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gilbirda · 2 years

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Employee of the month

Or Danny is an Arkham Security Guard, from this post

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

<< Prequel - Mondays, am I right? || Can't have shit in Gotham - Sequel >>

“Employee of the month?” Jazz looked up from her book, wondering if she had heard right. By Danny’s radiant smile, and how he was floating a few centimeters over the floor, she assumed she had.

“Yep!” He crossed his legs in the air. “Boss said I had been a model employee this month and that this has been the longest since any escapes from Arkham.”

“But that’s because you have them all scared half to death.”

“Heh,” Danny appreciated the pun. “And I don’t. I just tell them how things are. They escape, it is my job to bring them back.”

“If I remember correctly, you tell inmates ‘If you choose wrong I will drag you back conscious or not’ or something like that. That sounds like a threat.”

“Where did you hear it?” Danny wasn’t scared of her retaliation. He had done nothing wrong. He even cut back with the spooky eyes!

“People talk. And it's my job to listen, you know.”

“Who told you?”

“You know that what I talk with my patients is confidential.”

“Whooooo??” He floated upside down, being as annoying as he could be, poking Jazz’s cheek.

She swatted the hand away and sighed. “Ivy.”

“Aha!” He did a flip before righting himself and stretching his legs. “What else did she say about me?”

“Danny…”

“I won’t tell, I swear.” He tried to pout and do a puppy face, like Dani has taught him to, but Jazz was used to them at this point.

Still, she relented. “She also asked if you were-”

“Single?”

“No. She is a lesbian, Danny, and I think she and Harley are going out.” His sister put the book down, giving up on getting any reading done. “She asked if you were into underground fight clubs or something.”

“Huh?”

“She’s not the first one to ask me that, though,” Jazz put a hand on her chin. “Dent was curious as well. He thinks he has seen you before in those kinds of places.”

“Blue eyes and dark hair? That seems to be popular in Gotham. The Waynes are all over the theme.”

The other rolled her eyes. “Now that’s just mean. Bruce Wayne only adopts children that remind him of himself as a child when he witnessed his parents’ murder. It’s his way of processing trauma.”

Danny lost height until his feet touched the floor, eyes fixed on his sister’s. “That’s… harsh.”

“But it makes sense, right?” She shrugged. “Bruce Wayne saw something horrible happen and couldn’t fix it, couldn’t do anything to make it better, had no control. He was left alone with his butler in a city that would eat him alive.”

“And he adopts children because… he wants to redeem himself?”

She nodded. “And makes him feel like he can control something, fix something. The feeling helps with dealing with the injustice he experienced.”

Danny sat down for a moment, processing her words. “You have been thinking about this for a while, right?”

Jasmine Fenton could renounce her family as much as she wanted, but the smirk she donned was so similar to the ones Danny usually wore. “What can I say, I was interested in Gotham’s own superheroes and then spiraled from there.”

“Oh?? Anyone in particular? Nightwing, perhaps?” Danny put his arm on the table and then leaned on his hand, a smirk on his lips. He was aware that his sister had a thing for the superhero.

“Nightwing doesn’t operate in Gotham, so no.” Jazz blushed, swatting Danny’s shoulder. “Jerk. I’m so over that crush, you know.”

“Aha.”

“I am! No more superhero crushes.”

“Except Wonder Woman.”

The two siblings held each other’s gaze. They nodded at the same time.

“Except Wonder Woman.” Jazz agreed.

***

Bill had been at Blackgate prison when a rather violent breakout forced them all to be moved to Arkham until reparations were done.

Look, he wasn’t that bad of a guy. He is a professional henchman, but he had to eat. He felt really really bad everytime he took part of horrible acts of violence, he didn’t sign up to murder people just because. So far he didn't have to cross the line - he had done everything he could to lay low and accept the Bat’s beatings and be thrown to jail in peace. He had food and a roof over his head. Jail was okay.

Arkham was not.

That place was made to try and ‘cure’ the worst of the worst - pure lies. It was a place where they could keep an eye on the Batman’s rogues gallery until they managed to escape and do the song and dance all over again.

Arkham was a place where Bill was in danger, more than outside in the city. He and his buddies that came from Blackgate tried to keep it together, but it was widely known the hellscape that this place was.

At least he thought that until he learned something interesting at lunch time. All the low risk inmates were allowed to eat at the cafeteria instead of having food delivered to them; so when his buddies and him sat down to eat some sludge that shouldn’t be called food, the rumors floated to their ears.

“No escape attempts in three months?” Bill turned at the guy that sat with them. He vaguely knew him, but apparently the guy had been in Arkham for a while. “You are kidding me.”

“Nope!”

“Apparently there is this amazing guard?” Another Arkham veteran inmate said, mouth full of ‘food’. “Since he started working here, no troubles.”

“Peaceful.” The first veteran inmate nodded.

“One guard?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, the new guard. Filson, Felton…”

“Fenton!”

“You called?” A new voice, too cheery for this place, suddenly appeared behind him. Bill turned carefully, finding a youthful face smiling down at the group. “What’s up?”

His buddies tensed, but Bill saw the veterans rather relax and smile back at the kid, as if they felt safer with him than in the rest of the prison.

“Hey, Danny! We were just talking to our buddies from Blackgate about the quiet months since you’ve been here!”

“Yeah. Did they give you that employee of the month award in the end?”

Danny laughed and rubbed the back of his neck as a nervous gesture. “Nah, but I hope so? Don’t want to celebrate too early since there’s still a few weeks left.”

Bill shared a look with his friend Dave, who shrugged and kept eating.

“Are the rumors true, then?”

“What rumors?” This caught Danny’s attention.

“Word on the street is that Arkham is changing - that the treatments are working and the crazies here aren’t as violent anymore.”

“First, rude. That term is harmful for the patients here.” He glared at Bill. “And second, who the fuck-”

Bill didn’t see the guard move, but he heard the shouts from other inmates. He looked up, seeing one man on the floor, covering his head as if he expected someone to hit him, and another pinned to the wall, wide eyes searching the room.

“No fighting.” Danny’s calm voice pierced through the now silent cafeteria as he walked towards the pinned criminal. He reached and pulled a spork from the collar of the prisoner’s uniform, dangerously close to the skin of his neck, and shook the plastic cutlery in the face of the inmate. “I told you, Hank. Second strike.”

Hank’s face was pale. He opened his mouth, but the only sound that came was a high pitched tiny shriek.

“Sorry,” the inmate could finally say, just as more guards rushed in to take him and the prisoner on the floor back to their cells.

Bill watched all of this happen and he now understood how only one guard had been the change this place needed. He understood the peace. He understood why on the streets other henchmen spoke of these rumors in whispers, almost as if the mythical figure of this guard was too fantastical to be true.

Was Fenton even human?

***

The first thing Joker was informed as he was shoved into Arkham for the nth time was that things had changed. That there was a period of peace, that a new alpha had come and ruled over the place, planting absolute fear into inmates and guards alike.

“A new experiment from Crane?” he had to ask.

The random, and disposable, henchman wearing a guard uniform (what a joke, how easy it was to buy guards in Arkham to join his side!) shook his head.

“No. A guard. Young, he says he’s 24. He’s been working here for around four months and there’s been only one attempt at escape in that time. It failed.”

“Only one? In four months?” The corrupt guard nodded hastily, looking nervously around him as if he expected to be followed here. Joker hummed. “And everyone is here? Harley, Ivy,...”

“Bane, Crane and even Dent. Everyone. No one will help them escape either. Too scary.”

“More than the Bat?” Joker’s eyebrows went to his hairline, his smile widening. This was interesting.

“I’ve heard them say that being caught by the Bat would be a mercy.”

Joker stopped for a moment to observe how his henchman continued looking behind him, almost as if he expected the boogeyman to be there when he turned. The man was scared of his own shadow, the slight tremble in his hands showing that even if he tried to be calm and report, the man was afraid.

But not afraid of the Joker.

Afraid of this one guard.

Absurd!

Joker didn’t like that. He was the boogeyman, he was the name people whispered because they were afraid of invoking his presence, he was the one that inspired this much fear into Gotham.

“Any other changes around here?”

The man swallowed slowly. “A new doctor. An intern. Young, as well.”

Joker nodded. He could use this. It worked the first time with sweet Harley, no matter how ugly the thing with her ended.

“She… She is his sister.”

“Sister.”

“The… The guard’s,” the man leaned in, closer enough for Joker to bite his face off even from his side of the tiny window of the armored door. “The new guard. It’s his sister.”

Oh?

“Is that so?” Joker smiled. Yeah, he could use this.

He bided his time. He memorized the guard rotations and watched carefully as the new guard, Fenton, although he preferred to be called by his name, Danny, did his rounds. Danny didn’t stop to make conversation with him, or tried to look into his cell, like all the other new guards excited to get their eyes on the Clown Prince of Crime behind bars.

How weird.

But let’s not rush things with the boy. First, he wanted to meet the sister.

Dr. Fenton wasn’t remarkable, and she didn’t look like her brother at all. If he hadn’t been told they were siblings he wouldn’t have guessed. Also, the sister was very serious and tried hard to be taken seriously; but in a place like Arkham Asylum, people as bright and fresh like her were chewed up and broken really quickly. Usually by people like him.

“I’m impressed, doctor,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling at the young woman on the other side of the bulletproof glass. She had spent the last ten minutes presenting herself and how his case had been registered. “You got me completely analyzed.”

But Jasmine didn’t say anything, just wrote something on her clipboard. Joker didn’t like that. Usually new doctors took the bait.

“What? Don’t you have any ground breaking diagnosis? Don’t you want me cataloged and prepared for treatment?”

Dr. Fenton looked briefly up from her paper, but her hand kept writing. Impressive multitasking skill. “Do you want me to?”

“I mean, isn’t that the whole point of your job? Curing me?”

Her mouth twitched, but she kept writing.

“Are you ignoring me? What a boring doctor! At least Harley kept the conversation going.”

This made her hand stop. Finally!

The doctor looked at him in the eye, but didn’t look away when he smiled. Huh.

“I am aware of your mind games, Joker. I know about Dr. Harleen’s case. I know how you work. If you are trying to take advantage of my youth and inexperience to get into my mind, let me tell you it won’t work. I’m immune to mind control,” she smirked a little, as if this was an inside joke of some kind.

He didn’t like not being in on the joke.

Jasmine continued her writing on the clipboard, sometimes looking up, twisting her mouth a little and then looking back down at her notes.

“I heard you have a brother,” Joker tried again after being shut down so harshly. Jasmine stopped her hand again and swallowed. Yes! A soft spot. “I heard he is a guard here.”

She nodded. “He is.” But didn’t offer any kind of information. If they were such good siblings, as the reports from his people inside the prison said, she would have made a comment about him.

“I heard he keeps the bad guys in.”

“It’s his job.” She shrugged.

“How is he adjusting?”

“We aren’t here to talk about my brother.” She shut him down again, but this time, instead of continuing writing on the clipboard, she put it down on the table. Joker looked briefly and read something like ‘... thinks he is like Walker, but he’s more like Boxy, in a way…’. What did that even mean?

“Then what are we here to talk about! You just sit there silently taking notes!” Joker noticed he had tensed in the chair and forced himself to relax. “That’s kind of unprofessional.”

She just shrugged again. “Whine all you want but I’m still assigned to treat you. We will see each other pretty often.”

“Is that a threat, miss?”

“Doctor, please.” She picked up the clipboard and looked at her watch. “And it’s not a threat, I’m just doing my job. Our time is almost up. Do you have any last comments?”

Joker leaned in, the chains around his cuffed hands clinking against the metal table.

“I have to ask, do you really think I can be cured? Be reinstalled into society?”

Jasmine tilted her head, thinking about her answer. Joker expected her to say that yes, she could. Almost all the young ones hoped to become famous for curing the horrible Joker.

“Cured? Maybe. Reinstalled into society is not likely. Too driven by obsession to really settle back among humans.”

Joker lifted an eyebrow. “That means you’d rather kill me?”

“With how into your theme you are already it is likely you’ll come back as a ghost. And having to deal with that? Not in my priority list.” She smirked as she stood from her seat, looking down at the clown with piercing blue eyes. “No, before I give the order for your execution, I would first make sure your existence will be wiped from the Infinite Realms after your last breath.”

She left without looking back.

Somehow her words were harsher than all the other times people threatened to kill him. Was it how she spoke of it like it only was a matter of time? Was it how she used the words ‘wiped out’, like he was a mere stain in this world? Or was it the cold eyes that even the Bat would envy, so out of place in such a young face?

Joker didn’t usually feel small, but this disturbing exchange almost made him feel… mortal. He hadn’t been in control since the young woman entered the room. She ignored him and didn’t bite any of the bait he left out to reign her in.

This doctor had to die. He didn’t like her.

***

Joker was still fuming when, hours later, the young guard everyone was raving about passed by his cell while doing his rounds.

“Hey, boy.” He said. The guard, Danny, turned to look, his soft smile freezing and turning into a frown when he saw who was calling him.

“Joker.” He simply nodded, but walked a bit closer. The other guard way behind Danny pulled out his radio and talked in whispers, probably informing the other guards about the conversation. “Everything okay?”

“I met your sister.” Joker was too angry to start any games. It did the expected effect, as the guard tensed and narrowed his eyes. “Charming girl.”

Danny’s expression didn’t change, but his body was ready to jump. “That she is.”

“Are you proud of her?”

The guard tilted his head. “Very.”

“Did you follow her here? Or the other way around?” Danny arched an eyebrow, but didn’t answer. “I can’t imagine how such a sweet thing like her would willingly work in this place, with people like me.”

Danny glared at him from the other side of the glass, but didn’t say anything. Joker was taller than the boy, and the ability to smile down at the guard was… refreshing. Especially after the distasteful experience with the other Fenton.

“There are really dangerous criminals here, lad. Something could happen to her.”

It was instantaneous. The boy’s eyes widened before settling back into a glare, and Joker had to laugh at how comical it was to see such an expression in such a young face. Yes. Yes! This was better. He felt better, more in control.

“Maybe some deranged wrongdoer would need to knock her down a few notches. You know.” Joker’s smile widened when he saw a muscle in the boy’s jaw twitch. “Just business, obviously. Nothing personal.”

Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath, probably to calm his nerves. Good. Only a little push and the Fenton duo would know that with Joker in Arkham, things would go back to normal. What was this nonsense about peace and quiet? A little bit of controlled chaos was what was needed in this place.

Joker opened his mouth to hammer the last nail in the coffin, when the guard opened his eyes.

Green eyes. Glowing.

Huh. A meta? In Gotham? How wonderful! Oh my, when the Bat learned about this… He needed to tell him about this new guard hiding in Arkham, of all places! Once he escaped this place -

“Listen to me, and listen carefully.” Joker blinked, feeling his body freeze in place. Fear? No, it wasn’t fear that pinned him down. “I will only say this once.” A loud bang! Resonated in the cell when the guard slammed his hands on the door. “I’m playing nice because I really like my job here, but if you do anything, especially touch my sister, I. Will. Not. Hold. Back.”

Joker opened his mouth, but as he looked into the green pools that were his eyes, he could feel the air leave his lungs. His body stopped obeying him as well, frozen in place, literally frozen in place, as he could register the temperature dropping inside his cell.

“She believes she can cure you - that if she tries hard enough she could make this prison a more humane place.” Danny’s eyes were bright, so bright. What was he saying? The Joker couldn’t focus. The green. The green was bleeding everywhere. “Sabotage her and I will kill you. Try to hurt her, and I will make your afterlife a living hell.”

What was going on? Joker tried to focus back into his body, but he couldn’t. He saw Danny figure out he was paralized, and the guard smiled. But it was wrong. Wrong. The smile was too wide with too many teeth. Where was the other guard? Why wasn’t anyone coming to check what was going on?

“Humans. You always think that death is the worst thing that could happen.” Danny chuckled, but the sound was distorted in Joker’s ears, with an eerie echo. Somewhere in the background, radio static dialed in, becoming louder and louder. Why wasn’t anyone hearing this!?

“I-” Joker managed to strangle past the knot in his throat.

“No, you don’t get to speak. You will stay put and let my sister treat you. You will NOT try anything against her.” The static was getting into dangerous volume now, almost making Danny’s words impossible to hear. Weird enough, the next thing he said he heard clearly. “Don’t you ever try to escape, Joker. Death won’t come for you.” A green tongue licked the uncanny white teeth in a too wide mouth. Joker couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t look away. “Because I will find you first.”

Danny slammed his hands against the metal door again, startling Joker out of his paralysis. He fell down on his back, consciously fighting the instinct to crawl far away from the door. Joker didn’t feel fear. He didn’t fear anyone! Not the Batman, not this sole guard!

He quickly jumped towards the little glass window, expecting to see Danny smiling there with his green eyes and inhuman mouth, but there was no one there. Not even the other guard, who definitely should have seen everything.

Joker looked down, still feeling cold, expecting to see the ice that pinned him down. But the cell was as it always has been. Empty. Clean.

Somehow that didn’t make it better.

***

Danny was sitting again at the desk of Alfonso Ramírez, the Chief of Security of Arkham. The last time he was here, the wide man looked at him like he wouldn’t last a week, too tired and too overworked to really stop and consider Danny as nothing more than a temporary employee.

“I must admit,” the man swallowed loudly, “I’m impressed, Mr. Fenton.”

“Danny is okay,” he smiled. It was nice to be complimented.

The Chief pulled a cloth from his uniform and wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking down at some papers in his hands. He looked back up at Danny.

“Four months in Arkham and only one escape attempt, which failed, thanks to you. The morale, for guards and inmates alike, is off the charts. And two weeks since Joker was admitted and no incidents reported, at least not after your ‘talk’ with him.”

Danny nodded slowly. Jimmy had radioed everyone that Danny had talked with Joker, but didn’t approach enough to really listen in to what was said. Also, the other guard didn’t see any of the spooky stuff he let the Clown glimpse at; only that Danny had said some strong words and slammed the metal door a few times.

Five days after the incident, Jimmy confessed that he had bet twenty bucks that Danny would have been found killed in ‘suspicious circumstances’ less than three days after the argument with Joker.

He wasn’t even mad about it. It wasn’t like the Joker could make him be deader than his current state.

“The board had decided to offer you a raise and a new position as Supervisor, as well as the employee of the month award. And cafeteria benefits.”

Danny blinked. He had hoped for the employee of the month, but not the other parts.

“I didn’t expect… I mean. Thank you?”

The Chief frowned a little. “Do I hear a ‘but’?”

“With all due respect, sir, I like my job as a simple guard.” Easier to stay inconspicuous, especially after the almost slip with the Joker. “The cafeteria benefits are cool, though.” He shrugged.

Chief Ramirez looked at him as if he had grown a second head. He looked down at the papers. Looked back up at the strange but really useful guard.

“Whatever makes you happier, kid. Danny.” The man corrected after he saw the guard open his mouth. He hated being called ‘kid’. Maybe it was time to start listening to him. “Then how about employee of the month and the cafeteria benefits?”

Danny’s smile was sheepish. “Is the raise tied to the Supervisor position?”

<< Prequel - Mondays, am I right? || Can't have shit in Gotham - Sequel >>

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ectonurites · 3 years

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hey! how knowledgeable are you on stephanie brown? because i got in a bit of an argument with a dc fan on reddit who claims she's all these awful things, but im still relatively new to steph and i want to see what was true and what wasn't. link to screenie right here: https://ibb.co/vh6CYCJ

these may be matters of opinion, but even then, i'd like to know your take. i haven't read her firsthand often enough and i trust your judgement over this random redditor who seems to have some sort of blonde-woman related trauma left untapped.

I'm not necessarily the most knowledgable on her in the world, but I do know a decent amount because she's one of my absolute faves and I love her

But ohhhh boy that screenshot is a lot.

I will say that several of the things this person brings up are based in canon but are taken in the worst faith and framed in the way that makes her look as bad as possible, if that makes sense? It’s ripping things away from any context, because there's a very clear bias against her here.

I'll go through it point by point under the cut

First of all though before digging into this, I want to make it clear she was a 15 year old for the majority of the things this person is talking about. Like just pause for a second and remember she’s a 15 year old victim of abuse. That is something that I think factors into a lot of her behavior! Anyways, I kinda while doing this got into a ranty 'talking at you' format in response to the person who wrote all that, so don't take any of this as me yelling at you who asked the question/you anyone reading this.

"She always acted entitled" - Saying Steph is entitled is absolutely ridiculous to me. Stephanie grew up with a very unstable childhood due to her dad frequently being in prison and her mom dealing with a drug addiction, living in a lower class part of the city. Tim is entitled. I don’t mean that as like a bad thing about him, but he is based on his living situation, she is not. She has wanted life to be better for herself and her mom, and is determined about that, but she is not and does not act entitled.

(Secret Origins 80 Page Giant)

"and stubborn" - I will give you stubborn though, that one is true. She’s stubborn as hell! I don’t really see that as a bad thing though, pretty much every bat is stubborn?

"demanding that Batman and Robin accept her untrained ass" - Steph may have been untrained in fighting but she's shown to have exceptional gymnastics skills from the start, and at one point Bruce even says that with the right training she could be as good if not better than Tim (in Robin #88)! So like... her realizing she enjoys trying to be a hero after she tried it out to deal with her personal business, so she looks to the local experts… and is determined about it… how is that a bad thing? It’s also not like she walked up to them and said ‘im perfect as i am let me in’ what she wanted was a chance to be a hero. But she also wasn't even really looking for approval, either, not having Batman's blessing was never going to stop her. ("So excuse me if I don't jump when you bark, Batman." in Robin #16) Later when Bruce does bring her in to train (and she also gets to train with the BoP) she's excited! She’s stubborn about wanting to be in the hero business, but it’s not like she’s unwilling to work for it.

"advocating leaving criminals to die because they 'deserve it'" - She’s a 15 year old who grew up knowing firsthand how dangerous Gotham criminals can be because of her dad, of course off the bat when they’re in a dangerous situation where any of them could die (because that’s the context here, this is in Robin #35 where they’re trapped in some super dangerous snow) she thinks they shouldn’t go back for another criminal who just tried to kill them and should instead save themselves. But she also literally WITHIN THAT SAME ISSUE then says she realized she learned something after listening to Tim and trying to save the guy! In the same issue! Characters in a story aren’t supposed to be perfect from the start… they learn things along the way???

(Robin #35)

"trying to steal from the shops they just stopped from being burglarized" - She’s 15 and doesn’t have a ton of money. She was gonna take two sodas, and when Tim said not to do it she paid with very little fuss. They stopped people who were robbing the place at gunpoint for prescription drugs. If you can’t understand the difference in severity between those things like… I do not even know where to start. (this situation is in Robin #56 btw)

"forcing physical affection onto Tim despite his visible discomfort and repeated objections (not even stopping when he told her he had a girlfriend)" - This one I will give you because she did cross boundaries with all that! But I do also want to clarify that she didn't start coming onto him until after Tim kissed her first (in Robin #5) while not telling her he had a girlfriend. That doesn’t excuse her later actions but for the first issue that she’s coming onto him from her perspective he expressed interest and she was just returning it! She even specifically says 'Maybe I should pay you back for saving my life the same way you paid me' (in Robin #16) before kissing him. That first time she kissed him unprompted was under essentially the same circumstances he kissed her unprompted, and she literally did not know about Ariana until after the fact. From that point once she knew about Ari she definitely should have backed off and she didn’t, that’s a very fair thing to criticize about her as a character. But Tim lead her on first, and I feel a lot of people like to casually forget that when talking about this situation. The way this is phrased of ‘not even stopping when he told her-‘ implies she was repeatedly doing the bad behavior before he told her, which is not the case. She still did bad things here but don’t misrepresent the situation.

"And lashing out at Tim, her mother, and her classmates in violent fits of anger" - Every comic book character lashes out at other people for the sake of drama like, I dare you to come up with a well-known superhero character who hasn’t done shit like that to a partner/family/friends in a moment of high tension/stress?

"She treated the girls around her like they were stupid bitches" - frankly this ones a little too vague like, I'm not sure off the top of my head exactly what they're talking about? in that era right around her pregnancy and stuff I really don't recall her being mean with other girls? I could be forgetting something I guess but the closest I can think of is a bit after this period of time when she has the confrontation with Greta in Young Justice but that was Greta attacking her first, not the other way around.

"got insanely jealous if Tim so much as expressed concern about another girl" - Steph getting jealous and thinking Tim was cheating isn’t that crazy when STEPHANIE BASICALLY WAS THE OTHER GIRL DURING TIM’S LAST RELATIONSHIP? Tim has cheated a little bit before! Tim cheated on Ari with both Jubilee from Marvel (during a crossover thing where he even mentions Ari specifically so it’s not like this was out of continuity/a setting she wasn't an issue or something) and also with Steph. While most of the kissing between them was Steph coming onto Tim which I wouldn’t count as cheating on his end, he did still kiss her which I would count. Not to mention that the jealousy thing (I imagine they’re talking about the instance with Star, the girl who taught Tim to skateboard, this arc of stuff starts in Robin #80 and continues for a few issues) is happening during the time she’s dating him while she still doesn’t even know his real name. He literally has a whole other life she doesn’t know about, and is someone who has initiated romantic moments with other girls while in a relationship multiple times before! With that in mind I don’t think a 16 (she's def 16 by this point) year old girl being kinda paranoid about how he interacts with girls he might know in his civilian life is that unreasonable? The later big instance with jealousy is the Darla situation- where Steph sees Darla kiss him and gets mad about it (and doesn’t talk to him about it) and thats what prompts her to become Robin. The important thing to remember about Steph in this time frame is that DC decided she had to die and they wanted to make her Robin first to drum up more attention for that death. They were doing ooc things with her to set those pieces in motion, and that needs to be taken into account. I think her getting upset about seeing something like that isn’t even ooc, but her using it as motivation to become Robin and not even saying anything to him about it is. In the earlier instance where she’s upset/jealous about Star, she does communicate to him what’s going on at least a little bit on the rooftop after they’d saved her. She makes it clear the thing she was upset about is that she feels like she can’t trust him because she doesn’t really know him while he knows everything about her, and that’s why she thinks he’s cheating. Her reaction to the Darla thing is not in line with how earlier in canon Steph would have handled the same situation, because they wanted her to die and needed a way to explain her becoming Robin.

"and expressed that jealousy by accusing him of cheating and throwing things at him" - I just addressed the cheating stuff but the throwing things was fucking slapstick oh my god this is a comic book for kids/teens like. ah yes this is horrible abuse in this little funny montage of how Steph wants him to leave her alone because she’s mad at him and he refuses to give her space

(Robin #82)

I don’t think anyone at DC or even in fandom would/should try to argue she’s perfect, because she’s not! And I don’t want her to be because perfect characters are boring. Steph is flawed, Steph has been compared in canon to Robin-era Jason by Cass & Bruce

(Detective Comics #790)

And I think these highlight some of her very real flaws that are an interesting part of her character. These plus her stubbornness and determination are part of what makes her her.

And for fuck's sake the world was mean to her, and to act like it wasn’t is just blatantly ignoring a lot. A criminal father who made her life really difficult (‘when my dad was mad at me he’d lock me in the closet!’), that time she got kidnapped for two weeks and her mom had left her (a 15 year old) alone at home so long she didn't even find out it happened (in text Steph says Crystal was visiting friends, a lot of people interpret that as her mom possibly being in rehab for her addictions again), that whole thing about how one of her dad’s friends tried to sexually assault her as a child, also just how due to her dad's work sometimes criminals would be living in their house (Literally the fucking Riddler at one point!), the fact that we as an audience watched her get tortured for several days because a plan she tried to enact to prove herself backfired since Batman didn’t trust her with important information (something Selina even calls him out on in her internal narration), like… sorry but in what way is all that not the world being mean to her?

She was Robin, she dated Robin, she likes Eggplant (because purple would've looked stupid), and makes jokes. She’s also impulsive, headstrong and determined, and wants to prove to herself and others that she can be more than just the daughter of a shitty criminal, that she can actually be a force to do good in the world.

She’s a complex character, and nobody is required to like her, but to act like she doesn’t have a single redeeming trait is ridiculous. You could write a paragraph like that with the worst moments of basically any character and make them look like shit if that's what you were setting out to do.

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enviedear · 4 years

Text

dreams → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco tries to make amends with his old bestfriend he pushed away. the girl who saw the best in him, and still might.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.6k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you knew what was to come before it actually came. you could tell from the way he acted. instead of confiding in you, he would ignore you. instead of listening to you, he would find an excuse to leave the conversation.

your best friend was not your best friend anymore. but you were a hopeful third year then, and the thought of a diminishing friendship seemed ridiculous.

it was a horribly cold day when it all happened. you were sat near the frozen black lake, watching snowfall when you had heard the familiar call of your name.

when you turned around you had seen your best friend, draco.

“i’ve missed you! come sit beside me and catch up,” you exclaimed.

“i can’t do that, y/n.” he had said, simply.

you still remember the way you looked at him. your eyes were full of innocent confusion.

“draco what are you talking about? are you scared of getting your ass wet from the snow?” you had teased.

“no. i just can’t be around you anymore.” his eyes were colder than the air around you.

you didn’t say anything, just continued looking at him. none of it had felt real. sure draco wasn’t the nicest boy in your year, but he was your best friend. this all had to be some joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

“i can’t hang about some ditzy hufflepuff. if i want to keep my friends i can’t be seen with you. and if i want to date pansy i can’t have some lovestruck girl around me all the time, can i?” he had hissed.

lovestruck? no. not at the time, in third year you only wanted a friend.

“oh. okay, i’m sorry for bothering you then.” you had mumbled.

and that was that. nothing else was said between the two of you. you had quickly abandoned the notion of watching the snowfall, and instead, slipped into your empty dorm room.

you had made your way to your bed, closed the curtains, and laid there for hours. the thoughts in your head keeping you awake. you’d missed dinner, and your dorm mates had brought you some without a word. that night, it rained. it was a terrible thunderstorm.

but the thunder seemed to match your pain, and it comforted you a little. and after that night, you started enjoying every thunderstorm.

you were now in your sixth year, and many things had changed. mainly, your feelings toward a certain blonde slytherin.

“if i were parkinson i’d feel so embarrassed for myself.” your best friend, ruth giggles.

the two of you were at dinner, and ruth had a perfect view of draco and pansy.

“why? what’s happening?” you ask.

“well, she’s trying to hold his hand but he’s much too focused on his turkey leg to take notice of her. poor girl, you’d think she’d figure out the bloke doesn’t like her.” ruth sighs.

you roll your eyes, “pansy would put up with anything for malfoy. she’s so dependent.”

it was a horribly rude thing to say of course, but it was true. you were sure everyone knew that parkinson would do anything to get into a relationship with malfoy.

“well, i’m all done. want to head to the library with me before it closes?” ruth asks.

you nod your head and grab your bag.

the walk to the library after dinner had become part of your daily routine, and if it weren’t for ruth you know you’d probably forget to study most days.

the two of you find a table to sit at, and take out your books. it’s only november, so the workload isn’t too heinous yet. you choose to review your potions notes and begin to study ahead for the upcoming lesson.

you’re in the middle of reading a section about the elixir of euphoria when ruth tells you she’s going to head to bed.

“okay, goodnight. i’m going to finish this and then i’ll be down there.” you smile at her.

she bids you goodnight, and then you’re left alone. by the time you finish, it’s well past bedtime. but lucky enough, you’re a prefect. the fact always comes in handy for you.

you pack away your books and begin heading for the hufflepuff common room. you’re just outside the library when you see someone pass by the adjoining corridor.

the dim light makes it impossible for you to determine who it is, so you follow after them.

“excuse me! no one is to be out of bed right now. i’m going to have to give you detention..” you trail off, making eye contact with the familiar grey eyes of your childhood.

“y/l/n.” he says, almost surprised.

you don’t say anything, you simply pull out a detention slip and hand it to him.

“get to your common room, malfoy.” you mutter, turning around.

“are you still mad at me?” you hear him ask, his tone light and careful.

“whatever are you talking about?” you glare, turning to face him once more.

“you know what i’m talking about, y/l/n. i think you’re giving me this bloody detention because you’re still upset i didn’t want to be your friend in third year.” he spits.

you feel your ears grow hot before you reply, “we’re not kids anymore. i’ve moved on and so should you. leave me alone, malfoy.” and with that, you leave the boy standing alone.

the next day is much the same as usual. you start the day with charms, struggle your way through advanced transfiguration, and go to herbology. after lunch, it’s time for your free period.

most days, ruth accompanies you outside near the black lake to sit and relax. with everything going on in the world these past few years, you’re glad to have a friend you can confide in. today, however, she’s stuck retaking a charms test. so you’re all alone this evening.

the cold november air casts goosebumps on your skin, but you’re too focused on your thoughts to care. all day, you’ve found yourself reliving last night with draco. you’ve played the situation out so many times you’re convinced that at this point, you’ve come up with every single way the conversation could have gone.

maybe you could have be nicer to him? maybe you shouldn’t have spoken at all? maybe you should have put him in his place more?

all of these thoughts bombard you, and make you feel just like you did back in third year. weak, confused, and hurt. you didn’t even know why you were thinking of draco so much in the first place.

well, maybe you did know. even though you weren’t friends anymore, you still looked out for him. there were plenty of times people would speak badly of him for things he couldn’t change, and you’d be quick to defend him.

you also always listened in to any conversation where his name was brought up. at this point, you were sure it was instinct.

you didn’t like draco anymore, but you still loved him. granted, not the way you loved him as a child. no, now you have a love for him that rivals any love poem, song, or illustration.

and you hate it. you don’t know why you love him, and it doesn’t stop you from loathing the person he is now. though, you’ve often let your mind slip into a different scenario. one where draco never stops being your friend. he doesn’t care for what others have to say. and after school the two of you fall in love and live in a cottage in italy.

but the only cottage you can possibly see in your near future is hagrids’. so you always stop the thought before you can become too invested. all your wishes for a different life with draco can never come to fruition anyway.

you check your watch and see it’s time to head inside for dinner. you’ve almost reached the greenhouses before you’re violently pulled backward, causing you to fall straight on your ass.

you look up and are greeted with the very face you told to leave you alone.

“great, it’s you. have you come to hex me for your little detention?” you remark, getting to your feet.

“you’re such a brash person to be in hufflepuff, has anyone ever told you that.” draco spits, before lighting his tone, “sorry i didn’t mean— i just need to speak with you.”

“so you flung me on my ass?”

“i didn’t mean to!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “i don’t want to speak with you. for the last time, leave me alone.”

“y/n you don’t understand i don’t have anyone else to talk to!” he shouts.

“oh so now you want to talk to me! just because your other friends are too busy now. what is it they’re busy with draco, helping the dark lord?” you seethe.

he huffs and looks down, not saying a word.

“that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? keep me out of it, malfoy. i don’t want to be a part of your pathetic ideology.” you jeer.

he keeps his gaze on the ground when he mutters, “i don’t want to be a part of it either. that’s why i wanted to speak to you,” he looks up and stares right into your eyes. “i need help.”

your mind goes a mile a minute. you can’t stop looking at him. you don’t know if this is real or not but you reply before you properly think it out.

“what do you need from me?”

you see him relax a little. his eyebrows lower, he slouches a bit, and his eyes become softer. he looks more like the draco you knew. the thought makes your stomach drop and your mind race.

“can i take you somewhere?” he asks.

you nod your head and begin to follow the tall boy. he leads you into the castle, and up to the seventh floor. he looks at you before telling you to stand where you are and walks up and down the corridor three times.

you look at him confused and are about to suggest that maybe someone hit him with a confundus charm when suddenly a door appears in front of you.

“the room of requirement?” you ask, amazed.

draco doesn’t say anything as he pulls you into the room with him.

the room in question amazes you. there are millions of things that capture your gaze. it makes you feel extremely small.

“what are we doing here, draco?” you quiz.

“i’m going to show you something but you have to promise not to judge too quickly,” he stresses.

“i can’t just promise you—“ you stop yourself, taking away your defenses, “i won’t judge you draco. just get it over with.”

he lets out a deep sigh before lifting up his sleeve on his left arm, and you know what it is before he shows you.

a dark mark.

“draco, that’s kind of hard not to judge,” you affirm.

“i know. y/n, but i didn’t want it. he— he made me. my bloody father ruined everything. now i have to play as the dark lords' pawn. he’s asked me to do the unthinkable...” draco falters.

“what do you mean? what’s the unthinkable?”

the boy in front of you begins to look even more broken and hurt as he no doubt begins to think about whatever is troubling him.

“dumbledore. i have to kill him.” he says, tears pooling out of his grey eyes.

the confession causes you to step closer to the boy. you search his face for a lie, but come up empty-handed.

“you don’t have to, draco! you can go into hiding with me. we can go into the muggle world. do not do this, draco.” you plead.

“y/n you don’t understand. the dark lord will kill my mother if i don’t. she’s doesn’t deserve to die because of father’s mistakes or my cowardice. i have to do this. i just need one person to know that i never wanted to do it.” he tells you, desperately trying to wipe away his tears.

you can’t bring yourself to say anything, so instead, you wrap your arms around him. he’s still cold from the breeze outside and he shakes a little still from his confession. but you hold onto him and rub his back.

“i’m so sorry for everything. for third year, for this. i’m sorry y/n. i know you told me that i shouldn’t be worried about something that happened when we were kids, but i can’t help it. i never forgave myself.” he whispers into your ear.

“i know you’re sorry, draco.” you whisper back.

he pulls away from you and puts a hand on your cheek, “i was scared. you made me a good person and it scared me. and i loved you. salazar, did i love you.”

you furrow your eyebrows, “you loved me? back in third year?”

“so much. i never stopped really. i thought about telling you so many times over the past few years, but i could never work up the courage. then this happened and—” he sighs looking down at his mark, “well i thought i should tell you before everything happens.”

“i love you too. i hated not having you in my life.” you confess.

“i’ll never leave you again. i know it’s a lot to ask of you. i want you to tell me if you don’t want to be a part of this. you don’t have to put up with my fucked up life.” he expresses.

“i know you’re good, draco. i’ll make sure that after all of this is over, you’re not seen as something you’re not. when harry kills him and ends it all, i’ll be here. i want to be here for you, and i will.”

his eyes take in your words, watching your lips. the two of you are so close you can smell the deep and musky fragrance of his cologne. you feel the beat of his heart. his eyes bounce around from your mouth to you eyes, looking more asking each glance.

finally, you begin asking him the same question without the use of words. he doesn’t hesitate and connects his lips to yours. there’s electricity to the kiss. the motion causes your world to become brighter. you feel as though you’re opening up a part of your soul that hasn’t been touched in years, making you lean in deeper. the two of you are exploring parts of yourselves and each other, and before you can figure one thing out the kiss takes you to a new revelation.

the kiss starts to become even more hungry and intense. draco slips his free hand to the back of your neck, and you bring your hands to his soft hair desperately trying to pull him even closer. you feel your face get hotter and your stomach flutters more. draco’s lips are like the violent thunder you’d grown so accustomed to loving over the years. it makes you yearn for more, even though you know you have everything. you have every single fiber of the blonde boy. his soul is yours, and yours is his.

when the two of you pull away, nothing is said. you both silently come to the same conclusion, what you two share now makes up for what was lost.

“i’m so glad i never moved on from you.” he professes.

you smile a little at his wording, thinking back to the previous night. looking back in it now, you don’t understand why you’d ever lie to him.

“i never really wanted you to.” you say.

even though nothing is perfect and your situation had too many issues to write down, you and draco feel comfort and ease the both of you haven’t felt in a long time.

this time, you won’t let it escape you.

#—myfics !#draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco one shot #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x y/n #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #hufflepuff!reader #stephs200challenge

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prospektsghost · 3 years

Text

a little 2doc ficlet i was thinking about and decided to write, i have left tumblr and this blog for a while but this is something i came up with?? my first time writting in english since its not my first language

anywas HBD ya filthy old man

Cold. He always feels cold.

He tries to warm his hands, but he never can, and only assumes that he is trapped with this cold all his life.

"Do you ever regret it? Selling your soul I mean".

He had forgotten that 2D was by his side, somehow 2D... Stuart was always there.

Murdoc thinks about what the singer has just said, but his whole life has been a lot of horrible situations and after selling his soul... well.

He has his band, he has Noodle, who is like a daughter to him

He never imagined himself as a family man, but he had that weakness for her.

Russel! Russel was more like his father, since Noodle was little, Russel had taken more care of her than he had.

But she turned out to be... more like him.

Just like him.

What a role model he was.

And then there was 2D, dents, faceache, "D", Stu.

Stuart

He takes a long drag on his cigarette.

"No".

He finally responds after thinking about it for a long time, and realizes that his cigarette had been consumed, he clicks his tongue.

2D approaches him and Murdoc has to look up to see the expression on the keyboard player's face.

"You can have mine."

He says and goes closer to give him the cigarette, the blue-haired man has a smile on his face and Murdoc remembers how 2D is always at his disposal, he watches the boy ... no. The middle-aged man he sees in front of him, and for once in his life, really reads the expression on his companion's face.

And he doesn't like it.

But… he takes the offered object anyway.

"Got a light? left mine inside the house" he asks, raising the cigar to his lips.

"Sure"

2D takes the lighter out of his jacket bag, and as soon as he reaches for his hand to light the cigarette that is now between the bassist's lips, he feels the difference in temperatures between his hands when they have contact due to the proximity.

"Murdoc, you're freezing," he says as he lights the cigarette. "Why don't we go in with the others?"

After the cigarette is lit, Murdoc quietly mutters a "thank you" so slowly that he has 2D thinking about if he had imagined it, but as soon as he listens to the younger’s suggestion, his expression changes and after taking another drag he responds.

"No, no. I'm fine here. You go if you want" Murdoc pats him on the shoulder, but 2D is a stubborn son of...

"Come on, there must still be pizza in the fridge..." 2D persuades, grabbing his wrist and walking towards the entrance of the house, and at that the bass player tries to get away.

"Oi, no!" He makes a sharp pull that gets the singer to release him, but then he does not know if the pull or 2D's face hurts more when he turns to see him.

"Ok Mudz," says the boy, Murdoc will never stop seeing him as such, he realizes. As if they were still in old Kong. "I'll go".

2D stays until he nods, and turns to go inside the warm interior of the house.

Murdoc should be with them, he would like to but ... he still hasn't allowed himself to forget what he'd done to them.

He thinks about 2D's question before.

"Do you ever regret it?"

All the time.

He stays outside, in the cold, that he thinks is a representation of his whole being, since he was a child he has been cold, Sebastian never took good care of them, they had a house, yes, but this fell from dirt and debris, they had no food, the money was spent by his father on drugs and alcohol and Murdoc could not even protect himself from the cold that always entered through the window of his room.

And he realizes that he has become like his dad.

The front door opens and the sound frightens him a bit, loud noises always remind him of the old Niccals home despite all these years, causing Murdoc to drop the cigarette in the snow and it instantly goes out.

“Russel told me that if you were going to be here outside the path of a jacket, but all the ones you have in your room are made of leather and I don't think they are very good at working against the cold Murdoc…”

2D begins to ramble on and Murdoc no longer hears what he's saying why he suddenly feels warm, and not just because of the jacket the singer puts on his shoulders and smells like butter sugar candy.

“... so you can have mine”.

Unconsciously he smells 2D’s scent that now surrounds him, completely changing his, which he had inadvertently tried to replicate from his father.

2D fixes the jacket and smiles when Murdoc decides to put it on precisely.

“Shut up”.

2D's smile widens.

“I didn’t say anything”

Murdoc is surprised when 2D helps him to raise the zipper and looks at the singer, who now is watching him too, but he has to bow his head to do it and despite the calm face of the minor, Murdoc feels anger.

He doesn't like them to see from a higher place than him.

And 2D was that, taller, more handsome, his voice sounded like an angel's, talented, but he was stupid as shit.

Yes, and whose fault is it?

He feels his hands that had been at his side being taken, and 2D rubs them with his own, completely changing his line of thought.

"You're still cold," he says, and Murdoc doesn't process what Stuart wants to do and stops him when he brings his hands together to his mouth to blow warm breath against them.

Murdoc jerks them away, but 2D holds them tight against his so that Murdoc won't do something like... hit him.

"W-what the hell ...?!

“Murdoc …”

2D still doesn't let go of his hands and Murdoc gets tired of fighting, he's old now, too old.

And he's tired, tired of not enjoying himself and always running away from the things that make him feel good.

Of the things that make him feel loved.

2D's hands release his and Murdoc misses the contact immediately.

“How can you be so tender with me when I …”

“I do not know.”

He doesn't know? He doesn’t know?!

“I don't know why I put up with you” although his tone is calm, Murdoc knows that he's half joking half telling the truth.

Murdoc thinks that the minor has reconsidered and thought about how all these years he has made his life impossible, why he is insane, Murdoc is obsessed with him.

Stuart can no longer see Murdoc's face, since at his confession the older man has lowered his head, avoiding his gaze.

He looks ... vulnerable.

Like every night, when Murdoc no longer had to put on a show in front of everyone, he drank all his worries and he was there for him, Murdoc an open book of all bad decisions and violent childhood before him.

Like in Plastic Beach.

Stuart doesn't remember Plastic Beach with much appreciation, but he had seen the real Murdoc there.

He gets closer to the dark-haired man, who keeps his head down, thinking about how brilliant he is, how he used to admire him and although he doesn't really tell him how he feels, his songs are the ones that speak for him.

He has tried to change, but in the meantime he is also moving away from them.

He knows that Murdoc is sick, he is twisted inside, his father and brother may be the cause of that, because he is also afraid of being abandoned.

But they are not like the Niccals.

He will not abandon you.

"You are very complicated for me," he grabs the elder's hips, and Murdoc does not fight when he approaches him slowly. “But I am a renegade when it comes to you”.

Murdoc opens his eyes, remembering the song Stuart is quoting.

He had been in jail when “the now now” ... 2D creation came out, but when he escaped and traveled with them again, the giant screen with his face behind him had stunned him.

“Why do you look so beautiful when you are so sad?”

"Stuart..." Murdoc says with a warning tone, but he has used his real name, the one he always uses when he is serious and neither has he moved away from him or pushed him away.

Then Stuart continues humming the song, but now crouched so that he can whisper it in the brunette's ear and he feels how he shudders to hear his voice so close.

And he knows what his voice produces for Murdoc, he has always been in love with his voice.

When he feels the bassist lay his head on his shoulder, he smiles.

“Stuart, I'm not cold anymore”.

2D laughs, knows what that means and better walks away from him, Murdoc needs his space right now, but maintains a grip on the eldest forearms.

He doesn't know what causes him to say his real name, but he and Murdoc have known each other for years, long before Russel and Noodle.

Murdoc knows him too well and knows what contact is for Stuart.

He is interrupted from staring at the man in front of him when the door opens for the umpteenth time that night and Stu does not miss the way he shudders at the noise.

"If a couple of addicts don't come in, you'll catch a cold and I'm not going to take care of you!" Russel leans out and the two can see Noodle behind him, chuckling and gesturing for them to come in and the drummer wouldn’t get angry at them for staying outside.

Stuart turns his head to look at Murdoc, who is still looking at the door where the others went, but is smiling and his face looks calmer compared to earlier.

But he comes to his senses and when he notices 2D's hands on his forearms and the way he's looking at him, his throat clears.

"L-let's go before he gets all… you know" Murdoc makes some gestures with his hands and Stuart smiles.

Cute. I would never describe a person like Murdoc that way, but when the man grabs part of his sleeve to pull him in, that's what he thinks.

#2doc

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mirthful-sonnet · 3 years

Text

Rise Above the Ashes | Chapter 3

Summary: Jean and Mikasa find a remedy against their nightmares, Armin has an announcement, and despite the political tensions in Paradis the peace negotiations go forward.

Notes: Thanks once again to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading this <3

Warning: None

Ao3

Time was a blur that now consisted of nothing but restlessness and constant visits to the hospital.

That didn’t matter to Mikasa.

A restful sleep was something alien to her. She might as well spend her time beside Jean, trying to make up for yet another failing on her part.

It had all happened too fast, but she knew that the man could have reached her if Jean had not stepped in first. Her thoughts were too muddled, with the quietness of the hospital making the violent scene and Jean’s drug-induced confession echo inside her head.

I think I even loved you. Since we were trainees.

She was aware that he had a crush on her back then, something she had easily ignored. Yet knowing the depth of it and that he possibly still felt the same brought plenty of surprise and confusion.

Did he still feel the same way for her? No, that was impossible, and she could not bring herself to acknowledge it. Even the thought of doing it terrified her. He certainly showed no signs of remembering his words once he woke up again, and she didn’t expect him to. Not when he was still battling between life and death.

She felt a pang in her chest at the thought of death, at the mere idea of Jean dying. He had proved himself stronger and more stubborn than anyone had expected.

The doctor had described his case as nothing short of a miracle, as one of Jean’s lungs had collapsed and he had caught an infection that led to a critical fever. They had inserted a tube into his chest to help drain the excess blood and air caused by the wounds, and this morning they had finally removed it. While there was still pain, he was alive and that’s what mattered.

During the entire treatment, Mikasa remained by his side.

Jean constantly told her to go home and rest, but she rarely listened, opting to watch over him when Jean’s mother wasn’t around. She took a break from her volunteering at the orphanage and her work passing down messages to the queen. The rest of the group continued their negotiations while she and Mrs. Kirschtein watched over Jean.

Meeting Jean’s mother had brought her an unexpected sense of inner peace, her warm and caring personality making it easier to confront the guilt and uncertainty that plagued her. It took every ounce of composure to keep her from breaking down and falling on her knees with apologies when she met Mrs. Kirschtein.

The woman had smiled kindly at her, saying that she was happy that Jean had a friend looking after him so thoroughly. The reassurance in her hazel eyes was more than enough to make her feel better. It came unbidden, but she couldn’t help but be reminded of her own mother. The light that had been cruelly snuffed out of her life when her age could still be counted with her fingers.

While she felt a strange ache when watching them, she also liked to see Mrs.Kirschtein still fuss around her son, who could only roll his eyes while hiding a smile, clearly glad to have her present.

She immediately admired the lady, who put on a brave face despite the terror that had almost taken her son away from her. Mikasa had unintentionally witnessed her in such a vulnerable state during the early stages of Jean’s recovery that she had felt like an intruder.

It hadn’t been long since Jean’s mother arrived, having immediately taken the first train that was available to come to the capital with nothing but her garments and a broken heart. Mikasa had just returned but stopped when she saw her beside Jean’s unconscious form through the gap of the room’s door, fitting woolen socks over his limp feet as her only son battled for his life.

“Remember that time you fell down while playing with the neighborhood kids? I held you tight and you kept complaining about how you would be able to learn to take care of me if I kept fussing around you as if you were a baby.” She had said as she fit the blankets around his shivering form, a slight tremor in her voice as if she was trying not to cry. “You were always such a sweet child. Now look at you, a grown man but still getting into trouble. It won’t matter how older you get, because mom will always be here to take care of you.” Mikasa strained to look at the woman’s slouched shape, now crying freely. “Because you are still my little boy, my sun, and my sweet child.”

Mikasa realized then that there were tears streaming down her own cheeks as she watched the grieving mother. With one last glance, she had decided to leave them alone.

Now she was back in front of his room, holding a bag full of extra blankets and a packaged meal. At the same time, Mrs. Kirschtein opened the door to exit, startled at seeing Mikasa.

“Mikasa!” She exclaimed. “How lovely to see you! Although I thought you were back at your house resting.”

Mikasa shook her head, not wanting to explain that she barely got any rest as her sleep was filled with nightmares of blood and unforgiving steel.

“I slept for a good enough time,” she lied, “I figured I could bring more stuff for him. It’s the least I can do.”

The woman’s hazel gaze was gentle, reaching out to grasp her free hand. “My dear, there’s nothing more you could possibly do for my son. You have rarely left his side! Please don’t strain yourself so much, now I’ll have to fret over you too.”

Mikasa could only smile, squeezing back her hand. The bittersweet ache came back as she remembered her mother again, and she wondered if Jean had the same kind of memories with his mom when he was a child. Did she hold him when he had nightmares? Did she sing to the scars on his knees when he fell?

“My son still likes to act all haughty sometimes, but he cares so much. And he is worried for you. We both are.” The older woman added, looking genuinely concerned as she took in Mikasa’s weary appearance.

Mikasa knew the circles under her eyes must have given her away. “I know, Mrs. Kirschtein. I’m just…I care for him too. And this is the least I could do for all the trouble he put himself in for me.”

Her voice had come out weak, as she remembered that this wasn’t the first time Jean had saved her. Mrs. Kirschtein looked at her in disapproval. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, sweet girl. My son told me what you did to that horrible man who hurt him, and I couldn’t thank you enough for protecting him. I have only known you for a few weeks, but I have come to think of you as my daughter. That’s why I’m asking you to take it easy and allow yourself to rest and not worry. If not for Jean, then do it for me.”

Something jolted in her suddenly and she surged forward to hug the older woman tightly, with tears gathered in her eyes and a lump in her throat. She was mildly embarrassed, but the woman’s motherly affection had touched a part of her that had been hollow since she was that wide-eyed child living in the mountains. The older woman had stiffened momentarily at Mikasa’s unexpected reaction, but after a moment she hugged her back just as tightly, happy to offer the girl even just a little bit of comfort.

***

Jean’s coughs echoed along the hallway as he stopped to catch his breath.

“I don’t think this was a good idea,” Mikasa said, her hold on Jean’s hand faltering. He was already recovered enough to walk, but he still had to strain sometimes to breathe properly.

“Hah, don’t worry about this,” Jean managed to get out as he got his breath back and continued walking while holding onto Mikasa.

“If I spent any more time cooped up in that room, I would have jumped out from the window already. Then we would all be having regrets,” he added, his steps somewhat clumsy but still steady.

The hallway was dead silent, with bluish moonbeams filtering through the windows. The only sounds were those of their steps. Jean had wanted to take a walk since he felt suffocated in his room, and Mikasa insisted on walking with him.

“Stop being morbid,” Mikasa chided him.

Jean snorted; his breath was still strained. “It comes naturally these days.”

Mikasa looked at him, taking in the weariness permeating the smile on his face. A walking contradiction. There was still no sign of him remembering what he had said weeks ago in his delirious state. She suddenly gripped his arm tightly without noticing and he turned to her, a questioning look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, his concern evident. It seemed like such a Jean thing to worry over her while he was the one who had been on the brink of death.

“Jean, I…” She trailed off, not really knowing what to say, or how to acknowledge his past confession.

“What is it?” He asked.

Mikasa paused and then just shook her head, afraid that she would say the wrong thing. “It’s nothing, I just don’t want you to joke like that.”

Jean gave her a small smile and they continued walking. It felt odd to be able to walk like this again, even if his steps were awkward. His days had been filled with medications and therapy, visits from his friends, and the usual nightmares that were forgotten once he woke up and saw that Mikasa was still by his side.

The visits brought him great comfort, whether it was Connie bringing him books to read, Armin suddenly opening a chessboard mid-conversation, Reiner reading letters from Falco and Gabi aloud, Pieck talking endlessly about new spots she had discovered in town, or Annie sneaking in donuts (her favorite treat) for him to eat.

Right now, he was glad to break from the usual routine even if just for a while, and Mikasa remaining by his side made everything better. He only wished she didn’t feel so guilty or even felt the need to trouble herself so much for him.

Jean almost found their current situation amusing. It seemed that he had spent half of his life wanting Mikasa’s attention while she looked elsewhere, something that he could never resent her for. But now they were here together in the most uncertain of circumstances, caught up in the middle of trying to build a paradise out of a blank canvas.

Armin constantly gave him updates on the progress of the treaty and other legislations that had been approved. Historia also sent him notes notifying him about their progress and wishing him a speedy recovery since she couldn’t come in person. As a monarch, it wasn’t possible, and she had to juggle her favors carefully.

Their efforts had not been interrupted despite the attack, which Jean was immensely relieved about. He knew, however, that they could not let their guard down as it was clear that the hatred from their adversaries would not stop there. His wounded body was now the tangible evidence of that hatred. The culprits were awaiting a trial, and Yeagerist officials had sent a half-hearted apology for what happened.

Bastards.

Now there was an upcoming ceremony for the peace treaty to be signed, which would be highlighted by the first ever air show on the island. A demonstration of peace that also displayed the military and technological advancements that were taking place at a rapid speed in the country.

“Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” Mikasa’s voice interrupted him from his thoughts. She had an unreadable expression on her face.

“Of course, I am. I have gone from breaking a dozen bones to turning into a titan. A knife in my lung is nothing to me.”

Mikasa was quiet for a moment, pondering on his words. “What was it like?”

“Hmm?”

“Turning into a titan. What was that like?” Mikasa asked as they turned in a corner and faced another hallway.

Jean paused for a moment until he finally spoke. “I’m not sure I remember exactly what happened. At one point it was just me and Connie holding onto each other, wondering if what we did was enough. And then…it was just nothingness. Some part of me was alive and conscious, but the rest…well, it was like I had no control over myself. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.”

They kept walking slowly, their shapes casting shadows on the blank walls. At least in those moments that had seemed final he had not been alone. After the rumbling, he always had his friends with him, the terror they had faced linking all of them permanently. But Mikasa had to bear the weight of the aftermath by herself.

“I bet I looked handsome as a titan,” he tried to lighten the mood.

“I don’t remember. I just took off without so much as a goodbye.” Mikasa muttered.

Jean stopped in his tracks, tightening his hold on her hand so she would look at him. “Hey now, what is this? Nobody can blame you for how you reacted after doing what you did. I don’t think I would have even had the strength to keep going, but you did anyway.”

“But I could have-” Mikasa started.

“Stop, you’re here with me now, aren’t you?” He interrupted.

Mikasa wanted to protest again, but something about Jean’s expression made her stay quiet, and she only nodded. Deep down she knew he had a point. Killing Eren had been like tearing out her own limbs, leaving behind an empty shell of a girl, a kite cut off from its string, left to drift aimlessly. But the guilt she felt over leaving her friends behind to face whatever came their way was still there. Even mourning Eren made her feel terrible, as she struggled to reconcile the boy who had saved her with the one who had caused so much destruction and suffering. In a way, being here was a way of atoning for all the time she didn’t spend with the group, who had to face and struggle to fix the outcome of that destruction. But a more selfish part of her just wanted to spend more time near Jean.

“I do think though,” Jean said as they continued walking, “that you would have loved all the places we visited.”

Jean had told her about them, weaving stories about the cherry blossoms of Hizuru, the vast deserts of the Middle Eastern countries, the icy weather of the northern isles, and the active nightlife at Marley’s emerging cities. There was something extraordinary about how humanity was finding a way to rise back up despite the destruction that happened. There was still a long way to go, but little details like the ones he recounted to Mikasa gave him some hope for the future.

Mikasa loved to hear about the different places they visited, inevitably thinking about Eren and Armin’s dreams of going outside the walls. At that point in time, she had never taken much part of their dream, happy to simply watch their enthusiasm about the outside world. But listening to Jean’s stories made her feel as if she were treading through those landscapes herself.

“Maybe I’ll see some of those places eventually,” she said, letting him stretch his arms as he walked, still holding onto her hand.

“If by some chance you find yourself lost in a hellhole like Marley’s capital, I have a spare room in my apartment,” Jean commented, taking another pause to catch his breath before continuing to walk.

Mikasa looked at him. “You’ve told me dozens of stories about your travels, but I haven’t heard much from the place you live in.”

Jean was thoughtful for a moment. “The capital city is a nice place. At least right now it is. When I arrived, it was mostly rubble and shelters for refugees. The summers were infernal too.” He told her. “But I did meet some good people there, and everyone worked hard to preserve what was left and rebuild what was destroyed. Despite everything, I think…that I miss it somehow.”

It was true, he didn’t think that he would ever come to think of Marley as his permanent home, but he had still made some memories there that he held dear. The good times, the bad times, the friends, and the lovers he had there, they were all a part of him too.

Mikasa asked him for more details, and he went on to tell her about all the work they did in the shelters, how he had painted the walls of his apartment when he found them too plain, and the neighbors who introduced him to Marleyan cuisine and the subsequent disaster he had caused trying to cook an octopus. It made Mikasa laugh, picturing a frantic Jean trying not to burn his apartment down.

He also told her about the historical landmarks that survived the rumbling, the capital square that held all the government buildings, the hectic nightlife at the entertainment quarter, and the different dialects and languages he had discovered.

“I was terrible at first,” Jean commented, “I earned a good slap from a girl when I tried speaking to her in her dialect.”

“What did you tell her?” Mikasa asked.

“Something about my privates when I just wanted to ask her name,” Jean replied, his face flushed in embarrassment.

Mikasa stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound ringing through the quiet hallway. His embarrassing memory was forgotten as he took her in, not used to seeing her laughing so freely.

“I’m sorry-” she tried to say between bouts of laughter, failing to control it. “Oh no, that’s terrible but so funny Jean!”

She continued laughing until she finally had some control of herself. Then she looked at him and noticed that he was staring at her with something she could only describe as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mikasa asked between chuckles, her flushed face now matching his despite the darkness of the hallway.

“Oh-um sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen you laugh like that before,” he looked away, flustered. “It’s nice.”

Mikasa felt her cheeks burn more fiercely and she let go of his hand to go near one of the windows in the hallway, calming herself down. She didn’t remember if she ever laughed like that before. Something about Jean made smiling and laughing easy instead of a struggle.

He was standing beside her now, taking in her reddened face and black hair coming loose from her hair tie. Anyone would say she looked disheveled and tired, but he only marveled at how effortlessly beautiful she was even now. He truly was hopeless, wasn’t he?

“I guess it’s new to me too,” she was still not looking at him. “Your tales, they make me happy.”

“I’m glad,” he muttered, turning to look at the outlines of the city buildings. “All these things I’ve been telling you, the places I have seen and the people I have met… they’re all still standing because of you, Mikasa.”

Mikasa immediately shook her head in denial. “No, I-”

“It’s the truth,” he interrupted, unnerved that Mikasa thought so lowly of herself. “The people that have survived and find a reason to smile and hope every day, the way everything is rising back up even better than before, you made it possible.”

She shifted in her feet, slightly flustered at his open praise. It wasn’t just her. All of them had helped stop Eren, she wanted to say. Plus, her friends were the ones who were working tirelessly to bring peace. But she couldn’t deny the comfort she felt from his words, from the anecdotes that proved that not everything was lost.

“Thanks, Jean,” she simply said, now thinking of something else she had been meaning to tell him but didn’t know how to.

They remained in comfortable silence, looking at the sleeping city before them. Before Jean could tell her that they had to go back, she finally spoke.

“Jean?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Mikasa murmured, twiddling her thumbs. “Since you’re already set to be discharged and will have to follow up your treatment, I was thinking…why don’t you stay at my house?”

She had said the last words too fast, but Jean’s face made it clear that he understood her.

“What? N-no Mikasa, I can’t,” he stammered while shaking his head, “I’ll be fine in my lodgings, I can take care of myself.”

Mikasa felt her heart sink at his words, but she persisted. “I know you can… but they expect you to follow a strict routine and you’re still struggling to even walk and breathe. You’re going to need someone to help you and the rest of the group won’t be able to be there when you need it. Please, Jean, let me do this for you.”

Jean only shook his head again, even if he knew what she said was true. The group would be at the council every day while Armin gave him time off to fully recover. His mom was set to go back to Trost tomorrow after he had convinced her that he was fine and would be looked after, something that was a partial lie since he didn’t really have anyone but himself. They expected him to follow strict medications which was no problem to him, but he also had to dress and clean his wounds routinely while also having to work and do normal chores.

“Mikasa, I really appreciate it, but I can’t burden you with my condition. I promise that I’ll be fine.” His tone was firm, but the more he denied it the more desperate she became to convince him.

“You’re not a burden Jean. You could never be a burden to me. That’s why I’m asking you to consider it. This isn’t the first time you have put yourself in harm’s way for me. This is…this is the least I can do.”

Jean frowned, a little taken aback that she remembered that he had saved her once before. “What do you mean it’s the least you could do? You have done more than enough for me just by staying by my side. Don’t do this out of pity or just because you feel that you need to compensate me for something. I would take those stabbings a thousand times again if I had to.”

“It’s not out of pity!” Mikasa’s voice was shrill, which neither of them expected, and Jean blanched slightly at her tone. She reached out to grasp his arm and bowed her head, silently apologizing for raising her voice. “I want to help you,” she whispered, “it would mean everything to me if you would let me help you. We agreed that we would always be there for each other, and I meant that. Please let me help you, Jean.”

He exhaled sharply, trying to hold on to even just a sliver of stubbornness, but watching her pleading face made whatever resolve he had finally break.

Jean let out another exhale and finally nodded. “All right…I’ll stay with you, Mikasa.”

The smile that lit up her face made it worth it to him, and whatever protests he still had were quickly forgotten.

“Good, thank you, Jean.” She replied, and he wondered why she was thanking him when she was the one burdening herself for him.

He stepped forward, unable to help himself, and took a stray lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I’ll try to be a good guest.”

“As long as no octopus is involved, I’m not worried.” Mikasa deadpanned.

This time it was his laughter ringing through the hallway.

***

Life as a soldier had taught Jean to get accustomed to every circumstance possible. So, in that way, Jean easily got used to living with Mikasa.

It wasn’t a big house, but it was enough. He had his own room and it was suitable for the work he would continue to do from a distance.

They fall into an easy routine, a small semblance of normality in a pattern filled with triggers and bad dreams.

He wakes up, the tremors of his nightmares still permeating his body as he helps Mikasa prepare coffee and breakfast, never ignorant of the stiffness in her movements during the early hours of the morning as well. No doubt still stunned by her own nightly terrors. But they are grateful that the worst kind of nightmares are kept at bay for now, and their demons lay forgotten when they greet each other and make small talk over their meal.

Mikasa learns just how stubborn Jean can be, as despite his condition he insists on helping her with every chore around the house. She only relents slightly when it comes to cooking, with Jean making savory omelets that she can’t get enough of.

There are times when her curiosity threatens to get the best of her, where she wants to ask him what he meant by his dazed confession, but she stops herself in time. She pushes it into a hidden corner of her mind to avoid breaking this bubble of comfort - this castle in the sky they were building together.

Jean on the other hand learned how fussy she could be, a trait he had somewhat noticed back then with Eren and Armin. But now he finds himself as the target of her attention, and it’s a little overwhelming. Amid her attention, he also notices how odd she acts around him sometimes-as if she wanted to tell him something but kept herself from doing so. He didn’t want to pressure her into anything, so he doesn’t question her about it. Instead, he is endlessly grateful; for her watchful eyes when he is walking alone, for the snacks she leaves on his desk as he drowns himself in paperwork, and for her presence in general.

“I think Mikasa is looking to replace me as your mother”

Jean grimaced. “Mom, please don’t start.”

“I’m only telling the truth, Jeanbo. She’s been watching over you like a hawk! It’s almost like I’m not needed around here.” His mom said, a teasing undertone in her voice.

“Mikasa has always been protective and she…well she feels guilty over what happened. I don’t know how to make her understand that none of this is her fault.” He sighed; with the book he was reading now forgotten across his lap.

“She’s a caring girl, that one. I am sure she will understand eventually. But for now, just be grateful that you have someone like her in your life, Jeanbo.”

Jean stayed quiet, taking in her words, and then shook his head. “I’ll also be grateful when you stop calling me that and never mention that Mikasa’s my new mom again.”

“You’re right. I think daughter-in-law is more fitting.”

“MOM!”

He was only met with endless laughter.

It was an extraordinary thing, the solace one could find just by having another person close. Mikasa learns it through the easy rhythm they fall into in the kitchen, the little talks over the table, when they relax in the backyard, with their clothes loose due to the summer heat and faces flushed by the sun; through the endless stories he has from his travels, the concentration in his face when he’s sketching, or just the simple knowledge that he is here, living and breathing. Despite the guardedness that he still shows around her, the glimpses that she does get of his mind make her want to see the world through his eyes. She has always said that the world is cruel and beautiful, but when he is here, she can only see beauty.

There’s a glint in his hazel eyes when he tells her about the places they have been to that brings her an odd type of comfort. It’s one of the many quirks and details she notices about him. Their routine makes it impossible not to notice small details about each other.

He notices that she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s embarrassed, she notices how the warm honey hues of his eyes can change color depending on the lighting, he notes the secret dimple on her left cheek if she smiles enough, she sees the way he scratches his ear when thinking hard about something, he’s transfixed by how much her grey eyes remind him of passing clouds, and she discovers that there are more scatterings of freckles and moles on his neck and arms.

This last detail she discovers during the daily procedure of changing his bandages. As former soldiers, they have found themselves in similar situations before. But the horrors of war are not around them anymore; now it’s just the both of them in the quietness of her house.

It takes great patience to convince him to let her help him, his protests that he can do it himself eventually drowned out. But when he bares his chest and the map of scars adorning it, she sometimes wonders if this was a good idea at all.

“Gruesome, huh?” He tells her one day, avoiding her eyes as his buttoned shirt lays open.

Mikasa snaps out of her stupor, immediately frowning. “Not at all, I’ve seen worse.”

She goes on to remove the bandages, trying not to wince along with him, as if she could feel his pain somehow. The sighs that escape him as she cleans and rubs the ointment on his wounds make the hairs at the back of her neck rise. There is an inevitable shyness when she sees the toned muscles of his chest and abs, when she visually traces the constellations of freckles and moles that dot the planes of smooth skin, when she sees the beauty that lays under the vestiges of war.

“Will I live to see my grandchildren, Nurse Ackerman?” Jean teases as she finishes up the task.

“Only if you behave, Mr. Kirschtein.” She teases back, pressing down the last new bandage, right over his heart.

Yes, she could get used to this.

It is easy and comforting, their new routine. They fall into it so naturally that they can almost ignore the cracks in the picture.

Almost.

Perhaps they were too hopeful or too confident that they wouldn’t have to hear each other’s night terrors, but that illusion breaks one night in which Mikasa’s screams fill the house.

Jean sat upright in his bed, having just woken up from his own nightmares, with every scream sending a dreadful shiver down his spine.

Nightmares were his nightly companions, and he and all his friends had become quite familiar with each other’s screams. The thought that Mikasa had to go through her nightmares alone pained him. The screams continued until he could not stand it anymore and walked out despite the tremors that were still shaking his body, reaching her room in no time. Her hands were tearing at her hair, and she was screaming Eren’s name in one instance while in another she was wailing for her mother and father.

“Mikasa, wake up!” He held both of her hands tightly while she still trashed around. After a while, her screams had been reduced to small, broken whimpers. Under his tight hold she opened her eyes abruptly - her confusion clear amongst endless tears, and she suddenly grabbed Jean forcefully by his neckline as if he were a stranger.

“It’s me Mikasa, it’s me.” Jean whispered shakily, an unbearable tension passing between them before he slowly pries her hands off him.

“Jean?” Mikasa croaked, her voice hoarse from her screams. “I’m s-I’m so sorry, Jean.”

She could barely finish her sentence before she started sobbing, loud and broken. He remained rooted in his spot, at a loss on what to do and trying to ignore his own tremors, watching the woman he loved and the former soldier he had admired for so long cry her heart out, now listening instead to the cries of a little girl still calling for her parents.

He snapped out of his daze when she grasped at his shirt as if he were a lifeline in a sea of tears. When she turned to look at him, he wondered if it was possible to have your heart torn in two just over looking at another person’s face. She looked so broken that he wanted to somehow gather her inside his heart and let her remain there for as long as she wanted.

“Wh…w…” She tried to make out amongst her whimpers.

“Easy, easy, you’re okay now,” Jean told her gently, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “What were you trying to say?”

“Why…why does it hurt so much?” She fixed him with her swollen eyes, “Why does it still hurt?”

He wished he had an answer to that. Even after all these years, he didn’t think the pain would ever really stop. So, he thinks he owes it to her to be honest.

“I don’t know, Mikasa.” He said, his voice breaking a little.

She pressed her forehead to his chest, still crying. He takes that as a cue and gently pulls her to him, an embrace that she quickly returns in such a way that they don’t know who is comforting who.

He thinks they must have remained like that for a good while, with him rocking her gently in his arms like a child while she grasped his lower back, trying to stop the tremors that were still shaking him.

The whimpers quiet down, and the tension in her body loosens, so he laid her down on the bed and waited for her to fall asleep. He made shushing noises while stroking her hand, noticing the signs of exhaustion taking over. She is looking at him with a dazed expression before tightening her hold on him.

“Jean?”

“What is it?”

“Can you stay with me?” She asks, her voice sleepy.

In any other occasion, he would have promptly denied her, deeming it too improper. But watching that look on her face and remembering the terrors that would still await him back in his room made him lose all sense.

Just one night. At least just one.

He gulped and nodded, moving to climb in and get under the covers. The immediate warmth that they feel is overwhelming, and they scramble to get closer as if each other’s touch will be enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

She listened to his heartbeat, its steady pulse lulling her to sleep. His tremors died down under the gentle press of her hand, and he followed her into slumber soon after.

They have their first sleep without nightmares in years.

The moment when she wakes up in the morning is less peaceful in a way. Mikasa shoots up in her bed, feeling an onslaught of confusion and mortification when she remembered what happened.

Jean is fast asleep, his face relaxed and somehow younger, with his arm thrown over her lap. That usual subtle guardedness that he shows now completely shed.

The sight makes her heart hammer wildly and a strange warmth spreads in her chest. Before she can dwell on it or on how much she actually liked having him pressed against her, she bolts out of her room.

She doesn’t really know where she is going but she knows she must get out of there. The cold morning air greets her as she runs out of the house, running and running until she stops, gasping for breath and resting her hands on her knees.

Mist is rolling on the gravel road, revealing the scattered houses of the village in all their simpleness. She lets the coldness settle in, obliterating the heat that had overtaken her.

This was completely unexpected, and she knew it made no sense for her to react this way when she had been the one to coax him into her bed. Yet, she also knows there’s only so much sense you can have after nightmares like theirs. It was expected that they would eventually give in to that urgency, that need to cling to each other.

A flock of birds snaps her out of her thoughts, the group flying and dipping by her house before disappearing into the nearby woodland. Soon the whole village would be waking up, and she couldn’t stay here only wearing her nightshift. She wraps her arms around herself - a futile attempt to warm herself against the cold morning air and makes her way back to the house.

The smell of coffee invades her senses when she steps in, and she sees him in the kitchen, already pouring coffee into two cups.

There’s a hint of relief in his face when he notices her, and she swallows down whatever embarrassment she still feels and greets him as usual.

He greets her back, going on to ask her what they should make for breakfast. In that way, their shyness lays forgotten and what happened earlier remains unspoken.

Their routine for the day remains as usual, and the end of their errands sees them relaxing in her backyard like always, lazily talking about nothing and everything.

When night falls, they’re ready to face whatever horrors await them in their sleep again.

This time, Mikasa is in what appears to be a forest, and it doesn’t take long before she notices that Eren is walking ahead of her. She tries to reach him, but he only drifts away further, occasionally looking back at her, green eyes glinting as if he’s playing a game with her.

The further he gets, the more desperate she becomes. She calls his name, but he gets even further away from her. Always far away, always unreachable.

Soon the woodland disappears, and a steep precipice appears ahead, but Eren doesn’t stop walking. She feels as if her feet are shackled while trying to reach him, and she cries out his name brokenly as he plunges down the precipice and disappears.

Instead of screams, she wakes up with cold shivers and a lump in her throat. Her body is pulled taut like a bowstring as she struggles to gain her breath back, trying to blink away her tears. Her only company was the shadows cast upon her room.

But she then remembered that she wasn’t alone, not exactly. In another corner of her house, Jean was slumbering, probably fighting off his nightly terrors as well. It was a never-ending cycle, and yet she can’t pretend to not remember the remedy they had found against their demons: each other.

Mikasa had always put on a hard front to everybody, but she is tired, so very tired; she doesn’t want to hide or even think logically anymore. And so, ignoring all sense she stands up and makes her way to his room, her steps only a whisper against the wooden floor.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when she saw him sitting up in his bed already, though he didn’t seem to have noticed her, looking disconcerted. In the dim light, she can see that he is paler than usual and that his eyes are wide with unshed tears. He seems to finally recognize her as she reaches for him and gently wipes away the moisture that was beginning to spill down his cheeks.

There is an unfathomable look on his face as she soothes him, and when she asks a silent question with her own red-rimmed gaze, he pauses and then moves to open the covers for her.

She doesn’t hesitate to climb in.

***

There was childish laughter coming from the large yard.

It was a comforting sight, watching the children of the orphanage go about their day, playing their little games.

Jean could barely remember the time when he was that carefree and innocent, he pondered as he walked with Armin around the establishment.

“Until wintertime then?” He asked, not knowing how to take the information.

“That’s what I’ve been told. They will pick delegates to go to each of the allied nations. Whoever remains here is still unclear.” Armin said as he walked, looking at Jean’s tired expression and keeping a close watch on Jean’s steps as he balanced himself on a cane. He rarely used it but since he had insisted that he was ready to attend meetings he started bringing it with him, the constant walking and touring taking its toll on his body.

It had been common knowledge that they would need representatives in every nation, but the fact that there was already an established time for him to possibly leave Paradis took him by surprise. There were still months left for winter, and he still hadn’t made up his mind on whether he wanted to stay or leave.

They stopped in a far corner, with Jean leaning against the wooden fence, recalling a distant memory of when he was younger and stood here with his friends. In the distance, they noticed Mikasa walking in the grassy area, inspecting a group of kids who were playing on some swing sets. She noticed both of her friends watching and they waved at each other before she focused back on the children.

“She’s been quite active here,” Armin observed.

“And yet she still feels guilty for some reason,” Jean said, fishing around his pockets until he found what he was looking for.

Armin narrowed his eyes as he watched Jean lighting up a cigarette. His friend noticed him and groaned. “What? I’ve had to deal with Mikasa scolding me already, you’re going to lecture me as well?”

“You’re still recovering from a punctured lung, Jean.”

“I’ve dealt with worse things,” Jean mumbled, exhaling puffs of smoke. He knew his friends were right, but he couldn’t help it.

He sighed and took another drag. “So, tell me about this airshow, will you? What exactly are they planning?”

“I don’t have anything to do with it, but every delegation is expected to attend of course. The Yeagerists have made sure to spend every penny on the ceremony.” Armin said as he also leaned back against the fence.

Jean snorted. “This whole thing feels like a circus, it won’t be long before they go back on their word, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps, but in the meantime, we do what we can, and what we must. Even the Yeagerists know that we have to depend on each other. Right now, we focus on peace.”

Paradis too was struggling to rise back up, with its damaged borders and the destruction of the ecosystems around the world leading to severe droughts, forest fires, and famine. If the rumbling had gone any further, there was no chance they would have survived. Currently, every country was struggling with the reforestation of their lands and developing new technologies to battle the climate crisis. The treaty would be a milestone in that direction.

“Peace is only relative,” Jean remarked.

“Of course, but we must leverage that peace, be it relative or not. I will always condemn what Eren did, but I think he would want us to take advantage of whatever chances we can take.”

“It’s not like he left us much choice,” Jean spat, and then gave a tired sigh. “But whatever is best for us, I will vouch for that and support you along the way.”

“I know you will,” Armin said, bumping Jean’s shoulder and taking in the circles under his eyes. “I don’t want you to strain yourself too much though. If you can’t attend the ceremony, I will excuse you.”

Jean shook his head, exhaling another puff of smoke. “I will be there. I won’t give those assholes the pleasure of not attending.”

Armin hummed in response. “I hear that there are many other events planned beside the ceremony for the treaty. There are rumors that sweet Vera is coming here to perform.”

Jean looked elsewhere. “I heard that as well.”

Vera was a Marleyan singer and actress who quickly rose in fame all over the continent. Her advocate work with the Alliance was well documented, as she used her cultural influence to help gather supporters and fund numerous causes. Just as her charity work was well known, so was her affair with Ambassador Kirschtein.

He had been assigned to escort her to performances and public speeches linked to their cause. One thing led to another, and it was only a matter of time before they ended up tangled between the sheets. The prospect of seeing her made him feel strange but also happy, as despite their casual flings she had also been a good friend.

“Seem like Paradis is ready to deal with the outside world, and not just through treaties,” Armin remarked.

“Oh, they’ll love her for sure, she stole hearts whenever she went,” Jean said while taking another drag.

“Did she steal yours?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “No one stole anything, she and I made our boundaries clear before we started sleeping together. It was the same for all the other women I’ve been with. They took what they wanted, and I took what I wanted.”

“You think you will ever settle down?” Armin asked.

“I don’t know…especially not after…” Jean stopped himself. “Ah, never mind.”

“I’m all ears,” Armin said, looking at him expectantly.

Jean remained quiet for such a long time that Armin thought he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“I’m in love with Mikasa,” Jean finally admitted, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Armin replied, looking at him sympathetically. “Have you tried telling her?”

“What? No, I’ll never tell her,” Jean said, dropping the cigarette and crushing it. “She doesn’t see me that way and I respect that. I’m happy as her friend.”

“You don’t believe that.” Armin had an eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, but I do, the time I’ve spent with her… it has kept me sane in a way,” Jean told him, then shaking his head. “I’m so in love with her it feels ridiculous. I can’t even think about settling down with anyone else even if I know I have no chance with her.”

“Why do you think that? You claim to respect her, but are you really doing that when you don’t even bother to know what she thinks?”

Jean scoffed. “I don’t need to ‘bother’ because I already know what she thinks. Her heart belongs to Eren, that’s a simple fact.”

It was Armin’s turn to scoff. “Eren is dead, Jean. She killed him if I may remind you, and she has always been a full, stronghearted person outside of him. You may love and cherish a memory, but there’s only so much love you can give to a dead man.”

Jean could only look away, staying quiet. Armin followed his tired gaze and found unsurprisingly fixed on Mikasa, who was now spinning a little girl in her arms.

“You may not believe me, but I’ve never seen her this relaxed and happy, not even when we were children.”

“I want her to be happy. That’s all I want.”

“Well, she looks happier than ever to me, and it’s because of you.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Jean rolled his eyes.

“I’m not trying to make you laugh, it’s just the truth. Take it from someone who practically grew up with her.” Armin insisted. “Besides, I don’t think I could make you laugh with that weary expression you’ve had all day. Have you even slept lately?”

“Mikasa kept me up last night,” Jean replied, before realizing what he said.

Armin looked embarrassed. “She…kept you up, huh?”

“Not that way I- for goodness’ sake, Armin! I would never take advantage of her like that!” Jean exclaimed, blushing furiously while Armin smirked.

“Care to explain then?”

“We…ah, we’re sharing a bed, it helps with our nightmares,” Jean explained, avoiding Armin’s curious look. “It’s just sleeping I swear, somehow…somehow it makes it easier.”

Armin nodded in understanding, thinking of the solace he and Annie had found with each other in a similar way, though it was also different since their ritual had quickly taken a much more physical level.

“You don’t have to reassure me of anything, whatever you guys do is none of my business,” Armin said. “And I know you would never take advantage of her.”

Jean said nothing, still looking at Mikasa in the distance.

“But I insist that you must be honest with her.”

“I don’t think so, Armin. Let’s leave it at that.” Jean tried to end the subject.

“I never took you for being such a pessimist. I thought you wanted to be with her since we were Scouts.”

“Even back then I was aware that there was no chance she would ever return my feelings. So, I kept my distance and ignored it. And I-well… I turned to other girls.”

Jean looked embarrassed but Armin nodded in understanding, remembering the times when Jean and Connie would come in late from having explored whatever town they were stationed in and all it had to offer. Their time in Marley had been similar in that regard, with Reiner occasionally taking part in their escapades.

“In that way, I thought I was over her for a long time. It was easy to get distracted by constant missions, carousing, and sex. I should have known my feelings would only come back stronger once I saw her again.” Jean continued, still looking ashamed. “I have accepted that I’m in love with her, but I have also accepted that I’m just her friend, and I’m happy to be that. Being by her side, that is more than enough for me.”

Armin looked at Jean and saw that he truly meant his words. While he felt bad for his friend, he also couldn’t help his frustration at his resignation.

“You make everything sound so hopeless.” The blond complained, leaning further into the fence.

Jean smiled sadly. “I am utterly hopeless when it comes to her,” he said, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”

“You don’t have to get over it, you can simply love unapologetically. This world…us and our friends, we have seen too much misery. We owe it to ourselves to try and get some happiness, don’t we?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible… dreams, settling down, having a family, is it all worth it when we don’t know if this so-called peace will even last?”

Armin fixed him with his gaze. “It is worth it every bit,” he affirmed. “I have to believe that because…well, I want to tell you something.”

Jean looked at him curiously as Armin fidgeted with his hands. “I uh…I am planning to propose to Annie.”

A small silence passed between them before Jean’s face broke into pure happiness despite his tiredness.

“That’s-that’s amazing, Armin! I’m proud of you.” Jean said gleefully as he stepped forward to hug his friend tightly and pat his back.

“Hey! I haven’t even asked her yet and we don’t know if she’ll say yes!” Armin laughed, still hugging Jean back.

“Of course, she’ll say yes you idiot,” Jean said. “She looks at you as if the sun shines out of your ass.”

They both laughed before separating, still holding onto each other’s arms. “I don’t know how any of this works, but would you be my best man?”

Jean was already nodding before Armin finished his sentence. “Of course, of course, I’ll do it.”

“Good, because I have no idea what to do after I ask her.”

“And you think I do?” Jean countered, and they both laughed out loud again before continuing their walk, feeling much more at ease than before and enjoying the light breeze. There was still a lot of apprehension clouding Jean’s mind, but for now, he was glad that his friend wanted to take his chance at happiness. A glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty. For now, he could be happy about that.

***

The planes were flying at a safe distance, yet it felt as if they could graze the onlookers in a heartbeat. There was a cacophony of cheers, music, chatter, and roars from the planes that were flying overhead.

It seemed surreal that this was happening. It was almost as if all the hatred and tension that their visit had brought was broken, now replaced by celebration and merriment. The cheers came and went the same way the steel birds flew and dipped across the blue sky.

Jean had stood on the stage at the town square some hours ago, tall and defiant despite the scars he bore underneath his formal clothing and the cane that signified his survival.

His presence had given everyone much to talk about, some in puzzlement and others in admiration. He gave a speech with no problem and made sure to look at every Yeagerist official directly in the eye as they shook hands, silently telling them that this was his home.

Now he stood at the edges of the city that overlooked an extensive lake, watching with the members of the delegation as planes flew in unpredictable ways overhead, a sign of progress and more things to come.

He leaned against the railing, looking at the other delegations on the lower levels. Standing amongst the Hizurian delegation was Mikasa, who was also focused on the aerial spectacle while exchanging words with Kiyomi. Even with her small height the Hizurian diplomat still had an imposing presence whenever she went.

Almost as if Mikasa had felt the weight of his stare, she suddenly turned her head and found his gaze. Normally he would have been flustered but watching the smile that she gave him made him feel calm even in the middle of all the excitement that was happening around them. He smiled back before Kiyomi got her attention again and he turned back to the planes.

The sight of the planes flying and turning across the sky made him feel a small ache as he remembered Hange. He was sure the late commander would have loved this. Her excitement over all things unknown had left a huge gap amongst the former soldiers. Now all they could do was continue their endeavors for peace, just as she would have wanted.

He was hit by a barrage of memories as he watched, also wondering how Levi was faring while also finding reassurance in knowing that he was in good company and getting the rest he deserved. But just as he remembered past recollections, a small hidden memory surged up to the surface of his mind, now clear and prominent.

I liked you Mikasa, you know? I think I even loved you, since we were trainees.

No, it couldn’t be.

I wish he was here, I wish I could bring him back. I’m sorry I can’t do anything, I’m so sorry Mikasa…

The strange behavior Mikasa sometimes showed around him now made sense, and Jean suddenly felt as if he were about to vomit, his face blanching.

He had resolved to be Mikasa’s friend and not make things strange between them. But he had failed with flying colors.

With one last glance at Mikasa- who was still engaged in conversation, he backed away and left the compound, ignoring the questioning stares from his friends.

He walked as fast as he could even in his delicate state, immune to the fanfare around him and feeling absolutely mortified.

Way to go, dumbass.

#jeankasa #snk #attack on titan #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #hope all the tags work this time

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

Text

No Future (unedited)

Tw: Breakup, depression

Vent fic

——

What was he to expect? He knew from the start it’d fall apart. Crumble and wilt away, not giving them nearly enough time to bask in each other’s love and warmth. No...there would never be enough time. It was all just faded memories, moments once filled with an untamed happiness turning sour in his mouth, his throat soar as the screams he wanted to let out where trapped. He was trapped. Trapped in his own mind as a pile of regret sat along his once confident shoulders. His burning eyes becoming dark, desperate to hide whatever painful memory had come to mind.

They were fresh. New. The moment he found out he was a Harbinger though it was too late. He was already so deeply in love it filled his lungs, drowning him, grasping at his heart strings and violently pulling him down deeper and deeper. He shouldn’t have said anything. He shouldn’t have asked him to be his partner that night. Maybe they were just high off of Valentines day. High off of the floating, elated feeling of finally being loved by someone. Trusted by someone. Just reminiscing was enough to make his eyes burn. He didn’t want to remember. He never wanted to remember...but it felt like he didn’t have a choice.

They flooded him, swallowing him whole as he gasped for whatever remaining air was left. He felt weak. He should have done more. Why didn’t he do more? Childe could be suffering even more now. Suffering without his aid. This idea alone was enough to cause many sleepless nights filled with anxiety. The suffocating feeling of loneliness returning to its perch overhead. They never had enough time.

His memories were vivid. Vivid and gut wrenching. It made his fingers twitch and his work take up his desk space. He couldn’t distract himself anymore...at least not for awhile. No matter what he did or where he went, there’s was always that faint memory of him haunting him. Even on his darkest evenings, he’d go to his closet and grab the maroon shirt that hung idly behind. Burying his nose into the soft fabric his ex lover left behind, tears staining the dark fabric as his scent overwhelmed him, a broken sob breaking his throat.

He should have done more.

A sad smile caressed his features as his grip tightened on the forgotten shirt. He laughed coldly as he remembered his first kiss. Hidden in the restroom of the tavern as Childe looked at him so fondly. A look of pure adoration and love — the look he gave him burned into his memory as he remembered the Harbinger gently rubbing his thumb along his cheek while he held him so closely, the silent fear of letting him go dancing quietly behind his façade. A fear Diluc didn’t notice. A fear Diluc chose not to notice...because he himself feared the same thing.

He remembered the soft kisses they had, they were long and amateur, his heart fluttering like a teenager. He shouldn’t have been so elated. He should have ended it while it was still fresh...but this thought hadn’t come to mind at the time, far too enamored in Tartaglia’s love. His love blinded him.

His body tremors as recalled their first, and last date. The way they held hands. That’s when he got the maroon shirt. It was a birthday gift. That and many other items. But that was something he held onto dearly. Far too scared to let it go, terrified that he’d forget him. Forget what they had. Perhaps a part of him didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t ready too.

He tried to recall their moments together. He remembered the day he was horribly sick. He wore his shirt all day, a heavy, nauseating feeling settling in his throat. He returned to the winery, Adeline aiding him as his workers took care of his work for the day. Childe had written him letters that day while he was out at Liyue, too far from Diluc’s reach. He had sent over music for Diluc to listen too, aiding him in finding sleep before he woke up heaving over a toilet.

After that it felt like things started to go downhill. Diluc sending and receiving letters everyday. Good mornings, afternoons and nights. He was so deeply in love with the harbinger that it became reckless. He listened to his stories. Storied of home and pets...stories of himself. How he had dated another male before the Fatui found out. That should have ended it right there...but he was so determined to make them understand.

Six months. Six months was all he needed. An absurd amount of time that was never achieved. The rest of his memories were blurry, his mind swarmed with that day. He had written and sent several letters to Ajax that day...but it wouldn’t subdue that uneasy feeling that filled the pit of his stomach.

The anxiety he felt that day. All he wanted was for him to be okay. To be alright. He didn’t care if he didn’t love him anymore. All he wanted was for him to be safe. Hours ticked by as he checked in with Adeline over and over, asking about any letters from Ajax and always getting the same answer. No sir.

Every time those words left her lips his heart would ache. Where was Ajax? He negotiated with himself, trying to come up with some logical situation. Perhaps he was just on a mission, or, maybe, Ajax had finally gotten tired of him. Diluc started to shut down. Becoming cold in his words and actions as he worked and worked, anything to push away whatever thought haunted him in the back of his mind.

When Adeline rushed to him with a letter however...and overwhelming sense of relief washed over him, perhaps a little too quickly. When he opened the black envelope, he quickly noticed it was from the Tsarista. He read through it over and over.

Ajax had ran from the Fatui? He was safe but...this woman could have very much so seen every “I love you” that Diluc and Ajax exchanged. Every intimate moment and their private love story was out on display for all of Snezhnaya to see. The red head’s body was numb. This was it. This is where it was to end. Only lasting for three, almost four months. It became apparent to Diluc now. It didn’t matter how long they waited...Ajax would never be able to be with Diluc. It was too dangerous.

Diluc had watched the fire mindlessly, asking Adeline go put any letter from Snezhnaya aside until morning. Even amongst the fire, the book that sat heavy in his palms wasn’t enough to distract him. It would never be enough. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat or focus on the task he had given himself. It was so short lived Diluc couldn’t do anything. He felt helpless.

He wasn’t sure when, but soon enough Lisa, Jean and Kaeya had silently made their way into his winery. They saw the winemaker sitting absentmindedly in the seat wearing a deep maroon shirt as he seemed almost lost in the flames performance. They were silent, the pain Diluc felt seeping just under they’re skin. The Uncrowned King of Mondstadt was happy with the Harbinger. Genuinely happy. He smiled and laughed more when he was with him, far too affectionate for a single person to even recognize that it was in fact Diluc with that Harbinger.

It was late now, midnight, and Diluc had disappeared to do his nightly routines. Lisa, the kindhearted woman she was, searched for him only to hear broken sobs from his bathroom as he sung a Snezhnayan tune through his cries. Deciding to let him have his space, Lisa notified Jean and Kaeya, a look of dismay dancing wearily along their features.

Too engorged in the agony the night had brung, they fell victim to sleep while Diluc grasped at the cold empty spot in his sheets. Where Ajax once laid as he quietly played the tune in his room, silently crying himself to sleep, slipping in and out of what was once peaceful to what was now a pained filled memory.

By morning, Diluc was too scared to leave the comfort of his linens. Too scared that if he left, what was left of Ajax would disappear too quickly. He wasn’t ready to let him go. He wanted to see the world with him. To move far away and own pets together, calling them their children and creating their own family out in the middle of nowhere...but now it was all just a dream too out of reach for Diluc to hold on.

Carefully, Kaeya walked in and held Diluc as he broke down in his arms. He had dealt with this woman that had intentions of hurting Diluc. He had read every note this woman had dare sent to the winery and disposed of them, a brutal back and forth of letters that should have taken days but it all happened within an hour. Diluc wouldn’t leave the bed. He would never have a happy ending...he couldn’t. The archons wouldn’t allow him to have a happy ever after.

Hours ticked by as he hugged Childe’s pillow, resting in his spot on the bed as he stared out the window. There was never enough time. He laughed bitterly at himself, Jean had even warned him this would happen and he made no effort to listen. No effort to put a stop to whatever forbidden love story he had hoped to achieve. Here he was now, lying pathetically in his bed because of this impossible love story.

Night had fallen once more and he had never been happier to get a letter from Ajax. He read it over and over. The Harbingers didn’t care for their little escapade...the Tsarista, however, would take “time” he said. Time. Something unknown to Diluc. There was no such thing as time. He knew if he stayed Ajax would only get hurt. He already suffers so much, Diluc didn’t want to add to that list if it wasn’t necessary.

And so...he wrote his, hopefully, final letter. He told Childe that he believed in him from the start, encouraging him to chase his dreams and to be himself even if others said not to. At that, he wished him the best of luck as he sent the letter, signing it and crying on his front porch.

They didn’t have a happy every after. What they had was no future at all. Their moments trapped behind an hourglass that would flop over and over in their minds. That’s all it was.

No future.

—

I’m sorry if it’s messy and a little ooc. I needed to vent pretty badly and Chiluc is my comfort ship and this situation that I went through is kind of the reason why I ship them at all.

Ah, the art of forbidden love.

#ajax #childe #chiluc #diluc #ragnvindr #romance #diluc ragnvindr #gay #hydro and pyro #angst #breakup #depression #trigger warning #forbidden love #rarepairs #red and blue #water and fire #genshin impact

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sparrowofsong · 4 years

Text

Of Carrots and Cats

Whumptober No. 16 and Alt. 9

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Hallucinations

Memory Loss

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Janus Sanders (Sympathetic)

Summary: After being forgotten and locked away in his empty room for longer than he can remember, Janus has begun to lose his grip on reality. He's also quite hungry.

...You could say he doesn't carrot-all what he gets to eat as long as it's food.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Blood, starvation, self harm, implied abuse, triggered arachnophobia

Note: This takes place in my What a Nightmare! AU. (@what-a-nightmare-ts-au) However, it makes no real reference to the main plot to avoid spoilers (since I still have yet to. y’know. tell it.), so it could also be a standalone fic.

Something orange flashed across Janus's vision. Taken off guard, Janus furrowed his brow in confusion.

Orange? Since when was anything orange in his room?

He turned his head in the direction the thing went, and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

A carrot.

His chest swelled with elation -- or maybe that was hunger. Either way, he couldn't care less what Thomas, and him by extension, thought of carrots. It was food. And it was right there.

As he reached toward it, it started to run off, much to his dismay. "Nnh, nh, no, no, no, stop, come back! Please!" It halted and turned to him at the entrance of its hidey-hole in the wall. (What Janus wouldn't give to be that carrot. The lucky bastard could have a hiding place but not him? Unfair.)

He shook his head and focused on the sheer delight that it was listening to him, then began whispering gently. "Please come back. You're okay. Come on." The carrot didn't move. Wasn't there a sound people made for animals to come to them? He forgot which animals exactly, but there was something, he knew that much.

He absentmindedly clicked his tongue in thought, and realized that it sounded familiar in this context. He clicked his tongue a few more times. The carrot took a few more steps closer. Grinning from ear to ear, he stifled a gleeful giggle. "There you go, bud. That's it. Just a lll... lihh...."

He paused. What was the word again? It felt like it should be easy to remember. Why was he having so much trouble remembering things lately? He was losing track of relative time more and more often. He was forgetting words, simple and complicated ones alike. He was always forgetting his train of thought (not that it was ever important, of course). A while ago, he-- no, it was more recent than "a while," wasn't it? How recent? Was it today, yesterday, a few days ago? How long even was a day these days? Huh. Day was a weird word. It was pronounced like there were two vowel sounds, even though it was treated like it had one. Deh-ee. Dee. Deceit. God, how he hated that word; just the thought of it made him shudder. If only he could forget--

Oh, right, forgetting things. He was thinking about that for some reason. When was he doing that? It must have been a few hours ago. Or a few minutes? Which one was longer, again? He hadn't thought about it in a few years-- weeks-- months-- decades? He couldn't tell you. He didn't exactly have a calendar available to him. But it didn't really matter anyway, did it? After all, time was meaningless in the face of eternity.

As he lay his head down in exhaustion, he spotted something orange out of the corner of his eye.

Orange? Since when was anything orange in his room?

He strained his neck to get a better look without exerting himself too much, and was elated by the sight before him.

A carrot!

Food!!

His eyes widened in excitement. Who cared how gross carrots were? At this point, he'd take anything he could get.

He forced himself vaguely upright once more, preparing to drag himself toward it, and he could almost feel his heart split in two when it ran inside its hidey-hole in the wall. (What Janus wouldn't give to be that carrot. The lucky bastard could have a hiding place but not him? Unfair.)

Knowing all too well he'd never be allowed to reach the wall, he decided to try and coax the carrot out to him instead. Maybe it was like a cat! They had the same letters, after all. Right? Probably. They sounded similar at the very least. He realized he couldn't remember the last time he saw the two written down. Or anything written down, really. When was the last time he read a book? When was--

He noticed a bit of orange peek out of a hole in the wall. Right, the cat! Wait, that was too small for a cat. Unless it was a kitten. Ooh, that sounded closer to the word he was using before, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. There must have been two syllables for sure. What was orange with two syllables and a "cuh" sound at the beginning?

Coral.

Construction.

Traffic cone.

Kayak.

Cantaloupe.

Cantaloupe sounded delicious right about now. Anything did, if he was being honest (like he was supposed to be). Even carrots would be--

Carrot!

Relieved to see that it was still there, he clicked his tongue a few times to coax it out of its hidey-hole. (What Janus wouldn't give to be that carrot. The lucky bastard could have a hiding place but not him? Unfair.)

"Tut, tut, tut, tut, come on out little guy! You're okay!" he whispered. The carrot took a few tentative steps toward him, and Janus was nearly overwhelmed by sheer delight. It was listening to him! Janus couldn't remember the last time something listened to him. "There you go, bud. That's it. Just a little bit cl... c.... more.. here? Nearer!" He mentally congratulated himself for remembering the exact word so quickly. "Come on. You can do it. Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut..."

As agonising a wait as it was, Janus made sure the carrot was a mere few inches away from him before he pounced. To his amazement, it only took one try to snatch it up! Tears of joy began to well in his eyes as he laughed triumphantly.

He did something right!

He succeeded!!

Janus held it closely to his chest for a few moments, savoring this rare victory, before carefully opening his hands a teeny tiny bit to peer inside. His heart dropped when he saw that the carrot was gone. In its place was something black that was rather unpleasantly squirming around. He opened his hands more to get a better look, and noticed first that it was not, in fact, one thing. It was many things. He noticed second exactly what things they were, and had only a moment to register the information before they began escaping his grasp.

He screamed in horror as countless spiders crawled up his arms, down his neck and back, in his hair, through his wounds and into his veins, through his mouth and into his lungs and stomach, through his ears and into his brain. They were biting him, poisoning him, choking him, eating him alive from the inside out and the outside in. They were everywhere.

The welled up tears of joy now fell as tears of anguish. He clawed at his skin to tear them out, but every spider he removed revealed two more in its place, and they seemed more than happy to infest the newly-created wounds as well. He yanked his hair to pull them out of his head, but only succeeded in transferring more from his hands. He hit his head against the floor to knock them back out of his ears, but they only latched more tightly onto his brain. He began hacking violently to clear them from his lungs, but every inhale between coughs drew more in.

There was nothing he could do. He was helpless. As usual.

Couldn't he just have one success? He knew he didn't deserve it, of course, but still, not even one?

It didn't take long for him to lose the little energy he'd spent so long trying to stockpile. Trembling with fear and exhaustion, his breaths unsteady and faltering, he managed to curl into a ball, clutching his head with now golden, bloody hands as though he could somehow protect himself.

What wishful thinking.

...Hopefully it didn’t count as a lie.

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ashes-in-a-jar · 3 years

Text

Tma relisten Episodes 6-10

(Still really long)

Alot of really important details that are going to be very relevant later on. Very facinating how early on you find these out. Relistens are good.

Episode 6 squirm

It's a good thing tma doesn't do much of sexual encounters and their connection to entities. While I'm sure that's a thing that in any realistic universe would exist avoiding it was a good choice. This statement was *shudder*

Interesting that she had no visible mark on her. Also being repulsed by police stations because the sectioned officers could have helped.

Naked in the streets after lighting his apartment on fire. What an image.

So technically the worms were in the archives 3 times: when Jane made her first statement, when Timothy hodge made his and when Jane attacked. The worms are very familiar with the magnus institute.

"This story is concerning. Not because of Mr. Hodge’s experience, although I’m sure it was very upsetting." ace Jon talking very technical about "experiences"

" though obviously it’s a tragic loss of life, etcetera, etcetera." Jon being Jon.

Ecdc are aware of Jane and corruption typical attacks which is off the bat interesting world building.

He's skeptic here because of lack of evidence but does admit the existence of a threat in Jane Prentiss

Also! He knows of her from before probably when he was a researcher. This confused me on first listen because I was trying to remember if she was ever mentioned before this. But she wasn't.

Episode 7 the piper

Wilfred kind of sounds like martin in some way but maybe it's just me assigning poetry to anyone like him.

But he hated apathy which might be very Martin like

Gentle sadness and creeping fear from the music. For violence of war... Is that what it means to immortalize it?

It's really cool that the concept of music in this podcast is associated specifically with war and unwarranted violence. There's a very strong statement in there somewhere that needs to be explored.

God this statement was intense. Lying for such a long time in that trench surrounded by violent death. But what's most interesting is that this statement doesn't feel like a supernatural one and yet... The piper was with Wilfred throughout the various battles and bouts of violence until the moment it was officially over. But in a very subtle way.

The description of the piper is really intense with the 3 faces. I think I missed it the first time but hearing that representation of war and fear is something I'm going to look for in artistic depictions now.

Wait. Who is Joseph Rayner? I know of Maxwell but never heard of Joseph.a victim instead of Wilfred? Collaborator with the Slaughter? Hmmm

I wonder how Accidental it was that the statement from 1922 was filed in the 2000s. Maybe to show that the piper never really leaves and the war never really ends. Ever.

Episode 8 burned out

Wow Hilltop Road already! I forgot how many of the first episodes were so important to the plot later on.

"That side of the road backed onto South Park with fences marking the bottom of each garden." this is wrong btw. Hilltop Road in Oxford does not run along Sount Park but is perpendicular to it, meeting it in the corner with Divinity Road which meets with Morrell Avenue which is the road running along South Park. Just FYI because I had to look this up to get a good picture. But I guess Morrell doesn't sound as exciting as Hilltop (which isn't even at the top of the hill smh)

Ivo lensik describes Raymond fielding as white which makes me automatically think he is not. Just a thought that popped in my mind.

Huh. His family had a history of schizophrenia. And his dad was obsessed with fractals. Being followed by The spiral (all the bones are in his hands) was also part of this story really interesting.

Agnes had mousy brown hair and looked like Raymond! Not red hair ( at least at first) like I pictured. Also she was a hell of a creepy child...

So did he time travel? Seeing the moments of Raymond's end? Seems like time doesn't work right in that place anyway.

Web person being devout church goer is also an interesting touch

Father Edwin Burroughs! I forgot he was here too! The knock reminded me of Mr Spider *shiver*

The priest explaining that the church exorcized demons but what not decisive if ghosts exist was hilarious. Jon dismisses paranormal but asks Martin if he's a ghost is opposite of the church.

Hmmm the web pushing him to cut the tree to uncover box from antique table...

Apple full of spiders ugh. Maybe something web was trapped in there by Desolation and ivo managed free it as Agnes was dying.

"We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree." wow that's an obscure thing to find well done Martin!

Jon still looks for credence for this story despite the schizophrenia that could leave him skeptical.

"while I trust Mr. Lensik’s testimony of his own experiences about as far as I can throw a bleeding tree," again Jon with his special brand of jokes.

Episode 9 a Father's love

The Montauk's story! I always thought their family had one of the most tragic ones. The hunt is a really cruel patron with its forced hunger and having other entities use them as tools.

Julia telling the truth of the story to the Magnus Institute instead of the police is also heartbreaking. How desperate and alone she must have felt drowned in that awful literally unbelievable story. The magnus institute feeds off of those people too.

So many of the hunt end up in police it's just... Such a strong statement against that establishment. What do we do to make that less of a horrible, unjust, all consuming system? That feeds on the hunger of some and the abject fear of others? And it doesn't have to be supernatural. It's interesting how season five, of all seasons, is the one that gave us that perspective. The non supernatural one on the subject while the world itself is so far away from the natural. God everything about this idea is so heavy and painful.

I kind of hate Julia's fate because of her background and how much alot of its beginning was out of her control. It's like Daisy. The hunt can never be forgiven no matter how compulsive it is.

The dark that took her mother turned her into part of it? Like the dark liquid?

A dark room to develop his photos of his victims huh? A play on words here.

Oooh they put a heartbeats in the soundscape really cool actually.

So Montauk killed other dark members that tried to leave? For the ritual? Like Julia's mother?

The hunt compelled him to keep the hearts as trophies? which is very self destructive of the hunt to do. Or is it part of the dark ritual with the sacrifices that the heart had to be kept?

I think Montauk was trying to slow down the ritual as revenge that night, rendering the sacrifices he helped create useless. Which is why pitch came after them that night and dissappeared once Montauk finished his ritual.

Sourcing the Serial killer enthusiast community. Love that the archives use whatever source of info they can access.

So Maxwell dissappeared in 1994 from public eye land yet the cult kept working towards a ritual. But now in secret? Their timeline always confused me.

Episode 10 vampire killer

I never noticed Trevor came right after Julia! Oooh this is so much connecting the dots so early on!

Vampires are so disturbing here makes you ever wonder how the hell media like twilight were ever created. But hehe the monster ****er community has always been a vibrant one. Not these vampires tho.

Trevor is so sassy I love his statements. Like Julia it really makes me sad how consumed he became at the end and how awful his death was. Once again the tragedy of the Hunt.

"I taught myself to read, I read as much on the subject as I could, and it isn’t covered often or clearly in those books I have found." can you imagine what kinds of books he might have found during the sexy vampire Era? This is a hilarious picture to paint.

So vampires feed off of blood and not fear which is an interesting creature to have in this kind of universe. Although hunters are also like that but there is still alot of fear and awareness involved with that while the vampires try to conceal themselves until the last moment.

There's alot of mosquito imagery in these vampires which is... Ugh

Also interesting how many time Trevor just uses the vampire's full name. Never shortened and never talked about in another title. Sylvia McDonald this Sylvia McDonald that. Also the other vampire. They always had a name that was psychicly imposed on the victims to be remembered fully. Very Stranger behavior.

Ahhhh the one vampire weakness... Drrrugs.

It's also very flammable which sets interesting precedence to setting unnatural things on fire to make them disappear.

Alard dupont comes in a later statement right? Yeah in 56

Martin was there when the statement was given which was 2010 and in 2016 he's 29 so he worked there for a while! At least since age 23 perhaps we'll find out even earlier. And he was still scared to be found under qualified after all this time! Oof...

I wonder how draining it is to give a statement that it kills someone who is sick.

The government is in on this! Looking for the teeth Trevor gave the institute... Somehow that strikes me as hilarious in the world building of this podcast. And it really leaves Jon no choice but to concede that there is something to the statement even if he refuses to use the term vampire like Trevor did so freely.

#Pfft i was so into this one i forgot to tag #Tma #jonathan sims #Tma hiatus liveblog #magnuspod #julia montauk #trevor herbert #Jane Prentiss #The magnus archives #hilltop road

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 26]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Let’s do a bit of this. Expect teenage hijinks and stupidity.

Chapter 11

Over the course of the next three days of Virgil’s captivity, Virgil would come to the conclusion that his captors were idiots.

This thought flickered to life once again as Logan leaned into the closet to point out another constellation on the ceiling, tottering unstably on his knees as his weight shifted forward and distracted by his enthusiasm.

They were alone in the prince’s room. Patton had left only a few minutes before to help his mother in the kitchen (less because she needed help and more to not make her suspicious about why he’d spent so much time away in the last few days).

He wouldn’t be back for a while and Virgil had full mobility in the closet. With Logan leaning over the threshold like that, it would be easy to kill him or even just incapacitate him. One rough yank on his arm would have him completely in the closet. Virgil had no question that he could pin him down so he couldn’t activate the restraints, and even if he managed to do so, he’d have been drawn close enough that Virgil could use his legs. He could either force him to take off the cuffs or, since they automatically went to the second setting when he left the closet, just deal with it until he managed to get away.

It would just be so easy. Yet, he did not. He just watched Logan as he leaned stupidly over an assassin while info dumping about stars.

This was the first day that he hadn’t felt at all tired when he’d drank the provided nutrition and healing potion, though it had never affected him quite as much as it had the first day. Logan said that meant that his injuries must be healed. It was a weird feeling. He didn’t remember when the last time was that he wasn’t damaged in some way. Even before his grueling training, there’d always been bullies at the orphanage and he’d been the youngest and smallest in his age group.

He was also more well rested and fed than he had been in as long as he could remember. He felt better then he knew was possible today, and he suspected that he would only feel better after a bit more time under their care.

He told himself that is why he didn’t lash out now. He was waiting until he was as strong as possible to make sure his escape went as well as it could, even if it was a risk. They’d mentioned that the king would be gone for three weeks. After he returned, Virgil would surely be turned over to people much more capable of actually keeping him well trapped and less likely to feed him well, give him a nice place to sleep, and leave him without injury. It was a gamble to stay, because it was possible that he wouldn’t find another opportunity in time and would get handed over to his fate. Really, if he was being reasonable, he should get out now while he felt good and had a secured opportunity.

Still, he did not. He had not any of the times they’d given him the opportunity in the last few days. Logan finished his sentence and leaned back out of the closet to safety. He still was speaking though in that soft happy tone. Logan liked the stars. He liked to talk about the stars, and Virgil found he liked to listen to him. They tended to end up in this position whenever Patton was away, just talking as Virgil laid in his closet.

Eventually, Logan’s latest story tapered out. There was silence then for a few moments. Virgil stared up at the fake stars on the ceiling. The stars that Logan had made for him when he really did not have to. Virgil had not been expecting lights in the closet, let alone ones so beautiful and thoughtful. Not ones with stories behind them. Just days ago, if someone had told Virgil the prince would be keeping him in his closet for the next few weeks, Virgil wouldn’t have expected a blanket let alone all of this.

He turned his head to look at Logan. “What?” Logan asked.

“Your magic’s very beautiful,” Virgil said.

Logan seemed pleased by the complement, lighting up almost as much as the stars he made. “Well, it’s just a basic light spell,” he said, “though I did make some adjustments to them and the dimmer was a bit more difficult. Anyone could do it with practice.”

Virgil shook his head. “They’re special, I think,” he said. “Your magic’s different than most people.”

“How so?” Logan asked curiously.

“It’s gentle,” he said. “Gentle and warm, like eating the warm soup you fed me a couple of days ago.”

“And other people’s magic feels different?” he asked.

Virgil nodded. “I’ve met a lot of magic users, but it always felt bad. Usually it hurts or makes you feel sick or just makes you uncomfortable. Even healing magic always felt like bugs nibbling at my skin, but the potion you’ve been having me drink in the morning feels… safe. It doesn’t hurt or make me want to cry. It’s just good.”

“Magic often has much to do with the caster’s intentions,” Logan said.

“I think you could poison me gently.”

Logan made an odd expression. “That…” he said, nose scrunched. “That is a strange thing to say.”

Virgil cocked his head. “Is it?”

“Yes!” Logan said, shaking his head. “You are far too comfortable with the concept of death for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” Virgil argued. “That’s old enough to be sent on missions without a blood compulsion!”

“…A what?” Logan asked.

“A blood compulsion,” Virgil said. “You know, with a multrum.” Logan was frowning at him. “One works in your gardens and you’re a prince. You had to at least have seen one or two. They take a bit of blood and multrums process it into a little bead. Then you’ve got to do what your told or it hurts a lot.”

“I know what a blood compulsion is,” Logan said. “I am simply wondering who would put one on a fourteen-year-old.”

“They don’t,” Virgil said. “They stop putting them on people when they turn fourteen.”

“And exactly what is the age range for it?” Logan asked. Virgil was almost startled by the way his tone was quickly hardening. He’d never heard him be that harsh even when he’d first woken up in his custody. It made Virgil tense up.

“They take kids usually when they’re about 8 and it’s a year of training before your sent on a mission so 9-13,” he said.

“That’s horrible,” Logan spat so violently that Virgil flinched. Logan didn’t seem to notice. “They force children to kill under a blood compulsion?”

“Well, no one really wants to do it without one when they’re that little. They get scared, and usually try to chicken out so…”

“So, they torture them unless they kill someone.”

“I mean… it’s not. They have to agree to the deal.”

“And if they don’t agree to it?” Logan asked.

Virgil thought back to the second time they’d made him get a blood compulsion. It had been with the multrum before Janus, a girl by the name of Alina. He’d made the mistake of hesitating on his first kill and faced the consequences before finally giving in and doing the job. When the second mission had come around, Virgil hadn’t wanted to accept the blood compulsion.

That had been the first time they’d made him drink a binding potion. Logan seemed to be able to get an idea about it by the look on his face.

“So, your options were to be tortured, be tortured in a different way, or murder someone.” Logan looked at him. “You said your fourteen. Have you ever even killed of your own volition?”

“I… no,” he admitted, but quickly added, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“That explains a lot about your personality and reactions so far.”

Virgil rankled at that for some reason. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Logan just stared at him for a long moment. “What they did, what they are doing isn’t right you know?” he said.

Virgil blinked at him but said nothing. He became more and more uncomfortable in the silence that ensued.

“Would you like to learn more about magic?” he asked. “There are many uses other then to hurt. I can teach you a few basics if you like.”

Virgil was confused about the topic change but was relieved about it. “Uh,” he thought. “Sure. That would be… interesting.”

Logan smiled at him. “I’ll set up something and we can work with it in the next few days. What would you like to learn?”

“Um, I have no idea. What is there?”

Logan considered it for a moment. “We could do a hair color changing potion. Or perhaps a small protection charm or I can teach you to make fire shapes.”

“Protection charm,” Virgil said without hesitation.

Logan gave him a sad smile. “Of course. I’ll start showing you how to make them tomorrow and we can actually make some the next day.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“Would you like to hear more about the stars?” he asked. Virgil nodded. He once again leaned into the closet to point and Virgil once again did not move to attack. Nor did he attack when that afternoon Patton turned his back on Virgil for far too long when they were alone. Nor did he when they settled him to bed once again in the closet. He told himself it was strategic, but he knew it wasn’t.

Chapter 12

Logan had needed to spend some time performing royal duties today which left Patton and Virgil alone after breakfast. Patton had started out trying to teach Virgil different board games. He’d seemed intrigued at first, but after a few games of checkers seemed to grow bored. Patton had gotten a blank stare when he’d asked if Virgil had any ideas about what to do for fun, so now he was trying to figure out something else they could do. He cast his eyes around at what Logan had in his bedroom.

“How about I read you a book?” he suggested.

Virgil seemed very intrigued by that idea. “Sure,” he said.

“Okay!” Patton said cheerfully. “He popped to his feet and glanced through the small shelf of fiction books Logan kept in his room. He decided to choose one of the lighter ones that Logan and he had liked to read when they were younger. “This one is called The Never-ending Garden,” Patton said. “It’s about a group of four children and their adventures in a garden. It’s full of magic and adventure and friendship! Is that alright with you?”

“It sounds good,” Virgil answered.

Patton happily walked back over to sit next to him. “It is!” he said.

First, he showed Virgil the picture on the cover of a wild looking garden with four kids roaming through it. One of the children was in a little red wagon being pulled by another one wearing a fancy hat. One of the others was walking, looking at a map while the last had a wooden sword. After giving Virgil a couple of moments too look at the picture, Patton cracked it open.

“We start with Lydia’s perspective,” Patton said. “She’s one of my favorites!” He pointed to a picture of a girl in a raincoat at the beginning of the chapter and Virgil leaned slightly closer to see. Then, Patton cleared his voice.

“It had been raining that day,” Patton began, “but Lydia had been so bored that she still begged her father to go out and play when the storm lightened into a sprinkle. He made her change from the yellow dress she had been wearing into the one she often used to help him garden because he knew she was certain to get herself muddy. Her younger brother Marcus asked if he could come too and though part of her wanted to say no because she wanted to explore on her own without her baby brother slowing her down, her father had taught her to be a good big sister, so she agreed to let him come.”

Patton watched Virgil out of the corner of his eye as he read about Lydia meeting up with the neighbor boy, Al, and the three children started to explore the garden in Lydia’s backyard. Virgil leaned in slightly to look at the pictures and listen to the story intently as the three children traveled deeper and deeper into the garden, but never made it to the back fence. They’d just made it to the part where they heard rustling behind the blackberry bush which Patton knew was the last main character, Melly, when Patton felt the need to adjust his posture a bit. Virgil moved in kind and ended up leaning further into Patton.

Without even really thinking about it, Patton brought his arm around to touch the top of his head. Virgil flinched the second Patton made content and Patton drew the hand away immediately. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. Patton was a naturally touching person and he’d been having trouble battling his instincts to cuddle everyone and everything while around Virgil, but he knew most touch was not welcome. The poor thing startled every time Patton went to touch him unannounced and even sometimes when he’d said something before doing it.

“I-it’s okay,” Virgil said.

Patton gave him a tight lipped smiled and turned back to the book.

He stilled a second later when Virgil leaned back in and their shoulders brushed. He blinked over at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Do… do you want me to touch your hair?”

Virgil curled up into himself a little bit but then nodded.

“Okay,” Patton said. “I’m going to put my arm around you and do that then, okay?” He drew upon his years and years of convincing easily startled cats to allow him to give them pats as he slowly moved his arm back to where it had been before and gently touched the side of his head. He tensed, but didn’t startle this time, and so Patton gently ran his fingers through the hair a couple of times. Eventually, the tension bled out of him and he sort of slumped against Patton’s shoulder. Patton just barely restrained a coo before going back to reading. He continued to stroke the side of Virgil’s hair as he described the gang meeting up with Melly and them being told she was a fairy that lived in the garden.

He'd only gotten to the part about them finding the wagon when Virgil started to shift a bit uncomfortably, his neck craned in an awkward angle. Patton kept reading as he brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulder and pushed lightly. There was the slightest bit of resistance as Virgil didn’t know what he was trying to do, but then he allowed Patton to move him. Patton leaned back a bit and picked the book up off his lap before continuing to push him down. Virgil did not help at all, seeming confused about what was going on.

Patton had to poke him around until he was on his back laying across Patton’s lap. He grinned down at the boy who was looking at him in blatant bewilderment and propped the book up on his chest. He held it there with one of his hands and stretched the other out to resume messing with his hair. Virgil relaxed into the new position after a few minutes of reading, eyes shutting as he enjoyed the attention. His eyes would flicker open every time Patton moved to show him a picture, but other than that, he seemed content to not move.

Eventually, he stopped responding when Patton moved to show him the pictures.

“Are you asleep?” he asked quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he bookmarked the last picture Virgil had responded to, and then continued reading to himself.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. It was the one he and Logan had decided on to tell the other one that it was just them and not to panic when the door opened. The door opened to Logan a moment later.

He paused, taking in the sight of the assassin sprawled across Patton’s lap like a sleepy kitten. He shook his head fondly and walked over to them on silent feet. He bent and pressed a hand to the top of Virgil’s hand. Virgil stirred just barely, but didn’t open his eyes, pressing into the touch a bit.

Logan smiled. “He wanted to learn how to make protection charms today. I assume you’d like to join us?” Patton perked up and nodded happily, making Logan chuckle softly. “I will go set it up then. Would you like another book for the time being?”

“Just the one I was reading last night would be nice,” Patton said.

“Of course.” Logan stepped away to grab it and handed it to him. Then, he disappeared into his potion’s lab. Patton smiled down at Virgil’s sleeping face and settled the new book onto his chest to replace the children’s book. He didn’t even stir.

Chapter 13

Logan was able to quickly set up the station for making protection charms. Patton had always liked making them, though he often used his more as fun accessories than for protection. The one he was going to show Virgil how to make was a very simple low level one used for little more than to keep bugs off of yourself and, in the event of a well made one, alert one to imminent danger by changing temperature. It was a nice thing to hold in the middle of the night if one was frightened by real or imagined threats. It would be warm to the touch when your environment was safe; he thought Virgil might appreciate it.

He and Patton decided to wait until Virgil woke up naturally which only took about 30 minutes. Then, Logan brought him to his set up supplies. He explained briefly the process for making a protection charm. “I will be the one performing the enchantment for today,” he told Virgil. “I will show you how to make your own later, but I thought seeing how to make them would help with the learning process.”

“Plus, it’s fun!” Patton said.

Logan flashed a smile at him. “And that as well. I’ve prepared a small number of possible pendants for you to choose from. You can choose the shape and color, then we will put on a custom engraving, as well as decorations.”

“Glitter! Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!”

“Yes, Patton, everyone knows you’re going to choose glitter,” Logan said, amused, “but why don’t we let Virgil decide for his own pendant?”

“Fine,” Patton said, “but mine will be glitter.”

Logan grabbed the box of blank pendants and offered it to Virgil. “Choose whichever one feels right,” he suggested. Virgil moved forward and looked over the box. “You can touch them,” Logan said. “In fact, I would suggest it as it is meant to be held when it’s done and you may as well get a feel for it.”

At his prompting, Virgil did. He reached into the box and shifted a few to the side. Eventually, he started picking a few up. “I like the crescent shape for holding the most he said,” holding a blue one up, but I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Patton asked.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled. “I dunno.”

“Well here,” Patton said, reaching for the box. He dug through it and pulled out every single crescent moon shaped pendant and lined them up. “What do you fancy?”

Virgil considered them all for a long moment and then tentatively pointed the purple one out.

“Great!” Patton said. “Then, we’ll use that one.”

Virgil nodded and Patton picked up the pendant to drop it into his hands. His fingers curled over the shape and he seemed satisfied by the choice, so Logan turned to Patton. “Your turn,” he said.

Patton happily grabbed out a heart shaped blue one, but then paused and exchanged it for a purple one. “We match!” he said.

Virgil smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, and Logan dug out a blue crescent moon shape for himself. “Now that you have your base, you get to choose the engraving.” He opened up the instruction book to the correct page and showed it to him.

Virgil looked over the two pages of designs with carful focus. He wavered between the spiral sun and the flames for a moment, but eventually settled on the flames. Patton chose the interlocking hearts design as anticipated; it was his favorite, and Logan chose the spiral sun design for himself.

“Now, I’m going to engrave this design onto yours,” Logan said getting out the thin pen like instrument and dipping it into the slightly glowing bottle of potion he’d set out. “In the meantime, Patton will show you what we have for decorations.”

He was careful to get the symbol as perfect as he could and then started on Patton’s. Patton apparently managed to corrupt the boy because both of them came back with brushes and glitter to add as decoration.

Logan shook his head and handed them their freshly engraved pendants. “Apply the glitter how you like,” Logan said, moving on to his own engraving. Once he was finished, he selected some glow in the dark paint to decorate his own.

Once he’d finished decorating his own pendant, Logan looked up. “Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yep!” Patton said, shoving his pendant at Logan while Virgil nodded. Virgil had been far less enthusiastic than Patton, having carefully brushed glitter into the flame design only whereas Patton had haphazardly covered his own all over with glitter. Logan took both pendants.

“This,” Logan said, bringing over a different potion, “is used to make sure the decorations never fall off. It basically allows the other substances to become a part of the stone. “It isn’t too dangerous, but I’d suggest you stand back for the moment.”

Virgil stepped back farther back than was strictly necessary and gave the potion bottle a wary look. Logan moved all three pendants to the prepared surface (else they ran the risk of also getting stuck to the table) and put on gloves, having learned that magically gluing rocks to ones hands was not fun years ago. Then, he carefully drizzled a bit of the potion onto each rock. The rocks fizzled loudly, and Virgil gave off a startled yelp before toppling over flat on his face with his wrist glued to his sides.

“Oh no, honey,” Patton said immediately crouching next to him. “I’m sorry. We should have warned you about the noise.”

Logan wasn’t sure what type of action he’d tried to take when the sound started up, but whatever it was, it had caused him to move his arms fast enough that he’d activated the binding potion and it snapped his wrists to his side, overbalancing him.

Patton’s hands hovered over the startled boy, but he didn’t touch. After a few moments, it was clear that the magic keeping Virgil’s hands at his side released because his hands slowly crept forward to push himself up, so his face wasn’t planted against the ground. His eyes still looked incredibly startled.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Logan took his words as permission to move without risking startling him more. Virgil’s eyes bopped back and forth between him and Patton a few times as he crossed to his wall of potions and grabbed one.

He also selected a clean cloth from a basket on his way over to them. “A light healing potion,” Logan explained as he knelt in front of Virgil. He uncorked it. “May I?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said with a frown. “I’m not even bleeding. It’s barely anything.”

“Which is why it’s a light healing potion,” Logan said. “You are sure to bruise with the way you hit. This will prevent it and make it stop hurting.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed after a moment. Logan dribbled a bit out onto the rag. After a moment of thought, he touched the damp part of the cloth with his own finger, just to quash any fears that it would harm him.

“It will tingle slightly,” Logan warned. Virgil tilted his face to let him dab it onto his nose and the light scrape on his face. His nose scrunched up and he moved to rub the sensation away quickly only to have his arms slam back to his sides.

Patton caught him so the sudden involuntary movement didn’t cause him to fall back, and then giggled when Virgil titled his head to what could only be described as pout back at him.

“Aw, poor thing,” Patton cooed, reaching forward to rub a hand across the top of his nose and then his forehead where the potion had been applied for him.

“Better?” Patton asked.

“You’re really bad at this being captors thing,” Virgil commenting, willingly leaning back into Patton. Patton just smiled happily.

Logan took the bottle and got to his feet, before returning it, and then glanced at the pendants as Patton helped Virgil to his feet. The pendants had stopped fizzing, so Logan felt okay reaching in and grabbing them all.

He handed both Patton and Virgil their pendants when they walked closer to the table.

“And now for the actual enchantment,” Logan said. “For today, I already prepared the potion up to the last step as it has to sit for a few hours, but I will show you the last step and eventually teach you everything if you are still interested.”

Virgil nodded, but said. “No more noises?”

Logan smiled. “No more noises,” he confirmed. Then he pushed forward all of the ingredients he was about to put in the pot for Virgil to study one by one before putting them each in it in the correct order. Then he demonstrated how to stir it correctly and told him how many times, though he doubted he’d be able to retain all of the information from this one demonstration. “There,” he said, setting down his spoon. “Now we just all put our pendants into the pot, and they should be ready in 25 minutes.”

Logan showed Virgil around his potion’s lab while they waited, explaining what certain pieces of equipment did and a bit about his organization system. Virgil followed him around, looking at the things he pointed out curiously. He, however, got very distracted when Logan showed him one of the experiments he’d concocted. It was a thick liquid that was super attracted to itself and would form a small ball that could be disturbed by touching it. He seemed to like the sensation of squishing it down onto a table… over and over and over again.

“We should get him a ball of yarn,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth. He may have been enjoying watching Virgil play with the substance more than Virgil was enjoying playing with it himself. And that was saying something.

21984

Eventually, however, the pendants were finished, and he dragged Virgil away from his new toy to show him the finished product.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Is it supposed to be warm?” Virgil inquired.

“Yes,” Logan replied. “It’s temperature changes based on if the magic on it senses a threat or not. Warmer temperatures mean you are safe.

“Oh,” Virgil said softly, hand squeezing around it. “I like it.”

Logan found himself smiling. “I’m glad. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“If you would like, I’m sure Patton has some suggestions if you’d desire a way to keep it attached to your person. He in particular likes to make them into necklaces or clip them to his clothing.”

Virgil looked over at Patton and nodded shyly. Patton immediately perked up. “I’ll go get some supplies!” he said.

Chapter 14

“So then,” Patton was saying. “We ran to the stables.”

“We went to gazebo first,” Logan cut in.

“Right, we tried to go to the gazebo first,” Patton corrected, “but Mr. Deknis was over there tending to the tomatoes, and we knew he’d tell Mama the second he saw us. So, then we turned around and went to the stables.”

Virgil tilted his head, listening to the story Patton was telling. Patton was not the best storyteller. He tended to get lost in the middle and embellish, though Logan always corrected him. It was still very entertaining to watch though because he got incredibly animated. He’d even toppled himself over in excitement a couple of times.

Virgil squeezed the small pillow he had in his lap. He… wasn’t 100% sure what was going on. Logan and Patton had settled him on the blanket covered ground near Logan’s bed and proceeded to feed him snacks and talk about a lot of different things. It had started with them talking about what they’d done that day, and when Patton had made reference to something Virgil hadn’t understood, the two of them ended up talking about things from their childhood.

Virgil found himself entranced by their stories about playing in and running around the castle. It was all so different from what Virgil had experienced.

“…but, right as we were about to get to the ladder to climb up into the hay loft, Logan tripped!” Patton said, arms whipping around him. “He fell into a container of grain for the horses and it spilled all over the place. He tried to get up but grabbed the edge of the water trough and apparently it wasn’t very secure because it fell over and soaked him. So, then he was wet and covered in grain. He looked hilarious.”

“I did not!” Logan protested, but it did not sound like all of the other times he’d corrected Patton’s stories that night.

Patton looked over at him. “You did! You woke up the cute stable hand and he laughed himself silly at you, and by the time we got you even partially cleaned up, your dad had already found us. That’s how we got caught.”

“I have no recollection of these events,” Logan clearly lied, his cheeks a bit flushed.

“Liar,” Patton claimed. “You complained about picking grain out of your sheets for weeks.”

“No,” Logan growled.

“Yes! It’s okay. It was a good laugh.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed on him, and he looked pissed, but a second later, his expression lightened up. “You know what else was a ‘good laugh’?” he asked.

#proofread stories #not writing

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merakiaes · 5 years

Text

Worth The Wait - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, John Shelby x reader (platonic)

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This is not proof-read, so sorry in advance for mistakes and weirdly formed sentences. I hope you like it!

Wordcount: 3246

Summary: After your sister Martha’s passing, you’re left with John and the children to pick up the pieces. And although your relationship with John ins purely platonic, Tommy can’t help but be jealous of your relationship.

You were the first out of your sister Martha and yourself to meet the Shelbys.

You were two years older than her, the same age as John, and you and he had been classmates back when you were still in school.

The Shelbys and your family had lived in the same town your whole life, you and John seeing each other in school every day but never really talking. You had only started talking when you were sixteen.

It was around that age him and his older brother Arthur started getting into trouble, always going around the streets and picking fights with people.

Most of the times they deserved it, but still, you weren’t one to just sit back and watch, running in to save the day every time.

The first time it happened, John had been so caught up in punching the other boy that he’d accidentally hit you in the face with his elbow when you had tried to pull him back.

He had stopped only when hearing the sickening crack of your nose, turning back to look at you with wide eyes as Arthur, too, had, finally pulled himself back to reality and was yelling at him to stop.

John had wasted no time in starting to apologize, but rather than cry, you had just held your bleeding nose and punched him right back, before dragging him and Arthur off to clean them up.

From that day forward, you and John were inseparable, tight as two peas in a pod, but only as friends.

People often mistook your close friendship for young love, and it annoyed Tommy to no end, as he had developed a crush on you almost the same instant he laid eyes on you that day, watching with curious eyes as you punched his little brother in the face and then proceeded to scold both him and Arthur like you had known them forever.

Already at that time, you had actually managed to shut them up, having them hang their heads in shame while you cleaned their cuts, and it made Tommy fascinated, as he had never seen someone have so much control over them before.

Not even their aunt Polly.

At that time, Tommy had still been calm, and although sometimes a bit reckless, not half as violent as his brothers. So, most of the times, save a few when he actually joined in on the fighting, he would be stuck cleaning up his brothers with you.

It was two months later that you brought John over for dinner at your house for the first time, despite having been at theirs several times. And it was then John met Martha for the first time.

They took a liking to each other in an instant despite her being two years younger than you, and while you and John stayed best friends and attached at the hip, they started hanging out without you eventually, their relationship taking a romantic turn.

This left you with Arthur and Tommy, but since Arthur was the oldest of the brothers and had to help out with Finn, it was usually just you and Tommy.

You would spend hours on Charlie’s Yard with the horses, and stay out until late at night, just sitting around smoking cigarettes and laughing to the point where you would clutch your stomachs and be unable to breath.

For years, you and Tommy beat around the bush of your feelings to one another, as both of you were oblivious to the other’s emotions.

Tommy finally gathered up the courage to tell you one day, but then the war struck, and he decided to wait to tell you until afterwards, not wanting to leave you with that kind of heartbreak, should you love him back.

And so they left, leaving you back in Small Heath with Martha, Polly, Ada and your nieces and nephews; John and your sister sure had been busy.

You thought a lot about Tommy while they were away, but not as much as you would have if you would have stepped up your relationship before he left.

Tommy, however, thought about you every day, keeping a locket with your picture in his chest pocket, close to his heart at all times.

While away, John would talk about Martha and their children all the time. Tommy wanted to talk about you too, but for some reason, he just found himself unable to admit his feelings out loud before he had told you first.

But when the war was over, John came home and Martha was gone, having passed away in the influenza only weeks before their homecoming.

John was absolutely heartbroken and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t take care of his four children without the touch of a woman.

And so, you stuck around him from the moment he came back home.

Everyday, you would go over to his house with fresh food, getting up early every morning to go to the shop and be able to pick out the best fruit and vegetables before they were gone.

You would make them breakfast in the morning, making sure they were all fed, that the kids were ready for school, and that John actually got out of bed and headed over to the Betting Shop.

You would then hang around the Shelby residence the whole day while Polly and the Blinders tended to their business in the back, but rather than actually socialize, you prepped lunch and dinner for everyone and made sure everything was clean and in order so that Polly wouldn’t have to, taking care of Finn and John’s kids until it was time for the latter to go home to their own house.

All day, you would fuss over John and bid to his every request like you were the one he had married, taking care of his children like you were their mother. At least that’s how Tommy saw it.

He wasn’t the same after the war. He barely got any sleep at night, lying awake and listening to the sounds of shovels digging against the walls with panic, fear and anxiety rattling his bones. He craved for your touch, to be in your arms, but all you ever saw was John.

You knew it sounded horrible, but since they got back from the war, you had barely even taken the time to notice the way it had affected the older two of the three veterans. The only one you ever focused on was John, and everyone could see how jealous it made Tommy.

Before the war, he had been able to keep his romantic feelings towards you hidden good enough, but now, with the turn for the worse that his personality had taken, he was like an open book.

The only ones who couldn’t see it, were you and John, you being too busy to keep everything balanced in his and the children’s lives, and him being too wrapped up in his own chaotic mind to notice.

And though you and John had never been more than friends, everyone were now starting to doubt your constant denies to any romantic involvement with each other. Even Polly.

But they didn’t know that when you had put your nieces and nephews to bed every night, John would lay with his head in your lap and cry about your sister, remembering all of their shared moments and blaming himself for her death.

In what way it was his fault that she caught the influenza while he was away, you couldn’t quite figure out. But then again, you guessed there wasn’t really any logic in heartbreak, which was also why Tommy had been acting like a downright asshole for the past few months.

And today, when John had called for a family meeting in the backroom in The Garrison, was no different.

“Alright, John.” Tommy said in a bored toned as he wandered inside to where the rest of you were already sitting, trying his best to keep his eyes away from him where you sat beside him and sitting down on the opposite side of the table and lighting a cigarette. “Get on with it.”

You instantly glared at him, not knowing what had gotten into him. John was obviously distraught and exhausted, and yet he treated him like dirt.

Polly glared along with you, putting a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “What’s troubling you?”

John took a shaky breath, fiddling with the box of matches in his hand, toothpick hanging from his lips and eyes red from tears and the lack of sleep. “Polly, you know what it’s been like since Martha died.”

Polly nodded, doing the sign of the cross and looking up into the ceiling. “God takes the best first.”

John’s leg bounced under the table with anxiety. He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded, telling him to go on. “Well, the truth is, my kids have been running bloody rings around me. Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours.”

You looked at him with sympathetic eyes as he spoke, knowing more than anyone how exhausted he was. You wanted to keep helping him, but you couldn’t be with them at all hours every day anymore, as you had picked up a job as a nurse that would be taking time out of your days.

But Tommy didn’t seem to understand at all what he was getting at, only giving him an uninterested look and motioning to his aunt. “Pol, give him ten bob, some shoes.” He then turned to his younger brother, quirking a brow. “Is that it, John?”

“Tommy, we’d be better doing this without you.” Polly scoffed, before turning to John. “Now, what’s you point?”

John cleared his throat, straightened himself up and speaking in a much louder and cleared voice. “What the kids need is a mother. So, that’s why I’m getting married.”

Arthur and Polly shared a hesitant glance, looking between you and John with slightly narrowed eyes as they tried to figure the whole situation out.

Suspiciously, Arthur asked. “Does this poor girl know you’re going to marry her or are you going to spring it on her all of a sudden?”

“I’ve already proposed to her and she said ‘yes’.” John nodded, and when he looked at you for confirmation, to which you put a comforting hand on top of his while offering a smile, it was like all of the air was sucked out of the room.

With the suspicions that had been going around your inner circle in the last year, with the way you had been taking care of John and the children, everyone thought the same thing, and Tommy could feel his heart breaking in his chest right then and there.

Like so many times before, he found himself wishing he’d told you about his feelings before he left for France. But it was too late now.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, only leaning his arms forward on the table and looking down, hurrying to take a drag of his cigarette in a desperate attempt to rid himself of some of the anxiety that was quickly building up inside of him.

But it did absolutely nothing to soothe him.

Polly and Arthur both looked at the two of you with wide eyes and flabbergasted expressions.

“I-“ Polly paused, blowing out a breath and shaking her head slightly. “I guess we’ve been suspecting this for a while but we… We were never really certain.”

Arthur looked confused as ever, looking between you, John and Tommy, who was still glaring into the table. “Aye, always thought you had something going on with Tommy boy before we left.”

You and John both whipped your heads around to face each other, eyes growing wide at the realization of what they were saying, catching on immediately, but you were more shocked about what Arthur had said about you and Tommy.

While John looked at Polly with a horrified expression, you simply turned to watch Tommy with widened eyes, only then realizing the way he was glaring into the table.

“What?” John questioned, looking around at everyone in the room with a bewildered expression. “You thought- You thought I meant (Y/N)?”

Arthur and Polly shared a confused glance. “Didn’t you? We just assumed...”

“With he way she’s been ‘elping you…” Arthur joined in, both distraught.

At that, you pulled your eyes away from Tommy and exclaimed together with John.

“No!”

While John only shook his head violently, you scrunched up your nose. “That’s disgusting.”

At any other time, John would have for sure made a comment to that, but now he could only nod along. “We’ve been best friends since we were sixteen. I love ‘er like my sister.”

“Then who are you talking about?” Polly was even more confused now.

John looked to you, and you nodded to him, urging him to tell them.

“It’s Lizzie Stark.” He told them. “(Y/N) and I have never and will never be anything other than friends.”

By now, Tommy had looked up again, and you could feel his stare burning into your face, causing you to turn to meet his eyes.

He wanted to comment his brother’s choice of fiancée, but the only thing on his mind right then was you.

He had never experienced a panic like the one he had felt in the moment he thought you were the one marrying his brother. Not even the war could begin to compare to it.

And everyone else were just as relieved, finally not having to deal with Tommy’s sulky and bitter attitude now that he got another chance to come clean to you about his feelings.

John, however, as he had never thought about his older brother seeing you in a romantic way, only looked confused, eyes flickering between the people in the room. “Why did you think Tommy and (Y/N) was a thing?”

Polly and Arthur exchanged another glance, before turning to look at you and Tommy who had yet to look away from each other. John did the same, and realization finally lit up on his face, followed by narrowed eyes.

“Wait a minute…”

But before he could say anything else, Polly had whisked him out of his seat, clapping her hands and beginning to move out of the room. “Right.” She said. “I think we better let these two have some privacy. Go on, out you go.”

“But I-“ John tried to protest, but he was quickly pushed out of the room when Arthur joined his aunt’s side, the two managing to stop him from re-entering together and the oldest Shelby brother only smirking at the two of you before closing the doors, leaving you alone.

But neither of you had noticed any of it, as you were still starring into each other’s eyes.

Tommy’s face was a lot more relaxed now, the cigarette almost burned all the way to his fingers as he had forgotten all about it.

You could see it then in his eyes, the hidden feelings he had harbored for you for so long, just like you had for him. You had always felt some kind of connection with him, ever since you started hanging out alone when John first started courting your sister.

But even then, you had been too self-conscious and insecure to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, your opinion always being that he could get better.

He was Thomas bloody Shelby, for Christ’s sake; he could get anyone he wanted with a simple smile.

Yet, you couldn’t understand how you hadn’t seen it before, the memories of the countless of times you had caught him staring at you absentmindedly when you were younger now coming rushing back to the surface as you relived each and every one of those moments all in one.

Reality suddenly came crashing down, and you finally realized how different everything had been since they came back from the war.

Before the war, despite John still having been your best friend, it was Tommy who had kept you company each and every day. When he came back, you should have seen the impact the war had had on him.

But you had just been so caught up in keeping John sane that you had barely even acknowledged him during the whole year.

The realization filled you with guilt and caused a heavy frown to rise to your face, which instantly had you looking down in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Was the only thing you could say, looking back up slowly to see Tommy looking at you with a confused expression.

“For what?”

You gave him a sad look. “For denying you my support when you came back. You needed it just as much as John did, and I should have seen it. But I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a small, sad smile, finally letting the cigarette go, crushing it onto the ashtray in front of him. “I suppose it’s mostly my fault. If only I’d told you before I left, maybe things would have been different.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing exactly what he was talking about. But still, you wanted to hear him say it, asking in a shaky breath. “Well, do you have anything to tell me now?”

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, before finally standing up, straightening his jacket and walking over to you.

You wasted no time in standing up to meet him, your breathing becoming heavier with the proximate position you were now in, your eyes locked together and faces so close your noses were only inches away from touching.

With patronizingly slow movement, he reached out a hand and tucked a small strand of hair behind your ear, his hands then coming to rest on your cheeks. And with a concentrated expression, he finally spoke.

“I love you, (Y/N). I have ever since we first met.”

Your lips tugged into a wide smile and you instinctively leaned into his touch, your eyes never leaving his as your hands came up to cup the hands on your cheeks. “I love you too, Thomas Shelby.”

A smile to match your own appeared on his face, and only a second later, your lips were pressed together.

The kiss was short and sweet, years’ worth of bottled up emotion spilling out in that one moment and leaving you weak at the knees.

Only when you pulled away did you notice the way his whole body was shaking lightly, a frown instantly rising to your face as you squeezed your hands tighter to his.

“You’re trembling.” You spoke in a mere whisper.

But it was loud enough for him to hear, getting him to let out a short laugh. “John’s engagement announcement gave me quite a scare.”

You laughed along with him, blushing slightly and cringing at the thought of people actually thinking you and John were a thing.

Tommy grew serious once again, caressing your cheeks gently with a small frown. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

But you could only shake your head with a wide smile, not able to care about anything other than him in that moment.

“It doesn’t matter.” You told him. “In the end, things that are meant to be always finds its way. It took time, but it was sure worth the wait.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #finn shelby #john shelby #polly gray #john shelby x reader

1K notes · View notes

ash-etherwood · 3 years

Note

Top 5: writing memories, songs, characters that are not blank rune, runes, food

♡

Linda I love you but are you trying to kill me … that’s so many Top 5’s! But alright, I’ll do my best! (Answers will probably switch between German and English RIP to every non-German-speaker who follows me and wants to read this for some reason I swear I’m normal)

WRITING MEMORIES

5.) The entire time I spent finishing my first (second?) longer writing project It was the year 2012 and it was a cyberpunk story about my friends’ and my edgy self inserts riding dinosaurs, fighting aliens and being badass. The plot twist in the end was that my character was secretly evil and wanted to kill everyone. (Things to show your therapist) The final boss fight made zero sense and also everything was incredibly weird and stupid. But sometimes I still think about those times when I sat in my grandma’s living room at night, eating chips and listening to Vocaloid covers while thinking this story was the coolest shit ever. Truly simpler times.

4.) Researching something about universities in Texas for OvF on a rainy Saturday afternoon I have no idea why this memory is still sticking with me to this day (I think it was around 2016 or something?), but I remember that it was just a really nice day and I felt really at peace at that moment?

3.) The entire writing process of Bathroom Blues It was such a spontaneous project and I still have no idea how I managed to power though it in just a little under two months! Also it was just incredibly fun seeing you getting excited over new drafts and I loved coming up with new plot points and Halloween costumes for everyone with you. :-D Truly a summer worth remembering.

2.) FINALLY uploading the prologue and intro chapter of WWBL Not really a writing memory, but that moment was … so sexy and magical. Seriously, you have no idea how long I had been waiting to finally start that story, waiting for the Steckbriefe to roll in and see people react to the prologue and generally the idea … I even made one of those countdown graphic thingies for the designated upload date! 8D At that point I had planned that story for about six months and just … yeah, that felt powerful to me.

1.) Writing the prologue for WWBL When I first started the draft for that prologue I was sitting at the window in my favourite hotel in Winterberg, Sauerland, wore my dark green flannel, had the window wide open breathing in the cool mountain air and allowed myself to listen to my WWBL playlist for the very first time. God, that felt so amazing. I even have a photo of it (which somehow makes it look like I have the biggest football shoulders in the universe) my sister took that night. God I miss Sauerland. )’:

- - - - -

SONGS

My apologies to every favourite song of mine that I forgot about, I have a whole playlist of them, but I think these are some of my oldest faves … (Honorable mentions for Don’t Mess With Me and Not That Big by Temposhark, Goodbye by Apparat, Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin, Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers, Pain and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Beautiful Crime by Tamer, Gravity Of Love by Enigma, In Flames by Digital Daggers [thanks Phi u_u] and Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts AHHH FUCK IT I could’ve just made a playlist,,,)

5.) Vater Unser by E Nomine Starting off with some weird shit, won’t we? I’ve been in love with this song since fifth or sixth grade, when I was just starting to develop an actual music taste and although I have many favourite songs by E Nomine, this one has to be my absolute fave. Every time I can relate it to a character it makes me love said character even more. (Also I think about it every time my mom forces me to go to church for Christmas so … yay? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember the Vater Unser if it wasn’t for this song. 8D)

4.) Wires by The Neighbourhood I think this is the newest all-time fave on this list, I found it in … 2015? Thank you, Youtube AMVs. Yeah man, this one is just … on so many playlists it’s not even funny anymore.

3.) Heathens by Twenty One Pilots An edgelord classic but like … it’s on EVERY playlist of mine. Every single one. It’s just so good. The first time I heard it was on the radio tho, when I was having breakfast with Jessie and I forced her to shazam it because it immediately stuck with me,,,

2.) Imaginary by Evanescence My first Evanescence song ever and the first step towards becoming who I am today I think. This song has like … such a big history for me, man. It single-handedly turned me goth in 2008 and I have never really thanked it for that.

1.) Eternal by Evanescence Might be my favourite song of all time. The number of dramatic RP scenes I have written with this in the background … man. Oh, also this song is the reason for one of my oldest internet nicknames, ‘eternala’, which subsequently shortened into Etschuh and then Tschuh, my main nickname until 2017, when I came out as trans and finally found an actual name for myself I was comfortable with!

- - - - -

NON BLANK RUNE CHARACTERS

I know this was probably supposed to be about fandom characters but I can literally not come up with a single character right now that I love with a special burning passion and that is not my or one of my friends’ OCs so you’re getting OCs now. u_u And boy do I have a lot of those.

5.) Jackson Tracey from atroCITY (mine) This little piece of shit kept me company for a pretty long time and is still very close to my heart for some reason, although I haven’t drawn him or really thought about him in detail for a while now. My favourite thing is how I only realized what a horrible person he was after I stopped regularly working with him but honestly good for me. 8D His storyline and personality is kinda convoluted and tbh I’m not really sure how much of it is canon anyway (atrc was always a little weird about canon rip) but yeah. He’s an obsessive stalker piece of shit who pities himself way too much and he is also a semi-immortal demigod who likes knives. I hate him but he also helped me a lot with some gender and sexuality stuff so thanks I guess.

4.) Mayoko Imai from Century Riders DXPrototype (Maus’ and mine) Mayoko is a magical girl protagonist with a cool cyborg arm prosthetic and her main character trait was that she was basically a reverse weeaboo, a Japanese girl who was obsessed with American media, culture and comic book heroes! I actually love her concept a lot and she also had a pretty cool character arc in her story (which Maus and I wrote together and actually finished btw!), although it could use a lot more … polishing from today’s point of view. But I love her anyway. She always wanted to do the right thing and be a hero and got broken pretty cruelly and her ending is kinda bittersweet I guess? Ahh there’s just so much nuance to it … anyways, CR3 also stuck with me for a very long time and I enjoyed the time with her a lot. :3 (Her name had a cameo in Another Incident btw heehee)

3.) Tessa *insert extremely long chain of unnecessary first names here* von Lean from Nobody Is Perfect and Infernal Temptation (belongs to one of my old school friends) Tessa is just … a hand full. I love to hate her. She is badly written and developed and just OOZES mentally ill teenage girl’s idealized self-insert power fantasy, but she just … man, she was a big part of one of my most drama-filled high school friendships which I love looking back at so much. Tessa has fucked so many of my characters … good for her tbh! There are actually two versions of her, one is just a ‘normal’ teenage girl and one can shapeshift into a cheetah, but both of them are very close to my heart. I should really adopt and redesign her some day.

2.) Judy Khayat from Original vs. Final (mine) Look, I love all my OvF-characters and every single one of them is special to me in their own way, but Judy is just … the most complex of them all I think? Man, she went through so much … she is actually one of my oldest (semi)-active characters (I created her in 2009) and her latest version is from 2016 but I should really, REALLY revise her again tbh. She has a very complicated backstory that I didn’t handle as carefully as I should have, and anger issues and religious conflict and depression and PTSD and then Vance of all people becomes obsessed with her for no reason and decides to traumatize her even more … yeah. God I really love her but I seriously need to work on her. A LOT. I should also finally rename her tbh … let’s just see where she takes me next.

1.) Okami (I don’t even remember if she has a proper last name rn lol) from Split Realm (mine) Yeah, that bitch is just my favourite OC. She’s also very old, probably from around 2009, and initially was a magical girl with fire powers who I played in an RP with my friend Flauch but boy did she grow up! Holy fuck. Okami is a horrible person but I love her so much. She is so violent and full of anger and pain and sadness and treats everyone around her like shit and she is in love and she is a demon but also apparently the personification of the concept of Chaos but she just wants to be a teenager again and run away with the love of her life and ahhh it’s all so hopeless for her … also she turned out gnc af with time passing and pretty much went through a gender/sexuality crisis in real time with me, her creator, which is always fun. :^D I haven’t drawn her in a while tbh. Should really do that.

- - - - -

RUNES IN BLANK RUNE

I’m just gonna go with the arcs here, okay? Also this entire answer might look completely different if you asked me again tomorrow, you know how indecisive I am with Blank Rune shit ahha,,,

5.) Jera Look. I know I’m boring and stupid. But I just love Tave and Liam having their disgusting little foreshadowing talk, okay? I can read it over and over. I just love my horrible little shit crime boys. Also Rhy and Phillip are there. (’:

4.) Isa This one is here because it was the first arc I witnessed in real time which gives it a very special place in my heart and it also … hit pretty hard at the time. But having read Fehu it’s become even better now! It’s just such a wonderful, tragic romance between two horrible, ruthless boys and I … I’m not immune to Rhy, sadly. :-/ Just like Phillip.

3.) Wunjo We still haven’t seen everything that leads up to Wunjo yet, but we DO know more than we did initially (wow shocker) and it’s just always a fucking blast. Also, it has the first mention of Ash’s real name … the first Rhy POV (which what the fuck!! I always feel like we had one before but we didn’t!! Wild) and it has crazy blood-soaked murder Tave, my beloved. :///3

2.) Eiwaz You guys have heard me fanboy about Eiwaz so many times already. Eiwaz-OT3 (and Kain) my beloved!!! It’s just SUCH an amazing starting point and there are so, so many things that tie back to it and every time we find out about a new one my heart makes a little jump … und es beginnt von Neuem indeed.

1.) Gebo One of the most painful but also the most beautiful arcs yet in my opinion. It’s been hyped up for so long and boy did it deliver. God, my heart still hurts when I think about that last scene. Also all the dialogue … the golden lines we got … and it’s an arc without Rhy! Crazy!! :-D I just love the relationship between Ash, Astrid and Jakob so much. God fuck I want what they have. Just maybe without the murder suicide,,,

- - - - -

FOOD

5.) Diese Sonntagsbrötchen wo die Verpackung so plopp macht, wenn man die Folie abzieht Better than normale Brötchen for some reason. Most of the time. See 2.) Look man, I just really love a good breakfast …

4.) Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese topping One of the first things from a certain baking book I tried when I was getting into baking back in 2019. God they are so tasty. I don’t make them often so I don’t get used to them too much and eating them still feels special but ahhhh I love them so much!

3.) Grünkohl mit Kartoffelbrei und Mettendchen One of my favourite things about autumn/winter and one of my biggest comfort foods. God I love this shit so much. I just put … mountains of Grünkohl and Kartoffelbrei on my plate every time and I will just warm it up for four days straight until there’s no more left. It turns me into a fucking caveman. I’m not even big on eating meat but … yeah. Everything is different when there’s Grünkohl.

2.) Normales Brötchen mit Butter und Scheibenkäse aber ich bin beim Frühstücksbuffet im Hotel Oddly specific but that’s just how it is. Sorry. Nichts geht über Brötchen mit Käse.

1.) Chilli-Knoblauch-Nudelauflauf My beloved. My comfort food. I eat it literally every second day. At least one hour in the kitchen every time. Fresh ingredients. My only vegetable intake. And I’ve been doing that for three years. I just love it so much, man. I cook it for everyone who visits me. Chilli-Knoblauch-Auflauf cured my depression.

#ask #crimsondaisy #2.4k works of me talking about myself under the cut rip #thank you tho!!!

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

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OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS FIC: THE GODS AWAKEN (PT. XIV)

“Lord Belos, the Owl Lady and her acquaintances have arrived.”

The entrance to Belos’ throne room opened widely. The Owl Spy came in first accompanied by Eda, Lilith, and King. They wore heavy shackles on their ankles (but it proved to be more cumbersome for King due to his tiny body), and cuffs were fixed on their wrists. To add salt to the injury, Eda and Lilith’s fingers had additional bindings so they would not attempt to draw circles in the air.

Emperor Belos was slouched in his throne, his right hand holding up his forehead. The Titan’s heart once again was beating, but now it was a more noticeable tremor to it. Belos exhaled sharply and then deeply exhaled the air from his lungs. It had become a very circulated fact that Belos had seen better days. Somewhere in his fifty-year reign of the Boiling Isles, his health declined. With no heirs known either legitimately or otherwise, Death may as well knock on his door one of these days. Belos clutched at his chest from the sudden sensation of a deathly cough violently scratch its way up his airbags. The most powerful witch of the Boiling Isles wheezed a squeaking tune. His chest convulsed a few times. The Owl Spy and the guards carrying the prisoners stood in place pondering if he would cough up a lung or two.

Kikimora stood at the left side of Belos’ throne. She was informed of her lord’s coughing fits earlier and never took her eyes off him. When she heard the spy say that the Owl Lady had been captured, that was the one time that she did direct her attention from Belos. There Eda was: rather than being cursed into her monstrous, owl-like form, Eda was back to her normal appearance from her grayish-wild hairstyle to her clothes. Kikimora was conflicted: she never denounced Belos as a liar or for being incorrect. But here was the Owl Lady back as her own treacherous self. Seeing her this way for the first time made Kikimora start to ponder her master’s claims of being the Titan’s representative. But even humoring the idea that Belos was a fraud filled her with a sudden dread that Belos could be reading her thoughts at that moment. Oh, Titan, what would he do to her for her lack of belief? There were many ways for witches and demons to die in different, creative ways.

Belos lifted his head sluggishly in a sideways glance at the prisoners. His exposed blue eye stared at them to study them. “It is such a pleasure being in the presence of you, Owl Lady.”

Eda scoffed. “That makes one of us.”

Belos ignored her snark and inspected Lilith again. “The Prodigal Child returns as well?”

“Enough with your flimsy peppering of words, what do you want from us?” Lilith demanded.

Belos sighed. “You know that only the most qualified of witches can join my coven?”

Lilith nodded. True, twenty odd years ago, joining the Emperor’s Coven was Lilith’s ambition for a long, long time. A dream that she shared with her younger sister, at least until that awful, terrible, reprehensible day she decided to curse her sister to give herself a better chance at narrowing her way to victory. A curse that was supposed to last for a day instead made Eda’s existence miserable, and ostracized her from witch society. Lilith’s bottom lip quivered from the acknowledgment Lilith placed such a heavy load on her sister’s shoulders all for a meaningless position due to Belos lying to her. From the deepest, darkest pits, a fire was raging.

“I made my decision to defect, Lord Belos,” Lilith announced with conviction.

Belos was speechless at first likely to digest the words his former servant was spieling out. “And I am sure you know what becomes of witches bereft of a coven?”

Like he alluded to her back when she captured her sister the first time, Belos lifted his staff and directed it towards the murals comprised of painted, stained glass. While Lilith anticipated this the moment she betrayed the Emperor, the thought of being on the receiving end of the most cruel and unusual of punishments in accordance to the Isles did make her step back on her confidence for a smidge.

“If it means atoning for all the horrible things you made me do in your name, I will accept that. But please, spare Edalyn and her dog’s lives. As well as Luz’s.”

As she spoke, two imperial guards came in holding the unconscious bodies of the two girls. The girls were being carried the guard’s stout shoulders. The girls’ arms loosely swayed back and forth behind the backs of the guards. They were placed on the ground with minimal gentleness. Belos stood from his throne and knelt down to further inspect the girls. With his staff, he tapped the limbs of the girls and then their backs. He pressed his index finger and thumb on the chin of his mask inquisitively.

“By the Titan, these two girls actually managed to do it.”

Eda smirked. She did have some shred of doubt that Luz may have failed and that the likelihood of her becoming braindead as a result of the brew did concern her, but she also knew that Luz could pull it off. It gave her all the more reason to be proud that she was Luz’s mentor.

“Yeah, that’s right Belos,” she bragged, “and when she gets the book, we will do everything in our power to keep you from getting your grubby hands on that book!”

“Ho, oh!” Emperor Belos retorted “a most charming dream, but tis be the nature.”

Belos slammed his staff on the ground and returned to his throne. There was a side door behind the mighty throne of Belos which creaked itself open. Out from it walked Odalia Blight holding the staff she was entrusted with by Nyarlathotep. It was made of the same breed of tree most witches of the Boiling Isles own, but instead of a palisman adorned on the top, there was a gem which glittered in the light. A large, ruby gemstone accompanied with a low murmuring sound. Befitting of her social status, Odalia had a haughty grin from ear to ear. Odalia stepped aside to allow a few more of the imperial guards to exit.

“Well, what have we here? Enemies, traitors, and lowly demons.”

Eda tilted her head. “You...one of the Blights I assume?”

“Of course, darling,” Odalia bragged, her hand squarely on her breast. “One of the most esteemed, exquisite, and powerful of the Boiling Isles.”

She brags a lot about her bloodline, Eda thought to herself. Sure, Eda would tend to think of herself in high regard, but Odalia was taking it leagues above. She sensed a small bit of tension in the air: the Owl Spy had disappeared from the room the instant that Odalia strolled her way in acting top class.

“Yeah, yeah, go suck a griffin egg,” Eda groaned, “I still remember all the bragging you did back at Hexside.”

Odalia smirked. “At the least I didn’t become a criminal.”

Odalia tilted her head back and laughed like a noblewoman. For whatever reason, Eda felt the growing urge to punch the lady over and over until she was an unidentifiable pulp. One that not even the dark arts could ever hope to revitalize.

“Wait, you are a part of the coven now?” Lilith asked.

“Indeed, I am,” Odalia boasted.

“How? I could have sworn that you lost the competition of joining the coven years ago. As much as I hate the Emperor, at the least he always remained consistent on the qualifications to join the coven. I mean, that is the very reason we have the coven system.”

“I am very aware of my lack of qualifications, but I was granted audience with Lord Belos, and he entrusted me with acting on his will.”

Odalia towered above her daughter’s body. From the way she was fixed, Eda was unable to read any emotion on her face. Odalia then turned away from her daughter, returning her accusatory glare at the Owl Lady. “Is this the nature of being on the run; scouting people into your ranks?”

“Amity chose of her own volition to help Luz acquire the book,” Eda clarified, “maybe you do not understand your daughter as much as you’d like to think?”

“You and your human pest have been nothing but a thorn in the side of my family,” Odalia yelled, “perverted thoughts spreading rampant, disrupting the bloodline.”

“That is absurd; Amity was a girl who was always tired of the way that you were restricting her freedoms. Instead, what do you want her to do? Study. Work hard. Study some more. You try to control every aspect of her life including those that she hanged out with. And yet once you get off your high horse, you do not understand why your daughter is having her rebel stage now? It’s because you are trying to mold her into being just like you. You keep on going on and on about bloodline this, bloodline that...maybe you can take one second to think about what your daughter actually wants instead of making decisions for her?”

Odalia held the staff firmly between her eyes and loudly ground her teeth. “She is not my daughter; she made up her own mind to follow an inferior ape, so I now acknowledge that I have two older children who will listen to every word I say and continue down the right path of making our family name immortal.”

Odalia clapped her hands and brought Edric out. The Owl House residents almost fainted from what they had seen: Edric was emaciated and skinnier than usual. His skin was now paper-thin and very suspect to bruising easily. Edric’s eyes became small, golden pupils because of their sunken position. Odalia took the liberty of dressing her son for the day in his casual clothing, but the clothes were slipping off him because of his sudden thinness. Edric’s legs lacked enough muscle to protect the bones from snapping like a pair of chopsticks. New waves of pain washed over the young witch with every step he took.

“What have you done to him?” Eda asked horrified.

“The staff that I was given requires magic to fuel it...an excessive amount if you so please.”

Odalia held the staff in front of Edric and activated it. A swirling cloud appeared in the gemstone and began to draw once more on Edric’s magic. Edric howled in excruciating agony the sort of pain that could rip a person inside out. Green vapor filtered through his body orifices and collected inside the gemstone. Edric dropped on his knees the surge of affliction still flowing through his veins. He looked up at his mother before a whooping cough manifested. At certain intervals, Eda and the others could catch glimpses of his stomach and chest during his fits; his rib cage was poking against the flaps of skin.

Lilith clenched her teeth. “Can’t you see that you are putting your own son in such pain and for what cost?”

“He is making the Blight family proud immortal,” Odalia simply said with a cold flair in her explanation, “small sacrifices need to be made, and my son is more than worthy of the title.”

“From the looks of it, your son is barely hanging on by a thread,” Eda interjected, “what if you kill him?”

“My son will provide the way of the Blight family name becoming renowned and feared by all of creation; the powers that be – the Titan, or perhaps one of the greater gods – will greatly reward him.”

Two guards came into the throne room and each individually held the thrashing arms of Emira Blight. She reared herself up to take a swinging kick at her kidnappers, but it was no use. Her struggles subsided upon catching sight of her twin brother. “Edric!?”

The guards let her go at that moment. Without much prompt, Emira raced towards her brother and clutched his head in her hand. “Speak to me, please!”

Edric weakly opened his eyes to see tears running down his twin sister’s face. She tried to fight back the treacherous tears with all her might, but her throat was growing larger from her increasing despair. “Mom, can’t you see that you are sucking him dry?!”

The gemstone’s inherent ability of stealing magic was greater than that of the basilisk that infiltrated Hexside months ago and nearly drained all the students of their magic. Emira held her face over Edric’s her tears now falling on his. He stared into the matching eyes of his sister for a long time likely to say whatever was at the top of his head, but the agonizing pain was preventing him from performing what amounted to a simple task.

Eda and Lilith attempted to wiggle their fingers out of their restraints. “Odalia, you have gone too far, you have to be stopped!” Lilith proclaimed.

Odalia ignored them and looked at the staff again. It murmured the same low drone it always did. Before the prisoners, Odalia conducted a conversation with the staff. There were a few nods implicating a mutual understanding and deal-making. She studied Emira and took a few glances at the magic staff. “The staff is still unsatisfied.”

Odalia pointed to Emira. “Once your brother had served his use, you shall be the next one that the staff consumes.”

Emira shook violently. “Mom, you’ve become insane!!”

Odalia flicked her hand to the guards. “Keep Emira imprisoned here; once I lead the army on the Earth realm, I will return to offer more sacrifices to it for Belos’ victory.”

The imperial guards surrounded the green-haired teenage girl. At any time, Emira would be more than willing to administer a thorough beat down on her enemies, but she was sorely outnumbered. They came down on her in a frenzy and stole away the girl. They disappeared behind the second door her screams fading away the further they ran. Belos stood up and raised his arms.

“Now with that settled, Miss Blight, you have the honors of enacting the Day of Unity!”

Odalia obeyed and went to walk back to the other room. She momentarily stopped to glance at Edric, again what she was really feeling in that moment being uncertain, and exited the throne room. Eda, Lilith, and King were forcibly grabbed as well and were being walked out.

“So, you are going to execute us?” King asked.

“My furry friend, no, this is not the Titan’s will. After all, how else will you enjoy the experience of the Day of Unity?”

Lilith shook her cuffs. “For years, you have told us without fail of this Day of Unity, but you never told us what it entailed. So, before you condemn me, please enlighten me.”

“That’s the old Lilith I remember,” Belos said in a disconcerting tone.

“Yeah, and why do you have such interest in the Earth?” Eda asked “you could have visited as many times that you wanted now that you have the portal door in your possession.”

While Belos’ true face was always concealed behind a mask, it was relatively easy to imagine that he was smiling malevolently.

“I have a score to settle with someone that you may or may not know,” he stated, “I will leave it as a surprise.”

Eda, Lilith, and King were marched out of the throne room to the dungeon of the coven. Alone with his thoughts, Belos cackled in ecstasy despite his wheezing cough.

“The Day of Unity is finally upon us! Go, go my servants into the human realm! Go and slaughter all in your path!! Reduce their cities to rubble! Leave not one stone unturned! Darken their skies and poison their lands!! Reduce their world to ashes and blow those ashes into the farthest reaches of space! By the name of the Titan, the Earth will be laid to waste, never to be remembered or missed.”

#the owl house #day of unity #the day of unity #owl house #the owl house fanfiction #odalia blight #blight family #edric blight #emperor belos #belos #cthulhu mythos #fanfic

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babyflossy · 4 years

Text

club coartada | m.l

gif credits to owner

in the daytime part 2! you can read part one here!

pairing: mark x reader

summary: you meet a kind boy named mark who seems to be the only source of comfort in your drug-fueled pity party.

genre: gang au

warnings: swearing, unedited (i’m gonna edit it in the morning)

word count: 2.9k

a few weeks later and the pencilled list hidden under your floorboards was now finished. every name had been scribbled out, leaving you over half a million dollars richer but bored. originally you had planned to leave the city as soon as the list was finished, but the dark alleys and neon lights had made you strangely sad to leave. so, you stayed; finding that beyond the city's carefully structured facade, gang crime and paid killings were rampant, perfect for you. it took no longer than a day for your next client to get in touch with you, a disgustingly rich businessman who needed someone to deal with a mole in his company. you didn't think twice before accepting the job, arranging a meeting.

club coartadawas hidden away in the city centre, nothing but a small sign and a steep flight of stairs separating it from curious onlookers. with a cautious state of mind, you slowly made your way into the club. meeting with new clients was always tense, neither side fully trusting the other. the stairs led to a heavy metal door home to a tall muscular security guard that stared you down as you tried to enter.

"id?" he demanded as a darkly clothed arm reached out to barricade you in the stairwell. you jumped slightly, the sudden movement startling you. the ghoulish smirk that settled on his face made your stomach drop and you avoided his eyes as you pulled out your work id card. lia kim was written clearly next to your photo on the id, claiming you were from london. in reality, you had never even visited london before, but you doubted anyone believed what they read on id cards at places like this. the bouncer nodded at you and handed it back, pulling open the door for you, his greedy eyes following you as you moved beneath his arm.

the club was grander than you had expected. a large circular room with shimmering gold walls greeted you, the metallic smell of money mixing with what you thought was champagne. a wine-red bar covered the circumference of nearly a third of the room, bartenders busily mixing drinks for the customers lounging around. dark suited men stood periodically around the room; eyes focused on the people loitering around, discreetly listening. the one closest to the door nodded at you in acknowledgment, reading through a leather book on the table next to him. he seemed to be trying to figure out who you were from the list, you spied small descriptions next to the names. seo younghowas written at the top, the accompanying description read tall, dark hair... the book slammed shut before you could read anything more, the worker's eyes boring into yours.

"miss kim lia?" you nodded once at him, watching the way his eyes skirted around the room, surveying the atmosphere before he left his post and started walking towards the only other door in the room. "right this way." a white gloved hand pushed a combination into the keypad too quickly for you to remember and you sighed in disappointment. the hand pushed the door open for you and you didn't bother to thank him as you walked through.

beyond the door was a simple corridor, identical metal doors lining the walls. out of the dozen doors only four of them were open, the chatter spilling into the hallway. you were led to the furthest door from the entrance, your shoes clicking noisily on the stone floor. halfway to your destination, a door to your right swung open violently and you jumped back to avoid being hit. you smiled politely at the men exiting. a tall man with dark hair – you wondered if this was the seo young ho from the book but dismissed it as you realised many people here would be described as such – walked quickly out the room, a slightly shorter man with lighter hair following swiftly behind, a smug expression over his face. you froze as you saw the last man exit. smaller than his predecessors but still towering over you, you met mark's eyes before looking away immediately.

praying that he hadn't recognised you, you tried to slip past the door, but mark's voice stopped you. "y/n?" his voice was hushed, and you looked back to see the men he was with had left already, not waiting for him. "what are you doing here?" he looked unbelievably confused and you wanted nothing more than to evaporate on the spot.

possible outcomes shot through your mind. he had used your real name, you couldn't admit to being y/n, you had to pretend to not know who he was. you schooled your expression into one of impatience before you replied. "sorry, do i know you? you must have me mistaken. i'm lia, not y/n." the doubt that flashed across mark's face was reassuring. deep down, you knew he understood what you were doing, and you were thankful when he apologised politely and started down the hallway again.

letting out the breath you didn't realise you had been holding, you were led into the meeting room with your client. the room was more lavishly furnished than the bar you had passed through earlier, deep purple couches surrounded a modern glass coffee table. a glittering crystal chandelier hung low over the table, casting reflections onto the walls creating an almost magical effect. the man on the farthest sofa stood when you entered, an impish smile on his aged face. his hair was shining grey in the warm glow of the chandelier. he waved off the workers in the room, his watery eyes never leaving you. he gestured to the couch in front of him, holding a glass of what looked like champagne out to after you had seated yourself. the velvet was soft under your hands and you toyed with the edge of the fabric as the man introduced himself.

"my name is dr. kil si'u, but you can call me simon," his voice was gravelly but not unkind. he watched you take a sip of what you were now sure was champagne before continuing, "and i already know who you are." he spoke with a gentle pleasantry unexpected from someone ordering a hit on an employee.

"i assume you have the file i requested?" you prompted, reaching your hand out when he produced a brown paper envelope from his jacket pocket. you slid your thumb under the seal and pulled out its contents. photos of the man in question adorned the glossy paper. in the office, on his commute home, an up-close photo of him on a phone call. flicking through the pages until you found his personal information, you displayed the rest on the coffee table in front.

the victim's birth name, age and workplace were written in clear black ink at the top of the page, followed by more personal information, like his home address, the name of his wife, the location of his local golf club. hwang seojun stared back at you from the pristine papers. you eyed the man in front of you carefully. he had given you all the information you required and more, you wondered if he either really wanted this man dead, or this was his first-time ordering a hit on someone.

"why?"

he looked almost surprised by the question and waited until he had sipped his own champagne flute a few times before answering. "he's been leaking information to the authorities, important information that could be detrimental to our welfare."

"what type of information?" you disguised your curiosity by claiming this was necessary information for the case. truthfully, anything other than the victim's name was to satisfy your inquisitive nature. simon's eye narrowed marginally and he took a moment to ponder over what to reply, you watching his reaction carefully.

"you're in this line of work," he started, index finger dancing lightly around the rim of the glass he was still holding. leaning back into the couch you waited with his response. a knock at the door distracted him and he waved the server away distractedly. "we work closely with people who do horrible; however immoralthey may seem to outsiders, they're necessary, they happen all the time. you of all people should understand how dangerous the police meddling can be."

"if you're asking me to kill someone working with the police, i'll have to raise the price," simon's eyebrows raised slightly in shock, but you continued. "these jobs are dangerous; the police often offer protection to people who give them information. it means i'm more likely to be caught, therefore i'll have to raise the price."

"by how much? name the price and i'll pay." that little sentence reminded you so fully of why you loved working with businessmen. they really had no idea what they were agreeing to.

"115,000 dollars," he whistled lowly in appreciation. were you overcharging? yes, massively so. but why wouldn't you if they always pay. "i operate on a half now, half later basis." you raised your eyebrows expectantly.

he seemed to think about it for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons. "will i get photo confirmation?"

"certainly."

"very well, let's do it," you shook the hand outstretched and watched in glee as he called for his assistant, a heavy black leather brief case appearing on the table between you. once clicked open, you saw it was completely brimmed with green paper notes. the assistant pulled on a pair of white gloves and offered you an identical pair. you pulled them on in delight. carefully the man pulled out twelve blocks of notes, taking the rubber band off each one and expertly counted them in front of you. 120,000 dollars sat in front of you and you looked up in question. "i'll add an extra 5,000 for a rush on this, yes?"

"it's been a pleasure doing business with you."

down the scope of a psgi sniper rifle, hwang seojun was getting out of his car. a sleek black convertible, showing off his status to the deserted suburban street. he raked a bare hand through his bleached hair, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. you watched him pause in front of a parking metre, resting his hand on top, giving you an unobstructed view of his torso. perfect, you thought, steading your hands and aiming the gun directly at his head.

it was a warm night, the absence of a breeze making your job just that little bit easier. the only thought crossing your mind as you pulled the trigger was the second instalment of the payment, thinking in elation of the things you could buy now. after hwang seojun's lifeless body hit the pavement, you lowered the gun, instead picking up the camera next to you on the rooftop. you zoomed in until the features of the body were visible, ensuring to get his car's registration plate in the background for extra measure. the photo would be sent by midnight, the rest of your money hopefully following shortly.

you weren't sure if it was the hefty sum of money you had received, or the ease of accepting that made you meet dr. kil si'u again, but you found yourself reclined in the same luxurious room less than a week after your first meeting with him. dressed in a dark blue suit that aged him unforgivingly, he handed you an envelope almost identical to the first. "after seeing how affective you were with our last deal, i'd like to offer you a similar price for another hit."

inside the envelope glossy paper showed you a woman, dark eyes but light hair with a dazzling smile. she didn't look ten years older than you, some of the photos were her latched on the arm of the man who had been on the other end of your sniper rifle. you assumed it was his wife, the matching wedding rings glinting under silver lights. your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the information page. hwang yeri was beautiful in every outward way. white teeth and a perfect nose made you unsurprised she was married to such a rich man.

it wasn't a question of whether you would accept or not. it would be an easy hit, dr. kil si'u having already proved to be a reliable client. the meeting was short and sweet, leaving the room with 50,000 dollars in cash stuffed into bag. the doors were held open for you as you walked back down the corridor to the entrance. you flickered your eyes around the circular bar one last time, admiring the gold encrusted tables and marble bar top. watching the customers as you opened the door to the street, your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw the man sat at the end of the bar, talking to the bartender. his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed at whatever the bartender had said. even in the crowded room, his laughter was as clear as the crystal champagne flutes. you thought you could make it outside unnoticed, but as if the universe was laughing at you, the familiar eyes locked on you. you took the stairs two at a time, darting across the street and into an alleyway, scared of him following you.

you knew your luck had run out when you heard fast footsteps behind you. scared to look back, you kept your head firmly forwards until a warm hand clasped around your shoulder. mark spun you around to face him, breathing heavily from running after you. "y/n." it wasn't a question.

"hey, mark," you avoided his eyes as you spoke.

he tried to meet your eyes, but you resisted, instead focusing on a point behind him, surveying the street. "what were you doing in there? who were you meeting?"

taking a gamble, you opted for telling him the truth, slightly. you weren't sure of the other meetings that went on in that club, but you prayed to any higher being it wasn't just illegal mis happenings. "i was meeting with a client." your voice was quiet, and mark had to strain to hear it.

"a client? for what?" you finally looked at him and you were taken straight back to the night on the balcony, thinking about how soft his lips looked.

"for work, mark. why are you asking so many questions?" running away crossed your mind and you weighed up the chance you could outrun him. he looked quite athletic, however, and you knew your chances were slim.

"are you a hitman? or a drug dealer, then? those are the only meetings that happen there." well, shit. so much for being covert. he seemed to notice your panic and his jaw slackened. "you're a fucking hitman–"

"don't say it so loudly, jesus christ!" his voice was muffled as you slapped your hand over his mouth desperately, eyes flitting around you to see if anyone had heard. mark wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you into an empty alleyway, safe from prying ears.

"i didn't peg you for a hitman, to be honest," he didn't look as disturbed as you would expect, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"stop trying to peg me, then." the words slipped out before you realised the double meaning and you felt your cheeks blaze. mark sputtered out a laugh, checking again to see if anyone else was in the alleyway. there was a lonely restaurant at the far end, all the tables outside empty and rusted. it looked like they hadn't been used in decades.

"i'm not gonna sell you out to the cops or anything, don't worry." you resisted the urge to laugh at him. if you had even a shadow of doubt in him, he would be dead by now.

"what were you doing in there anyway?" the question made the smile dissipate from his face, his voice careful when he spoke.

"meeting with a dealer, there's a big order coming in soon, i needed the final details."

after finding out what mark did for a living, you spent an unhealthy amount of time scoring the internet for any trail of him. he had mentioned others he worked with, and you suspected the two men you had seen him with would be part of that. you weren't a computer expert, but you had managed to access the security cameras pointing at the club. playing it in reverse and speeding it up, you watched yourself walk backwards into the club, the door swinging open on its own.

it took a while, but you finally found mark's face, accompanied by three other boys. they looked slightly younger than mark, only seeing glimpses of their faces on the screen. caramel hair falling over honey skin, the shortest one made direct eye contact with the camera, as if he knew you were watching. your heart stopped momentarily. the tallest boy had dark brown hair with sharp eyes and harsh jawline. he was whispering into the last boy's ear as they walked out of the club. the last boy looked the happiest, an easy-going smile accompanied and perfectly coiffed blonde hair, two strands of blue framing his face. you committed their faces to memory, determined to find out more about the boy you met at the party.

a/n: i wanna do some nct one-shots but i’m not really sure what about, so send in requests! as always, thank you so much for reading!

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