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writerwrites · 4 years

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Will You Hold On My Love

Pairing: Frank Adler x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to be his rebound and you were supposed to go it alone, so why are you both holding on for dear life?

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death and sex but neither are written in. Cancer, general sads and fluff. Really, it’s just a fic about two people wanting nice things and life being life, so take that as you will.

A/N: *THIS IS A ONE SHOT* This is the Week 5 prompt to the Optimistic Captain Donut Challenge [due a decade ago oops] created by @captainchrisbaby, @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho , and @donutloverxo … The Week 5 Prompt was based on the gif below and Where Do Lovers Go by Ghostly Kisses | Dividers by the talented @whimsicalrogers

You’d met at tipping points in a bar, one drink in a piece.

Frank and Bonnie were done, the whole town knew about it except you. You were minding your own business really, you had your own problems and the last thing you needed was it spread all over town like the half-dozen sob stories tied to the Adler family. Everyone had problems, some more than others, and you’d been determined to be an empathetic decent human being the first time someone tried to spread Frank’s business into your general direction. It was your innate ability to gently veer a conversation away from drama that had made you pleasantly forgettable to every friend group you were a part of. It also happened to be the reason you were sat in a drab local bar on a Thursday evening spending an obnoxious amount of quarters to play Sonnet by The Verve on repeat like you could convince the whole three people in there that your favorite band was more than a one hit wonder. Then he sat next to you and everything changed...

“If you play it one more time, then you owe me a drink.” Frank Adler, who hadn’t spoken to you since grade school, now sat next to you in the bar at the edge of town. You watched him pick up a quarter, spinning it with his thumb and pointer, and watching it spin and stop before repeating two more times before the song repeated, “All right, you owe me a Guinness.”

With a nod to the bartender, you held up two fingers and he did just that. As you brought the beer to your lips, you hummed the song and he watched you with the slightest curve to his lips. “What? Can’t a girl play a song on repeat to get it out of her head?”

“Oh? Is that what you’re doing?” He tilted the bottle back, the tone one of obvious doubt. “I thought people were supposed to reserve that sort of behavior to their bathrooms with a bottle of wine?”

Somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, already smiling a little as you pretended to take offense. Frank was right, most people kept that depressing blubbering to themselves, but you knew that with the news you’d gotten the last thing you should be doing tonight was sitting alone. “Nope, but did you really come in here tonight to listen to a stranger’s problems or did you come to forget your own.”

“Touché.” You followed his lead, chugging back your drinks and slamming them to the sticky bartop. He slipped off the stool and tossed a few bills to the counter, no pretense, and you did the same, albeit with a little less grace in your descent. With a nod of appreciation to the bartender before grabbing your things, you followed the tall blonde out of the bar and tried to ignore the knowing glances from the few patrons left behind. It wasn’t until the crisp autumn air nipped at your ears that Frank spoke again. “You’re not a stranger. I remember you from school.”

“Well, neither of us are who we used to be. Safer to assume we’re stranger-adjacent then. As The Verve would say, All this talk of getting old, it’s getting me down…” You winked and he shook his head. “How many are you in? Are you good to drive?” His shrug left you unconvinced. “I’m a Bud Light and Guinness in- on a whole dinner, so I’m fine. I’ll drive.”

Frank’s stormy blue eyes glanced toward his truck and he pursed his lips before rocking on his heels and following you, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he followed you. There was a sense of relief in not having to bicker with a man about the subject. You didn’t know that it was his every intention to stick to his usual coping strategy: easy lay, slipping out with Mary as an excuse the second the sex was over. Frank Adler had mastered the art of escape and now that Mary was thirteen and more than capable of handling herself, those escapes typically led right back to another bar. It wasn’t actually about being there for Mary, it was about feeling something, even if it was temporary. Somehow, in some cavern in the back of both of your minds, in the comfortable silence of the car ride where he reached over and surprised you by taking your hand in his, there seemed to be some unspoken decision to not make a mess of this.

God, you wanted to tell him. When you woke up to him fast asleep, long lashes casting small shadows on his sun kissed cheekbones as the late morning light licked at his skin through your bedroom window. His chest pressed close into your side, his legs tangled in yours, and his calloused fingers stretched across the expanse of your ribs like you were something small when in reality he simply dwarfed you. This stung, the ache to wake him up and be as honest as the pair of you had been last night. He’d put you on a pedestal and worshiped you. You’d called out his name and praised him as he gave you everything you asked for. Your skin covered in goosebumps just thinking about the night you two had shared and how scared you were for wanting more of it. Bottle it up and enjoy the moment, you told yourself in misery, scrunching your eyes shut and pinching your nose with the hand that had been absentmindedly stroking his dark blonde hair.

It was that withdrawal of your warmth that woken Frank up from the deepest sleep he’d had in the weeks since his breakup. Mornings had been the hardest for him because he’d gotten used to Bonnie’s dark curls draped across his pillow. It was harder still when Bonnie’s side of the bed no longer smelled of her. It was Mary’s logic that had pulled him out of the breakup stupor, but it hadn’t stopped Frank from falling into some old promiscuous habits. At least he’d thought he’d tapered off and found some routine in the monotony of distractions and the routine of a quick slip out. Now as his steely blue-gray eyes opened there was a brief moment of panic that followed that sleepy cling for the body he’d been holding.

Two months later and it all seemed too pleasant and rushed, too crazy to ruin. Yet you knew this was what it was, you making the most of the final moments and Frank getting over an ex. You knew it because you reminded yourself of that every time you caught yourself smiling over the little things because if you were really being honest with yourself it was two months of selfishness. Now, as you and Mary were making pancakes together while Frank laid out under the sink repairing the disposal, it was Mary that cornered the two of you. It happened with a bang- literally. “So, is this a grown up thing to not call each other boyfriend and girlfriend or are you two just being weirdos?”

The bag of flour slipped from your hands and clocked Frank right in his package causing his body to lurch forward and his head to hit every surface under the sink. As he groaned in pain, you tried to form the ‘right’ words, knowing that there weren’t any. “Oh, we’ve never been on an actual date…” Your words were slow, drawn out and delicate as you cautiously picked up the flour. Tapping his thigh with your foot you looked at the body of the man who’d given you a slice of happiness you didn’t expect to find in a bar and certainly didn’t feel like you deserved. “You okay down there?”

In usual form, he emerged covered in grease and grime, wiping his hands on a dingy old handkerchief that had been tucked in his pocket. He looked at you after wiping the sweat from his forehead onto his forearm and then over to Mary who stood akimbo. “Is this a setup?”

Mary crossed her arms, a stern look that you’d seen on Frank only a few times but found it completely recognizable and amusing. You pressed you lips into a line . “I didn’t think it needed to be.”

If you hadn’t been guilt stricken then you would’ve laughed at the tone of her voice bordering an abuelita waving a chancla. Instead, you watched him get up with his beautiful eyes watching you the whole way up. “Frank, you don’t have to say anything. I’m happy with this, just as it is.” You glanced at Mary, her arms still crossed, her expression wholly unconvinced. “I… I don’t want to be held responsible for anyone getting hurt.” The confused expression on Frank’s face was fleeting, maybe it wasn’t confusion or a twinge of hurt, but it made you try to rephrase yourself, trying to play it up in a sweet way and trying to convince him that this was about you- not him or Mary. “I can’t have anyone falling in love with me.”

The last thing you expected to hear was for Mary to snark out a defiant, “Too late for that.”

You told yourself you had to pick up your jaw, but you couldn’t because Frank was looking at you with that face he made when he woke up next to you… your favorite face. The crooked smile that was almost boyish and the crinkled eyes that you swore were just age and tiredness, but now you knew the truth, it was something else, something more. Your heart was racing, your mouth went dry and you tried to form the words of warning as your legs gave out beneath you and you collapsed into Frank’s arms.

Time was a funny thing, spinning in and out of consciousness you caught conversations and yet couldn’t recall which order they’d happened or where they were happening, nor could you discern how long the vast nothingness between those glimmers of consciousness seemed to be.

The first seemed obvious, sinking into your bones like the cancer that consumed you. The pain of Frank’s voice as he tried to throttle you awake. The timbre of his voice shifting from teasing amusement to legitimate worry. You could still feel his warm calloused hands on your cheeks followed by the cool droplets of water he’d splashed on you to try and wake you up. It worked just enough for you to say, “No doctors.”

Secrets seemed to unravel from there as you faded in and out, coming round to hear the beeping of machines or a man racked with heavy sobs. There was some relief in being a familiar face in this small town’s hospital. The familiar voice of your oncologist telling Frank that rules meant Frank couldn’t be told anything but that he could stay. Mary came and went, too. It was her small hands braiding your hair that woke you up on an early afternoon. The blinds were pulled wide open and your dry lips cracked as you smiled and tried to talk. “You look like an angel with all that snow behind you.”

Mary perked up at the sound of your voice and she leaned over your shoulder and rested her cheek against yours as she looked where you were. “It’s not real, it’s left over Christmas decorations. I wanted you to have a Winter Wonderland. It was so boring here. Hold on!”

You wondered if she’s had conversations with you while she’d waited for you to wake up or if you’d only been out a day or two because she seemed so unbothered by you forming your first words in what you would soon learn were three weeks. Mary pulled the blinds closed and climbed over a bench that had blankets and pillows folded on the end, a clear indication that Frank had been there with you for at least a night. When Mary emerged the room twinkled with fairy lights. “Wow, Mary! I love it so much.” You blinked away the fresh sting of tears. “Aren’t you a thoughtful angel.”

“I wanted it to be nice for you and Frank when you two picked up your last conversation.” A little wicked smirk drew across her lips and you waved her over to the bed and patted the blanket. Her smile fell just a little as she picked at the chipped nail polish on her fingers. “He told me not to look at the charts and the board or the machines, but I did and then I asked a teacher about what I found on Google and…” She let out a long, weary sigh. “I think you two still need to tell each other the truth.”

It seemed right, like you owed Frank an explanation, but the reality of the situation was that when you got your post-treatment update you’d not even uttered this truth to yourself. It was just something tucked in your head, a bomb, slowly ticking away. Frank walked in, purple bags of exhaustion around his eyes, and he still lit up the room with a smile the second he saw you were awake. His long legs took just a couple of steps and he was next to you on the hospital bed. Mary took the snacks from his hands and slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her and you had no doubt that she was already standing guard outside it. Wasting no time, you tried to apologize to him, “Frank, I want to say that I’m so-” Your heart ached with the regret of keeping this secret from him.

His lips crashed to yours before you could finish, absolutely no regard to the chalky taste of sleep on your mouth. When pulled away satisfied, Frank hushed you just millimeters from lips before going back in for another softer kiss- the familiar kind he’d taken to sneaking in when he walked past you from one room to the next. “Tell me the truth. Tell me it’ll be all right.”

This was exactly what you didn’t want, someone begging for you to give them what you knew you couldn’t. Your hands covered his as he desperately held your face and your eyes fell to his lips and the scruff along his jaw as you found yourself debilitated by his hopefulness. To say you were incapable of meeting those bright blue eyes without falling apart was an understatement. Your small fingers brushed across the familiar scars and calluses on his hands as you tried to think of the right thing to say. “I think we got our ‘all right’ already, Adler. I wish it could give you more, but I really stayed for you and Mary, so selfishly, for as long as I could.”

“I read the chart,” Frank swallowed, but you heard the tension tight in his throat as he tried to keep his voice even, “No one would tell me anything and I didn’t know what else to do just sitting here waiting for you to come back to me.” That sense of ownership surprised you, not because you didn’t want it, but because you’d been alone for so long… well before you got sick. As you cleared your throat to try and speak, he kept going. “You somehow made it longer than they thought, didn’t you? That’s why they were running so many tests, isn’t it?” Keeping your eyes from his, you didn’t need to look at him to know that Frank wasn’t necessarily asking you for answers. “Maybe that means you’re healthier than they realized and they could put you in a trial?”

“Frank, I’ve been right here the whole time.” Instead of focusing on the future, you focused on the present. Attempting to reassure him, you turned your cheek into his palm and placed a soft kiss there. This level of affection had been strictly reserved for sleepy mornings and movie nights, they’d become your favorite memories. “I felt everything, even heard you sometimes…” Resting your head into the curve of his neck, you ignored the painful tug of wires and tubes as he held you close. “I wanted to tell you, but I thought it would be over by now.” The ‘it’ wasn’t just the one night stand that had turned into feelings at about the same rate your cancer had come back, no you thought you would’ve passed on by now. The truth, it was what stuck in your head and kept you frozen there tucked in his arms, but he wanted more and you knew Frank deserved it. So, when Frank tugged gently on your shoulders and tilted your chin up, you mustered up the courage to not only speak but to meet his gaze. “A month, that was all I was supposed to get the night I tortured you with The Verve in our bar.”

To your surprise Frank listened without interrupting or asking a single question and it helped you explain yourself, why you never talked about this because, as you two crossed from strangers to friends, you knew he didn’t deserve the pain. Those secrets that were whispered about him around town that you had shut out were shared, with time, on his own. Frank had no idea that in those quiet back and forth exchanges that you had held in the one thing that would change everything. “You could’ve told me. I’m not mad… I just want to understand.”

The truth, the weight you carried in silence. The truth, it poured from you now, albeit unwillingly, and you hoped he wouldn’t carry it for you. Maybe a part of you knew he would because that’s what he always did. You’d never met another person so selfless. When you wondered if he understood, wondered if he knew just how stolen their time was, you bit into your lip and tried to explain it one more time. “I got lucky, but this is it, Adler. I was the walking definition of terminal lucidity and, God, I’m thankful I got my rally with you.” Just stringing along those words, the explanation, you were breathless. “I’m not walking out of this hospital.”

As you watched the painful reality set in, you also watched Frank’s jaw tighten. “If you really want to get out of here, if you don’t want to die in this room, will you do me one thing?” Confused, you nodded, feeling like you owed him but weary of what he’d ask. Frank smiled softly, only furthering your worry that he’d bring up a trial again. “I want you to come home with Mary and I.”

Hesitation laced his name as you shook your head ‘no’, repeating it over, “Frank, no. I can’t put that on you and Mary.” There wasn’t much space to pull away, your weak frame falling back onto the stiff mattress of the hospital bed.

“You already promised and I don’t think we have enough time for the kind of promises I would’ve liked to make.” Frank reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, even in that moment looking somewhat mischievous.

“Oh yeah, and what were those plans?” You closed your eyes, tired and curious, but not wanting to look at him and be upset by the mutual stubbornness both of you bore.

“‘Til death do we part.” His warm breath hovered over your face and you scrunched your nose at his dark humor, but he wasn’t laughing. You opened your eyes to find him looking at you with an expression of impatience, “I mean it, come home and let me love you for whatever time we’ve got left.”

“Say it again.” You sighed, processing what he’d said and wondering if he’d meant it.

“Come home.”

Reaching out, you playfully nudged his shoulder. “No, the other bit.”

Looking into each other’s eyes, you wondered if the word had slipped from his lips by mistake, but that mischievous smile reached his eyes and Frank leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he said it one more time with confidence, “I love you.”

It wasn’t easy for the doctors, who knew you so well, to let you leave their care. Just like it wasn’t easy for you to give up your dwindling independence or to let Frank and Mary take care of you when you knew you’d brought death to their home. But nothing seemed to change with them, they forgave you for your secret and kept on with the silly breakfasts and morning cuddles; the popcorn at the home cinema nights. Mary kept you close, shared everything with you and listened to any story you were willing to tell. Frank held you together as you fell apart, carrying you from room to room so that you could still enjoy the silly things you’d been enjoying together all along. That was the only change, you becoming weak, fading from them. Neither of you became truth-spilling emotional lovers or bitter about the end. No, he wouldn’t leave you with that last memory. Instead, he put on some music and sat by your side, whispering a vow of love that was more than some overpriced ceremony and a piece of paper could provide. And when you were gone, you never really were. A person the world should have forgotten, tucked away and carried in two hearts long after you departed this world.

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#captainsweeklychallenge #frank adler x reader #frank adler x you #frank adler x y/n #fic: frank adler #writer: writerwrites

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griddleharkakalockedtombbrainrot · 2 years

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The Griddlehark Reincarnation Fic that My Ass Is Too Lazy To Write Properly

Everyone who’s read my ramblings in other fandoms knows that I am a slut for reincarnation fics. I think it’s the blend of angst I can have while also picking up the pieces at the end and giving people a happy ending. So, I posit this idea for consideration: in a very fucked up series of events that starts due to the general misunderstandings that plague Gideon and Harrow, Harrow thinks that Gideon is in love with Coronabeth.

Because Harrow canonically hates herself and generally assumes no one could possibly genuinely love her, she concludes that this was inevitable. After all, she’s a monster, made up of two hundred screaming souls of the Ninth, and in another universe, Gideon could have been one more. Gideon has died and suffered because of her. It was only a matter of time before she realized she could do better. It doesn’t mean that seeing Corona on Gideon’s arm doesn’t hurt, but Harrow has concluded that sometimes, if you love someone, it’s best to let them go. For once in her life, Harrow has decided to let go. If it means Gideon is happy, she’ll find a way to cope. Because at least this way, she’ll know Gideon is alive, and thriving in a way the Ninth never allowed her to do. The only thing standing in the way of Gideon being happy is Harrow. She knows that as long as she remains in the picture, Gideon will stay, because she’s infuriating and loyal like that. So the only thing to do is step out of the picture.

Meanwhile, Gideon is literally just trying to get advice on how to sweep Harrow off her feet. Corona is loving this, and Ianthe is in the background being bitchy and giving shitty advice that Gideon will take under absolutely no circumstances. Palamedes is like, “For fuck’s sake, just talk to her!” But, well...it’s Gideon and Harrow. These two have no idea how to communicate like functional people because they grew up on the Ninth, the place where love and normal healthy emotions go to die. But now God is dead, and they’re all trying to establish a new order, and the only thing Gideon is even remotely certain of is that she wants to be with Harrow.

Abigail can tell that Harrow is heading towards a bad headspace. She didn’t spend all that time interrupting AUs for nothing. While Gideon is getting shitty advice, Abigail is watching Harrow withdraw from everyone, and she knows something bad is going to happen. “Gideon, dear, when was the last time you spoke to Harrowhark?”

“Umm...”

“You should consider speaking to her, and soon.”

“Why, is she okay?” Gideon is suddenly on high alert, and reaches for the bond, only to find that Harrow has walled her off. “What...?! She’s blocked me out!”

“She’s been pulling away recently.”

“Shit!” Gideon races towards the rooms that have somehow become “their space.” Harrow’s side of the space is empty for the first time since they started sharing these quarters. Books are carefully put away, notes and papers tucked neatly into notebooks, stacked to be out of the way. Harrow’s bed has been stripped, and for all intents and purposes, her belongings have been packed up. Gideon was already starting to panic before this, but now there’s no holding it back. “Harrow!”

She tears through hallways, shouting for her necromancer. Any minute now, she keeps hoping she’ll see Harrow’s painted face glowering at her around the next corner, hands on her hips, and saying, “For fuck’s sake, Griddle! Quit making such a racket!” But she never does.

Eventually, she’s turned the place upside down looking for her necromancer, and she can’t breathe. The last time Harrow disappeared like this, she found her unconscious in a bone cocoon. The last time Harrow disappeared like this, they were both in the wrong bodies, and Harrow’s soul was nowhere to be found. Gideon can’t stomach losing her again.

“Ninth.” Gideon turns to find Camilla Hect striding towards her, holding out an envelope with her name written across it in Harrow’s scrawl. Gideon can’t help but recall the last time she received an envelope with that scrawl. But she still reaches out and takes it, her heart climbing up into her throat. With shaking hands, she opens it.

Gideon:

If you’re reading this, then I am gone. Do not look for me. You will not find me where I’m going. We both know that this is how it was always going to end. The Emperor, the Necrolord Prime, is gone, and the universe is a different place now. You are free of the Ninth House. Perhaps more importantly, you are free of me. I’m not good with feelings, Nav. You know that. The only thing the Ninth ever taught us is that emotion is weakness and will be our ruin. For me, perhaps that was correct. Then again, I am an abomination. You, Griddle, are not. The strength of your heart is the reason I am still here after all this time. Make no mistake: the Nine Houses were saved because of you. We got out bodies back because of you. Sextus is alive again because of you. I may have held the power, but none of it would have been possible if you had not insisted that it must be done. I meant it when I said that you were the best of us.

Because you are the best of us, it is only fair to say that I am the worst of us, and because of that, I must let you go. I meant it when I said that I am undone without you, that I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it. I love you, Gideon. I love you as much as something like me can be said to love anyone. But you are life, and I am death. We nearly destroyed each other as children, and my actions at Canaan House nearly doomed you. I then compounded that sin when I sought to save you by erasing you from my memory. Instead, I nearly damned both of us. You saved us. You stormed the River and woke me from my complacent slumber, and you fought God and won. I fear that if I do not let you go, I will destroy you. So, Gideon: I ask that you let me go, and I will also let you go. I ask forgiveness for everything that lies between us, for all of the pain that both my House and I caused you.

You deserve happiness, Gideon, and I hope you find it with Coronabeth. I wish you joy beyond imagination, and I wish you peace.

“What the fuck?” Gideon looks up from the letter. “Did you read this?”

“No. What does it say?” Camilla’s eyes are narrowed, flitting between the paper Gideon is crushing in her hand and Gideon’s face, which is filled with terror.

“Fucking hell, Nonagesimus!” Gideon’s eyes are desperate. “Have you seen her today?”

“No. Ninth, what the hell is happening?”

“I fucked up, Cam, that’s what happened.” Gideon’s breaths are shallow and coming in panicked gasps. “She’s leaving, and I don’t know where she’s going...”

Pain spears up behind her eyes, white hot, and she feels something tear in her soul. She forgets to breathe, and her vision goes grey.

She comes to with Palamedes hovering over her, face drawn. “Sex Pal,” she croaks. She looks around for her necromancer. Harrow has to be somewhere nearby...she’s always close when Gideon wakes up feeling like this. She frowns in confusion as she glances around the room and can’t catch a glimpse of black robes or a painted face. She reaches for the bond and...nothing. Just a ragged, torn emptiness where once there was Harrow.

Palamedes watches her gravely, seeming to know what, or rather who, she’s looking for. “I’m sorry, Ninth,” he says, and his voice is so compassionate that Gideon wants to scream. And his next words shatter whatever’s left of her: “She’s gone.”

***

The explanation comes to her in bits and pieces through the fog of pain that settles over her. Harrow left her. She’d seen her with Corona in a...compromising position (Corona had been draped on top of her, explaining how best to get a shy person into bed), and had concluded that Gideon was in love with the Princess of the Third House. And she’d decided to step down gracefully rather than raging as she had in the past. Because somehow, she’d believed that Gideon didn’t love her. Hell, Gideon had died for her, had fought the River itself to get her back, had killed God because he hurt her, and her fucking stupid ass had still thought Gideon would choose Corona. And so she’d gone to the deepest, cruelest part of the River and let it take her and rip her apart. The pain before she’d passed out had been Harrow dying.

While she’d been running about like a fucking idiot, Harrow had been seeking her death, because she’d somehow managed to miss the fact that she was Gideon’s reason for living. Now she was gone.

The first few weeks are a blur. Gideon spends all of them in bed, alternating between gut wrenching nightmares of Harrow in the River, surrounded by revenants with Alecto’s face, being ripped apart and making no move to fight back and dreams of Harrow walking away from her, with her being helpless to stop it. She wakes from all of them screaming Harrow’s name. She’s vaguely aware of Camilla or Palamedes trying to get her to eat, of Abigail trying to do something to ease the pain of the broken soul bond, but none of it matters. Harrow is gone.

Finally, Camilla has had enough. Somehow, she manages to force Gideon out of bed and into the sonic, forces her to eat, and generally bullies her into living again. “You don’t stop living because she’s dead,” she snaps. “She wanted you to live, so that’s what you’re going to do.”

Eventually, Gideon goes to the banks of the River, despite everyone else saying she shouldn’t. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for. It’s not like Harrow will be waiting for her. She sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see Alecto.

“What do you want?” she asks bitterly. The last thing she wants is to speak with the now living form of Harrow’s only true love. It’s bad enough that Harrow went off and died and left her: she really doesn’t want to to deal with Alecto on top of it.

“She loved you, you know,” Alecto’s voice is quiet. “When she stepped into the reincarnation cycle, she did it because she wanted you to live without what she saw as her interference.”

Reincarnation? “I thought her soul was destroyed.”

“Oh, it was. But then it was rebuilt. Eventually, she’ll be reborn as someone entirely new.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“When she stepped into the reincarnation cycle, she ceased to be Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Those two hundred souls and that spark of self that made Harrowhark herself were all separated and allowed to do as fate wills it. But that spark lives on, and will eventually come back into the world.” Seeing Gideon’s face, Alecto states, firmly: “She will never again be the Harrowhark you knew. There will be differences. But that core spark will remain.”

“How long will it take?”

“Oh, it could happen in six months or a thousand years. There’s no real way to know. John always tended to micromanage, but we know how that ended.”

Gideon turns back to face the River, searching the waters for a glimpse of Harrow. Could she find a way to love another version of Harrow? Could she love a Harrow that wasn’t a wicked little bone witch?

Yes, yes, I can. At her core, Harrow was a stubborn, proud, temperamental genius. There’s no way that will change. But could she wait? Could she wait for Harrow to be born anew while knowing that her Harrow, the one she had loved and hated in equal measure, often all at once, was gone? Yes, she decides. She can live with changes, as long as Harrow is out there somewhere.

***

A thousand years pass. We’ll say for the sake of plot that Palamedes, Camilla, Gideon, and the rest of the main cast somehow became immortal. They have a tentative peace with Blood of Eden, and necromancy has slowly phased out in favor of other types of magic. Gideon is in charge or at least in some position of power. Maybe there’s a school where people go to learn necromancy’s more stable offshoots and everyone spends a lot of time there. One day, a petite, slender girl with a face that is a dead ringer for Harrow’s shows up. Except this face has never seen facepaint, and her hair is long, flowing down to her waist. She’s a healer, stern and reserved, but soft in a way she never was before. Gideon knows her soul instantly, but after a thousand years of waiting, she’s afraid one wrong move will cause her to lose Harrow all over again.

For her part, the reincarnated Harrow feels drawn to the General who is said to have been around for over a thousand years. Those golden eyes feel strangely familiar, but there’s a sadness in them that part of her says shouldn’t be there. She’s also heard the whispers that the General loved someone, but that person left her over a misunderstanding, leaving her heartbroken. As she gets closer to Gideon, Harrow falls more deeply in love, but hesitates to admit it, because after all, Gideon loves someone who’s been gone for a thousand years. Pal needs a drink.

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrow nonagesimus #gideon nav #fanfiction #reincarnation fic #writing #i need help

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ghoste-catte · 3 years

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G, Q & T! ♥

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it?

Ohhhh, the halcyon days of my youth ... My veryvery first OTP was Merry and Pippin from Lord of the Rings. A friend introduced me to the concept of fanfiction because her big sister was really into it, and I very quickly went from “well this is weird” to “actually I love this”. My entire justification for shipping them was pretty much “they’re my two faves”, lol. In my defense, I was in like seventh grade and the LOTR movies had just come out (dating myself here), and my friends and I were all absolutely obsessed with them. Like, watching all the deleted scenes and actor commentary ... it was a whole thing. Anyway, that was back in the day where a lot of content was scattered across people’s private websites, various LiveJournal communities, and (gag) fanfiction.net. So it was really hard to find content, which there wasn’t a lot of for that ship to begin with, and I pretty quickly moved on to other ships and fandoms.

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why

I used to be a huuuuuge WolfStar (Remus x Sirius from Harry Potter) shipper. That was back when the Harry Potter books were still actively being published (between books 3 and 5 I believe), and there was so much content, which I absolutely soaked up like a sponge. I can’t really say why I moved on from it. I just sort of gravitated to other fandoms after the last book, I guess. I’ve occasionally dipped back in to see if I could catch some of that spark again because, genuinely, my obsession with them was consuming--I read so much fic, I made art, I make mixes, I made collages on the floor of my bedroom--but I just haven’t ever been able to really recapture it. And of course in recent years, canon has left an increasingly sour taste in my mouth, so it’s hard for me to imagine returning to it.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

My headcanons are generally pretty flexible? I sort of start out fresh and new with each story and build around what I want the story to be about, rather than having a preestablished fanon world in my head. Hell, I bend canon to fit my needs all the time too.

The one thing I would say I really, really feel strongly about is that interpreting Gaara’s violent childhood as the result of schizophrenia in modern/non-Naruto AUs is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character and the nature of his mental health in canon. Gaara does not experience psychosis in canon. He has neither the positive (hallucinations, delusions) nor the negative symptoms (withdrawal, self-neglect, catatonia) of schizophrenia. He is perfectly aware of the division between reality and his own thoughts, it’s simply that what is going on around and within him is, y’know, magic bullshit. If anything, he’s too firmly immersed in the pain of his reality to the point that it’s inescapable for him and the only way he can cope with it is through externalizing. And using the fact that he had a literal demon sealed inside him and that he was an extrajudicial murderer as a teen (because all the Naruto characters are murderers, really, it’s just a matter of whether or not that murder is sanctioned by the state) is just ... a gross misinterpretation of both what Gaara went through and why he was the way he was AND what schizophrenia is at the same time. Plus it plays into very nasty, very ableist tropes about people with psychosis being violent and murderous, especially when the AU has Shukaku manifesting as a command hallucination that makes Gaara hurt people. I can be sold on a lot of different mental health issues as a modern OR canon interpretation of Gaara’s experiences (and I’ve written him with a variety of different struggles in my own fics), and I’m not wholly opposed even to him having psychotic symptoms, as long as the line isn’t drawn from “he has psychosis” to “and that’s why he hurt people as a child/teenager”.

fandom meme: come at me friend!

#ask meme #answered #baphometsss

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helenamayhathaway · 4 years

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I don’t think I’ve ever really talked about my problem with obsessions or hyperfixations and I don’t know why I’m about to talk about it now. I’m a mentally ill person, that’s not a secret but due to this I have issues with becoming so irrevocably attached to things that being without it depresses me unfathomably. Even just thinking about how much I love something can depress me. It’s really uncomfortable, it’s physically debilitating to experience because I can love a band, a show, whatever SO MUCH that I experience panic attacks and withdrawal from thinking about how imperfect or fleeting that something is. Like, it’s unhealthy and I know it’s unhealthy but I can’t prevent it because that is what my mind does, like I can’t stop this any more than I can stop being asthmatic.

The feeling of something fleeting even when it hasn’t happened yet, it feels like the loss of a loved one and it’s scary. I don’t want to feel this way but I do. It’s never over things I can touch, though, it’s not people I know, experiences I have, it’s unattainable things like a band. I don’t want this to make you believe that I’m dangerous or anything, I don’t have any feelings of possession or violence or stalking, I’m not about to go kill a celebrity because I love them too much, I just bind myself to something so irrevocably that I can’t detach from it. It’s internal, it’s about wanting something forever but knowing that it ISN’T forever.

I’ve had this problem for as long as I can remember. When MCR broke up, I wasn’t just depressed, I literally felt like someone I loved died. It was a major spiral, I literally felt like dying. Actually, one of the reasons I started writing MCR fics was as a coping mechanism for this. I needed so much to have MCR that I had to create it or else I’d lose myself.

The thought of losing something hurts me and physically taxes me. Dan Howell hasn’t made a YouTube video in a year and a half and the thought of him not returning, of this feeling of fleeting, makes me so depressed that I cannot get out of bed sometimes. It’s tiny, and I think other people would see this as some juvenile sort of obsession but it’s not that, it’s my ADHD and bipolar disorder crippling me through hyperfixations that I can’t stop or hold back.

I’m trying to find a new therapist, I haven’t seen one since I moved away from my one back home. I think my problem is getting worse. You might have noticed my new obsession with BTS... it’s not healthy. I KNOW it’s not healthy. I’m constantly in pain over something “as stupid” as the fact that it’s fleeting. Someday, I will lose this band like I lost MCR, like I might have lost Dan Howell.

I’m just hurting a lot. I’m in a lot of pain. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

#i dont know why im telling you about this #i just am having a hard time today #thinking about bts and realizing that everything ends #even when its not a person its just a goddamn band and it hurts me more than i can deacribe

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saltpepperbeard · 6 years

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Begin Again ~A Joshifer One-Shot~

A/N: Well hello everyone! Been some time since I’ve talked to you all through an author’s note, hasn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m just as surprised as you are lol. Yes yes, I know Joshifer has become quite the irrelevant ship lately, with hardly anything going on anymore. But every time I come back to Tumblr, I always somehow manage to get a bit of that shipping spark rekindled. And I guess lately, the spark was so strong that an entire fanfiction came out of it lol!

Fanfiction has always been my way of dealing with things/interpreting real life events differently. With that being said, this is kind of my take on what could be happening behind the scenes. Yes yes naysayers, it’s unlikely, but I absolutely adore exploring the big “WHAT IF” lol.

So after a literal...what has it been, two year gap? I decided to go and get very trashy again! And I do hope you’ll give this a read, even after all this time. I’m dragging as many of you down into the dumpster with me again as I can lol! I hope you all enjoy it, and you’ll have to excuse any errors; I tried to do a typo sweep but I’m also really eager to just get this out for everyone!

Disclaimer: This fic contains mature themes such as strong language and sensuality.

And without further adooooooo....

Begin Again

It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since I traversed these shores, since I created unforgettable memories, since I established relationships I thought would stand the test of time. But just like the sand beneath my feet being carried by each passing wave, I guess everything gets swept away eventually.

A heavy sigh passes through my nose, coupled with a bitter sweet smile playing across my features. Now I know why I never ventured back to this beach, despite staying in Oahu numerous times. It’s just a little too damn nostalgic- dare I say depressing, even. It’s almost like new memories flood in with every passing step.

I can almost hear the voices of the production crew talking and laughing against the waves, the atmosphere of filming a movie still lingering from many years ago. I can picture sitting in the warm Hawaiian sun with my fellow cast mates, taking breaks and cracking jokes between takes. And of course, I can practically see my best friends sitting beside me, constantly laughing and furthering what I thought would be an unbreakable bond.

I guess time has a way of changing things.

The now-emptiness of the beach is a rather painful reminder of the direction things have gone, everyone going their separate ways. We all tried to keep in touch. We really did. But the industry was a roaring wave that crashed around us, and prevented us from communicating well. What went from texts and calls multiple times a week quickly dwindled to a few times per month. And it’s gotten even more sporadic sense then.

I kick the sand with a foot, sighing as I feel my heart sinking deeper into my chest. It never really occurred to me how much I actually miss everyone. But I do. I miss working with them. I miss being with them. I miss everything we had going.

A rogue thought, a triggering memory, begins to snake around me like a piece of damp seaweed, and I attempt to brush it off as I continue my literal walk down memory lane. It grips tighter and tighter however, threatening to completely overtake my subconscious the further I stroll down the soft white sands.

I grit my teeth and give my head a shake, attempting to literally rattle the images out of my head. Maybe it was sadistic of me to come out here. I knew damn well it was going to open up a plethora of memories. And yet I felt some kind of strange urge, some kind of draw to walk down memory lane again. It’s not so much thinking about filming that hurts though. It’s...

I shut my eyes tightly, bringing both hands up to brush backwards against my head. I can start to hear a twinkling, unmistakable laugh on the breeze. I can start to smell a scent that makes me at home amidst the salty air. I can start to feel warm hands on my shoulders, rivaling that of sun above.

Jesus Christ.

“Sad, Josh. Real sad.”

Why the hell did I come out here. I haven’t thought about her that way in months, years. I’ve attempted to move on from her, to push everything about her to the back of my brain. And here I am instantly dredging it all up again.

“No. I’m over her. I’m over her, I’m over her, I’m over her...”

I internally repeat the saying as a mantra, a constant stream of words to hopefully override the trespassing thoughts and feelings. Because I am. What she and I had died years ago. She and I have gone down our own paths like everyone else. Sure, we might have had something almost going at a point, but not anymore. She chose her own way of life, and I chose mine.

Definitely over her.

Fuck, I really need to get off this beach. It’s like some sort of sick rip current, pulling me back into the mindset I had years ago. It’s replacing all the steps I’ve taken forward with a good ten or so steps back. It’s reverting me right back to the lovesick, desperate persona I tried so hard to rid myself of on countless occasions.

My jaw clenches tightly, an outward sign of the emotions building up within me. God, I swear, she’s like a drug to me. I know thinking about her now doesn’t do me any good. I know there’s nothing really I can do about our current relationship. But that never really seems to put a permanent stop to her repeatedly nudging her way back into my life again.

It probably doesn’t help that I’m walking the same shores where my feelings really peaked for her. This is where I felt something intense for her so long ago, something I truthfully haven’t felt with anyone else, something that’s always made me feel guilty in the relationships that followed. I think that’s why she’s so incredibly hard to shake, so incredibly hard to fully rid myself of.

Because she was like...a part of me back then. She awakened a part of me I didn’t even realize I had. And I suppose once we established that deep of a connection, once we gave each other our everything, there was no erasing it. She placed a piece of herself in the inner most part of my heart.

I suddenly snap myself out of it with a hard sigh, grinding my teeth together as the pain peaks and wanes. How sadistic must I be to continue standing out here when I know damn well what the consequences are. I came to Oahu to relax like I always do. I didn’t come out here to leave feeling worse than when I arrived.

Finally, I get some semblance of self-control back, and with one last look towards the old stomping grounds, I start back towards the semi-hidden path to get off the beach. But Jesus, it’s like the place is one side of a magnet with myself as the other, because it tugs me back with a beckoning call on the wind...Something that eerily sounds just like...

“........Josh?”

I stop short and whip my head from side to side. Nothing but the sand and sea on either side, with the dense Hawaiian forest before me. I conclude that I must really be losing my mind, and with a hard blink, I pick up my pace to walk away.

“Josh...”

There it is again, this time more distinguishable, and all too familiar. It’s enough to roll a shudder down my spine, and almost enough to draw moisture into my eyes. Yeah no, I definitely don’t need my brain playing this severe of tricks on me. It’s a signal to leave and not return for a long time. But every inch of my body, every ounce of my soul, halts completely at the clarity, the urgency, the unmistakable tone that floods my ears.

“Joshua.”

It’s firm. It’s confused. It’s impossible to ignore. It’s beautiful. It’s-

Turning slowly around almost causes me to white out, what with my heart stopping and restarting itself numerous times in my chest.

It’s real.

I stand there, completely frozen, completely agape, still trying to process what I’m seeing. There still might be the chance that this is all some sort of stupid hallucination, some sort of withdrawal type thing. But then I’m meeting her eyes, looking into a deep blue ocean that makes me completely forget about the one beside us. And the teary relief that spreads across her face is so genuine, so wonderful, that I feel myself breaking down all over again.

“Oh, Joshy...It’s...really you...”

I feel like everything moves in both slow and fast motion. I feel like I still can’t keep up with what’s happening right now. I feel like I’m making this all up to cope, or dreaming, or just going fucking crazy. But all of a sudden, my whole body lights ablaze with reality as she slips herself into my arms, slips herself back into my life.

She’s real.

I don’t even know what to do. I don’t know how to react. I’m an absolute statue as the hesitance in her movements dissipates and melts into what used to be our usual embrace, her arms wrapping around my neck and her face nestling into my shoulder. Despite this, I’m still frozen, my arms two lead weights against my side as I continue to catch up with the unfolding events. But, in her typical fashion, she nudges me along and further convinces me that yes, this is actually happening.

“Hug me back, you fucker...”

I somehow manage to breathe again, and I also manage to lift my arms up to slowly complete the embrace.

“Over her” my ass. Because the second I’m hugging her, the second I’m pulling her against me, I never want to let her go ever again. The walls I had taken years to build up, brick by brick, instantly come crashing down as the wave that is Jennifer rushes forth.

I don’t say anything back to her retort. I don’t say anything at all. I simply take a moment to silently re-familiarize myself with everything about her, everything I’ve missed so terribly without fully admitting it to myself. The way her body conforms perfectly to mine. The way she fits into my arms like just the right puzzle piece. The softness of her scent. The tickling warmth of her breaths against my skin.

God, I’m weak. I’m so incredibly weak. And it’s what’s gotten me into trouble all these years. She’s like something of a kryptonite.

I can feel her exhalations getting shaky, and I’m not sure if she’s going to cry or say something. But for what’s probably the first time in her life, she stays quiet too. We simply hold each other, silently making up for all the time that’s passed, all the hugs that could have been.

I can’t help myself. I’m at probably my absolute weakest. So I gently thread my fingers through her luscious hair, holding her even closer as I lean my head against hers. Again, I’m met with a shivering exhale, and I begin to wonder what she’s making of the whole thing.

For once though, I brush the inquiry away. For once, I don’t even attempt to read her mind. Because honestly, what are the chances of me running into Jennifer fucking Lawrence on the exact same beach we used to film on, the exact same beach that, perhaps permanently, brought us together. It has to be some type of fate or something.

A rogue wave washes high up the beach, striking our legs and pulling me back down to Earth. Come to think of it...how the hell did we both end up here together? I was just visiting Oahu by chance on a personal getaway. I know Jen visits on the occasion as well, but we haven’t been here together since...

I begin to pull back from our hug to properly talk to her, to get a good look at her. After one last tight squeeze, she slowly follows my lead, and we reveal ourselves to each other in the shimmering Hawaiian sunlight.

Instantly, it feels like my legs are going to give out. If one more wave comes by, I’m going to be a goner. Because Jen’s not standing before me- rather, a legitimate fucking angel is.

She’s just as stunning as I remember, if not more so. Her light blonde hair falls into flawless beachy waves against her shoulders. Her skin glistens like a diamond catching the sun’s rays. Her sapphire eyes carry the same beauty, the same warmth, the same allure that they always have. Though I had every intention to talk, I’m rendered absolutely speechless.

She must take notice, but she doesn’t help my case. Quite the opposite really, because she decides to grace me with her incredibly gorgeous smile, one that sinks my composure like a rock.

“Joshua Ryan,” she breathes, her smile growing even more if that’s even possible, “God, I can’t believe it’s you...What do you have to say for yourself after all this time?”

“I...”

My voice comes out in a harsh rasp, and I have to close my eyes as I attempt to channel any composure I can find.

“Jen...”

Her name still rolls beautifully off my tongue, despite it feeling so strange to say now. Though my tone is weak and cracking, my emotions strangling it off, I somehow press on with my question.

“How...the absolute fuck...”

“-are you here right now?” she butts in, boomeranging my query right back.

“I technically asked you first.”

Jennifer snorts, giving her eyes a quick roll, before she faithfully answers.

“Business I guess. Liz pointed me this direction and told me a potential gig might be coming my way. She didn’t really go into detail though.”

I furrow my brows, curiosity and confusion sweeping through me.

“A gig?”

“Yeah. I guess she wanted me to talk to someone out here and is keeping it a surprise.”

I can’t help but jump to conclusions at her words. Because the way she put it, it almost sounds like Liz wanted her to meet up with me. It seems like a load of bull, but then again, I did inform Melissa I was going to be leaving to Oahu for a few weeks...Do she and Liz even stay in contact? Could some sort of setup even be a possibility?

Before I can come up with further theories, Jen brings me back.

“How about you?”

“Oh, uh, I was just here on vacation I guess.”

As bold as ever, Jennifer raises an eyebrow and gives me a knowing look.

“A vacation away from a vacation?”

“Hey now,” I mutter, “You know I’ve been trying to do stuff. It just gets hard when I keep hitting all these slow spots.”

Jen’s face softens again, and she laughs her gorgeous staccato laugh before replying.

“I know. Don’t take it so personally, asshole.”

I give my eyes a roll; seems like she hasn’t changed much at all. Instead of poking and prodding at me further though, she asks me a question that has my heart skipping beats all over again.

“Why don’t you tell me everything that’s been going on with you?”

“I- Right now?” I sputter.

“Yes, you idiot,” she laughs incredulously, “Do you have anything going on?”

Even if I did, I certainly don’t anymore. I couldn’t even start to prioritize anything else on this island over a moment like this.

“Not...really no.”

“Perfect. Neither do I.”

We stare at each other for a moment more, and I have to clear my throat and look away before I get totally entranced by her.

“I uh...I have some towels and drinks back in my car if you want to sit out for a while?”

Jennifer lights up in a way that makes the sun look dark, her excitement so contagious I can’t help but grin at her.

“Yessss!” she squeals, “Spongy coming in clutch!”

I laugh, both at her and the ridiculousness of it all, before beckoning her to come back to the car with me. She eagerly follows, the two of us departing the beach and heading back on the heavily floral path. We walk for a moment in silence, but just like old times, it never lasts long.

“So okay, I know why you’re here on Oahu,” Jen starts,” But now it’s my turn to ask why the absolute fuck-”

“-You were on the Kawela Bay Beach?” I finish for her with a chuckle, using her same interrupting tactic from earlier.

She gives me that wonderful laugh of hers again, before composing herself to reply.

“Probably the same thing you were doing: reliving one of the better parts of my life I guess. Walking down memory lane. Whatever you want to call it. Definitely got way more nostalgic than I bargained for though.”

“Yeah,” I snort, “You can say that again!”

She giggles once more, before quieting down. Though I’m not looking at her, instead watching my footing to make sure I don’t trip on a lone root or something, I can practically feel the warmth of her stare as she gazes at me, causing a subsequent burn in my cheeks.

“What?” I press, feeling my skin reddening more by the second.

“Nothing,” she chuckles softly, “I just...cannot believe I’m here with you right now.”

“Welcome to my world,” I snort, “When I first heard and saw you, I thought I was majorly tripping balls.”

“Jesus,” she laughs, “Happen to have anything that could do that in your car?”

“Unfortunately not. But I think seeing one Jen after all this time is the most I can handle right now anyway.”

“You’re probably right.”

We share another round of mirth, and then it’s my turn to stare at her once more, my turn to really appreciate the fact that Jen is indeed here with me. She’s just...incredible; she trumps the island’s beauty by leaps and bounds. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, watching her hair and sundress flutter to match my heart in the gentle breeze...It’s all so much. It’s all some sort of crazy dream.

Thankfully, my waterfall of sentiments is capped by us reaching my car. I pop the trunk and grab supplies out of it, handing Jen a towel and pack of beer before picking up the same. We quickly make our way back to the beach, setting down the towels next to each other, before opening up both our drinks and our lives.

I guess she and I must have hit some kind of weird wall due to our careers, because now that we’re in person, it’s like we never even took a pause at all. We go straight back to our jokes, our teasing, our storytelling, catching each other up with one another’s nonsense and kicking back beneath the Hawaiian sun.

Jen of course complains about all the publicity shit she has to deal with on a near consistent basis, and I chide that it must be nice to have so many gigs. We playfully bicker for some time, before agreeing to switch lives when we head back home, laughing and drinking all the while.

We then go into even further detail, talking about things such as our families, our housing situation, our dogs...Everything literally under the sun. We go on for hours, going through a multitude of stories, along with a multitude of drinks.

By the time the sun has started to drift down into the waves, my throat is incredibly dry from talking so much, a contrast to the liquid confidence flowing through me. A couple of empty cases of drinks is further evidence to how much time and alcohol have passed, along with Jennifer leaning her head sloppily on my shoulder.

We’ve somehow managed to go quiet for a bit, simply basking in each other’s company and the orange glow of the retreating light. Thank God I can’t think entirely straight, or my mind would likely be ablaze with all sorts of infatuation towards the woman beside me, all sorts of thoughts that would likely intrude on the moment. Of course, I can leave it to Jen to pick up the ball.

“Joshy?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t we ever do this anymore,” she whines, her voice slightly coated with alcohol.

Though I know she isn’t thinking clearly either, and is spouting whatever comes to mind far more than usual, I cannot help but stiffen slightly. I cannot help but have a few, more negative thoughts creep into the picture. It’s a reality check of sorts I suppose, a break away from the gorgeous reverie this whole day has been. It’s a reminder that, despite us once being so close, being practically unbreakable, we did indeed end up going our separate ways.

“You know why.”

“Noooo...” she whines again, and I see her lip puff out in her platypus pout out of the corner of my eye.

“We both kind of went our own ways,” I murmur,” You know that. You’ve certainly been...keeping busy.”

“Yeah, with a bunch of fucking movie shit.”

“Among other things...”

Now it’s Jen’s turn to stiffen. I should have known she of all people would catch the deeper meaning behind my words, the unintentional jealously that slipped into my statement. Maybe that was partly what pushed me away from her, some kind of fucked up possessiveness as I watched her jump from guy to guy. She’s quick to check me though, shifting herself away from me and giving me an incredulous stare.

“Josh, don’t even give me that shit. Need I remind you that you have a girlfriend?”

I shudder at a multitude of things. The mere mentioning of Claudia, the fact that my heart was constantly going every which way during our relationship and could never settle itself, the fact that I was possessive over Jen despite us going our separate ways, the fact that Jen just recognized said bullshit...

I let out a long sigh. It was a mess. It was all an incredible mess. I definitely couldn’t keep kidding anyone though. I couldn’t fully commit no matter how hard I tried. Not with part of me permanently residing with someone else.

“...We broke up.”

Jen’s furrowed brows instantly lift, her expression shifting to that of softness and surprise.

“...What?”

“We broke up,” I say again, “About a year or so ago.”

I simply leave it at that. Because despite Jen and I having an amazing reunion today, I have no fucking clue where that puts us now. And I definitely don’t have any idea how she’s been feeling after all these years. I feel like we need to focus on the aspect of our friendship instead anyway rather than dredging up relationship things, no matter how pressing they are in my head.

“Oh...” Jen murmurs.

I expect her to bury me with more questions, to attempt to figure out the juicy details on why my past relationship didn’t work out. I expect her to drunkenly tease me about not being able to put out or some shit like that. I expect her to talk all sorts of shit as she does. But strangely enough, she simply leaves it at that, staring silently out at the ocean before us.

I gaze at her for a while, waiting for her to speak up once more, but she doesn’t. Puzzled, I shift myself to follow her stare, simply taking in the sights along with her. In the small respite, my mind begins to stumble through thoughts and memories. Sitting out here, watching the setting sun with her, takes me back to when we filmed the popular “Beach Kiss” scene. I remember how we were laughing so much and giving each other so much between takes, but in the moment, I remember just being...absolutely entranced with her.

I remember her stealing the breath right out of my lungs. I remember her pulling me deep under her spell. I remember that very moment completely solidifying my feelings for her.

I remember that being the moment I realized I truly loved her.

A long sigh blows from pursed lips, and I look down at the last of my alcohol as I continue to reminisce. It’s strange how much that time practically parallels now when I think about it. The laughing and talking, followed by the more intense thoughts and bits of passion. We’re just missing one key piece, else we’d have it all over again.

“Kiss me.”

The drink I had started to take nearly comes out in a spray as I sputter back into the bottle, almost choking at the insane segway from Jennifer.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she murmurs, “Kiss me.”

My brain goes absolutely wild, trying to work through how the fuck she practically just read my thoughts a second ago. My first, and perhaps alcohol-ridden instinct, is to pounce on her and kiss her into the next day. The very idea of getting to taste her, feeling her flower petals of lips gliding through mine, sharing such a gorgeous, intimate moment with her that I’ve been craving since the day she first gave it to me...

I physically have to clench myself to ensure I don’t do anything rash, and instead attempt to tread as carefully through this as I can. I want it. I want her. God, I fucking want her so bad. But this same kind of thing...this same kind of thirst...It messed us up so bad so many years ago. It tore a rift between us, maybe one that eventually lead us to the distanced paths we took away from one another.

Regardless, it’d be amazing, so fucking amazing in the moment, but who knows what kind of further repercussions it could cause. I feel like I just now started to get Jen back as a friend. I don’t need to lose her yet again, maybe for even longer, simply because of a drunk slip-up.

“I, wh- Jen, you’re drunk.”

She lets out a stubborn, snorting laugh, placing her hands on her hips as she stares me down.

“And?”

“And you’re not in your head right now,” I reply gently, hesitantly, “I don’t...Want to do something we might...regret later.”

She looks at me for a moment, surprise and contemplation seeming to dance across her features. But suddenly, her face goes incredibly hard, and she gives a dramatic roll of her eyes before pouting back towards the ocean.

“Such fucking bullshit...” I hear her grumble, and my head spins as a result.

“Jen. What the hell are you on about?” I ask, completely beside myself.

“You cannot tell me you don’t want this too.”

It feels like the world stops as she calls my bluff yet again, this time perhaps the most painful instance yet. I have to ball my towel up into tight fists, inhaling calming breaths as my eyes shut her tightly away from view.

Because she’s right. She’s absolutely right. I definitely want nothing more than to completely ravage her, right here and now. But I can’t. We can’t. There’s no fucking way.

Also, though it’s likely just a product of her drunken state, what the hell is Jen thinking anyway? Is she mutual in sharing my thoughts and desires? Was she also thinking back to our Catching Fire days? Has she also been missing me the same way I’ve been missing her?

It’s all such a crazy enigma, and I don’t believe it’s best to solve it by giving into each other. Didn’t help our case last time, that’s for sure.

“I...Jennifer, we haven’t seen each other in so fucking long,” I begin, attempting to go down the most reasonable route, “We barely even talk anymore. Hell, there were times I was questioning if we were even still friends or not. I feel like this is the first time I’ve really talked to you in years. So you can’t expect me to want to complicate everything all over again. I can’t do that.”

I brace myself for her to fire things at me in return. I brace myself for her to pressure me further and push me to the brink of giving in. So I’m incredibly surprised when I’m met with the crash of the waves and nothing more.

I chance a look at her, and find that she’s rested her head on her bent legs, staring out over the water again with an unreadable expression painted across her face. As I stare, the setting sun strikes her in such a way that makes her absolutely glow, like some sort of spotlight that’s directing me to her. She’s ablaze with beauty, matching the quickly intensifying fire in my heart.

Catching Fire again indeed, because just like last time, the fires within us grow to meet each other, dancing in perfect synchronization. Just like last time, everything points for us to proceed despite all other signs not to do so. Just like last time, every fucking ounce of composure, of control, of anything that would hold me back, is turned to ash and washed away by the tide.

I try so hard for one last second. I clench my jaw tightly, shut my eyes away, and fist my towel up to the point where it hurts. But her draw is stronger. Her draw wins over everything else. Her draw convinces me in a second that everything happens for a reason, and that there is nothing more standing in the way.

I let out a soft groan, the last bit of me letting go.

“...Fucking...dammit.”

And then I’m on Jennifer so quick that she barely has time to turn her head in my direction before my lips find their true place once more.

The way she matches my speed and my passion is ludicrous, but I suppose it confirms she wanted nothing more as well. Instantly we’re facing each other, climbing up one another’s bodies and pulling each other onto our knees, never once stopping the stream of sucks and glides between our mouths.

Jen’s hands find my hair, and she grasps and pulls strands as she continues on with her passionate assault. I anchor myself to her as well, cupping her face tightly with both hands and drawing her even closer, drinking in all that she is. The only things that manage to break through the connection of our lips is desperate breaths and small moans.

Everything is perfect, an urgent ballet as our tongues and lips continuously dance with each other. Some feral part of me that has been dormant for far too long awakens, and I lower myself back down against the sand without any thought, pulling her on top of me. She chases eagerly after me, biting my bottom lip the moment she’s settled atop me.

Having her this close in so many ways, after so fucking long, causes me to release a groaning sigh into our plethora of kisses. She captures the vocalization with ease, drawing both it and my bottom lip into her mouth with a sensual suck. Of course, at this level of passion, this level of raw desire, our bodies react accordingly. I can feel all the fire that we created traveling down to rage in our pelvises, with mine beginning to alight directly at the apex of my legs.

Just like that, Jen responds, slowly beginning to rock her body against mine. We both moan our approvals into each other, and my hands naturally crawl up to caress Jen’s back, aiding her with her movements.

I thought a kiss would be ridiculous, but sex would be even more so. Regardless of any kind of common sense I may have, I am just mere moments from flipping her over and pounding years of want into her. I am just mere moments from reaffirming the unshakable connection we made on this same island so long ago.

Thankfully though, the universe sides with my feeble attempts to get my composure back, and decides to literally douse the fire burning out of control on its sands. Another rogue wave, the biggest of them all perhaps, suddenly surges quickly up the sand, enveloping our legs in rather freezing water.

Jennifer releases me with a high pitched squeal one second, and rolls off me the next, instinctually skittering away from the only undesired wetness on this beach. I’m still in so much of a daze that I simply lay there, allowing the wave to lap up to my thighs and completely put out the rampant desire I had been experiencing.

I have to take a moment and gaze skyward, panting softly and running my hands down my face. I use the silence to focus on drawing the blood away from my pelvis for a moment, to calm myself down after that taste of actual heaven.

I’m starting to wonder what became of Jen, where she ended up after the wave crashed our party. Neither of us are saying anything, so I can only pray that she’s calming herself down as well, and not regretting it like I had originally warned. She doesn’t keep me worrying long however, her beautiful, sunny, smiling face appearing in my peripheral vision.

“You never could resist me, hmm?” she teases with a giggle, hovering her face slightly over mine.

“Fuck you...” I mutter, shutting my eyes again but chuckling all the while.

We share a breathy laugh, before we travel into a comfortable silence, simply bathing in the afterglow together. Jen further chases away my fears of her being uncomfortable, as she begins to softly stroke her fingers through my hair. I cannot help but smile at the feeling, at the situation, at everything that’s happened. It’s nuts to think that hours ago I had been preparing myself to never see her again, and now we’re together, practically in love all over.

Leave it to Jen to either complete my thoughts, or read them entirely.

“Hey so don’t hate me for this; can I make a suggestion?” she murmurs.

“What’s that?” I answer softly, opening my eyes to meet her warm stare.

“Would you be terribly opposed to just...starting over?”

Now she’s got my complete attention, my head pivoting on the sand to properly look at her, to check to see if I’m not making any of this up. But no, I’m met with nothing but unbridled sincerity, her eyes a mixture of hopeful and loving.

“We’re basically there already anyway,” she chuckles softly, “We pretty much hopped right back to square one again. I just...”

She inhales deeply, giving my hair another stroke.

“I miss you, Joshy...I’ve missed you more than I ever would have imagined. Hope this confirmed it,” she says with a snorting giggle, and we share a quick laugh of agreement before she continues, “I’m...To put it simply, you caught me completely offguard, Joshua Ryan. All these years, you made me feel things I’ve never felt towards anyone. And I guess it scared me, and overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I never really did. I fucked up so many times. Royally.”

“I definitely did too,” I admit.

“So yeah, because something brought us back together...Would you be okay with giving...us a chance again?”

I gaze deeply into her eyes, and the pure adoration I’m met with earns me the biggest smile I’ve had in such a long time.

“I don’t think I would mind that at all.”

Jen’s smile is quick to match mine, the both of us lighting up and illuminating the beach in the fading light. She gently cups my face with a hand, and presses a soft but meaningful kiss against my forehead; it feels as if she’s sealing her promise into it.

“You’re going to have to give me time to catch up, though,” I laugh, “Hoooo...I’m still trying to figure out if this all a really insane trip.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be hanging out with such a junkie,” she teases back.

“Don’t think you’ve got much of chance now, Jenny.”

Her smile runs incredibly warm at the usage of an old nickname, before she bursts into happy giggles, pulling me into a tight hug the moment I sit up.

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way, Joshy.”

#Joshifer #Joshifer fic #Joshifer fanfiction #Jennifer Lawrence #Josh Hutcherson #Joshifer Hawaii #Writing that end part so was freaking fun man lol #Writing this WHOLE THING was so fun actually #God I can't believe I actually finished it #I had the first part sitting in my drafts for a week or two #And I thought it was going to be yet another story lost to the Draft Graveyard #But then BOOM for some reason I just???? Gained the crazy motivation?????? Yesterday???????#I'M NOT MAD TBH LOL LIKE #IT WAS SO INCREDIBLY FUN TO WRITE THESE TWO AGAIN #I was surprised at how easy their dialogue and everything still came to me after all this time #It was like riding a bike lol!#And yes yes okay #*Holds a stick up to scare off the Angery Anons* I know everything in this story would probably never EVER happen #So yes yes hi hello delusional Joshifer shipper here #But like #have u even read my past works #do you u even lift lol #I've always stretched the truth waaaaaaaay far lmao #Simply to tell a fun little story #SO YES I'M AWARE AND YES I ENJOYED IT A LITTLE TOO MUCH LOL #Surprise bitch #I bet you thought you had seen the last of me #-Jen and I tbh

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doorsclosingslowly · 7 years

Note

Literally ALL OF THEM for Riches and Wonders.

THX!!!!!!!! I’m going to do this in chunks. it got kinda long, sorry!

1: Whatinspired you to write the fic this way?

Riches and Wonders is reallya Savage character study in the end. When I started writing Runaways, back whenit was a one-shot, the point was more that I wanted to figure out a way inwhich Maul was going to survive, and didn’t he have that brother with theedgelord name? TCW still isn’t my favourite interpretation of Maul even if it’s funny, but Ilove Savage so much I can’t really diss it anymore

Writing it from Savage’s POVwas because I liked that framing better, and then the story became about hisjourney because I decided writing about near-misses and calling it “Thank Youbut Your Princess is in Another Castle” was funny. So while it was empatheticto Savage’s perspective and I was starting to figure out his narrative voice,it wasn’t really as deeply in his head as it could have been. (Which does work.“There were no words for a long time.It’s good that there weren’t.” Savage in Princess is incredibly depressedand Talzin’s mind-controlled tool, and he becomes more lively after he gets tointeract with someone who thinks of him as a person again.)

(Side note: The way I figure the mind control works btw is that it’sbasically a strong compulsion to obey, not a reshaping of his mind or anything,and he acts the way he does because he’s terrified, depressive, hurt, andthrown into a completely new world so he’s also pretty confused, and when he’snot completely numb, he’s keeping himself together by the skin of his teeth andthe ways he’s learned how to cope as a nightbrother. Which ends up reinforcingthe obedience. And makes him hide his emotions apart from the ones people wantfrom him (rage) because he must be Strong. The goals aren’t his own, but it’shis mind trying to fulfil them: he’s trying to do what Talzin orders withoutreally knowing why but that’s mostly what he’d have done anyway so he doesn’teven think it’s weird. The compulsion can be triggered by the Sisters or brokenlike in canon or when he thinks, I just CAN’T letMaul die like Feral in Princess. I amsoft and the idea that Talzin’s ritual destroyed the person he was is way toosad for me to write tbh. And also makes characterization really really hard)

That more shallowunderstanding I used to have in Princess obviously doesn’t cut it, if I’mwriting an eight-part series about them. So from Curses onwards I thought a lotabout what each of the brothers is getting out of this relationship, the waythey affect each other, and the way it’s both a train wreck and mutuallysupportive. (Your Love Alone is pretty much the condensed version of thatthought process.)

I did a lot of research, especially about maladaptivecoping responses to abuse (focusing on compliance and avoidance w/r/t Savage,because he’s so… quiet before the rage explodes) and it fit with thecharacterization I had in Princess and with TCW. (They’re incredibly maladaptivenow that he’s run away, but self-soothing and advance compliance andpsychological withdrawal are what might have kept him alive as a nightbrother.)

Also I watched his episodes a lot and got upset a lot.Apart from Monster the show’s POV isn’t that sympathetic but trying tounderstand what he’s thinking in every scene… oh boy.

A big part of the characterization ended up justgrowing from lines I put into Princess because I thought they were fun orsounded right. So, “He imaginessurprising Her, conjures up Her proud face when he reports that he has foundMaul, and then discards the thought. It’s never been him She was interested in.Once She sees Maul, She will never look at him again. He thinks he should feelwistful. He is relieved.” becomes this idea that Savage is usually veryaware of how he’s supposed to be reacting, of who he is supposed to be, but he often doesn’t measure up. Everysituation contains the emotions he shouldfeel, and the ones he does feel. Atthe same time, his reactions are pretty reasonable and the expectations he’sinternalized are just… not.

Also, the daydreaming which Savage does in Princess (“He entertains himself with guessing thebusiness his brother does” etc) has increased exponentially. Partly it’sbecause Savage actually knows Maul now, so he can be reminded of his brother byrandom stuff. Partly it’s because I’m really into “This made me think of you”as a bit of show-don’t-tell affection. Partly it’s because Maul is his wholeworld now. Partly it’s that Savage would totally stick Maul’s report cards tothe fridge if he had the chance, or pass around his album of Feral baby photosto everyone who doesn’t run away fast enough. He would talk to a random woman in a bar about how cool he thinks Maulis.

Ultimately, I think it’s pretty fortunate that I gotso derailed into focusing on Savage. The inciting What If of Runaways is “Whatif Talzin wanted Maul back 15 years earlier” obviously but the actualcounterfactual I’m writing is more like, “What if Savage was much moresuccessful in the tug-of-war of defining their relationship?” Which isconnected to the fact that they’re in a very different place to canon when theymeet, and that they have the luxury of spending (mostly) unobserved years assmall-time criminals and not as parties in the Clone Wars.

From Princess on but also in the parts I haven’twritten yet, Savage’s decisions drive a massive part of their story. He decidesto run away with Maul, after all.

Which is funny, because he doesn’t think of himself asa person with agency, and obviously most people he interacts with think of himas a tool (Talzin) or a monster or an apprentice who should do what Maul saysbecause they are Sith and that’s how life works. They really don’t think of himas making choices either. There’s a lot of ‘minor’ decisions where he goesalong with little or no protest until suddenly there’s something he can’t bearanymore, and then he just acts. Thereis no leadup because it’s been simmering under the surface, just as feelingsand never vocalized. Like in the show, haha. Mostly silent obedience obedience obedience CHOKE DOOKU & VENTRESS!!!It makes him look like an irrational person from the outside (or a “mindlessbeast” blah blah blah, hate that), but I don’t think that’s it. To deliberatehis decision would have required him to be a more verbal thinker, but mostly: toactually believe he has a choice.

And Savage can’tbelieve that he has any agency anymore. If he is capable of disobeying orders– well, why didn’t he disobey the order to kill Feral? Being a tool sucks, buthis destiny has always been controlled by the Nightsisters anyway. Not being atool – having the power to stop Feral’s death, and killing him regardless…

(This is an absolutetangent but anyway. So I read this Savage/Asajj fic that was enthusiasticdubcon aka ‘they both know he isn’t allowed to disobey her and therefore he can’tactually consent to sex but he’s really into it and after he’s brought to theSisters and before the ritual, he initiates the encounter and it’s his POV which is the only way dubcon can work’, and it was prettyinteresting especially with the woman-centered framing of sex (engulfingetc) but anyway, I had the most horrifying thought right now: Asajj is stillgoing to use Savage’s body to kill his brother. This is probably the mostpsychologically wrecking version of what happens in Monster ever. In theRunaways ‘verse version of what happens, the story Savage tells himself isthis: He has no capability of disobeying at all anymore, so ultimately he isjust the tool that killed Feral. Still traumatizing, but… What do you tell yourselfwhen you ‘willingly’ sleep with the person who ordered you to kill yourbrother? Can you still make yourself believe you didn’t make the choice to kill him? Like it obviously doesn’t makehim any more culpable at all but it would feel So Bad.)

Wow sorry, this is really rambly and way too long. Tosummarize… What inspired me to write this fic this way was that I’m writing apretty long story about how Maul and Savage very slowly help each other, oftenin ways that seem strange or even slightly unhealthy on the surface or involve murder.My mental picture of Maul was much clearer, and that would have been doingSavage a massive disservice. So I watched Clone Wars a lot. And cried.

2: Whatscene did you first put down?

The rape scene, or, well,the ‘Thinking about Maul’s eating habits to mentally cope with being rapedbecause Savage thinks this is something he has to endure and not something heshould and could escape’ scene. I still think it fits with what I’m going for really well tbh, andboth the ‘externally controlled body’ part (less of a magical metaphor here) andthe ‘ignoring his agency’ part and the nightbrothers as essentially breedingslaves part are such major aspects of Savage’s backstory, or I wouldn’t havewritten this scene. When I said that the fic was way out of my comfort zone, Idefinitely meant it. But Savage’s issues with agency are a major part of him, and I thought the take worked and it’s probably why I wasso stubborn in trying to finish Riches even though six months is a fucking longtime.

3: What’syour favorite line of narration?

There is a tongue inSavage’s mouth again, lightly tracing the back seams of his teeth and thensquirming against Savage’s tongue, like the bitten-off tail end of a massiveearthworm, only much less delightful—andMaul doesn’t like rancor flavored with kur-seeds and peppers. He made themost entertaining face on tasting that dish for the first time, and when hestumbled on his unsteady new leg to the fresher to spit it out, Savage onlystarted to feel bad for laughing when he didn’t come out for half an hour. Hewas too entertained to even think about his failure then, even though he cookedit, the meal he’s come to think of as the most comforting comfort food, in thedoomed hope that it would help Maul feel better and stronger after his injury.

It feels wrong to mock him,now that he’s had a while to think it over. Maul’s soft palate is the fault ofthe human who raised him. Besides, Savage should be grateful: There issomething soft left in his brother. Every time Maul hates the meals that Savagelovingly prepares for him, he should be glowing with pride and relief, becausethere is something Maul doesn’t like, and he’s learned to tell Savage about it.

Savage doesn’t know what itwas that he did, but that doesn’t make it any less his greatest triumph: Thefirst day that Maul looked at him, still tied up and after a month of stoicallyforcing down whatever Savage held up to his mouth, and spat the spicedchew-fish back in his face.

“This tastes like shit,”Maul said, then.

It’s one of Savage’shappiest memories, and it’s not like Maul is really wrong about the taste of rancor, anyway.

Savage thinks about theimportance of Maul being able to say “No.” in a moment where he himself (believesthat he) has no choice. The fact that Maul feels comfortable enough to refusethings is something he sees as a major breakthrough in their relationship,because it means that Maul is beginning to trust that Savage isn’t going toreact like Sidious. Savage doesn’t consciously connect it to his own situation.He doesn’t really think about the difference between the things he wants forMaul (and Feral) and what he has accepted for himself.

Also, he’s redefiningsomething that looks like a dick move (Maul insulting Savage’s cooking skills) intoa show of trust and a sign of affection, which I always like.

(Maul won’t try roe today, after all. They’ll slit a few fish bellies,but Savage’s picked the wrong season, and none of them carry young. He will trya piece of raw fish in the end—after much cajoling, which Savage will figurehe’s entitled to, after Maul left the shallow waters with his heavy prostheticand pretended to drown, and then pulled his frantic brother under. Twice.Predictably, Maul will declare that raw fish is disgusting.

He’ll still be complaining about the aftertaste when farmer M’lee makesthe incredibly unwise and terminal decision to check on his fish in theevening.)

(M’lee’s daughter will inherit the roe farm. It will lie empty, andsuccumb to rot. She’ll never set another foot on Talasea, not after thathorrifying morning when she comes back from a friend’s wedding to find herfather missing and then dismembered and burned in the peaceful grass.

She’ll die on Coruscant ten years later, destitute and still trying tobring justice.)

Also this one, because I just think it really works the way I wanted it to? It punctures the cocoon of Savage’s POVwhere only Maul really matters. I don’t get to be compassionate to anybody else usually because of Runaways’ tight perspective but I think it’s important to remember the victims

4: What’syour favorite line of dialogue?

This is really hard. It’sprobably this part

Instead of meditating,though, Maul stands up again. He looks at Savage for a long second, paces,picks up the blanket from Savage’s bed, and then he sits down in the corner ofhis floor-nest. He pushes the mismatched pillow-wall on the other side further awaywith a few kicks. Then he orders, “Come here.”

Savage does.

“Sit down,” Maul says.

Savage does, carefully,stepping over the pillow-wall. When he sits, the floor is cool through Maul’sblankets, and hard as well. He scowls. He’s been telling Maul that it can’t becomfortable for a while now, but he’s always been informed that it’s adequate.For lack of actual knowledge—maybe the thick fabric he’d forced on Maul wasenough, even if it didn’t seem like it—he believed him. Now, though…

“This isn’t good for yourback. You need a proper bed.”

“A mattress is superfluous,”Maul says.

“You refused to have ablanket for two months,” Savage reminds him. “And now look at your nest…” Heruns his hand over the wall of pillows to his left, still standing sturdydespite Maul’s show of carelessness in pushing it aside. “See? You can change.”

You can grow to like beds, Savage almostsays, but the words bite into his throat and refuse to come out.

He pats the floor blanketagain, instead.

“You’re deflecting,” Maulsays, mercilessly. “I felt your terror. What happened?”

The start of their BigConversation, where they’re basically talking about nothing at all, even thoughboth Maul and Savage obviously know what just happened. I like things that are very lowkey.

Savage’s instinct is to beMaul’s big brother and his caretaker, even when he’s really out of it. Focusingon Maul (what they are going to do when they meet, making sure they meet,whatever Maul looks like he needs now) is also one of his more effective copingmechanisms, and he’s been doing it the whole time really. He has chased Maulthrough all of Princess, he’s been doing whatever Maul wants during Curses. Unmasked doesn’t really count because it was originally part of Riches It’salso what he’s doing in the flashback at the beginning of Riches, feeding Feralso he doesn’t have to be so afraid of the Sisters coming. He has never reallythought about what is being done to him. Well, Maul isn’t letting him run awayanymore.

It also kinda punctures someof Savage’s ‘I am the big brother and know what your life should have been like’airs. Savage’s been trying to coax Maul into accepting his own vision of whatlife should be like, including making him eat what Savage thinks he should eatand sleeping the way Savage thinks he should sleep, instead of the way Maul’sused to live. Fair play, the way Maul was raised was terrible. But Savage’s lifewasn’t great either, and now, Maul being raised a nightbrother doesn’t lookthat attractive anymore.

(Also it says something about Savage’s decision-makingprocess I think. There’s a kind of reversal of the model thought process, the ‘rational’ ideal… The most consequential decisionbased on his feeling that Maul deserves better than a nightbrother slave’slife, Savage takes right in the beginning. Not bringing him back to Talzin. Twoyears later, Savage is still struggling with that idea though, see also: “Savage cannot think back far enough toreach a world empty of this truth, but he remembers too that Maul wasn’t raiseda nightbrother (for the blink of a second and for the first time, it feels likea mercy), and so the words will have to stumble out.” because he’s neververbalized his reasons for not bringing Maul to Dathomir or integrated theminto his worldview. They aren’t thoughts he knows how to think, but thatdoesn’t mean they don’t influence his actions.)

I also like the space pigeondialogue a lot haha If I didn’t I’d have cut it, because it’s probably definitelyToo Obvious

5: Whatpart was hardest to write?

Going by what I left off until the end, it’s the barscene from the point when Keeu shows up. Because a) I don’t recognise flirtingin real life, so how am I going to write it and b) I knew that if it didn’tmake sense, the whole ending of the fic wouldn’t make sense.

That’s not the bit I re-wrote about a million times,though. That’s Maul and Savage’s conversation about Dathomiri society and theSith code

#sl-walker #dimtraces makes things #runaways 'verse

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