#if i go on too long ill start sounding like i need intervention but. its the period messing with my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: This is incredibly dialogue heavy, and I actually don't feel as confident about this chapter as some of the past ones? Hopefully y'all like it, I mean at least the ending is cute (or cheesy, depending on who you ask). PS: Not sure how many chapters there will be in total, other than at least 3 more (one of which ill, in fact, get a little h*rny again. actually, h*rnier). Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy

Chapter 7: Harmony

“We need to talk, yeah?” Daniela asked, nearly stuttering, a sort of nervous that you had never seen her exhibit before. The first thing you think is that she’s really, really cute when she doesn’t know what to do. After that you actually process what she said. Relief floods your chest, followed by warmth, and you make a mental note to thank Bela the next time you see her. In the meantime, you were unable to contain your happiness. Out of instinct you move closer to Daniela, smiling softly, quietly reaching one of your hands towards hers. There’s no hesitance in her response. Instead of taking your hand she pulls you in for a hug, opting to rest her chin against your shoulder. Admittedly you’re a little surprised, but you return the motion nonetheless. “Oh, little songbird…”

Heart racing, you softly press against Daniela, turning your head so that you could place a single, brief kiss against her exposed collarbone. For a moment the two of you just stay like that, holding each other close. When you pull away, remembering that you still hadn’t said anything, you find that Daniela is blushing from the neck up. In turn, the sight makes you blush. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Though you can’t see yourself, you know your eyes are filled with affection.

“I love when you look at me like this,” Daniela whispered, not entirely meaning to voice her thoughts. Then you’re blushing harder, smile small but sweet. “Mmm, you’re just darling, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as much as yourself, my Lady. To be in your company is to be the luckiest soul in the world. I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of which you inspire in me,” you replied, trying not to stumble over your words, barely able to process any thoughts other than ‘pretty lady likes me ahh’. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks from language arts class. Who knew studying the classics could make you more romantic? At least one English teacher, probably. “I’ll have plenty of time to try, though… after we talk about things, that is. Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’m not terribly eager for your mother to overhear.”

“Are you sure we can’t talk about how much you like me for a while longer?” Daniela asked, faking a pout. When you perk a brow at her antics, she shifts a little, forcing herself to be a little more serious (at least for the time being). “If you insist, my sweet thing. I’d suggest my room-” she winks at you- “but I doubt we’d stay talking for long, would we? Maybe the library? Neither of my sisters tend to go there around this time of day, and I can hardly remember the last time mother went there.”

“Well, no one from the day shift is scheduled to organize things until later this week, so… sounds like a date to me,” you chimed, enjoying the way that Daniela’s face lit up in response. “There’s just one thing I have to take care of first. Wouldn’t want my roommates to think something has happened to me, now would we?” With that said you linked your arm with your partner’s, setting off towards the servants quarters.

—————————————–

“Oh thank goodness, we were starting to get worried!” Daphne exclaimed as you quietly ducked into your room. For a second you freeze in place, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that she hadn’t seen Daniela behind you. Certainly the vampire would have moved out of sight?... Despite your assumption, you do see Daphne hesitate for a moment, gazing at the now closed door. Thinking quickly, you give a little wave to draw her attention elsewhere. Seemingly it works like a charm, with her attention returning to you, and so you release an internal sigh of relief. Now you just had to think of an excuse for why you’d be staying up late.

“It’s fine- I’m fine, really. Just had to carry something for one of the Ladies,” you lied, trying not to be specific enough to possibly contradict facts you weren’t aware of. “I, uh, kinda have to go back out, though? There are some piano books I need to find before tomorrow morning. I’ve already found a few, but apparently there’s at least one that goes over some technical practice songs, and I think D-” you almost wince, but lean into it, stuttering instead- “th-think that Lady Daniela would enjoy the variety. Not sure how long it’ll take me to find the books, so don’t stay up waiting for me. I promise I’ll still get enough sleep to function tomorrow.”

“So the lessons haven’t been canceled? That’s good to hear,” Daphne said, nodding slowly. The words catch you off guard, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. Noticing your expression, your roommate is quick to explain. “After whatever happened yesterday… we weren’t sure if we’d ever hear you play again. Not that we know what happened, just that Lady Daniela was, well, upset, and you stopped playing sooner than usual. But I suppose if the lessons were canceled completely… I doubt Lady Dimitrescu would let you go that easily, huh?”

Again, you shift awkwardly, wondering how Daniela must feel hearing all of this. But just like that Daphne shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, and gives a little shrug.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know you already promised, but we both know you’ll lose track of time if you aren’t careful. If you aren’t in bed by the time the sun reaches its peak, I swear we are gonna have words!” Both of you laugh before Daphne waves you off with a smile. Still, you wait to open the door until she (and the other maidens) has her back to you. Better safe than sorry, right?

—————————————–

Somehow the room felt different in a million ways, now that you were here with Daniela. There was something about the way she moved, freely, eyes and fingers running down the spines of familiar books. Even if you had not seen it before, it felt like the library was overflowing with magic. What I would give, you think, to see the whole world tinted in shades of her. Again you find yourself blushing as you followed Daniela towards a small sitting area. One of the chairs is practically a recliner, with plenty of space, and you realize what she has planned mere moments before she acts.

Next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer to her, practically lifted into the air. Then you’re falling back, right on top of a giggling Daniela. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re in her lap, held just tight enough to keep you from getting up. She’s watching your face closely, smirking with pure satisfaction.

“Are we going to be able to talk like this?” You asked, a little unsure yourself, already distracted by the soft curve of her jawline. Even as you speak you’re eying her, imagining what it would feel like to trail kisses along her skin until she was restless… Thankfully she responds before your mind gets too carried away.

“Of course we are, little songbird. Probably. If you behave,” Daniela teased, gently playing with your hair as she did. You can’t help but laugh when she suggests that you are the one who needs to control yourself. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I just… I think that it’s easier for me to, fuck, I don’t know. Relax? It’s easier for me to relax like this, holding you, getting to kiss that lovely neck of yours-” she pauses to demonstrate- “and that means I won’t freak out like last time. Or so goes my thought process, anyway.”

“In that case…” You’re sitting perpendicular to her now, still holding on tight. One hand cups her cheek, gently caressing the skin, before you lean in for a kiss. The two of you enjoy yourselves for a minute, glad to have this time together, more glad to be reassured of each other’s affection. To think that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her gaze if not for Bela’s intervention… Eventually you pull back, knowing that you did need to talk. “I care about you, firefly, and I want things between us to be real, and healthy, but I…”

The words died in your throat, a lump you couldn’t quite swallow, when memories sprung up like weeds in your brain. Communication mattered to you for a thousand reasons, and you weren’t blind to the irony of one of those reasons making you freeze up.

“I haven’t… done this before, not for real,” Daniela replied, mistaking your paues for uncertainty. “Apparently being an immortal, blood-drinking princess is only attractive in the realm of fiction. Maidens only ever seemed interested in a fleeting rush, or a fraction of a chance at an escape. They didn’t care for romance.” Now her tone gets bitter, and her eyebrows furrow. You can see her shoulders tense up, raising a little, making you try to snap out of your own thoughts for a few moments. By the time she speaks again, you’ve started to gently rub her back. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my novels. How often does the monster actually get a happy ending?” She says the words with a hollow laugh. Still, she’s relaxed a little under your touch, even leaning into it.

“You’ve… done some bad things. Hurt a lot of people, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t scare me,” you started to say, ignoring the heartache you feel when you see Daniela’s hurt expression. “But you’re more than that. You’re soft, cute, and mischievous. More than that… I can tell that you want something beautiful. We can have that, we can make that, for ourselves, with our own hands and our own desires. But we can’t use stories as a blueprint. We can’t rely on what we’ve read, not when everything the two of us do is brand new. Not when-” you close your eyes, fighting back tears, glimpsing fragments of your last relationship- “not when I’ve already been hurt by my own misconceptions. The things we read aren’t always real, or right, or anything like what we need. What we deserve.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back a little,” Daniela murmured, barely able to get the words out. It almost looks like she’s close to crying, but her cheeks are dry, and her voice is steady. “But you’re right. What we have is better than anyone could write, anyway. You’re my little songbird, and I’m not letting you go anytime soon. Even if I have to figure out this whole ‘communication’ thing. I suppose that means I should… come clean. About a few things.” There’s a clear hesitance to her voice, like she’s embarrassed, and she’s speaking slower than usual. A blush rises to her cheeks before she takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now, if you aren’t ready. We’ve already made good progress, I think, even if half of it might be because of your sisters. Well, sister, singular. Cassandra throwing me into that wall really didn’t help anyone. Except maybe the chiropractor I will inevitably need to see,” you joked, remembering your earlier conversation with Bela.

“Hold up for a fucking second, Cassandra did what? I’m going to replace all her paint brushes with stained carpet strips, and that’s if she apologizes. Nobody fucks with my baby,” Daniela snapped, expression as serious as can be. Normally you found her anger to be terrifying. Now that she was directing it at someone else? And on your behalf?... Maybe it was a tiny bit cute. Which you tried to show, by gently bringing her in for another kiss. Of course, Daniela isn’t quite as gentle, instead kissing you hard, holding you as closely as she can. There’s a bit of possessiveness in her grip, and it makes you tense up. But as soon as you do she’s pulling back, breathing hard, eyes weighed down with concern.

“Y’know, I think she was just mad that I made you cry. And if I found out someone made you cry, I would be pretty angry. Not that I’d throw someone, partially because I don’t think I could, but still. It’s… almost cute how much your sisters care about you. Almost, just not quite,” you said, eager to draw the attention away from your reaction. Like you had told Daniela, it was okay if you weren’t ready to talk about everything. “Speaking of that, I can’t believe I haven’t apologized yet. I panicked so much, I didn’t even realize I was yelling until you picked me up. No matter how frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t, please,” Daniela interrupted, eyes closing for a moment. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. I pinned you to the wall, and not for the usual reason!” There’s a bit of panic in her expression, and you get the feeling that she’s beating herself up inside about it. Which, based on what you had thought about what you had done, was understandable.

“Consider this: We both fucked up, and we’ve both acknowledged it now, so we could just… not talk about our regrets? At least for now,” you countered, glad to see Daniela relax and nod in response. Leaning in, you shift to rest your head against her shoulder, wanting to enjoy her proximity more. “Hey… if I’m your songbird, and you’re my firefly… are we, I don’t know… officially a couple now?”

“I was under the impression that we already were,” Daniela said, clearly a little confused. While you technically agreed with her… there was another part of you that wanted to have a little fun.

“You never asked, and I know I never did either, so…” Now you’re looking up at her, smile wide, heart beating faster than normal. “Lady Daniela, firefly of house Dimitrescu, lover of romance novels, player of pianos, keeper of my heart… Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? To be yours, officially, in the pursuit of affection and happiness like the village- nay, the world- has never before seen? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How’s this for an answer, songbird?” Daniela cooed. Then she was lifting your chin from her shoulder, turning her head and bringing you closer. Your lips touch, as gentle as can be. It’s a short kiss, but one radiating with love, that ends with your foreheads pressed against each other. In this moment, you feel like you could stay in her arms for the rest of eternity. “Yes. Absolutely yes, obviously, a thousand times. I could never say no to you, especially not now, with your eyes so desperate for the sight of me, and your lips so begging to be kissed. Now, how about we celebrate, hmm?”

Just as Daphne had predicted, you end up staying awake far too late, but you were all the happier for it.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #is this any good #today was a bit weird #kinda tired sorry

192 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Gift Giving.

Commissioned by the lovely @strawberry-cake-and-earlgrey.

Word Count: 3.0k

Pairing: Yandere!Sugawara/Reader/Yandere!Oikawa

Synopsis: Your boyfriends rarely agree on anything. Oikawa’s always been the jealous type, and while Sugawara isn’t as competitive, he never tries to hide his preference for one partner over the other. But, they can put their petty squabbles aside every so often, especially if it means taking on their favorite burden - proving how much they both love you.

TW: Graphic Violence, Blood, Lacerations, Knife-Based Violence, Non-Consensual Touching, Toxic Relationships, Mentions of Stalking, Implied Emotional Abuse, and Delusional Mindsets.

Sometimes, you wondered why Oikawa ever agreed to share.

He’d always struck you as the possessive type, the kind of guy who was too petty to let you split your attention between him and anything else, let alone another living, breathing person. Even if he still found a way to monopolize your time, dragging you away from your clubs and convincing your friends you had a good reason to isolate yourself so severely, he still had to deal with Sugawara. He could meet you at Karasuno’s gates every day, but he couldn’t go to class with you. He could brag about you to his team, insist on bringing you to every one of his games, but he’d always have to check with Sugawara, he'd always have to get permission, first. He could invite himself into your personal space, wait until you’re alone and helpless and vulnerable before he pinned you down and dug his teeth in, but he’d have to know Sugawara would already be there, smiling and laughing and smothering you more thoroughly than Oikawa would ever be able to. It had to eat away at him. It had to, at least a little. At least more than he let on.

It shined through, sometimes, if you looked closely enough. In the way he kept an arm around your waist whenever the two of you were together, or how he always found an excuse to remind you that he was the preferable option, the better option, even if he failed to denounce Sugawara’s love so blatantly. You could see it now, too, with his nails biting into your shoulder as he pulled you against his side, a tense grin pulling at the corners of his lips whenever you glanced in his direction. You hadn’t been surprised when he turned up on the gym’s doorstep, a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and his timing purposefully engineered to avoid the rest of the team, but that didn’t mean you were happy about his sudden appearance. Not when you knew him and Sugawara so well.

You’d known something was wrong from the moment Sugawara caught your wrist and went on about how nice it would be if you stayed to watch him practice, from the second he volunteered to lock up and let everyone else silently assume you wouldn’t walk home without your responsible, hard-working boyfriend at your side. He was planning something. You knew he was planning something, but there was nothing you could do that wouldn’t attract attention, that wouldn’t frame you as the temperamental partner who couldn’t be asked to wait without throwing a temper tantrum. Especially now that Oikawa was here, the gentle guiding hand, the nudge towards a peaceful solution, the calm voice that’d coo and hush and offer agreeable explanations until he and Sugawara were deemed innocent and you relegated to the role of a bratty, ill-tempered child who should be more grateful of their ceaseless efforts. It amazed you, how willing he was to drop his poorly-masked hostility as soon as he and Sugawara were pointed towards a common enemy. It used to amaze you.

Now, it just made you feel sick.

By the time you reached the boy’s locker room, the lights flickering and the door creaking on its hinges as he pushed it open, there was a firm knot in the back of your throat, a blend of guilt and anxiety that left you biting the inside of your cheek as you stepped into the sterile space, freshly cleaned and just big enough to make you feel small, in comparison. Oikawa let you go, locking the door behind him, but you didn’t try to run. You didn’t have anywhere to go, anywhere to hide, anyone who’d believe you or any safe-haven to run Oikawa turned his back. It wasn’t like you would’ve gotten very far, even if you did.

Sugawara was already sitting in front of you, straddling the wooden bench in the center of the room and smiling, his expression so careless, you could almost believe it wasn’t malicious.

Almost.

“What’s going on?” You asked, the question followed by a small, forced laugh. It was a weak attempt, but you tried to stay light-hearted, hoping they’d be kind enough to return the favor. “If I forgot about a date or something, you could’ve just told me. I don’t need an intervention.”

“You’re close, angel.” Oikawa opened his mouth, but Sugawara was faster, tapping the bench in front of him as he spoke. You moved to comply willingly, but Oikawa still felt the need to push you down to Sugawara’s height as soon as you were close enough, keeping a hand on your shoulder as you positioned yourself to face the more mild-mannered threat. Oikawa didn’t seem to mind, though. He didn’t waste time, slotting himself against your back, stringing his arms around your waist despite your attempts to shift into the comfortable space left between you and Sugawara. All it took was a change in his posture to make you go still, accompanied by a quick peck to the side of your neck. It was more of a warning than a reward, but you had to expect that, with Oikawa.

“I don’t blame you, honestly. It took you so long to come around, I don’t even know if we can count the first few weeks of our relationship as…” There was a light chuckle, a glance towards the floor, and you noticed he was toying with something in his right hand. If he felt a need to show it off, you couldn’t tell. “As a relationship, I guess. I almost felt like a stalker, back then.”

“He was a stalker,” Oikawa corrected. “Stealing stuff from your bag, leaving all those gushy notes, following you home…” There was a sigh from Oikawa, too dramatic to be taken seriously, and Sugawara groaned in return. “Don’t worry, though, I was way more polite. Whenever I followed you home, I made sure you didn’t notice. I know how touchy you get about your privacy, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told. Not after that. Not as Sugawara barely hesitated before reaching towards the collar of your uniform, nimble fingers beginning to undo the buttons with all the impatience he’d managed to hold back, earlier. “Our anniversary.”

There was a harsh tug on the hem of your sleeve from Oikawa, a cheery smile from Sugawara. Wrinkled, white fabric pooled around your waist, and abruptly, you realized just how cold the gym could be, despite the two pairs of eyes burning holes into your skin. “And I was going to spoil the surprise,” Sugawara lamented. “I wanted to wait until we were somewhere a little more scenic, but you know how restless Tooru can be, don’t you? He thought you’d catch on, if we waited any longer.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t against taking you home,” Oikawa added, almost absent-mindedly. “But, this is more private. I didn’t want anyone interrupting us while we give you your present.”

You stiffened, at that, fighting the temptation to push Sugawara away as he wrapped an arm around your waist over Oikawa’s, pulling you closer until you were crushed against his chest. Grudgingly, Oikawa let you go, but not without a disappointed huff. “I-I really don’t--” You tried to speak, but your voice was shaking, trembling despite your best attempts to keep it even, to stay composed. “I mean, I didn’t get you anything, so a gift really isn’t--”

There was a small, almost inaudible click, the scratch of metal on metal. You felt something pierce your skin, just above the curve of your shoulder blade, and a second later, it started to burn.

It was a shallow cut, the blade thin enough to make the cut as painless as possible, but it was still a blade, it was still a cut, and it still hurt. You jerked back reflexively, but that only helped Sugawara carve the first line, stark and solid and agonizing as he dragged his knife through your flesh, only made worse by the way he sliced at the wound, barely bothering to draw back before forcing it under your skin again, never pausing for more than a moment. You whimpered, trying to wrench yourself out of Sugawara’s hold, but he only brought his unoccupied hand up, tangling his fingers in your hair and encouraging you to lean into him, to ball his shirt in your hands and try to ignore the searing pain in your back, the thick, hot blood dripping down your back, undoubtably staining the uniform they’d been kind enough to hastily shove out of the way.

There was a slight tap to Sugawara’s wrist, and after one more jagged line, he pulled away just enough for Oikawa to swipe two fingers over the open wound. You cringed, shrinking into Sugawara, but Oikawa didn’t seem to notice, he didn’t seem to care. Not enough to stifle the sound of his fingers sliding past his lips, at least, or to swallow the throaty moan he let out as he tasted your blood, sending a cold spike of fear down your spine. Sugawara remained unaffected, only letting out a quiet chuckle before continuing his work. “You’re so gross.”

“And you’re messy,” Oikawa retorted, drawing back, taking up your hips, instead. “I would’ve done both, if I knew you’d be so bad at this.”

It was a stupid thing to linger on. You were being flayed, you were being tortured, but some stubborn, shallow part of your mind refused to move beyond the idea that the scar might be ugly, that Sugawara’s hack job might not fade into something abstract and meaningless in a few weeks. If either of your partners caught your futile attempts to glance over your shoulder, neither felt the need to comfort you. There was a small hush from Sugawara as you whimpered, a tightened hold on your hips from Oikawa as you writhed, but somehow, their touching acts of concern did little to soothe your worries.

“It’s not like I had a chance to practice,” Sugawara muttered, his focus now renewed. There was a swirl, a series of jagged lines, and you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your cracked sobbing. You hadn’t realized you were crying before you heard yourself, before you felt the tears streaming down your cheeks. It made sense, but you still tried to will yourself to stop. Tried and failed, obviously. “And look, you keep embarrassing them. How am I supposed to work if you keep making the poor thing squirm?”

“Is that true, cutie?” You didn’t answer, clenching your eyes shut as Sugawara twirled the tip of his knife in a tight, slow circle, but Oikawa didn’t seem to mind. This time, when he leaned into you, kissing the top of your head, he didn’t pull away, even after Sugawara finished and your breathing steadied to a constant, wobbling pattern. “This is just for us. ‘s just for Koshi and I to enjoy, and even if his present is…” There was a deliberate pause, a kick to Oikawa’s calf. “Even if his is unique, you’re still gonna be our pretty little angel. As long as our gifts do their jobs, you’re always gonna be our angel, too.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as Oikawa held out his hand, Sugawara only hesitating for a moment before dropping a small, blood strained pocket-knife into his palm. You tried to stand, tried to get away, but Oikawa only had to snake an arm around your waist to keep you in place, pressing your body flush against his chest. “We only need a few more minutes,” Sugawara promised, his fixed smile sweet enough to make you think it might’ve been genuine. To make you think he actually might’ve cared, if you’d been brave enough to tell him to stop. “Bear with us, alright? Oikawa’s good at this kind of thing, it won’t take long.”

If nothing else, Oikawa worked quickly. Sugawara tried to be delicate, trading brief brutality for drawn-out precision, but Oikawa didn’t seem to follow the same statagy. He chose somewhere noticeable, somewhere sensitive, the dip of your collarbone, where you could see the hilt of his knife moving along the edge of your vision. Whereas Sugawara’s burnt, like a branding-iron being forced under your skin, whatever Oikawa was doing only resulted in a numb pressure, an awareness that something was splitting apart and you desperately, desperately wished it wasn’t. You tried to glance down, tried to see what he was doing, but Sugawara didn’t seem to care for that idea. Without hesitation, he caught your chin, tilting your head back and slotting his lips against yours. You might’ve been thankful for it, too, if he hadn’t taken his turn first.

The kiss was gentle, just as tender and considerate and synthetic as you’d come to expect from him. He wanted to distract you, clearly, to take your mind off of Oikawa’s knife and the thin incisions, but if anything, the softness of it only made the sensation more vivid, more unignorable. It only made everything hurt more, but you might’ve been giving him too much credit. By the time Sugawara’s touch began to wonder, his fingers dipping down to trace over the marks he’d so carefully engraved in your skin, you were tempted to say the distraction was more for his sake than yours.

You never leaned into it, you couldn’t bring yourself to. It was all you could do to let out a scratchy, pained shreik as Oikawa finished, ending his carving with a long, winding dash that ran to the center of your chest, one that sent a fresh acidic wash across your skin every time you took a deep breath. You almost glanced down when Sugawara drew back, almost spoiled the surprise, but Oikawa was quick to press the flat of his blade against the bottom of your chin, forcing you to keep your head up as he pressed his mouth against yours, the kiss half as long as Sugawa’s but twice as forceful, as if he felt the need to get back every second he might lost.

By the time it was over, you were gasping, the adrenaline fading and a new wave of tears building up in the corners of your eyes. Thankfully, your boyfriends allowed you a small moment of reprieve, but it was a fleeting sense of tranquility. Before you could calm down, before you could do so much as start to recover, Oikawa was already pushing you away, trusting you to steady yourself as he fished his phone out of his pocket. You stumbled, nearly falling forward, but Sugawara caught you, chuckling as you dug your nails into his sleeves. The sound was so calm, so cheery, you could almost bring yourself to ignore the shudder of Oikawa’s camera, the satisfied scoff he allowed himself as he looked over his work. You were confused, for a second, almost offended, but it didn’t take you long to remember the reason for his sudden distance.

Oikawa wanted to show off your gift.

Sugawara must’ve arrived at a similar conclusion. “Maybe we should wait,” He suggested with a noncommittal shrug. “It might be a little too much, today. We could wash off the excess, wait for it to scar… it’s not like I won’t be able to make sure (Y/n) doesn’t peek, in the meantime.”

But, Oikawa was already leaning forward, stringing his arms over your shoulders as he held his phone in front of you, already open to the picture he’d just taken. You didn’t mean to look. You didn’t want to look, but once you caught a glimpse, once you got a hint at the full image, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It took you longer than it should’ve to recognize the sloppy scrawl, the lopsided text that’d been gouged into your back. You could still feel it, if you tried to. It wasn’t unbearable, but every cut seemed to ignite with a new fire as you looked over the uneven, jagged shapes. Letters, you realized, then a name. Koushi.

Koushi.

You felt like you were in a trance, like some unseen force was compelling you to lift your hand and drag your fingertips across the wound on your collarbone, one indented symbol at a time despite the fresh row of needles you pushed into your flesh at every point of feather-light contact. Neither of them made the effort to take another picture, but Oikawa cupped his hand over yours, keeping your hand on your chest, on the name that’d be etched into your skin for the next few months, if you were lucky. For the rest of your life, if you weren’t.

Koushi and Tooru. Sugawara and Oikawa.

Your loving, caring, devoted boyfriends. Your partners who couldn’t bear to see your attention stray.

The blood loss might’ve been a mercy. At least your mind was too clouded-over to really take in what this meant.

“It’s pretty, right?” It was Oikawa’s voice, but you could hardly hear him over the ringing in your ears, over the all-consuming, all-devouring dread that was beginning to swallow you whole. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on, just to make sure it heals. We wouldn’t want you doing anything to ruin our gift so soon, would we?”

It was almost a relief when Sugawara spoke, urging you on with a whispered ‘tell him how much you like it’, his expression sympathetic but his eyes bright. He was remorseful, but he didn’t regret hurting you. He didn’t agree with Oikawa, but he genuinely thought he loved you, that he’d done something you might be grateful for. That was more than you could say for Oikawa. Possessive, jealous Oikawa. Petty, sadistic Oikawa.

Oikawa, who’d let another man carve his name into your skin just to punish you for catching his eye in the first place. Who’d sit back and watch you bleed, just because he couldn’t be the only person who got to say when you deserved to.

Your tongue felt heavy, when you opened your mouth. Your voice came out unsteady, your tone impassive, but you knew neither of them would care. Sugawara wouldn’t look any further than the words themselves, he wouldn’t want to, and Oikawa…

Oikawa just liked to watch you suffer.

“It’s beautiful.”

421 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Tainted Apollo

Pairing: Kars x Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.

Words: 3056.

Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.

P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha

____________

"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.

Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.

When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.

It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.

He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.

Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.

Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.

The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.

Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.

Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?

He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.

Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.

What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.

"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."

Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.

You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.

The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.

Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.

The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.

When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."

Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.

"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."

You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.

And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.

As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.

Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.

"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."

You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.

"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.

Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.

#kars x reader #kars jjba #kars jojo #jjba #yandere #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency

153 notes · View notes

cherry-draws · 3 years

Text

[Yiga Husband Fanfic] Poisonus plan

I am super happy to see people liking my previous story "Fantasy Night" so here's an other one featuring our dear Master Kohga.

Kohga woke up with a severe headache and felt as though he had just come out of a long sleep. Although he spent most of his time napping, this was the first time it happened to him. Just curling his fingers hurt him. Despite the pain, the leader of the yiga clan managed to sit up and open his eyes. Looking around the room, his heart skipped a beat.

"Kohga: Where am I ? This is not my room. "

A bitter taste in his throat made the pronunciation of the words unbearable. Kohga sank down heavily on the mattress, breathing heavily. A smell of sweat reached his nostrils, indicating that he had sweated a lot during the night, something that didn't happen often either. Someone suddenly entered the room, which made him jump, but his aching body prevented him from turning around.

"? : Hello, Master Kohga, how are you feeling?

Kohga: Who are you?

? : What, you don't recognize me ? Lord, this is more serious than I thought.

Kohga: What are you talking about?

? : Master, you have fallen terribly ill and it seems that the moments of lucidity are scarce.

Kohga: Wait, are you saying that I'm going insane ?

? : But not at all, no. You are in pain, Master. You have a fever, an excruciating cough, you don't want to eat any more, not even a piece of banana. For the safety of our colleagues we have preferred to isolate you in this makeshift infirmary, to “quarantine” you, if you prefer. I understand that you may not like it, but we are afraid that the disease is contagious. I was formerly a practitioner of medicine before joining the clan, and you allowed me to practice my practices in case anyone get sick. It wasn't what I wanted at first, but the circumstances required my intervention.

Kohga: I can't believe it, I don't remember anything! I just feel very tired. Besides, if you could let me sleep, that would suit me.

Doctor: I have come to take you to the consultation room. My colleague needs to examine you to see the state of your health and give you your treatment. Come on, please. "

Kohga stood up painfully, feeling stiff in his muscles. The doctor helped him to walk by taking his arm. Even though the drive to the office was relatively short, it was enough to intensify the yiga's feeling of fatigue, who found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Once there, Kohga stretched out painfully on the table as a second doctor appeared before him. He was wearing a large white overall over his suit.

“Doctor 2: Hello Master Kohga. I apologize for forcing you to move in your state, but this is where we store all the required equipment. Describe to me your health state.

Kohga: Well ... "

No other word could come out of his mouth. His mind sank into a deep sleep.

Later that he woke up, and this time he forced himself to keep his eyes open behind his mask. Listening, he managed to hear the doctors talking to each other.

"Doctor 1: Are you sure this will work? He still looks sharp enough to ask questions.

Doctor 2: But you saw him go into a coma, right? In a short time, it will be just a half-alive vegetable, it will no longer be a problem!

Doctor 1: Don't speak that loud, you fool, he will hear us!

Doctor 2: So you do ! There is no risk, I tell you, with the doses that he was injected it should prevent him from moving. Once we're done with him ... "

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. His face received a violent punch and his body fell to the ground under the astonished eyes of his teammate.

“Doctor 1: Ah, I was right!

Kohga: WHO ARE YOU? And why do you want to poison me ?!

Doctor 1: Master Kohga, please, you are starting to lose your mind again! Go back to bed, I beg you, you will hurt yourself!

Kohga: No! I'm not crazy, on the other hand you two, you really think I'm a fool! I heard all your little conversation and I know you want to kill me! I don't know why you are after me, but I know what I heard!

Doctor 1: No, you are wrong! It is the fever that makes you hear voices, we do not want any harm, we are not ...

Kohga: My soldiers! You are not my soldiers, you are impostors! Now prepare yourselves ! "

Kohga raised his arms above his head to generate a giant ball. No matter how hard he was concentrated, nothing happened.

"Doctor 2: Don't use your powers, it will tire you out!"

Kohga resigned himself to use magic and decided to strike his opponents directly with his fists. Once the two individuals were on the ground, he fled. His chubby legs hurt him, but he refused to slow down, he had to flee, find refuge, but where? The place did not look like the hideout at all. It was not the hidehout. It was a place made of corridors, a sort of labyrinthine dojo.

"Kohga: But where am I going to go? I'm lost, I'm alone, but where are my soldiers when I need them? If I call for help, they will find me ... "

The leader of the yiga clan then attempted to teleport, but each of his attempts ended in failure. Due to his condition, he could no longer use his powers. He ran, feeling his breath diminish, until he came to a closed room where he rushed into it, pressing his back against the door.

"Kohga: I can't stay here forever, I have to ..."

The migraine suddenly erupts, forcing him to hold his head in his hands. The pain felt gave him the impression that each of his neurons was bursting one after the other. His body stiffened, and fell heavily to the ground.

When Kohga regained consciousness, he was unable to move, and his limbs were still numb. His body seemed to rock on its own, but he realized that someone was holding him in his arms. Although unaware of the identity of its wearer, his body emanated a familiar kind of warmth, inspiring a sense of security. When the individual looked up at him, Kohga recognized him immediately behind his mask.

"? : Shhh, don't be afraid. It's me, Sooga.

Kohga: Finally you're here! But what the hell happened !? I ... Get me out of this hell!

Sooga: I beg you, calm down, I'll tell you everything. You have been the victim of a kidnapping. I and the other soldiers searched for you for days, we get up early in the morning and come home exhausted at night. We entered this abandoned place and it is there that I found you. Don't be afraid, I will warn the others and we will go home.

? : I don't think so ! "

Sooga distraught, turned and faced the two individuals in white overall, both holding a syringe in their hand. Three other doctors also appeared.

“Sooga: You ... You will pay for what you dared to do!

Doctor 1: I advise you to return your boss to us immediately, otherwise we'll make you regret your decision ! You are alone, you cannot defend yourself, no one can help you! "

The enemies advanced until they surrounded the two yigas. Sooga hugged his master as tightly as he could in his muscular arms, like a mother seeking to protect her newborn baby.

"Kohga: Sooga, do something!"

Doctor 2: If you try anything ... "

The chief suddenly stiffened, his face froze and he fell, lifeless. A sturdy figure appeared behind him. The yiga blademaster who had knocked him out stabbed his sword into the medic's body, leaving the others in shock.

"Blademaster: Who told you he came by himself eh? Who do you thinks we are? "

Three other blademasters and five footsoldiers appeared simultaneously in a bunch of smoke, around the medics, helpless in front of the sharp blades which pointed in their direction. In an instant, they were all dead. Only one was spared. It was the one Kohga had first met.

"Footsoldier : Now you'll listen to me, you scumbag.You better tell us what your plan was, why you attacked our boss. Otherwise, it's not death that awaits you, it's worse. We will harass you until you crack, burn your stuff, kill your family like we killed your friends, torture you until you speak ...

Doctor 1: I surrender! I am going to tell you ! We wanted to get rid of you once and for all. But we knew that with so many soldiers we couldn't reach you so we devised a strategic plan: thanks to our science, Sheikah technology and a poison specially made by us, we were able to kidnap and drugging your boss, which wasn't difficult given his great weakness. We suspected that you would flip every pebble back to Hyrule to find it, and patiently waited for one of you to be stupid enough to come here alone, but we didn't expect you all to come !

Footsoldier: It's the proof that you don't know anything about the yiga clan, and if you had been a little more cooperative you could have gotten to know us. It's a shame, but hey that's how it is. Goodbye ! "

The edge of a blade against the flesh of was heard. The man fell to the ground, his throat was bleeding.

A few days later.

Life began to turn back to normal in the yiga hideout. Kohga, extremely weakened, had spent several days reclusive in his room, his rare moments of awakening were when Sooga brought him his treatment against the poison. Thanks to the knowledge in medicinal plants of certain members, the effects of the poison could be definitively eradicated. After a week, the leader of the yigas was almost cured, and continued to gain strength.

Sooga silently entered his master's bedroom, who had just opened his eyes.

"Sooga: Didn't I wake you up?

Kohga: No, not at all. Come closer. Sit on the bed. "

Sooga was surprised by thoses words, and, despite the embarrassment he felt, he could not refuse his proposal and ended up sitting down.

"Kohga: Sooga ... How could I thank you, while without you, I wouldn't be here? You risked your life, our soldiers too.

Sooga: I never would have done it without their help. Alone, I would have failed. But this is all over now. The main thing is that we are safe and sound. The blademasters will tighten up security so any infiltration incidents will happen again.

Kohga: Sooga ...

Sooga: Something wrong?

Kohga: Sooga, lie down for a moment.

Suppa: But I can't...

Kohga: I don't want to be alone anymore and the bed is big enough for both of us. Come on, don't make me say it twice. "

Sooga finally accepted and lay down, hiding the fact that he was blushing behind his mask. His heartbeat quickened as Kohga snuggled up against him.

"Kohga: You deserve to take some rest too.

Sooga: Yes, Master. "

#my fanfiction #one shot #age of calamity #aoc sooga #botw aoc #loz aoc #sooga age of calamity #sooga #sooga x kohga #kohga x sooga #kohga #master kohga #yiga clan #yiga husbands #yaoi fanfic #poisonus plan

34 notes · View notes

jojoboisimagines · 4 years

Text

Jonathan, Josuke, Johnny and Dio helping an s/o who’s self-deprecating

tw: alluding to suicide, depression

A/N: A bit self-indulgent, but I also wanted to make this to be encouraging to all of you reading this

Jonathan

He occasionally hears you diss yourself a couple of times and always rebuttals with telling you ‘that’s not true, love!’ or ‘you’re trying your best!’

No matter how severe it is, he will never let his s/o talk ill of themselves.

Sometimes you go too far for his liking, and he immediately coddles you and asks if there’s anything deeper you want to discuss that’s bothering you

He’ll cry after hearing you insist that you’re awful after he’s tried so hard to convince you of the opposite. He feels that no one deserves to feel this way, especially not you

if you tell him you’re depressed and allude to possibly doing something horrible to yourself, his heart just can’t bear it

Jonathan especially feels awful he didn’t realize it sooner so he could help you

He’ll hold you close and whisper sweet things in your ear until you likely fall asleep against his broad chest

Jonathan’s first action after now knowing this is to get you to go to therapy, or take meds, or anything you need to get you out of the mindset

Josuke

When you call yourself things like ‘uncool’ or ‘dumb’ a few times it doesn’t bother him much at first. It didn’t seem to bother you about claiming those things so surely you must’ve been joking at the moment, he thinks

After a while it starts to dawn on him that you seem serious about the insults you call yourself. Eventually he has a little intervention and asks you what your deal is and if you’re feeling down about anything

He’s doesn’t understand what could bring you to this point, you’re so amazing to him

Its honestly a little upsetting to him when you keep repeating that you’re horrible. Not because he’s angry at you, but because he wants you to believe him when he’s telling you how great you are and how much you mean to him

If you tell him you’re thinking about ending your life, he’ll sharply inhale and go silent, his expression is heartbroken yet fearful. That’s the last thing he’d ever want to hear you say

He might tear up (but not completely like Jonathan) if you snap on him too hard and he’ll give you some space. About 30 minutes to an hour though he’ll be right back with some comforting material (tea, video games, a movie, etc.) and soft, reassuring words

Johnny

Johnny knows the difference between a simple jab and subtle self deprecation. Through experience unfortunately.

He only tolerates it a couple of times before calling you out on it.

Johnny understands how you feel, not completely but just enough to try and sufficiently reason with you without sounding unreasonable

He tenderly put his hands on your shoulders, telling you this isn’t a path you wanna take and that you deserve to be happy and feel good about yourself

If you disagree, it’ll likely start an argument, with him obviously trying to tell you that you should be easier on yourself

When you tell him you want to end your life, he’s hesitant to speak, but tries to pacify you with telling you it just isn’t worth it and how much he’d miss you, how much he needs you

If neither of you get too heated, it’ll likely end with him holding you and letting you cry to your heart’s content if you need to. He won’t judge no matter what.

DIO

Dio can recognize an individual with low self esteem within first meeting them

It hadn’t affected your relationship for a long time, until the traits of low confidence start to show in you as he always suspected

You’re his favorite human, and not to mention his lovely partner, so he’ll put forth an effort to try and reassure you about your abilities. He does have a way with words after all.

Both you and Dio know he can be almost cruelly honest with people at times, so he assumes you believe him fully when he caresses your face and tells you how wonderful and good you are to him

He assures you that he’ll stick by your side and help you through this rough time you’re going through.

If you tell him your having dark thoughts about harming yourself, he’ll make a note to watch over you more and remove anything that may encourage you to go through with it

Dio will caress your features and tell you how he can’t let such a beautiful soul of yours fall prey to this depression, and how he knows you have the potential to overcome it

#do yall like the new banner lol #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #jonathan joestar #jonathan joestar x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #josuke higashikata #johnny joestar #johnny joestar x reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #jjba x reader #jojo x reader

183 notes · View notes

themockingcrows · 3 years

Text

Faint

Chronic invisible illness sucks. Sometimes we stay quiet. Sometimes we cope by giving our favorite characters our condition to get some comfort. This fic is the latter case, wherein Rose Lalonde has Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and deals with everything that brings in order to spread a bit of awareness.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31556225

She’d thought it was normal, till she brought it up to the others. The chest pain, the exhaustion, the dizziness. The sense of running on an internal timer so precise that if she overstepped its bounds it would be time to collapse into the void itself. The darkness at the edges of her vision when she’d been upright too long, when she was stressed, when she was running, dancing.

She’d thought it was normal, that everyone just had more stamina than she did before they had the same symptoms occur.

“That’s not normal. You should maybe see a doctor!” they’d unanimously said. John had been concerned, Dave had been flippant with jokes but the worry was easy to detect, and Jade was forceful with her reasoning.

Rose had finally told her mother something was wrong, to spur a visit to the doctor. It was hard to explain at first, but when her guardian further questioned how she felt, how long she’d felt that way, it had nearly turned into a shouting match.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What if something is really wrong, Rosie! This isn’t something to just keep quiet!”

If she’d known it was abnormal, perhaps she would have mentioned it sooner. If she’d known. If she’d had a reason, she might have even been able to keep up with ballet instead of having to quit, feigning disinterest when it still made her heart sing. Violin was hard enough to deal with, with her arms raised the entire time. But ballet was just a no go anymore.

To the doctor, then, after a few weeks of edge of seat waiting. The family physician, who they’d known for years. Who didn’t believe her. Not at first, at least.

He’d checked her weight first thing, and finding her normal range, asked about her habits. While he spoke, he checked her joints and how stretchy she was, keeping her moving while talking till she was reeling on her feet before he let her lay down. Stupid old man. Her problem felt like it was in her chest or her head, not her joints! She’d always been plenty bendy, able to pull off poses ahead of her ballet class with minimal effort, the stretches never quite feeling like enough to really pull in her body in a satisfying way.

Head swimming till she lay flat on the exam table, arms crossed over her stomach absently, Rose continued to answer questions.

She was doing okay in school. She was just more tired than usual.

Yes, this had been happening for quite some time.

No, she’d fainted before, but only once. And only because she’d been up too long dancing. She didn’t miss the curious look the doctor gave her mother, the raised brow. He checked her abdomen, he checked her glands, looking for distension or rigidity, looking for clues. Nothing. Nothing that she could see, at least. Nothing that felt any different from normal. He continued to talk, keeping her lying down for a while, and checked her blood pressure while she rested, the pulse oximeter being placed on her opposite finger.

75bpm, 120/80. Everything normal, everything fine. He left the devices in place, however, and then did something strange.

“Could you stand up for me, Rose? Nice and straight, right here by the table.”

There were no questions this time to keep her occupied. Just two sets of eyes staring at her in the small room, watching as she felt the cold sweat start up on her forehead, the shake beginning in her limbs. It was stronger when she stood still, when she couldn’t prowl around. She felt nauseated as the sweat turned to a hot flash and started to soak into the fabric of her shirt, and with it came the panic as she saw the darkness at the corners of her vision.

“Can I sit down please.”

“Not yet, try to hold out a little longer,” the doctor coaxed, inflating the blood pressure cuff once more. She focused on the discomfort on her arm instead of the pounding in her chest and head, the increased breaths. Nausea rose in her throat, bile, bitter, salt from excess saliva.

“Can I sit down. Please,” she said again, not caring that it sounded like begging.

“Nearly there, just a moment longer.”

She didn’t have a moment. She felt her knees quaking, felt the floor rushing up to meet her, but gratefully felt her mother’s hands hurrying to catch her waist and balance her till the doctor finished his data gathering.

80/50. 145bpm.

The monster had a name now. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. There were hopes she’d just grow out of it, but there was a chance it might be long lasting. In her case it seemed to be at least partly linked to how bendy she was, how loose her skin felt, how stretchy it was, how easily she bruised. That, too, had a name. Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

What had been a slow appointment was suddenly moving very fast. Referrals were being made, appointments with different doctors at the big hospital in town, and paperwork was being handed to her mother in a thick stack. Informative pages, recommendations for diet, for exercises, safety precautions, warnings, risks. A whole new world was opening up below her and swallowing her whole, and Rose didn’t know how to feel about it.

One thing was certain, however.

She didn’t plan on telling her friends. Or anyone, for that matter.

It would be her little secret.

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

“...Is it going to hurt?” was Rose’s only question. She felt very small, much smaller than she’d felt at the clinic with her mother. The room here was bigger and more sterile, with strange looking machinery and electronics. She’d asked the same when she had her first EKG earlier, and had been relieved that the most painful part was having the gummy electrodes pulled back off after the painless test was performed. Something about being in a hospital gown and swinging her legs on a different looking exam table just made her feel even more fragile than the long walk through the building had. At least her mom was there with her.

“No, not at all. It might be a little uncomfortable, or a little cold, but there’s no pain,” promised a technician with a smile. She smiled back a little uncertainly, unconvinced. “All we’re going to do is get some pictures of your heart. I promise, an echocardiogram doesn’t hurt. It’s just a paddle with cold jelly, you’ll hold your breath when I tell you to and stay very still, and we’ll see how things look from different angles.”

“And you’ll tell me if I’m going to die or not.”

“No,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll be telling you if you have any issues with your heart valves or not.”

“Same difference.”

“You underestimate just how much the human body can handle before needing intervention,” he chuckled. “C’mon, legs up on the table and get laid back. I’m sorry for having to keep the shirt open, I know it’s embarrassing. Mom, you can see everything, yes?”

“Yes. Rosie if you need to hold my hand, I ca-”

“I’m fine, Mother. Thank you.”

“Well. If you change your mind, I’m right here.”

“Can you see the screen?” he asked Rose. She nodded, then went very still to watch the technician lift a bottle of gel and squeeze a splurt onto the paddle's end instead. “Right. Sorry this will be chilly, just try to bear with it. And-”

“Stay very still,” Rose finished for him as he opened the front of the gown and pressed the paddle to her chest. She hadn’t been watching the screen at first, but when it lit up with a fluttering white and gray form it was hard to ignore. She knew what it was, of course, though not what the technician was looking for. Seeing your own heart pushing blood around, flaring and calming as it cycled pulses, was kind of amazing. There it was, the only thing keeping her alive, and they were checking to see if any potential defects inside of its valves from the EDS were making her sick.

The procedure was quick enough. A roll here or there, a drop down section of the table for him to do further measurements underneath of her as she lay on her side, and soon enough she was done.

“What’s the verdict, am I dying,” Rose said, voice carefully calm and face deadpan. The papers from the physician had said this was a non-deadly condition, that neither of them would kill her, but the concept of damage to a heart valve of all things being real had brought out the morbid part of her brain.

“There’s a bit of a leak,” he admitted. “But your measurements are just fine and within normal ranges. I wouldn’t be too worried about it, but if you start feeling worse or new symptoms we might recheck within the next few years.”

Rose wiped off the gel with the offered cloth and covered back up while the technician spoke with her mother, the words flowing quick and easy as she asked questions and they discussed the findings. Rose herself stared at the blank screen for a moment before setting her hand over her heart, feeling the pulse, remembering how it had looked.

She was fine then.

All the more reason not to make anyone she knew worry.

She informed her friends that it had been a vitamin issue and that she was going to be just fine before changing the subject, getting swept up in conversations about games and comics and music all over again. Same as ever.

Same as always.

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

Treatment wasn’t much. Increased water consumption, and a stupid amount of salt. Compression stockings, when that alone wasn’t enough. Rose drank gatorade till she could smell it in her dreams, ate pickles and pretzels till salty foods lost their amusement and her mother had to get creative in the kitchen and with the ordering in catalog. Everything was salt and fluids, compression stockings just tight enough they gave her the will to live back. Thankfully they came in black and she could just pretend they were normal stockings, and for anyone just looking in passing, they would be just another part of her wardrobe.

Yet none of it was enough. The weakness persisted, the fatigue, and through it all that awful, stupid racing heart. If the sound of a beating heart could drive a man mad from beneath floorboards then, surely, the persistent throbbing in her ears and the pain in her chest from her own rushing tempo would be enough to drive her mad. Going to the grocery store made her sweat through her clothes, made her vision blur even as she clung to the cart for balance. More than once, she had to go find a deserted aisle to sit down on the floor in, legs stretched out in front of her, waiting for the worst of it to pass as she debated just how much she might regret laying down flat to hurry it along.

Rose assumed this was just how life was going to be. Stockings, salt, water, constantly living on an internal timer to get things done. Annoying, but not much of a burden. She could imagine living her life like this, one way or another. Others did it every day.

Then had come SBurb.

Fire from the sky and the end of the world, rushing, hurrying, breaking the bottle. She hadn’t been wearing her stockings for the day, but was grateful for the opportunities to sit, few and far between as they were. There was plenty reason for her heart to be beating out of her chest then; plenty of scary, inexplicably stressful things were happening. She had entered the medium with grim determination, and set about the task of destroying imps with a bit of glee.

She had to be quick in dispatching them, there was no alternative. Fainting around these things was unthinkable, and she had plenty of stress to get out with her knitting needles. Rose combined aggression with ballet and her own trained limberness for maneuvers that, in a normal situation, she’d never have reason to use.

It was thrilling.

It was-

Gasping and out of breath, Rose settled on her knees and held her chest after her latest kill, needing time to recover. To rest. It was like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open her lungs enough. Like she was drowning on dry land. She gagged, saliva thick and sticky from exertion and, somehow, early dehydration. Slowly, she flopped onto her back and threw her legs up against the wall, feeling the ache and throb as the pooled blood rushed back towards her torso and brain.

Maybe she should get her stockings before continuing, given she had no idea what to expect going forward…

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

The game up through getting to the meteor had been quite the experience. She’d been able to pace herself somewhat, exerting herself in bouts that she could control better once she’d gotten some thoroughly upgraded weaponry in hand. Now, godtiered and being able to fly, she found she was able to handle being upright longer than usual.

Well.

Mostly.

She still had an affinity for walking normally. Maybe it was because it let her track her internal timer better, a long ingrained pattern she was comfortable with. Maybe it was the fear of falling from height, knowing it wouldn’t kill her but that it would still hurt unless someone caught her. There was also the setback of getting enough fluids and salt.

Gatorade was too much to hope for, but water was doable at least. Salt as a base was also available, but drinking straight salt water would have been anything but subtle.

...Maybe it was time to be honest. Rose was fairly certain that Dave already had an idea something was up, having been around her for some time by then. He always seemed to be watching her carefully, and after a few conversations with Kanaya she’d walked in on, even Kanaya had begun to have a more cautious air in their interactions.

Would that just get worse, if she told everyone?

How would Vriska react to such a thing? Such a weakness? The Seer of Light, waylaid by darkness brought on by standing for too long, she could hear it now. Brought on by sitting upright too long, sometimes. It had progressed in ways that she was frustrated about, spending time reading and trying to figure out how to make compression stockings of the right elasticity out of her god tier outfit in her down time. A dress? Sure! Simple! A garment that would help her out without cutting off all circulation to her legs or being useless? Bit more difficult.

At least Kanaya was content to let her recline whenever she wanted. She never asked, never brought it up. Instead she welcomed the blonde head to her lap, the subtle tug on her hand that meant she was going to slide to sit on the ground against the wall for a time to watch the vast space they were traveling through.

Maybe she would just keep it quiet forever. Or, at least, till after their final battles were done. When there was time to rest, when there were doctors again, Gatorade or something similar, she could get this under control and go back to her plans of dealing with it like she had imagined on Earth. Whatever lay ahead of them could be handled.

She’d keep it quiet. It would be her little secret.

Till she’d fainted in front of everyone, at least.

Another argument had broken out between Karkat and Vriska, Terezi egging on from the side and Dave adding the occasional beatbox for effect much to everyone’s annoyance and amusement in equal measure. Rose and Kanaya were observing and commenting for the most part, following them all up the stairs, but the growing intensity of the clog meant that the foot traffic had come to a stop.

Moments ticked by, then minutes.

Rose felt the shake in her knees, the cold sweat on her brow starting up.

“Dear, are you quite alright? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” she promised with a smile, looking ahead at the group who took up the stairwell. Surely they’d move any moment. Any time now. Any second. They couldn’t argue forever, not even Karkat and Vriska on a bad day, it would end any time. She just needed to hold on, and then she’d be back upstairs with her book on the sofa, feet up, recovering stealthily yet again.

The argument dragged on, and the pain in her chest started up. Vision blurring, Rose turned her head to glance down the stairs, half turning. Maybe she could go back downstairs and use the restroom or something instead, buy time for them to move while having an excuse on hand so nobody would be suspicious.

“I’m-” she started to say.

Her legs buckled beneath her, and she knew no more.

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

“See, if you’d just moved your ass instead of backing up into the wall like a cornered meowbeast, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not like I pushed her! I don’t know who pushed her!”

“Nobody pushed her, she just collapsed, I was right there. We’ve been over this.”

“Well, why did she collapse then!”

“Has she been drinking or something?”

“No, not that I’m aware. She ate earlier, too.”

“Sleeping?”

“Plenty.”

Rose slowly opened her eyes and stared up quietly at the ceiling, the view from the floor at the bottom of the staircase. The argument had a new source now, the squabble more contained than before, but still lively. Kanaya was watching Terezi pull Karkat and Vriska physically apart like she wanted to jump in and do it herself, but she kept her cool hands on Rose’s arm instead, immobilized. Dave had a notebook he was using like a fan over her face, cooling her off, drying the remaining sweat on her brow. He stopped when he realized she was awake, setting it aside and pushing his shades up the bridge of his nose.

She knew that look. Worry. Suspicion. It made her stomach ache a bit with guilt.

“You good now?”

“...Yeah. I fell?”

“Swan dived face first for the concrete, more like.”

Kanaya’s head jerked her direction and she smiled broader, leaning down to hug Rose tight around the shoulders.

“I was so worried! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” she admitted, surprised. “How-”

“I’m quick,” Dave shrugged, glancing to the side. Kanaya pressed a kiss to her cheek before carefully helping her to sit upright. “Hey, yo, shut the fuck up, she’s awake now. Everyone can stop the blame game, new topic after a quick five.”

“Lalonde, what was that about!” Vriska said immediately. “Did you just trip over your own feet?”

“Kanaya said she collapsed,” Terezi sighed. “Not tripped.”

Karkat glowered, but crossed his arms and was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Thanks for not painting the floor with your thinkpan, we’ve got enough problems around here witho- UGH” he grunted, Terezi’s elbow making swift contact with his side, halting his contribution to the subject.

“Are you sick or something?” Terezi asked.

Rose furrowed her brow, looking around at everyone. Looking back to Dave, looking to Kanaya, both of whom briefly exchanged knowing glances. It appeared the jig was up. Now to just let the cat out of the bag properly so it would stop suffocating.

“I fainted,” Rose said.

“No fucking shit,” came Karkat’s helpful response.

“It’s. ...I’ve done it before,” Rose said, trying to measure her words, trying to figure out how to explain quickly not only to Dave but to members of an entirely different species. “On Earth I was sick. I’m still sick.”

“So we just need to get you medicine or something, right?” Dave said.

She shook her head.

“I’m already taking my medicine best I can.”

“Man, if you know how to make meds can you whip up some pepto or somethin’, because I think I’m gonna die if I don’t get hold of some before the next time we eat makeshift Alternian shit,” Dave said. Rose shook her head again.

“Water and salt.”

“What about it?” said Kanaya, rubbing Rose’s upper back when she still looked a bit woozy. Rose accepted the invitation and leaned into her shoulder, hugging her with one arm to give herself a bit more courage.

“That’s the medicine.”

“...I don’t follow.”

Rose groaned and dropped her head against Kanaya’s neck for a moment before sighing and straightening once more.

“I’ve got a condition called POTS.”

“Like-”

“No, not like fucking weed. It’s Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome.”

“What the fuck does all that mean? Are you contagious?” Karkat asked, getting another sharp elbow from Terezi, hard enough he slapped at her arm afterwards a few times in annoyance. “Will you knock that the fuck off?!”

“Don’t you think she would’ve mentioned something if she was?”

“SHE’S A FUCKING ALIEN! How do we know if it’s not contagious to US?” he argued, taking a quick step back to avoid yet another elbow coming his direction. Vriska caught him around the neck and scrubbed her knuckles deep against his scalp till he cringed.

“Preeeeeeeetty sure she would’ve said something that important before no- YOW!”

More than a little annoyed, Terezi yanked a section of Vriska’s hair till she released the thrashing Karkat, then quickly slapped a hand Karkat’s direction to keep him at bay.

“What’s it mean,” she said simply.

“It means my body is stupid and my brain doesn��t get enough blood to it when I’m upright. It all goes to my legs and can’t get back up to my head fast enough,” she said. “My heart races very badly and I feel like I’m dying and I get very weak. I get tired. I get sick. And if I’m not careful, I faint.”

“So it wasn’t a vitamin problem,” Dave mumbled. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

Kanaya frowned a bit, lifting a hand up to stroke a section of Rose’s bangs away from her face, to stroke down the side of her cheek with her thumb. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have watched out for you.”

“I didn’t want to hold anyone back,” Rose shrugged. “I thought I could handle it. And I didn’t want-”

“UGH great! Now we’ve got a whole person who’s useless to cope with!” Vriska shouted, rubbing her eyes with one hand.

“That,” Rose said flatly, more than a little annoyed.

“She’s not useless, she’s sick,” Dave said.

“SAME DIFFERENCE! It’s a weakness! A BIG weakness! We’re heading towards a huge fight and we can’t count on you at all now!”

Rose set her jaw. “I can handle myself. I just have to be quick an-”

“You can’t handle yourself, you just fell down the stairs from standing still! What if you collapse during battle, huh? What then? I’m sure as shit not sweeping in to save you, and we need all the god tier powers we can get to be FUNCTIONAL during a fight!” Vriska continued, yanking her hair free from Terezi’s hand to stalk closer, staring down where Rose sat, arms crossed. “What can you do? Ranged attacks while sitting down?”

Releasing Kanaya, Rose stood up quickly, immediately regretting it when her vision swam again. She braced herself and bent her knees before locking them in a wider stance for balance. It was a weak spot. A point of pride was that she’d come this far just fine as it was, and now that the cat was out of the bag her worst fears were coming true.

“Hey, easy, don’t go down again,” Dave said from behind her.

“Shut up, I’m fine!” Rose insisted. “What do you want me say, Vriska! That I promise I won’t collapse? You don’t know what I’m capable of in a fight! You don’t know what options I have on hand! Don’t discredit me just because I have this bullshit to deal with. If I can work around it, so can you. If you can’t then which of us is weaker in the end, me or you?”

It was spoken as a challenge, pure and simple. Tension was thick in the air as they stared each other down, Rose with her hands balled into fists, Vriska with crossed arms. Everyone was waiting for something to give, for the other shoe to drop.

“...Whatever,” Vriska muttered, the first to break position. She turned around and lifted her arms behind her head to stretch as she went up the stairs. “Humans are so fragile and booooooooring! Terezi, come help with dinner, I don’t know what to aim for this time.”

A collective breath was released. Terezi smirked a bit.

“That was pretty good, Lalonde. Normally she’d have kept going, but I think you got her in a corner now.”

“TEREZI, COME ON, I’M HUNGRY!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, keep your rumble spheres tethered!” she shouted, before turning with a laugh like broken glass to run up the stairs after her friend.

Karkat, alone with the trio, watched Terezi run off before looking back towards Rose. She shuddered, then quickly sat back down on the ground and flopped onto her back with a heavy sigh.

“I’m fine!” she was quick to say. “Just. Need to be down for a second. Just a second. Holy shit.”

“What, think you were gonna get into a catfight?” Dave asked, picking up the notebook again to sway over her face a few times just in case it was useful again.

“Yes!”

“Would’ve been funny,” he admitted.

“Would’ve been hilarious if this is what finally got us at each other’s throats,” she said sarcastically.

“How do you feel now that everyone knows what has been wrong?” Kanaya asked, stretching her legs out before scooting closer to Rose’s side and laying back as well. “Relieved?”

“Yes. ...Though. What if she’s right…?”

“First time for everything,” Dave shrugged. “Here, lift your heads up,” he instructed as he dropped the notebook and instead lifted his cape, scooting it in a wad beneath their heads. He settled opposite Rose and stretched out as well, one knee bent up so he could tap his foot occasionally, arms splayed out.

Karkat waited for a moment before Dave patted the open space in the circle, then came closer and flopped down as well, hands on his stomach.

“...So you’re SURE you’re not contagious.”

“Dude, with how often she swaps spit with Kanaya I’m pretty sure you’re safe just breathin’ the same air if she’s unaffected,” Dave pointed out.

“Well, good. ...Sorry for asking earlier,” he muttered. “I just didn’t know what to think! Lalonde being sick out of nowhere is-”

“It was rather obvious, if you watched her closely. Something was wrong even if I didn’t know what,” Kanaya said. Dave nodded as well, making Rose groan and cover her face with her hands.

“How obvious was I?”

“Real obvious,” Dave snorted. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got your back now, and we’ll have your back durin’ a fight. You know that.”

“I’ll slice anything that comes for you if you go down,” Karkat said helpfully. Given how much work he’d done hoping to be a threshcutioner before,

Kanaya reached for Rose’s hand as it came away from her face and gave it a squeeze. “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Rose sighed. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.”

She had backup now. And a while to think of how to explain everything to the others when they met up with them.

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

It felt like years ago, that final battle. Maybe because it had been years by then. It was kind of hard to keep track sometimes, really. She’d held her own, had backup, and they had all come out on top. They’d made a new world, populated it, let it grow and come back to live amongst everyone. She’d been hopeful that after all that, after all the advancements, there would be progress in her own disorders. Treatment options beyond salt and water, beyond stockings.

The fact there wasn’t, that it was still a chronic illness, that there was no magical cure in a special pill to take even after all of that, felt a bit like a slap in the face. Somehow, despite everything, having that bit of hope crushed had been enough to send her into a depression deep enough that it took months for friends and family to help pull her out of it.

There was no ‘better’. There was just coping. And she had to be okay with that.

She had options at least, thankfully. She could fly to get places faster than walking, even if she was on a harsher timer than before. She could drive. Her home was comfortable and easily accommodated a wheelchair that she could use outside of the home as well, half the time pushing herself along and the other half of the time being pushed by Kanaya when she got too tired. Life was good in many ways, even if there was no miracle to be had.

She was alive, married to the love of her life. She had friends and family surrounding her. She had aspirations for a long future, and hobbies that kept her plenty busy. It was enough for her.

When Kanaya leaned down behind her to kiss the side of her neck, sharp fangs barely there on her skin, Rose pulled the brakes on her chair and reached back to stroke Kanaya’s hair fondly. Her wife sat down beside her on the dock, overlooking the vast lake, and squinted out over the shimmering surface to make out where their friends were. A boat was heading this way and that trailing a water skier behind on a tow line, while two people flew above it keeping an eye on whoever was below kicking up wake behind them.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to participate?” Kanaya asked, amused when the skier went down into the water and was pulled up by the two flying lifeguards. “They said they had an innertube as well. You could sit and be towed.”

“Mmm. I’m fine,” Rose said with a smile. “Maybe next time, I don’t much feel like getting wet today. What about you? It looks plenty safe. Roxy and John wouldn’t let anyone drown.”

“I’d rather be near you,” she shrugged. “Perhaps we can have a turn in the boat instead later. We could take a tour around the lake without getting wet.”

“I love how your mind works,” Rose chuckled. She stretched a bit, then pushed the legs of her chair straight out, propping her legs straight out in front of her with a grateful sigh, pooled blood circulating somewhat easier again.

The skier was, apparently, Karkat. At least that’s what the shouting and cursing indicated as he struggled in the air with the duo holding him up safely. He dropped back into the lake with a splash, only to be carefully fished out again and deposited on the boat. Rose snorted a laugh before giggling at just how silly the situation looked from a distance, knowing she’d hear all about the details of it later from everyone involved. Kanaya looked at her with a soft smile before leaning against the side of the chair, nudging Rose’s leg till she stroked at her head and horns as one would pet a cat.

“I’m so glad to hear that sound…”

“Laughter? I’ve laughed a lot recently, haven’t I?” Rose asked, a little confused.

“Yes. You’ve been in such a good mood lately, compared to before. Every time I hear you laugh or see you smile it’s like sunshine.”

Rose leaned forward to press a kiss between Kanaya’s horns, making her wife hum softly, blissfully.

“You know just what to say to make an already good day better.”

Somehow, Rose felt, every day was just more proof that everything was going to be okay now.

((If you would like to learn more about POTS please visit this website for information!

http://www.dysautonomiainternational.org/page.php?ID=30))

#Homestuck #Rose Lalonde #chronic illness #pots #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #EDS #my fic

25 notes · View notes

thetorchwoodarchive · 3 years

Text

Gwen Focused Stories as Submitted by the Mods and Users of the Torchwood Archive

Everyone! Thank you so much for your submissions! Recs are under the cut!

As always, please mind the warnings and ratings listed on each individual story.

Feel free to reblog with additions!

Something Beautiful by Cyus (Gen | complete | 4,500 | PG)

After Torchwood, after Jack, Gwen lives her life, even as Jack comes back.

Domestic Disharmony by thirteeninafez (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 3163 | G)

In which Jack and Gwen get stuck in the Archives and discuss green milk, thermostats and Ianto Jones.

Side Note by Aliciajazmin (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 1027 | T)

A few months after her best friend's funeral, Gwen runs into Rhiannon while grocery shopping. Ianto's sister has some questions and Gwen has some things she needs to say to her.

Inevitability (and other hard truths) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 1236 | T)

There's a clock ticking down at Torchwood, and Gwen realizes she's the only one who hears it.

All Around Me are Familiar Faces by gwendolyncooper (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2602 | G)

Gwen Cooper wakes up in Jack Harkness' bed. Ianto Jones wakes up in Rhys Williams'. And they find themselves in each other's bodies. As close as they are, this might be a level too deep in their friendship.

Blueberry Knees by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 3878 | T)

If Ianto thought about it, the way Gwen’s illness progressed was rather like falling asleep. Slowly and surely, but then all at once.

He hadn’t noticed it at first - he still loathed himself for not recognizing that something might be wrong. But he hadn’t, no one had, so it slipped through, like little crumbs falling between the crack of their ancient sofa.

And there was nothing to be done about it.

Power Struggle by Prochytes (GwenTosh, Gen | complete | 1416 | T)

How Gwen ended up in charge by the start of Season Two, based on the premise that one should never assume Jack Harkness is joking.

Bad at Communication by engagemythrusters (JackIanto | complete | 1740 | G)

In which Gwen visits a hospital, where Jack and Ianto, respectively tired and high, are complete idiots.

The Hands on the Clock Keep on Ticking by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 10235 | M)

They all knew it could happen to anyone. They’d all seen the proof. Even if it happened to a miniscule amount of the population, it was still a possibility.

But they had grown complacent. They had forgotten that they too were also at the mercy of the Rift, that the Rift did not make an exception for those who knew its existence.

They had forgotten until they were faced with it themselves.

In which Gwen and Ianto get sent back to 1969 by the Rift.

Pastries, Avoidance Tactics, and a Bottle of Scotch by pocky_slash (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | 6220 | G)

In which Gwen said something she regrets, Ianto makes a poor dinner choice, Rhys offers sound advice, and Jack has a key. A different sort of "Meat" post-ep.

Children, Daleks and Mopeds: How Gwen Cooper Got Her Groove Back by paycheckgurl (Gwen&Jack, GwenRhys | complete | 9603 | T)

Following a disastrous shopping trip that put her at the center of an explosion, Gwen finds a little alien boy.

Or: The series of events in which Gwen acquired another child, had a much needed conversation with Jack, bought a moped, defeated a Dalek with a boxing glove, and learned that loving yourself and saving the world don’t need to be mutually exclusive.

A coda to Revolution of the Daleks where I explain why Gwen has a son all of a sudden.

I Don’t Know What to Think by aliciajazmin (GwenTosh | complete | 2637 | T)

Gwen and Tosh travel with the Doctor through time and space, taking a break from Torchwood. Gwen decides to bring along her pet rat Owen (not to be confused with Human Owen). Also, Gwen and Tosh are desperately in love with each other.

Lost Inside by Xennon (Gen | complete | 36,642 | T)

The team go in search of some smugglers.

A Vision Too Removed to Mention by Pocky_Slash (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 13920 | T)

In which Ianto is stuck in a time loop that feels more like hell.

Club Wales by Pocky_Slash (Gwen&Ianto | Series | 69,530 | G-T)

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

To the Waters and the Wilds by Violetmessages (GwenTosh, JackIanto | complete | 13190 | T)

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Tosh whirled around. She’d thought she was alone, she’d expected it.

Then she locked eyes with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, a woman who seemed to radiate an ethereal glow, a woman that emanated an otherworldly light.

Cold Pizza by Eberesche (GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 4767 | T)

With Jack missing and the Rift running the team ragged, Gwen's plans for a single night in are foiled.

Safe by DinoDina (GwenToshRhys, GwenRhys | complete | 1191 | G)

After the cannibals, Gwen doesn't go home with Owen. She rides back to Cardiff — back to Rhys — in an ambulance with Tosh.

Dead on Arrival by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 13582 | M)

Ianto Jones wakes up. The only problem is, he's certain he was dead.

You Won’t Be Seeing Us Today (You Won’t Be Seeing Us in Hell) by Beleriandings (GwenRhys, JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 11141 | T)

One day, Syriath took Gwen's voice. She should have realised Gwen wouldn't stand for that.

Girly Night In by Mathemagician (GwenTosh | complete | 1088 | T)

The girls and Ianto have a night in. Gwen figures something out about herself.

For the Torchwood Femslash Fest prompt "Sexual Identity"

This Earth is Empty Without You (But the Grave is Not) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 1036 | G)

Ianto Jones' funeral happens on a perfectly sunny day. Gwen hates every minute of it.

In a Polaroid Picture by innocent_until_proven_geeky (GwenTosh, GwenRhys, Gwen&Jack | complete | 2176 | G)

Gwen finds a photo of her and Tosh, and remembers.

Exit Protocol by Beleriandings (GwenTosh | complete | 6139 | G)

Not long after the deaths of Tosh and Owen, Gwen gets a message from an unnamed user on the Hub system. That really shouldn't happen. And yet, there it is.

To the Sticking Place by zephyras (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenTosh, MarthaMickey | complete | 96433 | M)

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

These Happy Days by Violetmessages (GwenRhys, JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto, GwenJackIantoRhys | series | 16,777 | G-T)

A series of non-chronological stories in which Ianto miraculously survives CoE in some fashion and Torchwood Three (plus Rhys and Anwen) settle down near the seaside.

Piece it Together by Beleriandings (JackIato, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 3442 | T)

Gwen realises that for all they talk, she's never asked Ianto about how he and Jack got together before. The answer is a lot more complicated than she was expecting.

Respite by Beleriandings (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2590 | G)

Even by their usual standards, Gwen thought it was absolutely fair to say it had been a rough week.

Dancing in the Midnight Garden by Fionn_sgeul (Gen | complete | 17660 | G)

In which Gwyneth the Maid and Gwen Cooper are the same person, Jack meets someone else whose life was completely turned around by the Doctor, and Torchwood is invaded by garden gnomes

Don’t You Know For Years You’ve Haunted Me by Virtualsilver (GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 12083 | T)

Gwen has inherited a recessive trait that has lurked in her ancestors' blood for generations: she is prescient. She can see flashes of where the timeline is heading and can feel when something - or someone - changes it.

She tries to use her foreknowledge to change events for the better, but securing the outcome of her interventions proves to be a challenge.

He Really Loves That Coat by DracoPendragon (JackIanto | complete | 585 | G)

It was quiet when Gwen entered the Hub that Monday morning. And the sight that greeted her was not one she’d expected, but wasn't one she minded seeing.

Sink Your Feet into the Mud (and I’ll Return) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 3404 | G)

What if she could bring Ianto back?

It’s a dangerous idea. It’s got the potential to be catastrophic. But Gwen is all out of options. She’s surrounded by the graves of the people she loves, abandoned, save for her husband, and she refuses to let her best friend go without a fight.

Painted in the Sand (To be Washed Away) by moonlightrhosyn (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys | complete | 1992 | T)

Gwen could still see their bodies every time she closed her eyes.

This is Me Trying by gwendolyncooper (GwenRhys, Gwen&Tosh, GwenOwen | WIP | 2524 | T)

“Sometimes you do stupid things to try and cope, to get a sense of normalcy, to make all this chaos and the Rift and space and aliens and the things we see make sense. Stupid, horrible things that should never have happened, and they come back ‘round to bite you again, and--” “What happened, Gwen?” Tosh’s prodding is soft and careful, but it speaks the glaring truth they both know - Gwen is stalling, talking around the issue at hand. Verdant eyes flash upwards with a startling intensity now, wide and filling with unshed tears again, the special agent’s plush lips pressed into a trembling line as she attempts to retain a semblance of control over her emotions. “I told Rhys about Owen.”

Fourty-Eight Hour Stand-Down by pocky_slash (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2740 | G)

"You and Ianto had a domestic," Gwen guesses. Jack scowls at her. In which Jack is kicked out, Gwen just wants a night off, Rhys buys milk, and Ianto clears table space.

Ret-comp (Retroactive Compensation) by reiley (LisaIanto | complete | 499 | T)

The phone. The one that could call any place or any time in the whole universe. The one Jack had locked away and warned them all that it was never to be used.

Any Other Day by Amand_R (JackIanto, JackGwen, GwenRhys | complete | 84055 | complete| NR)

Hey, this one time? At Torchwood? Gwen and Jack switched bodies and everything went pear-shaped.

Space Tripping (in spaaaaace!) by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, IantoOther, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 5115 |T)

Gwen and Ianto road trip across space - space trip, get high, shop, have a light existential crisis, face grief, and get massages - not all necessarily in that order.

Empty Chairs by princessoftheworlds (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 412 | G)

Gwen tends to Ianto's wound.

Forever, And What Comes After by Violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 10028 | T)

“Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”

In which Gwen and Ianto relax at a spa, Jack and Rhys attempt bad science, and Anwen is just along for the ride.

One In The Same by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys | Complete | 1638 | T)

Ianto, Gwen thinks. Her best friend would never turn her away, and maybe she can sleep on his couch for the night. Perhaps by the morning she’ll be okay again.

Wastin’ Away In Margaritaville by Paycheckgurl (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Jack | Complete | 1419 | T)

Jack’s bad coping mechanism is agreeing to be a surrogate for an alien spawn baby. Gwen’s is at the bottom of a bottle.

Big Finish: Expectant from Gwen’s POV

#event:gwen party #character:gwen cooper #mod:nik #chartrope:bamf gwen

44 notes · View notes

tartagilicious · 4 years

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Sunset Date (eng)

this date is amazing ugly sobbing but if this doesn’t post I’m rioting. also, this makes me wanna dance under the stars with lucien while listening to feel good by fromis_9 is that too much to ask, universe?

MC: the sweet and sour short ribs, black pepper beef tenderloin, boiled cabbage heart... the meal is almost done!

I checked the recipes on my mobile phone while checking on the dishes in the bento box. Recently, Lucien’s research institute is working on a new project. He stayed in the institute for several days and did not come home.

I studied a few new dishes in my free time, but I never had the opportunity to try them with him. So, I took advantage of the rest of the day to cook and made a bento. Of course, I was also planning to see him out of my own selfishness.

When I happily took a few quick photos of the bento, I marked “Professor Xu’s love bento” on the photos with cute fonts. When I was about to go out, I received a text message and opened it to see that Lucien sent a strange address.

MC: ?

Is this a mistake? I dialed Lucien’s phone doubtfully.

Lucien: Did you receive the address?

MC: Um, where is this?

Lucien: This is where I am now. I guessed that you would come to me for lunch.

MC: ???

MC: How did you know?

Lucien: Because… black pepper beef tenderloin, sweet and sour short ribs, and boiled cabbage heart.

MC: ...Lucien! Are you studying mind reading for your new project at the institute?

His shallow laughter came from the earpiece.

Lucien: The project sounds very interesting, but you seem to forget that my research field is brain science. If you want to know the answer, you can open the photo album now.

I hung up the call, opened my phone’s photo album, and a buffering icon appeared in the middle of the screen. After a few seconds, my photo album automatically updated a piece. I have never seen the picture before.

The photo shows an exclusive courtyard with a wooden log door frame and red brick wall, and a row of old-fashioned labour utensils are displayed at the foot of the wall. In the middle of the yard is a 28-brand bicycle, its style reminiscent of the 1970s.

And under the light of the noon sun, reflected on the wall is the shadow of a person. I recognise it almost at a glance as Lucien.

“Ding” my phone has received a text message.

Lucien: Do you know the answer now?

After Lucien’s reminder, I finally realised. Last week, there was a problem with my phone and I needed to use another cloud account for verification. So, I used Lucien’s account temporarily, but I must have forgotten to log out. In other words, during this period, our mobile phones were using the same cloud account, so the photo album was also in a shared state.

MC: Yeah…

On my way to the private courtyard with the bento box, I blame my own carelessness in my heart, while repeatedly confirming the appearance of the “inventory” inside the box. Lucien must have seen the recipe that I saved in the photo album, not even the photos taken of the box just now have been spared.

I sighed and knocked on my head a little, then I suddenly realised again. If our mobile phones have been synced for more than a week, that means that all the photos I took during that time…

I quickly send a text message to Lucien.

MC: Lucien, have you seen anything else in the album? What photos?

Lucien: For example?

MC: For example, something that impresses you…

Lucien: Are you saying that this subject is my photo?

My fingers flicked subconsciously as Lucien’s reply appeared on the screen.

Lucien: I forgot to say that next time, you can shoot with more integrity, that way I can cooperate with you on more poses.

He really!!

He often took pictures of himself reading books or doing experiments, but he didn’t take any others! This cunning man!

(translator’s note: the original translation refers to him as “a lion man”, basically saying that he’s sly and superior.)

When I arrived at the lane where the courtyard was located, I saw Lucien from a distance standing and waiting for me. I hurriedly raised my hand to him.

MC: Lucien, is your research tricky? Have you set aside the time to eat?

Lucien took the bento in my hand and looked at me with happy but tired eyes.

Lucien: It’s not too tricky. As for having good meals… if the standard is this bento, then i really can’t call any of them good meals.

He took my hand and leads me through the door. When I stand in the courtyard, the sense of precipitation of the years becomes stronger.

MC: How can you be in this place? Is it related to research?

Lucien: Well, this research project will conduct clinical trials here.

MC: This is actually a new research base?

Lucien: To be precise, it’s a temporary research base.

MC: What about the other people of the research institute?

Lucien: The study will officially start tomorrow, and today we gave them the day off.

MC: It turned out to be so, but how could the research base be chosen in a yard with such a sense of age?

Lucien didn’t answer. He took me to sit down at the square table in the courtyard.

Lucien: Based on the understanding of ___, I answered your question, but after that, your curiosity will only grow more questions. So, before this, let’s eat first. I’ll give you a good tour after we eat.

After supervising Lucien eating the lunch, he took me by the hand and walked into the second part of the courtyard. The style of the building is consistent with the courtyard, even more so seeing the rest of the architecture.

The dark grey rough floor exudes a faint smell of cement, and the green leather wall is painted with the four red characters “hard work”. The three classic furniture pieces restore the old texture and the rest of the daily necessities present also exude a strong sense of age.

Lucien: How do you feel?

MC: Although I obviously haven’t experienced this era, it seems as if i’ve really returned to the past.

Lucien: The research team here has spent a lot of time restoring it to seem like the 70s.

MC: I’m even more curious now that you mention it. What kind of research is it that you need to have a venue like this?

Lucien: It’s a study on the healthy brain of the elderly. For people with Alzheimer’s disease, or elderly with hidden risks of clinical depression.

MC: I’ve heard that there’s no effective treatment or medicine for these conditions, is that true?

Lucien: Well, Alzheimer’s disease can be said to be a serious challenge facing modern brain science research. Even this research can only focus on early intervention before illness, while observing the quantity and quality of brain cells.

MC: So, why do you want to restore this place to the 70s specifically?

Lucien: The brain of elderly people is often in a state of stagnation, so the brain will easily degenerate. The most memorable experiences of the elderly staying here are concentrated in the seventies, which is the most meaningful time of their lives.

Lucien: Putting them in a familiar environment to stimulate the brain is the basis of this research project.

MC: use memories to wake up the brain and prevent them from succumbing to sickness… that’s it. It would be nice if more people could know this method.

I looked around, and suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

MC: Lucien! Can I use my camera to record this research? This might attract more investors.

Lucien didn’t speak, he looked at me a little bit more and then smiled. Realising my offer was a bit abrupt, I quickly tried to change the topic.

MC: Though, it doesn’t matter if I can’t shoot. After all, this involves the confidentiality of research. But, if our memories can be recorded, this way, when we’re old, we’ll have more memories to look back on in these cases.

He remained silent, but the smile on his face was deeper.

MC: What happened? Did I say something wrong?

Lucien: No, if you want to shoot, I can ask the patient’s families for their opinions. But, I think they will agree, because what you want to do is also a very meaningful thing.

MC: I thought you would think that my idea was too bad to consider…

Lucien: I’m just happy. It turns out that you’ve already planned so far for our future.

After going through the entire building, Lucien took me to the backyard again. In the centre of the yard was a dense wisteria tree. There was a breeze in this early autumn afternoon, and the sun above also swept away most of the hot temperature.

The backyard shrouded by the wisteria flowers was concealed by a shady and drooping branch, swaying leisurely in the air but looking very comfortable. Obviously, it’s my first time coming here, but I feel a familiar sense of deja vu.

Lucien: What do you think?

MC: It feels weird to say it, but just for a moment, I felt that this scene was familiar.

Lucien followed my line of sight and looked at the branch of wisteria.

Lucien: On a scientific level, you must have visual experience. But I have a more romantic explanation. It may be that our souls snuck out in a dream, and then we met in a yard in the seventies.

He turned to look at me, his dark eyes deep like an exquisite pool of water.

Lucien: Maybe they were there and had a stable and slow life.

His voice is calm and determined, and his words fell to the bottom of my heart.

MC: Lu-Lucien, you’re seriously bluffing to me again…

Lucien didn’t seem to care about my disbelief, the pool in his eyes was still flowing with waves.

Lucien: If you don’t believe it, do you want to try it?

MC: What is there to try?

Lucien: Having a slow dream in the courtyard of the seventies.

MC: Like our souls, spend a lifetime in a dream?

Sure enough, I subconsciously believed Lucien’s words, but the initiator only smiled and nodded.

Lucien: “Life” is a subjective word, and how long a life is, is up to you to feel and decide. So as long as you want, we can spend our “life” here.

Maybe I was moved by Lucien’s romantic theory, or because I haven’t seen him for a long time, but either way, I eagerly agreed to his proposal.

MC: Since we’re going to live a slow life in the seventies today, let’s be more involved!

I took out headphones and my mobile phone and placed them on the stone table in the yard.

MC: I’m asking professor Xu to please confiscate these modern contrabands.

Lucien nodded knowingly, and took out his phone as I did.

Lucien: It seems we have to find something to seal them in the “future”.

As he said this, he found a wooden box and put all of our electronic products inside of it.

Lucien: Welcome to the seventies, silly girl.

The weak autumn sunlight in the room shone crookedly through the window like a painting waiting for us. Though, we don’t have the mind to appreciate it, only focusing on living in the slowed down time.

Lucien seems to have come prepared, and the activities proposed were endless. He taught me how to light a kerosene lamp and took me to try an old fashioned sewing machine. We played with fans leisurely together, and listened to the squeaky Suzhou Pingtan on the radio.

(translator’s note: suzhou pingtan is a traditional musical art in china)

Time seems to have really slowed down for us while we do a lot of things, but the sun outside is still mild and bright. After listening to a pingtan, I eagerly looked at Lucien

MC: Lucien, what should we do next?

Lucien: What do you want to do?

MC: May I decide?

Lucien: Well, I also want to know what you think of this slow life.

MC: Well… I can’t think of my answer at the moment.

Lucien: It’s okay, just let the flow happen. Rather than using your brain to think about what you want, it’s better to leave the feelings to your heart. This deliberate content doesn’t necessarily conform to the meaning of a slow life. What you feel currently is the most important.

MC: Then… can we sit in the sun longer? Is that too plain?

Lucien: I think it’s a good idea.

After getting Lucien’s affirmative answer, I also dreamed of sitting in the sun with him. Only soon, my beautiful fantasy was disillusioned, because we searched the entire yard and found that there was only one recliner.

Lucien and I stood under the wisteria frame in the backyard, looking at the narrow chair in front of us.

MC: Hey… how about you sit down first? We can take turns.

The moment I blurted it out, I felt like I said something silly again. I blushed and was about to fight for myself further, but he reached out and pulled me into his arms. Before I knew what he was going to do, Lucien grabbed the back of my waist and gently closed the distance, our warm breaths instantly intertwined

Before I could speak under his deep eyes, my centre of gravity suddenly fell and I was in a soft embrace. My eyes moved slightly down, and I found that we were sitting on the recliner at the same time. My legs had encircled his body without me knowing when.

The motion startled the recliner, and it shook slightly. I couldn’t find my balance for a while, and I subconsciously hooked onto Lucien’s neck.

MC: Lu-Lucien?

I struggled to stand up, but Lucien released the hands that were fixed on my waist, and I was forced to tighten my arms around his neck. There was a warm breath stagnated in the air between us. The suffocating sensation reminds me of the air above an asphalt road in the summer.

Lucien: It’s boring to be alone in the sun, I think two people would be better.

MC: There’s nothing boring about being in the sun…

Fearing that I would make him uncomfortable, I lightly held on to prevent myself from slumping into him.

Lucien: You can relax, this chair is enough to hold the weight of both of us.

MC: I-I’m very relaxed.

Lucien: Are you….

I heard his low and dull voice noise in my ears, and I hung my head even more as my face flushed. He stretched out a hand, pressed the knuckle of his right hand against my chin and gently lifted it up.

In the next second, a gentle and light kiss fell on my lips.

I instinctively closed my eyes and could only hear the beating of my heart in my head. Although it was only a soft kiss like a dragonfly’s, time seemed to slow down. When we finally separated again, it was really as if we had spent a lifetime in that moment.

Lucien: I can be sure that you are really relaxed now.

When I blushed and didn’t know how to react, Lucien’s cell phone began ringing in the wooden box. As if I had caught a life-saving straw, I stood up and started to go into the other room, his laughter coming from behind.

MC: Answer your phone, I’ll be in the bathroom!

Lucien: I know, I’ll finish up soon.

When I came out of the bathroom, Lucien’s call was just ending. He saw me coming and waved his phone apologetically.

Lucien: Sorry, ___. There’s a problem with the preparations of the study at the institute, and I need to return to discuss it with the research team.

MC: It’s ok! I’m very satisfied with your company for the whole afternoon.

After returning everything in the yard to its original position, I reluctantly took Lucien’s arm and prepared to leave with him. After spending almost the whole day with Lucien in the private courtyard, I feel a bit reluctant to give him up here. Perhaps seeing through my mood, Lucien stopped walking.

Lucien: Maybe we can slow down our departure?

Following his gaze, my eyes fell on the bicycle in the middle of the yard, the same one from his earlier picture to me.

MC: You mean, we can ride that?

Lucien: It doesn’t matter, I can find someone to send it back tomorrow.

Lucien stepped forward and patted the horizontal bar in front of the bike.

Lucien: It’s just that this time I still feel wrong, so ___ can sit here.

I couldn’t help but think of our experience of cycling in Canada. At that time, I was anxious to ride the bike, my hands and feet shaky.

(translator’s note: this is a reference to Lucien’s Autumn Date, available in EN)

Lucien: Want to revisit it?

Lucien supported the handlebars and body, his slender and powerful arms firmly supported the bicycle. I nodded and looked at his hand that was supporting the seat.

MC: I won’t be as anxious today as I was that time.

After confirming that I was sitting firmly, Lucien stepped on the pedals. He lifted his hand and wrapped me in his arms, a reassuring temperature stemming from my back.

MC: Because, I hope this road can be longer.

A white crescent moon took over the setting early, and the pink-ish purple sunset was like peach-flavoured candy. In the middle of the modern city, Lucien and I looked extremely out of place with our old-fashioned bicycle, and the angle of the sun stretched our shadows very long.

Our two shadows, they slowly inched towards the next day.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mr love queen’s choice #mlqc lucien #mr love queen’s choice lucien #spoilers #next is most likely kiro’s!

132 notes · View notes

jjba-hell · 3 years

Text

Revoked

Still late for day 2 but I am enjoying the hell out of these prompts. (Today’s prompt was sci-fi)

Trigger warnings for the death of the ice cream gays but lemme know if I missed anything else.

Summary: a weird mismatched team of busted up aliens and half-blood humans just dealing with some shit.

For the lovely: @lasquadraweek2021

“You should really just transfer to a new body Pros. Humans aren’t supposed to live this long, babe.”

You grumble probably more to yourself than to the man whose forearm you were tinkering in. Well... maybe tinkering wasn’t the word either. He needed another repair and honestly you can’t help but feel like Risotto only offered you the air-mattress in the ship because so many of these psychos have bio-tech they can’t afford to upkeep.

“Sure, I can’t afford a rewire but I can surely afford getting my brain transplanted in a new body.”

“Human bodies are so easy to grow though.” You peer up at him over your magnify glasses with a wriggle of eyebrows. “Fully grown in a quarter rotation? Come on I still have to wait another half rotation to buy a swimsuit let alone grow a body.”

Prosciutto flexed the hand you were working on to spite you but all you did was strap the wrist down and switch off the impulse circuit before getting up and walking toward the exit of the ship where the others were sprawled out in the soft baby blue grass of the planet you were hiding out at.

Melone’s gaze shot from laptop up as you kicked your untied boots from your feet and slid into the grass, barely hearing him as he asked “Any luck with Pros’s arm?”

“I can’t keep mending the same two wires that keep popping off. Its best we find a place that can handle Babyface’s software and get a new one.”

“Still not budging for just replacing the whole thing?” Formaggio asked from somewhere across the clearing.

Like he was one to talk- Akils like him grew back heads and limbs, there wasn’t exactly a need to know anything about biotech.

“Nope. Are all humans this stubborn?”

“I think its the half Megnu in him.” Illuso was the one to chirp in this time.

“That’s still not confirmed.” You sat back on your feet to try and spot your teammates.

“Well he won’t let me analyze.” Melone sighed- continuing to worry away at the clear glass screen that held all his designs.

Melone truly was a bit of a madman to you- he designed the entirety of his body on that simple glass tablet and yet couldn’t finish his face in time before the feds were on him for unethical medical practice- ironic considering he was only putting himself through the strain of fitting his brain into a piece of machinery. What his official titles were in his old field were beyond you.

“Pesci’s not all Scud and he’s not half as stubborn.” You commented and with a soft hum the team fell back into silence.

“Where’s Ris?”

“He’s in bed- that last jump took a toll on him.” Illuso finally rose up from the grass himself heading a bit further away from the clearing, probably wandering after Ghiacchio who was asked to take a lap after he froze off Formaggio’s finger.

You clambered up a few steps to find your captain with the old-fashioned two-way radio in his hand as he lay passed out on couch of the shared living room.

Risotto would rather be caught dead than caught like this so, with intent, you stepped up to take the radio out of his hand. He seemed to gently wake at your fingers prying the piece or equipment from his hand.

“Shit.” He grumbled. “How long-?”

“Ghiacchio’s not even back from his lap- don’t worry. Just head off before they catch you.”

And with a slight groan he rolled up and disappeared down the hallways to his bunk which sounded with an ungraceful “clunk” as he fell into the bed.

Your name got hollered with the slightest tone of desperation from Prosciutto and with that you were back doing your part in the team behind the scene.

“You’re a purebred?” Prosciutto had eventually asked after a few minutes of boredom at watching you weld wires back to the motherboard.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What am I? A dog?”

He seemed to swallow his words.

“Where do you think I’m from?” You tried to smooth it over.

“Caestea- at least your appearance would have you look like that.”

Another laugh. “I’m from Earth, Pros.”

His eyes widened. “Impossible.”

“Oh yeah. My parents weren’t exactly refugees but they are most certainly not human. Fuck knows what my genetic makeup looks like but thankfully I certainly age like a Caestean. You are all human, huh?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Not that there are many of us left.”

In a sense you felt bad for him. You’d seen photos of Earth long before it started to mimic its brother planet Mars but you rarely thought of how wickedly the planet must have lost its life before intergalactic intervention. Humans were strangely scared and selfish creatures but no one deserved to die because there was no clean water to drink.

You shook off the macabre though before closing up Pros’s arm and putting away the tools. “That should do for now but we really do need to think of a replacement in the near future.”

“Thanks.”

It was a half-assed thank you but it surely caught your attention. Pros was a little too prideful to give just anyone a thanks but nonetheless you returned the sentiment. “No problem.”

Outside the boys were fighting again- or rather Ghiacchio was arguing as Formaggio was pushing his buttons while Pesci grilled a rather obscenely colorful fish over the fire-in-tin.

“Oh just the person we needed to see.”

Getting clasped with two arms over the neck was bad enough but from Sorbet and Gelato, now that was trouble waiting to start.

“Oh gods, what do I have to offer this time.”

“Don’t be so serious!” Sorbet cooed darkly.

“We were just hoping you could help us out with the next target.” His boyfriend added.

If you could just roll your eyes back far enough.

“Wandering off from our captain’s orders doesn’t sound like something I’d want to get myself involved in.”

“Not even for a bionic manufacturer?”

“Or a healing bay, for the ship? Surely you could install those things no problem.”

Honestly it was hard not to fall for the stereotype that all Makzi’s do is play dirty and haggle like merchants but here you were, stuck between them and being tempted into breaking formation with them.

“And what would I have to lose?”

“Nothing much-“

“Maybe some face with Risotto.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You want me to convince him?”

“Exactly- he might actually consider something if it came out of your pretty mouth.”

“Or rather, if he could come in it.”

You took one step back and bowed out of the hold between the two of them. “Fucking sleezes. Your shit’s gonna get you killed, mark my words.”

“So its a no?”

“Its a fuck no, Sorbet. Vile comments aside, that shit is expensive, even dent-jobs sell for millions... that kind of money is too big a job for us to handle right now and stealing one even more. Get your heads out of your asses before you come up to me with more dumb shit, next time.”

And with that you slipped back beside Illuso as Pesci was grilling up the third fish for the night. Looking back at what you had said was not untrue. That night you were restless in your bunker above Formaggio- Illuso peering behind the sliding divider across the little hallway that ran between the bed bunks.

“Something on your conscience?”

“No.”

“You sure?” You nearly leapt out of skin as Formaggio’s forehead popped up just below your chin outside your divider. “You’ve turned and kicked like 10 times, babe.”

“Please don’t babe me.” You frown at him but you answered the gnawing feeling by asking. “Where are Sorbet and Gelato?”

“Probably in their bed.” Illuso answered as if there wasn’t a more logical answer.

“Wanna put money on it?” Your eyebrow raised.

“And catch them in the act? Daaamn you’re dirtier than I thought.”

“Come on then, 10 drinks at the next stop they’re not in their bunk.”

“Shit, I can’t miss on that opportunity.” Formaggio’s divider slid open all the way to allow him to plop with bare feet to the double bunks at the end of the hallway.” You and Illuso watched in trepidation as he knelt down and knocked. There was no answer save for Risotto’s stern frown behind the top divider making an appearance. “What do you want?”

“Are Sorbet and Gelato in there?” You piped up first.

The angry frown turned into concern as he slid out of his bunk to replace where Formaggio was. He slid the door open to reveal one big empty bed.

What you’d have given to be wrong. But instead the panic bit you all and soon you were messily slipping on boots and running around the ship to find the missing lovers.

Pesci checked the engine compartments he might have accidentally left open, Pros checked the storage while Risotto was seeing if he could track them on the radar. It was only when you were hoisted onto the roof by Formaggio that the dread set into your bones.

“Tell Ris to switch on the overhead console lights.”

You called back down below you. Part of you wished you didn’t... since all it did was put them on display.

It was a vile thing that made Risotto’s eyes grow darker than they already were and once dawn broke, you and Melone quietly put the bodies into the best makeshift body bags you could manage. The lake a few paces away was where you last saw those body bags.

After you left that pit stop you sat in silence in the communal meeting area, your legs flung over one of the armrests in your seat- staring blankly at the coffee table you’d nipped from a market not too long ago.

“So... what’s the plan?”

You asked at anyone who would listen.

“Do we go on as usual? Find their families?”

“Revenge?”

Your head turned to Prosciutto as he was enjoying one last drag of his cigarette.

“You’re brave.” You huffed a bit of laughter at the thought. The big boss and his cronies- the only real reason none of you strayed from Risotto’s orders was way up on a station so far up the intergalactic alliance ladder that you’d have a better shot at killing the king of Gnomia B908 and getting away with it.

“Why not?” Illuso was the one to back it. “Surely we could track the sick fucks that did it.”

“You’re thinking too simply.” Risotto grumbled over his fist. “They didn’t get themselves killed by accident. This was deliberate- a display not to challenge the higher ups.”

“Any idea what they were planning?” You sat up, propping your elbows onto your knees.

Risotto kindly pulled up their hidden plans- your name encircled in red a few times. They seemed to have had their eye on a biotech printer and medbay that was once used by the Boss himself.

“What’s the relevance of an old medbay?” Pros posed the question to you- Melone was up front with Formaggio.

“Medbays need to keep track of any irregularities in DNA to avoid any incompatibility issues. Its one of the few things that can’t be wiped because its burned into the drive. They were trying to expose the Boss’s identity.”

“And they were planning on risking us all in the process?”

You pointed at a little arrow shooting off your name once more. “They figured I could remove and replace the hard drive before anyone noticed.”

Your throat felt dry as you realized what that meant. Whoever this person was... if they could follow something as irrelevant as a used medbay to keep their tracks clean... chances are you were all, at best, being watched.

The thought must have been shared as Risotto didn’t breathe a word as he moved to the front of the ship and changed course to an unaffiliated vector you know damn well you’d probably be searched and cleansed for.

To no one’s surprise the pristine white towers blinded and no sooner than two seconds of coming into orbit of one of the bigger planets you were requested to land.

You stood beside you captain as the ship docked and you waited with your hands behind your head to greet the haz-mat team. “You must be pretty serious about this if you’re willing to get sit in their prison.”

He gazed down at you and with a deadpan tone simply said: “You’ve escaped, I’m certain you could do it again.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo part 5 #risotto nero #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #ghiaccio #whole gang’s here... more or less #lasquadraweek2021

3 notes · View notes

javajunkieao3 · 3 years

Text

Beth/Benny Fanfic: Being Alive - Part 7

For all their weeks in Kentucky, Benny and Beth hadn’t discussed returning to New York besides the tense conversations before he visited her high school chess students. After that, the conversation seemed to be tabled and Beth had been reluctant to bring it up, not wanting to push them into choppy waters, and also, somewhat selfishly, not wanting him to leave. Part of her was always afraid that if they went back to New York, he would never come back, just like she could never stay. But one morning, New York is pulled squarely back into focus when Benny says, “I have to go out there for a few days. I should be back by Monday.”

“Is everything okay?” she asks gingerly.

“It’s my mom. My brother called and said she’s been having some problems recently. So, I’m going to go down there and try to sort it out.”

Beth realizes that for all the time she’d known Benny, he hadn’t mentioned his family before. She wonders then if it was because she never asked, and was she supposed to ask? She also notices that he didn’t ask her to come with.

“Okay.” She hesitates before she asks, “Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

His words hurt more than she expected and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh, okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there.”

“You sure? Because it sort of sounds that way.”

Benny’s face softens and he says, “Beth, you should know by now that there isn’t anywhere that I don’t want you with me.”

“Then why is my going with you a bad idea?”

“The reason my brother called is to stage an intervention. My mom’s an alcoholic.”

Benny never mentioned this before, not even back during her drinking. She thinks then of how difficult it must have been to hear what was happening to her. Maybe it was better that he was out in New York then. She’d seen the haunted look in Harry Beltik’s eyes when he saw her and spoke of his own alcoholic father.

“I can handle it,” she says.

“I don’t want to put too much on you.”

“You couldn’t,” she says. “You’ve been there for me, Benny. Time and time again, you have been there for me. Let me be there for you.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

She nods. “I’ll tell you. But it won’t be too much. Let me help you.”

He takes a long pause before he says, “Okay.”

---

They fly out the next morning and take a cab down to his apartment. It had been so long since Beth had been there, and if anything, her memory had recalled the place as nicer than it actually was. She looked at the spot on the floor where the air mattress had been, marveling that she had actually slept on that dank floor for weeks on end.

“Reminiscing?” Benny asks, palming her waist as he stepped past her.

“I’m just thinking about how I should have made you take the air mattress.”

“We both know I wouldn’t have agreed to that.”

“And now?” she asks.

“Only if you’re on it with me.”

“When is your brother meeting us?”

Benny takes a hold of her wrist and checks the time on her watch. “He should be here soon.”

“Are you nervous?”

Benny shrugs, and she expected some quip about how Benny Watts didn’t do nervous. Instead, he rakes his fingers through his hair and says, “All we can do is ask her to get help. Beyond that…”

“I know.”

And she does, more than most. Benny looks at her worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay doing this?”

The answer is yes, but before she can tell him there’s a knock on the door. Benny opens the door and greets his brother. It’s like looking at an abstract painting of Benny. The similarities are there, but stretched and pulled out of dimension. She steps forward to say hello, and he grumbles to Benny, “Why is she here?”

“Don’t start, Cal.”

“This is a family thing.”

“Beth is my family,” Benny says in a hard voice.

Beth feels a certain rush at his words, but its tempered by the boys’ continued bickering. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for her to come.

“You really think Mom would want someone other than us to see her right now?”

“Mom is probably blitzed out of her mind right now. She won’t even remember who saw her.”

Benny’s wrong. Even in Beth’s drunkest state, she still remembered the people she saw. The calls she ignored. Maybe not right away, but they all had a way of creeping back. Usually in the middle of the night while she stared up at the ceiling, debating whether or not to take a third or fourth green pill.

“That’s not the point,” Cal says.

“I can stay here,” Beth offers.

“You don’t have to do that,” Benny says, glaring at his brother. She steps forward and puts her hand on his arm. “I don’t want to make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Benny swallows hard and from the conflict in his eyes she can tell that as much as he had tried to give her an out before, he wanted her there. He needed her. She squeezes his arm and looks over at Cal.

“Last year, I was addicted to pills and alcohol. I’m not sure how bad it is with your mom, but I’m pretty sure wherever she is, I was there at some point. Maybe I can help.”

Cal holds her gaze before he looks to Benny and says, “I thought all that Freud stuff was bullshit, but you really do end up with your mother, huh?”

Benny shakes his head and says, “Fuck off, Cal.”

“She can come.”

----

It’s about an hour’s drive out to where Benny and Cal grew up, and the atmosphere can only be described as tense. The scene in Benny’s apartment clearly demonstrated that he had a complicated relationship with his brother, and during the drive, Beth felt like somewhat of a referee between them. It was a role that her personality made her particularly ill-equipped to play.

Benny parks the car in front of a tidy looing Tudor house. Thinking of her own past, Beth notes that Benny’s mother at least is well enough to remember to take care of the lawn. They walk up and Cal pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the front door. The smell hits them immediately, and Beth knows it intimately. While the two men recoil, Beth feels a lurch of yearning.

“Mom?” Benny calls out. “It’s Cal and me.”

They walk through the house slowly. The kitchen is messy with dishes piled in the sink. She spots a half-finished bottle of wine, but no wine glasses. Makes sense, Beth thinks. At a certain point, the glass just becomes a hindrance to the task at hand. The living room is in a similar state of disarray. She can feel Benny grow increasingly tense beside her, and it only grows when they find the bedroom empty. But, Beth knows where to find her.

“Fuck,” Benny breathes out. His mother is asleep fully dressed in the bathtub.

“Why the hell would she be in the bathtub?” Cal says, and his confusion distracts Beth because the choice makes perfect sense to her. The coolness of the marble against hot skin. The way you sink into the basin, feeling yourself contained at all four corners as the world spins out of focus.

Benny strides past her and crouches in front of the bathtub. He’s all action, which she knows is an ineffective tool against the inertia of drunkenness, but maybe it can work this time. “Mom. Mom, wake up.”

The older woman stirs, her eyes bleary as she gazes up at her son. “Benjamin?”

“Mom, you need to get up,” Cal says forcefully. Everything about him had been forceful since Beth met him.

“Cool down,” Benny says in a tight voice. “Give her a moment.”

The woman’s eyes shift to Beth and she says, “Who are you?”

“I’m Beth.” After a pause she adds, “It helps to shift to your knees first.”

“What?”

“Getting out of the tub. It’s easier to shift to your knees first. You have better balance.”

It takes time for Mrs. Watts to process what Beth said, but then she clumsily leans forward and pulls her knees beneath her. She stands slowly, her sons each taking one arm. They maneuver her down the stairs with effort and then the talk begins. You’re hurting yourself. We’re worried. You’re out of control. All of it’s wrong, but of course, they don’t know that. How could they? Beth stays mostly out of the conversation, washing the dishes in the sink. Behind her, Mrs. Watts insists, “I’m fine. I just had a little too much last night.”

“Mom, we found you in the bathroom,” Cal says.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Beth hears the hardness in her voice and knows that they won’t change her mind today. But they continue to try, Beth drying the dishes and stacking them quietly next to the sink. When she’s finished she turns around, her heart breaking when she sees Benny sitting next to his mother. He pulled the chair close and he’s leaning forward earnestly as he speaks. Beth places the dishrag on the counter and presses her back against the cool granite.

“I know what you’re feeling,” she says in a low voice.

Mrs. Watts looks up at her and smiles unkindly. “Oh, you do?”

“I do. Right now, you’re feeling hungover. But, it’s the other feeling. The stillness. The world has so much noise, but after a certain point, everything goes still and all you can hear is the beating of your heart. But by that point you don’t remember that you can ruin it, so you drink more, and then you create your own sort of noise. Your heartbeat is too loud. Everything is too loud. So, you drink more to drown it out until you either get sick or pass out. And then you start it again.”

“Who are you again?” Mrs. Watts asks. Her voice is so soft that it’s almost a whisper.

“I’m like you.”

---

Ultimately, Mrs. Watts refuses any help and summarily throws her children, and Beth, out of her house. Cal tries to go back in, but Benny grabs his arm and says, “It’s no use. Today wasn’t the day.” Beth can see the worry in his eyes, and she thinks then that maybe Cal’s forcefulness had just been a way to hide the gnawing fear.

“We’ll try again later,” Benny tells his brother.

---

Back at the apartment, Benny asks Beth if she would mind having some people over that night. This was one of the things that Beth never understood about Benny. She never felt comfortable in a crowd, but with Benny, it was where he thrived. She still remembered the first time she saw him, sitting there in his leather duster and hat surrounded by people.

“I don’t mind,” she says.

A few hours later, she’s playing simultaneous chess games with Benny, Levetov and Wexler. Cleo watches from the side, as usual, puffing away at her cigarette. She and Cleo greeted each other as they always did, but Beth felt part of herself withdrawn around her. Beth didn’t entirely blame Cleo for what happened in Paris, but part of her could not help thinking that if Cleo had never showed up in Paris, she would have won that game. She isn’t naive enough to think that the drinking wouldn’t have happened at some point, but it wouldn’t have happened then.

When Beth is finished with the games – she wins them all – she goes into the kitchen to put together something for them to eat. Cleo comes up to her, pressing the smoldering edge of her cigarette into an ashtray on the counter.

“I always love watching you trounce them.”

Beth doesn’t respond, because she doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s good to see you,” Cleo says.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“I can’t believe the last time we saw each other was in Paris. That feels like practically a lifetime away.”

Beth nods. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

There is another stretch of silence, and Cleo lights another cigarette. She takes a long drag, the plume of smoke leaving her mouth like an elongated sigh.

“I’m sorry that I made you drink.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Beth says. “I could have stayed in my room. I chose to meet you.”

“I didn’t know about…” she takes another drag from her cigarette. “Anyway, Benny was pretty agnry when I told him we met up. He wouldn’t talk to me for months after that.”

Beth glances over her shoulder at Benny and sees that he’s watching them. His eyes are asking her a question and she nods slightly.

“It’s in the past,” Beth says, turning her attention back to Cleo. And with that, she feels herself release the resentment she had held since sitting across from Borgov in that gilded room, sweat dotting her hairline. It truly was in the past, and what did it matter? She got sober. She beat Borgov. It all worked out in the end, even with the detours.

Cleo grins hesitantly and Beth returns the gesture.

“Hey, how’s the food coming along over there?” Wexler calls out.

“Keep your pants on,” Cleo calls back, eyes sparkling. “The women are talking right now. Your food can wait.”

----

Cleo and the boys leave around one in the morning and Beth and Benny play one more game of chess – he wins and she blames it on the hour – and then go to bed. The next morning, she wakes up to an empty bed. The apartment is cold and she puts on Benny’s robe, wrapping it tightly around her small frame. She begins to walk out of the bedroom but stops at the doorway. Benny is at the kitchen table with his back to the bedroom. She can tell he didn’t hear her wakeup because his shoulders are tense, his movements are short and jerky as he takes a sip of coffee and puts the mug back down on the table. She walks out and she can tell when he hears her because he rearranges his body, giving her an easy grin.

“Morning.”

“Good morning,” she says, sitting next to him.

“There’s coffee in the pot.”

“I don’t need coffee right now.”

“Okay.”

His body goes tense again. “Benny-“

“I don’t think I can go back to Kentucky right now.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“My mom needs help and I can’t put that all on Cal.”

“I understand. I can stay here for a few weeks.”

“I don’t think it will be a few weeks.” His hand tightens around the mug. “She’s really bad, Beth. She was never this bad before-“

He stops himself and she fills in, “Before you came to Kentucky.”

He nods. “I checked in more. I think it helped.”

“What about Cal?”

“They never had as close of a relationship.”

Beth nods quietly. “I’ll stay here as long as I can and then we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry, Beth.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Beth says. She thinks of Alma and how she would have done anything to change what happened in Mexico City. “She’s your mother.”

Benny takes her hand and kisses it. “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with someone like you.”

�� “It’s the hair.”

“I should have tipped my barber more then.”

“You actually went to a barber? I always just imagined you in your bathroom with kitchen scissors.”

He grins and leans in to kiss her. He stays close, forehead pressed to hers and murmurs, “We’ll get through this.”

He says it like a statement, but Beth knows him well enough to read the underlying question. It’s a rare show of vulnerability, and Beth wraps her arms around him, pressing a kiss just under his ear. “Yes. We’ll get through this.”

#the queen's gambit #fanfiction #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #Beth Harmon x Benny Watts #post-series #being alive #Cleo #Wexler #Levetov

21 notes · View notes

drangues · 4 years

Text

Impervious

The Armed Detective Agency was in something of a chaotic frenzy.

This, in and of itself, was not anything new- Day in and out, if one listened hard enough, they could hear the infuriated screams of one Kunikida Doppo as he frantically chased after his coworkers in a futile attempt to get them to complete whatever paperwork they were avoiding that day. Hearing the terrified screams of the patients- Or perhaps, the victims- Of one Yosano Akiko’s medical practices also wasn’t too out of the norm, for the area.

What was out of the norm was the genuinely fearful air about the workers of the Agency- Every single one of them was rushed, in some way, and they all bore a frenzied energy that seemed to refuse the idea of sitting still.

And if one looked into the Agency’s office space, they’d find the reason why.

xxx—xxx—xxx

There was not a single member of the Armed Detective Agency that was having a good day, and it wasn’t even in the “we’ll laugh about this later!” way that Dazai Osamu liked to torment his coworkers with. To be fair, the man himself was hardly in the mood to be pulling pranks and making a mockery of everyone- And it was all for one simple reason.

Nakajima Atsushi had gone missing.

He wasn’t sick or calling out of work for some other reason, because Izumi Kyōka had seen him before she left their shared apartment, Kunikida had called to make certain that he wasn’t feeling ill and had forgotten to notify them, and Dazai had even broken into the apartment (without asking Kyōka) after all was said and done, just to double check.

He wasn’t lost in the depths of Yokohama, because Miyazawa Kenji and the Tanizaki siblings, Jun’ichirō and Naomi, had been combing through the city on foot to make sure he hadn’t gotten sucked into any trouble, and Tayama Katai has been looking through the security records in every available place, both legally and illegally, just to cover all their bases.

He wasn’t in the custody of the Port Mafia, which they admittedly only knew because at least three separate people would have sent a message to gloat about having captured the weretiger.

(Also, Dazai had not-so-secretly pulled some of his older strings and broken out a few threats of dismemberment, but that was neither here nor there.)

No one knew where the white-haired male had gone, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that someone outside of the usual suspects had interfered in their lives.

Now if only they knew who the hell this new subject was.

xxx—xxx—xxx

When he opened his eyes, it became clear to Atsushi that something had gone very wrong between Point A and Point B on his way to work.

Admittedly, the day had started off somewhat badly to begin with- Kyōka has dropped the breakfast crêpe he’d made her on her way out the door, so he’d promised to make her a new one while she went on ahead. Then, once he’d finished with it, he’d realized that he was late, and that he was certain to get an earful from Kunikida about it. So he’d stepped up the pace and started running for the Agency, and then-

And then-

And then what?

He… Remembers, somewhat vaguely, someone stopping him as he ran. They wanted something, he thinks. Then… Nothing. The last thing he remembered seeing was-

Ah, he thinks, somewhat dully, I dropped the crêpe.

It wasn’t actually that big of an issue, all things considered- Clearly, he’d been kidnapped- And yet, that’s what stuck out at him. That’s what he remembered.

How stupid.

You couldn’t have remembered something actually useful? Your captor’s face, perhaps? Your surroundings?

Useless, awful beast-

Atsushi breathed in. Breathed out. Not right now. He couldn’t handle hallucinations right now. He needed to think. Whoever took him had to want something, right? Something from the Agency?

But what, and why-

Creeeaaak.

The door opens, slowly and loudly, and for the first time, he realized that he was, in fact in an inclosed space- He just hadn’t thought to use his senses to confirm it. He isn’t wearing a blindfold, but the light is flickering and dull- Certainly dim enough to offset anyone else, if they’d been caught. The air is stale, too, an old kind of scent that makes him think of earth and dirt- Underground, then. Maybe.

How would you know? You can barely even function as a detective on a normal day, much less when you’ve been taken by someone.

Should’ve left you to die in a ditch.

Should’ve let you starve.

Should’ve left you rotting in the basement-

With a shaky sigh, Atsushi manages to ignore the words that have always haunted him, and the figure of a man standing just at the corners of his vision. Instead, he takes in his captor.

They’re taller- Taller than him, anyways- With messy, frantically rumpled brown hair and wild, dark brown eyes. He looks like he just rolled out of bed- Or like he’s been too worked up to take care of himself.

Atsushi catches a whiff of his scent and immediately decides its the latter.

He doesn’t… Register everything the man says- He’s still groggy from being unconscious, and there’s a distractingly sickening pit in his stomach that gets deeper the more this man talks.

Dangerous.

Run.

Stay away.

Run

Run.

Run!

And it’s only as the man tightens his restraints and lets out an unhinged laugh that Atsushi realizes, with a dullness that only comes from experience-

Oh.

There’s a nail above his foot, and a few more set aside.

His captor raises a hammer.

I’ve seen your kind before.

Atsushi doesn’t scream.

xxx—xxx—xxx

It takes them four days, some intense virtual searching from Katai, and the intervention of Edogawa Ranpo (Who had been away on a mission for the Agency for the first three days, and who they hadn’t been able to contact) for the Agency to realize when Atsushi was taken, who took him, and where he might be at the moment.

Most alarmingly, alongside this information, they discover what might be happening to the weretiger while they tried to find him.

Hanmura Ryō was a man with an extensive criminal history, and the connections to make sure he never really had to suffer for it. He was well know for kidnapping and torturing people- Usually, those people are between the ages of seventeen and twenty one, and they mostly had silver or white hair. This torture could apparently range from a single day to a month, and he’d initially killed his victims after becoming bored of them.

Then his connections had proven to be powerful enough to keep him from facing any real consequences, and he took to leaving his victims alive after he was done with them- A last sort of mockery on their inability to do anything to him.

Needless to say, this information only worked the Agency up even further.

After all, Atsushi, as far as they were aware, had never really had any experience with being tortured- Which wasn’t to say that they’d be alright if he did have experience with it, but it made them worried that it would break him irreparably.

(Of course, unknown to them- Or perhaps, ignored by them- Atsushi did, in fact, have experience in that field.

It wasn’t his fault they didn’t believe him.)

Luckily, it only took a few more minutes of digging from Katai (Minutes filled with some very colorful threats from Dazai, and a distinctly murderous feeling from Kyōka) to narrow down the kidnapper’s location- And, with any luck, it will be Atsushi’s location, as well.

It’s Dazai, Yosano, and Kunikida that end up getting in the car to go on their rescue mission.

(Kyōka had wanted to go, but Fukuzawa Yukichi had very firmly put his foot down, regardless of her past experiences, and told her that Atsushi would much rather have the first face he sees upon returning be that of his little sister.

She was now waiting very stubbornly by the door to be exactly that, but he’d take what he could get.)

They just hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

xxx—xxx—xxx

Atsushi doesn’t know how long it’s been, exactly, but he does know that he’s… Surprised? At how little this is all affecting him.

Oh, don’t misunderstand- He’s terrified out of his mind at being in a place that he never asked to be in, that’s so similar to a place he hated (Hates? Hated? Dazai and Jun’ichirō had made things so confusing…). He’s terrified that he can’t bring himself to use his Ability in such a place. He’s terrified that the Agency might not come for him- Because they can’t? Or worse, because they don’t want to.

But- While the nails going up and down his arms and his legs hurt- The torture itself isn’t getting to him. Oh, sure, the hot pokers that his captor had shoved in his gut hurt something awful, and getting his bones broken, only for them to heal, was an… Interesting experience, but.

But this wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. If anything, it was tame in comparison.

The man hasn’t even tried to sew his mouth shut, like one of the Sister had when he was a child. He isn’t being forced to do labor while injured. There’s blood- His blood- But he isn’t being forced to clean it up. Words on his own worthlessness as a human being aren’t being forced into his head, day in and day out.

Well, they are being forced there, but he isn’t sure if a hallucination counts- It isn’t anything new, after all.

It hurts- Everything the man does hurts. His body aches, and he knows that, without Byakko, he’d be irreparably broken, physically speaking.

But he’s used to this sort of thing. “This sort of thing” is one of his earliest memories.

His captor screams, frustration coating his voice as he kicks Atsushi’s chair down. The pokers twist in their wounds, making him wince, but he still doesn’t make much of a sound at the feeling.

Breath in, breath out.

The man shrieks again, foot coming down on his spine with an audible crack for what must be the fifth time.

Remember- What’s better than being alive?

xxx—xxx—xxx

It doesn’t take all that long for the trio to arrive at their location- A fairly normal house, all things considered, if somewhat rundown and a bit out of date. The key feature is, of course, the basement they’re almost entirely certain is holding Atsushi.

(Everyone hopes that’s where he is, at least. They’re pretty sure that Dazai will actually go on a killing spree if it isn’t- And they don’t think they’d stop him.)

The entire building is silent upon initial observation, though, and none of them are quite sure how to feel about that.

Is he okay?

Is he gagged?

Is he dead is he dead is he-

Yosano enters first, and Dazai would complain if he didn’t know it was to give her quick access to Atsushi if he had a fatal injury. (Also, she was generally a badass, but that’s another story, entirely.) The two men follow behind, all three quiet as they scan the first room for anything potentially alarming.

There isn’t much, really. Just some dull, ratty carpets, thrown over the floor in haste, and cracking wallpaper.

Also, there’s a padlocked door at the far end, and they could’ve sworn there was screaming of some sort.

It doesn’t take much more than that for them to break down the offending door, which was apparently soundproofed somehow, because the screaming, while still indistinct, became much louder without it. In fact, the screaming itself didn’t even stop at the noise of the door falling.

They take the stairs two at a time, with the exception of Dazai, who simply skips walking down entirely to throw himself at the bottom, hitting the floor in a neat roll as he gets back up.

All three of them get weapons out, turning to face the source of the noise.

None of them were quite expecting what they saw.

xxx—xxx—xxx

Atsushi doesn’t know what he did to make his captor so mad, but he’s kind of wishing he hadn’t done it, regardless.

The man will. Not. Stop. Screaming.

For someone with sensitive ears, like Atsushi, it’s hardly a pleasant experience, and he isn’t entirely certain what he’s yelling about in the first place- Wasn’t he the kidnapped one, here?

He shifted again, causing the plethora of nails, pokers, and stakes that his captor and pressed into his body to tug at him uncomfortably- Any bruises created from the beatings he’d been given had long since healed, much to the man’s ire, and he’d eventually chosen to keep going with the only things that left lasting marks.

(That they only left lasting marks because he wouldn’t remove them was ignored, apparently.)

His head fell back against the dirt floor he’d been laying on ever since the man had knocked over the chair that was holding him.

You deserve this.

Weak. Useless. Mindless.

It’s your own fault, couldn’t even hear him coming-

Monster monster monster monster-

He shut his eyes, trying to block out the voices hissing in his ears- But concentrating was a lot harder with the hunger twisting in his gut. His captor hardly felt the need to feed him, after all.

A foot lashed out, driving a trio of nails on his collarbone deeper into his body, and he choked at the sensation.

It still wasn’t a scream, though, and the man snarled, foot reeling back to repeat his actions-

Thu-thud thu-thud thu-thud-

THUMP.

If he’d been using them, Atsushi’s tiger ears would’ve twitched at the noises- As it stood, he simply raised his head, attempting to peer into the front of the room, where his captor typically used as his entrance and exit.

He blinked.

To be fair, he didn’t think the man was expecting the sight behind him, either, if the look on his face as he twisted around was any indication.

Behind him stood Dazai Osamu, Yosano Akiko, and Kunikida Doppo of the Armed Detective Agency.

And they did not look happy.

xxx—xxx—xxx

When they found their missing coworker, they’d expected blood- Lots of blood, to be honest. Broken bones, screaming, the whole nine yards- And they technically got that.

They just. Weren’t expecting the screaming to come from Hanmura.

Oh, Atsushi was clearly in pain, sure- His eyes were glassy, and his breathing was far to rapid for their comfort- But he wasn’t screaming or cowering, as they were afraid he’d be.

By all rights, he seemed almost… Used to this.

Had they still been too late? They’d moved as fast as they could-

Had he broken completely?

Was he just stronger than they thought-

God, they hoped he was stronger than they thought he would be-

It takes them only a moment to regain their bearings, and within seconds, Dazai has shot Hanmura in both kneecaps with pinpoint accuracy, with Kunikida moving in to fully restrain him a moment later. Yosano, meanwhile, had immediately moved to Atsushi’s side, carefully removing him from his restraints with some quickly applied bolt cutters and lock picks.

After that, it doesn’t take long at all for her to begin examining one of her newest coworkers- Senior only to Kyōka, really. With as much care as can be afforded, she begins checking the wounds around every intrusion to his body before removing them and allowing the tiger to do its work.

Better safe than sorry, she thinks. Super healing or no, if infection had set in-

She pushes the thought aside, only really intervening in the healing itself to remove any cauterized areas- The fucker had used heated pokers at some point, then.

How lovely.

(And maybe she would typically be more sadistic, but even she has her limits- And she won’t make things worse for Atsushi after he’d just spent four days being tortured.)

Luckily, it takes only five minutes for her to remove all of the nails and stakes and pokers that had been shoved in the silver-haired male’s body, and soon enough, she’s able to help him to his feet, though he’s a bit unsteady, and far, far too light.

(He probably hadn’t been fed at all, and she sees Dazai stomp a foot down on one of Hanmura’s now-broken kneecaps.

Good.)

Once he’s up, she steps aside and let’s Dazai hold Atsushi, instead- The man has been worried out of his mind, after all, and she can’t say she blames him.

True to expectations, Dazai immediately wraps an arm around Atsushi’s back to steady him again before pressing his face into his neck in a sort of half-hug, and after some rather impressive, nonverbal back-and-forth, he convinces him to at least get on his back so that he doesn’t have to walk too much.

(Healed or no, the man had still be starved. So what if he wanted to take care of him a little bit?)

A mutual look between all three rescuers tells them that they’ll talk about this later- About why Atsushi seemed so unaffected, and about how the hell to make sure that Hanmura stays down- But for now, they have more important things to focus on.

It was time to go home.

xxx—xxx—xxx

Author’s Note: Yes! It is I, Nyanon!!! Anyways, you mentioned wanting a fic of the “Atsushi being tortured” idea I sent you on anon- Hopefully this is good enough!

Also, if you’re wondering why Atsushi didn’t just turn into a tiger and eat Hanmura- It was sort of meant to be a “he’s been in this situation before, and just pliantly doing what they wanted was how he survived” sort of thing? Because Trauma. Hopefully that makes sense!

#fic #dazatsu fic #kinda??#bsd fic #bsd fanfic #nyanon #nyatsushi anon #submission #THIS IS AMAZING #I LOVE IT #FUCK #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #if yall wanna send small snippets here then-feel free to do so #I WOULDNT MIND #just pls dont make it angst with sad ending .#thats all i dont want

24 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Never say never - Chapter 6

So, here’s the next instalment of this little romcom story...

°6° ~Victoria~

“But, I insist upon apologising to the other people in attendance, again.” Victoria hated apologising, but Martin had been right in telling her off about snubbing people who had done her no harm…this far.

Knowing that it would make Martin laugh, she snatched up a bowl of peanuts and held it in her palms like an offering.

As expected, the man beside her doubled over in hilarity, holding his sides as the wheezing grew painful. The polite but confused looks of his friends and colleagues seemed an endless well of amusement to him.

“Ah, thank you.” Hiddleston took up one of the nuts gingerly and shoved it into his mouth as if it had been a ritualistic offering indeed. “See? The tamest of…beasts.” Martin whispered into her ear, and she was tempted to pat the golden hair on the man soothingly.

Following the other man’s example, Armitage also picked a nut and ate it, keeping his eyes questioningly on her face.

“Look pleased, girl, smile at them.” Martin said in a hushed voice, nudging her in the side gently.

Victoria was almost sure that she was grimacing, her teeth bared awkwardly, but she had never been good at smiling on command and this fraught situation was, unfortunately, no exception to this shortcoming of hers.

“So, tell us, what did you refer to when you called this a “nerd-fest”?” Martin prompted her gently to speak, seemingly understanding that direct exhortations would get him nowhere with her. It was, in general, always best to come at a petrified Victoria sideways, starting a seemingly inconsequential conversation and letting it flow from there.

“There are literally dolls of you.” Victoria scoffed, moving her hands vaguely in front of her body in an imitation of how a child would play with a doll. “Not soft though, hard plastic…” Her hands sunk back, she was making a fool of herself.

“Dolls?” Liza hooted gleefully. “Well, I’ve also seen the theatre productions.” Victoria said, just a moment too late, her voice tinged with resentment again. She hated being caught unawares and being goaded into saying stupid shit.

“No, you tell me more about the dolls.” Liza was having fun, but her expression was devoid of malice or ill-will.

“Liza, I have seen those funny movies with the costumes and the creatures and…” Victoria sighed, she didn’t remember the names and she was already at a disadvantage here. She felt caught and put on the spot amidst these people who, naturally, knew those movies so well, down to the very lines of the characters.

“And did you like them?” The good beast, Tom as he had introduced himself with a smile, was grinning at her warmly again. Yes, she could see what Jenna saw in him, he seemed to radiate warmth and a polite friendliness.

“Oh, yes, very much. It was a bit…sad though.” Victoria shrugged. She was not ready to explain to a bunch of strangers that she didn’t like seeing bad family relations and vicious fights, as her reality had enough of those to last for a lifetime.

Liza looked at her questioningly, but after a moment, she understood. She had seen Vic pick up on the most random things, but strained family relationships and weird homosexual undertones were always amongst the things that moved her most. Also, like most soft-hearted, even though Vic was equally hard-headed, women, Victoria hated untimely deaths.

Maybe, her plan would work after all. All she had to do now was to draw back and hope that Armitage had a tad of charm on his own. He had taken the peanut and he was giving them his best constipated smile.

Waving discreetly at her wife, she withdrew, pulling Jenna along with her, much to the chagrin of the young woman.

“That is one good-looking man.” She sighed under her breath and Liza turned around, scanning the room for the person her wife’s employee might have meant by those words. Martin followed them discreetly, coaxing Benedict along with the promise of more cakes and sandwiches (and a prime vantage point to follow the developments of their plan).

“Where are you all going now? What?” Vic called out, distress in her voice. “I’ll be right back; you stay with Armitage.” Liza grinned suavely, physically shoving Jenna along as she dug her heels into the carpeted floor.

Victoria blinked, looking up at the man in front of her until she could feel herself grow slightly dizzy.

“Oh darn it! That’s it. I’m done trying to be pretty.” She cursed under her breath, opened her tiny clutch bag and fished out a pair of gold-rimmed, round glasses that she put on resolutely. Unfortunately, she could not suppress the gasp.

“Oh Saints.” She sighed under her breath as the slightly blurry surroundings became sharper instantly. She had known that these were dangerous men, but she had believed that her myopy and the artistry of the editors had embellished them considerably; suffice it to say that she was shocked to find that she had been wrong.

~Richard~

They had left her alone with that woman. Not entirely alone of course, Hiddleston was still hovering around, but Martin that treacherous weasel had followed the cakes and the gentler women, leaving him stranded with this surprising creature whose eyes made it quite hard for him to find something relevant to say.

She blinked owlishly up at him until he thought that she’d go cross-eyed. To his surprise – another one – she usually wore glasses and when she put them on, an obscene sound of pleasure escaped her half-open lips.

Again, she called to the Saints, pushing the glasses up before they had even had the chance or the time to slip, which told him that she wore her glasses more consistently than him and probably had done so for a long time.

She had made an inane comment about no longer attempting to be pretty, before putting on her glasses but that made no sense at all to him, as her glasses were beautiful and, in a strange way, so was she.

Obviously, pushing up her glasses was a habit or a tick as she did it twice while looking at him as if he was a painting in a museum rather than a real, living, breathing person. Then again, he stood nearly as still as a statue under her forbidding, critical gaze that roamed over his face with detached curiosity.

“Hmmm, how do you find the 1971 Armitage then?” Hiddleston stood next to her, eating peanuts, and joining her in her intense study of the immobile man facing them. No doubt, he deserved the attribute of “stony” now, Richard thought, dismayed to be the butt of the joke after all. He had known that had been a risk and he had walked right into it.

“1971?” She asked absent-mindedly, throwing a quick questioning look at her interlocutor before returning her gaze to him, and Richard flinched a little bit. Why did that man have to lead with his age when talking to a woman that young?

“A collectible, I’m sure.” Hiddleston purred, his voice laden with affectation which made Victoria chuckle again.

Hmmm, if it made her laugh rather than growl and spit, he would be standing there and be mocked for a little while longer, Richard decided. She looked like she needed a laugh.

“Not quite an antique.” Victoria opined, but Hiddleston was quick to reassure her: “Almost though. It’s been wonderfully preserved.” Again, that pealing, throaty laughter resounded, and Richard’s own mouth curled into an indulgent smile.

“This deserves to be in a gallery.” Victoria murmured, her voice devout and strangely vulnerable.

“I am right here; I can hear you.” Richard interjected, without much hope to break up their little game.

“AAAH, as you can see, Ma’am, it is unfortunately haunted. It can tell the time…if you hang it opposite a clock that is…” Hiddleston was quick to take Richard’s intervention in his stride, giving himself an apologetic expression that amused Victoria greatly. “Haunted? A piece of art so young?” She expressed her doubt and suspicion.

“Yes, yes…It’s looking for a good home though, a nice attic or a cellar maybe…” Hiddleston was waving his hands around Richard’s face as if to dazzle Victoria by the speed of his movements, an old trick salespeople used to distract from the inferior quality of their wares.

“I have a home, thank you, Hiddleston. I am not a piece of junk to be sold for 50p in a yard-sale.” Richard growled.

Her face grew grave, and he wondered what dark thought had crossed her mind to make her smile die on her lips. Immediately, he regretted having cut short their fun. He really was the grumpy, old sad sack he never wanted to be.

~Victoria~

When Tom spoke of attics and cellars, Victoria was immediately reminded of the stately house her father had raised her in. She could imagine a man like that one living there, she could picture a painting of a man such as that hanging in the great hall over the fireplace or high above the broad staircase winding its way to the two separate wings of the manor.

He had a skin like the Italian marble that had been so ridiculously slippery and that had made her afraid to take a fatal tumble down the very same staircase. Many people had told her that the idea was ludicrous and overly dramatic, but she knew it to be possible. Her mother had died that way.

Yes, there had been a bottle of bourbon and some prescription drugs in the mix as well, but the fact remained that her mother had fallen down the staircase and died on the spot from a broken neck. Father had replaced that patch of marble, but its veining was different, and they all hated that marred, ugly square that stood out like a sore thumb.

Thinking of her childhood home invariably made her sad; but she couldn’t deny that Richard Armitage would have fitted better into the décor than the little girl she had been.

He would look terribly imposing on the steps of the stairs or sitting in the huge armchairs in front of the roaring fire in the library. He would not be swallowed by every piece of furniture, he would not look out of place in the huge copper bathtub, and he would certainly not blend into the dark corners of the much too spacious rooms when the main lights were turned down. Maybe, she would have to get a painting of him and try to sneak it in to see if her father would even notice.

“Would that he were a painting.” She murmured, a desperate note sneaking into her voice that Tom picked up on immediately. There was pain in this woman, and he could see the gooseflesh on her arms as she tried to keep still. Evidently, she was on the verge of breaking into another run, unable to cope with something that distressed her, a thing that escaped his notice though…which frustrated him, as he really wanted to help her.

“So, you prefer the theatre to the cinema?” He asked, hoping it would be the right path to choose.

Victoria took a deep breath; this was what Liza and Angie had aimed for, for her to meet new people and talk about herself again. “I don’t know, I’ve only been to the movie theatre a few times before. It was a long time ago though.”

She could remember the smell of popcorn and of anticipation as the room grew dark and the screen lit up like a window to another world. Even then, she had been consumed with an absurd fear to be among so many other people; terrified of what they might think of her if she was to gasp or cry at the wrong moment, so she stayed immobile.

The man who would marry and divorce her within 10 years had thought that she had hated the experience and hence had not asked her to go to the cinema often afterwards. Maybe, if he had believed that she liked it, he would have taken her instead of other girls and this shared hobby would have strengthened their bond rather than frazzle it.

Victoria coughed, she had said too much already, and her heart was pounding. She was not ready for this.

“I’m sorry. I have to go home. I’m not feeling well.” She uttered hastily, turning to leave.

She was a terrible person; she had tried to make things right and all she had managed were fits and starts, broken off conversations that would leave a stale taste on the silver tongues of these men.

“I…can’t.” She stammered to no-one in particular as she waved at her friends and vanished before they could make their way back through the room to keep her from leaving like an absurd perversion of Cinderella.

She wanted to say how sorry she was, she wanted to thank them for their kindness, but she just couldn’t…so, she ran, her feet drumming against the pavement and her dress soaking up the moisture of the ground as she made for the next corner to catch a cab.

By the time she arrived home, her chest was heaving frantically, and she was crying with panic and distress.

When she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, Victoria had to admit to herself that she was irrevocably broken. She had had the great honour to meet people so fascinating and charming that many a woman would have torn out her own throat to be in her shoes and yet, she had not been able to shake the ghosts haunting her every breath, dogging her every step, spoiling her every pleasure.

Whatever Angie and Liza had thought they could achieve here, it would not happen, it never could.

~Richard~

That woman was utterly confusing. There were threads of a vibrant, quick-witted, funny person shining through behind a veil of confused anger, but somehow, they couldn’t get a hold of her.

In his mind, he could not reconcile the words he had read on the pages with the wide-eyed distress on her face; there was such a difference between the person he had imagined her to be and the person she had turned out to be in reality.

Now, it was true that his own taciturn demeanour had not been exactly conducive to drawing out the parts of her she was obviously hiding from the world, shielding them like deep wounds or fragile saplings.

Hiddleston however… that man was charming and even he had not managed to make her let down her guard for more than a few minutes at a time.

“What the fuck have you done to her?” Elizabeth stormed over, dismay writ plain on her face.

No, she had been angry before, she has bloody screamed at YOU, Richard thought, you cannot blame us for her leaving…but he still felt responsible and a tiny bit guilty. If he had been a little more open, she might have felt less insecure.

She has made it very clear that she’s afraid of you, he reminded himself, and you have done nothing to assuage her fears. No, you’ve given her your crooked, sharp-edged smiles that must indeed have looked like a predator baring its teeth at her more than the shy warmth he wanted them to convey.

“We were nice, all was well until Armitage gave her one of those cold, snide smiles.” Hiddleston shrugged and Richard felt weirdly hurt and betrayed even though he could hear that it had been a joke. Cold, a thing he had been called much too often and that made him despair within his own heart. He had not chosen his face and even after 50 years of life, he could not outrun its angular repulsiveness.

She had not known him well enough to be prejudiced, maybe, she would have been able to find warmth where others saw ice, but he had not managed to make her see. Also, Hiddleston had not been a great help.

“Awww, Richard, come on!” Martin sighed, disappointed, as if he was pursuing some ulterior motive Richard ignored.

#richard armitage #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #romance #romcom #ao3 #writing #rpf #hurt #trauma #a miss is a miss #vintage armitage #humour

1 note · View note

atamascolily · 4 years

Text

So I want to talk about one of Luke’s less publicized fails in Legends, namely with Cray Mingla and Nichos Marr in Children of the Jedi by Barbara Hambly. It’s not as flashy and obvious as his failures with Kyp Durron and Kueller, since only two people die, and the New Republic government doesn’t get involved. It’s framed as the result of his students’ choices, rather than their teacher’s, and Luke benefits a great deal from the fallout. But the more I study the backstory for fic purposes, the more convinced I am that Luke Majorly Screwed Up, and I want to call him out on it.

When we first meet Cray and Nichos, the situation is presented as both a tragic love story, and also a Done Deal. Two Force prodigies (and childhood best friends?) fall in love and come to Yavin to train, only for one to be diagnosed with a fatal illness, and the other uses their life’s work to save them. It’s a Nicholas Sparks novel with robots.... except it doesn’t work.

Instead of successfully transferring Nichos’s spirit into a new body, Cray creates a droid replica straight out of the Uncanny Valley, with life-like face and hands. a metallic body, and all of Nichos’s memories. (How she does this is handwaved as techno-wizardry, with a little bit of Ssi-ruuvi techniques thrown in the mix, which is... even more horrific if you start to think about it.) The result isn’t the “real” Nichos--it’s not the man she fell in love with. It’s a construct, a copy, not a human being.

I get where Hambly was trying to go with this meditation on what constitutes personhood, but I feel like dismissing the new Nichos as “just” a droid” is kinda sketchy, given that machines and droids in the Star Wars universe have emotions and personalities and are clearly capable of independent agency not directly contradicted by their programming. Maybe this new Nichos is “another Corellian by the same name” and not the original, but does that make him any less deserving of autonomy and personhood? I don’t think so.

Droid-Nichos is clearly aware that he’s not human--he pretends because he wants to please Cray (and there’s a not-so-subtle implication she programmed him to do that, which is hella creepy)--but his conversations with Threepio make it equally clear that he sees that as his only function, and he’s not of much ‘use’ for anything else. His very specificity makes him an outlier among droids. He doesn’t fit into either world, which is why he’s so willing to sacrifice himself at the end of the novel--besides the fact that Cray asks him to and he’s not in position to be able to say no.

But Cray is so deep in denial she refuses to admit that this isn’t the original Nichos until droid-Nichos is unable to rescue her from torture because he’s wearing a restraining bolt. Then she breaks down completely, sending droid-Nichos up to shut down the ship and be shot to pieces while she commits suicide by letting Callista’s spirit take over her own body.

So where does Luke fit into all of this? Isn’t it unfair to hold him responsible for Cray’s decisions, given that he was unconscious at the time and determined to sacrifice himself instead? At twenty-six, Cray was a grown-ass adult; if she wanted to create a walking RealDoll with the memories of dead lover, that was her business, right? Right?

The thing is that Hambly makes it clear during Cray’s breakdown that Luke knew all along that Cray hadn’t saved the “real” Nichos.

“Luke …”

He looked up quickly, to meet the blue glass eyes. In the shadowy gloom the face that he’d known so well was almost a stranger’s, affixed monstrously to the silver cowl of the metal skull.

“Am I really Nichos?”

Luke said, “I don’t know.” He had never in his life felt so helpless, because in his heart—in the secret shadows where the truth always lay—he knew that this was a lie.

He knew.

Luke knew exactly what the new Nichos was, and he never sat down with Cray and talked about this or staged an intervention of any kind. He let her deceive herself, even though one of the foremost principles of being a Jedi is self-knowledge and facing grief and failure directly. He knew and he never said anything, because.... I don’t know, exactly.

The Doylist answer is that Callista needed a hot young body to inhabit, and Cray’s entire existence was to provide her with one, more or less guilt-free. (I still think it’s incredibly creepy, and I know I’m not the only one, but most of the characters in-universe let it slide, and I just... can’t even...)

“Am I ‘another Corellian of the same name’?”

“I’d like to tell you one way or the other,” said Luke. The bolt came away from the brushed-steel chest, lay thick and heavy in Luke’s hand. One hand real, one hand mechanical, but both his. “But I … I don’t know. You are who you are. You are the being, the consciousness, that you are at this moment. That’s all I can tell you.” That fact, at least, was true.

The smooth face did not alter, but the blue eyes looked infinitely sad. “I had hoped that, being a Jedi, you would know.”

And Luke had the uncomfortable sensation that, having been a Jedi, Nichos knew perfectly well that he was keeping something back.

It’s worth noting here that Luke is one of the few people in the GFFA who we see treating droids as people. He’s not dismissive of Nichos’s existential angst, and he’s not going to dictate what Nichos is, no matter how much Nichos wants to be reassured one way or the other. I don’t know if other characters who are less sympathetic to droids would react this way.

I also like the juxtaposition between Nichos’s metallic body and Luke’s mechanical hand. Luke is human; Nichos isn’t--where’s the line between them? Isn’t Luke’s point here is that the line is where you define it to be?

Or at least that’s the image Luke wants to project. He’s still holding something back--namely, the real truth, which he shares with Callista:

“Is Nichos all right?”

Luke nodded, then caught himself, and shook his head. “Nichos … is a droid,” he said.

“I know.”

Callista sees right off that Nichos is a droid; she calls him “the droid with the human eyes” and asks if he’s some new creature of Palpatine’s when she and Luke first meet. Luke can admit to her that Nichos is a droid, but not to Nichos or Cray--not even when Nichos directly asks him. So, #TeachingFail there, I think. What the hell was Luke thinking?

This gets even worse as Callista continues:

“Luke,” she said gently. “Sometimes there is nothing you can do.”

He expelled his breath in an angry gust, fist clenched hard; but he did not, after all, speak for a time. Then it was only to say, “I know.” He realized he hadn’t known that, two weeks ago. In some ways, learning about Sith Lords and cloned Emperors had been easier.

So if Luke didn’t know there was nothing to be done but accept the situation as it was, why didn’t he try to do something for Cray before now? Why did he let her coast along in denial with her robot boyfriend for months?

Which makes it all the more ironic that the conversation turns to the role of mistakes in the education of a Jedi, as well as recounting of Luke’s other teaching mistakes.

“I just wish some of those one thousand eighty mistakes didn’t involve teaching students. Teaching Jedi. Transmitting power, or the ability to use the Force. My ignorance—my own inexperience—cost one of my students his life already, and threw another one into the arms of the dark side and caused havoc in the galaxy I don’t even want to think about. The whole thing—the Academy, and bringing back the skills of the Jedi—is too important for … for ‘Learn While You Teach.’"

Luke isn’t responsible for Nichos’s illness or his death, but he is responsible for letting Cray keep her illusions for so long. He isn’t responsible for the dramatic, over-the-top way in which Cray’s fantasies come tumbling down--but why did he let it get to that point in the first place?

Here’s Cray’s reaction when Luke does try to talk to her about Nichos:

“I know he had a scum-eating motherless restraining bolt, you jerk!” She screamed the words, spat them at him, hatred and fury a bitter fire in her eyes; and when the words were out sat staring at him in blind, helpless rage behind which Luke could see the fathomless well of defeat, and grief, and the ending of everything she had ever hoped.

Then silence, as Cray turned her face aside. The nervous thinness that had advanced on her during Nichos’s illness had turned brittle, as if something had been taken, not just from her flesh, but from the marrow of her bones. Over the torn uniform, grimed with blood and oil, the blanket hung on her like a battered shroud.

If they had had this conversation before now--after Nichos’s death, or at any point before that trip to Ithor--would matters have come to this? Is Luke culpable for all the things he didn’t say to Cray, as well as the things he did say to Gantoris and Kyp (cited above)?

Does Cray fall prey to the Dark Side here? Is that why Callista loses her powers? I don’t know. I love this novel, but so much of its logic is incomprehensible to me, and I don’t understand it. Maybe that’s why I love it so much, because it keeps me thinking about it.

“Don’t hate him for being what he is,” he said, the only thing he could think of to say. “Or for being what he’s not.”

The words sounded puerile in his own ears, like a half-credit computerized fortune-teller at a fair. Ben, he thought, would have had something to say, something healing … Yoda would have known how to deal with the wretched ruin of a friend’s heart and life.

The mightiest Jedi in the universe, he reflected bitterly—that he knew of, anyway—the destroyer of the Sun Crusher, the slayer of evil, who’d defeated the recloned Emperor and the Sith Lord Exar Kun, and all he could offer someone who had been disemboweled was, Gee, I’m sorry you’re not feeling so well …

Luke, you should have had this conversation with her months ago. Or if you didn’t feel up to it, you should have insisted she go to THERAPY as a condition of her continued training at your school, you knew damn well she wasn’t okay, and you just let her go on her way as if nothing was wrong and I just...

As a result of his screw-ups with Cray and Nichos, Luke survives, his ghost girlfriend gets a body, and the Eye of Palpatine is destroyed, so I guess it works out pretty well for him. Cray and Nichos, not so much, sadly. Does he learn anything from the experience? I don’t know, because nothing quite this weird happens ever again.

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m so mad about this one point from a novel published twenty-five years ago that only a handful of people remember, but I can’t read it anymore without wanting to smack Luke here for his part in this whole mess. Even though I think I understand why he holds back, why he’s afraid he’ll make matters worse, and why it’s easier to just to leave Cray alone and hope it all works out, it’s still the wrong decision and Obi-wan and Yoda and I are all shaking our heads at him, because really, Luke, why did you do that--??

#star wars #star wars legends #Luke Skywalker #Children of the Jedi #SW meta

57 notes · View notes

waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years

Text

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Three

In order to make any sense of this, you’ll want to read Part One and Part Two.

Thanks to everyone who’s read/ commented/ liked so far! My guess is that this section *maybe* represents the halfway point, although possibly a little less. I feel like I’m on the clock here since there’s at least one more “seasonal” (Halloween-type-theme) story I’m working on.

Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 4,734

Content advisory: None.

"Is everything alright, Miss? I thought I heard you cry out."

Kate's voice startled me when I came back inside.

"Oh yes, I'm sorry. I saw… there was a strange man at the gate just now but I told him to be on his way."

"A strange man?" She muttered something under her breath before continuing, "There's too many around this summer. You see tramps all the way down from Dublin with things being so hard there and it makes you feel like you're not safe in your own home."

"I hadn't thought of that. I assumed it was one of the village men."

Kate shook her head. "They're bad enough. But these city ruffians have a look that'll turn your blood cold."

"He was a peculiar looking fellow," I mused. "And there was certainly something about him that set my nerves on edge. But he's gone now."

I tried to sound confident but when I retired to my chambers for the night, I was haunted by visions of the dark man, filled with a foreboding that he meant harm to me or the children. During those few precious stretches when I was able to sleep, I dreamt of his pale eyes bearing down on me, of the man speaking to me without ever moving his lips.

“I am coming,” he said, and nothing more.

As the summer progressed, the children became more and more restless with their lessons. Although they did not associate much with the youngsters from town, they knew enough to be aware that schools had let out and that other children were free to spend their summers at play. I tried to keep them focused as much as possible but I found myself giving in to their wishes to go outside and, in particular, to go for long walks along the shore.

I had become accustomed to the constant roll of the ocean in my new home but I still felt a little intimidated being next to what seemed like an endless expanse. In theory, I knew that there was land in the distance but the fact that I could not see it made me feel like it was a fantasy, as much as the monsters that the children told me of.

“Miss Miles, can we please go around the point today?” William whined at me.

For weeks, he had been begging me to circle around the tip of the beach crescent, around to the area just below the place where we had had our picnic. He could tell that each request was wearing me down just a little but I felt that he had reached my core and that I could not yield. The area was rocky and uneven, some of it barely above water even at low tide. I knew that, while he might be able to skip through it with impunity, I couldn’t hope to keep pace and could easily slip and injure myself, at which point I would be no help at all to him or his sister.

“William, I’ve told you before, if we come to the beach, we stay on the sands,” I grumbled, irritable from a bad night’s sleep. “It’s too dangerous to risk going farther.”

“But there are caves! I want to go and look inside them!”

“My word is final and you know perfectly well that your father would agree with me.”

I remained nervous that the children could damage my position by complaining that I’d treated them unfairly, so I’d taken to invoking their father when I needed to enforce discipline. It worked in this case, as it always did, although every time I refused him his adventure, I could see William’s expression growing more frustrated and angrier.

The three of us took our dinner together, William still sulking.

“How did your family die?” he blurted as we waited on dessert.

“Willam, be quiet,” Sophia hissed. “You’ve no right to ask her such questions.”

At the same time, I saw her dark eyes cut back to me for an instant, as if she wanted to see how I’d react without her intervention. I was exhausted and knew that no real harm could come of sharing my story. I even thought that it might generate some sympathy in them.

“My mother died giving birth to my younger brother,” I informed them coolly. “My father loved her very much and after she died… his health began to deteriorate.”

I knew enough to avoid telling the whole truth in this case, namely that starting with my mother’s death, my father had started to drink heavily. This was not appropriate for children to hear. Then again, I mused, it was not appropriate for a child to experience.

“He was a schoolteacher and as his health declined, he was forced out of work,” I continued.

“So you were paupers?” Sophia asked sharply.

“We were not so bad off. My father had some meagre savings that supported us, and he was able to take on some work tutoring.”

“Where is your brother now?” William now seemed more curious than resentful.

I inhaled deeply.

“My brother died when he was hardly more than a baby.”

“Was he sickly? What did he die of?”

I was not expecting the barrage of personal questions but I understood them to an extent. I likely could have scolded them and told them that they were being presumptuous. Instead, I cast my eyes down at the table and spoke.

“He just died. No one could ever determine why. He went to sleep one night and never woke up.”

“How mysterious!” Sophia exclaimed.

“I suppose so,” I responded softly. “After his death, my father’s health grew even worse. He grew weaker and eventually, he died too.”

“As a result of his illness?”

“He took a kind of a turn. I think he must have felt dizzy and he fell and hit his head. He died a few days later from the injury.”

“That’s horrid,” Isabella gasped. “You were left all alone!”

“Not quite all alone,” I answered with a smile. “My church took me in and made sure that my needs were met. They also made sure that I was educated enough to be able to take on a position as governess. And here I am with you.”

Sophia frowned a little. “Do churches in your area normally do that?”

“I suppose I was lucky that this one was very generous.”

The truth was that their generosity had always confused me. When I was very young, I didn’t understand why anyone should be so kind to me. As I grew older, I appreciated it more but I understood that this was not something that was normally practiced. Perhaps I had been lucky enough to be born in an especially generous parish. Perhaps the reverend there had seen some potential in me from the beginning, for he was always my champion and closest ally. I only knew that I had fared better than another in my situation could hope to.

We all retired early, our lungs full of ocean air that soothed the brain. I read to the children from a book of fables that didn’t seem to bore them too much and was relieved when they declared themselves exhausted after just a few minutes.

I said my prayers that night remembering my family and hoping that they had made their way to Heaven.

At around one, I was awakened by Kate, who was in a panic. It took me a moment for me to get her to speak coherently.

“It’s the young Master,” she sobbed. “He’s run off. She says she doesn’t know where he’s gone.”

The word “she” was said with a level of suspicion and anger that surprised me. I knew she was speaking of Sophia and that she had some dark opinions on the young Devitts, but it hardly seemed a tone appropriate to speaking of a child.

“How long has he been gone?”

“About ten minutes ma’am. I ran out to see if I could catch him because he’s run off to hide in the woods as a game before, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.”

I started to gather some clothes so that I could at least make a pretense of being presentable.

“Was the back gate unlocked?”

“It was, although I can’t say for certain if that was done tonight.”

The two of us descended the stairs, looking out at the trees whipped around by the wind. I was aware that Sophia trailed after us but I was annoyed at her for her refusal to divulge where her brother had gone, even though I was certain she knew.

“Kate, did you see him go in the direction of the woods?” I asked, another idea springing to mind.

“I did not… I just assumed that since he’d gone before…”

“He’s not back there,” I told her. “He’s gone down to the water to look at the caves.” I spun to face Sophia. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She pursed her lips, looking genuinely shocked that I had figured out the answer so quickly.

“The caves?” Kate exclaimed. “But it’s high tide! He’ll be pulled out to sea!”

“Kate, I need you to go to all the houses nearby. Wake them and tell them that you need to form a search party for Master William and tell them we think that he’s near the ocean. They can cover the ground over land in case he’s taken that route. I’m going to go down to the beach to see if I can find him there.”

“But it’s not safe!”

��It will be fine,” I assured her, far from convinced myself. “I should be able to catch him before he makes his way around the point. Hopefully, he’ll turn back on his own when he sees the water but at least I can move much faster than he does.”

Without waiting for another word, I bolted from the house, rushing down to the beach and almost falling several times. The tide was at its highest point, almost reaching the top of the rocks where William liked to collect his specimens. Even at a distance, I could see that the point of the crescent, where WIlliam would have to go in order to access the caves on the other side, was covered in water up to its vertical rise. And well ahead of me along the beach, I could see a small figure skipping along the rocks.

“William!” I screamed, starting after him as quickly as I could. “William, stop! It’s too dangerous!”

The wind whipping off the water was too much for my voice to carry, so I continued after him as quickly as I could go, confounded that his tiny legs seemed to carry him at almost the same pace. It took me some time to close any distance between us and I was still too far behind for him to hear me calling after him.

As he approached the end of the beach, I saw him pause and peer forward, as if he were following someone and questioning the wisdom of going further. I tried to call out his name even louder but I grew winded very quickly.

It seemed like insanity, even for a child, but William waded out into the water, making his way towards the point. I trembled at the thought that in order to catch up with him, I would have to do the same, already imagining the weight of my clothing and the tug of the current on my legs.

He clung as close as he could to the shore and began to gingerly make his way around the turn. Once he slipped, the rocks beneath his feet doubtless slick and deadly, but he resurfaced a second later, scrabbling his way up to the side of the rock and clinging to it as he made his way around and out of my sight.

Terrified, I realized that in order to have any hope of overtaking him before the danger became worse, I would have to take a diagonal route, walking through the water rather than moving along the shore. I had never in my life ventured into the ocean but the need to rescue my young charge was greater than my fear. I waded out until the water reached my thighs and fought my way with all my strength. As I approached the point of the crescent beach, I stumbled, almost getting pulled under and soaked to my chest but I persevered, making my way forward until I saw the gouges in the earth that formed the caves William so wanted to see.

As I approached the first one, I heard screaming over the wind and made my way towards it. Indeed it was William, ghost white and terrified, begging for help.

“I can’t swim!” he shrieked.

Of course, I couldn’t swim either, but I wasn’t about to say that.

“I’m coming William!” I cried out, fighting my way towards him. “We’ll be safe soon!”

By the time I reached him, cowering on a ledge inside the cave, my lungs were burning from exertion. I gathered him up in my arms but my grip was weak. I was gasping and desperately trying to keep hold of him and I could tell from the look on his face that my demeanor was doing nothing to inspire confidence. Despite the cold of the water, my entire body felt like burning coals wrapped in skin. Truthfully, having made it this far, I wasn’t certain I could guide us to safety but I knew I had a better chance than the boy had on his own. And, although I felt shame at the thought as soon as it occurred to me, if I were to leave and focus only on saving myself, there was the chance that he would survive and be able to tell others that I had abandoned him.

I wrapped my arm around him and crept forward to the mouth of the cave. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if we might be safer heading further back, into the darkness behind us but there was no way to tell how far back the cave went, if there was a drop, or how deep the water was. So I clung as best I could to the rocky surface with my free hand, trying not to give into the panic I felt hearing William scream and cry.

The rocks under my feet were slick and treacherous and more than once I slipped, sending both of us under the water and forcing me to expend more precious energy fighting back to the surface. After the second such accident, William ceased to cry and seemed to grow heavier. He coughed and spluttered and I found myself shaking him violently in the hopes of making him cough up the ocean water he’d swallowed. Eventually, though, I became so focused on getting back to the shore that it was all I was aware of.

Rather than head back around the point and risk the strong current there, I took the shortest route and headed for the land nearest the caves. I remembered from our picnic on the cliff above that it was narrower and rockier but I didn’t believe I had the strength to carry William much further. I knew that there was some kind of path up because the children had taken it the day of our picnic. But I was certain what shape it would be in or how accessible it would be with the high tide.

I felt like it took me hours to reach the point where the land rose above the water. The path up was difficult to mount but I somehow managed it, all the while pulling my young charge along. Although I managed to get us on to some semblance of solid ground, the soil there was loose and slid around, frustrating my attempts to crawl to safety. William whimpered and whined, for I was at this point dragging him like a sack behind me. I had to pause every few steps just to get more air into my body and because I felt too exhausted to continue. I gave some anguished sobs myself, desperate and furious that this boy had put us both in danger.

About halfway up the hill, I saw some lights and thought I heard voices. I waited a moment, afraid that I was imagining things but the sights and sounds persisted and it occurred to me that there were people there: Kate had gone to raise the alarm with our neighbors and she would have sent them to the place where she knew I had headed.

“Help us!” I cried as loudly as I could manage. I knew I was nowhere near loud enough to be heard over the wind but knowing how close rescue was, my body refused to move further up the path. “For the love of God, help us!”

I stayed in place, clinging to William and holding him close to my body in order to share what little warmth I had. I continued to scream, my voice growing louder as some of my strength returned. Although his glassy eyes told me that he had no idea what was going on, William was roused by my voice and then joined me in my calls for help. As I reached what I truly felt might be my last breath, I saw a couple of faces appear above us. I raised my arm weakly and hollered in the hopes that they would notice us.

“They’re here!” a man’s voice cried out.

I felt my body slump as I realized that we’d been seen. I clung as tight as I could to William and felt my head tip back. Although I never lost consciousness, I was only dimly aware of what was going on as the men descended and gathered us up to bring us back to safety. There was a cacophony of voices offering praise to God, trying to evaluate our health, barking orders on where to take us.

Finally, one familiar voice cut through them all.

“Oh my heavens, Miss Miles,” Kate cried, “you are a saint.”

I felt filthy and waterlogged and pain ripped through every tissue of my body. I felt like nothing like a saint but her praise felt better and more genuine than anything I had been told in my life. I tried to smile but even the muscles of my face felt heavy and I don’t know that I managed more than a twitch of my lips.

The rescue party conveyed us all back to Wynn Cottage, throwing rugs and blankets over us as they did. I heard Kate giving orders and was quietly impressed at how her sweet, matronly demeanor changed when leadership was needed. When we reached the cottage, the group split into two. One part hurried up the stairs with William, yelling that the doctor was needed. Another group carried me to the kitchen, where Susan was standing over a washing basin filled with hot water.

I was surprised, in light of her often grouchy mood, to see that her eyes were red from crying and that she reached out to grab hold of my hand as soon as the men brought me close to her. She held onto it hard and a strange mix of prayers and praise flowed from her lips.

“Thank you, thank you,” Kate muttered, fighting her way to the front of the crowd. “Now please leave us, we have to get her into the bath to warm her up. Give us some privacy please.”

The men shuffled out of the kitchen and I immediately felt Kate and Susan working at the buttons of my dress. Their movements were frantic enough that a few buttons were torn clean off. Each time that would happen, I heard Susan assure us that she would take care of it. When they finally removed the last of my drenched clothing, I saw Susan gather everything up and grab the errant buttons off the floor before disappearing. Kate helped me step into the basin and lowered me into the hot water.

It was painful, for my skin felt like I was being poached in the heat, but she stroked my hair and soothed me, assuring me that this was what I needed.

“You’ve done more than was ever asked of you,” she told me. “You are that boy’s guardian angel and everyone in this place is going to hear of what you did for him.”

Gently, she laid my head against the edge of the basin and I looked up at her, able to focus my eyes for the first time since my rescue.

“Thank you,” I croaked, my voice cracking with the effort of speaking. “You’re too kind.”

She huffed and shook her head. “The Young Master deserves a hiding for sneaking out that way. You are a truly godly woman and there’s not many that would have done what you did, putting your own life in danger to save him.”

I remembered that moment in the cave when I had considered abandoning William for an instant and shame washed over me.

Some voices came from the landing above and Kate frowned a little.

“I suppose I’m needed up there,” she sighed. “Can you hold yourself up if I go? You won’t slip under the water?”

“I’m fine,” I promised her. “Go and tend to the boy and make sure he has what he needs.”

I thought that she was going to repeat her assertion that what he needed was a hiding but she simply shook her head and left the kitchen.

My body had adjusted to the temperature and I could feel myself relaxing. Fatigue was so heavy on me that I did need to keep a firm grip on the sides of the basin to avoid sinking to the bottom. How ironic it would be, I thought mirthlessly, to have escaped a watery ocean death only to drown in a tub of water here.

The oil lamp that had been left to give me some light flickered a little and I wondered if there might be a draft. I couldn’t feel anything on my skin but in my state, I couldn’t be sure of anything that was happening. The lamp seemed to grow dimmer and the shadows in the room drew closer. It was my exhausted mind toying with me, I told myself. I couldn’t trust my senses under such circumstances.

Nevertheless, a current of fear ran through me, making me feel more awake and alert than I had in hours. And as I looked around the room, I saw a figure emerge from the shadows, the low lighting casting a sheen over its dark skin and illuminating its pale eyes. It advanced until it reached the edge of the basin where I lay, helpless, its long tongue flicking over sharpened teeth like a predator discovering injured prey.

I wanted to scream but there was no air in my lungs and my lips refused to open. My whole body was paralyzed, so that I could not escape or fight him. His face was familiar but I could not remember from exactly where. But while I was certain I had encountered him before, I knew immediately that he had not been in this form, this demonic shape, nude with an oily hide, black mottled with red and white, a deranged grin and eyes that seemed to hold me in thrall.

Unable to move though I was, I quickly realized that I was not unable to feel. As he leaned over the edge of the tub, he took hold of my foot and lightly dragged one clawed finger along the sole. The sensation made me shiver, made me want to thrash around to free myself, but I could do none of those things. Grinning, he dipped his head low and stuck his tongue into the bathwater like a cat at a saucer of milk. Then in one smooth motion he tightened his grip on my ankle and pulled my leg forward, immediately pulling my upper body under the water.

I wanted to push myself up again. I wanted to wriggle free of his grip. I wanted to run from him. But my body would do none of this. Instead, I was forced to feel the air escaping my lungs, to feel the desperation and panic grow in me as I realized that I could not reach the surface. At the same time, I felt the tip of the demon’s tongue touch the instep of my foot and trail a hot path over my calf. I could feel its cruel smile against my skin as it made its way higher, until its mouth came to rest at the back of my knee. There was a sharp pain as he bit down on the flesh there and I wanted to cry out but had no power to do.

At that moment, his touch was gone and I was trapped under the water unable to move. A second later, a clawed hand grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked me back into a sitting position. I gasped, drawing in as much air as I could, touching my skull where I’d felt hairs ripped out. My body was my own again but as I surveyed the kitchen, I saw that I was alone. Had I imagined everything? Had it all just been some fevered hallucination?

I looked at the skin under my knee and found a red mark where he had bitten me, however, as I prodded it with my finger, the mark disappeared and the flesh looked normal once again. For the first time since the demonic figure had appeared, I heard noises coming from upstairs in the house. People were bustling around, Kate was giving instructions, there were footsteps everywhere. I stayed in the tub for as long as I could stand, feeling the water grow cooler against my skin. Susan had left some towelling for me and I wrapped myself in it as I emerged from my bath, relishing the sensation of the soft fabric.

I stood there, wrapped up, before the oven for some time, lost in thought, before Kate came back into the kitchen.

“Oh bless you, miss,” she exclaimed. “We didn’t even remember you here.”

“It’s all right. I’m warm and I’m dry now.”

“After all you’ve done, it’s a poor return on our part to leave you all alone.”

“Kate, I’m fine.” Instinct told me that I should keep my demonic vision to myself. “If you could fetch me my nightdress, I would be most obliged.”

She hurried out of the kitchen, still fretting and returned only moments later with my gown. She helped me into it, as my arms ached so much I could barely lift them.

“Is Master William safe?” I asked timidly.

“He’s better than he deserves to be. He’s asleep in bed as if nothing happened.”

“I was a bit rough with him,” I admitted. “I was worried that I might have injured him on the way back.”

“A few scrapes and bruises is all. And it’s no less than he deserves.”

“You mustn’t be too harsh on him. Children are adventurous at that age, especially boys.”

She shook her head, guiding me up the stairs. “I have three brothers and let me tell you that all of them knew that if they’d run off like that, the cuts they got from the rocks would have been the least painful part of the experience.”

I smiled weakly and hugged her as she helped me into the bed.

“We all need to sleep,” I told her, “yourself very much included. I don’t want to hear you up and about at the usual hour. You rest as long as you can.”

“You’re too kind, ma’am.”

“Nonsense. It’s the very least I can do after all your work tonight.”

As she left the garrett, I saw that she turned and looked back at me for a moment. “God bless you and keep you,” she whispered.

I was quickly asleep, however, I woke up periodically, convinced that I felt a hand on my cheek or my throat, or that an unseen figure was hovering nearby, waiting.

#finn balor imagine #finn balor fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #nxt fanfiction #nxt imagine #wayward wrestle writing

10 notes · View notes