Amren gave a curt nod, Feyre moved next to her husband quickly, as the little group takes off and into the cold sky.
——————
You were thrown into the hard ground of a temple you’d never seen before. Your hands attempted to catch your fall before you were yanked back up by a soldier. You were breathing quickly and you struggled against the hold. Ianthe shook her head. “ I used to come here to pray, to find peace and solace. Now it’s ruined and destroyed, taken from me.” Ianthe clasps her hands together.
“ What does that have to do with me?” you say through gritted teeth, trying to wiggle out of the soldier's hold again his grip on you tightened.
“ I’m so happy you asked, boys, would you do me the honor and bring her up to the altar” She’s smiles, though to anyone else it looks sweet and meaningful, but in between you could see the malice behind it. You tried to fight off the soldiers as they dragged you up towards the altar, a slab of stone placed in the center. Another soldier had reached for the chains that were placed on the edges.
“ No-No-No!” You shook your head doing everything you could to get out of there to go back home, to your family, to your loved ones. But it was too late, two soldiers grabbed your legs and arms lifting you up, and placed you on the cold stone. Each soldier took your wrists and ankles, chaining them down.
“I am so delighted to tell you the reason you are here. You see, you are a sacrifice, you’re a librarian no? You know what is to come of these next few events. We will take all of Prythian and to do that I need my priestesses to be fully powered and well” She tells you as she takes steps closer to the Altar.
“ That has nothing to do with me!” You yelled. One of the soldiers back handed you and another socked you in the lower stomach. You yepped in pain, everything was still tender from when you’d given birth.
“ Oh but it does. You gave birth to an Illyrian baby, you are a lesser fae whose kind has never done such a thing. How you were capable of holding his child is beyond me. Which makes you my most unique sacrifice. You’ve read the sacred texts, books, poems, you know this is a rare occurrence.”
“ I don’t know what you’re talking about” You spit in her face.
Ianthe moved out of the way, the same malicious smile on her features“ Hmm but you do, you know as well as I do, that lesser fae can bring life force back into this temple. Your kind is known for its sacrifices, and we thank you for it-“She sighs happily as she takes a step back. “ -You may proceed with the preparations. I must retrieve my book, Sister, I need you to perform a blessings” As she walked away, her heels clicked against the concrete floor, another silent priestess walked in her place. She gave a simple nod to the soldiers, hands placed on your shoulders pinning you further into the stone. Your head was pushed to the side exposing the side of your neck. A hand pressed smashed your face into the stone. Your body shook, as you kicked your legs and yanked at the chains around your wrist. Another soldier walked in, a hot branding iron made its way towards you, to mark you.
“ Please don’t do this, I have a family” You begged, as the silent priestess sang her prayer. All you could think about was your family, your mind drifting to each person. You could see all of their smiles, you could hear their laughter echo in your mind. Your mind tracked back to sweet tender moments you shared with each person. But one you found yourself replaying was Azriel. You thought back to the moment you met him, you thought back to the time your baby was born. Your baby. Oh your baby, your little world- The soldier moved closer you could feel the heat of the branding iron making your skin rise. The hot burning metal pierced your skin. Your flesh burned, white hot pain shot through your whole body. You screamed at the pain, tears slipped down your cheek, your voice becoming raw. The symbols of various shapes of the moon branded into your skin.
The priestess continued her melody of prayer, the soldiers removed their hands and iron, Your wrists and ankles still chained. The sound of grinding gears and rotating drums echoed in the room. The slab of stone shook, shuddered and vibrated as it began to lower. You turned your head looking around you, water started to fill the slab you laid on. Your- Azriel’s tunic that you wore is becoming wet. The water is ice cold, you start to hyperventilate, to the point you could even think or speak. You didn’t get the opportunity to scream again for help as the water completely submerged you, you couldn’t focus, your oxygen was running low, you were starting to choke. You fought at least a few more times for air but you could feel yourself slipping, you were trying to hang on but you couldn’t. You could see shadows flying above you, maybe Azriel was sending you comfort, you weren’t sure, maybe you were imagining it, maybe this was it… peace…
A loud boom could be heard, the door to the temple blown to bits, voices boomed across the space, soldiers yelled and the priestess sang louder. Your eyes fluttering, you were close..The shadows above panicked as they scurried from one end to another. Swords and knives clashed. One flew past the water that swallows you whole. It hit the priestess who must’ve fallen onto the floor from the wound. More sounds emitted around you, death, death had come for you, this was not how you planned to die, but maybe this was the wish of Mother.
Azriel ran to the stone altar jumping into the water “Y/N?!” He called out to you. As he landed in the water, he could see your eyes had closed, you looked as though you were merely sleeping. Half of your neck is marked in those moon symbols. “ Fuck, Y/N?!! Cass?! Rhys?! I need one of you to help me get these chains off of her!” He kneels down into the water pulling on the chains. Cassian and Rhys run to the other side working on your ankles. Once you were free Azriel lifted up your body carrying you bridal style out of the water. He dropped down to the floor with you in his arms. His one free hand caressed the side of your face, tears painted his cheeks with stains. How could anyone do this to you, you deserved none of this. “ Y/N come back to me please” He whispers to you.
Your body limp and cold, Cassian had to look away from you, this memory would haunt him forever. His heart and soul shattered, and for someone who had seen so much death, this was one he wished he’d never witness. Azriel shook you, talking to you, trying to wake you up. He hadn’t thought to ask Feyre and Rhys. But the two were skeptical, they weren’t even sure they could bring you back. Azriel turned to his brothers and his high lady.
“ Do something!” He yelled. “ Anything please! Bring her back to me! I can’t live without her!”
Rhys frowned deeply, his heart aches for his brother, he walked over placing a hand on his shoulder. Feyre had turned away, wiping the tears from her eyes. She wasn’t ready to give up either just like Azriel, but she wasn’t sure if she could bring you back. Rhys knew it was too late for you to be saved. Azriel looked away from his brother and down towards you. His sobs ripped through his heart, mind and soul, as he lowered his head towards you. His forehead touched yours as he cried, a raspy scream left his lips and throat. Feyre and Cassian both moved toward each other, tears falling down their own faces. Rhys bowed his head, his silent tears dropping to the floor.
An unusual occurrence had taken place, Azriel’s shadows swarmed around you and Azriel both. Rhys took a step back, Cassian and Feyre grasped onto one another. Your eyes opened as you sucked in a breath of air choking on the water that was still in your lungs and you turned to the side spitting out the water. Azriel moved his head away from you, giving you a moment to breathe, couldn’t believe his own eyes. You looked around the room, your eyes finding Feyre, Rhys, Cassian, and then Azriel. The bond that was once quiet is now loud again. Azriel smiled, his glistening tears free falling once more. His hand gripped the tunic of his you wore. Your hand grabbing onto his forearm, he leans downward, his forehead touching yours.
“ Az-Azriel-“ You whispered breathlessly. He nods his head. “ My-My he-hero” you shivered from the cold.
“ Don’t-don’t you ever leave me” He tells you as his hand slides upwards to cup the back of your neck and intertwine in some of your hair.
“ I won’t” you whispered softly, he leaned down capturing your lips with his for a brief moment or two, the kiss sweet and languid.
“ We need to go Az” Rhys says, interrupting you both. Azriel sighs, his thumb running along your cheekbone. He removes his hands, one rested against your back while the other went under your legs, he carried just like he had when you gave birth. He walked out of the temple with you in his arms, taking off into the sky…
——-
When you arrived home everyone rushed to your side, Azriel refused to let you walk but you didn’t care. You forced your way out his hold, but his arm stayed wrapped around your middle holding onto you. You greeted everyone and told them you were okay. The mark imprinted on your skin permanently told you that you were a survivor, you didn’t want Madja to take that away. Azriel didn’t agree with that idea much, but it’s what you wanted.
You eyes searched the room for your baby, who to your surprise Amren held closely. Tears filled the brims of her eyes but as stubborn as she was, she never let them fall. Amren walked towards you placing the little babe in your arms. The babe had woke up from its slumber, a sweet smile spread across its face. Silent tears rolled down your face, as you leaned down to kiss your baby’s cheeks and nose. A giggle sounded off causing the group to grin from ear to ear. Everyone huddled close together wrapping their arms around you. That night everyone stayed in the cabin. Too worried about what might happen if they left. As cassian said “better with numbers”.
Azriel had walked you to the bedroom, helping you clean yourself up. You wanted to lay down with your baby and your mate. He respected that wish, it was the same wish he had. He laid down on his side, you tucked into his chest, the babe laid front of you both. You wrapped your arms around the baby, and Azriel wrapped his arms around you.
“ I love you” He whispers into your ear.
“ I love you too” You replied, you could feel Azriel tug you impossibly closer to him. That night he slept with both eyes open. Never again will he underestimate his enemies, and never again will he leave you and your baby defenseless. You, both were his world after all.
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queen-of-hobgobblers · 8 months
Text
Okay, so I’m in the middle of a part 2 for Ghostprowler (that doesn’t end the story and honestly, creates more room for one; I’m ready to put the work aside after the sequel is done though).
Anyway, I was brainstorming, and here are some Ghostprowler ideas I won’t be able to put into the fic:
Miles picking up graffiti cans for the first time in years to paint Gwen (and our Miles, and his dad) in an abandoned subway station because he cannot get her eyes out of his head, and he thinks maybe painting them out will help him process them better or somethin, he’s not even sure at this point.
Gwen writing and listening to songs about falling for someone’s “twin” or doppelganger and getting really metaphysical about it.
Miles holding his claw out for Gwen to grasp and her narrowing her eyes before reluctantly taking it, because she knows what that claw is capable of. But him being ridiculously careful and gentle when taking hold of her hand because he’s still Miles and he cares about her safety even if he doesn’t like her all that much.
Miles lowkey freaking about how well Gwen knows him (because of how well she knows her own Miles), which is to the point where every time he tries to hide something from her or mask his emotions, she can read him like an open book, and it scares him that he’s left so vulnerable to someone he barely knows yet.
Gwen finding Miles and Aaron’s plans and blueprints before fondly smiling at some doodles she recognizes at Miles scribbled into the corners. Gwen later nabbing him a sketchbook before she leaves his dimension, as she knows he would never buy one for himself. It results in Miles filling its pages with Gwen, similar to Miles-1610.
Miles using his claw to tilt Gwen’s chin up, skim her cheeks with the sharp fingertips but in the softest, gentlest way possible because once again, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Gwen feeling and finding the smallest of cuts and scratches on her cheeks in the aftermath and then strangely finding herself savoring them.
Miles scoffing when he, Aaron and Gwen are forced to steal something to find Miles 1610 like, “Sorry. Is this too morally grey for your superhero sensibilities?” And she just rolls her eyes before stealing two of those things and then a bunch of things that don’t matter (candy bars, hair dye since the pink is fading out) before raising a brow at him and daring him to challenge her. Miles finds a newfound respect for his begrudged accomplice.
Miles finding Gwen curled up on herself and, recognizing the behavior as similar to his own, thereby sort of knowing when to leave her be or reluctantly ask if she wants to talk about it (sometimes she relents).
Miles is, deep down, a scared kid, right? So the best way to deal with that, in his perspective is to make himself as big as possible. He wants to gain the upper hand in every situation as soon and as effectively as possible, and he wants you to know it. But frustratingly, every time he tries in this case, Gwen surprises him? “Oh, you’re a vigilante Prowler who patrols the city with your uncle? You act all tough and intimidating, and have a big reputation preceding you? Rightfully so? Well, that’s cool. I was bitten by a radioactive spider that gave me mutant spider powers, of which I have a two year mastery of. You can use your tech to traverse through buildings and fly through the city? Cool. I can do that with sheer athleticism. Also, my webs. A single strand of these bad boys can lift five hundred million times their weight, so. You know.” And once again, that makes him feel vulnerable, even if Gwen would never do anything to purposefully hurt him
Miles asking several subtle lowkey interrogative questions about Gwen pertaining to her intentions and her prowess and even the little things, like how she knows so much about Rock and what her father’s like to gain more insight into his begrudged partner but also because he’s genuinely curious and wants to know more about her
Miles and Gwen making off-handed, half-aggressive half-flirty quips at one another
Miles and Gwen nearly throwing hands when things get heated but also going feral on someone who manages to land a scratch on the other
Just. Them.
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certainmaybe · 3 months
Text
Family Dinner
“I hate this dress.” Villains Sidekick had made the same comment about a million times.
“And the moment we are out of here you can dress like the devil's long lost daughter again.”
“You said that when I work with you I can do whatever I want.”
“I’m sorry about that. Let me correct myself. You can do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t get you killed.”
“Would Supervillain really kill me for not dressing the way they like?” Sidekick didn’t show it of course, but Villain had spent enough time with her to know when they were afraid. And why wouldn’t they? They were basically a child and the one grown up they even half trusted had told them they were going to die. Villain really needed to read up on how to parent, because they were fucking this up.
“It’s going to be fine, Sidekick. I just don’t want to take any chances with Supervillain. They are…”
“And you remember the code word, right?” The sound of Heroes voice made Villain freeze. They hadn’t really been talking, recently. And before that they had been talking a lot. At least Villains Sidekick seemed to have forgotten about their fear and instead looked at Villain expectantly.
“Yes, I remember,” answered Heros Sidekick, a shy kid that shouldn’t be fighting crime in Villains opinion, but Hero had argued that sending them away would only do more damage. “Why do they want to see us?”
“I don’t know, I’m sorry. Just remember, give me the sign and I will get us out of there as fast as I can. I won’t leave you hanging, I promise. You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to.”
While Vilain and their Sidekick had dressed for the occasion, which was being politely invited to dinner by a very powerful psychopath, Hero seemed to have dressed down almost on purpose. They had an agitated edge to them, shoulders tense and on hand on their sidekicks arm, as if they were afraid somebody would take them away.
“Oh,” was what they said when they saw Villain.
“Looks like a party.” Villain tried to sound nonchalant, but they were scared shitless of Supervillain and on top of that they were kind of afraid of Hero, if for a very different reason.
“They invited you?” Villain could see Hero timing their breaths to stay calm. In. Wait. Out. In. Wait. Out.
“Most formal invitation I ever received. With a fruit basket and flower bouquet.”
“What kind of flowers?”
“White ones? I don’t know.”
“You know they made me learn the symbolism behind every flower? Back then, when…” Hero stopped when there was a sound behind the unassuming door they had both been waiting in front of. “Don’t let her sit next to Supervillain,” Hero whispered, nodding in the direction of Villains Sidekick.  “Supervillain sits on the left end, Right Hand on the right. Have her sit next to Right Hand.”
And then the door was open, and Supervillain looked at them, smiling like only they could smile.
“Villain, I’m so glad you could make it. And Sidekick, it’s so nice to meet you. But what kind of host am I? Come in, give me your jackets, make yourself right at home.”
The house they entered was normal to a horrifying level. No, not normal. Normal would have been okay. This was domestic. There was a coat rack overflowing with different coats and jackets, shoes piling up below it. Framed pictures of grinning children, pimply teens and young adults were lining the hallway, most of whom looked uncomfortably familiar. A picture of Hero, years younger, reading a book, obviously unaware of the camera. Villain took care not to look at it too obviously, if not only because Supervillain was watching every move, but because Villain knew that Hero wouldn’t want them to see. It smelled like onions in a frying pan. In the living room waited a table, set for six people.
“Medic isn’t joining us?” Hero asked, still tense, still one hand on their sidekicks arm.
“Not today, honey. I told them that RightHand and I needed to have a talk with you, so they offered to go out.”
“So they are allowed to go out on their own.”
“Let’s not get into that fight, Hero. Now, what can I get you to drink? RightHand bought red wine, and some soda for the children, but if you want something else, please ask.”
“Water, please.” 
Villain, who had never been known to shrink away from social situations, felt frozen in place. They were in Supervillains home. They were in Heros childhood home. Those two things were one and the same. And they were standing in the middle of it. Fuck.
“And what can I get you, dear?”
“Water,” Villain said numbly, hoping that their sidekick wouldn’t say something to get themself in trouble.
“I’m fine,” they said and Supervillain disappeared into what was most likely the kitchen.
What the fuck villain mouthed into Heros direction.
Just play along Hero mouthed back, which wasn’t helpful at all.
“Now, please, sit down, dinner is just about ready.” With a tray of glasses, Supervillain reappeared and gestured to the set table. Hero, with the expression of somebody going to their execution, took their place to Supervillains right, and since Villain didn’t want their sidekick to be in any unnecessary danger they followed suit, taking the place to Supervillains left. Soon after RightHand appeared, serving all of them with what seemed to be some roast, mashed potatoes and green beans. They also brought out a salad, all the while filling the silence with disturbingly comfortable smalltalk. 
During dinner they asked about Heroes Sidekicks schoolwork and commented about how they needed to eat more, with Hero mostly answering for them. Villains sidekick got the same treatment, though Villain was confident in their ability to handle passive aggressive remarks themselves. Villain was questioned too, in the most polite way they had ever been questioned. 
Did they like their work? 
How much free time did they have? 
Were they financially stable? How was their living situation? 
Had they ever thought about retiring? 
Villain answered as politely as possible, all the while being acutely aware that they were playing some game nobody had bothered to explain to them. Hero was only getting tenser by the minute.
It was during dessert that Supervillain called Hero away for a talk. At this point Villains first impulse was to jump between them and get Hero, but this was Supervillain. Realistically the only thing Villain could do was dirty their suit with villains own blood. So they let it happen, tense to the core, while RightHand fussed over the sidekicks.
When they returned Supervillain looked pleased and Hero sick. Hero had something in their hand. Hero was walking towards Villain. They knelt in front of them.
Villain wasn’t stupid. They knew what a proposal was. They just didn’t understand how this could be a proposal, and how they could be the person being proposed to. So it had to be a prank. Or something else. It just didn’t make sense.
“Villain,” said Hero, as if the name alone held the weight of the world. “We have known each other for a long time, and while we were never on the same side, we were never really enemies either. We were friends. Then more than friends. And now I ask you to marry me, to take my side, and your side and turn it into our side.”
For a moment Villain thought they had to be dreaming. Because they had dreamed of this, in the months where Hero and Villain had been talking, and more than talking and everything had felt like a dream. But then Hero had stopped talking to them and Villain had given up and now they were here, looking down at Hero who looked so, so scared.
Just say yes, Hero mouthed. And when Villain didn’t react, please.
“Yes,” said Villain, though the word didn’t feel like their own. A loud pop made them flinch, only to realize that a bottle of champagne had been opened.
“Congratulations,” Supervillain called while RightHand drew Villain into a tight hug.
“We are so glad that you are part of our family now.” Villain felt Heros hands shake as they slid the ring on their finger. It was a beautiful ring, but it felt cold.
##
The celebrations had passend in a blur, and before Villain knew what was happening they were standing outside again, in a now cold night, twisting the ring on their finger.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Hero said. “And thank you, for saying yes. I promise I will get you out of this, somehow, I just need time. Once Supervillain has decided that things should be a certain way they just… well, you saw it. But I know them, or at least I know how they work, and if you just give me time, I will get you out of this.” Hero was looking at Villain, eyes shiny from uncried tears. “And then you will never have to see me again.”
“Hero I- is that why you stopped talking to me?” Hero didn’t need to respond, Villain had been reading them for almost a decade now.
“It’s just better to stay away from me. I am not… good.”
“Hero…” Villain didn’t know what to say. Or better, they had a million things they wanted to say, had wanted to tell Hero for weeks now, but Hero just refused to hear. And then they knew exactly what to say. “Hero, do you want to marry me?”
“What?” Hero looked at Villain as if they had lost their mind, and Villain sure felt like it, but if there was a time to do it it had to be now.
“Hero,” they repeated, getting down on one knee. “Do you want to marry me?”
“I… you don’t have to do this, Villain. You don’t need to… this is my problem, not yours. It would only mess up your life.”
“That’s not an answer, Hero. I am asking if you want to marry me. I don’t care if it’s complicated or if your family is… so much more messed up than I expected. If you want me, I’ll be there. If you don’t…” Well, then Villain would spent a lot of time crying their eyes out.
“You are really serious about it? This isn’t… some joke? Because if you do this and then back out, I don’t know how Supervillain would take it. I don’t think they would take it, to be honest. And we are still on different sides. I won’t give up my work.”
“I don’t want you to change for me, Hero. I just…” Villain made a vague gesture, hoping to get around saying what they truly wanted. Because Hero, the gosh darn people pleaser they were, would say yes. And Villain couldn’t live with the idea that Hero might regret saying yes to them.
“Yes,” Hero said, in a choked out way that could hardly be heard. They offered Villain a hand, pulled them up and looked at them like they were something sacred they were giving an oath to. “Yes,” they repeated, now clearer. Villain decided to cut the dramatics short and finally kiss Hero.
“Gross,” commented their Sidekick from behind.
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year
Text
wool
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warnings: Steve Harrington x reader, talking on the phone, knitting, Steve being a little sad
word count: 850
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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Scrambling to move the mess of yarn off of your lap, you picked up the loudly ringing phone and pressed it against your ear. Shivering lightly at just how cold it was against your skin, you spoke, “hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart…” you heard the quiet voice of your boyfriend speak. 
“Steve, hi!” instantaneously, a smile appeared on your face, “what’s up?”
“Oh, um, not much,” he responded, wearily, “I just called because I wanted to hear your voice…”
“Okay…” your brows drew together, “Steve, are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine,” he brushed your worry off, “what, um, what did you do today?”
“Ah, not really anything worth telling you about.”
“Really?”
“I just don’t think you’d find it that interesting.” 
“Try me,” he tested simply in a soft tone. 
“Okay,” you got up from your position on the bed, “I, um, I read a lot today, so I’m almost done with that book-“
“Is it the one you had with you last weekend? The one with the, um, couple on the cover?” his memory actually surprised you a bit. 
Walking over to the nearby window, you became thankful for the sometimes annoyingly long cord on your phone, granting you this mobility, “yeah, that one.”
“Is it good?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” you reached out your pointer finger and ran it over the smooth wood of your windowsill, “you know, it’s just a romance I found at the library…”
“…did you do anything else?”
“Um, well,” you tapped your finger a bit as you recalled your day, “I went on a walk, did a few chores I had been procrastinating to do, laundry, cleaned the bathrooms, that kind of stuff.”
“Is that why it took a little bit for you to pick up the phone? Was that what you were doing right now when I called you?”
“Oh, no,” you glanced back at the pile of wool on your bed, “I was just knitting, and you called right while I was doing this thing that I couldn’t just stop in the middle of, or I properly could, but I had to finish.”
“What was it?”
Taking a seat on the windowsill, you hesitated, “Steve, it’s okay, it's very sweet, but you don’t have to ask me about it, I know it’s not very interesting for you, I don’t wanna talk your ear off about something you don’t care about.”
“Can you just tell me about it?” he asked in a small voice, “please?”
“Okay… well,” you leaned your head against the cool glass, “I’m knitting a sweater for my brother right now, or well, I’m knitting a few things at the moment, but that’s just what I’m working on tonight, and the kind that he requested is kinda complicated, or, it’s alright, but I can’t just close my eyes while doing it, you know? Anyways, it has this specific design with all these different colours, so if I mess one stitch up then it won’t really look right. So, I just have to concentrate a lot, count a bunch, and keep track of where I am. Also, I’m usually pretty good at reading and understanding the patterns, but I feel like I have to reread this one a million times before it clicks in my brain, so yeah…” looking out at the foggy street beneath your bedroom window, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” his words said one thing, but his tone said another.  
“Did something happen?”
“It’s nothing, I don’t wanna bother you with it…”
You would give this man the whole world if you could. 
“Steve, would you like me to come over?”
“It’s getting kinda late, it’s okay…”
“No, no,” you glanced back to check the indeed late time on the round clock atop your bedside table, “I can be there in a few minutes, it’s no bother, trust me. If it could make you feel a little bit better, then I’ll be there. I mean, even if it’s not because you’re feeling down, I still wanna be there, I always wanna be with you,” deciding to joke for a moment, “you would have to defend yourself with a bat to keep me away. I always wanna be with you, but especially when you’re like this, and if my being there can in some way help, then I want to help. I wanna help you, Steve.”
“Okay…” he breathed out slowly, surrendering to your aid, “but take the yarn with you.” 
Images of the two of you curled up together started flooding your brain. Him behind you with his warm arms around your body, cheek pressed against yours, enjoying the soothing clatter of your knitting needles and keeping a close eye on every single stitch as they moved from one stick to the other. “Deal. I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Thank you…”
When you jumped off the windowsill, you paused a second before hanging up, “hey, Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know…” you thought you heard a muffled sniffle, “I love you too.”
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hc-viii · 8 months
Text
The Dandelion Wars, Chapter One
The child was found behind Jacey Likeel’s tavern, spitting and howling and clawing for dear life.
She was small, and young, probably only 12 years old, with a nest of hair and a strange wardrobe that consisted of rough belted trousers that didn’t even reach her knees and a massive roughly woven sweater that hung around her like a sack. She had a scar on her upper lip and a pair of sharp black eyes that seemed to assess the whole situation in a breath. And her conclusion? It was fighting time.
Of course, the onlookers got the head wizard, Laudine, as fast as they could manage, as soon as she left her meeting, and pulled her down to the docks to look at the child. She was, after all, in charge of the country’s defense, and while no one really viewed this child as a threat, it couldn’t really hurt to be sure.
“Is she hurt?” Laudine asked, as she floated down the street, her long blue silk dress flowing around her. “Can you tell?”
“She won’t let anyone get close enough to tell, M’Light,” One of the cobblers said, apologetically. “We’re really not sure what to do.
Her lips pressed together in a thin, sharp line.
She knew, of course, why she was the one fetched, and not her brothers. Jeynu would never in a million years take this seriously, no doubt making it some sort of joke, before brushing off the child and leaving it to fend for itself once more, while Delmonico would just scare the poor thing, but it still made her bitter to have been reduced to “responsible motherly one” for the hundredth time.
The child was huddled behind a pile of barrels, teeth bared at anyone in sight, and that didn’t change when she saw Laudine.
That was a first, the wizard had to admit- for her whole 32 years of life, never before had she ever been treated as a physical threat, without an ounce of respect.
“Hello, dear,” She said, trying to channel her absolute best kind leader voice. Around her, the crowd murmured in approval. “What’s the matter?”
“Fuck off,” The child muttered, and everyone balked. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Laudine blinked, hard, before bursting into laughter. Uncomfortably, the crowd chuckled along.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I- oh,” The wizard took a second to wipe her eyes. “Do you know who I am?”
“I don’t know and I don’t give a damn,” The girl snapped. “You could be Neve Campbelle for all I care.”
“I’m Laudine,” Laudine said. “I’m the head wizard of the Triacrona.”
The girl paused in her snarling at that, blinking up at her. “The fucking what of the where?”
“Hm?”
“Wizards aren’t real.”
At that, it was Laudine’s turn to be rendered speechless, blinking at the girl uselessly. “I’m sorry?”
“Wizards aren’t real, you stupid fuck,” She repeated, slower. “Just because you dress up like it’s Halloween doesn’t make you a wizard.”
Laudine frowned. “I think… I think you should come with me. Where are you from?”
“Nunya.”
“Where?”
“Nunya business.” The girl said, looking strangely proud of herself.
Laudine exhaled, trying very hard not to lose her temper. This was probably just a lost little girl with a very strange sense of humor. Once this was all resolved, she’d go home, and have a nice long bath, and read a book or two on moths or butterflies. And maybe blow something up.
“Come on, honey, let’s get you to the manor,” She said, trying very hard to smile. It seemed to work if the second wave of content murmurs to sweep the crowd meant anything. Yes, no one could say Laudine wasn’t good at her job, that was for sure. “Come on.”
“What if I don’t?”
Laudine sighed, pinching the ridge of her nose. “Then I’ll have the guards throw you into a dungeon. How about that?”
Of course, the guards wouldn’t really throw her into a dungeon- she was obviously under 20, the legal age to be considered an adult, and Laudine wasn’t sure the people would like that all that much, especially considering their reaction to that rather empty threat, but still, it seemed to work, as the girl only hesitated a moment longer before standing.
She was incredibly small, probably only coming up to Laudine’s hip. Maybe that was normal for a child her age. Maybe not. She was stick thin too, reminding the wizard a bit of herself as a child. Her nest of hair was a similar shiny black, as well, although Laudine wasn’t she’d ever had it quite that tangled in her life.
That’s where the similarities ended.
While Laudine had dark brown skin and a proud nose, the girl had pale skin and a flat bridge, little slanted eyes with nubby lashes. She vaguely, Laudine thought, reminded one of a cat, or perhaps a fae dog.
“What’s your name?” Laudine asked.
“I’m not supposed to give my name to strangers.”
Laudine snorted. “I’m very clearly not a Fae Friend, you have nothing to worry about.”
The girl squinted at her. “What?”
“What’s your name?”
“...Millie.”
“I’m Laudine,” Laudine said, thoroughly unable to remember if she’d already said that. “Head wizard.”
“This is so weird,” Millie muttered. “Wizard named Lardy, why not?”
“Laudine.” Laudine corrected.
“That’s what I said.”
She squinted. “Where are you from, Millie?”
“New York.”
“Where?”
“It’s in another time,” Millie waved a hand. “You wouldn’t know it.”
Laudine stared at her for a beat before turning and walking. After a second, she heard the girl’s shoes flap against the ground behind her.
“Hey, Lardy, where are we going?”
“The manor,” Laudine gritted out. She was really looking forward to blowing something up when she got home. “I’m taking you to meet the other two Crowns.”
“The what?”
“My brothers. The King and The Head of Architecture.”
“Oh,” Millie fell silent for a few glorious moments, before sniffing loudly. “If your brother is the King, why aren’t you princess?”
“Because I’m a wizard. You can’t be a wizard and a princess,” Laudine sighed. “That’s just not how it works.”
“Why?”
Laudine didn’t respond.
The walk wasn’t a particularly long one, but fortunately, the hills and scenery were enough to wear Millie into silence for the rest of the walk. Laudine was seriously starting to suspect this was a farm kid who’d never been to the capitol, if her shocked expression at the fire fruit trees was anything to go off of. She probably had never seen faelora.
By the time they’d reached the manor at the top of the hill the city was built on, Millie was breathing hard, her little round face red. Laudine felt a moment of guilt, but it faded as soon as Millie’s face wrinkled in disgust.
“That’s such a lame castle.”
“It’s not a castle,” Laudine sighed. “It’s a manor. Our castle is elsewhere.”
“That’s stupid.”
Laudine rolled her eyes, nodding to the guards at the front gates, who let her in.
The manor’s front courtyard was a beautiful affair, with community gardens and a small pond with a bridge going over it, but Millie seemed unimpressed, huffing under her breath as she followed Laudine to the front doors.
“Herrady,” Laudine called to the butler. “Can you fetch my brothers? Tell them we have a young guest who claims to be from another time.”
“The future,” Millie piped up. “Way in the future.”
Herrady raised an eyebrow, but turned curtly and marched off.
Millie sat down on the tile floor.
“Oh, stand up,” Laudine sighed. “Or sit on a chair.”
“I don’t want to,” Millie whined, laying down now. “It’s soooo hot outside and the floor is so cool.”
“It’s not hot out,” Laudine said, stooping to grab the girl’s arm. “You’re wearing a sweater.”
“Yeah, but it’s also hot,” Millie grumbled, wrenching her arm away. “Leave me alone.”
“Millie.”
“Lardy.”
Laudine snarled, leaning down to grab at her again, but Millie twisted away, wiggling, wormlike, on the floor, her shoes squeaking maddeningly on the floor. Laudine let out an irritated cry, and Millie laughed, leading her on a chase around the floor, Laudine stooping and swinging her arms like some sort of ape, trying to catch the girl, only to be closely evaded.
Finally, Laudine’s temper snapped, and she pulled out her staff.
“Woah, Lady, chill.”
She whirled, glaring up the stairs at her brothers, who stood on the top landing, watching in amusement.
The siblings certainly looked similar to a certain extent. They had the same warm skin tone, the same black hair and eyes. They were all tall, all with perfect posture. That’s where the similarities ended.
Jeynu wore architect’s robes, simple and warm colored, layers on layers and belts on buckles. His head was shaved short, his goatee neatly trimmed. A smile danced on his face, his eyes sharp and amused, he looked perfectly at home in the calm manor, looked just as at ease as he always did.
Delmonico, however, was larger than his siblings, not only in height, but in weight. His hair, like Laudine’s, was long and wavy, but unlike hers, it flowed free around his shoulders. He wore his kingly robes, all white and red, all trimmed in seal fur and gold. Tattoos of bones plastered every joint, a skull across his face. He was watching the affair with a wide smile, clearly ready to laugh at any moment.
“Lady, you can’t fireball the kid,” Jeynu said, amused. “That’s not okay.”
At that, Delmonico let out a laugh, a raspy, rough chortle.
Millie stood, eyes wide and caught on the king’s face.
“I can see your bones,” She breathed. “That’s crazy.”
“It’s just a tattoo,” Laudine sighed. “It’s not his real bones.”
“It could be real,” Delmonico shrugged. “Who knows.”
While Jeynu and Laudine had soft, sweet voices, and spoke with eloquence and grace, Delmonico almost spat every word, stumbling over the sounds, cutting himself off at the end of every sentence like he meant to say more. His siblings were used to it, as were most of the staff, but that didn’t mean that this rude little child would have the same respect.
And she didn’t.
“You talk weird.”
“You look weird.” Delmonico said, immediately.
Her jaw dropped, and then, to Laudine’s surprise, she lit up. “Fuck yeah, you’re cool, big man! What’s your name?”
“Delmonico,” Delmonico announced proudly. “I happen to be King of this fine Kingdom.”
“What kingdom is that, England?”
“Triacrona.”
“I told you that,” Laudine muttered. “Like an hour ago.”
“I forgot,” She shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t know where that is.”
“Are you sure you’re from a different time?” Jeynu asked. “Or a different world?”
“I don’t know. You guys have magic, right? We don’t.”
“You don’t have magic?” Jeynu asked, incredulously. “How does that work?”
“I don’t know, it just does,” Millie said defensively. “How the hell should I know?”
“How old are you, anyways?” Laudine asked.
“12.”
“And how’d you get here with no magic?”
“I don’t know, me and my little brother were walking home, and then suddenly I was here.”
“Hm,” Laudine gave her brothers a look. “Right.”
“I believe you,” Delmonico said, not very helpfully. “I bet you really are from another world.”
“Del,” Laudine said, wearily. “Don’t-”
“No, I do too,” Jeynu said. “I remember hearing something about this happening before. Supposedly we all descended from people who fell through cracks in the other world and ended up here, or something.”
“I’ve literally never heard of that,” Laudine said, thinly. “Is this another fae tale?”
“No, this one came from a book.”
“And was the book written by a fae?”
Jeynu stared at her.
“Right.”
“So… you guys are going to help me find my brother and get home, right?”
“Right,” Jeynu smiled. “And until then, you can live here, with us, as an official ward of the state.”
Laudine was starting to think it was very much a mistake on her part to bring the girl here.
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coffeedrgn87 · 5 months
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Hai. I just wanted to say that LPK has ruined me for almost every other BDSM story. Now when I read any, I'm like "Where's the enthusiastic consent? Where are the loving and frequent check-ins with your sub? Where is the scene where you discuss whether this is something both of you want?" And I'm including original stories in the list too. There are very few stories that can satisfy me now. Even when the sex scenes are hot, the lack of a connection between the Dom and sub puts me off. There's a Sterek BDSM fic that kind of lives up to LPK, but that's the only one I've found. You have completely ruined me. I hope you're happy, you ridiculously talented author.
Hi! 💜
Funny you should say this, because this is, in part, how LPK came to life. I wanted kinky reading that really emphasised consent, communication, and negotiation.
And sure, there are some relatively good works out there (now at least) but they generally feature a) a hetero relationship and b) some rich dude who happens to be a Dominant and a submissive gal who wants to try out kink or is in the community (to some degree) but falls head over heels in love with the Dominant which changes the whole dynamic and leads to much unnecessary drama (my personal opinion, also mainly reference original works here…fan works very often do have queer representation).
While there’s nothing wrong with that trope, it doesn’t represent me in any way. I want queerness with my kink, I want munches and shibari and tough conversations, and trust. I want things to reflect reality with a scene going well and emotions changing the dynamic midway.
There are many reasons why LPK is so dear to me, and you mentioned some, the enthusiastic consent, the conversations, but also life getting in the way and finding ways around that, growing together, etc.
I grew a lot with the writing of the story which I absolutely expected I would (or at least hoped for). Never in a million years did I think so many people would read it, comment on it, favourite it, etc. I’m not in any community where people might talk about different works so I don’t see it happening…which is why I, for the most part, still have imposter syndrome about it all, but I think that can be said for all my other writing too, not that any of it comes close to where LPK went.
I have this recurring dream of wanting to turn it into an original work, but I’m daunted by my own word count thus far and the amount of rework required so I keep thinking that the perfect idea will eventually come along.
I honestly cannot thank you enough for you very enthusiastic support and your kind message. It means the world to me, and I know I say this to everybody who takes the time to tell me what LPK means to them, but it’s not some spiel, I truly mean it. The verse has done something special to me, even though I don’t want to believe it. I fear believing it may lead to me getting a big head about it all, even though I’m certain that I could never…ugh, look at this, not only do I digress but I’m also rambling.
I won’t lie, there’ve been many times I’ve wanted to take the verse down, and not just it but all my works, as I don’t especially feel connected to the fandom world, but then I remember that I primarily write for myself and anyone who would like to come along for the ride is more than welcome. As for the rest, I try my best not to care and if I do, I run to yell at my therapist.
Okay, this response is getting out of hand. And it’s also starting to sound a lot like a journal entry rather than a response to a very lovely and sweet ask. Let me close with this: I hope to have an update for book 3 soon. I’ve a lovely idea floating about my head…
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xxluckystrike · 2 months
Text
and they found themselves home for the moment. ↪ a human as you are prequel oneshot
taglist: @pastexistence, @grumpy-liebgott, @noneedtoamputate, @ronald-speirs, @cyberdecayed, and @blueberry-ovaries
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Dear Paul,
Do you remember that afternoon in the woods? That time we wandered off from the church and found the abandoned house? It was nice to see you smile, even if we were breaking the rules.
Do you still think about it? All the time, now, I find myself reliving that moment- the two of us just living life together. I miss it, I really do.
I wish this war would be over so we can go back again. Without anyone to take care of it, the house is probably just as aged as when we first found it.
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“How much longer are they gonna be in there?” Paul groaned, flopping onto the grass dramatically. His words were heard by no one but his sister and the tombstones.
Margaret flipped a page in her book, trying to shut her brother’s constant complaints out of her mind and focus on the story again. Unfortunately, this book had a lot of big words in it, forcing her to read at an extremely slow pace. She’d barely made it two pages in, even in the long amount of time they’d been out here.
Paul’s complaints were valid- she and her brother had been forced out into the graveyard outside the church for at least an hour now, banished her until the funeral going on inside could finish.
“Well, they’ll be in there as long as they need to,” Margaret replied, mimicking the words she had heard the women of the town say so many times before.
“You always say that!” Paul groaned, running a hand through his hair with an air of dramaticism. “Why do they make us sit out here with the dead people until they’re done? Why can’t we go somewhere else?”
“Because that’s what they told us,” Margaret shrugged.
Paul gave her a look.
“Marge, stop being such a downer!” he complained, rolling his eyes. “You always just listened to what they tell us! Can’t we just go out and have some fun?”
“They told us to stay out here,” Marge muttered, biting her lip. “I don’t think he’d want us to leave. Besides, they could be done any minute now.” She paused, briefly, straining her ear to listen to the light piano music coming from the church’s open window. “They’re already on Glorious Things.”
“Marge…” Paul said her name long and drawn out, pushing the book down from her face and giving her his most innocent look. “We won’t be gone for long! We could just go wander around the woods for a little bit!”
“You’re listening to Dieter too much,” Margaret bit her lip, turning away. “Children supposed to obey their mothers and fathers.”
At this, Paul’s expression turned sour, his youthful gaze growing stormier.
“They’re not our parents, Marge.”
“Yes, they are, Paul,” Margaret shot back, her tone hard. “You just don’t act like it.”
Paul pursed her lips, his cheeks puffing up as he tried to figure out something to say, while Margaret turned to lay on her back and played with the dead grass beneath her. She could hear the sounds of the piano inside, its melody drifting out like a hand trying to console the sadness of the people inside. Normally, Margaret would be the one to play, but not this time. They wouldn’t let her.
She flopped back on her belly, watching Paul as he stared into the tree line just behind the church. His body was here, but his mind seemed to be a million miles away, in some fantasy world all his own. She exhaled slowly, her mind made up, and pushed herself up from the ground, standing above him with her hand on her hip.
“Okay,” the girl said, simply.
Paul looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, we can go take a walk in the woods,” Margaret nodded, pursing her lips.
Paul broke into a grin, his eyes lighting up. “Really? Thank you, Margie!”
“You’re welcome,” Margaret replied as Paul practically burst up from the ground, brushing off his trousers and gesturing for her to follow him towards the tree line. Margaret followed behind, her face taking on an almost motherly expression. “But it’s just for a few minutes, okay?” She tugged on his arm, trying to get a nod of confirmation.
“Yeah, okay!” Paul said quickly, before he was back to his fantasies again. “You know, Dieter said that there’s a treehouse around here somewhere where all the kids hang out. Maybe we could find it!”
Margaret tried her best to follow by his side, her skirt brushing against the branches that littered the ground. The forest seemed to shut out most of the light the deeper you went into it. It was as dry as the grass in the graveyard, with the forest seeming to crackle with electricity every time one stepped on it or brushed against its bark.
“Do you have any idea where we’re going, Paul?” Magaret asked, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
“We’re going exploring, Margie,” Paul replied, looking back at her with a wicked grin. “The only thing we know is that we’re going to find something new.”
Margaret laughed, if only to alleviate the tension, but she trusted Paul. She knew that he’d lead her somewhere safe.
They wandered around the woods for a while, chatting idly and laughing about things. Paul tripped on a log. Margaret made a cross out of sticks. They found a scrap of ribbon drifting idly in the breeze. It felt freeing, being able to wander through the woods at your own pace.
Then, they saw light up ahead.
“Whoah, look at that!” Paul exclaimed, a look of wonder on his face. “Maybe this is the edge of the forest!”
Margaret was too distracted by a centipede crawling on the log next to her, bending down to watch its trek along the wood.
Meanwhile, Paul kept walking and soon disappeared into the clearing. Then, his chatter stopped abruptly. Margaret frowned, looking up from the bug on the ground and squinting into the bright light just beyond the trees.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, watching out of the corner of her eye as the centipede crept further along the log, its pace slow but determined.
“I think you gotta come see this,” Paul called back, his voice faint. Margaret shot up so fast that she nearly knocked over the branch by her feet, her body coursing with anxiety.
“Dear God, please don’t let us get hurt,” she whispered under her breath, sending up a prayer to the heavens. She pushed through the hanging branches to stand by her brother’s side, her gaze sweeping over his expression of hesitant awe before moving to the thing he’d been staring at.
A house- or at least what was left of it- was lying in the clearing. It was a small shed, with dried ivy covering its sides and broken windows. Surprisingly, there was no graffiti or human damage to be found. It was just nature that had left its mark in destruction. The ivy had even begun to crawl up the chimney, spreading into the sky. It was so dark, it almost looked like smoke.
Margaret and Paul stared at it, two small figures on the hill.
“What do you think happened?” Margaret asked, turning to him. Her brother’s eyes stayed on the abandoned house.
“I don’t know, but whatever did must have been crazy,” he grinned, no doubt imagining the possibilities of all that could have enfolded her. He started down the hill, nearly tripping as it dropped a lot stepper than he anticipated, leaving Margaret above him.
“Where are you going?” she asked, tilting her head.
“To check it out, of course!” Paul yelled over his shoulder, stepping onto the porch of the shed and causing a loud creak to go around the clearing. Margaret narrowed her eyes.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea!”
“You don’t have to come!” Paul shrugged, already halfway into the door. “I can go in by myself!”
He knew he’d strike a chord with that. Margaret scowled, but started down the hill, trying to steady herself as she went down the steep decline and stood before the house, staring into its yawning depths. She didn’t know what she’d find inside, and that scared her.
She sucked in a breath, steadying her resolve as she stepped onto the porch and pushed into the house.
Cautiously, Margaret moved further in, standing by Paul’s side and glancing around the room, her gaze landing on piles of dust on top of the empty floorboards. Sunlight leaked down through the rafters and onto them, illuminating the dust that swirled above them like stars.
There was a hole in the room that acted like a skylight, sending dappled light onto the middle of the floor below it. Margaret blinked, glancing up at it and trying to see through the ivy and into the sky above. The building smelled like smoke.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Paul asked, his voice echoing around the space.
Margaret bit her lip.
“It’s sad,” she replied faintly.
“What is?”
“That it got left like this. Why didn’t God do something?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t like not knowing,” Margaret murmured, watching as a spider crawled along the floorboard by her feet.
“Well, you could always make something up,” Paul turned to look at her, an eager sparkle in his eyes. “You know what I like to do when we’re in church?”
“Not pay attention,” Margaret shot back a wry smile of her own.
“Hey!” Paul complained, giving a dry laugh. “I pay attention when you play piano! But anyway, I like looking at the people around me and trying to come up with a story.” He glanced around the room, looking for something, before breaking into a grin. “See, I think something burned down here.” He traced his hand along the wall, carving long trails in the dust. Margaret watched him work with quiet concentration. “Their lantern fell here- see the blackened wood?- and then they all had to run to get out. When they came back, they decided that it wasn’t safe to live here anymore, and they left.”
“Who’s they?” Margaret asked curiously.
“Hmm… I’d imagine it was a married couple,” Paul began, tilting his head as he tried to piece together the lives that had been lived here. “They built this house by hand, working day after day while sleeping at the inn in town. Every night they dreamed of the place they’d call home one day.”
He trailed off, his smile replied by one that felt more forced. He tried to swallow back the tide of emotions as he turned back to his sister.
“You’re quite the storyteller, Paul.” Margaret gave him a soft smile, pride filling her gaze.
Paul beamed, grinning brightly. Margaret exhaled slowly, glancing at the door that still lay open and into the clearing.
“We should probably get going,” she said, moving towards it and gesturing for Paul to follow.
Paul glanced briefly up through the hole in the roof again, nodding slowly.
“Yeah,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly. “We probably should.”
He turned away from the house, waiting for Margaret to leave the door open, as the two of them made their way up the hill again, leaving the house and all its made-up stories behind.
“We should come back,” Paul said eventually, his voice barely a whisper above the absence of the forest.
Margaret gave no reply.
They walked for a while, their shoes crunching against the leaves underfoot and listening to the branches above. Margaret had to admit, there was a kind of peace to be found amongst the leaves. She wondered what the fathers had found here that they didn’t want their children to see.
“Paul, I was thinking…” she began, biting her lip but unable to meet his gaze, “I do think I would like to go back. This place is pretty neat and all, and I know that we’re not supposed to, but I like exploring.” She fidgeted anxiously with the button of her dress but felt little regret.
It wouldn’t be until many years later that she didn’t like exploring for the sake of the woods- she’d realize she liked the feeling of being alone with someone she cared about. It had made her feel seen.
Paul remained silent.
Margaret trailed to a stop, glancing back to where she expected to find Paul behind her, but she saw nothing but the emptiness of trees. Her smile dropped as she jerked her gaze around, trying to find her brother but seeing nothing but tree after tree after tree.
“Paul?” she called into the void. “Paul! If you’re about to jump out and scare me, this isn’t funny!”
She was met with no reply. Behind her, the sound of chatter was slowly filling the air. The funeralgoers had finally been let out into the sun. In front of her lay nothing but silence and the one person who she couldn’t live without.
But she was too scared to go after him. Her brother was now lost somewhere, back in the woods, and Margaret couldn’t do anything about it.
She turned and ran back to the safety of the church, desperately seeking the arms of God.
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After I got back, Father Klaus yelled at me.
He took me into the back room, and he told me how disappointed God was in me, letting you get lost like that. How reckless it was when you didn’t listen to what the elders told you.
I was sad about it, but I got over it soon enough.
He didn’t understand that God is always looking out for you. That was true when we found you a few days later back at the house, and it’s still true now. He’ll guide us home, Paul. I promise. We just have to keep praying.
Your sister,
Margie
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liaromancewriter · 2 years
Text
What If? (Epilogue)
Premise: If Ethan and Cassie had met in college, would they still be inevitable?
Book: Open Heart (College AU) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,550
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
A/N: Thank you to everyone for coming along on this rollercoaster of a ride with me. I’m so glad I finally worked up the nerve to write this AU. 
Submission for @choicesmonthlychallengejune2022 Day 6 prompt “Reunited”
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There were days when Cassie Valentine felt like giving up. And others when she was fired up to beat physical therapy’s butt.
Today though, today she was neither. She couldn’t work up the enthusiasm for the PT exercises, but she kept going through the motions because otherwise she might never get up again.
It had been three months since her accident and two since her ACL reconstructive surgery. The hardest part of the whole experience had been a sense of loss she couldn’t shake.
While the doctor hadn’t come right out and said it, she knew from the cautious words he spoke that ballet was no longer an option. Her knee might never support the type of hyperextension required for professional dancing.
Cassie consoled herself that getting a spot in a professional dance company had been a pipe dream. She was good, but not great enough to advance past the corps. And really, Valentines worked in the family business. So, it had all been moot. But it didn’t lessen the hurt.
“You’re a million miles away. It won’t work unless you focus.”
She looked over her shoulder to see Ethan standing at a respectful distance, watching her with concern in his eyes.
Here was someone else she couldn’t figure out.
He’d given up his summer internship at a community clinic to be there for her. He’d started showing up at her PT sessions, asking questions of her therapist, learning the exercises, giving her silent and not-so-silent encouragement from the sidelines.
Ever since that morning at the hospital, he’d done as she asked. Taking it a day at a time;  never pushing or demanding.
She hated this version of Ethan. The one who never held her hand so that sparks flew when they touched.
Cassie wanted the arrogant boy—man—from the bookstore that had refused to back down. The one that had kissed her in a coffee shop in front of everyone and complained when she hogged all the popcorn.
She wanted the Ethan she’d fallen in love with; not this silent spectator who never made a wrong step and was almost clinical in his approach, like she was a patient.
Cassie didn’t even know why he was here since he was clearly not interested in her anymore in a romantic sense.
“I’m done,” she declared, gingerly disembarking from the stationary bike.
“You still have twenty minutes left,” he frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Don’t care,” she said dismissively, brushing past him to head to the women’s locker rooms as tears pricked her eyes. She was so done.
Cassie sat down on a bench, shoulders dejected, tears streaming down her face when the door behind her flew open and Ethan rushed in.
“You can’t be in here,” she objected, but he wasn’t listening as he advanced towards her.
“What is wrong with you?” he shouted, frustration eking through. “You can’t just quit PT if we’re to get you ready for the company’s next season. I know it’s taking time, but that’s how it works with an ACL injury!”
Cassie was surprised at the passion in his voice and the determination on his face. The placid Ethan of the last few months was nowhere to be found. She let him rail at her a few minutes long, recognizing that he was like a volcano that was finally ready to erupt.
“You and I both know that my days of dancing ballet are over,” she said quietly when he stopped pacing. “I have accepted it and you should too.”
“There’s still a chance,” he said, calmer now, his tone more rational. “I’ve read some promising case studies in the medical journals, spoken to a few experts…”
“You’ve been reading medical cases and talking to doctors about my injury?” she asked, unable to hide her shock.
“What?” he said absently at the interruption before continuing. “I mean, yes, it won’t be easy or quick; could take a few years to reach that level of athleticism again and there are no guarantees in medicine, but I believe you can do it.”
Cassie saw the resolve on his handsome face, heard the utmost belief in his voice, and she knew he wasn’t indifferent. Without another thought, she reached for his hand, feeling the spark as their fingers entwined of their own accord.
She tugged his head down, brushing her lips against his, lightly at first and then demanding. Tracing the seam of his closed lips with her tongue, she cajoled him to let her in and then he took over.
He placed his hands on her ass, lifting her up and she wrapped her legs around his thighs, confident he wouldn’t let her fall. His body pressing her back against the wall was so familiar, feeling him quicken against her lower belly as the kiss went to fiery to explosive.
His mouth devoured hers, tongues dueling, months of separation making them greedy. Her hands were everywhere, tracing his muscles, clutching his sides, burning up with want. He gave as he good as he got until she wanted to forget where they were and beg him to take her.
A sharp, piercing sound broke through the fog of lust surrounding them. He released her lips, his forehead against hers as they both struggled to catch their breath. He reached for the ringing phone in his pocket and dismissed the sound.
His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, peered into hers and she could no longer hold back the words.
“I love you, Ethan.”
He went still and then moved back, no longer holding her up against the wall and her feet slowly drifted to the floor. Disappointed, she started to turn away, but he stopped her. His hands framed her face and his expression was solemn as he gazed intently into her eyes.
“I love you, Cassie. Forever.”
And then he smiled, slow and soft, and she knew they would be alright.
Eight years later…
“The two of you are nuts,” said Max, not for the first time since she’d called him two days ago and asked him to come to Boston. “Mom’s going to flip when she finds out you eloped and didn’t tell her.”
“I know, but you know how hard it’s been,” said Cassie, stroking the beautiful bouquet of daisies that brought a pop of color to the dull offices in city hall. “We hated being apart while Ethan completed his residency at Edenbrook and I finished my doctorate coursework. When we found out I got a spot on the hospital’s behavioral psychology team to complete my licensing requirements, we knew we didn’t want to wait any longer. After all, why delay things when we’re…
“Inevitable,” finished Max flippantly, rolling his eyes at the syrupy sentiment and making her laugh.
As much as he teased her, he couldn’t deny the two of them were completely devoted to each other. It had taken Max time to come to terms with Ethan, but the man was completely gone over his sister so it had been hard to not befriend him. And as long as Cassie was happy, Max was too.
“There’s Ethan,” he said and they both turned to watch him walking towards them.
His head was cocked as he listened to whatever his companion, a petite young woman wearing a wine-colored dress and carrying a bakery box in her hands, was saying
“Sienna!” cried Cassie, rushing forward to throw her arms around the other woman before stepping back to slip her arm around Ethan’s back. “I’m so glad Ethan was able to find you in time.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” beamed Sienna. “I even baked you a cake.”
She lifted the cover of the bakery box to show Cassie and Ethan the small wedding cake, smiling shyly when they both showered her with praise.
“Oh, where are my manners,” said Cassie, turning sideways to place her hand on Max’s shoulder.
“Sienna, this is my twin brother Max. Max, meet Dr. Sienna Trinh, pediatrics resident extraordinaire at Edenbrook,” she said. “Remember when I came to the hospital for my interview and got hopelessly lost? Well, I was afraid they would find my ghost wandering the halls for eternity and then Sienna appeared like an angel and rescued me. I’m so glad we’ll get to work in the same place. We’re practically besties already.”
Max smiled, amused at his sister’s enthusiasm about her and Sienna’s new friendship than the story of how they met. He nodded his head at Sienna in greeting and wondered at the vague disquiet he felt as he met her soft gaze.
He forgot all about that a short while later when he watched Cassie and Ethan face each other and recite their vows in front of the justice of peace, promising to have and to hold each other forever. As they exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife, they had eyes only for each other.
Max glanced to his side and his eyes met Sienna’s radiant ones, her smile watery as she took the tissue he handed her to wipe away her tears.
And then he felt it again. Something he couldn’t describe…yet. He only knew that his life had fundamentally shifted and it had something to do with one Sienna Trinh.
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All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect  @trappedinfanfiction  @bex-la-get  @mysticalgalaxysstuff  @genevievemd  @choicesaddict5  @jerzwriter  @rookiemartin  @schnitzelbutterfingers  @vi-writes-stuff  @coffeeheartaddict2  @quixoticdreamer16  @dorisz  @zahrachoices  @lucy-268  @a-crepusculo  @jamespotterthefirst  @ofmischiefandmedicine  @headoverheelsforramsey  @takemyopenheart  @gryffindordaughterofathena  @queencarb  @crazy-loca-blog  @natureblooms24 
Ethan & Cassie Fics & Edits only: @custaroonie  @lady-calypso 
@choicesficwriterscreations​ @openheartfanfics
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thinfatfit · 1 year
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omg no i pretty much cut myself off from family too but when I was 23, i can't imagine bring an orphan obvious there must be so much pain there and it's very different. But I think even tiny things like I hung out with a friend and her mum bought her lunch. or like family giving leftovers. Having someone to drjve you somewhere. Being alone somewhere late at night and not having a 'last resort' for someone to call. Every doctors office asks for an emergency contact and I put down a friend I have i asked her and she let me luckily. But it still feels very tentative. Also having ppl who've known u since birth and feeling safe abd stable with them and having them know your quirks and yoru personality. Having little things in common and missing those moments together. Jesus like the stability of a job or having choices and options even in a small way. even having family connections that can help you even if its just a friend of a friend knowing someone at a place that's hiring. Or having someone older and experienced who will vouch for you. Having ppl who can help with moving who can even things like. Giving you old furniture or random stuff if ur like 'Damn I don't have x thibg.'and theyre likd 'Oh we have an old... sewing machibe/some old plates/an old wardrobe they can give you. Like... or even not having room for smth and veing able to leave it with them. Like u gotta be able to take care of everything you own. And not having anyone or anything to fall back on. It's terrifying. Even stuff like family history and information bc u wanna know what u were like as a kid. Or to get a diagnosis. Or some kids book or old thing u wanna remember. And u can't just go ask them. All of that memory and information is just. Gone or inaccessible to you. And it's really lonely. ❤❤❤
Yes I 100% with every single thing you said yes yes yes and we both know there are a million other things too. One thing I thought of reading this is not being able to have someone to co-sign a loan with you or sign as your guarantor if you want to rent an apartment and you don’t earn whatever they’re random minimum is (even though you earn enough to more than pay rent).
I’m really sorry you’re experiencing this. It sucks and it is super lonely agreed. And just like….. no one understands. And yes get triggered when my friends say or I see small things like they have food at their house from their mom. Also ya just constantly have to justify and explain why life is so hard without a family. Also people who have families but are like I’m pretty self sufficient and brag about how independent they are and I’m like you get all these perks you don’t realize. Lol one time this girl was saying that if her kids are eighteen when she dies she won’t leave them any money even if she has it because she was self sufficient at that age (she wasn’t lol). I hate all those people who are like you don’t need a family past 18 and I’m like tell me you have a family without telling me you have a family.
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abedsnerdir · 2 years
Text
2x06 “Spin”
- Oh great another one of those “is this athlete on performance-enhancing drugs?” episodes 
-thanks I hate it
- the scott foley episode was baseball whereas this one is cycling. both super boring sports to watch!
- oh great, they’re doing the fake-out with the kid, but we know who this is really about (house. it’s always about house)
- house is yawning because sports episodes are always boring
- dominoes at the office! michael scott energy
- have I even seen this episode before? 
- Stacy is here already. the things I do for 5 (five) notes
- taraji p. henson? WITH Taraji P. Henson AND some guy I’ve never heard of. She should’ve gotten an AND
- oh right I have seen it she’s the manager
- Cuddy has saved House and us from this Stacy interaction
-Yes please, Cuddy, fire Stacy
- Steroids! Why is this such a motif
- Yes, that’s what I do when I watch House; expect a different result! Maybe NEXT TIME he won’t relapse
- My dog, having just drunk water, shook herself and sprinkled beard water all over my keyboard. Acknowledgements to everyone that helps with the process of making these
- Is this because of the Lance Armstrong thing? Like is this a direct diss? What year was that
- Oh so the spin on the narrative is that he fully admits to doing shady things to enhance his performance! including sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber and... blood transfusions? It’s therapeutic doping
- “I do what I have to do to kick ass” how girlboss of him - and cue to House taking Vicodin
- imagine if he did doping for a charity event though. petty but also you would have to be impressed
-Air is keeping him from breathing... that’s a nice metaphor for smtg
- “cycling will be more popular than NASCAR” I don’t know exactly what nascar is... is it like formula 1? we’ll never know or care
- this is when we find out cameron never went to med school because she’s against performance-enhancing drugs (eg caffeine)
- foreman is right, people who can throw balls should not make loads of money. on the other hand, as a meritocracy stan he should not be talking about his uncle who can throw a ball really well but never got a deal. not on his consistency game
- It could be worse, cameron. He could be making millions out of arms-dealing or war-mongering or fracking
- chase can play both sides of the conversation with house, indicating he knows what house is going to say, indicating he can think like house, indicating he was always house’s successor. In this essay I will
- There’s no doping in medicine! 
- Lays potato chips product placement
- Wilson having impure thoughts
-I just thought Stacy was pushing the patient around in a wheelchair and I was so confused, but it’s actually her husband! I don’t remember anyone’s face
- blah blah blah 
- is this when house invades stacy’s therapist’s office? I am in no mood for this
- oh he’s gonna invade the husband’s group therapy
- the only highlight is taraji p. henson
- proto-girlboss
- why is chase the only one who works? like ok foreman did one procedure, but cameron just sits there and rants about the patient not living the model life
- oh the patient’s drooling? Over Chase? 
- ohmygod house made the same joke. I made the same joke as house. Great minds think alike. 
- This is just a House Md Trope festival. Schroedinger’s Steroids aren’t enough, we MUST have a side of “Did Chase screw up?” and he didn’t because whenever he does we have a whole episode about it!
- Group therapy sesh... MARK: “When am I gonna be done?” 3 to 5 episodes. When you both leave and out me out of my misery. 
- What you know is that I have a bum leg. What you don’t know is that I’m upset about it. 
- That could be the synopsis for the first book they cover on House’s book club
- wHAT WOULD be on House’s book club? Wrong Answers only
- the most unrealistic thing about this show is how we never see him read or study (unless it’s that Indian medical journal) but Gregory here still knows every single cultural reference and general knowledge quiz answer. Where has he learned that?  his soap?!
- Cameron once more showing how little she understands house, saying he takes vicodin so he can... help people. HOUSE
- Yes, Foreman, roast her. She hasn’t been roasted enough this season. Every season the roast counter zeroes out
 - omg this recycled house and mark fight... she left house because he became disabled and now she’s gonna leave you because you also became disabled. 
- Yes you SHOULD ban drugs that would make ppl live 20 years longer. Because only rich, evil people would be able to afford it. Is that what Henry Kissinger is on? Oh here’s one for the book club: “Man and Superman”
- Everything about this patients labs is normal when it should be better, so... Maybe he is sick and he’s treating his disease with the doping
- “Can’t slide anything by you”, House to Chase after he gives him the answer
- Cuddy talking on the phone to a dating site about Catfishing? Did ballroom dance lovers dot com trick her
- fanfic where house catfishes cuddy and tries to convince her to give dr. house fewer clinic hours, then calls her out for being absolutely not herself when trying to impress strangers online when she is much more impressive as herself
- sorry, this ep is boring me
- Taraji P. Henson trying to bribe Cuddy
- it’s working
- Cameron is like a YA author reading a literary book and being like “but what message does it send to young girls?”
- the patient had to look up the word “worship”??? He should’ve stayed at school. Which he might have if running fast didn’t make you more money than knowing actual information
- the man is like “what should I say to my fans? that I’m just some guy that shouldn’t be worshipped?” but that’s exactly how House handled Cameron and she still worships him! 
- but ____ did __ _chase ________scrEW UP?!_! Again, check again in 2 to 4 episodes
- clinic patient who thinks he got diarrhea from quitting smoking
- stacy just interrupted the consult to yell at house TWICE
- cuddy SHOULD fire her
- AND PEOPLE CALL HOUSE UNPROFESSIONAL
- actually he did jump off a balcony BECAUSE of cuddy. but that’s not canon because of the Marin Hinkle canon deviation. if you know, you know
- Taraji P. Henson is the only person who cares about this man
- Patient can’t do cursive. “Did J do that to myselB?” Can’t do cursive; doesn’t know what “worship” means. This is who Jameela Jamil is worried about reading your mean tweets about lea michele
- the references in these rewatch posts will date them but idc
- Cameron is mad that the patient is breaking arbitrary rules so SHE is breaking doctor-patient confidentiality, a non-arbitrary rule. LOGIC
- Oh Wilson IS having impure thoughts. And actions. Wilson is still married
- Chase did not screw up. GASP. It’s cancer
-  HOUSE “How am I supposed to practice Medicine like this?”
CUDDY: Responsibly
HOUSE: YOU KNOW I CAN’T DO THAT!
- You’re doing better than Cameron at least
- Taraji P. Henson just got fired for secretly giving the guy steroids, now he has NO ONE who cares. Only people who worship him. From afar. It’s like The Great Gatsby. Not on House’s book club, too basic. 
- Are they implying Lance Armstrong lied about cancer? 
- why is foreman reading Forbes? that also wouldn’t be on House book club. Like I know you believe in meritocracy but this is too much
- oh so it WASN’T taraji’s fault. I thought it was! did not remember the episode correctly
- Cameron’s reason for the diagnosis was poetc justice
- Wilson, ya big cheetah
- This is actually gonna end well for everyone BUT stacy and her husband, who can fuck off
- foreman is smiling!  clocking that
- HE WAS TREATING IT WITH THE DOPING! OH MY GOD I GOT IT BEFORE THEY DID! IDIOTS! 
- when he stopped doing it for the charity race, the disease got worse! so he SHOULD have been extra petty
- feels good, feels triumphant 
- no poetic justice for you, cameron
- justice for Taraji
- House is God and that’s how he heals people. then makes them fall
- Oh, momentary poetic justice! as long as cameron isn’t there to see it
- you’re sorry? Because I deserve an apology
- the case itself WOULD’VE been interesting if we hadn’t already done a doping episode
- also the diagnosis was far too easy because I remembered NOTHING about this episode (100% thought taraji was the culprit) and I guessed it
- spelling out the love triangle... 
- cameron story time... is this better or worse than stacy scenes? oh look wilson has a pizza mark on his armpit. gonna focus on that
- who is the most unprofessional this episode? this is my ranking
         1. CAMERON, for almost breaking doctor/patient confidentiality
          2. STACY for storming into a consult to yell at house about personal business
          3. WILSON for the armpits
- Oh yes! Lew the janitor! This is the start of a beautiful friendship! Lew the janitor aka Blew the janitor
- Montage with Cameron and Wilson doing assigned reading for House’s book club
- House stealing Stacy’s therapist’s notes. Blah blah blah bye
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ofwannabees · 2 years
Note
🍸 👅  😡 😢💀
𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎 !
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send  🍸 for  a  tipsy AOL message  from  my  muse !
( 𝟐:𝟒𝟗 𝒂𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: it’s so stupid. i was ar this party, right?? ( 𝟐:𝟒𝟗 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: everyone was liek having such a good tine i felt so insivible
( 𝟐:𝟓𝟏 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i kept looking for yu ( 𝟐:𝟓𝟏 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: li ke you were just hidin
( 𝟐:𝟓𝟓 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i  wish you had been there tonight. you always made me feel less invisib;e.
send  👅  for  a  v  flirty  AOL message from  my  muse !
( 𝟑:𝟐𝟒 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: “whenever you're going around thinking things can’t get any worse i just want you to remember that you make one persons day, in a million different ways, all the time okay?” ( 𝟑:𝟐𝟒 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: do you remember when you wrote that to me, noah?
( 𝟑:𝟐𝟓 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: you always have such a way with words ( 𝟑:𝟐𝟓 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i still read your letters all the time ( 𝟑:𝟐𝟓 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: keep them by my bed like that book you were talking about
( 𝟑:𝟐𝟖 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i don’t know if anyone else’s words will ever make me feel as good about myself as yours do
( 𝟑:𝟑𝟒 𝒑𝒎 , 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: what if no one else’s words ever make me feel as good about myself as yours do?
send  😡  for  a supes mad  AOL message from  my  muse !
( 𝟖:𝟐𝟖 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: stop trying to be my friend because we both know that’s just some stupid cop out ( 𝟖:𝟐𝟖 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i don’t want to talk to you. i don’t care if you say you’re here for me cuz you proved you won’t actually be when i need it ( 𝟖:𝟐𝟖 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i’m way too hot to be the second option you don’t burn the bridge with just in case it doesn’t work out with the one you blew me off for!!
send  😢  for  a  v sad  AOL message from  my  muse !
( 𝟏:𝟎𝟖 𝒂𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: what was it that made you lose interest?
( 𝟏:𝟎𝟗 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: you have rory and you seem happy so don’t be an ass and let me keep sabotaging myself ( 𝟏:𝟎𝟗 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: think of it as constructive criticism because i can fix it
( 𝟏:𝟏𝟓 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: it’s so stupid i used to tell myself you were just trying to use me to not be such a outsider when i was trying to not get attached to you ( 𝟏:𝟏𝟓 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i did it to plenty of people so it’s not like a totally far fetched idea
( 𝟏:𝟏𝟕 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i know audri & z only think i’m upset bc you’re not showering me in attention and i’ll never correct them ( 𝟏:𝟏𝟕 𝒂𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: but i think it’s because i can’t say that when you haven’t just cycled onto some other pretty popular blonde
send  💀  for  a  last  AOL message from  my  muse !
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟑 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: idk if youre gonna understand this bc you like have a heart and all that jazz but it was so much easier to do this last time ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟑 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: yknow when she who shall not be named was actually just some psycho theater nerd
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟒 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: because i like ?? idk didn’t care about most of them ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟒 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: it sounds bad but they’d say the same about me so whatever. i’m not like sad about that
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟔 𝒑𝒎 , 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: idk feels a little bit like a rip off to be dying for a bunch of people that tolerate me at best ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟔 𝒑𝒎 )  𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: what i’m trying to say is that the thought of losing you was never easy because you’re someone i care about more than anything
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟕 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: we’ve done this so many times it feels stupid sending “don’t want to die without saying this” messages but libby is making this plan and i totally don’t trust her ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟕 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i always knew you were going to be my hardest goodbye
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟎 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: thanks for like treating me like a person ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟎 𝒑𝒎  , 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: and liking me when no else did ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟎 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: and liking me before anyone else  ( 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟎 𝒑𝒎 , 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: and not stopping when you got to know me
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟏 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: i guess i owed you a few more thanks than i thought so i’m gonna stop before i die of embarrassment instead
( 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟑 𝒑𝒎 ) 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚎: just... thanks for being one of the best friends i’ve ever had
2 notes · View notes
Note
ACOB headcanon:
This is for the anon that was concerned that the reds are leaning more blue. In my headcanon, the reds aren’t fighting specifically for the blue as a whole
Again, these are just ideas so you don’t have to like or agree with them all
• Daemon: just wants to cause chaos & take his revenge on Qyle & Qoren for what happened to Aemond and then he ends up being dragged into a conflict with Harwin & House Strong
• Alicent: wants nothing to do with anything and is just trying to look after everyone especially her younger kids. She tries to her best to keep her loved ones from escalating things & getting involved but ultimately fails
• Maegor: personally I think he’d be the reason people consider the reds to be neutral as he’s Daemon’s heir & eldest son. I don’t think Maegor would fight at all. He grew up on the Stepstones and watched how it transformed over the years. I think the first few years of his life were incredibly scary and violent due to the constant attacks & dangers the Stepstones faced. Even though it’s been years & things have improved (especially with the help of his stepmother), he knows that the Stepstones are still developing & whatever resources they have won’t last long against such old & wealthy & established houses like the Velaryons, Martells, etc. He’s also incredibly protective of Ceryse & presumably their children and I don’t think he’d want to risk their safety or their inheritance by dying in battle. Growing up, he overheard Alicent talking about the religious abuse she suffered but he probably overhead how after the death of her husband she was forced to remarry against her will & seperated from her children. He’d never in a million years want the same thing for Ceryse. In the character description it says Maegor is the most martial of Daemon’s son. So my headcanon is that Maegor, thinking ahead and realizing all the things that can go wrong in the war, doesn’t fight for any faction but instead stays at the Stepstones & raises the defenses & fortifies it the best he can. I got this idea from canon where the Iron Born take advantage of the war to raid the Westerlands. There’s always this fear of the Iron Born coming back to raid & I think Maegor and others in the Stepstones would have that same fear but of the Triarchy coming back to take the lands
• Saera: wholeheartedly supports her husband, Lucerys, who, as the heir to House Velaryon, obviously backs the Laena’s factions especially because his aunt Laena looked out for him a lot growing up after his father died & his mother remarried. Saera’s actually really upset when she asks Maegor to ally with them and he refuses because he is her only full sibling
• Elaena: initially agrees with Alicent & Maegor to not get involved but switches to the Blue faction after Viserys dies & she marries and has a son with the claimant for the blue faction, Aegon
• Ceryse: supports her husband & runs the day to day household duties of the Stepstones with her mother while Maegor is constantly checking on the islands perimeter & defenses & training of the soldiers on the island. She spends lots of time with her young children. Given her great intelligence, she also reads more and more books about historical battles & helps Maegor devise battle strategies and tactics.
• Viserys & Aemond: both pretend they don’t care at all about the faction but they’re both high-key stressed. They love their half siblings (Lucerys, Rhaena, & Joffrey). However, Viserys was pretty good friends with his cousin Aliandra growing up and secretly kept in contact with her after the eye incident. Aemond loves Aemma and doesn’t want her to stress out about him hurting her family especially now that she’s pregnant. Personally headcanon that Aemond is less bitter about his eye bc he has lots of loving familial support and he got a happy marriage & Vhagar out of it. (Side note, I know the way the eye scene and fight was portrayed in the show was incredibly tense and everything went down quickly but I still think it’s absolutely wild that the Velaryon/Strong boys didn’t even have to apologize for half-blinding him). They both initially agree to just chill out in the Stepstones but both sons feel obligated to go help their dad when they hear about his ongoing battle with House Strong
• Helaena: was completely caught off guard by the news that the war was starting despite her visions bc she’s been living happily and peacefully with Daeron in Oldtown for years completely oblivious to the growing tensions. Daeron goes to help his family but she decides to remain in Oldtown bc 1) she’s beloved by the people of Oldtown & her Hightower residents and knows they won’t let any harm come to her and 2) she’s not a fighter/warrior or strategist and she doesn’t care for politics or conflicts so she doesn’t want to get involved.
• Valaena: she’s really young when everything starts so her mother arranges for her to go & stay with her older sister Rhaena in Pentos far away from the conflict
So yeah, compared to other families the reds come off as more neutral. Daemon, Viserys, and Aemond’s main fight is against House Strong not the blues or the blacks. Saera & Elaena are for the blues. With his father and brothers either dead or away fighting, Maegor has to prioritize the Stepstones. Everyone else tries to stay the hell out of it and just look after their own
Honestly yeah the reds are just trying to survive at this point in time so their fights in the war are a lot more personal.
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angl6rizaldo0 · 3 months
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THE UNFORGIVING LOVE BY ANGEL MAE RIZALDO
In a world full of love, there were two friends who had known each other for a long time; they had been friends since they were children. Their names are Amity Harrison and Nathaniel Thompson. They came from a rich family; their family is famous for selling luxury items in the Philippines. They can buy everything they want without worrying about the bills they will pay. Amity is a brat; she spends millions every day; she doesn’t care about her parents; she goes to expensive bars and buys things that she doesn’t really need; all she does is spend money every day. While Nathaniel is a very kind man, a very jolly person, and a soft-hearted man. He helps his parents manage their businesses. Every month, he always donates money and supplies to orphanages. He believes that when you give to others, you are able to receive more than you already have. That’s why he always goes to church to pray because he believes that angels are true and that they are the reason why they are rich. So as he gives back, he helps people too. Their personalities are very different, but they are matched together as friends.
One day Amity call Nathaniel on a phone and Nathaniel answered (on call) “ Hey Nathan lets hangout take a brake first, your papers won’t let you happy, you will just get stress there” Nathaniel answered while his other hand is holding a papers “ Come on Amity, I’m busy here stop disturbing me” Amity feel sad  because she feels disrespected on not saying yes to her, she hate the word “no” the only word she like is “yes”  “Come on Nathan its just for fun” Nathaniel said “No” while shaking his head even Amity can’t see him, Amity let out heavy sighed and Nathaniel heard it.
“Oka-“when Amity is about to speak out Nathaniel already said “ Okay, I’m going with you, where are you?” Amity smile widely that reached her eyes “I’m here at my parents house, can you fetch me here?” and Nathaniel can’t do anything because he already agreed to her and he don’t want to disappoint or to disrespect her. “Yeah, sure wait me there”and the call ended. Sometimes he said no to her but every time that she invites Nathaniel and said no to her she is she who will go him. So Nathaniel is the one whose always adjust to her because he know that he is more matured to her. So Nathaniel drives to Amity’s parents house and it’s very big mansion, he didn’t have a hard time entering their villa because the guards at Amity’s villa already knew him. When we arrived at their house all the guards and butlers are all over the mansion. When Nathaniel enter their house the maids welcomed him with drink, he accepted the drink and sat on the sofa, he ask the maid “ Where is Amity?” the maid look at him “ Ma’am Amity is still taking a bath, she said to me that when you go here  wait for her because she will take long time to prefer for the party“ Nathaniel nodded “okay, thank you” He saw a book in the bookcase, he get one and read it so that he won’t get tired easily. While he was reading he heard some footsteps and he saw Amity’s Father Mr. Rafael Harrison, he stand up and offered his hands to him and Mr. Harrison accepted it. “Good evening Mr. Harrison”Mr. Harrison smiled “ Good evening Nathaniel, what are you doing here? Are you going out with Amity” Nathaniel smiled “Amity invites me to hangout with here” Mr. Harrison laughed “Amity is really spoiled, I said to her that she is not allowed to go out today because of the trouble that she is involved yesterday but I can’t do anything that her life and she don’t listen to me anyway” Nathaniel look down “She always like that”  they both laughed. While they are talking he heard footsteps again and he saw an angelic face of Amity that opposite of her attitude. She run and hug him “I miss you Nathan i haven’t seen you for a while, you always busy with your papers, reading, signing, meeting, are you not getting tired of that?” Nathaniel let go their hands “No, I’m not getting tired of it because i love what i’m going and as business man its normal for us to do them all, right Mr. Harrison” Nathaniel look at Mr. Harrison “ Yeah, its normal for us” they both look at Amity and Amity just rolled her eyes “ Business is not for me” Mr. Harrison and Nathaniel just look at each other and shook their heads. 
They say goodbye to Amity’s Father and go to Nathaniel’s car, Amity don’t bring a car because she is to lazy to drive and she know that when Nathaniel drive she is safe. When they arrived at  the bar, Amity gets one margarita and Nathaniel gets a whisky sour they can smell cigarettes and alcohol around the bar. They kept drinking and now Amity is kind a tipsy and she is now in the dance floor dancing with boys. Nathaniel take Amity away from the dance floor “what-“ drag her out from the bar. Amity is so loud she is complaining about Nathaniel “ Why did you drag me down from the bar, don’t you know that I’m still dancing?!” Nathaniel didn’t talk and focus on the road while shaking his head. She kept on talking and talking until she get tired of it. They arrived at their house and Amity is now sleeping now on her room. “Nathaniel” He about to go down when he heard his name he look back and he saw nothing so he walk again “Nathaniel” he look back again and still no one is still there so he just kept on walking even he heard that someone is calling his name.
On the next day its Sunday and its time to go to church again and pray. He offered hundred thousand pesos to the church and pray for the Angel that always guide him and he also pray for Amity’s health. After that he goes to his favorite realistic Angel statue, this Angel is his favorite because she look like her. He always talk to the Angel about his feelings about Amity. He admire Amity for a long time until now, he don’t see her as his best-friend but she is a special friend that he love. “ You know I’m with her yesterday, we hangout and I saw her dancing with other boys, i get hurt so i drag her out from the bar” “is it right to drag her out from the bar?” He asked the Angel statue “Or do I have a right to do that?” He stared at the Angel for a minute and said “ Your are so angelic”  then he leaves. His father ordered him to go to Amity’s father because they have to sign the contract of shares of their company. Nathaniel goes to Mr. Harrison  company and he didn’t aspect to see Amity there “Amity, what are you doing here?”
While smiling “I just talk to dad, you what are you doing here?” Their eye contact is not breaking “Me and Mr. Harrison have to sign this for our new contract, wait are you going home?” she answered “No, I will eat lunch” Nathaniel asked her “Alone?” She nodded “Lets eat together, wait for me this is just fast we will juat sign this and its done” Amity wait for Nathaniel and after 30 minutes their done. They eat in a fantasy restaurant, while they are eating Amity asked him “Did you know that are company have a big problem now?” He shook his head “We have a big debt to last company that we are shared to, that’s why i’m there cause dad told me that in the morning” she said in a calm voice “ So hows your dad, you, your family? Whats their reaction?” He saw how sad she is right now “My dad is stress right now, thank you that you shared with our company, it’s a big help” Nathaniel smile “Yeah, sure what our friendship for, right” they both smiled and continued to eat.  Nathaniel takes Amity home. On the other day Amity is now on her room resting because later she will go to mall to shop. While Nathaniel is in Church talking to Angel statue about Amity’s problem. Amity is walking in the mall, buying things that she will just stock in her room. She bump into a kid, she gets  angry and push the kid harshly. She look at the kid that laying on the floor “ Why are you standing on my way? Look, I have scratched ” She kicked the kid before she leaves.
She go to Nathaniel company to annoy him and tell him what she interact earlier “Hi Nathaniel” Nathaniel look shock because he didn't know that she was going here “Ow, Hi, What are you doing here?” Amity sat down to the chair in front of Nathaniel “Nothing, I just want to be with you right now” Nathaniel secretly smiled “How are you and your parent’s company?” he look to Amity “I’m not fine and our company is getting worse, I don't know what to do to Nathaniel” She look so stress “Maybe this is your karma because you always spend millions everyday, maybe Angel’s give a punishment” Amity look at Nathaniel with dirty look “Ew, you believed on Angel’s?” He nodded “People who believe in angels are only children because that's what their parents say to them and that's what they hear, its only decoration for churches,  are you a child?” He shook his head “Don’t believe them people just make that up to say they are true and to be praised” Nathaniel just look at her like he is like an Angel that fall into this cruel world “ You know for me I believe in Angel’s because they are the one that gives me everything, they are may savour special that one Angel statue in the church of  San Miguel Church” She just nodded “Whatever you say” and rolled her eyes “ You know, you should believed them, they can help you and your family” she shock her head and lifted her right hand  to sign that he need to stop. They kept on talking until its evening. She is now at their house after Nathaniel take him home. She still don’t believe to Angel’s even Nathaniel is convincing her to talk to Angel.
After one month her dad told her that their company is about to bankrupt if they don’t pay their dept and they are selling some illegal items. Nathaniel do everything just to help her but he can’t because they selling illegal item. So she immediately find her way, she call her all friend but they say that they can’t help her but someone call her and said that he is her friend that in high school . So she meet her friend in restaurant and they talk about the things that can help their company when the meeting is done they say goodbye to each other. She is walking to congested and dark  roads  Manila then someone call her name with baritone voice “ Amity” she get scared but continue walking “Amity”he heard it as if it was close to him, so she walk fast and the voice kept on following him and get near and near to her. Someone grab her arm and encircled his arm to her neck and the other hand  is covering her mouth. She can’t see him because his face is covered with black clout. He took her into a hidden place where people can’t see them then he tie her arm, and take advantage of her while she kept on shouting and crying but no one can hear her. He leave her like he is a dog that after eating he just leave his food nothing.
Nathaniel is in her office and some one knocked “Nathaniel did you heard about the news?!” He said it like he is about to run out of breath. Nathaniel just look at him lethargic, he is his friend Michele “ Hey, did you heard me? I kept on speaking here but you are just staring outside i thought you are listening” he look again to Michele “ What are you saying again?” Michele just sigh “ I said Amity is in the hospital right now because someone rape her while she is walking in a road” Nathaniel just nodded “ What?! That’s just your reaction your best friend got rape, I thought you love her” Michele look at Nathaniel with disbelief “ Michele, I’m busy you already told me what you want, you can leave now” Michele can’t believed to Nathaniel because every time Amity got into a trouble he is always go to her and rest back her but now he didn’t even look shocked or worried about Amity. Nathaniel is punching hard the punching bag he is thinking if he will go to Amity because he feel guilty of what he did but at the end he didn’t go to Amity instead he go to the Angel Statue to ask for a question and guidance. He is now looking of a beautiful Angel statue “ Hi, its been a long time that we didn’t see each other, how are you?” He make a silence “Angel I make a wrong decision, i made the most important person of my life cry in front of me but I didn’t listen to her and continue what I’m doing” one tear falls into his eyes “ I just want to love her and protect her from other people that trying to hurt her to the point that I’m already the one that hurting her. I just do that because I love her so much and I don’t want other man to love her” the tears kept on falling from his eyes it’s like a river that loud and the water is just flowing.
Amity laying in a bed with nasal cannula and dextrose, her body full is of bruises. She is still not walking up its been 3weeks since that incident happened and Amity’s family still don’t now who did that to their daughter. Mrs. Harrison can’t stop crying “Amity wake up mom is here, I’m here daughter mom is waiting for you, I will make sure that person will be in jailed for doing this to you, that person is like a demon” she said it angrily. They still waiting Amity to wake up Nathaniel never visit to Amity, he let him busy in the company and walking to a Angel statue. He always cry to the Angel, saying sorry and asking what do to even he know what do to. Months had past he still the same not visiting Amity, keeping him busy to work.
All people are wearing white and black. There is a large photo with the big name of Amity Harrison. She died because his body could not handle the bruises, wounds and her weak heart. All people are crying and Nathaniel already know the news and still he didn’t go to her funeral until her last stage. He was there since they are a child, he is very protective to her, he always respect her, he never let other people hurt her no one can touch her, he always give flower to her every special day, he never tell her about his feelings about her. For him Amity is an Angel like the statue in San Miguel. He love her very much to the point that he became obsesses to her, he always follower her where every she goes, he put cameras in every corner of her room, he also hired some people to follow her and report it to him, he know everything  about her.
When he found out that Amity was buried already he went to the Angel statue, when he go their the Angel statue is now gone all he see is an old church “ Angel! Angel! Angel!, where are you?!” he shout so loud “ah!” he knelled “Angel, I need you now!” the tears start to fall on her eyes “Where are you?” water dripped on him until it become a rain. He was there crying like the rain. He didn’t feel the raindrops because someone is holding a umbrella while looking confused to him “Iho, anong ginagawa mo rito?” The old man asked “I’m waiting the Angel statue here” man look shock “Toto wala naman naka-tayong Anghel d’yan, simbahan lang ang naka-tayo d’yan at matagal na ito wala nang nag-mimisa rito, saka wag kang maniwala sa mga angel hindi sila totoo gawa-gawa lang sila upang dekorasyon sa simbahan” Nathaniel look so confused “ what? They are not true?” The old man nodded then he leaves.
He thought that he is just hallucinating that there is an Angel Statue there and he became obsess with Angel that he make own story of him and her but the thing there is the Angel that he always to to is Amity Harrison his guardian Angel. When Amity died the Angel statue also disappeared and Angel statue is only visible to his eyes.
He was about to stand up when he feel the cold thing on his neck, he hell down and the last he saw is the old man holding a knife.
“Berto Berto, gumising ka na nga jan, anong oras na naka-higa ka pa rin, ano ka anak mayaman”
Berto wake up because he heard his mom's voice, what is that strange dream? “Ito na po babangon na” He stand up and leave the room. While they are eating Berto ramdomly asked his mother “Nay, naniniwala po ba kayo sa mga Anghel?” his mother answered “Nako, tigilan mo ako sa mga tanong mo na iyan, kumain ka na lang jan at may pasok ka pa” he just continue eating with the question on his mind. Are they really real?
Character: Amity Harrison, Nathaniel Thompson, Mr.& Mrs. Harrison, Michele, kid, Friend, old man, Berto, Mom of Roberto and dad of Nathaniel
Setting: Philippines, San Miguel, mall, church, orphanage, cpmpany, villa, house, Manila, Restaurant and hospital
Point of View:Third person
Literary Devices: Simile, symbolism, personification, and irony
Plot: The boy is obsess with a girl who doesn’t know that the boy has feelings for her, and because of his love for the girl, he does bad things to her. As revenge for the boy, the girl kills him in another body.
Themes: Tragedy
Moral message: The moral message of the story is don’t do things that you will regret someday. Think carefully before you do it, and even when you are a religious person, when the evil tells you the things that you want to do, you will do them because you are more willing to do bad.
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xieyouji-xiegushi · 9 months
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Falling
Since AO3 is still down, I'm going to cross-post some of my fics here directly! Please enjoy whilst we are waiting for AO3 to return :)
Title: Falling Fandom: Heroes (NBC) Rating: T Ship: Petlar Warnings: CNTW/Major Character Death (temporary) Status: Complete, 3807 words Link: AO3 Author: xieyouji Summary: "Peter Petrelli has come unstuck in time." Author's Notes: This is not a heavily ship-focused fic. A few months ago, I read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut for the first time. I was really inspired by the Tralfamadorians and their understanding of time, and I wanted to write a Tralfamadorian novel. Of course, since humans do perceive time as linear, that would be impossible, but I hope I achieved at least a sense of the effect. (This fic will still make sense whether or not you've read Vonnegut!)
Peter Petrelli has come unstuck in time.
Peter Petrelli stands in an alleyway in New York and sees the world explode. He is desperate to stop it from happening. He tells himself he will fix history. He closes his eyes.
It is 2012, and Peter stands in a kitchen in Odessa, Texas. A man cuts up waffles and feeds them to his son. The man looks up.
“Peter? It’s good to see you.”
“Sylar?”
Sylar takes a step back. “My name is Gabriel.”
“It used to be Sylar.”
Gabriel knows this. He understands. Gabriel Gray is Sylar and Sylar is Gabriel Gray. But Peter, he realises, doesn’t know this yet, or at least he doesn’t know that he knows it. Gabriel has met Peter a thousand times, yet Peter believes he has met Gabriel only once. For Peter, this is the first time, but for Gabriel it is the last.
“I need your help,” Peter says. He does not want to ask. He asks anyway. He has no choice.
“I cannot help you.” Gabriel knows he will try.
“I need you to paint the future.”
“I can’t do that.” It is true.
“You can. Use Isaac’s ability.”
“Don’t let Noah see me.”
Peter looks over at the boy, still finishing his waffles. He is a stranger, and yet familiar. He has Sylar’s eyes.
They move into a smaller room. There are books and toys and a child’s easel, surrounded by pots of lead-free paint. Gabriel’s eyes glaze over, and he begins.
Gabriel does not paint the future. Isaac Mendez has never painted the future either. Their paintings are not possibilities or outcomes or events in a chain. They are truths. Gabriel paints what he can see, what has already happened and is happening and always will happen. Isaac has always believed it to be the future, has always been plagued by the need to change it. Isaac is dead at the moment. It is a state in which he cannot truly appreciate his ability. Gabriel can, because Gabriel can see how things work. A watchmaker’s son with the ability to see beyond the passage of time. Gabriel paints Peter a story that he cannot yet comprehend.
He steps back. On the paper, the world explodes, just as it is exploding in the alleyway in New York.
“I have to stop it,” Peter says. Gabriel does not correct him. “Give me your ability.”
“No. There is a Hunger. It will consume you.” Gabriel offers Peter a way out that he knows he does not take.
“I won’t let it.” Peter does not know that he is lying.
Gabriel looks fondly at Peter. Peter is once again surprised, disturbed even, at seeing an expression of kindness, perhaps affection, on Sylar’s face. He doesn’t know who this man is, or what has happened to him to reshape him like this. Gabriel Gray is Sylar, and Sylar is a murderer, a killer who helps nobody and cares for no-one but himself, but the man in front of Peter now shows love and care, is a million miles away from the violence and pain that Peter expects from him. He is Gabriel Gray, the man. He is Sylar, the monster. Both are true.
Gabriel watches Peter’s face carefully. He sees the suspicion and doubt, but it does not hurt him. This Peter does not understand yet. The Peter that he cares for, the Peter that trusts him, is somewhere else, not a part of this moment. This Peter is determined, desperate. This Peter would rather seek help from anywhere else, anyone else. This Gabriel is the only one who can give it to him. The moment is inevitable.
Peter sees the shift in Sylar’s expression as he allows the Hunger to come to the surface, allows Peter to take it. He observes the rage and the need and the sorrow as he is transported back to another version of himself, a version that Peter knows. Gabriel mourns for himself, but he doesn’t let the grief swallow him. He knows that this moment does not last long.
There is a crash as the door is kicked in. They sprint back into the front room. Gabriel stands between the soldiers and Noah. There is gunfire and screaming. Noah is hit. Gabriel is hit, too. He does not heal his wounds, chooses not to. As his life drains out across the tiled floor, he simply chooses another moment to experience. He knows he does not want to see the moments that come beyond this one.
Peter watches Sylar die. He is frozen in awe. Sylar could tear these men apart with a thought. Peter expects him to. He doesn’t.
Peter closes his eyes and promises himself that he will stop this. He opens them again in 2001.
Peter is sixteen. He is reading a novel about bombs and flying saucers and books that you read all at once. He hears gunfire, and with a start he looks up and casts his eyes around the room. He feels that he is still in the kitchen, still watching the blood seep into the cracks in the floor, but there are no soldiers with guns in this moment, there is no death, there is only Peter and his novel.
Looking into the mirror, he sees his own face, younger, free of scars, covered in patches of stubble and razor burn. Peter has jumped through time before, but he has always brought his own physical body with him. This time he feels he has not jumped so much as fallen. He is not a separate being, witnessing his own past from outside of himself, but rather he is experiencing this moment as he is also experiencing every other moment in his life. He understands this for the first time and yet feels as if he has always understood it. He sees all of time and how it works, how the pieces fit together. He has no control over any of it. Sylar takes his last breath on the kitchen floor in Texas just as his mother calls him down for dinner in New York.
Peter sits at the table with his family. They are talking and laughing, but there is an undercurrent of sadness. Nathan is being deployed tomorrow, leaving for Afghanistan in the early hours of the morning. As the night wears on, the unspoken fear is given a voice. Angela Petrelli, after perhaps one more glass of wine than she had planned to drink, whispers that she is afraid. Peter and Nathan hold her hands, telling her that Nathan will be okay, and Peter knows that it is true.
Peter also knows that Angela dreams, that she has seen Nathan return, alive and well. But Angela believes, as Isaac does, as Peter has done, that the future can be altered, that the people in it have choices. Peter knows that this is not the case.
Being here with his family, in this moment, Peter feels loved. He knows that Angela, and Nathan, and even his father, care about him. They always have and they always will. They have always betrayed him, and they always will. Peter has felt anger and hurt, has felt adrift as his world is ripped away from him. Now, he does not feel it. They love him, and they lie to him. Both are true. He cannot change it. Neither can they. He accepts.
Later in the moment, Peter returns to his room and picks up his novel. He knows how it ends, but he wants to experience it anyway. He turns the page. “We cannot stop any of these moments from happening,” the alien says. “They already have happened, and they always will happen. We simply choose which moments to focus on.”
Peter falls asleep with his nose in the book and wakes up standing on a street corner in Queens in 2005. He is holding Nathan’s watch, which has stopped ticking. He is going to see Gabriel Gray.
A bell chimes softly as he enters the dimly lit shop. “Just a minute!” a voice calls from the back. Peter wanders through the shelves and shelves of timepieces, ticking in unison, the mechanisms perfectly balanced. He reaches the counter.
“What can I do for you?” Gabriel asks. Peter hands him the watch.
“It’s my brother’s. He’ll be home in one week. Can you fix it?” Peter knows he can.
“Of course. Leave it with me. I’ll call you when it’s ready. Just write your name and number in the ledger.” Peter does so. Gabriel glances down at Peter’s empty wrist. “You don’t wear a watch yourself?”
Gabriel looks at Peter quizzically, as if he is an interesting but ultimately trivial mystery that he would like to solve but will make no special effort to do so. He does not yet feel the Hunger. He is simply curious.
Peter does not wear a watch or have a clock in his apartment. He does nothing to mark the passage of time. It is irrelevant. He returns Gabriel’s gaze, basking in its familiar intensity. He is not afraid. Gabriel Gray has never hurt Peter. He never will. Peter sees him cutting up waffles, with blood leaking slowly out of the holes in his chest. He thinks about the Gabriel who doesn’t try to stop Peter going on a journey that he knows to be pointless, who trusts Peter to discover the truth for himself.
Peter says none of this to Gabriel. In this moment, he does not have the ability to understand. This Gabriel Gray cannot see through time. This Gabriel Gray will think Peter is crazy. Instead, he says, “I usually just look at my phone.”
Gabriel is satisfied with (if a little saddened by) this answer. He hands Peter a ticket which he must bring with him when he comes to collect the watch. Peter walks out of the shop and onto Charles Deveaux’s roof terrace. It is 2006.
He is standing right on the edge. In the background, he can hear Nathan calling out to him.
“Come away from the edge, Pete.”
“I can fly, Nathan. So can you. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re exhausted. You need to rest. Just come away from the edge and we can talk about this.”
Peter turns to look back at his brother. He is frightened, out of his mind with worry. Peter knows that the worry is not all for him. He knows that Nathan will handwave all this away, will tell a room full of people that Peter had tried to kill himself, that even now he is frantically trying to figure out how to stop Peter from fucking up his campaign. Peter also knows that Nathan will catch him. He jumps.
There is a tremendous crash, followed by a scream. Blood pools across the tiled floor as Jackie Wilson’s body hangs limply against the lockers in the main hallway of Union Wells High.
“Stop!” Peter yells at the shadowy figure skulking in the dark, looking for the correct victim. Sylar whips his whole body around to face him, the movement almost inhuman in its ferocity, clearly outraged by the intrusion.
“Get out of here,” Sylar snarls, “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
Peter, in fact, knows exactly who he is messing with. This is Sylar, who has already lost count of how many people he has murdered, who cannot control his Hunger, who will eventually kill Nathan, whom Peter loves most in the world. This is Gabriel, who makes waffles every Saturday morning, who once wrote his number on a receipt for a watch repair, who, in a moment far from this one, will choose to die rather than experience time without the people he loves. Peter has never called the number. The right moment has never existed.
Impatient, Sylar flicks his wrist, and the lockers fly away from the wall and into Peter, pinning him to the floor. In the distance, Claire Bennet screams and Sylar chases after her. Peter breaks free and is only a few seconds behind them. He follows them up to the roof. He spots Sylar standing at the precipice.
“You don’t have to be this way, you know”, Peter calls out to him, “You can change. I’ve seen it.”
“Change what, exactly?” Sylar regards him with the same kind of disdain with which a noble lord might look upon the peasants over whose lives he has complete dominion.
“The Hunger. You can control it. You don’t have to kill people.”
Sylar laughs, a sound that crawls over Peter’s skin and chills him with its coldness. It is unmistakeably Sylar’s laugh, and not Gabriel’s. He flashes Peter a cruel smile.
“I like it.”
Peter barrels into him, and they fall over the edge together.
Sylar comes to, and stares at the canvas in front of him. He is in Isaac Mendez’s loft, and he has just seen through time.
Peter drags himself, bruised and bloody, out of a bush in the grounds of Pinehearst Headquarters in 2008. Sylar has just thrown him out of a window, and Gabriel has cushioned his fall.
Gabriel checks his voicemail. There is one new message. It is not from the man who never wears a watch. It is from a doctor called Chandra Suresh. He is telling him that he is special.
Peter watches the flames curl up into the sky, inhaling the acrid smoke as they burn Sylar’s body, wipe any trace of him from the world. No-one is mourning him. He watches his mother, and Noah, who give nothing away.
Gabriel digs his way out of a shallow grave in Baltimore in 2009. In this moment, he cannot remember who he is. He needs to know. He needs to understand.
Peter weeps as he says goodbye to Nathan, as his brother gently asks him to let go. He knows that this is one moment, that there are many other moments where Nathan is alive and well, but that doesn’t make this moment hurt any less. It doesn’t stop the pain from dragging him under as he tries to make sense of it. Below him, Sylar’s broken body knits itself back together.
Claire Bennet jumps off the top of a Ferris wheel in 2010. Peter and Gabriel slip away into the night, going into hiding as the world collapses around them.
Sylar is dragged, tumbling, into the moment by a searing pain. He is looking up at the ceiling, and at Peter, who is looming over him with a nail gun. Peter is screaming at him, all rage and hurt and grief and revenge. Peter demands that Sylar gives him his brother back, promising that he will keep him awake and in agony until he does. They both know it is impossible. They both know how this moment ends. But Peter is consumed by anguish and fury, and there is nothing Sylar can do as Peter rips him apart. He tortures him for hours, pushing his own pain into him with every cut, trapping him in the space between healing and dying where Sylar can no more think of anything else than he can help Peter to do the same. Together they remain engulfed in torment as Peter searches for the answer to a question that Sylar does not know.
The constant clanging of the sledgehammer against the wall rings in Sylar’s head as he tries to bury himself under the pillow. Giving up, he glances at the clock, which claims it is six AM. It is not, as time does not exist inside this nightmare realm, but Sylar keeps track of it anyway. Peter has been trapped in here with him for three years now. He has been trying to bring down the wall for half of that. It is getting on Sylar’s nerves. He goes out to check on his companion.
“Will you stop banging?”
Peter doesn’t stop, or even turn to look at him. “It might be over faster if you helped,” he remarks.
Sylar rolls his eyes. “I’m not the helping type.”
At this, Peter sighs and drops his sledgehammer. “You know that’s not true. You’re going to help me. You do help.”
“Gabriel helps. Sylar doesn’t. I’m Sylar. I hurt people, remember?”
“Not always.”
Sylar scoffs. “I’m a murderer. I always have been, and I always will be.”
“You have your moments. Moments where you do the right thing.”
Peter looks steadily at Gabriel. He knows how this moment ends, how all of their moments end. He knows Gabriel knows this, too. But Gabriel is too wrapped up in guilt about things that he cannot change. He will come around eventually. Peter will wait.
Sylar’s head is full of moments. He exists in time simultaneously with all of the worst things he has ever done. That he did them was inevitable, just as it is inevitable that he will do them again, that he will always do them.
“How do I redeem myself when I know that I’m going to kill again?”
“You have to accept. Choose the moments to focus on. Out of anyone, I should know first hand how much pain you’ve caused, but I choose to focus on the moments where you help me. The moments where we trust each other. I need you, Gabriel. I can’t do this without you.”
Gabriel takes a step back. “My name is Sylar.”
“It used to be Gabriel.”
Gabriel is silent for a few minutes, looking at Peter, than at the wall, then at Peter again. Finally, he picks up a sledgehammer. Gabriel focuses on the moments where he helps. He swings the hammer. A tiny crack appears in the wall, and they are blinded by the light that pours out of it.
Peter points a gun at his father’s head in 2008. He pulls the trigger, and the bullets hang in mid-air. The moment stretches out before him, until he hears a familiar voice.
“You’re not a killer, Peter. I am.”
The bullets fall to the floor, and Sylar slits Arthur Petrelli’s throat. Sylar washes the blood from Peter’s hands, and Peter is grateful beyond measure, for he has never received such an act of love from anybody else. Peter catches his father’s body as it falls, and Sylar is already gone. Peter closes his eyes, praying to the god that his father believes in.
In 1990, Gabriel watches as his parents get in the car without him. He sees his father holding a gun, and his mother’s brains dripping down the window. In 2009, Sylar pins Samson Gray to the wall by his throat, digs into his windpipe until he gasps for each breath. Sylar sees the mother who raised him, gurgling in agony on the kitchen floor. He sees the mother who was taken from him. Gabriel sees Peter, standing at his mother’s bedside as she lies in a coma. He sees Peter telling him that he needs him. He lets Samson Gray go. He leaves the decaying old man in the rotting old house. He gets back into his car, and the dam breaks. The tears rush out of him in a torrent, and he sobs and sobs until his body can take no more, and he succumbs to exhaustion.
The sound of gunfire jolts Peter back to reality. He is in a kitchen in Odessa, Texas. It’s 2012, and he sees the light leave Gabriel’s eyes. He can’t stop it, knows that he can never stop it. The moment is inevitable. His heart shatters anyway.
The wrath overtakes him, and he turns on the soldiers. He obliterates them without a thought, tearing them to pieces and burning the pieces to ash. He enacts his vengeance on the world, his retribution swift and merciless. All the while, he thanks a god that he doesn’t believe in that Gabriel cannot see him.
Gabriel feels himself being shaken awake. He opens his eyes to see Peter hovering over him. He runs a hand through his hair. “What time is it?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” Peter gestures at his empty wrist. “It’s dark outside. Let’s go for a walk.”
“What about Noah?”
“He’s sleeping. Nothing will happen.”
Gabriel knows he is right.
They walk down the road and out past the edge of town. The air is warm, and the sky is full of stars. They walk all the way to the abandoned mine where Claire films her sixth suicide attempt in 2006. They sit together, backs against the cold steel. Gabriel, still sleepy, leans into Peter’s shoulder. Peter absently traces patterns on the back of his hand.
“It’s tomorrow.” Peter shifts slightly. “The day I come for your power,” he says. The day you die, he doesn’t say.
“I know,” Gabriel replies, and he does, even the part that Peter doesn’t say. “What if I say no? What if I refuse to give you my ability?”
“You won’t.” It is true. They both know it.
“This is a good moment,” Gabriel murmurs. Peter smiles, gently pressing his lips to Gabriel’s hair. They sit like this together until morning. When the dawn breaks in the east, the sun rising over them for the last time, Gabriel sits up a little and kisses Peter softly, lingering, before walking back to the house to make waffles. They don’t say goodbye. It is irrelevant. Peter leans back and allows sleep to take him.
Peter Petrelli has come undone in time. He stands in an alleyway in New York and sees the world explode. He cannot stop himself. He burns, so bright and hot, a ball of nuclear energy, growing and growing and getting further out of control. The heat sears the flesh from his bones, cracking the ground and melting the sky. The world will never experience another moment without Gabriel Gray. This is how it ends, how it has always ended, how it will always end. He knows, as he has always known. The explosion rips through him, through space and time itself, and tears the universe asunder. As this moment and all other moments end, Peter thinks of a happier one. He steps into the blinding white light, and out of the door of a small repair shop in Queens.
In his left hand, he is holding Nathan’s watch, now fixed and ticking along as it should be. Nathan will be home tomorrow. Peter cannot wait to see him. In his other hand, he holds the receipt. He turns it over. There is a number on the back. Peter grins to himself, before pulling out his phone and dialing.
“Hello?” says the voice at the other end.
“Gabriel? It’s me. Peter Petrelli.”
There is a pause.
“Hi, Peter. It’s good to hear from you.”
Back in his shop, Gabriel smiles.
This is a good moment.
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