#ive actually asked if he misses anyone from his canon since he “had a busy life” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maaarshieee · 1 year

Note

hey hi! i saw u asking for dottore requests so here i am with one :)

how about what a relationship w dottore is like while ur both attending the akademiya? before he was expelled? i would love to see ur interpretation on what he was like and what it was like to be with him!

also for the reader could i possibly ask it to be male? if not then gender neutral is fine! thank u in advance! <33

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐇𝐂𝐬 𝐰/ 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 ୧ ⎯⎯

➢ Iʟ Dᴏᴛᴛᴏʀᴇ x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

a/n - ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH IVE BEEN ACTUALLY THINKING ABOUT WRITING THIS ILYSM /P this wasn't my best but honestly i just needed to write him,, titled "akademiya days HCs w/ dottore", have a good day/night!! ALSO PLS REQUEST THIS MAN, I PROMISE I CAN WRITE BETTER THAN THSI.

↬ cw: established long-term relationship with reader, mentions of experiments, canon typical violence, slight obsession (basic dottore warnings) usage of the name 'zandik' for dottore

You've known him, Zandik, for as long as you can remember. From childhood to your teenage years. Together, you were chased out of your hometown. Him, for being a "madman", and you, for supporting and even encouraging his maniacal tendencies.

You only went to Sumeru Akademiya to be with him since the two of you were practically inseparable. You wanted to stay by his side and help him with his experiments. That, and also the fact he needed you.

He will never outright express it, but without you, it just doesn't feel right. Like he's missing something very important. You.

At first, it didn't really mean anything to him when you stayed, but the more you stuck around? The more he was internally grateful for you staying with him, even if he wasn't the best to be with.

And the more he has to keep you with him. No matter what. Luckily, you're not letting go of him either. The two of you were a perfect match. Both have loose screws in their heads and are madly in need of each other.

Perhaps for eternity.

So he does these things for you when the two of you shared a house back in Sumeru. It's always the little things about with him. Doing the laundry before you do it, organizing your files of research when you fall asleep on your desk in midst of trying to finish them, helping you with your studies, and many more.

Sometimes he'd add notes and corrections to your research papers whenever he happens to get his hands on them.

Zandik knew you were never engrossed in researching and would rather do things with his instructions instead, so he'd help you do your tasks if it meant keeping you close to him at all times.

He'd cook you breakfast if he wasn't too busy, but he'd always complain about he has to cook for the two of you every morning when you can always just cook for yourself, albeit later, and won't be eating with him.

Zandik is so subtle in showing his love for you, but you've been with him for so long, enough to be able to understand what his actions meant. But back when you were at the Akademiya? He was like a househusband. Hell, he even folded your clothes for you and you had to scold him to stop.

He merely rolled his eyes, saying; "Your room is a mess. How can you live in this filth?"

You're caressing my clothes like a weirdo, is what you wanted to say but you knew better and kept your mouth shut. After all, you'd often steal his clothes, just wrap them around you and inhale his scent.

Since he's the type to never really mingle around others, often intimidating them or just being plain rude enough for them to start avoiding him, you took the role of being the sociable one. Basically talking to others to get more information about anything and if it's of use, you'd tell Zandik.

And he greatly appreciates how helpful you are, especially when he abhors conversing with seemingly brainless, so-called scholars of Sumeru.

You're really the only person he could tolerate the most.

Always together. From walking the halls of the Akademiya, in classes, libraries, anywhere. Anyone who knows you would always see you together. It was always odd when the other is absent next to them.

Though, to others, sometimes it wasn't clear if the two of you were in a relationship or just really close friends. Mostly because the two of you never indulge in (obvious) PDA.

Scholars would see the two of you in the library, minding each other's business, and would occasionally speak to each other. Or the banter the two of you would share here in there, usually consisting of you crying to annoy Zandik and him telling you to shut up.

But they don't even notice the hand he'd always have at the small of your back. Or the way he'd ask you if you need any help with your research. Or the way he'd always bring you coffee when he buys one himself.

It's not like both of you hate PDA, it's more like you act naturally with each other. Sometimes you'd even hold onto his arm, to which he would give you a questioning look but would never push you away.

It's the subtly outsiders of your relationship won't ever get. And you both prefer it that way.

Back at the Akademiya, it was rather docile and tame beside the secret experiments behind closed doors. Being with him was both chaotic and calm.

One moment he'd be making a fuss about his experiments to you, willingly doing errands for him to quell his frustrations, then you'd be laying on the floor, dozing off to the sounds of pen scribbling on paper, a small huff of amusement coming from Zandik.

There were many things he'd do for you, and you share the same sentiment. So, if someone were to insult you? Make you uncomfortable or just look at you in the wrong way? Well, next time you'll be seeing them strapped on a metal bed.

───── ❝ encore! ❞ ─────

"I'm honestly running out of ideas." You sighed, an arm covering your eyes while you sprawled yourself onto the cool floor. Papers surrounded your laid form, an utter mess in the middle of Zandik's way whilst he just wanted to go towards the kitchen to prepare dinner for both of you.

You were supposed to do your chores for tonight, but it's clear he'd also have to take up those tasks as well. Not when you're lamenting your own 'doom' if you've not passed your research on its due date. Not like you cared about graduating, you just thought it would be nice to achieve something while you're at Sumeru Akademiya. And now you're at risk of not graduating if you don't pass it in time.

Zandik always found humor in the way you'd fuss over your research though. You always said you've never cared, but it was clearly obvious you did. He knew you had other goals before you indulged yourself in his, so he never held you back on your own research and experiments while you were at the Akademiya. It's also nice to see you so dedicated to other things, especially if it's something you're very passionate about.

"Who knew this would be much more stressful than your research?" You grunted when Zandik nudged you to move aside with his foot, unceremoniously stepping on your thesis papers which earned a glare from you. "I hate the Akademiya..." You'd mumbler under your breath. He merely scoffed at your behavior, ignoring your existence once he finally arrived at the kitchen.

Knowing him, you sat up from the floor and made sure you were a meter away from the line drawn on the ground. Zandik put that there since, as it turns out, you're never to be trusted in the kitchen, with or without his supervision. He couldn't simply comprehend how the kitchen was up in flames when he turned away for a few moments, mistakenly trusting you to cook eggs. Eggs.

A hazard is what he calls you. So the kitchen became his territory in the house you shared. You're only allowed to enter after he's done cooking. If you somehow find yourself in the kitchen? Expect a flying spatula right at your face. You never really minded, you always preferred his cooking.

Plus, you get to see him roll up his sleeves and put on an apron.

When he was finished, he called out your name, inviting you into the kitchen. Once you entered, your stomach immediately let out a loud growl as your mouth watered at the sight of your favorite food. "Oh, is there an occasion?" You asked, taking a seat opposite of him, and immediately started digging in after you'd thanked him.

Zandik raised a brow at you, sipping on his cup of tea before saying; "No, nothing of sorts." You just let out a thoughtful hum, a smile etching your lips at each bite.

"Ah, then why?" He could only sigh at your question, grabbing a napkin and wiping the mess you've made at the corners of your mouth and your chin. You only leaned in closer, staring at his crimson eyes.

"Do I require a reason to cook something you like? It just happened to be what's available for tonight." He scoffed, shaking his head, and went back to eating his food with an annoyed expression.

You let out a silent chuckle, letting it go, and continued to eat instead. You guess that he needn't a reason, but you felt so much better after he cooked your favorite meal.

He's never straightforward with you sometimes, no? Well, as they say, actions speak louder than words.

If you want to be tagged in future works, fill out this form to be added to my taglist! Remember that usernames are only lowercase and have no spaces!

Taglist: @anniejourn, @dilucssiliconedildo, @achlysyo, @sunoo-bby

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

#il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #:;marshie.writes #:;requested #:;headcanons #:;drabble #:;il.dottore

529 notes · View notes

pluviophile-imagines · 4 years

Note

LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

933 notes · View notes

imagineyourworld-old · 3 years

Text

Timing

Poe Dameron x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: You are in love with your best friend Poe, your best friend Poe is in love with you. Is there a chance for you love even though you realize it at different times?

Warnings: Angst, might differ from canon (is there even a canon for what happened after ROS?)

-------

It retrospect you should have known it was a bad idea. You knew Poe like the back of your hand, you should have anticipated his reaction. But he was leaving for a dangerous mission to Jakku the next day and you couldn’t bare the thought of never telling him how you felt. So you gathered all your courage and did it. “Poe?”, you started. The pilot, who was laying on his bed next to you, turned his eyes away from his datapad to face you. “What is it, honey?” The way he looked at you made your heartbeat quicken and your hands clammy. Even though he was tired, had dark rings under his eyes and his hair hadn’t seen a brush in weeks, he was the most handsome man you had seen in your life. Part of you knew that he had no reason to return your feelings, he could have anyone he wanted and more often than not invited various people to his room after a night of celebration while you prefered to stay in your quarters altogether. “I love you.” The words rolled off your tongue as if you’d said them a thousand times before. You and Poe had never shied away from showing or voicing your affection for the other, not when you were kids on Yavin IV, not in the academy and not when you joined the resistance. But this time you tried your best to convey the word’s true meaning, to make him realize what you yourself had realized years ago, that there was no one else for you, that Poe was not your best friend, he was your soulmate, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The man in question let go of his datapad to capture your hands in his. Gently he stroked your knuckles before pressing a soft kiss to them. “I love you too.” The way he said it made it obvious to you what he meant. You’re my best friend and I love you. Not You’re the one I have fallen for and I love you. You shook your head. When you thought back to that day this was the moment you wanted to erase, the one you wished had never happened. “No, Poe. I am in love with you.” If he noticed the tremble in your voice he didn’t comment on it. Instead, fast as lightning, Poe sat up straight and looked at you, really looked at you. “What?” By now you knew that you had screwed up, but his reaction told you that he had understood you perfectly. It was disbelief that made him ask that question and you had no other choice than to repeat yourself. “I am in love with you, Poe.” His eyes darkened. You were looking for anger in them, maybe frustration, but all you found was fear and... regret? “How can you say that? You’re my best friend, how can you say that you’re in love with me?” You opened your mouth and closed it again. Poe knew, he had to know, that at least half of the Resistance had a crush on him, so why did it come as a surprise that the same went for his best friend, the one he spent more time with than anyone else? “I... I just needed to tell you before tomorrow. You know how dangerous this mission is going to be and if anything were to happen I want to to know how loved you are.” Finally Poe let go of your hands. He ran a hand through his dark curls, again and again. It was a nervous habit he had picked up from his father when he was a kid and usually you found it endearing, but today it only made you feel worse. “Just forget it. Please. Let’s just watch a holovid or something and forget I ever said anything”, you begged. Tears were shining in your eyes and when the first rolled down Poe, his fingers gentle as ever, brushed it away. “I think I’d rather go over the mission plan again”, he smiled at you and anyone who wasn’t his best friend might have found that smile convincing, but you knew better. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright?” You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded. Of course you would see him off before his big mission, you always did. Just as you always spend the evening before the mission together, usually sleeping in the same bed, holding each other close in case... just in case. It had been things like that that had made you think that there was a chance that Poe felt the same way. The secret smiles he sent you, the small touches whenever you were within reach, the way he made it obvious to you that you came first, sometimes even before the Resistance. Without another word Poe hurried out of your room. It wasn’t until the door closed behind him and you heard a soft beep that you realized he had been in such a hurry to get away from you that he had forgotten to take BB8 with him. “You wanna go after him?” Tears were now flowing from your eyes and there was a hiccup in your voice, which was surely the reason the droid decided to keep you company for a little while longer.

-------

The next day Poe had already left when you arrived at the hanger, even though you were earlier than the agreed upon time. When he returned you ran up to him. You had thought he was dead and even if he didn’t return your feelings, he was still your best friend. At least that’s what you thought. You tried your best to hate Finn, but you just couldn’t. Yes, Poe had pretty much chosen him as his new best friend, but he was just so nice and kind and considerate, you couldn’t hate him. Besides, it was not Finn’s fault that you had been replaced. The first couple of month you blamed yourself., You shouldn’t have told Poe that you loved him, if you hadn’t nothing would have changed. Then you blamed Poe. You had never demanded that he loved you back, but you had been friends since before you could talk, how could he just throw all those years away? How could he refuse even your most innocent, most desperate, attempts at conversation? No matter how mad you were at Poe, your love for him was unchanged. You saw him every day and he was as kind and brave and funny and handsome as ever, all the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place were still there. Of course you were glad when the war ended and the First Order was defeated for all the right reasons, but part of you was glad you could leave the Resistance. They no longer needed you now that it was time to rebuild instead of fight. If all your hope of Poe ever loving you hadn’t died long ago it might have rekindled when you said goodbye. For the first time in forever he took time to actually talk to you. And though his hug seemed as warm and sincere as ever, you couldn’t believe his words. “I’m sad to see you go, but I’ll visit soon.” Of course you nodded, of course you hugged him back, but part of you know just how hollow his words really were. They had to be.

-------

Poe felt bad for how long it had been since he last visited his father. Though Kes never complained, Poe knew the old man missed his son and wanted to see him more often. But there was just so much to do, so whenever he did visit it was usually spontaneous and never for more than a couple of hours. He opened the front door, not bothering to knock. This was his home after all, even if he rarely ever visited. The smells that greeted Poe were familiar; his mum’s favourite flowers that his dad always kept someone in the house, a freshly brewed cup of tea and something that smelled like a distant childhood memory. Even though it should have been impossible, the sound he heard as soon as he stepped through the door was even more familiar. It send sparks flying through his body and made a grin spread on his face. Quickly he put a finger to his lips to tell BB8 next to him to be quiet. It had been so long since he last heard your laughter. Sometimes at night he heard it in his dreams, saw your face along with his mum’s. The two women he loved more than anything, the two women he lost. Shara’s death hadn’t been his fault, but not a day went by that Poe didn’t blame himself for letting you go. He had been too focused on the war, on saving people and making a better future to realize that the reason he fought, the person he wanted to spend his future with had been right beside him all along. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it when you told him that you loved him, why it had taken not having you in his life to come to the realization that he wanted you in his life, more than anything. And perhaps this was his chance. He tried to be as quiet as possible on his way to the living room, but as soon as he entered both you and Kes turned around. His father was the first to get up and envelop Poe in a hug. “What a surprise. How are you? You must be hungry, can I get you anything?” Poe declined the offer. Even if he had been hungry, his nerves wouldn’t have allowed him to swallow a single bite. He felt bad for basically ignoring his father, but how could he not when you were standing right there? “(Y/N), it’s... You look...” Beautiful wasn’t enough to describe you. Even covered in grease and sweat with only a couple hours of sleep you had been pretty, but now you had no circles under your eyes, your hair was shiny and looked just so soft and there was an aura around you that could only be described as peace and happiness. And though Poe was glad you seemed happy, it did sting a bit that you were so happy without him. “It’s been a while”, you smiled. If Poe hadn’t been in love with you before that smile would have made him fall for you. In retrospect he had no idea how he had gone most of his life without being in love with you. “I’ll let the two of you catch up. I should get to the kitchen anyway, Oscar should be here soon”, Kes declared and with an affectionate pad on his son’s shoulder he left the room. Poe was so busy staring at you that it took him a while to process his dad’s words. “Who is Oscar?” The soft smile on your face grew bigger than Poe had ever seen it and a spark took hold of your eyes. He couldn’t categorize that expression, but he knew that he wanted to see it every day for the rest of his life. He only realized that he had gotten closer to you when he suddenly felt your body heat. He hadn’t meant to, but something about you pulled him in like a magnet. He reached out a hand to push a strand of hair behind your ear, but the second he heard your word’s the hand fell. “My husband.” “Your... your... you’re married?” Thoughts were chasing in Poe’s head. How could he not have known that you were married? How could you marry someone else when he was so in love with you? Instead of an answer you simply raised your hand. There was a ring where, in his dreams, Poe had seen his mother’s ring countless times. It was fairly simple, and yet it seemed expensive. More expensive than anything Poe could ever have given you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he finally asked after moments of silence. You shrugged, a gesture that was so achingly familiar that it took Poe’s breath away. “We weren’t really talking anymore.” Of course you were right. Ever since you left the Resistance the two of you hadn’t spoken. Poe knew it was selfish of him to expect that you should have told him, should have invited him so he could have stopped the love of his life from marrying someone else. “Oh...”, was all he was able to say. He should have know that you wouldn’t be in love with him forever, but it hurt even more learning that you were married the day he had planned on telling you that he was in love with you. It had taken Finn and Rey months of trying to convince him to just tell you, after all you lived on Yavin IV, so it’s not like he had to see you every day if you didn’t return his feelings, he could have just left and tried to move on. Maybe, he thought, that was the very reason you had moved on, because you never saw Poe anymore. If only he had visited you as well as his dad, if only he had begged you to stay when you decided to leave, if only he had realized how he felt when you confessed your love. “Your dad invited us to dinner, so you’ll meet Oscar when he arrives in half an hour. He’s still at work right now, but-” “I can’t stay”, Poe cut you off. It hurt knowing that you were married and seeing your love for your husband in your eyes, but Poe knew that seeing the two of you together would break him. “Another time then”, you said with a soft smile. A smile Poe just wanted to kiss off your lips but never could. When you hugged him goodbye he breathed in your familiar smell, but underneath that there was a slight hint of a cologne that must be your husband’s. In a single second memories rushed through Poe’s brain. You wearing his shirt and laughing. You falling asleep in his arms. You hugging Shara and Kes before the two of you left for the academy. And the image that haunted his dreams of you with a baby in your arm, BB8 at your feet and Shara’s ring on your finger. Poe didn’t know how you had managed to survive after he had rejected you because he felt like he was drowning. He barely heard his father’s soft “I’m so sorry, son” or your “We’ll need to catch up soon”. It wasn’t until he was in hyperspace that tears starting rolling down his cheeks and neither the stars flying by nor BB8′s comforting beeps could make him feel better. At least you were happy, that was the only thought that brought him any comfort.

-------

Once again I should just finish my other stories before writing a new one, but this idea was just begging to be written.

I might write a second part, if anyone would want to read it, though I’m not sure yet.

Also please excuse that I couldn’t come up with a better name for the husband, but I guess the reader just has a type.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron angst #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars reader insert

88 notes · View notes

ask-the-party-god · 4 years

Text

Ask The Party God - Timeline

the pre-terezi-gang timeline post is here

height references over here

hi, im jade! everyones favorite party goddess and trans doggy girl~ but you already know that! if youre reading this, it means youre interested in learning more about my reality, because paradox space is fucking weird like that and you cant really be sure all the time

as far as im aware, everything up to the point where we beat the game happened without deviations from the alpha timeline? so this is what rose has talked about as a ‘terminal timeline’, or ‘post-canon’, or whatever the hell that is supposed to mean

we got to earth-c, and i settled in the troll kingdom because trolls are cool, dave and karkat were in the neighborhood, and the caverns are close by so i can visit rose and kanaya speedily as well! i still do have my old tower out on an island, with my workshop and garden, but i almost never sleep in it, too far away and isolated from everyone...

then one day i found this old active server in the furthest ring keeping tumblr active and i thought, hey, why not have some fun? ;D

as for the others...

my darling sis june egbert! she lives in the consort kingdom, but has been thinking about relocating elsewhere lately! she went through a rough patch right after the game, unsure of what to do and full of all sorts of doubts and questions, but shes doing a lot better nowadays! specially now that terezi is back, shes been a lot more peppy and hanging around with the lalondes particularly!

rose rose rose rose~ happily married to her wife kanaya, duh, but that doesnt make her any less of a flirty cutie! a while back she got really sick for a bit, and weve been keeping an eye on her just in case it happened again, but its been all good ever since! she helps kanaya at the caverns a bunch, which makes her schedule busy busy... and you didnt hear this from me, buuuut words out on the street that she and kanaya may be warming to the idea of having a kid! <3 well see how that goes!

one cool dude~ daves a little bit of a shut-in honestly! and honestly i dont blame him? he must be tired after all the timeline and time travel shenanigans, so he spends a good chunk of his time hanging out in his and karkats house! hes kind of awkward about opening up with feelings and stuff, and ive been trying to nudge him to be more open for a while! but with all the craziness thats been going down lately, and more people coming and going and getting together, hes starting to consider things he hadnt before~ hopefully, some specific someones? ;)

janey! my uh... ecto-mom, technically, although we see each other more like cousins than anything else! she still owns crockercorp, but ever since jasprose has been around, she has been spending a lot more time at home and just hanging out with her friends, which really, sounds a lot healthier than the big business thing she had going on a while back! she enjoys teaching me baking stuff, but doesnt have much patience for my decorating skills ;p

grandpa! and grandson technically, hehe, jakes kind of a weird case, hes a mixture of a shut-in, a celebrity and an adventurer! he can spend up to weeks at a time without leaving his manor, but then hell have full weeks of interviews and hiking, and thats not to say anything of when he and dirk put out another episode or two of their dumb comedy talkshow... hes often busy with stuff, but hes still a good pal and can clear his schedule in seconds if we need him for something!

one sweet nb dude! rox really is... something else, really! fun to tag along at a party, fun to chill at home playing games, fun to talk about more serious stuff and open up with him, he really is just solid as they come! hes been hanging out a lot more with june since she got out of her depressive slump, but sometimes i wonder if junebug finds weird to get flirty with roxy, considering im pretty sure we made out in front of her at some point or two... hehehe

dirk! if daves a bit of a shut-in, hes a shut-in times two, which is weird because youd think someone stuck in post-apocalyptic earth for so long would want to hang out more? not to say he DOESNT, though! hes around jake often enough, and keeps close to jane, roxy and dave specially! we dont see each other too often, but we HAVE been messing around with robots and planning out to upgrade our respective self-bots for funsies!

aradia! we only met briefly in dreams for the longest time, but i knew already that she was a riot! she came with terezis group after she finally found vriska, and seems pretty happy just... kind of... being around and watching shenanigans ensue! i actually dont know where she lives, but she drops by occasionally, because im apparently pretty ‘fun’... cant say i disagree ;)

sollux is blind, and not dead, and WILL kick you in the shins if you keep prying about how exactly he ended up like that, which is fair enough! he spends a good chunk of his time with aradia, and im not sure if theyre dating or not...? but hes been around the other trolls a bunch! specially kanaya, apparently theyre good friends that go way back! i guess they both DO style their hair similarly, with the side spike thingies...

the other half of the dave-kat duo! swooooon~ really though, i cant remember the last time i said “dave” or “karkat” without talking about the other shortly after... buuut theyre just roomies, and hell get awkward and grumpy if you even so slightly IMPLY otherwise, despite the fact everyone knows they fall asleep leaning against each other during friday movie night! roooolling my eyes~ with the rest of the living trolls having arrived, hes been a lot more willing to go outside, which im glad for! its healthy to get some fresh air from time to time, and specially hang out with friends!

oh-la-la, miss maryam-lalonde herself! kanayas the matriarch of the caverns, and quite the busy gal, having taken it upon herself to supervise her entire species reproduction and well-being... in my opinion, she needs a good vacation from time to time, and to be less of a workaholic! >:o ive been helping her occasionally in the caverns, and as of late weve begun trying to mess around with ectobiology for some troll-human crossing experiments with... not good results so far... but hey, rome wasnt built in a day!

terezis back, yes! after spending YEARS out there looking for vriska, she managed to find her and come back, the madwoman! personally im not sure why anyone would go to such lengths for... her... but also, its not my bond, not my place to speak, she obviously really loves her a bunch! with vriska no longer lost in the middle of the furthest ring, shes started to catch up with everything going on with earth-c, and i think shes really going to like being around! specially with how much june and the rest have missed her ;)

troublemaker extraordinaire herself! shes... well, shes vriska, im pretty sure she stole that eyepatch from sollux? so you just know she up to no good already >:/ speaking of her eyepatch, im not sure WHY shes wearing it? whatever kinda wound she got, she doesnt like mentioning it, despite bragging about defeating english at every chance she gets! terezi says they found her popping in and out of consciousness in the furthest ring with some messy wounds, and that shed probably been hovering out there after the fight for years... doesnt seem to have humbled her in the slightest <.<

callieeeee! theyre super sweet and wonderful but also really shy and awkward! they live with roxy but manage to outdo dirk in terms of shut-in-ness... they also totally like roxy but is unsure about approaching those feelings considering the whole species thing and whatever, ive been trying to get them to open up for a while now! weve written fanfic together and drawn grids, so i can definitely tell theres some attraction there, even if theyre afraid of acting upon it just yet <3

jaspie is roses bane, and the one cat that made me get used to their smell enough that i dont bark at them instantly anymore! im pretty sure she crashes at janes often, and is just as outgoing and flirty as i am around earth-c parties and bars, which is saying something honestly! i wont let her dethrone me as the party god, though >:)

and finally davepeta! theyre staying with june for the time being until they can get settled around and see what they want to do here! theyve also dropped by dave and karkats a bunch, which i most certainly dont mind! i definitely appreciate some help in bringing a romantic vibe into those twos lives~ ;o

and thats about it! theres also the nannasprites and tavrosprite and arquius, but they pop by so sporadically and rarely that i dont know what theyre doing a majority of the time... we lost track of gamzee after the session so hopefully hes totally gone, and we havent heard any message from caliborn in years... and with the furthest ring broken and the black hole sealed, leaving a weird white empty space right in the middle of reality, im not sure what our chances of bringing back the other trolls are :( but still, we keep living on happily over here and having our fun slice of life ending together!

id say after everything weve gone through, we deserve a big break, dont we? hehehe <3

also, particularly important events that happen and are recorded in this blog will be tagged as timeline shenanigans!

17 notes · View notes

alltheworldsinmyhead · 5 years

Photo

MAKE MY MESSES MATTER (MAKE MY CHAOS COUNT)

THE 100 / BELLARKE/ CANON DIVERGENCE SINCE S2 FINALE

AO3

{First letters come when frost finally lets go of the river. / a.k.a. clarke leaves to heal herself; it doesn't mean she abandons anyone }

This fic is dedicated to the best reviewer, best beta and best friend in the entire world - Lana, darling, I don't deserve you <3 <3.

**********************************************************************

I‘ll see you in the future when we’re older

And we are full of stories to be told

Cross my heart and hope to die

I’ll see you with your laughter lines

- Laughter Lines, Bastille

First letters come when frost finally lets go of the river.

It’s not spring yet, and Echo told him not to let anyone get their hopes too high- weather is unpredictable and cold can come back quickly and violently, but – fuck, winter was so hard and now there are flowers blooming in-between ponds of mud and still-remaining snow. People are laughing again, letting yellow light of spring sun kiss their pale, frostbitten faces and Bellamy slowly, very slowly lets himself take a breath. It feels as if he was holding it ever since first snows hit them, when they were so epically unprepared and if it wasn’t for Lincoln, they’d probably all be dead by Winter Solstice (what an irony- Bellamy thinks sometimes, looking at Lincoln wrestling with kids, helping Abby, kissing Octavia- what an irony indeed).

And even with Lincoln, there was nothing easy about those last few months and Bellamy’s hands are calloused and rough from digging too many graves in the frozen ground. And then flu hit them and there were too many bodies to bury, so they burned them instead. He can still almost smell it; this strangely sweet smoke smelling like meat, which was making their empty stomachs growl, which in turn would make them sick.

There was nothing easy from the beginning till the end and the hardest part was that there was a huge hole with jagged edges where Clarke was supposed to be and where she wasn’t, his ‘together’ haunting his dreams and hers ‘you won’t be by yourself’ mocking him over and over again.

But now spring is finally truly coming, days become longer and he manages to sleep more than an hour or two during most nights, so he decides to focus on positives.

Letters come when Bellamy’s on a hunting trip deep in the forests; they are waiting for him in Arkadia along with Echo. She was a frequent visitor during the winter; serving as their link to the situation between clans, telling them all about Lexa’s trial, about the fall of the treaty, about wars coming and ending and beginning ( because all this world is war, war and war, constantly. Never stopping, not even to take a breath). The only thing she wasn’t telling them about is, well.

Clarke.

Bellamy knows Echo knows where Clarke is. Or at least, has a general idea. She slipped it, once or twice, mentioning some ‘Wanheda’ in a tone living legends are spoken about, but the person she described didn’t seem like his Clarke at all. His Clarke was soft eyes and steel turned skin and blood under her fingernails because she was saving somebody, not because she strangled someone with them. His Clarke was hummed lullabies and her father’s worn-out watch and grace with every movement… but his Clarke is gone and he doesn’t know if she’s ever coming back and hearing about new Clarke is too painful, so he’d rather not know anything at all.

Echo is sitting in front of his cabin, eyes closed, facing the sun and well, it turns out that not only Sky People are done with winter. She greets him with a simple nod and tells him that she has something for him. He expects everything, but a small package haphazardly wrapped in some kind of green cloth, smooth under his fingers and tied with a piece of string.

“This went through a long journey”- Echo informs while handing him the bundle. “One of the traveling clans from North brought it to my village, asking if anyone still keeps any kind of contact with Sky People. They really didn’t want to bring it in here themselves. “

Echo draws abstract lines on the fabric of her pants with her index finger, looking down and apparently thinking how to tell him something, while Bellamy fights with an urge to smile grimly. Apart from Echo and Lincoln, they haven’t spotted a single Grounder during winter. Not that Bellamy complained about it- they certainly had enough trouble even without them- but he had found it strange, until he realized that the legend of Clarke is not only a legend of Clarke but also the legend of Sky People- Those Who Burn, he heard Echo saying one time, Those Who Burn everything standing in their way.

(what an irony)

“Just- just open it.”- says Echo eventually, raising her head to look into his eyes. “ And if you want to send anything back, let me know.”

She waves to him goodbye before he can get a chance to say anything and turns around quickly, her boots making soft, cracking noises on wet snow and mud. He is left standing in front of the hut with the package still in his hands, frozen in time and space, a good few minutes before he manages to move again.

He leaves the bundle by the doors and just - goes. To do things that don’t really need to be done, supervise people who are doing just fine without him hovering, piss off O ( ‘’What the fuck is wrong with you, Bell’’ ) and have yet another unnecessary shouting match with Abby before he’s able to come back and dare to unwrap it.

The string lets go easily, the cloth parts and Bellamy can see pile of – paper? Is it really paper?- few dried flowers, which slip from his knees and land on the ground and a greenish, nice smelling thing, which appears to be some kind of bark.

Half of the sheets of paper- which is also gray-green and there are tiny plant veins visible on their surface – turn out to be empty. The other half is full of words- words spilling on the margins, words on words, words chaotic and wild and crazy and-

II.

Dear Bellamy,

It’s been twenty –two days and I think I’m losing my mind. I bumped into a Grounder hunting party today; they just dropped their weapons and things and ran away from me, so I took their things I guess I’m a thief now, why not, actually so they had this paper and a pen, it must be from before the Apocalypse and it still works, can you believe? And I started to write this, I heard people used to write letters to their loved ones when they were away-

Dear Bellamy,

It’s been thirty –seven days, I wonder how Monty’s doing, how you are doing, how are you all doing, it’s so cold, I fell asleep on a tree branch and now I can’t feel my fingers, it hurts, Bellamy, it hurts to even-

Dear Bellamy,

It’s been fifty days, I found a bark which works miracles on frostbites you should give it to my mother or Lincoln, or I should’ve given it to them, but I’m not with you, I’m alone here, I think I’ve lost my mind-

Dear Bellamy,

It’s been exactly fifty-eight days-

I miss you

Dear Bellamy,

I’m haunted by myself.

III.

First, she catches a terrible cold. Then she slips on a thin layer of ice while hunting and injures her head and she doesn’t even remember how she manages to crawl into the cave she has been living in for some time and collapse on the fur. Her head is spinning, burning red and she sees Wells and Finn and her dad and Bellamy-

“Are you dead?”- she asks, confused and then he looks at her and she sees his body drained out blood, his eyes desperate, his hands stretched out, reaching for her:

“You told me to go.”- he says and his voice makes her shiver.” You told me to go and I went, was it worth it?”

Was it worth it was it worth it was it worth it Clarke was it worth it tell us Clarke tell us weren’t we worth it was it worth us – dead men of her life repeat and repeat and Clarke screams and screams and screams until her voice dies out and she drifts into a blackness and there’s nothing and nobody around her anymore.

IV.

Dear Bellamy,

I’m on the coast now, in Luna’s clan village. Their language is like a song on a wind; you’d love it. Luna sends her love to Lincoln. I had- rough time during winter, you can probably tell from the other letters. But those people helped me and –

Bell, they don’t seem to be afraid of me. I don’t remember them being involved in Mount Weather war, but they must’ve heard of it, heard of me. Still, nobody here treats me like other Grounders. Travelers stopped in a village and they agreed to bring my letters to Camp Jaha, even if they didn’t seem completely comfortable with it. I hope you’ll get it. It’s not much –and I don’t expect to get anything back – but that’s the best I can do now.

I just want you to know I think about you every day. All the time. And I’m so, so sorry, Bell.

Out of all the terrible things I’ve done, I’m most sorry for the ones I did to you.

I miss you,

Clarke

“She doesn’t get to do this shit!”

Octavia’s all flaming anger, standing in the middle of his hut and waving her hands.

“Not after she left. She left us, she left you; she doesn’t get to write you things like that!’’

But Bellamy’s angry too, anger to match Octavia’s, slowly burning his insides.

“Who the fuck allowed you to read it? How do you even know I get this, huh? You’re going through my stuff now, O?”

“Yes, because apparently you’re not capable of making rational decisions like burning this shit without reading! You’re probably already writing her a reply, aren’t you?”

“It’s not your damn business, Octavia!”

They circle each other like wild dogs thrown into the pit, ready to fight with their fangs and claws. Octavia’s still holding Clarke’s letters and she throws them into his face, bares her teeth and fucking hisses.

“You know it’s all her fault. Everything that went wrong, is because of her. She killed all those people- TonDC, Month Weather, it was all her. “

Bellamy sees red and he could never, ever hurt his sister, but he feels his hands fisting, muscles clenching, bloodthirst swallowing him whole and he’s just so angry.

“I killed all those people along with her, Octavia.” – he says lowly, breath heavy and head low, facing her like a charging bull. “If Clarke’s a murderer, then so am I.”

“Because she made you this way!”- Octavia shouts so loudly, that her voice breaks in half and his fists drop to his sides and he just looks at her. He feels his lungs collapsing, his heart-stopping, entire freaking world freezing for a moment.

His sister is shivering like a leaf on a wind, hands outstretched towards him and shining eyes.

“She sent you away.-“ she whispers, stuttering like a little child and then she turns around so he won’t see her crying. “She sent you away and you went for her and I could- I thought I- I could lose you.”

Her shoulders are shaking and she wraps her arms around herself, sobbing and Bellamy’s standing still, hearing white noise in his ears and suddenly coming back to the times, when Octavia had bangs and curious eyes and clean hands and he was her only lifeline, the only thing connecting her with the whole wide world bigger than two chairs, two bunk beds and endless darkness under the floor.

“Octavia..”- he wants it to sounds like an apology, but instead it comes out like a plea.

Understand. Please. I can only forgive myself, if Clarke’s forgiven too.

He hesitantly takes two steps and raises one hand to touch her back, to comfort her, but something stops him halfway. His hand’s frozen in its track, frozen in the air, hanging between him and Octavia like a blown-up bridge between two worlds which will never be connected anymore.

She hiccups, wipes the tears with the palm of her hand and turns around. Her braids are coming undone and the dark make-up around her red eyes is smudged, but she stands straight, with chin up high and says, clearly and calmly:

“She doesn’t deserve you.”

O marches out of the hut and he doesn’t stop her.

Instead, he kneels down to pick up the letters and puts them in order.

And then he takes the pen he asked Lincoln to bring him from the last trade and presses the tip of it to the clean sheet of paper.

Dear Clarke,

Winter was fucking awful and spring’s not much better, but at least it’s warmer now.

VI.

Clarke decides she likes the ocean most.

It’s big and wide and endless; silver-gray waves with white manes, cool sand under her bare feet, wild wind and the smell of salt, smoked fish and crown made of finger-cutting sharp seagrass - it’s everything she dreamed it would be, long, long time ago, and so much more and nothing less.

She wasn’t planning to stay, truth to be told. For the first few weeks she was constantly waiting for this sharp tug of ache inside just go, just go, far and far and never come back but it never came and Luna’s people are more gentle and kinder than anyone who she has ever met and they’re the only ones who seem not to be afraid of her. So she stays.

She patches up hunters and delivers children along with the old, nearly blind healer; she kisses scraped knees of kids and learns how to knot fishing nets and breathes in, breathes out, washes her face in icy, salty water.

One time, girl from the village brings her charcoals and she spends hours on playing with them, morbidly fascinated with how different they feel, when her hands are no longer soft and white, but callused and cut and scarred and short on one finger and red, so, so red.

Clarke draws sea and people and a little, chubby boy chewing his fist and before she can even notice, she draws constellations of freckles and messy hair and soft, sad eyes; brown ponytails and sharp elbows and braids; goggles and gentle smiles and she wants to weep, she misses them all so much.

She wonders about her package, she wonders if it ever reached Bellamy, she wonders if it even matters at all.

She –well, she’s healing. But she’s still aching, something is still tearing her apart from the inside and she still can’t seem to let go of so many things, so she can’t go back.

She hasn’t had any hallucinations ever since she’s been around humans again, but her nightmares still have brown eyes and are holding a little football ball in their clawed hands.

VII.

“Bellamy, Bellamy tell us a story!”

Bellamy stares at the fire as kids are chirping loudly in his ears; he keeps his hands on his knees, palms out, fingers outstretched as if he was holding something.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess-”

“Clarke! Clarke!”

“Okay, okay!” – she laughs, with her head thrown back, but her eyes sad when she says-

“Once upon a time, there was a rebel – “

“-turned queen-“

Octavia’s bright eyes, narrowed lips, sharp pain in his chest.

“-turned king.”

Flames dancing on a pile of sea wood, her voice full of nostalgia.

VIII.

By the next spring, Clarke has a baby inside of her.

She doesn’t know whose it is; she doesn’t really want to know, to be honest. There were few, men, women, nothing to grow attached to, just a tension relief, fuck and forget. She needs to get rid of it, but she spends too much time thinking about what she needs and what she wants and about Ark and Octavia Blake and then she can feel it move and everything in her screams mine mine mine.

So she lets it stay.

She lets it grow.

She lets herself grow bigger; soon enough her spine starts to hurt like a bitch and her eyes water when she sees little kids, little birds, little dogs and apparently every single damn little thing in the world. Her feet swell and her breasts ache and she suddenly craves wild mushrooms and tuna and apples.

She goes through twenty- hours- long labor, clutching Lila’s hand all through it and crying for her mom and Bellamy, delirious with pain, sweat and tears and blood and then-

A pair of very brown eyes, strangely calm; a cloud of delicate blonde hair. They look at each other and it’s like the world stops turning and for a moment there are just Clarke and this tiny alien thing covered in her blood, small starfishes of her hands fisted, small feet kicking the air.

Clarke’s daughter has long lashes, pink, wrinkled skin and a nose like a tiny button and Clarke can’t stop looking at her, won’t stop looking at her. She feels some kind of –oblivion. Everything that was messed up before, everything she couldn’t deal with, now perfectly in order and she can’t remember being in such peace ever in her entire life.

IX.

Dear Bellamy,

Her name is Julia.

Bellamy clenches the paper in his hand, head thrown back and just- breathes out.

When Julia’s eight months old, Clarke slowly starts packing.

It’s unintentional, at first; cleaning her hut, throwing some things away or giving them as a gift to those who needed it more than her anyway, packing the rest in sacks, trading with travelers for material for a travelling carrier for an infant– she does all those things before even realizing what she’s doing, until one day Aidan walks on her while she’s asking Rhea where she could get a horse, or maybe even two and how can she pay for them.

“So you’re really leaving, huh?”- he doesn’t sound accusing, but a bit sad and like he has been expecting it for some time now.

And Clarke… Clarke takes a deep breath and nods.

Dear Bellamy,

It’s been three years now. I think it’s time to go home. Would you like to meet my daughter?

The reply comes fast as the wind, two lines written on a piece of paper apparently torn from the bigger one, letter bold and honest.

Dear Clarke,

Can’t wait.

XI.

They leave at dawn, moon and stars still visible on the golden-pink sky, Julia napping in her sling. Luna hugs her tightly and then Lila and Mara and Devon and Rhea and then the whole village kissing her cheeks and touching her hair and saying thank you and Clarke has such a lump in her throat that she can barely breathe, because she’s the one that owes them everything she has now.

Aiden helps her up on the saddle and pats her thigh.

“You’re always welcomed here, you two. And I have a feeling we’ll see each other again.”- he winks, a wide grin spread on her face and she suddenly remembers why she even let this man, those people, get closer to her in the first place. “Also, I want to meet this man of yours and remind him how lucky he is. Being loved by a woman like you, Clarke- tragedy, but what a privilege at the same time.”

And to that, she can only blush.

XII.

She comes back at sunrise; appears like a ghost from between trees on the white horse, baby strapped to her chest, sacks hanging from both sides of her saddle.

He abandons his post near the gate and runs and runs and runs and she jumps off the horse and runs too, but when they’re ten feet apart from each other, they slow down.

It’s been three years -

( but when Bellamy looks at her beaming, all golden hair and blue eyes and pink-cheeked baby glancing at him curiously half-hiding his face in the crook of her neck, he feels like not a day has passed since dropship)

“Hi.”- she says, breathless, taking one tiny step closer.

“Hello.”- he responds, taking another.

She looks him in the eyes, smiling, and she has damn laughter lines on her face. God, he wants nothing else but to spend the rest of his life giving her more. He raises his hand and traces them delicately and she shivers under his touch, leaning into his hand.

“Bell.”- her voice is hoarse with emotions and low, just above a whisper. “ I missed you, Bell.”

Sun is setting, casting reds and goldens on her hair as he wraps his arms around her and her daughter and she presses her face to his shoulder and the forest is so wonderfully, wonderfully green.

And in this one moment, they are everything and nothing and Bellamy knows there are storms in the future and broken hearts and bloody hands; but right now, when he can feel her lips on his skin and her baby’s little hand fisting his shirt, all they are is right and real and exactly, where they are supposed to be.

#bellarke #bellarke fic #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy x clarke #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction

122 notes · View notes

ingayderzim · 4 years

Note

not to be that person who asks a googleable question but wtf is hazbin hotel bc i googled it and the only “critical” thing i could find was a typo-ridden article of someone saying it has good animation and its haters are stupid. i was able to glean what it is/what it’s about but idk about the discourse lmao

Im actually so glad u asked this. Here's the lowdown, this is my definitive answer to hazbin shit from here on out, unless new info comes about of course.

Hazbin hotel is an independent cartoon by vivziepop. Most people (that ive seen) have agreed that the pilot of the show really isnt that great but the reason it has so many fans is bc of the entertaining livestreams, massive amounts of canon content produced (she has had these characters for years), unique art style, and the characters. (Ass ugly but unique.)

Its haters are totally justified bc of some of the "controversial" (read: bad) things vivziepop has done. Here's the conclusion that my friends and classmates (several of whom are Black, one Hispanic woman, and one trans woman...nellie if ur reading this i 💜 u) and i came to after discussing this stuff. I am NOT saying "well my black/trans friend said it's ok so i dont have to think about it!" this is based on a few different conversations that my friends and i have had about this topic so what im saying is that my opinion was formed by talking about this situation with multiple people affected by the controversy.

One controversial thing is a drawing u can easily find on google (called beastiality.jpg i believe?) It's a cropped (chest and up, but hes obv naked) drawing of vivziepops character, drawn by vivziepop, moaning, with a snake around him. The character is 17. Many people have interpreted this as child porn. I dont think this image is pornographic, i think it's a stupid joke (it was even tagged as a joke iirc) and completely inappropriate but since it's 8 years old on top of not being porn, i think it's just an example of a dumb drawing. That being said, i would NEVER argue that someone who is uncomfortable w the drawing (im uncomfortable with it! It's gross just not porn) or considers it porn is wrong. They are entitled to that opinion and i would never expose them to vivziepops work or talk about her stuff around them if they expressed to me that they disliked the image.

Another thing is that she drew a doodle of two racist TERFs. This is the one where my friends of color, my friends who are black, and my friends who are trans women took the lead. I sat back for this part and here's their and my opinion on this after talking about it and verbally going through this whole situation.

She was following these women (who had done blackface and stuff) and drew art of them. The art was a "quick doodle" that she did apologize for and she said she didn't realize the extent of their beliefs. She knew they werent great but hadnt consumed much of their content in depth. I believe her bc while ive never followed anyone as bad, ive certainly followed some pieces of shit and didnt notice for months simply bc im not online all the time and bc of the volume of people i follow, combined with the non chronological algorithms lately.

At the risk of screwing myself, im going to admit that there was about a year or so of my life where i enjoyed The Amazing Atheist. I was even subbed to him. I was a nonbinary lesbian (2 things he cant stand lmaoo) in catholic school and therefore i strictly watched his videos about theological stuff since thats what was frustrating me at the time. I had no clue the type of evil racist, transphobic, homophobic (yes ik hes bi), misogynistic things he thought, said, and did, bc i didnt watch those videos. I literally only watched select theological ones that could be of use to me while edgily debating my teachers (sorry mrs macdougal but u had it coming). I was about 15 at the time and im 19 now. Im sorry to everyone i hurt by ever having supported him. I had one of his quotes written in the inside of my religion notebook in high school. I regretted it and ripped the page out the moment i discovered the truth about him. I cant stress enough how much I HATE HIM. Thats an example of what i think happened here tho.

One of my friends who is a trans woman said (paraphrasing) "i think the worst thing shes done is that terf art but i believe the apology especially bc it was a quick drawing."

That being said, i would NEVER argue with someone who wanted nothing to do w vivziepop bc of this. That's their right. 100%. I would never expose them to her work after that.

The last thing i remember is something about a pedophilic couple in a comic but i heard it was a 17 year old and a 19 year old. Im 19 and if one of my peers did that i wouldnt say pedophile but id say ur a fucking weirdo, BUT, the kids were fake and being written by an adult so i can totally see her thinking that age gap is much less of a big deal than it really is. Like she forgot what it's like at this age. Idk how true any of that part is tho, i heard that info entirely secondhand.

Another thing to do with racism is that there's a joke within the show where one character says to the other

"don't get your taco in a twist"

"Was that supposed to be racist or sexist?"

"Whichever one pisses you off more"

I thought that was gross but one of my friends pointed out that vivziepop is of el salvadorian descent so that's her business. Like if i made a lesbian joke of equal or greater offensiveness than that and someone tried to call me lesbophobic over it id be like "that's literally my territory."

Oh speaking of which that character's name is vaggie and shes a lesbian but it's not pronounced w the same G you'd hear in "vagina." Vivziepop seems to name characters weirdly (like how in helluva boss theres a guy named blitzo and the o is silent) so maybe it's a pussy joke but i have no idea.

The animation was.................better than i could do, i wanna say the faces and gestures were good but god i remember there was a part with a car and my gf had to pause so i could laugh my ass off at it. I wouldn't describe the animation as a highlight but i liked the style in motion i thought it was a fun change. Vivziepops style is not appealing imo but i appreciate it as an art student and as someone whose friends all like she ra and steven universe where every character looks the goddamn motherfucking same, and while its chaotic and i dont care for it, the style actually works way better in motion than you'd think.

A good rule that i def use is to assume hazbin fans are guilty until proven innocent. If someone says they dont care about the discourse surrounding it and like it no matter what, RUN! They would support the show even if the creator was in fact a pedophile, or had done the blackface/was a terf herself! They probably support some horrible ppl and are probably "anti antis." A lot of them are minors tho so i'd say block and move on.

So, do i like it or not? Im an art student and all my friends like it so while i didnt think it was funny, i do fuck with it. At the convention this weekend my friends and i had a convo that led to me drawing an ahego hoodie where the faces were angel dust (a character's) face. It was a joke that i could make a killing by selling that in a booth at a con.

Theres really nothing compelling about the show but my friends like it so i join in on their conversations, and i do have a soft spot for angel dust bc he's like a worse, less amazing and gorgeous version of one of my characters, Candy, the love of my life.

A lot of people say the show was edgy/offensive and maybe im just desensitized but besides the taco thing i didnt pick up on that whatsoever??? The Archer episode "Swiss Miss" is worse than helluva boss and hazbin combined and even archer isn't offensive.

Im probably not aware of all the "discourse" (aka people being reasonably uncomfortable by weird and bad shit this random woman has done, and other ppl saying their opinions are wrong when it's literally just an opinion about a show) so if anything she's done isnt included in here it's not to defend vivziepop, this is genuinely all i know. I wouldnt describe myself as a fan of hers.

#hazbin hotel #anon

14 notes · View notes

honekitteh · 5 years

Text

FIC: Countdown - Chapter 1

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out. Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes. Author's Notes: First installment of an actual chaptered fic in this fandom. Hopefully there will be more in the future. Warnings: Future chapters will raise the rating to M/E.

Crossposted to AO3

How did I get to this point? That is an excellent question. One would expect the so-called Hero of Tython to have a far more heroic introduction. Jump in to save the day. Say something suave or clever. Jyana Kai, the “famous” Jedi Battlemaster who was reported to have killed the Sith Emperor would be able to jump into the fray and defeat anything.

Sure, you would think that.

Instead I was standing underneath a domed barrier with SIS Agent Theron Shan, just waiting. My bruises had bruises; my mental defenses were on high guard. He didn’t look too much better but calling down Archiban Frodrick “Doc” Kimble, the most humble doctor I’ve ever known, from the orbital station was out of the question.

He straightened up after ensuring the shield was properly set and looked to me. “Okay. We should wait until they’re good and close.”

I closed my eyes briefly, allowing my senses to reach out to get a good feel for how much time we had. It wasn’t much. I moved slightly closer to Theron and said softly, “I wasn’t sure when I’d run into you again. Not the greatest circumstances, but still.” I very nearly reached to him but halted myself with a small glance behind me. It wasn’t my fellow Jedi and closest friend Kira Carsen though that I sensed when I could feel we weren’t alone.

He offered a weak but knowing smile. “Maybe next time the lives of an entire world won’t be in danger – but, yeah, feeling’s mutual.”

I felt my heart flip flop a bit at his smile and met his with my own. Soon though, I could feel them. His amber eyes shifted from mine to behind me. Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I took a deep breath, then reopened them to follow his gaze. Kira had already drawn her dual-saber, its green light reflecting against the metallic floor.

Theron pulled out his data pad and started tapping. “Okay, here comes the puppet brigade. Fingers crossed…”

It was a fairly sizeable group, Imperials, Republic troops, and even some Jedi. I silently cursed the Chancellor and added it to the growing list of matters I will add to a report, should I bother to file one. At this particular moment, the choice words I had planning were significantly less Jedi than they had been the beginning of this entire fiasco. The horde moved closer and Theron triggered the device.

That Theron even had to modify it to be non-lethal was not lost on me. As I saw the soldiers all be stunned and fall to the ground, I could not help but wonder what the result would have been had that modification not been made. The Empire, putting a weapon in one of its capital cities with the capability to kill a vast amount of their own citizens? If they had one of these in New Adasta, they could have it on Kass City, or in a number of other cities. But why? Because of riots? Gee, I wonder why anyone would riot against a ruling body that had no regard for their lives.

My eyes glanced over to a Republic soldier that had collapsed. Were we even better? The Republic should be better than this. Theron followed my eyes and let the shield dome collapse. He approached the soldier and knelt. “This one was closet, took the biggest hit.” He reached for his neck, checking his pulse as I walked up beside him. I looked out towards the door and across the landscape of unconscious bodies. “Still alive,” Theron confirmed, relief in his voice, “We did it! Let’s just hope we got all of them.”

“Let’s hope,” I murmured, still scanning the surroundings. Something still felt off. This moment was far from over, I could feel it.

“We should call Lana now, see if she has a plan for what’s next.”

The bodies began to float in the air. “I have a better idea,” a booming male imperial voice spoke through a woman sauntering onto the platform. With a small flick of a hand motion, the bodies crashed back away from her, clearing a path. Her eyes yellow and wild, she smirked as she drew her lightsaber.

“Master Surro.” Theron’s entire stance sunk and he moved to stand between me and the unconscious puppet army and the approaching Jedi Master. “No...” I lightly reached an arm to his shoulder, trying to pull him back and shift him behind me, but he stood his ground.

“Watching you believe you had a chance; it’s amused me.” Master Surro raised her hand sluggishly as if it were pulled by string, the Force lifting a dazed Imperial lieutenant into a sitting position. “Now this whole charade is pathetic.”

I shifted my own position, trying to assess the situation and moved in front of Theron. Not soon enough, as Master Surro summarily executed the dazed man she’d just set up. The range of emotions in the man beside me went from shock, to horror, to anger. It took a great deal of my own willpower and Force meditation to not absorb Theron’s pain and have it fuel me and complement the dread that I felt; the very dread I’ve been feeling rising since the moment I’d received his distress holo.

Master Surro’s lips turned in a cruel sneer. “Now, how do you wish to die? In combat or on your knees?”

Lana Beniko, Sith Lord and Director of Sith Intelligence, raced from within the building, lightsaber drawn and poised to attack.

“Go away, little Sith.” Master Surro easily shoved the approaching Sith Lord with a shove. Theron moved in front of me again and drew his weapon but was immediately lifted in the air. He gave me a wincing glance before he was unceremoniously thrown against the wall and crashed the ground. I looked between Lana and Theron and took the last reserves of my energy to take a deep breath.

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

Glancing back to Master Surro, I furrowed my brow and drew both my shoto. The Emperor controlled puppet smirked. “This has nothing to do with your friends. This is you and I.”

Igniting my sabers, I leaped into the air.

So how did I get to this point? I guess I could start from the beginning…

At some point in my early life, I was brought to Hasshimut to take up training to be a Jedi. I have no recollection of much before this point, no memory of a mother or a father. The Jedi didn’t see a need to enlighten me and eventually I never truly thought to ask. Perhaps that was a mistake looking back.

But I digress. While that may be the beginning of my story, it is not the beginning of this particular story.

Approximately a year or so ago I became more than what was called the Hero of Tython. I was now the Battlemaster, a reward for helping bring together both Empire and Republic to defeat Revan and to attempt to stop Vitiate from regaining power. The latter failed however, and a team had been put together to continue trying to find out where he’d gone.

“I’ll get the shuttle started,” Kira stated and walked towards the shuttles at the edge of the camp.

Not a second later, I felt another hand brush mine, startling me out of my thoughts and I turned around. “Theron?”

Theron Shan smiled a bit awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Jedi Battlemaster, huh?”

I shuffled my feet and looked down. “Yeah, that surprised me too.”

“I suppose we’re both going to be pretty busy.”

“Guess so…” I looked back over the ridge across the lush green jungle moonscape of Yavin IV. I took a deep breath as the wind blew through my hair.

“So Jy… I guess this is...”

I spun quickly and grabbed his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He startled, but then opened his mouth and met my tongue with his own. He wrapped his arms around me, one of his hands lowering to my waist, palm spread out slightly as one of his fingers slightly hooked underneath my belt. A flash of memory of this morning where a very similar kiss led into a shuttle caused my cheeks to heat up slightly. Slowly easing myself out of the thought, on how much I wanted to get lost in his arms again, I lowered my hands to rest on his chest and pulled out of the kiss, both of us breathless. I attempted to play it cool as I said, “Don’t be a stranger, Agent Shan.”

He smiled softly and his eyes seemed to twinkle as he leaned his head against mine. He traced his fingers against my cheek and whispered softly, “I won’t.”

I slowly opened my eyes and wondered when I’d drifted off. The pilot chair wasn’t the most comfortable place to nap, but I supposed I was tired. Pinching the bridge of my nose I leaned back in the seat and sorted through my thoughts. The Defender was quiet as it usually was when I opted to take the night shift. No bickering over space or Doc being a bit confused why he was suddenly thinking of all his old ex-girlfriends. I usually used this time to meditate.

Or accidentally fall asleep and dream about...

It’d been months without a holo. Just a small message about actually having caf with his mother. That’s progress though, so I don’t begrudge him that. It’s not like I’d entirely made a lot of time to reach out either, so I couldn’t pin it all on him. Flying from planet to planet, seeing where I can lend my hand with the war effort or even some of the little things like Master Orgus reminded me, didn’t always lend me a lot of time to go to Carrick Station or Coruscant just to see what a good-looking SIS Agent was up to.

The planet I was in orbit of wasn’t extremely remarkable, though that was from the eyes of someone who had been staring at it for the last five days. It was an unnamed Jovian type gas giant, swirling with green and teal colors of gas. It had two ringed belts, one full of asteroids and the other vibrant and as colorful as the world surrounding it. The two rings intersected in an X shape.

There has been a mine there within the asteroid belt, though it had been long abandoned many years ago. There were some fairly rare minerals that had been mined from within the asteroids and within the gas giant itself. There were numerous reports of a space whale like creature called Purrgils that frequented this system as well. Those creatures were apparently fairly notorious for knocking spacers out of hyperspace so I had to fly carefully in this region. I vaguely recalled images of them, which reminded me of something I used to dream of as a child. The dreams didn’t make them out to be a menace, but no one ever said spacers told accurate tales.

The Council wanted me to send a few probes within the system to assess its strategic worth. An odd task for the Jedi Battlemaster I thought. I’m a Jedi, not a Scientist. I solved problems easier with a lightsaber. But I could sense there was definitely more within this system than just a simple mineral assessment. Though this seemed it would have been better to just send an actual expert in this field. Everything I found I just forwarded to Barsen’thor Sheridan to show to her scientist companion, Tharan Cedrix.

I thought I caught a blip of a lifesign flying into the gas giant when suddenly, a holo comm started breaking through. Staticky at first, I fiddled with the settings.

“--repeat: Repubic call sign Aurek Nen—hey! Finally!”

It felt like time stopped. I was walking through a desolated world: buildings, ground, even the sun all washed out in shades of brown and grey. My own bright white clothing, faded with the terrain. As soon as the vision hit, it was over, and I heard Theron’s voice trying to get my attention.

Snapping out of it, I took a quick breath and quickly responded, “Theron. Are you all right?”

His voice came across frantic. “That would be a negative, Master Jedi! I’m in Imperial space, over Ziost. Tried to slip in, help out my ground team, but I used the wrong set of clearance codes and shields are low!”

I furrowed my brow slightly but tried to keep mostly calm. “Focus on getting yourself to safety, then we’ll talk. “

“No, you really need to hear what I have to say. I was getting reports: demented soldiers; slave and civilian populations under fire. Had suspicions of what it meant, but I wasn’t sure.” My heart sunk even lower as he continued speaking. “I sent a team in dark to investigate, maybe handle it, but it’s all gone out of control now. I think it’s him. The Emperor.”

“I’m supposed to be the first one you contact when it comes to him, not your last resort,” I snapped.

“I should have said something—I know.”

I closed my eyes briefly to try to settle my own racing heartbeat.

He continued, “Sending through the right set of clearance codes along with the coordinates to meet my-- “ There was a loud explosion and he lost balance as his ship rattled. “I’m hit! Going to try to land this thing! Don’t come looking for me, I’ll—”

“Theron? Theron, come in!” I frantically tried to get the signal back. When that didn’t work, I just mashed the buttons on console and the Defender quickly jumped into hyperspace.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #theron shan #female jedi knight/hero of tython #oc: jyana kai #otp: come what may #fic: countdown #ziost #swtor: rise of the emperor #swtor #fanfic #i told yall it was coming soon #here it is #hopefully i can be consistent with publishing #maybe

27 notes · View notes

livesbeneath · 5 years

Text

the end of all things.

pairing: noah x female mc (harley blanco)

summary: it’s three am, and her laugh is in his head. it almost makes him want to live.

word count: 2.8k.

author’s note: i decided to try and revert back to my old epic poem-esque style for this work, and i have to say, i am extremely excited about how it turned out! this piece has been a labor of love for me, and i really hope you all enjoy a brief journey across canon with a little added perspective from noah and mc. i wrote this fic mainly while listening to the end of all things by panic! at the disco, hence the name. i highly recommend giving the song a listen since it’s gorgeous - and really helps set the mood. i apologize for any grammar / sentence structure issues, as i tried to proofread the best i could, and thank anyone who takes the time to read! feedback in any form is deeply appreciated! (and a big thanks to @gayvathewitch for being my first set of eyes <3)

disclaimer: i do not own these characters / some of the dialogue present. creative liberty has been taken to make this story unique, and i do not intend to use it for profit in any way.

whether near or far, i am always yours. any change in time, we are young again. so lay us down. we’re in love.

i. bravery

She asserted herself as the bravest in the group at age seven. She picked up worms after rainstorms, rode her bike without a helmet, and tried a new vegetable every month. She jumped into the public pool without holding her nose and didn’t wear swim goggles.

Despite being a pup, Harley led the pack. She was destined to grow into her claws.

ii. cowardice

He always looked slightly anxious. He was cautious, moody, protective. He often hid under his covers at night when he heard the wind blow through his window. It was broken, and refused to close all the way.

Noah wasn’t a wolfish young boy. He was more the shadow that hung behind the sun.

iii. third

He decides eight o’clock in the morning is too early to be awake. Noah suppresses a yawn, eyelids drooping. His mom says that he’ll be able to walk to school after he turns twelve. Until then, he’s stuck on the bus.

“Where’s Jane?” Harley asks quizzically, her Monsters Inc. lunchbox sat on her lap. The two girls always sat together. Noah usually took the seat across the aisle from them - but today it had been claimed by Grant Warner, and he was a fifth grader.

“She has a fever.” He frowns as he stares at the empty space beside her. “Can I sit?”

“I don’t know-” she grins, pulling on one of her own pigtails. “Can you? Do you know how to sit, Noah?”

“Shut up.” he grumbles as he plops down. She knows he doesn’t mean it, and that only makes her giggle harder. The sound makes him want to shove her lunch onto the floor. That is, until he hears his mother’s voice in the back of his head.

You know, boys only pick on girls if they like them, Noah.

Frowning to himself, he sinks lower into the seat, not bothering to shrug his backpack off his shoulders. Her voice was too loud for such an early morning.

“Are you nervous?” she answers before he can even take a breath. “I’m not nervous. I can’t wait to tell Jane all about it!”

“Third grade is gonna be just like second grade, y’know.”

Her spirit is seemingly indomitable, as she simply cheers in response. Her second grade year was a blast - and his was filled with butterflies. Annoying butterflies.

Butterflies he’d like to squish.

iv. sleepover

Mrs. Marshall had packed her children a travel-sized bag of cheesyfish, their own separate flavored toothpastes, and mismatched pairs of socks. She didn’t stop at the front door of Harley’s house to see her children off. Her migraines were getting worse - and a quiet night free of her kids was just what the doctor ordered.

Noah was shocked when Harley’s father answered the door. He didn’t see her parents much. In fact, he was pretty sure they were supposed to be in Boston on business in a week.

Immediately, the twins were whisked to the backyard where the rest of their friends were waiting. Andy was ripping clumps of grass out of the ground and throwing them at Lucas, which was highly amusing to the other children.

“Harley!” Jane says from beside him, a sly smile on her face. “Tell Noah to stop being such a big baby about Mr. Red.”

Harley’s mouth forms an o-shape, her eyebrows raising. “You don’t want to go play with Mr. Red tonight?”

“I’m not a baby! I just think - what if your parents see we aren’t here?”

“That’s why we have a tent, silly! And blankets and pillows to make props! We know Mr. Red can’t really play with us in the light.”

He bites his lip. “It’s gonna be really dark.”

“We can bring flashlights!” Harley smiles. “Or, we can stay here. I want to go to help protect everyone, but you remember the playtime rule, don’t you?”

A few feet away, Jane breaks a twig in half with a clean snap!

“Everyone plays together!”

v. whispers

Her first mistake was not making it to the gym early. If she had, maybe she could have snagged a seat at the top of the bleachers, somewhere high up, a corner against the wall where no one would bother her.

She’s all too aware of his lazy eyes. Tired as they may be, they burn into her back as she stands there like an idiot, contemplating a daring escape out the closest exit.

“Hey, Harley! Sit your stupid ass down unless you wanna watch from the garbage can!”

To her chagrin, Noah makes no move to assist her as she stands there. She doesn’t expect him to, but it would have been the most efficient way to make Cody shut his mouth.

“Hello? You’re blocking our view, and there’s a spot right there!” Jocelyn blurts, waving a hand towards the only seat left open in the whole place.

She exhales before turning at a snail’s pace to meet Noah’s eyes. He sits there expectantly, and Harley assumes that he already knows his answer to her question before she’s even asked it. Swallowing her pride, she offers him a reluctant smile. “Hey, Noah. Do you mind if I…?”

Can you? Do you know how to sit, Harley?

“Knock yourself out.”

He takes his time scooting to the side. Harley shoots Cody and Jocelyn one last glare before stepping up and squeezing beside Noah, crossing her arms across her chest as she plants her feet firmly on the platform below. Any attempts at small talk will be futile, and yet-

“So… what’s been up with you? We haven’t really talked since…”

His voice is a flatline. He shifts uncomfortably in his spot. “Yeah, I know.”

Harley shakes her head slightly as she glances around, her eyes not exactly focusing in on anything, not even Lucas as he approaches center floor to begin the assembly. The gymnasium rumbles around them as the students welcome their class president. Both stay still, letting the vibrations from over a hundred feet stomping madly drown out the rumbles of awkwardness situated in their stomachs.

They fall into a steeled, not-quite conversation. Occasional jabs at Lucas’ discovery of hair gel and Stacy’s cheermates inch them closer and closer to dismissal. After the bell, they’ll hopefully never have to do this again.

“Why do people like her so much?” Harley huffs offhandedly, eyeing Britney in the sea of pom poms before them. “They’ve got to know how horrible she is.”

“And?” Noah begins. “She’s hot and she can do flips. We can’t compete with that.”

She turns to look at him, a curious half-smile on her face as he shrugs. It’s somewhat comforting to know that they remain similar despite the ten years of radio silence between them.

It isn’t the same with everyone else, though. Some of them are still stuck in the gutter of the social pyramid, some of them seemingly free from it, parading around the gym like they own it.

“Huh. Andy actually made the team this year.”

Harley can’t help but grin at that. “Good for him! I can’t wait to see him play.”

Noah yawns as the basketball team captain takes the podium, his speech a carbon copy of every other student-written rallying cry, right down to the obnoxious Westchester Wolves howl.

However, one element manages to catch them both off guard: the flickering of the gymnasium lights.

Then, a plea from Lucas to stay seated. A microphone full of feedback. A broken stereo system.

With a loud BANG!, the doors of the gym fly open, and the lights flicker back on.

She feels a hand clamp around her arm. A shiver up her spine.

“God! What are you-”

He speaks with a frightening concern. “Shut up! Do you hear that!?”

“Hear what?”

“Ssssshhhh!”

The music sputters and dies as the lights shut off completely. A voice, completely alien and horribly familiar.

A whisper.

“Everyone… plays… together.”

vi. resurgence

They all started spending time together, but only out of obligation. It wasn’t as if cops could just arrest Redfield.

She understands Noah’s anger, but it doesn’t make the sight of his face twisted in rage any easier to see. It’s a constant reminder that maybe they could have spared themselves years of loneliness if one of them had been tough enough to speak up.

Harley wasn’t going to stand back anymore. Not after the assembly. Not after finding Dan. Not after what he had told her in the hardware store.

“Mom blames me, y’know. For Jane… and for dad leaving right after.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is. She’s said it to my face. Regularly, actually.”

It’s moments like that, like him looking so paralyzed when a monster charges at him, which spark up remembrance in her. They not only make her realize how much she’s missed him, but how much she’s always wanted to be there for him. To protect him. Something about him ignites the hero in her.

She finds where he sits at lunch and plops down.

He wonders why she didn’t ask before doing so.

vii. effortless

The cobblestone around Britney’s pool proved to be terribly unkind to any kind of shoe that required balance to walk in. Decked out in gold and heels, an ensemble that was a giant leap from her normal bomber jacket, it almost made Harley wish that she hadn’t agreed to take a walk with him.

Almost.

Jocelyn’s laugh and the rest of the party fades out behind them as they reach the edge of the backyard, the gentle lapping of the pool water calming Harley’s nerves.

She feels the urge to reach down her throat and rip her heart from her chest in an attempt to silence it. From the moment she had seen him in his natural habitat, gracelessly tossing potato chips into the pool, her heartbeat had been on the fritz.

Nevertheless, she appears just as collected as ever, even as the two of them share a grin. She takes note of how much lighter he looks when he does so.

“So I gotta ask-” she begins. “Why’d you decide to come tonight.”

He looks her over subtly. His hands begin to sweat. “It’s dumb.”

“I bet it’s not! What if I tell you something dumb?”

“Depends on what you got.”

She runs through multiple replies in her mind. There’s “I think you look nice with your hair long”, along with “I felt my stomach lurch when you laughed earlier”. There’s also-

“I got points off my language arts homework because I misspelled orange.”

His lips turn upward, and he doesn’t work to suppress a chuckle. “You mean the most phonetically sound word in the English language?”

“See? Now that was dumb.” she watches him shake his head, taking a breath.

“I came because…”

Because you would be here. Because she made things a bit easier to bear. “Well, being with your friends in a place you hate is still better than being alone, right?”

He drifts from her in that moment, the grill a few feet away giving him something more stable to think about. She approaches - relentless as always - a smile on her face. He wishes he could be so easygoing.

She speaks so easily, and he doesn’t think she realizes the impact of the stuff she says. Noah doesn’t know what it is about her that makes her so much easier to talk to. So easy to snap at, and then confide in seconds later. He knows she deserves better than his polar opposites. She would have a much better time playing spin the bottle with Stacy’s brother.

And yet, she doesn’t go. Not when he digs up skeletons from his past, not when he mentions his wishes for the future. He barely realizes he’s talking about Baby Jane’s, something that he’s never mentioned away from pen and paper, until the words leave his mouth. Until she happily asks “Will you let me be a waitress at Baby Jane’s someday?”

Something about it is so effortless. Something about them is so…

“Now, what do you say we go back to the party? See if Britney has any hot dogs?”

He shakes his head as music begins to blare from the house. “You go ahead. I like how quiet it is over here.”

Harley’s face practically glows as she recognizes the song playing, and she turns back to him, enthusiastically sticking her arm out. “Are you sure? Come on, come dance with me!”

“Hey, I bet Andy would dance with you.” he can’t help but smile, pointedly trying to ignore the adorable way she bobs along to the bass.

Instead of replying, Harley decides to kick off her heels, one of them landing in the pool as she goes. She shakes out her hair, brunette tresses falling over her shoulders and down her back, moving from side to side as she begins to groove along with the sound.

Laughing, she extends both her arms, making grabby hands at him and calling out. “But it’s fun! And it’s Franz Ferdinand! You know Take Me Out, right?”

He doesn’t bother to recall if he knows the song or not, and smiles as he playfully waves her away, standing only to go and fish her shoe out of the water.

Sticking out her tongue, hips swaying, she turns and dances off to where Andy is sitting.

He watches her go, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he marvels at just how plucky she is.

Some things never change.

viii. reverse

He made a bold move of his own a few days later, bell ringing overhead as he showed up unannounced, joining her for all things coffee and Redfield related. She had initially been alone, probably for a reason, as it jostled him to see her so worked up.

After a particularly tense session of rehashing the past, the sound of her pencil furiously scribbling away in her notebook dedicated to Mr. Red is the only thing between them. He shuffles his feet as he sees her violently wipe tears of frustration from her eyes. A sickness pools into his chest as he realizes how much of this she’s taking on by herself - and in that, he sees his own reflection.

“I don’t know what to do.” she huffs, dropping her pencil to tug on her hair.

Unwilling to hash out the future in its entirety, his hand grazes hers before pulling away. Instead of something to hold, he gives her a small smile.

“If all else fails, you can always wait tables. Baby Jane’s is gonna need staff members.”

It’s a nice thought.

ix. sidestep

The night was young as the teens celebrated their victory. After spending what seemed like years fearing every shadow that fell beside them, the strobe lights at homecoming seemed almost too good to be true.

Noah drifts off to the side as a slow song begins, feeling his stomach begin to churn as the clock keeps ticking. No matter how he tries, he can’t will the hands to move any faster.

Harley also feels sick, but mainly because she’s just polished off her fourth cup of punch in fifteen minutes. That, and the fact that they’re the only two who haven’t found someone to dance with.

Neither of them work up the courage to make a move.

Maybe he could have if he didn’t know what was coming.

x. betrayal

What was coming could only be better than what had gone.

He tells himself this as he watches her, dress ruined, drenched in Cora Pritchard’s blood and riddled with tears, leave the dogs to deal with the horde closing in on the ruins. This is what they - what he - had to do.

This only makes him sicker as he leads her inside. No amount of hope will ever dull the knife in his pocket. The way he feels about her only makes it sharper, only makes it more painful as she grapples with it against her throat. He thinks it remarkable how valiantly she fights. She thinks it horrific how this is when he finally decides to grow some balls.

Her survival instincts briefly overtake her heart. “Noah, you traitor! Let go of me! If Redfield has hurt any of our friends, I swear-”

The venom in her voice shatters him inside, but he keeps his focus on his sister, on how sweet it will be to finally free her.

He thinks of how when he dies, he won’t ever feel the pain of hurting those he loves again.

xi. together

But as always, she has a plan of her own.

When there is no one left but the two of them, both staring confoundedly at the puff of smoke that was once Redfield, her mind begins to race.

Harley watches his feet drag across the floor as he approaches her, his appearance that of a boy dissolved by his own actions. Noah wants nothing more than to dissipate. He wants nothing more than to make things right. To be brave for once.

Unfortunately, bravery is all she has left.

xi. bravery

So, she sacrifices herself.

xii. cowardice

And as for him?

He runs.

in these coming years, many things will change. but the way i feel will remain the same. so lay us down. we’re in love.

#it lives in the woods #ilitw #noah marshall #noah x mc #noah ilitw #mc x noah #playchoices #choices ilitw #fics

119 notes · View notes

cajunquandary · 7 years

Text

House of the Rising Sun

Characters: Sam, Dean, Hunter!Reader

Warnings: Canon level violence, poltergeist activity, angst

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Sam and Dean run into another hunter while working a case at a haunted house in New Orleans when they get trapped. With time working against them, they are surprised to discover the deep history of the house and the nature of its inhabitants and are forced to make a hard call.

A/N: House of the Rising Sun is an old folksong and many people have done covers of it, but The Animals did my favorite version. It’s one of my top three favorite songs. While listening to it a few days ago, the ideas for this fic came flooding to me. I hope you enjoy it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2oKRKZnEoA

The doors of the Impala squeaked open as Sam and Dean slowly emerged, not once taking their eyes off of the two-story Victorian beauty that stood before them. While her many layers of paint were chipped and falling from her like snow every time the wind blew, her boards moaning in protest, some spindles and a few bricks missing here and there, she still stood tall and magnificent. Sam wondered what she’d looked like in full glory back in her day, knowing that the smudgy black and white photo clippings from news articles hadn’t done her justice. Dean shivered involuntarily when his eyes followed her dips and curves to the big golden sun amulet suspended on the second story balcony, and the weathered sign dangling from it that said “Rising Sun Casino.”

As massive as the home was, it was a blip compared to the giant casinos the boys had passed on their drive down. The neighborhood around her was just as empty, most just lots with mangled foundations where businesses and houses once stood. Chain link fences and trash littered the area, and grass grew in patches, thick and full, but not near the house. No—the entire acre was nothing but red clay and black dirt. The house itself bleached from its former vibrant blue, purple, and yellow to a white-washed gray, except for the golden amulet. Somehow, it seemed to glow, possibly even vibrate if you stared hard enough.

“Dean… maybe we should get back up.”

“What, Sammy, afraid of a few ghosts?”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, who had broken his eerie concentration and began to gather the necessary tools. “I’m just not so sure we should be doing this alone. We don’t know how many ghosts are in there, or how old and angry they are. You know like a hundred people or more have died here?”

“Yeah, yeah. You gave me the speech already. Prostitutes, gamblers, drunks, a few unlucky city workers, etcetera etcetera.”

“Not just that, but weird things have been happening here since it was made into a casino a century ago. Before that, it was a plantation home.”

“I get it Sam. Hey,” Dean slammed the trunk closed, arms full of extra salt and the usual duffle bag. “The other hunter should be here. She called and asked for help, so we’re her backup. What was her name?”

Sam helped take some of the boxes from Dean’s arms before they all toppled over. “Y/N, I think.”

“Yeah, Y/N should be here already. That’s probably her car.” Dean nodded towards the little diesel Volkswagen, grimacing slightly at the shape it was in. Sure, maybe it ran, but one of the tires was newly flat and the windshield was nearly shattered, not to mention the various dents on the body and missing front bumper. He glanced back towards the Impala lovingly, “I’d never treat you like that, Baby.”

Sam turned on his EMF reader, and they slowly approached the porch, watching all the windows that weren’t boarded up carefully as the last rays of the day shot through the shadows behind them.

“Here we go. Remember, the city is coming in to attempt demolition again. Last time, the entire crew was slaughtered. We have to get this done, and we only have three days.”

Dean eyed his brother cockily. “I’ll do it in one.”

The EMF reader went wild, the air around the boys dropping suddenly. The floorboards of the porch groaned beneath them angrily and the house seemed to move on its own. Just as they were fumbling for the salt guns, everything stopped as quickly as it’d begun. Sam swallowed hard and Dean flinched as you spun around the corner and stood in the doorway, facing them.

“Well don’t stand there all day, get in here, Winchester!” You put your hands on your hips in irritation, oblivious to the previous drop in temperature and quaking. You’d been in the house for a few days already and were in absolutely NO mood for tomfoolery, dried blood on your face and arms from wounds sustained during the stay so far. “And you can put that EMF reader away, the place is crawling with Death-Echoes and possibly a poltergeist.”

Sam and Dean, wide-eyed and worried, stepped over the threshold. Dean asked if you were okay, but you shrugged him away with a cold “I’m fine.” Sam tried to shake the feeling of hopelessness and dread that washed over him. There was no doubt that this place was evil—the boys knew real evil, and some of it was here with them in this house.

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the rising sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one

Day One

The three sat huddled around the small flame in the grand fireplace at the center of the house, a salt circle around them. “Man, you couldn’t pack anything better than tuna?” Dean griped at Sam, sniffing the can suspiciously and pouting.

“You’re lucky I packed anything at all.”

“Well, we’ve been here for eight hours already, the sun’s gonna be up soon, and I haven’t seen a single ghost! EMF is still going crazy though. I’m hungry and bored, man.”

Dean offered you the can of tuna, but you held up your hand and graciously passed. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Sam scooped the last of his can into his mouth, chewing twice and swallowing. “So what got you started hunting, Y/N? You’re pretty young.”

My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin man

Down in New Orleans

“I’m twenty two, thanks, and I’ve got the soul of an old man. My mom was a teacher, and my dad was in the air force, both for thirty years. A vamp got them downtown one day after an anniversary trip to a casino. My sister and I got out, but my sister went into the system and I lost her, she wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Somehow their deaths were my fault. She needed someone to blame, and I was convenient. I chased the truth though, and here I am. She’s off at some fancy college now, and that’s where she should stay. She deserves a life.”

Dean looked to Sam, the guilt there he felt for dragging Sam back into the life evident even though he knew it would’ve happened anyway. “So where were the death echoes? What were they?”

“A few were service ladies here and there, murdered by their bosses and clients. A few others were gamblers gutted over debts, servants beaten to death, a few hung themselves in their rooms, you know, a normal spattering considering the history of this place.”

“And you said there might be a poltergeist?”

“Possibly, I think there is one seriously pissed off Egyptian ghost trapping everyone here. There are so many… sometimes it’s quiet, but others… it’s like hundreds of them all at once.” You remembered back to the first time you’d seen them. It had come all at once—one, two, four, twenty, two hundred, maybe more. This truly was one of the most haunted places you’d ever seen in your hunting career. Caught off guard by the sheer immensity of the moment, you’d been thrown backwards by an invisible force, hitting your head hard enough to pass out after a moment more of watching the echoes, vision blurring to black. When you’d come to, you’d called for back-up, the number Garth had left you for “just in case” some years ago. Your head pounded the whole time, and it was a wonder your message had been audible at all through the slurs of pain. Not but an hour later, you’d attempted to get to your feet when the echoes began again, this time with your iron rounds loaded and ready to take out the invisible ghost that’d thrown you. You aimed the direction it had come from before, shooting when the air began to whip around you. The force didn’t even flinch, and you looked around in horror as you realized that the force filled the entire house, radiating from every wall, door, window, floor, and ceiling. You went flying again, dragged all the way to the basement and tossed against the damp stone wall. It was there that you laid still and silent, hiding until you heard the Impala roll up.

Sam brought you back to the present. “Egyptian? Does it have something to do with the amulet outside? It looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where it’s from.”

You sighed, pulling your legs in closer, careful not to disturb the salt line. “It’s the amulet of Akhenaten, or originally, Amenhotep IV. He was an Egyptian pharaoh who ruled for seventeen years, known for abandoning many traditional views like polytheism and introduced worship around Aten, a solar deity who was supposed to bring great bounty.”

Dean scooched closer to the fire, the light reflecting beautifully off of his face and casting curious shadows across his eyes. “I take it not many people liked that.”

“That’s an understatement. They tore down his monuments, destroyed everything he’d done and built. All of his symbols and legacies. It’s rumored that he sold his soul to have the power of a god. He wanted to strike down his enemies, make them suffer. He lost his mind though, and I think he is still linked to the amulet outside. The problem is, every time anyone has tried to steal, vandalize, move, or adjust it, they die. Instantly. It’s made of pure gold, so many have tried.”

Dean nodded along, muttering a sarcastic “Great.”

Sam actually looked somewhat excited. “That’s cool! We’ve never come across an Egyptian pharaoh. How do we get to the amulet, though? If Akhenaten has become a poltergeist, does it matter? Is he keeping the ghosts here? Because there’s no mentions of hauntings until that amulet got here.”

“I think he is. I mean, they destroyed everything he worked for, he just wants attention. I haven’t seen him, but—“

Dean interrupted, “Wait, wait, wait. Poltergeists are attached to places where big evil has manifested, right? Like old demons? So what? Were the ‘ladies’ here summoning demons?”

“It’s possible, Dean. The people who came here were desperate, they came hoping for better lives but only found corruption, pain, and death—sin and misery. There’s no telling what could’ve gone down under this roof.”

As if on que, the fire flickered nearly out, causing Dean to jump back in concern. Sam whipped his head around, searching for the source. The three of you slowly got to your feet as the salt circle around you dissipated, seeming to melt into the floorboards. You gulped hard, the Winchesters already shouldering their shotguns. Just as it’d happened before, the death echoes appeared. One, two, four, twenty, two hundred. “Get ready!” You shouted over the growing din. You sunk back behind the large men, already in fear of what was to come. The wind in the room picked up, whipping the jacket around you, the boys shooting into the fray wildly, reloading faster than you knew anyone could. You were flying through the air again, the invisible force tearing at you violently and you screamed, struggling as it whipped you from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and down the hall and to the basement.

When you woke, the sun was shining through the cracks in the boards on the windows. Carefully, you picked your way up the stairs back to the first level of the house, then up to the second, where Sam and Dean were trying desperately to break open the windows, doors, walls, anything to get outside.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice was small, quivering.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exploded, sending the iron crowbar flying across the room until it lodged into the wall only inches from your head.

“Dean! Watch it! You nearly killed me!”

“We’re trapped. There’s no way out. How the hell are we supposed to kill this thing?”

“Well, if we could get one of the death echoes to realize that it’s dead, release it from its cycle, but convince it to destroy itself and attack the poltergeist, maybe. But even then, it might take several echoes to be strong enough to do it.” Sam looked exasperated, leaning against the wall and staring up at the ceiling that seemed all too close now.

“That’s not a bad idea, Sam. Tonight, let’s stir them up and see what we can do,” You offered, but Sam never looked up. Dean walked towards you and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” as he pulled the iron from the wall.

You smiled at him, unable to remain angry. You were far too tired for that. Soon, the boys were leaning together in a corner of the room, weapons across their laps at the ready, powering down for a nap before the sun set. Dean gasped and tensed, looking just over your shoulder, and you jumped to follow his gaze.

“What?!” You startled.

“I thought I saw something.” Dean shrugged it off.

Sam traded a sad look with his brother, and offered to stay up. Dean obliged, knowing that the best way to protect Sammy was when he’d had at least a few minutes of shut eye. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake here.

“Sam, I’ll stay up and keep watch. You guys get some rest, I think I got enough earlier. Get some sleep.” You settled down next to Sam, who began to shiver lightly, pulling his coat tighter around him. It wasn’t long before he was asleep as well, the brothers wrapped up in each other’s warmth.

Day Two

For nearly four hours, the house was silent, except for the occasional creaks and whispers of the old boards. The sun had set, and from what you could see outside, there wasn’t so much as a star in the sky. You could see nothing beyond your fingertips as you held them out. You struck a match and lit the old oil lamp close to you, not wanting to disturb the boys by reaching for their flashlights. What had happened to all your own gear? You couldn’t remember. No surprise really, after the beating you’d been through in the last few days.

Dean stirred with a gentle, tired moan with the illumination, and opened his eyes slowly at first, then wide when he looked at you. “Y/N…”

“What’s wrong, Dean? Are you okay?”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenching and eyes red-rimmed.

“Hey, I promise we’ll get out of here soon. Let’s try to talk to the echoes from here tonight, okay?” You tried to sound more reassuring than you’d felt, suddenly upset with yourself for bringing them into this and not leaving when you had the chance.

“I-I’m okay,” He whispered, amazement in his eyes. He gently shifted Sam from his shoulder to the wall and moved closer to you, his eyes not leaving you once. “How… How are you?”

“Alright, I guess. I got thrown pretty hard again. Honestly I’m surprised that my head doesn’t hurt as bad as it did the first time.”

“Why?”

“Why, what, Dean?”

“Why did you start hunting? I mean, I know why, but why did you keep going after you killed the vamp? You were so young…”

Now the only thing a gambler needs

Is a suitcase and a trunk

And the only time he’s satisfied

Is when he’s on a drunk

“Hey, I know I’m young but that doesn’t mean I’ll be doing this forever. I just wanted to help out around town. I had friends that needed help, then they had friends who did, too. I guess I just kinda got sucked into it. I’ve got plans though. I’d like to travel a little, I never have gotten out much. I don’t need any big life, just a little one. Me and the open road, fighting the bad guys. Yeah, I like that. Like you.” You gazed into the distance, eyes full of hope and longing. When you finally turned back to face him, Dean had a tear streak down his face.

“Trust me, that life ain’t nothin special.”

“Maybe not, but it’s better than what I’ve got here. I’ve always loved the open road, it’s the only time I’ve ever felt… satisfied, you know? I’ll fight anything any day, but I like to run, leave everything in the rearview. Just, bust into town, save the day, and out again.”

Dean just nodded grimly. From Garth’s description, the Winchesters seemed larger than life, maybe a little brooding, but mostly powerful, like they could take on anything and win without hardly breaking a sweat. To see the boys looking so small, so human, compared to the legends they were made to be put a dull ache in your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t be hopeful of an escape.

“Sam. Sammy!” Dean shouted as the temperature dropped lower, enough now that he could see his breath in the air. It was mid-summer, so none of you had dressed for the frigid atmosphere of the house at all times of day. Really, it only ever seemed to get colder. Still, the drops were a reliable warning. Dean crawled quickly to his brother, shaking him awake. Sam gripped his gun and pulled it to the ready out of reflex, catching your gaze and holding it, a loud gasp leaving his lips as he looked around, clearing the rest of the room. “Sam, no…”

The brothers traded a look you couldn’t decipher and Dean tapped his temple and shook his head slowly, helping Sam to his feet. The room was still. Too still. You could hear the brother’s heartbeats, racing, as yours must be.

The echoes began, but this time, you and the Winchesters were able to release a few before the invisible force of Akhenaten found you. The boys were thrown first, Dean recovering more quickly than Sam, screaming above the noise, and you were flying through the air again, the boys chasing after you. Before you knew it, you were back in the main room, ashes from last night’s fire scattered and suspended like snow in the air. You fought back, but once again, the poltergeist got the better of you and threw you down the stairs to the basement.

It wasn’t long before you’d come back around, choking in the mustiness of the moldy room. Worried about the other hunters, you bolted up the stairs, searching for them in the usual places, but finding them locked in a bathroom on the first floor. You opened the heavy door and tried to step over the threshold, but something was keeping you at bay. Before you could think of why, Dean stepped forward, Sam right behind him.

Sam’s mouth was pressed in a tight line. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Would y’all quit asking me that? I’m more worried about you two. Garth gave me the impression that you knew what you were doing and could handle a tricky situation like this.”

“Trust me sweetheart, there’s not much that could’ve prepared us for this.” Dean pushed past you, ever careful not to touch you, as you’d made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be touched in the first five minutes of meeting them. Now though, you almost craved the touch. When was the last time you’d been warm? When was the last time you’d had some human contact? Surely it’d been weeks. Maybe you could steal a lean at some point. Something—anything—to ground you and remind you of the warm world waiting for you outside those doors. Somewhere beyond this House of the Rising Sun was the sun rising and spreading its heat, and oh, how you longed for it, more than food, water, or anything you’d ever craved, you craved that.

You sighed, lost in thought, the boys already back in the main room, voices raising in argument. Curious, you resigned and followed. Sam stopped mid-sentence, unable to continue in your presence.

Oh Mother, tell your children

Not to do what I have done

Spend your lives in sin and misery

In the house of the Rising Sun

Dean turned towards you, nothing but hurt and anger in his eyes. “You want to fight monsters?”

“I do fight monsters, Dean.” What was he getting at?

“You sure? Okay. Then you sure as hell better be willing to become one yourself, ‘cause you know what? At the end of the day, somebody gets eaten. Somebody dies. Me and Sam? We’ve both been monsters. We’ve both died. Several times. And you know, I’m not totally sure that I ever stopped being a monster. That’s what this life does to you. To everyone. There’s no escaping it, not really.”

He was almost nose to nose with you now, and you could smell the whiskey on his breath. He must have more than holy water in those canteens.

“Dean, I know! Y—“

“No, you don’t, Y/N… not really.” Sam’s quiet interjection drew your and Dean’s attention, and the tension dissipated into something more morose, thickening the air.

“What don’t I know, Sam?” You whispered, suddenly afraid of the answer.

“You’re a death echo, too. You’re a ghost.”

The air seemed too stale now, stifling. The room was too small and too big, too hot and too cold, too bright and too dark. “What do you mean? I don’t understand?”

Dean took a step toward you, but you jerked away from his touch. “Y/N… We found your body in the basement after the first day. You’ve been dead for a few days, your body was already cold and stiff by the time we arrived. You’re the reason the EMF is always going haywire.”

“No… no. You’re lying.” You shook your head, backing away slowly.

Dean continued softly, “Then, you disappeared after the first echo event we saw. You reappeared right before the second, but I could tell you didn’t know you were dead. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… We should have been here sooner. I should’ve driven faster. I didn’t know…”

Your voice sounded foreign and distant, “So all this time? When you threw the crowbar? You apologized for almost hitting me.”

Dean looked up then, knowing that you must have thought you were part of the conversation. “We couldn’t see you. I apologized because you died before I could save you.”

It was then you realized that in all the times you were thrown into the basement, never once had you looked down, never seen your pale, broken body crumpled and tossed to the side.

Day Three

“Okay. We’re going to destroy this thing. Let’s start in the basement.” You’d had a little while to try to come to terms with your predicament.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should stay up here while we dig around.” Sam shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

“I can handle it. Besides, I’m probably the only one here who is fluent in old Egyptian hieroglyphs AND Cajun voodoo. You need me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I used to do a lot of things,” You snapped.

“Okay, just don’t… ghost out on us.” Dean shouldered the bag of weapons and opened the door leading to the basement, flashlight at the ready to reach the edges where sunlight couldn’t. The brothers had tea tree oil dipped bandanas wrapped around their faces in preparation of the rancid smell of the lowest level of the house. If there was ever one true smell of death, this was it, the masks hardly able to make it bearable.

You tried to avoid looking at your remains, knowing that if you lingered too long, you would lose too much humanity and would be unable to complete your mission. And as your last, this was arguably the most important.

You nearly walked through Sam, making him shiver and jump slightly, but the boys’ eyes never left the wall. You followed their gaze to find old sigils, broken demon traps, but most of all, GET OUT written in what appeared to be your own blood. Even as disturbing as the image was, you couldn’t help but to scoff at the unoriginality of the threat. The brothers slowly turned to look at you, brows furrowed and Dean’s mouth slightly open, as he breathed “Really?” in response to your nonchalant reaction. You shrugged.

“What? I’m already dead. What do I have to fear?” You crossed your arms. You didn’t remember being this grumpy in life, but hey—you were freakin dead so who gives a damn? You wouldn’t be around long enough to become a vengeful spirit anyway, you all knew what had to be done. You had every right to be pissy and sarcastic.

While the house was largely void of any furniture or proof that people had ever actually lived or worked here, there were a few books still scattered about the basement, along with spell-casting ingredients, from feathers, bones, bowls, knives, and other nefarious items.

“Witches man,” Dean grumbled under his breath, beginning a rant that only he could hear.

Sam sighed and started flipping through one of the leather bound spell books. “Hey, get this, so they summoned demons here all the time to make deals, and even tried to put a leash on Akhenaten, often making sacrifices in his name.”

“Well that backfired.” Dean joined his brother’s side, eyes narrowed as he tried to see what Sam did. “And let me guess, when the sacrifices stopped, the angry dead king got pissed and started killing and trapping the souls here.”

You paced around the room, trying to remember the hieroglyphs of protection and purification. It only took a moment, and you picked up a small bowl and searched through the ingredients, finding sage, salt, griffin feather, and finally holy oil from Dean’s duffle.

You’d caught their attention and they watched you closely. You stood before them, not wanting to ask for the final ingredient. Sam nodded first, blinking hard and reaching for his knife, positioning it over his forearm. Dean grasped his hand, stopping Sam before he made the cut.

“I’ll do it.” Dean took his own knife and opened a vein into the bowl before Sam could protest.

“Thanks, Dean. I’d use my own, but… You know.” When there was enough of the foul mixture, you stood to begin destroying the current sigils and replacing them with new ones—some that would hopefully weaken the poltergeist enough for you to destroy it. You tried not to think about what might happen after the fight. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it transforms from one form to another. You held onto this knowledge, hoping that there wasn’t just nothingness or pain on the other-other side.

The sun was beginning to set again.

The house was covered in sigils and protection symbols now, and lined with salt to keep anything from escaping. You stared at the Winchesters, drinking in their apparent strength and beauty. You wanted to memorize them, as they would be the last warm thing you’d ever know. You were quiet, locked within yourself, chest full of icy cement. Your eyes stung, but remained perfectly dry. The house was silent, air stale with the weight of your coming sacrifice in the room. No one wanted to talk about it. Dean had already made it clear that he would do anything else if he could, but understandably, protecting Sam was his priority, as well it should be. When Dean felt your eyes on him, he lifted to meet your gaze, eyes sunken and red rimmed from lack of sustenance and sleep. You knew the men were running on empty. You prayed that you’d be strong enough to beat this thing.

The moment the death echoes started, Sam jumped to his feet and slapped his bloody palm to the nearest sigil, dissipating the ghosts temporarily, along with you. You faded from their sight, but remained in the room, suddenly face to face with the pharaoh. You swallowed hard, taking one last glance at the Winchesters, who were looking all around, searching for the source of the wind that whipped about them. With a flick of his hand, the old king sent the men flying backwards. A deeper rage than you’d ever felt before ignited within you, and you surged towards the evil entity.

Well, I’ve got one foot on the platform

The other foot on the train

I’m going back to New Orleans

To wear that ball and chain

The Winchesters looked on in a heap on the floor together, arms over their faces as your bright white light spun twisted and neutralized the black wiry smoke of the poltergeist. The house quaked, dust and debris beginning to fall from the ceiling, pieces of wall collapsing. In one last violent shriek and flash of blinding light, everything was over. Even though it was the middle of the night, light from outside the house finally filtered through, illuminating the damage. The brothers helped each other to their unsteady feet, blinking and adjusting. They could hear the wind and crickets outside now. Dean ran to the front door and found that it had swung open. At last, they were free. Dean smiled then turned to look back at Sam.

Sam stood in awe, watching little orbs slowly find their way through the roof and on towards heaven, Dean joining in his wonder. You were gone, but your sacrifice freed hundreds. Dean wiped at the tear forming in his eye and patted his brother on the back. “Come on, Sammy, our work’s not done.”

Sam nodded, following Dean to the basement to collect your remains. Just as the sun crested on the horizon, Dean lit your pyre. The boys stood there just long enough to make sure you had a proper hunter’s funeral, then moved to leave. “Wait Dean.”

Sam pointed to the sun amulet. He ran back into the house and came out to the balcony, easily unhooking it from old weathered hooks that nearly crumbled in his hands. He planned on adding this to the Men of Letters inventory of possibly cursed objects and lost artifacts. The Impala growled to life below him, and he sprinted back to the car, knowing Dean would make him walk for a few miles if he didn’t hurry.

Sam jumped in Baby just as Dean put her in reverse. “Man, I never wanna come back here again. Let’s go get some grub and a bed. What say you, Sammy?”

Sam looked at the golden tablet in his hands. “Yeah, I’m pooped.”

Dean leaned over and turned up the radio, so ready to have some tunes after the ordeal. It was a familiar tune, and Dean began to back out of the driveway, slamming the brakes when he recognized it.

“Well there is a house in New Orleans

They call the rising sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one”

Dean and Sam both reached for the radio, racing to switch it off. They looked at each other and swallowed hard, then turned to catch the last glimpse of the dreadful house.

The House of the Rising Sun.

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction

#chris writes #dean x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader x sam #no pairing #supernatural fanfiction #working a case

49 notes · View notes

wesonerdy · 7 years

Text

The York rebellion has been given new life with Richard’s marriage to Cathy Gordon. Meanwhile Henry and Lizzie work to secure the throne through an arranged marriage with Spain. Here’s our recap of “English Blood on English Soil”.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

“English Blood on English Soil” begins with the beheading of William Stanley, one of the traitors from the previous episode as well as Henry’s mother’s brother-in-law.

“Before I die, you are not a King and you are not fit to be one.”

He tells Henry that he’ll kill many men after him because there are many man who would line up and die for the true King, Richard.

He loses his head and Henry’s children are there watching. Their oldest turns away while their younger son, Harry (Henry VIII) looks on. “Arthur, you will never wear the crown if you cannot watch a traitor die.”

Henry leaves the viewing stand and Elizabeth looks shaken.

***

In the garden, Henry tells his concerns to Lizzie. If the man who won him the crown can turn against him, anyone can. He asks her if she’s loyal to him and she tells him of course she is.

Henry brings up the moment Elizabeth ruined Harry’s ennobling. He tells her that she couldn’t look at him then, and she can’t look at him now.

That’s when Lizzie confesses that Richard, her little brother, was actuall hidden away and a servant boy was sent to the Tower in his place.

“You have lied to me for years!”

Lizzie tells him the she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but protect him.

“When we first wed, I was full of malice. And my reasons for not telling you changed and I convinced myself I was shielding you.

“From what?

“Fear.”

She reiterates that the boy isn’t Richard, and Henry asks who he is because once he’s married to Cathy Gordon, he’ll come for Henry’s kingdom.

****

The scene shifts from England to Burgundy and Richard’s wedding.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The Duchess of Burgundy is speaking to Duchess Cecily about how a representative from every royal family in Europe is there, and Cecily points out that Spain isn’t there.

“They’re busy with their newfound world and wealth. They’re too busy to concern themselves with our small lives.”

Yeah, or they could be aligned with the Tudors since Catherine of Aragon might be wed to Arthur…

****

In London, and Henry is trying to speak to his mother, who is dressed in mourning clothes.

Henry tells her that he misses Jasper’s advice but it’s been three months…

Lady Margaret says she can’t bear it. Henry tells her he can’t lose her and his uncle.

“She feels Jasper’s death quite keenly.”

A letter arrives for Henry and tells him that the boy is actually the son of a dock worker. He can’t wait to write to King Richard of Scotland and tell him that he married off his cousin to “Sir Nobody from Nowhere.”

Lizzie looks extremely uncomfortable and Henry asks her what is wrong. Elizabeth has written to Lizzie, begging her to visit.

Over in Bermondsey Abbey, Lizzie is being helped to drink some water by Maggie.

Why Maggie? Because she’s a saint and too good for this world.

Elizabeth tells her that she’s good to come see her when her own daughters won’t. Maggie tells her that they were in London to see Teddy anyway. Elizabeth says that she’s seen her son, Richard, and that’s when Richard Poole steps in and says that they saw a pretender, not her son.

Before they leave, Elizabeth tells Maggie to get Lizzie to visit her.

****

Lizzie is with her sons during a lesson (you can hear them learning Spanish) when Maggie arrives. She tells Lizzie they haven’t had a chance to speak since she returned from Burgundy, and Lizzie is unusually cold towards her.

She asks her what they would speak of, traitors or the nightmares her son has now that he’s witnessed a man he cared about be beheaded. Lizzie tells Maggie that she knows she’s been to see Elizabeth again.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

They’ve stopped trying to keep Elizabeth from writing, instead, they let the monks copy the letters for them before they send them off to Burgundy.

Maggie tells Lizzie that she read the latest letter from Burgundy. That everyone in Europe has accepted Richard and they all attended the wedding, except for Spain. Lizzie asks if she’s sure that Spain didn’t attend, and Maggie tells her it was in the letter.

Lizzie leaves Maggie there and doesn’t answer when she asks if she’ll visit her mother now.

****

Lizzie interrupts a counsel meeting and tells Henry they need to arrange for Arthur’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon.

The only person who thinks it’s too hasty is Lord Stanley who says that if Europe really backed the boy the wouldn’t have married him off to some third cousin of the poorest land in Christendom.

Still, Henry likes the idea of aligning with a powerful country like Spain and says that he and Lizzie will go, in person, to negotiate the arrangement.

****

Lady Margaret is still in the chapel and crying when the Cardinal arrives. She confesses that she has sinned, and the Cardinal tries to wave her off as being the most devote lady he knows.

She tries to confess to murder, but the Cardinal keeps cutting her off.

“Losing those we love can test our faith. A pilgrimage will help you find your way.”

He sends her away to go around to all the abbeys, quoting scripture that when she does, everything will be clean to her.

I want to know what this man knows on Lady Margaret because it’s obvious he knows something.

***

Henry’s preparing to leave for Spain and sees Arthur watching from the window.

Richard and Maggie come out and wish him safe journey because they’re returning to Wales. That’s when Henry tells Richard that he’s naming him Arthur’s tutor and guardian in his absence.

“I can think of no one better than a loyal Tudor solider who reminds me of my Uncle.”

I’m right there with Henry because Richard Poole is a good man who deserves everything in life.

Maggie tells him that they’ll take him with them to Wales, and Henry tells them that they’ll be staying in London. When Maggie brings up their son, who is still in Wales, Henry says that he’ll send someone to collect him and have him brought to London.

Maggie doesn’t look happy about this at all. She wanted a life away from London, but she’s being pulled back in more and more.

Richard asks if they’ll be taking care of Harry, too, and Henry tells them that he’s going with his mother on her pilgrimage.

**deepest sigh ever***

“Small mercies anyway, Harry’s a handful.”

Richard tries to look at the silver lining and tells her that she can visit Teddy more while they’re in London and they’ll be home soon.

***

Harry and Lady Margaret are on their pilgrimage and talking about her family. Harry asks if her father was a king and she tells him that he was a sinner. Harry then asks why he couldn’t go with his parents or stay with Arthur, and his grandmother lays it out for him.

“You are the second son. While your brother will be King, you may be Pope and answer only to the Lord, your God.”

Heaven help us all.

****

Henry and Lizzie kiss and flirt as they board a boat to Spain.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Then we go back to Burgundy.

The Duchess is walking Richard to his horse and tells him that since the Scottish king hasn’t given them his full support, he needs to throw on that York charm.

We see Cathy, who is pregnant, look on. The Duchess of Burgundy goes to Cathy and gives her some advice:

“Make him happy but no so happy that he forgets his cause.”

Richard tells his grandmother Cecily goodbye and she takes a long look at him before letting him go.

She tells the Duchess of Burgundy that the more she thinks about it, the more she doubts that Richard is really Richard. That his eyes were different as a boy.

Of course, the Duchess shrugs this off, saying that she’s confusing Richard and Edward.

This is just further putting doubt on the boys claim as Richard.

The Duchess of Burgundy tells her that they’re just worried about losing Richard, but he will destroy Henry Tudor.

Duchess Cecily tells her that her need for vengeance may kill another innocent boy.

***

In Spain, Henry and Lizzie are introduced to their son’s future bride.

It’s obvious that things are very different between England and Spain. Spain is bright and lively, and it’s seen in Henry and Lizzie’s faces when the introduction to Princess Catherine is done through a choreographed dance between the child and members of the court.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The introduction of Queen Isabella and King Fernando is no less of a show.

Henry attempts to broker a deal between the two nations, but Queen Isabella says they’ll speak in Spanish. Henry’s at a loss because he can’t speak it, and they begin to talk about how they can’t even keep their house in order and they want to marry their son to their daughter, the most prized possession in the marriage mart.

Well, Lizzie isn’t having any of that. She starts speaking Spanish, telling the King and Queen that she learned with her sons, so she’ll be able to speak with Princess Catherine. Henry has never looked so proud on this show before, and it filled my heart up.

Queen Isabella tells Lizzie that if she wants a marriage, she needs to get the Tudor house in order and kill the two York boys.

Richard and Teddy.

Lizzie tries to explain that the boy is an imposter, but the Queen tells her that he still has support and that will bring war.

“Why should we give our daughter to a throne that will be snatched from under her?”

“When there is only one heir to the English throne, then we will talk about marriage. Until that day, we don not sign. England is alone.”

The Queen tells Lizzie that she’s supposed to lie to Henry, and tell them that what she said was about the Pope. Henry believes her and says that after she writes the Pope, they’ll be approved for the marriage.

****

Lady Margaret is visiting abbeys and giving out money left and right and Harry watches her.

When he asks, why she gave him gold and what she bought, Lady Margaret tells hims:

“In giving, I find Grace. If you dedicate yourself to God, everything you do is for His will.”

The poor child asks how many more they’ll have to visit and she tells him as many as it takes to hear his voice…and now we know how Harry ended up the way he did.

****

In Bermondsey Abbey, Elizabeth is having a dream about soldiers marching home being lead by Richard.

In London, Richard Poole wakes up Maggie and tells her that the boy has crossed over into England with soldiers. She’s to get Arthur and they’ll take him to the Prince’s apartments in the Tower for protection.

Arthur asks if his father knows what’s happening, and Maggie tells him that he’ll be alerted as soon as his ship docks.

In the Tower, they see Teddy. He’s hunched over and has laid out half eaten apples. He asks them if they’ve sinned, too.

****

Lady Margaret is approached by a monk, who brings news of a Scottish invasion and Cornwall rising up.

She follows him to the abbey and she’s incensed by what’s happening.

In the monestary, she and Harry watch as people carrying pitchforks and other things march by. She thanks the monks for saving her and Harry and they tell her they wouldn’t be let into Heaven if they had let harm come to them.

In return for their kindness, Lady Margaret tells them that she will build a library at the monastery since they don’t have one.

“You are very kind, Your Grace. We are in your debt.”

“When they pass, we will return to London. The Lord does not smile on my pilgrimage.”

**WELP**

***

Henry and Lizzie arrive in London, and he asks Richard how many men the boy has.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

They believe it is four thousand.

The Cardinal is telling Henry that not only does he need to worry about the Scottish and the boy, but the south of England is rising up due to a tax he imposed to support a future war with the Scottish.

So, he can’t pull solders from the south to help fight off the boy, and he must squash those rebellions. He divvies up the troops, tells Richard Poole to mark down the names of people who don’t ride for him because they’re against him, and when the Cardinal asks about Spain, he tells him.

“England has no allies.”

As they all leave, Lizzie asks Richard Poole where Arthur is and he tells her that he’s in the Tower for his safety and Harry is on his way back from the pilgrimage.

Henry is suiting up for battle and Lizzie helps him with his weapons.

“I have never gone to battle without Jasper.”

“He’s still with you Henry. His strength rides with you on the battlefield and so does mine.”

“I will return to you a victor.”

He’s able to see Harry before he leaves and Lady Margaret tries to speak to him, but he walks right past her.

***

During the battle, Elizabeth is casting spells for Richard.

The winds change and Henry looks out into the woods. They walk down a stream that fills with fog behind them.

They start to hear people, but they don’t find anyone.

In Bermondsey Abbey, Elizabeth drops her ring into the bowl and falls back in her chair, unable to complete the spell.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

***

Henry arrives back in London and tells Lizzie that the boy withdrew and didn’t stand against him.

Lizzie tells him that no one will ever believe his claim again because no York would ever run from battle.

In their rooms, we finally get the love scene between them that we’ve been waiting for. One that sees them caring for each other and happy. It’s everything to wipe away the only other scene we have of them together which basically amounted to rape.

As they lie there afterward, Henry says:

“I never thought we’d have this.”

“But we do and none shall take it from us.”

He’s holding her and she rolls toward him and they kiss.

Honestly, it’s everything I wanted it to be and more.

****

In Burgundy, the Duchess is having a fit that the boy ran away from battle after everything she’s done for him.

He left the battle for his son to be born.

The Scottish king is threatening to make peace with the Tudors because of their wasted money.

Despite this news, the Duchess of Burgundy seems at peace with how everything is progressing.

***

Henry tells everyone that the boy didn’t leave the battlefield because he was scared, he left because he was going to greet his newborn son.

The son strengthens his claim on the throne and others will now declare for him. Richard Poole says maybe he won’t come back, but Henry says:

“He’ll come. We do not know where or when, but he’ll come.”

Henry says they need Spain more than ever, and Lizzie knows the only way they’ll gain Spain.

***

Several scenes run together as Henry deals with the prospect of going to war with no support. Lizzie’s writing letters to the other nobles, asking them to support Henry’s cause as he rides to protect England. Lady Margaret is laid prostrate on the chapel floor, praying. Elizabeth is walking the grounds of Bermondsey Abbey and falls down.

***

Henry approaches Lizzie as she’s writing the letters to the noble families. She tells him there are over fifty families and they must all turn out for him.

Instead of addressing that, he caresses her shoulder and tells her:

“Your mother is dying. You must go to her. I regret that I did not see Jasper. He asked for me. Now I shall never know what he would have said to me. Go.”

He tells her he would have done exactly as the boy has done. He has gathered the Cornish that hate Henry to fight against him and he must ride south now.

****

Lizzie goes to see her mother as she lays dying.

“I waited for you.”

“I’m here.”

“What we have lived through together.”

Elizabeth tells her that she’s dying, and she begs that Lizzie be there for her brother. Elizabeth tells her that she hasn’t been fair to her and Lizzie tells her that she loves her and it’s okay.

Once again, Elizabeth asks Lizzie to take care of Richard and make sure he’s not in danger. She takes off her witchcraft ring and gives it to Lizzie.

Elizabeth dies shortly after it’s taken off.

****

In the York camp, Richard is praying and Cathy comes up behind him. He tells her to go and seek sanctuary and when he’s done, he’ll come for them.

In the Tudor camp, Lizzie shows up and tells Henry that her mother died and asks why the nobles aren’t there.

They blame Henry for the sweating sickness or they feel since Spain isn’t with them that they’re weak.

“The boy has the whole Kingdom and my own men flocking to his side.”

“No! They are traitors. They will not do this.”

Lizzie rides to stop them and she asks if they know him.

“England is invaded by a pretender and the Scots. Since when have Englishmen feared gales and Celts and run from battle with their tales tucked between their legs?”

“They say he is the true king. Richard of York.”

“If he were Richard, he would be my brother and I would tell you so myself, but he is here to kill your King and rob England of what was never his. If your fear God, then you will honor your true king, Henry Tudor. And if you will not do it for your king then do it for me. The daughter of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville, who has just passed from this life into God’s hands.”

And just like that, Elizabeth brings back the nobles and Henry’s chances of winning.

“When this battle is over, you will live in peace with your families, knowing you have done your duty to your King, your God, and your Queen.”

In the tent, Henry asks how he can repay her and she tells him to come back to her. She almost tells him that she loves him, and he tells her to tell him afterward.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

****

During the battle, Henry comes face-to-face with Richard, but just like that, he disappears.

#gallery-0-3 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-3 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-3 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-3 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

***

At court, Henry sits beside Lizzie and they watch their children play in front of them. Lizzie tells him that he won and the boy withdrew.

Lord Stanley receives a letter, saying that the boy has claimed sanctuary in an abbey that sheltered her. Lady Margaret takes this a sign that her pilgrimage was okay’ed by God and says she’ll go and get the boy.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

She casually drops that the monk can look up God’s work in their library…

The boy is brought out to face Lady Margaret, and she asks if he has anything else to wear. He ends up changing clothes with a guard.

Cathy watches from an upstairs window.

***

The children are playing cards with Lizzie and Henry when Lord Stanely comes into the room, telling them that Lady Margaret has the boy.

Henry and Lizzie share a look, and it’s like Lizzie is afraid of what she’ll see when he arrives.

***

Next week on The White Princess, the boy causes problems in Henry and Lizzie’s marriage. Will this pretender make Henry doubt things even more between them?

Here’s a look into next week’s episode, “Two Kings”.

A pretender to the throne is held captive at court, confounding the Tudors, and creating a new rift in Lizzie and King Henry’s marriage. Lizzie faces an impossible choice, and makes a risky move to try to eliminate the threat to her family.

The White Princess airs on Sundays at 8/7c on Starz! Be sure to live tweet with us @WeSoNerdy!

RECAP: ‘The White Princess’ Season One, Episode Six “English Blood on English Soil” The York rebellion has been given new life with Richard's marriage to Cathy Gordon. Meanwhile Henry and Lizzie work to secure the throne through an arranged marriage with Spain.

0 notes