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memoryaway · 8 months

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⸻ i saw AARON AZEEM coming through the trees. the 39 year old was fleeing from NEW YORK when they came across novac, and have sought salvation within the motel of purgatory. AARON has been in town for THREE MONTHS and has been assigned as MOTEL STAFF to keep society running smoothly. no matter what, they will find something to fight for. ⸻

playlist.

general.

FULL NAME: haroun ali azeem; he started using the anglicized version of his name, aaron, when he went to college; only his family and a handful of people closest to him call him haroun AGE: 39 DATE OF BIRTH: january 8th, 1983 PLACE OF BIRTH: albany, new york GENDER: cis man PRONOUNS: he him SEXUALITY: gay OCCUPATION IN NOVAC: motel staff EDUCATION LEVEL: masters degree FAMILY: status unknown; two younger sisters, one younger brother FACECLAIM: riz ahmed

personality.

POSITIVE TRAITS: dedicated, hard-working, caring, resourceful NEGATIVE TRAITS: self-destructive, pessimistic, jealous, escapist

backstory.

a classic rags to riches story; aaron comes from an immigrant, working class family so his rough childhood is what made him this determined work hard and keep improving his life; he's the first in his family to do everything, first to finish school, first to go to college, first to get a corporate job, first to buy an apartment. his parents are over the moon whenever aaron shares another success with them and they are always immensely proud of him. what they fail—or refuse—to notice is how overworked aaron is. his mountain of professional success comes at a price of his health and sanity. it starts early, at university; aaron feels the compulsion to be the best at everything he touches which results in constant late nights and early mornings, more caffeine than sleep and barely any life outside of studying and working. there is a month of respite after graduation, a month spent backpacking around europe, but after that it’s back to work and back to university. after graduating from his master’s program, he takes up a job at one of the big banks in the city, a position he practically tricked a friend of his into recommending him for.

a couple years pass and aaron grows frustrated with the job, especially after a co-worker of his gets promoted to a position he was gunning for. it’s nothing a quick job hunt can’t fix, though, he figures. he puts feelers out, updates the shit out of his resume and a few months later he switches companies and the change of scenery seems to help.

but the story repeats itself here as well; another year passes and aaron starts feeling the effects of working too much, his health suffers, his relationships are strained and he experiences burnout to the point of being unable to get himself out of bed. to combat it, he takes some time off to regenerate. when this doesn’t help, he figures he ought to start looking for a new job, a change. before he gets to do that, he gets promoted and becomes a head of his own department—he can't say no to that, can he? aaron throws himself back to work and it's much of the same; he's tired, overworked but it gets him the praise and recognition he's always after. not to mention how padded his wallet's become.

but all of that loses meaning with the outbreak. in an instant, the entire world starts crumbling around them and everything he's been struggling with loses any significance. the new world is difficult to readjust to but, surprisingly enough, aaron takes to it way better than he or anyone around him expected. his dedication to succeed turns into dedication to survive but he doesn't feel the same kind of pressure. paradoxically, it turns into an easier life—there's less things to focus on. find food, shelter, make sure you're fit and safe, that's it. he can do that.

because aaron isn't even home when the outbreak starts developing—he's on the other side of the country with no way of getting back—he's separated from his family. he hasn't heard anything from them and when he did manage to get back home, he found it empty. at this point, he's made peace with having lost them, as painful as that reality is.

aaron always travels in pack & if he chooses to settle somewhere, it's small communities and groups welcoming enough to take him and his companions in. that's how he lands himself in novac, with a few other people looking for a place to stay and feel safe in.

he immediately feels at home—there's community and safety in the numbers and it's been a while since aaron's felt this comfortable. it's odd how good he's doing when it feels like the world is ending but he tries not to think about it too much and just tries to enjoy his time instead.

#aaron — intro.#tldr man prone to mental breakdowns actually feels ok for once #if there are typos no there aren't<3 #lastintro

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dinomintz · 8 months

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gamer palu is funny to me

edited the text bc I didn't see all the TYPOS!!!!

#this is why we aren't gettign a new kid icarus guys :[#kid icarus #pit #palutena #fan art #my art #redraw #kid icarus uprising #i can't draw hands :[#i only notice the typos when ppl started reblogging :[#I'm blaming my constant headaches </3 #minty's terribl. no god. very bad day

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ninicaise · 8 months

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damen and laurent ARE codependant but like. they never find out

#captive prince #damen x laurent #everyone else knows bc it's obvious and they ruin the lives of everyone around them constantly bc of this #but they rlly are blissfully unaware <3 either that or they just don't give a shit #thos mfs would commit suicide if thw other died and leave their countries in ruins with civil wars bc of how obsessed they r w each other.#like canonially.#me personally i love an insane couple. completely bonkers toxic bitches. etc #i just think it would be funny if they were acting Like That #and they were both like we are normal. what do you mean. this is how normal couples who aren't all the other has left in this world behave.#We Are Normal #sorry about the three thousand typos in the tags btw

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loving-jack-kelly · 1 year

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since i have officially been enable (hehe thanks @thefactsofthematter and @daveysjackie)

i think. jack and davey have been friends since the day they met. it was the kind of instant connection that only being in the same class as young kids can generate, the solidarity of having names close enough together in the alphabet that you end up sitting next to each other in every class on the first day of school, and the very fast realization that jack's sense of humor was perfectly matched to davey's ability to convince a teacher he'd done nothing wrong. they're friends all through middle school and high school, even when jack is the popular baseball player class clown and davey is the kid who sits in the front row and answers every question. people outside their immediate friend group kind of wonder why they're so close, but jack and davey and their immediate friends get it.

davey is good at keeping his rebellious streak hidden, and jack is good at acting unbothered, but davey has always been itching to get into trouble and shake that "pleasure to have in class" vibe he's had since he was five and jack cares so much about everything that it's hard not to shut down. so they balance, just like they always have. jack supplies davey with the cigarettes and weed most people would never guess he smokes, and davey gives jack the space to drop the facade and let himself care so much it hurts.

they're the kind of friends that are so intertwined it's hard to imagine one without the other. davey gets out of ap english and jack is already at the classroom door handing him a pack of fruit snacks and laughing at something that happened in the forty minutes since they last saw each other. jack stays late to finish an art project and davey is sitting at the table across from him doing calc homework and making sure jack doesn't get so wrapped up in his work that he doesn't eat.

and then davey goes away to college. and he hates it. he should have known he would hate it because he's hated school and the pressure it put on him since he was old enough to feel the expectations from his teachers. it's not even that college is hard. he earned his spot here, he's smart, he's capable, he even got a really good scholarship. but he hates it. he hates his classes, he hates his major, he changes his major and hates that one too, he misses his family and he misses jack, who facetimes him from the kitchen of the diner he's worked at since he was sixteen excited to announce he's finally starting to work in the kitchen instead of as a server-slash-host.

he first floats the idea of dropping out to jack when they're on facetime at 3am while davey frantically writes an essay that was due at midnight that he forgot about because he just doesn't care anymore. his grades aren't great because he doesn't want to be here, he's miserable, he's only made like two friends, and he hates it here.

he expects jack to react the way he knows his family would, his advisor would, everyone else in his life seems like they would. no, davey, don't drop out, you worked so hard to get here, that would be a waste, you're so smart, don't you want to do something with yourself?

but jack doesn't even look up from his sketchbook when he asks, would that make you happy again?

and yes, it would, davey realizes the more he thinks about it. he would rather go home and work a shitty job for a while than stay here and stay miserable. he would be happier to be home with the people he knows and loves.

so davey drops out. he barely tells his parents he's doing it, but he never registers for classes for his second year and he officially withdraws from the university in july when he's sitting on a fire escape with jack like they used to when they were kids and jack celebrates out loud that he's making his own choices.

so jack gets davey a job in the same diner he works at. they work together and hang out together and are friends like they always have been, but there's something else now because davey, as miserable as he was away at college, has this weird little itch to get out and do something exciting. he starts talking about wanting to get out and see the world, and jack, who has always talked about getting out of the city to see what else is out there, is all for it.

it's impulsive and stupid, even more so than dropping out of college, but they decide to just...go for it. they save up together to buy a van and a few months' worth of spending money and then, when the paperwork is signed and it's too late to stop them, they just leave.

esther and mayer are disappointed maybe. worried, definitely. what happened to their middle child who never got in trouble and got straight As and was quiet and well-behaved his whole life? where did this, this impulsivity and recklessness and sideways ambition, where did it come from? and sarah is less surprised, davey has always confided in her, but didn't expect him to actually go through with it. and les thinks it's very cool that davey is running away as an adult, but sad and a little confused that he barely took the time to say goodbye.

but davey...davey loves it. he and jack leave the city and decide on the spot that they're not using maps, they're headed west and they don't care where they end up. the van used to belong to a plumber, there's no backseat, so they mostly park at truck stops or Walmart parking lots to spend the night. they both have a little money saved up, and jack has been doing commissions online for long enough that he's still got a little income coming in, and they don't know how long this can possibly last but it's fun. it's freedom. they drive until they're sick of driving and then they stop to see what they can get up to until they want to drive some more. they put a mattress in the back of the van and collect pillows and blankets and slowly, strangely, it starts to feel like home.

jack finds an old video camera at one of the thrift stores they stop at and starts recording videos. davey starts pulling them off the camera and putting them on his laptop so he can send updates to his family that show how good this is for both of them. they stop at weird landmarks and tourist attractions, jack fills sketchbook after sketchbook with drawings of the weird places they find, davey starts keeping a journal full of the things that make him laugh and fun facts he's learning.

the van breaks down four months in. they're somewhere in the middle of nowhere, colorado, and jack cracks some joke about it being a miracle they made it this long, and thank god they're actually in a town and not on a highway fifty miles from anywhere. the local mechanic is nice enough to tow it to his shop free of charge, and jack and davey settle in to spend a few days in this tiny town without much to do. they end up sitting in a coffee shop while davey edits together another highlight reel of the last week to send home. jack says he should put it on youtube and see what happens, and davey laughs the idea off but the next morning he's still kind of thinking about it because. why not? maybe nobody will ever watch and it'll just be an easier way to share the videos with his family, or maybe people will watch it and it'll go viral and they'll be famous and making money from it. neither extreme seems that bad, really. so that day, still waiting for the van to be fixed, davey starts editing all of the videos they have so far into one big video. he adds jack's art in there, drawings of the world's biggest ball of string and the world's largest beetle and all the other places they've visited, and he posts it.

and after that, once they get the van back and they're driving north, determined to make it to where Canada meets washington on the coast because it just sounds cool. jack gets it on video when they stop at a campground for the night and davey falls face-first into a river. davey it it on camera when jack has to play tug of war for his phone charger with a crow at a rest stop. they make it up to cape flattery and there's videos of them goofing off on the hike and videos of the view.

davey edits it all together and posts it on youtube. he sends the link to his parents and forgets about it. and that's how it goes for the next month and a half. every week, a forty-minute long vlog of highlights from that week's adventures goes up. every week, they name a random new thing they want to do and start driving in the general direction they think it'll be in. they blow a tire on a windy mountain backroad and the camera, set on the ground, records both of them bickering over the best way to change a tire. they leave the camera, crooked and sliding around, on the dashboard and record the two-man performance of queen's entire discography.

six months into their roadtrip which is starting to feel more like a lifestyle, and two months after davey started uploading videos to youtube, he checks his junk email and sees that he apparently has a comment on one of the videos. he hasn't been paying much attention to what was going on with the old ones once they were up, so he's beyond surprised to see a few thousand views a video, a couple hundred comments on the ones with particularly funny moments. a few hundred subscribers.

jack thinks it's hilarious. davey is not so sure. he keeps uploading though, especially when jack points out that if they get enough subscribers they can monetize it and have some more money. so they keep doing it.

they hit national parks. the spend the winter down south, and davey gets hours of footage of jack wide-eyed and wonderous in santa fe, a city he's wanted to visit for years.

he gets a comment that says something like "I can see them falling in love in real time" and it takes a few days to be able to film the way he has been because now he's self-conscious about how much he records jack just existing. he knows he's had a lingering crush on jack since they were twelve but he doesn't need a random stranger on the internet calling him out on it. he also knows jack is straight. so.

it doesn't take long for the channel to have enough subscribers to monetize it, and it doesn't take long for them to appreciate making a handful of extra cash every month. it's not a lot of money, especially at first, but fifty bucks is a good couple meals with how they've learned to shop, or a full tank of gas. it means they have more time, now that they're starting to run out of savings. and the longer it goes on, the more they're making. they break 10k subscribers on a video that heavily features clips of them rolling down a random hill they found and decided to have fun on and jack rescuing a cat from a dumpster that they brought to a local shelter. davey stops paying attention to the numbers because he and jack both agree if they start doing it for youtube instead of themselves, it'll stop being so much fun.

they got to new orleans for mardi gras, a bucket list item that davey thought of a few months ago when they were stargazing and thinking of more things to do. it's been almost a year since they left new york, and it seems like their list is only growing. they get covered in beads and get a hotel room so they can get as drunk as they want, jack wears the camera around his neck so it doesn't get lost, and it's there that davey has the crashing, terrifying realization that it's a lot more than a little crush.

jack is bright and energetic and even in this crowd full of people dancing and laughing and singing and shouting, jack stands out. davey steals the camera away from him and gets video after video of jack just being jack, being bright and fun and taking davey by the hand and pulling him along to the next thing. jack takes it back and records davey laughing while he tries to dance along to a song he doesn't know. it's wild and crazy and fun.

they got a hotel room with only one bed because they didn't even think about it. they've been sharing the back of the van for a year, but maybe because it's a real bed or maybe because suddenly davey is aware of how much he's actually in love with jack for the first time, but it's different. and they wake up collapsed together, wrapped around each other, and davey has a moment of being so, so grateful for what this year has been.

there's a comment under that video that davey has a hard time ignoring because it says "you just know they kissed when the camera was off lol" and he can't stop thinking about what if. what if they had? what if they did? what then?

when davey is editing the next video he can't help but notice that there are just as many random shots of him doing nothing as there are of jack. like jack is also finding himself recording davey at random moments when nothing is happening. it's hard not to get his hopes up. and the best part of this whole thing has always been the small moments, the quiet and calm conversations at night with rain falling on the roof of the van, being stuck in traffic laughing at each other trying to learn lyrics to a new song, eating at a greasy truck stop diner and trying to figure out what tastes so weird in these pancakes. it's the little things, the inside jokes they've had since middle school spread throughout the brand new adventures every day, the way jack still snorts when he laughs and still teases davey for how he can't help but mess up his hair when he gets excited about something. it's the way they finish each other's sentences without thinking and barely have to talk about things to know what to do next because they can practically read each other's minds.

knowing jack is easy. this whole this has been easy, even when it really wasn't. when they got really lost an a snowstorm rolled in in September for no reason. even when they've been stressed about something going wrong, or being lost someplace scary, or not knowing if they'd make it to the next gas station, even when they've bickered for real and not for fun and even when they've gotten in actual fights a couple of time, it's always been easy. easy to come back to jack, easy to love jack, wholly and simply and completely because isn't that all he's ever done?

davey doesn't think jack is paying much attention to the youtube videos. he's never said anything about the comments or brought up anything from them.

so when they find another quiet moment, way up in the mountains in the southwest listening to the first snowmelt of the spring start to trickle down the slope, wrapped in a big blanket together on the roof of the van so they can see the stars without freezing to death, it takes davey by complete surprise. when jack, who's cuddled into his side and silently taking in the stars he's yet to get sick of being able to see so clearly, says, sometimes I wonder if they're right.

if who are right, davey asks, genuinely confused. the people on youtube who say they're watching us fall in love, jack says, like it's nothing. like it's not a sentence with the potential to upset everything about who they are and what they're doing and who they've always been.

oh? davey says, barely breathing and very, very aware of how pressed close together they are right now.

i guess i just know i could never do better than you, jack says, and davey has a moment of thinking oh he's just kidding until jack rolls to look at him instead of the sky. i don't want to try, I guess, he says. i know I'd never be able to find somebody as perfect for me as you are. I've always known, I've known since we met, and I know it's stupid and crazy especially when we're out here on our own and nowhere to go if things go wrong, but I want to kiss you, I think.

and when davey kisses jack, out here on a van roof wrapped in a blanket, listening to melting snow under a sky full of more stars than either of them could have imagined when they met, that's easy, too. and when they fall asleep, together like they have been sleeping for more than a year, it's easy to forget that anything changed at all because, davey realizes, they've been loving each other this whole time.

it was in the ways jack would pull over on a random farm road in Iowa to pick a pretty wildflower growing in a ditch, and davey would find the flower pressed between the pages of one of his books weeks later, carefully labelled with the date it had been picked. that was jack loving davey. and so was jack's sketchbook, brand new when they left and now so full he'd been adding pages for weeks, and half the drawings included davey's face. and so was jack's easy memorization of davey's order at every fast food place they'd stopped at, his diner go-tos and the drinks he liked when they stopped at an actual restaurant and it wasn't his turn to drive to wherever they were spending the night.

and davey had memorized the same facts about jack, and wasn't that also love? and the way davey would buy a stack of new books and donate the old ones every time they found a good used book store, and he'd sit in the passenger seat and read out loud to pass the time on long stretches of boring road. and when he was driving, wasn't it davey loving jack every time he took a left turn on the hunch there would be cows or horses instead of a right that would get them to where they thought they were going? and when davey found an excuse to stay at the top of a hiking trail lookout for long enough for jack to draw everything he wanted, even when jack kept looking up and saying they should go even when he wanted to keep drawing, wasn't that love, too?

they'd been loving each other this whole time, so maybe those youtube comments weren't the same after all. because maybe this had always been there, and it just took somebody else, somebody with no reason to lie, to point it out before either of them could see the other side.

when they finally, after almost a year and a half, decide it's time to go home to the city they've finally started to miss, they drive all the way out west again first. jack wants to take route 66 as far as it will go, so they drive from santa monica to Chicago and take pictures at every landmark along the way. it takes a month to be satisfied, and a few more days to make it home after that.

it's the last video davey uploads, he doesn't want to keep vlogging now that he's happily settled into his own skin and found a job he doesn't hate. maybe he'll freelance write on the side, eventually write a memoir about the time he and jack spent driving around just to do it.

in the last video, there are the usual clips. jack goofing off and getting himself in some kind of silly trouble, davey being accident prone and only avoiding getting seriously injured by some stroke of minor luck. there's also a shot of the two of them, the camera left a few feet away, standing at the edge of the grand canyon with jack's head on davey's shoulder. a drawing jack did of the two of them sharing breakfast at a little cafe. a video of jack adding his mark to the Cadillac ranch in texas. the two of them looking out from the top of the gateway arch. the kind of casually loving moments that maybe don't mean anything to some people, but that davey knows are exactly the kind of sign others had been picking up on this whole time. only this time, jack and davey know it too.

#if there are typos no there aren't this is too long to edit and I'm Sleepy #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies #idk why jack and davey vanlife called to me so strongly. but it did. so here <3 for you my loving fans

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teruel-a-witch · 1 year

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what if one day steve and danny stumble into what they think is a crime scene but actually turns out to be the production of a cop tv show and the more they find out about the show the more familiar all the details seem until they realise to their horror that someone is making a tv show about a fictionalised version of their team. of course it's highly sensationalised and inaccurate but has just enough details for it to feel creepy and make steve and danny suspect someone they know has fed the production some information. (jerry, it was definitely jerry)

turns out they can't shut it down because all personal information has been changed and there's not enough actual accuracy in the show to impact their procedure/operations since the viewers don't care about accuracy so much as entertainment and interpersonal relationships between characters.

they are, however, welcome to stay and watch the filming as long as they don't interfere. it's actually a bit amusing to watch their all too familiar banter from the outside, danny grins and pointedly looks at steve when his counterpart lectures his partner about recklessly risking his life and steve smirks when his calls danny's 'a nagging wife' which makes danny huff and glare adorably.

nothing could've prepared them to what they saw next, when their characters' usual heated argument suddenly turns into them making out against the wall in the interrogation room right in front of the 'suspect'.

their simultaneous 'what the hell?' startles everyone but the writer and director defend their choice 'just because it didn't happen like that with you guys doesn't mean we aren't allowed some creative license and our viewers respond well to passion. especially since two episodes ago captain o'malley finally confessed his undying love for his partner and sergeant walters reciprocated they are supposed to be unable to keep their hands off of each other. just like you were, i imagine, when you first succumbed to the obvious attraction between you two. all that flirting couldn't be for nothing.'

afterwards danny is quiet and steve angrily promises to have a word with jerry. when they confront him steve asks why, on top of everything, would jerry say that steve and danny are a couple? they are in for another shock when jerry says that he didn't. apparently the production team just assumed, based on all the details and behaviour, because it made more sense for their characters to be romantically involved rather than not.

steve is rattled because he feels exposed but the absence of danny's ranting is worrying so he overcomes his fear to ask what's wrong. danny surprises him with how small and resigned he sounds when he murmurs 'is the idea of being in love with me really so off-putting to you??'

steve realizes his reaction was misinterpreted and ended up hurting danny's feelings so now he has to risk admitting the truth even if it means making things awkward because he can't stand danny thinking he's not worthy of his or anyone else's love.

he never realised he was that obvious and being confronted with the opposite made him act defensively. 'i was bitter, and resentful, it felt like they were throwing what i could never have in my face. how unlikely is it to be hopelessly in love with your best friend and have him magically reciprocate? the chances are probably one in a billion'.

steve is afraid he made things awkward with his confession and tries to leave a speechless danny, until he is stopped with a hand on his wrist and a blinding smile. 'you big oaf, did it never occur to you that i am your one in a billion? now let's make our fictional selves jealous.'

once they are done making up for lost time they send jerry a gift basket.

#mcdanno #tv show within the tv show trope #mcdanno tv show au #h50 headcanons #h50 #myh50 #hawaii five 0 #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #idiots in love #obvious to everyone but themselves #i hope there aren't too many typos because i can't look at it anymore #it's not that long but it took 3 hrs to write for some reason #i just wanted mcdanno's reaction to someone actually finishing what they start #those fake tv shows or movies are always inaccurate but also have some meta commentary on the characters actual feelings #maybe that's why h50 never did one because they couldn't take someone pointing the obvious #mcdanno au

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sparrowmoth · 1 year

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Siúil a Rún • [AO3]

Teen | 3.1K | Malvie | Em. Hurt/Comfort, Angst (Happy Ending)

A/N: Much love and thanks @villainsnest and @finitevoid! <3 Detailed story notes can be found on AO3, if you want them.

CW: Heavy themes (trauma, mental illness, death of a parent, implied suicidal ideation)

Maleficent’s name had been erased from the history books—with a sharpie. It isn’t enough, though. It isn’t enough. Not when Mal still sees the name so clearly in her mind’s eye. The name that… should have been hers—one day—when she impressed her mother, maybe took her throne. Could she have done that? Would she have been permitted? If she had stolen the wand, given it to her mother—

Given her such power, she could live forever. To not need an heir…

Mal tightens her grip on the sharpie, as ever struggling to remember her own strength—and the strength of her feelings, at that. There’s an audible “snap” as the sharpie breaks and a splash of ink splats across Mal’s face and falls in blotches on her textbook—

She doesn’t even react; or, at least, it’s delayed.

Evie’s there before the curses form on Mal’s lips. Evie’s there, with one hand on her arm and the other tugging at the textbook. She says nothing except with her body, her actions—the way she looks down at the ink sprayed over the history of the Moors, once Maleficent’s kingdom and what should be Mal’s home, but isn’t—never will be, probably; the way she looks at Mal, brushes her hair back gently behind her ear, then cups her chin until their eyes meet—

Evie doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t not.

She sets the book on the nightstand next to where Mal’s been laying stomach-down on the bed, her usual position. Evie doesn’t close the book, or try to clean the pages, and especially does not comment on the many streaks of sharpie that will make the book unsellable at the end of their semester.

Evie slips out of her heels and onto the bed, not needing to ask Mal to make space for her. They maneuver up toward the pillows against the headboard, where they settle with Mal half in Evie’s lap, a sigh escaping to tickle Evie’s skin above the cut of her blouse.

Still saying nothing, Evie reaches up and runs her fingers through Mal’s hair, attentive to her body. She’s stiff as a bow string ready to snap, so Evie looks to the lights with a silent command—

The lamps fade quickly from yellow to black. The numbers on their clocks fall away, one by one, like a short line of dominos. The exit sign above the door gives a stubborn flicker, but extinguishes, as well, and finally even the TV, the router, and a night light set to glow in the bathroom are decisively darkened by Evie’s will.

Mal doesn’t thank her. She doesn’t have to. Evie knows.

Things like that are still difficult for them both—not just to say it, but to hear it: thank you, I love you, I don’t know what I’d do without…

Evie takes a slow, deep breath and continues stroking Mal’s hair, eyes wide open in the darkness, ears attentive to Mal’s breathing.

Minutes pass, then an hour, but neither speak—

Until Mal does.

“I used to dream about it,” she whispers, and Evie knows she means the Moors. “I didn’t think it was really… anything. I mean, it didn’t look real. It was—” She shifts against Evie, tilting her head up. Evie knows this from the soft glow stirring up around Mal’s pupils—the only light in the room now. “Beautiful,” says Mal, echoing Evie’s own thoughts as she looks into Mal’s eyes. “I wanted to hate it.”

“You were supposed to,” Evie answers, hand stilling on Mal’s neck.

Mal makes a noise of agreement, looking away. “My mother loved the Moors,” she said quietly, laying her head back against Evie’s chest, “but the place she told me about was so, so different. It was burnt and ugly and good-forsaken. I could see myself there. I…”

Evie waits, listening, knowing there’s more.

“I felt like… one day, I’d belong there.” Mal pauses again on a shaky inhale. “But that place isn’t real, E. It’s not… without my mother. If she’s gone—” And she is. She is gone and has been gone and Mal is struggling not to accept it, but to believe that this time—THIS TIME—she will rot. She will rot and not return. They won’t fucking resurrect her, won’t let her live to make a daughter—

“I shouldn’t even exist. I don’t belong anywhere. I never have. I—”

“Hey,” says Evie, gently, stroking Mal’s arm as she starts to tremble.

“Sorry,” Mal chokes out, that word so big in her throat, it almost never makes it past her lips, but when it does… always for Evie.

Evie shushes her and pulls her closer, entangling their limbs. She rocks them back and forth on the bed so that the mattress faintly creaks from the movement; then, when Mal has calmed enough, Evie tells her in a low voice, “She couldn’t take it all with her.”

“What d’you mean?” Mal mumbles, sounding exhausted.

“The Moors,” says Evie. “Who you are, Máel Breith na Móinteán.”

Mal shivers at the sound of her true name on Evie’s lips. Now, with her mother gone, she’s the only soul in the world it’s been entrusted to. And the only one who’s ever spoken it without asking anything.

Without demanding anything.

Though she could ask and Mal would give it—give her everything. She wonders if she knows that. She wants her to know that—

“We are not our parents,” Evie tells her, taking Mal’s hand in hers and tightly lacing their fingers. “You told us that, remember? I think now you need to hear it, so listen to me… you are not your mother.”

“I know,” Mal replies in a small, shaky voice. “I know, but…”

Evie wants to quiet her, but she doesn’t. She needs to hear this as much as Mal needs to say it, so Evie squeezes her hand and waits.

“Sometimes, I think I… still want to be,” Mal admits in a breathless whisper. “Sometimes, I hate myself more than I ever hated her.” She fists at Evie’s dress with her free hand, starting to speak even faster now, but still in a whisper: “My mother knew who she was—where she belonged. She didn’t need anyone. She didn’t need me. But I—I don’t know who I am without her, E. I don’t know… how to belong somewhere beautiful when I—I can’t trust that I won’t become…”

My mother goes unspoken, but Evie hears it all the same.

She thinks her heart might spill right out from her mouth if she tries to speak, so instead, she pulls Mal impossibly closer, constricting like a snake and refusing to let go. She holds her and holds her.

There is no sound in the room but the both of them breathing.

“Sorry,” says Mal, after a long while, just above a whisper. “I’m such a mess. I’m such a fucking mess. I didn’t mean to drag you into—”

Evie does quiet her this time, finding Mal’s lips in the dark.

They’re startled out of the kiss by a light rap on the door. Jane’s little voice, with quavering authority, calls to them, “Lights out!” before she’s scurrying away, her sensible shoes tap-tapping into nothing.

“She only says that to us,” grumbles Mal, not for the first time.

“I know,” says Evie with a small sigh, leaning in to kiss Mal’s cheek. She lets her head fall back on the pillow, then, and squeezes their hands still held between them. Mal squeezes back and Evie smiles into the darkness, slowly letting her eyes shut and waiting for sleep.

An hour passes. It doesn’t come.

She can feel Mal is restless, lost in her thoughts; as still as she lays there, trying not to let it show, trying not to bother Evie, her body is rigid and her fingers keep twitching and her heart beats so loud—

Evie opens her eyes and places a hand there on the centre of Mal’s chest, drawing Mal’s own eyes to her, aglow like verdant embers.

“Talk to me,” says Evie, too gently to be demanding it.

Mal is quiet for a moment, but then she relents, asking in a tired voice, “Did you ever… dream of Weiss, before we left the Isle?”

Weiss—Snow White’s village; the former seat of the Evil Queen’s throne. Evie’s mother spoke about it often, but in spite of that—

“Not really,” Evie tells her honestly, “but I dreamt about Auradon, about castles and… princes.” Her mother’s dreams, yet her own—for a while, at least. Now, she dreams of dragons and a little stone cottage, the life she hopes to build with the girl here beside her…

Again, Mal is quiet.

“I used to dream of this place burning,” she whispers, at last, and she sounds distant from herself. She blinks and the distance is gone from her voice when she speaks again, asking, “E, would you ever go to Weiss, if you had the chance? Like, if there was a field trip…”

“You’re going to the Moors,” Evie realizes with a soft gasp.

“No,” Mal says immediately, almost defensive. “I don’t know,” she adds a moment later, letting go of Evie’s hand so she can roll onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. “There’s a stupid field school,” she explains, voice muffled by a mouthful of cotton. “It’s this summer. I don’t know. It’s stupid. I don’t even want to go.”

Evie sighs and moves her hand up, rubbing circles at the small of Mal’s back. “You’re afraid they won’t let you go,” she murmurs.

Mal flinches, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Have you applied yet?”

“No,” Mal mumbles, still not lifting her head from the pillow.

Evie hums in answer, moving her hand to trace up and down Mal’s spine, feeling the inhuman points of her vertebrae, near to piercing through her soft flesh. “You said you used to dream about it…”

“Yeah, the Moors, not field school.” Mal huffs out a sigh.

Evie says nothing, but continues her ministrations—up and down, up and down—feeling the tension lessen, feeling the walls start to crumble, feeling Mal’s breaths deepen and her heartbeat slow…

She isn’t asleep, though.

“What if the right thing to do is stay away?” Mal asks in a small voice, head flopping to one side so her cheek rests on the pillow.

“Right for who?” asks Evie, stilling her hand.

“I don’t know. Everyone.”

“You’re someone.”

“I’m her daughter—I don’t get to be her victim,” Mal spits out, eyes flashing. “She could have smothered me in the cradle and they still—” She takes a stuttering breath. “They still wouldn’t have put my name on one of their stupid memorials for all the people she’s…”

“I know, I know,” says Evie, gathering Mal to her chest as the light in her eyes fades. “Hey, it’s okay, just breathe… you’re with me, you’re somewhere safe. Just breathe. Just breathe. Just…”

Evie’s voice fades out into a soothing ambient melody.

Mal inhales deeply—the scent of Evie, the spice of her magic, and something more: deep green woodland, rain-soaked roots, animal musk, and thick, sweet pollen—like a dream of summer—

She pulls back slightly from Evie’s embrace, just enough to tilt her head up toward the speckles of light appearing above them, where the dark ceiling was.

“E,” she says, a little breathless. “Look.”

Evie looks up with her, smiling, and Mal is not even looking at her to know it, but she knows. She knows that Evie sees it, too—not a ceiling, but a sky—a sky full of stars, blinking faintly blue and purple, just around their rough-hewn edges—

An owl hoots and swoops above them, close enough that the breeze washes over their faces. Mal sits up in surprise, steadying herself with her hands, but—the blanket feels different, more like…

“Moss,” she murmurs, fingers closing around a chunk and tearing it up from the earth. She has the strangest, dizzying feeling that the ground has just sunk like a deflating balloon and, all of a sudden—

She reaches behind her, but there aren’t any pillows.

What she finds is Evie’s hand, searching hers out in the dark.

“Look,” says Evie, pointing out where the window should be, and where it is, except that it’s changing—like the curtains are moving, billowing out, unthreading themselves and sprouting green leaves; they’re willow branches now and instead of street lights shining in to the dorm room, there is violet white moonlight and and and—

They are somehow, suddenly, in the middle of a forest.

They are somehow, suddenly, somewhere… else.

And the trees are parting like a crowd of nobles; and where the door used to be, there is a path lit by fireflies, or… a creature quite similar. They aren’t bugs, Mal realizes, but very, very small people—ghostly in their shine—blue and purple, pink and white—

Mal moves to stand, pulling Evie up with her, because she can’t—she won’t let go. She needs to feel Evie’s thin, smooth hand and the coolness of her skin and that squeeze of assurance. I’m here, I’m here.

I see it, too.

Slow and a little shaky, like a newborn deer just finding its footing, Mal takes a step across the mossy clearing. Her feet are bare, but there is nothing sharp here. The moss gives to her weight, softly squelching. She holds her breath, holds Evie’s hand—

At the start of the path, she turns to look at Evie.

Mal had been about to speak, but the words have all withered. She can only stare, taking in the sight of—flowers, white as moonlight, braided into a crown on Evie’s head, her long blue hair cascading in elegantly undone curls—embroidered vines and bluebells running down from her shoulders onto her chest, dripping down past her waist to layers of fine blue fabric in every shade of sky, sea, and sadness—every blue bird, berry, eggshell, gemstone, and iris—

“How are you real?” Mal lets slip from her mind.

Evie just smiles, lips red as ripe strawberry.

“Come,” whisper the fireflies, speaking over each other in a hundred thousand echoes of, “Come, come, come,” like tinkling wind chimes.

Mal looks ahead, down the path, then at Evie, who nods—

It’s a simple gesture, but it gives Mal permission.

Take the lead. I’ll follow.

So, she does—stepping lightly onto packed earth, edged by flowers that bloom in the moonlight, giving way to luminescent mushrooms; they go deep into the shadows of the strange wood, where branches are heavy with draped moss, ferns grow thick, and night birds cry—

A stream runs beside them and, on its other side, a deer-like thing…

Mal almost thinks she knows it.

She isn’t sure until the end of the path, when the woods start to thin and the world opens up onto wide swaths of… moorland. Hills and swamps—stirring grasses—tracts of mud—and the mist aglow…

And oh, she knows it. She knows it. She’s dreamt it.

But she just shakes her head, turning to Evie. “How are we here?”

Evie looks a little sheepish, chewing at her lip. It’s good, Mal thinks. It makes her more… human, less something ethereal. “It’s… where you wanted to go,” Evie tells her softly. “I just opened the door…”

“To—where I wanted to go?” Mal’s voice is faint, almost inaudible. She stares out at the Moors, unsure what she’s feeling. It feels like home, but is it just familiar? How could it even be that, just from a dream—even many dreams over? This isn’t her home. She doesn’t, she’ll never, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t—

No.

She’s something invasive. She’s something hated.

But there’s a hare just ahead, stepping out from the shrubs, and it’s fixed her with its black eye and it doesn’t look afraid. It… wants her to follow. She hears that whispered from the grasses. Go—go on now.

Evie squeezes her hand. I’m with you.

Mal’s heartbeat thumps in time with the hare’s feet as it leads across the Moors, up a hill, to a rocky place. There were walls here once—now just crumbling stone—and in the centre of it all…

Maleficent’s throne.

Not even thinking, Mal starts to bow—or her knees are just buckling—she isn’t really sure. But she knows that Evie catches her, stops her from kneeling, pulls her back to her feet and steadies her there—

Mal doesn’t pull away, even when she’s sure it’s safe to.

“Do you want to leave?” asks Evie, her voice as gentle as ever.

Slowly, at first, and then with more conviction, Mal shakes her head, staring the throne down. “My mother was supposed to protect this place.” Her voice is quiet, but so are the Moors now—like they’re straining to listen. “Instead, it needed to be protected from her.”

Mal pauses, thoughtful, and looks at Evie. “I don’t want to be her.” She’s said it before, but never like this: “I don’t have to be her.” It’s the first time she believes it, saying it like that, and she’s surprised that she does; she’s surprised that she can say—what she wants is—

Mal stops again, glancing back over her shoulder.

There’s eyes on her. She can feel them. So many eyes, but she can’t see a soul. Not even the hare who led them here to the throne…

Evie takes both her hands, causing Mal to meet her gaze.

“What do you want, M?”

Mal stands a little straighter. “I want to be what she wasn’t.”

All the sounds of the Moors fade back in with a rush, and the wind, like a cat, winds in circles between them, whispering affections that have both of them smiling. They hear it from the grass, too, and the birds and the insects, and the thump-thump of hare’s feet, and the chatter of vole teeth—the queen is dead, long live her daughter—

There’s an audible crack, drawing Mal’s attention.

Evie looks toward it, too, and sees it with her—a jagged line through the throne back, splitting down through the seat, and—the two sides come apart and fall away from each other, crumbling to nothing—

Stones left to inherit, and Mal’s never felt lighter.

She wakes in the morning, entangled with Evie and her memories of the Moors. She can feel the bed beneath her, hear the voices in the hall. They are back in the dorm room, like they never left, but…

Mal opens her eyes and looks at Evie, still with flowers in her hair, but completely dishevelled. She’s beautiful always, even like this—no, especially like this—exhausted from her magic, drained of all her defences, trusting everything to Mal as she’s resting close beside her.

This, thinks Mal—this love, alone, is enough, and she sees it now.

She will never be her mother.

She loves too much.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. If you’d like to leave a kudos or comment on AO3, I’d really love that, as well! ♥

#descendants #malvie #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #descendants fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #descendants fandom #this fic brought to you by divine visions #really though the Images just struck me like lightning #I wrote this like a person possessed #and I have not read it #so hopefully it makes sense and there aren't any typos #honestly I feel proud of it so I'm just going to bask in that #djaskjgkdsjkg #ENJOY <3

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