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amazingmaeve · 3 years

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Tolerate it ↠ Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley Masterlist // Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Fred had an amazing love story throughout Hogwarts. But things start to go sour after the 2nd wizarding war.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Pregnancy, Mentions of sex, panic attacks

AN: Hope this works out ok!

While at Hogwarts Y/N and Fred’s relationship was better than ever. They did everything together. Well not everything since George was with Fred as well.

Y/N would help him and George with their pranks and all of them would serve detention together as well.

Even though they hung around George a lot he had a life of his own which gave Y/N and Fred to spend sometime alone together. Which the two lovers appreciated.

Y/N and Fred got together in their 4th year when Fred finally gained the confidence to ask Y/N out. The three of them have been best friends ever since their 1st year when she got put her into Gryffindor.

Then when the Yule ball came around a couple years later Fred made a big deal on how he asked her out. There were fireworks that spelled out ‘Will you go to the ball with’.

As the words painted the sky Y/N accepted with tears in the corner in her eyes and then went to hug Fred.

In their 7th year Umbridge came to the school to ruin there lives.

Fred and Y/N couldn’t even hug without Umbridge splitting the two up. When they got the detentions Y/N would comfort Fred laying down with his head in the crook of her neck.

Y/N would stroke his back comforting him.

When Y/N got her first detention with the blood quil Y/N had avoided Fred not wanting him to be angry. He already cut her out of pranks not wanting her to get hurt.

Then Y/N finally decided to talk to Fred and he was livid when he found out. But with Y/N crying on the couch in the common room he pushed his anger aside to hug her trying to get he sobs to calm down.

Y/N eventually fell asleep on his chest and Fred took her to her dorm room and laid the girl down who was fast asleep.

Y/N had always supported the twins and their joke shop.

She told him “follow your dreams Fred,” which he did.

When Fred and George decided to leave Y/N was the first one to know. She offered to go with them but Fred knew how much her education meant to her and decided against.

Y/N was angry at first but slowly came around. There wasn’t that much of school left so she would be leaving soon.

The night before Fred and George left Y/N finally gained enough confidence to tell Fred she loved him. It was the first time she has ever said that to him.

Fred immediately kissed her and after he told her he loved her as well. That was the night the two lost their virginity’s.

Then the school year was over in what a felt like a whole year to Y/N.

For the next full year Y/N moved in with Fred and George and started working with them. Their relationship was growing stronger and stronger everyday.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered one night to Fred whole they were in bed. Her head was laid on his shoulder. The two loved birds were just finished from the 2nd time they’ve had sex that night. The two were extremely tired.

“Love you too darling,” Fred kissed her forehead and brushed some of her hair out of her face. “Will always love you forever,” He promised.

“Forever,” Y/N repeated nuzzling her head into his chest started to feel that tiredness come back. “Good night love,” she whispered.

“Good night darling,” Y/N could hear Fred just before she slipped into deep sleep.

Fred could feel a smirk on his face as he heard her snoring slightly. Fred knew this was the woman he was going to get married have kids. Fred couldn’t wait for the day.

Whenever they did something lovey dovey George would gag at his brother and girlfriend in a jokingly manor. The truth was that George loved having his best friend around and that his best friend and brother were hopelessly in love.

The whole year was like a fairytale for the both of them.

But sometimes fairytales don’t have good endings, and the 2nd wizarding war was going to be come crashing in on their little bubble they loved so much.

The wizarding war was the hardest things Y/N had to go through. With the fighting and death and the worst part was that Fred almost died.

Luckily he didn’t but it was a close call.

Y/N was the first one to find him passed out on the ground rubble all around him. Y/N immediately ran towards him grabbing his face while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“No no no,” Y/N whispered as she put her fingers on his neck to see if he had a pulse.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when he did have and when he suddenly woke up.

“What happened why’re you crying love,” Fred groaned as he tried to get up and when he did Y/N wrapped her arms around him violently sobbing into his chest.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N’s voice was muffled as she pressed her face into his chest not wanting to let him go.

“Can’t get rid of me love,” Fred jokes pulling Y/N up to stand. He wrapped his arms around the girl who’s sobs were dying down.

“Don’t joke around about this,” Y/N sniffed finally removing herself from his chest looking up at the red head who gave her a sad smile.

“Sorry but I’m right here and I’m fine,” Fred reassured Y/N wiping the tears from under her eyes.

Y/N didn’t know weather to believe him or not but right Fred was okay and that’s all that matters. He wrapped his arms around her once more and kissed the top of her head in a comforting manor.

In that moment nothing mattered Fred was alive and that’s everything.

Y/N and Fred were taking a few days off from work and she didn’t want to get special treatment and Fred thought the same. So she got a job at a book store.

For the next few everything was ok. Y/N and Fred got a flat for themselves and everything was settling in.

Fred was a little off though. Just little things at the time. He wouldn’t ask her about her day, he wouldn’t tell her he loved her before he left for work.

Y/N didn’t mention it to him thinking it was her just being clingy. And plus she didn’t want to add to his plate since the war just ended.

And he was getting nightmares to the point where he woke up screaming. On those nights Y/ would have get him out of sleep and let him sob into her chest as Y/N strokes the back of his neck comforting him.

Y/N’s tried bringing it up but he avoided the conversation. She just wanted to know what was going on in his head.

She didn’t bring it up because Y/N didn’t want to make things worse for him.

They talked less and less each day and Y/N thought Fred was like this all the time. That was until she went to go and visit him and saw him laughs with George.

Her heart swelled knowing he’s happy but her brain wondered why he wasn’t doing that with her. Y/N shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts and was just happy he was happy.

The days went on and Y/N could feel her heart break and break even more. Fred barely smiled when he was at the flat.

At first Y/N thought Fred just needed space from her and she didn’t blame him for that. In relationships sometimes the two people needed to talk and be around friends, family.

Y/N felt like she couldn’t even feel his love and he was just tolerating hers.

But this has been going on for a couple months and Y/N could feel herself start to feel like she had no one to talk to. George was always around Fred and would feel bad if he knew she was talking to his brothers/family.

Like with her job Y/N’s boss was being a bit rude and she didn’t know who talk too.

Sometimes the loneliness got hard. With the effects of the war Y/N often get panic attacks where Y/N could feel the walls close in on her. She could feel her breathing start her faster and faster.

Then Y/N found a place where she could calm down. A beach where she would just listen to waves crashing and the animals making there noises.

But it didn’t solve her problems with Fred.

At the 3 month mark Y/N kept throwing up in the morning for 2 weeks straight. It was easy to hide it from Fred since the two barely talked and he left from work early.

Then she noticed she missed her period. Y/N and Fred rarely have sex since the war but one drunk night they had together must of been it.

Y/N wanted to be sure so she got a test from the wizarding world that would tell her if she was pregnant 100%.

As Y/N paced in her and Fred’s shared bathroom she began to think about how Fred was gonna take it. Fred always told Y/N he wanted kids but now she doesn’t know.

Would bringing a baby into the mix make things worse? Would Fred be mad at her?

When it was time to look at the test Y/N took a deep breath before picking up the test and let out a sad sigh.

Positive.

Y/N put her hand on her belly and smiled. She was already love her/him. This was something her and Fred created together.

Maybe this will help Y/N’s and Fred’s relationship.

Y/N looked at the time and noticed it was only 1. It was her day off. Y/N wanted to tell Fred immediately.

Y/N grabbed her coat with bubbling excitement as she strolled to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a smile on her face. Even though the past months haven’t been good for her this was a good thing to happen to Y/N.

The shop was filled with loads and loads of customers when Y/N entered the shop. As her eyes roamed the store Y/N could see Fred talking with someone with a smile on his face.

Angelina Johnson.

Y/N didn’t hate the girl they were friends in school. But when Fred and Y/N were just friends he told her he had a crush on Angelina which made Y/N jealous.

But she could never hate Angelina. She was so sweet and Angelina even reassured Y/N that she didn’t like Fred.

But now Y/N could feel her stomach turn as Fred laughed at something Angelina said. Did he still have feelings for her? Is that why he was around as much?

Y/N felt tears brim her eyes as Fred looked so happy. And it hurt her so much to see that he wasn’t happy with her.

She bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing and breaking down.

Y/N rushed out of the shop with tears staining her cheeks as she ran home getting looks from strangers.

Once Y/N reached the flat Y/N took her jacket off and let out a sob as she laid down her and Fred’s bed.

Y/N curled up into a ball trying to get herself to calm down. She didn’t understand why Fred was treating herself this way.

Y/N thought she would be happy with him.

Y/N put her hand on her stomach where there would be a bump in months. She didn’t know what to do now.

Y/N must’ve cried for hours when she heard Fred yell “I’m home.”

Y/N looked at the clock and noticed it was 5 with a surprised look on her face. Y/N could hear Fred enter the bed room with a confused look on his face.

“What’s wrong love,” Fred asked and he sounded concerned. This was the first time she heard Fred sound like he cared for her in a while.

“Nothing,” Y/N scoffed rolling her eyes at the red haired boy.

“Odiously something’s,” Fred sat down on the foot of the bed by the side of the bed she was. He put his hand on her leg and gave it a squeeze to get her attention.

“What,” Y/N snapped sitting up to look up at him.

“Why’re you crying love,” Fred asked concern lacing his words as he cupped Y/N’s cheek wiping the tears away.

“Why do you care,” Y/N could feel more tears coming and with her being pregnant didn’t help her.

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you,” Fred softly replied.

“Why now?” Y/N questioned as he gave her a confused look. “Huh. For the last few months you have been avoiding me not talking to me and now you want to know how I feel,” She could feel anger fume in her as Fred looked at her.

“I don’t know what your talking about,” Fred avoided eye contact.

“Just stop lying you’re happy with everyone but me. Hell you’re even more happy with other girls than me,” Y/N huffed looking at the boy.

“I haven’t been talking to other girls,” Fred snapped.

“I saw you with Angelina laughing and smiling and talking,” Y/N whispered angrily.

“We were just talking and why were you at the shop,” Fred asked annoyance in his eyes.

He knows he’s being unreasonable and he knows he’s been distance. Fred didn’t mean to be but when other people asked how he was he could lie but not to Y/N.

“I wanted to tell you I was pregnant but you looked pretty busy,” Y/N had irritation in her voice as she shouted.

“What,” Fred asked flabbergasted with his eyes wide and his face full of shock.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N huffed and went to lay down even thought it’s only 5:20.

But Fred doesn’t let her as he grabs her hand to pull her up into a hug. He hides his face in the crook of her neck missing the smell of her shampoo.

“I can’t believe it,” Fred smiled.

“Fred we’ve barely talked the last months and now you just won’t leave me alone,” Y/N snapped pushing him away.

“I’m so sorry love,” Fred looked at Y/N with tears coating his eyes.

“I just want to know why,” Y/N desperately asked feeling out of ideas.

“I couldn’t lie to you,” Fred blurted out.

“What,” Y/N asked as she scrunched her face up with confusion.

“When you ask me if I was fine I can’t say yes like with everyone else,” Fred whispered. Y/N looks up at him with sorrow in her eyes. “Ever since the war it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes and I wake up with nightmares bothering you.”

“Fred,” Y/N whispered reaching towards to touch his face. “You could’ve just talked to me,” She smiles at him.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Fred rolled his eyes at himself feeling horrible for the way he treated the love of his life.

“You could never bother me with your problems,” Y/N removed her hand from his face grabbing his hand.

“Will you forgive me,” Fred asked hoping he could get another chance.

“Yes,” Y/N sighed and she loved the way his eyes brightened. “But we have to talk more often please,” She pleaded.

“Of course of course,” Fred rushed out and grabbed Y/N’s face to kiss her.

“I love you so much darling.”

“I love you too Freddie.”

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catxsnow · 4 years

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MOTHER DOESN’T KNOW BEST D.W.

Request: Would it be possible to request a Damian one shot abt him protecting you from Talia? Like she dosent like you at all so she tries to either kill you or manipulate you into breaking up with Damian.

Warning: Violence, angst, Talia being a b i t c h, mentions of blood.

A/N: Take two people. Never trusting mobile to post ever again. Anyways, I hope you enjoy rather than getting just the title lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Damian didn't like Gotham at first. It was cold, gross, the city was filled with those who didn't understand the greatness outside of the city walls. He hated being away from his mother and grandfather, as well as the strict rule that his father had given him. He was no prince there, he was nothing but a rich man's son.

It seemed at first that Bruce was doing everything in his power to suppress everything that Damian grew up with. No killing, no servants, even hiding him in the shadows with the assumption that his mother was going to take him back. It made Damian feel like this was never meant to be his home.

Even when moving to the Titan Tower, he still didn't feel at home. The people there were childish, irresponsible, he didn't fit in there as well. He didn't fit in anywhere until he met you.

You had joined the Teen Titans just a week after Damian had arrived. A broken upbringing with nothing but your mentors trying to get you to succeed where they never could. You had skills, too many not to put them to use. So, when Kori found you, she welcomed you with open arms - a home that would treat you right.

Much like Damian, you were cold and cut off. Maybe that was what attracted him to you, or maybe it was your skills that put him up for a challenge. Either way, Damian felt flustered around you and he hated it. Lucky for him, you were much the same way.

One long night of sparring with him - an endless battle that neither of you would admit defeat - you had finally broke him down. Damian had you pinned, and as much as he didn't want to let his guard down, he couldn't stop himself from leaning in to kiss you. He never acted like this, like a hormonal teenage boy.

Late night patrols, early morning training, as many hours throughout the day you would spend together. Your teammates - Beast Boy in particular - continuously felt left out whenever you and Damian were together. Only Dick was happy to see that the two of you were spending so much time together.

You were good for Damian. He was less harsh, more willing to accept others, hell he even said thank you more often. It wasn't like you had meant to change him - he just thrived to be a better person because of you. You were everything to him.

When years passed and it was time came for him to move back to Gotham, you had come with him. Damian wouldn't dare to leave you again. Not when he swore that he found - as many would say - his soulmate. You loved Damian, more than anyone ever had his whole life. The feeling for him was new, but he couldn't get enough of it.

It was the first time you were in Gotham. Just like the rumors, the city was horrifying. Crime was everywhere, people dying in the streets, you didn't know how Damian lived there for so long. This wasn't your home, but Damian was. Wherever he wanted to go, you were there with him.

Damian grabbed your hand from across the seat. He was you worried as you looked out the windows. Bruce's home was far nicer than anything you had seen so far, but the drive was still far enough away. You smiled as Damian kissed the back of your hand, a small gesture that made your heart flutter every time.

"You could have stayed, I would have come visit you often," Damian offered to you. A joking smile was on his face. He knew damn well that you weren't going to just stay with the Titans when he was across the country. You loved him too much to have that distance.

"Damian Wayne, if you think I'm gonna let you out of my sight you're mistaken," you half joked. Of course you trusted him with every fiber of your being, but you also knew how damn reckless he was. Bruce would have his back, but he needed a partner, not a leader. "Besides I know you don't sleep well at night."

Damian rolled his eyes. He had told you once that he slept better with you in his arms and you hadn't let him live it down since. You meant this in the best way, you loved to be the reason that Damian felt at peace. However, being in this city, you weren't sure how much peace you would have.

The gates of the Manor finally pulled into sight. You couldn't get over how massive his home was. Damian squeezed your hand as your mouth dropped in shock. You knew how rich Bruce Wayne was, but this? This was crazy. His home was larger than any home that you had ever seen.

Damian's excitement for you quickly changed. Instead of the empty drive way that he had expected, a singular person stood by the door. You watched as his nerves grew tense. It was a woman, dark skin and long hair. She stood as if she expected the world to bow at her feet.

"What's wrong?"

"My mother." You suddenly understood why he was so worried. Damian's mother was cruel, unloving, and only craved power. It had been years since she had dropped Damian off in Gotham and the same amount of time since he had seen her last. Whatever Talia was here for, it couldn't have been good.

The car barely stopped before Damian jumped out. His fists were tight at his sides as he approached his mother. Although you were sure he wished for you to stay in the car, you couldn't just wait. Talia looked less than pleased to see you stepping out of the same vehicle as her son.

Damian joined his mother's gaze. The grim look on his face softened as he saw you. As much as he didn't want you meeting his mother, he was glad that you were there to support him. Unlike usual, he didn't grab your hand, nor did you make the move to. Talia was not the kind of lady you wanted to make a bad first impression on.

It didn't seem to matter though. You hadn't said, or done anything, and she was already glaring at you. To her surprise, you only shot her the same look back. Bad impression or not, you were going to stand up for yourself. Damian would keep you safe, even if it was against his own mother.

"Who is this, Damian?" She asked. Talia acted as if you weren't even there. Damian had told you about her, but you never expected her to be this bad within the first five minutes of meeting her. Moving to Gotham, you were worried enough about meeting Bruce without his cape and cowl, you didn't think you would have to see her as well.

"This is (Y/N)," Damian told her. "A valued teammate, as well as... my beloved," he confessed while grabbing onto your hand for the first time since leaving the car. Talia's eyes narrowed at you - of course she had known everything about you. She kept eyes on Damian, and when you popped up, she learned everything there was to know.

Which meant that she already knew of your relationship. And, if you were to guess correctly, she knew of your departure to Gotham alongside her son. The whole reason she was in Gotham was to see you, or more so to analyze you. Damian should have been with royal blood, not a street scum like you.

"I want you to come home, Damian," Talia suddenly announced. While you only looked up in shock, Damian's face hardened. This was so like her - the second that he was happy and finally feeling at home she had to come in and ruin it. This time, he wouldn't allow it. She didn't control him anymore, no one did. Not even Bruce.

"No," he disagreed. His grip on your hand tightened - whether in frustration or a reminder that you were there - you weren't sure. "I am home. Gotham, the Titans, with (Y/N), this is my home now. I'm not leaving here, not now, not ever. Father is my legal guardian now, not you. You made sure of that when you left me stranded here."

"Damian you belong with me, you belong in the League," Talia's voice was tight. She was obviously trying not to take him by force, not while you were there. Damian was her son, and she would get him back by any means necessary. "Take your grandfather's place, this was what you were meant to do."

"I meant to be Robin," Damian argued. He had done great things under his new alias. So many lives saved, he had learned so much from being there. He learned from Bruce, Dick, his friends, you. He learned so much from you - he learned to love, not to fight. "I'm staying."

"I think it's time for you to go," You spoke up for the first time. If Talia's looks could kill, you would have been dead ten times over. No one ever talked back to her like that, and for someone as lowly as you? She couldn't accept it. If it wasn't for Damian stepping between the two of you, you swore that she would have made an attempt on your life right there.

Without another word, Talia left the Manor. You didn't realize how tight your grip on Damian was until he placed his other hand over yours. You loosened your hold, and as soon as his mother was out of sight, collapsed into his arms. Damian held you tight, though he wasn't sure if it was for your assurance or his.

"It's okay, my love," Damian whispered. He kissed the top of your head, your forehead, and finally your lips. "She won't be an issue for us, not while we're with my father."

"I trust you, Damian. Always."

It had been weeks since you were in Gotham. Bruce had taken you under his wing for the time being. Damian was protective of you as always, he wouldn't let you leave without him. To be honest you were happy that he was at you side. Gotham wasn't the kind of place you wanted to venture on your own.

It was different without your teammates watching you back. You only had Damian to have your six and sometimes that lead to some close calls. In the end, he always kept you safe. No matter the situation, he would protect you at all costs.

On that cold night, Damian had gone out with his father, leaving you home alone. Your wrist ached from your previous night, and although you promised that you were fine to go out, Damian insisted that you stayed in. So, with your wrist wrapped and a movie playing, you felt more relaxed than you had in weeks.

Damian left you that evening with a firm kiss and a promise that he would be back before you knew it. As always, you melted into his hold, never wanting to let him leave you. He left with promises to you of making up for it in anyway he could. Damian just wanted you happy while he was home.

He thrived every day to see you smile. Seeing you happy was the only thing that he cared about anymore. So, seeing your pout as he hopped into the Batmobile beside his father nearly convinced him to stay with you. Alfred was gone for the night which meant that you would be truly alone for the first time since you had joined the Titans. The silence would be tranquil.

Unfortunately for you, that peace didn't last long.

After training to be a hero your whole life, you could feel when someone was sneaking up on you. At first, you assumed it to be a robbery; Bruce was rich. But as Batman? His security was near impossible to get into. Whoever this was, they were good. Really good. Your phone buzzed beside you, but you didn't have the time to check what it was.

The blade of a sword sliced through the air, narrowly missing you. You had been just quick enough to roll out of the way. The intruder wore a mask covering the lower half of their face, but you had known instantly who this was. Talia Al Ghul.

You assumed she had come alone. If she saw you as nothing but a low-life hero from the streets, then she assumed that she could handle you by herself. Truth be told, you had never gone against someone as skilled as her, she could easily handle you on your own, especially with your weakened wrist.

You ran through the room and towards the kitchen. It was far closer than the entrance of the cave - and you were sure that she knew where it was as well. Talia ran after you. She ducked the second she ran into the kitchen - you had thrown the closest frying pan towards her head. Thankfully it distracted her enough to grab some sort of weapon - a knife.

It was much shorter than her sword and it felt awkward in your opposite hand. You hoped that Damian and Bruce were already on their way back, that it was him texting you earlier, but you knew not to get your hopes up. Alfred was gone for the night and you were truly alone in the house.

Talia twirled the blade around before lunging at you. She did attack after attack, each one barely being blocked by your knife. You needed to get to the cave, at least then you stood a chance with some actual weapons. Unfortunately, you weren't quick enough to block her next shot.

Talia's sword sliced through your shirt and into your arm. Blood soaked your skin as you cried out in pain. You knew that she didn't like you, but to go as far as to assassinate you within her son's home? That was pushing far past being a terrible mother.

Glass shattered as you ducked from her next shot. The lights above you sparked as she broke though them. The room had become pitch black and you only hoped to use that as an advantage. You knew this house far better than she did.

As long as you could get a head start to the cave, you would be fine. Silently, you slipped past her, hoping to avoid the crunch of broken glass on the floor. Talia was a trained assassin, sneaking around her would be impossible - and it was. The second she heard your footsteps, she had blindly attacked.

The tip of her sword nicked your cheek, but it was enough to let her know exactly where you were. Without caution anymore, you ran full speed to the entrance of the cave. Thankfully, you had made it before her.

You grabbed the first weapon you could see - Damian's backup sword. It felt heavy in your opposite hand, but as soon as you tried to hold it in your dominant, you nearly cried out in pain. Damian was right, you were too hurt to go out that night; then again maybe it would have been safer if you had. Talia must have been waiting for the opportunity that you were alone.

Talia stood before you, her mask still up. "What's wrong, Talia?" You asked, her eyes narrowed as you said her name. "Jealous that your son loves me more than you? Or maybe that Bruce cares for me more than he did you? This isn't about Damian not coming home, this is more personal than that, isn't it?"

"Damian belongs with royalty," Talia ripped off her mask. You knew that you were riling her up, but you only hoped that it would waste enough time for Damian to come, if he was coming. This was a fight you could not win alone, you knew that. "You're nothing but filth off the streets."

"So what, you're gonna kill me?" You backed away from her. Your heart rate was erratic from fear. Damian was a damn good fighter, but his mother? She was deadly. "How're you going to explain that one to him? How do you think he's going to react when he finds out that you killed the person he loves? He'll never want to see you again."

"He's never going to know it was me!" Talia raised her voice. She charged towards you, bringing her weapon down towards you. You just barely blocked it. The sword was extremely uncomfortable in your hold but you it was far better than a measly kitchen knife. She could tell you were weak from it.

Talia pushed down harder, the edge of her sword coming dangerously close to your face. In the blink of an eye, she pulled away and grabbed your weakened wrist. Talia slammed it into her knee, making you scream in agony. You dropped your weapon to grab your now broken wrist, falling right into her palm of her hands.

A forceful kick was placed against your ribs, knocking you down and making you completely at her mercy. Your body screamed in unbearable pain. Blood soaked your clothes, your bones broken or cracked. Talia had taken you down in a mere matter of minutes. You never stood a chance against someone like her.

To your surprise, Talia dropped her sword as well. There was no way that she had suddenly changed her mind or decided to give up, she had you right where she wanted you. The smirk on her face, knowing that she had defeated you so easily, was etched into your brain. Whatever she was planning, she had already won.

Talia pulled out the gun strapped to her thigh. You hadn't even noticed it until this moment. There was no way that you would ever dodge a bullet, not at this range. With a last chance of hope, you reached out for you sword once more - but she was too quick. A bullet shot rang out as it bounced off the floor inched from your hand.

You retracted back to your place, looking up at her with a grim look. There was no chance you were about to plead for you life. Talia had the gun pointed directly at your forehead. "You'll never have my son."

"Neither will you." Blood dripped down your face. You gripped onto your wrist, and tried to steady your breathing. You refused to look away from Talia's murderous eyes. Death awaited you - that was something you had to accept. Talia had no mercy.

Suddenly, a light blinded Talia's face. Her gaze was averted, but that wasn't what caused you to falter. A loud shot echoed through the cave, followed by a searing pain. In her brief moment of loss of attention, Talia had pulled the trigger. She had missed her hopeful target, instead the bullet and pierced your shoulder, creating a sickening crack as it went through bone.

"NO!" You knew this to be Damian's voice. He hovered above you, panic written all over. His hands pressed into your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. He could hear the battle of his mother and father but all that mattered was you. He was petrified for you. Your eyes wavered, wanting so desperately to fall asleep.

"You're going to be okay. I promise, stay with me. Beloved, you're gonna be fine. Stay awake, please. Please I need you. I need you to stay with me." He was the last thing you saw as darkness clouded over you.

Talia had done a lot of damage to you. The cut on your arm, and your cheek needed stitched. Your collar bone practically shattered and you would need to wear a brace for months before it was healed. The wrist she had snapped would heal like any other broken wrist would. Cracked ribs and a broken ego. You were benched for a long time to come.

Damian wouldn't leave you side. He was there if you needed anything or if you were in pain. Guilt clouded him, he should have known that his mother would do something like this. He was a fool to leave you alone like that. Never again.

"Be careful, beloved."

You liked the attention from him. Damian was at your side more than he ever was before. In private, he was constantly covering you in kisses. He showed a side of himself that you or anyone else had never seen before. It was nice to see him so... normal.

Damian spent every spare moment with you. Whether it was helping you with simple tasks that you were yet to be able to accomplish or be there to give you a kiss when you were feeling down. The last thing he wanted to see was for you to fall into a funk because of his mother. He tried his best to keep your spirits up but this was hard. Harder than anything you had done.

Years of being the one to save people and now you were the one that needed to be saved. It was unbearable. You hated the feeling of constantly needing help. Damian made sure to not suffocate you, he knew what it was like to hate feeling pitied.

Evenings were spent trying to get you back on your feet. Nights spent with Alfred, watching of your boyfriend and his father. Damian coming home to smoother you with attention the second that you were alone in his room. That was your favourite part of the days.

Everyone hoped your recovery to be speedy - even your teammates went out of their way to visit you. It was nice to see all your friends together again, as well as the rest of Damian's family that you had finally met. It seemed that everyone had gained a vendetta against Talia that night.

"Damian, I can do this, you just have to give me some space."

When you finally got the cast on your wrist off, you had gone straight back into training. Much to Damian's dismay - as well as your doctor's. The sling was still on your shoulder, and would be for several more weeks. However, you were tired of sitting around like this. You felt weak from the lack of training.

Damian watched as you stood under the pull up bar. You eyed it, curious as to if you really could do this or not. In one swift motion, you jumped up and grabbed the bar with your single hand. Holding yourself up wasn't the issue, it was a matter of if you could pull yourself up with only one hand like you used to.

With all the strength you could muster, you attempted to do a chin up. You had almost made it before your arm gave out on you. Your hand slipped from the bar and you barely landed on both feet. Damian was by your side in a second, though he could see how frustrated you were at this. He understood not being able to achieve what he wanted most.

"You don't have to prove your strength to me, beloved," Damian assured. He cupped your cheeks with both hands, pulling you in for a quick kiss. However, as the pad of this thumb swiped across the scar that his mother left he frowned. Even after all this time he still blamed himself of this.

"And you don't have to feel guilty for what happened," You countered. You placed your palm over top of his a small smile on your lips. "You came and saved me, that's what matters. Like you, Bruce, everyone, said, I'll get back to where I was eventually. Things like this happen, I can't let it stop me."

"You're too brave," Damian shook his head. Always pushing your limits, defying your odds. As much as he admired it, he wished that you wouldn't. Damian wanted you safe, and sometimes he questioned if that was ever going to be found while you were with him. However, he wasn't willing to lose you to test it. You were by his side, always.

"I learned it from you, my love."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #damian wayne x reader #older!damian #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #robin #robin imagine

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (7)

Till Then

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Well, it’s spooky season! You know what that means? OH BOY SPOOKFEST!!!

FF.net | Ao3

This investigation was not going well.

First of all, she hadn’t attended the funeral. Perhaps she should have, to keep up appearances, but she couldn’t stomach sitting through the service while knowing there were no bodies in the caskets.

It was wrong.

She gave poor excuses to Alya and Nino, and skipped it. Maybe if she had gone, she could have learned more, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t stand it.

Later that evening, Ladybug made a visit to the cemetery where the family crypt was. She allowed Tikki to do the actual investigating. She phased into the dirt of the freshly buried, unmarked grave, and concurred, it was the same coffin from before, with only sandbags inside.

Gabriel’s too, over at the crypt.

“Not much else to glean from this place,” Tikki said sadly. “Where to next?”

“Actually,” Marinette wondered. “I have a hunch. Could you check Emilie’s casket too? She’s been dead for a while, so I apologize if what you see is…awful.”

“I’ve seen worse. I’ll take a look!”

Marinette waited anxiously, biting into her thumb nail. She really hoped she was wrong. Really really hoped.

Tikki reappeared, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re hunch was right. Emilie’s is just sandbags too.”

She groaned, dread bleeding into her bones. “Damn it.”

“Maybe they’re all together?”

“At this point, I don’t know if I should even hope for that. Emilie has been gone for years. Wherever she is…I doubt we’ll ever find her, let alone Adrien and Plagg.”

“We’re not giving up though, right?”

“Of course not!”

Marinette knew she had a chance of answers at the funeral home. The director knew more than he was letting on, but she had asked too many questions as Marinette, and going in to interrogate him as Ladybug would probably put her identity in jeopardy. She’d have to think on that one, and try to find a way around it.

Now for the ‘basement’.

Till then, my darling, please wait for me

Till then, no matter when it will be

Someday I know I'll be back again

Please wait till then

Since Felix had confirmed that the Mansion didn’t have a basement, she assumed the office building did. Nowhere else did Gabriel or Adrien spend a significant amount of time.

While the workers were still on their vacation, she went in. There was still a secretary, though she was dressed in casual clothes, and the doors were closed to the public.

“Hi Miss Dupain-Cheng. Working today?”

“Um, something like that. Organizing some stuff.”

“Alright, well, let me know if you need anything. I’m just here to tell clients that we’re off for a while.”

Marinette smiled. “Thank you. Um...perhaps, do you know if there’s a basement?”

“Basement? Uh...there might be one. I’m not sure. The main elevator doesn’t go there.”

“Alright. I’ll look around then,” she smiled patiently and bid the woman adieu.

The building was unsettling without anyone in it. Half the lights were turned down, and the only sounds were the hum of the air conditioning and her footsteps echoing in the dim hallways.

Several years ago, when she had first started, she was given a tour. A tour that seemed so unimportant then, she was scraping for now. There was a back staircase, in case of fire. That much she could remember.

The big iron door slammed shut behind her as she entered the stairs. There was a door with an Exit sign over it, the outside world on the other side. A set of stairs went up and around, to every floor above.

But there was one more door. Labelled with a big ‘SS’ for ‘Sous-sol’.

‘Basement’, in French.

“Tikki! I found it!” She said to her purse.

“Great job! Let’s get to the bottom of things!”

Marinette screwed up her lips. “Pun intended?”

“In memory of Chat Noir, yes.”

“That is what he would have said, isn’t it? God, I miss him so much.” But she decided not to mourn her best friend in the dank, spider-infested stairwell.

Of course, the door was locked.

“Nothing is ever simple, is it? I wonder who would have the key. Janitor? Maybe Gabriel has a set in his old office.”

“Aren’t you forgetting your ultimate skeleton key?” Tikki asked.

“...um, yes, apparently.”

Tikki flew from the purse, and phased through the door handle. It clicked a moment later, and the handle turned.

“Wow, you’re convenient. Remind me to ask for favors in breaking and entering more often.”

“Anything for you, Marinette!”

She felt along the wall, found a lightswitch, and turned it on. Deep below, a few scant lights flickered to life.

And in the columns of flickering light stood silhouetted figures. Still, waiting.

Marinette held her breath, afraid she had been caught.

“Tikki…” She readied herself to transform the moment they moved. She was still in the dark, they wouldn’t have seen her.

Seconds ticked on. They stood, never flinching, never so much as breathing.

“Oh my god, they’re mannequins,” she breathed. “I mean, duh but holy shit that was terrifying.”

She descended the stairs, one at a time, still being quiet, and keeping her eyes glued to the forms.

They didn’t move, because they were plastic, and as she drew closer to them, she realized how fake they were.

They weren’t even good mannequins. The paint was chipping and the proportions looked odd.

“These go in shop windows, right?” Asked Tikki. “I’ve seen a few from your purse.”

“That’s right. These look really old. I’m surprised they haven’t been recycled.”

“Is this what Adrien wanted you to see?”

“I doubt it. What would mannequins have to do with anything?”

Tikki shrugged too, and looked around.

It was the worst three hours of her life.

But because Adrien had used what was presumably his dying words to tell her to look here, she scoped that place out thoroughly. She named all the mannequins, to try to take the edge off. It didn’t really help, but it made ‘James’ the eerily realistic mannequin that stood in the shadows a little more friendly instead of a murderer in waiting.

There was nothing there except old clothes, rejected materials, and a whole lot of new friends that Marinette never wanted to see again.

As Marinette pushed aside the 9th box filled with 70’s paisley shirts, she sighed. “I think...I think I’m looking in the wrong place.”

“I agree,” Tikki said, her antenna drooping. “I think we should have found something by now, right?”

“I couldn’t even find any inspiration down here.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw something, and turned quickly.

“What?” Said Tikki wearily, already knowing what was wrong.

“Another freaking mannequin! I swear they’re moving when I’m not looking at them!”

“They can’t do that.”

“I know that, but my eyes are tired and my heart is on the edge, and coffee isn’t working on my brain anymore!”

“I think we should leave then. Maybe try looking at the mansion again. Maybe there’s a basement that Felix didn’t know about.”

At that moment, her phone chirped with a message from Nathalie.

Please don’t forget, tomorrow, despite it being Saturday, your presence is required at the Agreste Manor. Gabriel’s Last Will and Testament will be reviewed, and you have been named. Since Mr. Agreste is so famous, we have asked all beneficiaries to attend. Sunday, you have off.

“Well, looks like I have an excuse to go back to the mansion after all. Probably should get in there and explore quickly. I have no idea what’s going to happen to it in the wake of...well, you know.”

“Someone is probably going to inherit it. Probably Felix now. He seemed rather friendly at the funeral. He might let you snoop.”

“Friendly?”

“More than usual, at least. But who knows how long that will last.”

“If I have to show my cards to investigate, I will. If Ladybug has to break in, I will. I’m not going down in silence.”

Our dreams will live though we are apart

Our love I know we'll keep in our hearts

Till then, when all the world will be free

Please wait for me

True to form, she arrived the next day at the mansion.

As she came into the parlor, where many people were gathered, Felix caught her eye. He jerked his head, gesturing for her to come sit by him.

As she sat, she looked at the others gathered. She recognized Nathalie, of course, Amelie and Felix, and Mayor Bourgeois. There were a few other people she didn’t know. One she had seen at the company, but she couldn’t remember his name right now.

“So,” she asked softly. “Is the lawyer going to read the Will out?”

Felix scoffed. “They don’t do that anymore. We’re just all going to get a copy, and the lawyer will be here if we have questions. Normally, I’m pretty sure they mail it, but I heard that the Will is sealed so they wanted us to get it in person.”

“Sealed?”

“Meaning no one else can read it. Last Wills and Testaments are public records after death. Unless they are sealed.”

“Uh. I didn’t know any of that. This is my first time being in a Will. Well, I think my dad has one, but he’s still alive.”

“Good for you.”

“That is—I mean—I wasn’t trying to—“

“Just shut up, Dupain-Cheng.” He chuckled. “You are so sensitive.”

She just childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

A moment later, Nathalie and a white haired gentleman arrived.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming. This is Dr. Nathaniel Grey, the Agreste family lawyer and executor of their estate. Now, everyone listed in the Will will receive a copy. Each copy has the same content, but for convenience, I have highlighted your name.” And she started to hand out the packets, calling out names as she did so.

Some of the strangers had the last name ‘Agreste’ so they had to have been related to Gabriel.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette held out her hand to receive the thick white envelope.

“Oh Felix!” Amelie cooed. “Emilie left you her corvette! She loved that car, I know she’d be proud for you to have it.”

“I’ve seen it. Beautiful classic car. I’m honored.” As much of an ass as he was, Felix sounded genuine in that sentiment.

To not seem too eager, Marinette carefully opened the envelope. As she did, she tried to imagine what he would have left her. A share in the company maybe? Maybe a family sewing machine? Nothing much, surely.

She unfurled the sheet and wow that was a lot of pink.

“What the hell?” Felix gasped, looking over her shoulder. He glanced back at his page, and frowned in confusion. “No offense Marinette, but what the hell?”

“I…I don’t even know…” She glanced over the assets willed to her.

Gabriel left her the mansion.

Up until that moment, she had forgotten she was supposed to be looking for a new place after Nino and Alya got married. She had mentioned it to Gabriel once, off-handed, and he seemed to not really care.

But if he left the house to her, could he have cared more than she thought?

The mansion wasn’t the only thing he left to her, either. He left his share of the company stocks, as well as trusts and bonds. Marinette had become a multi-millionaire.

“What’s the meaning of this, Dr. Grey!?” A woman shouted.

The shout drew all attention to her. She was a rail thin, tall woman, with high cheek bones and blonde-white hair tied up in a bun.

“What seems to be the problem, Madam Laurent?”

“I was left a small fraction of stock and my mother’s ashes, but this—this half breed harlot gets the entire estate!?”

Marinette flinched, feeling guilty and wholly undeserving of Mr. Agreste’s gift.

Thankfully, Nathalie of all people came to her aid. “Miss Dupain-Cheng has been working tirelessly and closely with Gabriel to continue his brand. She’s been named head designer for his company, and everything left to her is to help in that endeavor.”

As she and Felix looked over the list of gifts, she wondered how true that was.

“But I’m his sister!” Said Madam Laurent. “I take precedence over her!”

“Not with a will, you don’t.” Dr. Grey explained. “Children are the only protected heirs in French law. The rest of his estate is his to do with as he pleases.”

Marinette looked back at all the pink highlights. She began to wonder if they served a purpose in distracting everyone from the obvious.

Adrien wasn’t on there. Not once.

Although there are oceans we must cross

And mountains that we must climb

I know every gain must have a loss,

So pray that our loss is nothing but time

He couldn’t be disinherited from the Will, not under French law. And yet he was missing…like the Will had been drawn up with the knowledge that Adrien wouldn’t be alive once it was valid.

Pale and shaking, Marinette turned to look at Felix.

“Don’t let her get to you, Kid,” he nudged her, taking her appearance for still being put off by the woman. “Gabriel’s family has always been lower middle class, before he became famous. She probably just wanted a bunch of money…whereas most of it was my Aunt’s and it was returned to our family. Does that make sense?”

Marinette shook her head, and then whispered. “Adrien isn’t here.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. He’s gone, Marinette.”

“No!” She shouted, then hushed herself as the others turned to look. “No, I mean…he’s not here.” She pointed at the Will.

Felix grew pale too, and poured over the Will himself. “No way…how…but—maybe it was an assumption. Maybe it was assumed that Adrien was going to inherit half anyway, so he made the Will in case something happened?”

“Dr. Grey,” Marinette stood and walked to him. “How old is this version of the Will?”

Nathalie gave her a sharp look, but didn’t comment.

“Well, a little over a week, actually. Gabriel called me and asked to make some changes.”

“And why isn’t his son in here?” She asked, darkly.

Dr. Grey screwed up his lips. “You know, I don’t know. I told Mr. Agreste what the law was, and he said, ‘just write it up as if Adrien didn’t exist.’ I wonder if he knew what their fate was going to be.”

Marinette tried not to cry. She really did, but she just clenched the document to her chest and sobbed.

“Now now, my dear. Don’t be so blue.”

“Adrien isn’t a murderer! He can’t be!”

“Does it really matter anymore?” The lawyer asked. “The truth of their demise will not be released publicly. Only a handful of people will know. I doubt anyone outside of this room, in fact.” He said it so casually, like nothing was wrong.

“Didn’t you find it suspicious?” She demanded.

“No,” said Dr. Grey. “You would be surprised at how many clients have second versions of Wills without a child in it. Whether it’s because they’re hoping something will happen, or they see their child going down a dangerous road. Or perhaps the child is terminally ill and the parent doubts they will survive longer than them. Regardless of the reason, I choose to not ask questions.”

Marinette wished he had.

Till then, let's dream of what there will be

Till then, we'll call on each memory

Till then, when I will hold you again

Please wait till then

“Now, did you see the conditions?”

“What?” She sniffed.

“Here,” Dr. Grey pointed to an asterisk at the end of the mansion item. “This states that there’s a condition applied, and the condition will be on the backside.”

Marinette wiped her face and turned the paper over.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng must reside within the mansion for ten years. Within that time, she may not redecorate or refurnish any room except for the ‘pink room’. Guests, spouses, and children are welcomed to join her, as long as she is the primary resident. If she is to go on vacation or an extended business trip, the house must be vacant, save for those who would keep it from disrepair. If Miss Dupain-Cheng fails to comply, the house, and all that is in it, must be demolished. It cannot be sold or gifted to anyone until the ten year mark passes.”

Marinette just continued to stare. “I…that’s…really specific.”

“More specific than I suggested, but it’s what Mr. Agreste wanted.”

With a calm expression, but a heart in turmoil, Marinette folded her copy up. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Grey. If you’ll excuse me, I need a minute alone.” She took her copy and quickly walked across the lobby to her office.

There, on her desk, was a vase with a bouquet of roses. She hadn’t been in here since before the funeral, but they looked fresh. No card though.

She set the roses to the side, and unfurled the Will once again, laying it flat on the desktop. She poured over every item, not just Willed to her, but to everyone.

Indeed, there was no sign of Adrien, but also no sign of his property. Did he have his own Will somewhere else?

There was the curious case of Nathalie, who was in the Will, but received only money and trusts. Not an inch of material property, despite her closeness to Gabriel after all these years.

What did she know? What had she seen? Truthfully, Marinette was too afraid to ask.

Tomorrow, she would visit City Hall and get the records of the mansion. Hopefully, there were some blueprints in there, and the hidden basement would be found.

Till then, let's dream of what there will be

Till then, we'll call on each memory

Till then, when I will hold you again

Please wait till then

#miraculous ladybug #ml #fanfiction #the ghost of Smokey Joe #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #tikki #identity reveal #murder mystery #spooky

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evengayerpanic · 4 years

Text

Death Precedes Life [One-Shot]

When death comes for her, she greets it like an old friend - no, she greets it like a lover. With a smile, with a fluttering of her heart, with nothing but peace.

She’s been back at Bly for three months, ever since she fell from a ladder while pruning and broke a hip.

It was the only natural place to go, she decided, as she felt the cold icy fingers of tomorrow brush over her wrist while she lay in hospital for almost a week.

While recovering, she had called Flora, who in turn called Miles and the two of them had set it all up.

Bly still remained in the family, though none of them had stepped foot in the building for over forty years, and so it hadn’t been hard for the two children (though they were hardly children at forty-eight and fifty years, respectively) to make the arrangements.

Miles had hired a live-in nursemaid, and Flora, whom lived a few hours away, left her family each weekend to care for her oldest friend until the nurse returned each Sunday evening to resume her patients care.

The Gardener lived back at Bly for three months; and much like the Lady of the Lake, the Gardener too followed a particular routine as she lived day by day.

She would sleep; in the room that had been her dearest loves, she would lay her head to rest each night and pray to slip away, to return home to 1987.

She would wake; alone and cold in the bed, the thought of the Au Pair slowly fading from her mind as the nurse entered her room to help her ready the day.

She would walk; through the grounds of Bly, the memories coming and going of every single place her lover had touched, greenhouse, forest, kitchens and more. The only place she did not walk, was to the lake, for the possibility of seeing her loves body, what remained of it, haunted her waking dreams.

And she would wait; each day, each night, Jamie would wait to see her beloved again, to be claimed by death and find her way back to the arms of her Dani.

She would sleep.

She would wake.

She would walk.

And she would wait.

Until the day Jamie didn’t need to wait anymore.

It was a Saturday morning. Her nurse had just left for the weekend, and Flora had been running late due to her daughter having an early morning dance practice that her husband hadn’t been available to take her too. It was only a few hours, but hours were enough.

Flora had arrived to find Bly empty.

Jamie was not in the kitchen, drinking a cup of awful tea that Flora always teased her for making so horribly when she knew how to make a proper cuppa.

Jamie was not in her room, nor the parlour, nor her gardens, reminiscing about the past that Flora had unfortunately almost forgotten entirely.

Flora found Jamie by the lake, sitting on the ground and staring at the water with tears in her eyes.

“It’s almost time for her to come get me.”

Flora had begged and pleaded for her dear friend to come inside, to come where it was warm and comfortable, but even as the cold ground seeped into her pajamas, she still would not move from the lake.

“I can’t leave... Not until she comes.”

It was noon when Flora called Miles, voice wracked with sobs. “It’s time... You need to come home.”

He arrived shortly after dinner, finding his sister wrapped in a sweater, sitting beside a blanket draped Jamie, the two of them having not left the ground.

“Come inside, you’ll catch pneumonia.” He demanded of the woman who had once chased him around her gardens, clucking mad after he trampled her peonies.

“Your back probably hurts, lets get you in a comfortable chair inside.” He encouraged the woman who had once plucked him up off the ground and nursed his bloodied knee back to health when he had fallen from his bike as a child and scraped himself on the rough cobblestone, reminding him the whole time that he cried of how tough he was.

“Please don’t leave us yet.” He begged of the woman who had once been his family, who had cared for him and his sister, even if they did pick her roses and shook ladders from underneath her.

But she wouldn’t listen.

And so, Miles and Flora sat beside her in front of the lake for hours, just staring until the moon came out and the night went quiet, and Jamie, their gardener, their friend closed her eyes for the last time.

When Flora noticed that Jamie had stopped moving, stopped speaking, a soft cry had spilled over her lips as she cried out in a dull pain for her brother, “Miles.”

“I know.” He breathed out, his breath hitching as he too noticed that she had slipped away in the night.

The boy and the girl, no longer children, carried the Gardener back to Bly; carefully, gingerly, just like she had done once for a shell-shocked and grieving young Flora over forty years ago one fateful morning.

They brought her to her bed, laid her down, and cried for the memories that they remembered, and for the memories that they didn’t remember as well

_________________

Jamie remained at the lake, no, not physically remained, but with everything else that mattered

She remained by the water until she saw the lake begin to ripple and part, something coming out of the surface... no, not something, not someone.

The Lady of the Lake. Dani. Came to the surface.

And so she greets death; with a smile, with a fluttering of her heart, with a sprint and a hug and a kiss and a cry of, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve waited so long to hold you again.” Dani responds, clinging to Jamie tightly, a sigh of relief and happiness runs through one and out the other connecting them.

“I’m sorry that it took me so lon-” Jamie starts but is cut off by her love’s lips, Dani doesn’t care how long it’s taken, she just cares that she’s there.

“Long is good. Long means that you lived.”

And lived she has, Jamie has seen so much that Dani never got to experience... at least not physically.

She recounts watching Flora graduate, seeing Miles take over his Uncle’s business, a first row seat to Flora’s marriage to her beloved, being the one Miles called first when he got his heart broken, holding Flora’s first child, and second, and third. She has lived for all that Dani could not, it was her lifelong promise.

It’s through the twinkle of Dani’s eye that Jamie knows she’s seen it all too, if slightly differently than her.

They hold each other, heads pressed together, hands linked until Dani says the words Jamie has waited thirty years to hear. “Do you want to go home?”

She says yes.

And as it turns out, home is exactly where Jamie thought it would be. They enter the doors of Bly and it’s like time has been rewound through four decades.

The modern effects, like flat screen televisions and cordless phones have disappeared. The old furnishings have returned, and the smell of Owen’s cooking, and as Dani and Jamie enter the kitchen, they are far from alone, the smiles of their family lighting the room and welcoming them back home.

Henry is not there; for Henry Wingrave, whom died a decade earlier, his home is not the walls of Bly, at least, not the year that they are there. His home is with Charlotte and Dominic, in a time where he still has the woman he loves, and his brother still cares for him. He spends his days there. They never see him, but they know he is happy and that is all that matters.

Miles and Flora never come back to them either. Years down the line, when Miles dies an old man in his wife’s arms, he is welcomed home by his parents, by his Uncle, and eventually his own wife. His home is with them instead, in a time that never existed, but they know he is happy and that is all that matters.

Flora does come back to them, if only briefly, she returns as a child and runs through the manor, her exuberance warming each of the family members that the Manor claimed. They smile even as she leaves, joining her husband and her own children as they pass after her. She’s there for what feels like only a moment, then gone, but they know she is happy, and once again... that is all that matters.

Home for Jamie never goes away though.

Her and Dani spend the rest of eternity in Bly; with Owen, with Hannah, with Rebecca, with each other.

They sleep; wrapped in each other’s arms every night, sometimes they do more than sleep, neither one getting older or changing, just remaining the way they always should have been.

They wake; to greet the day, to taste Owen’s cooking, to reminisce with Hannah, to talk with Rebecca. The days never get monotonous, home never should, and this is home... this is family.

They walk; revisiting themselves in the greenhouse, what could have happened if they had never been interrupted, revisiting the moon flower and it never dying no matter how many nights pass.

They wait; for the shoe to drop, for eternity to be over, for something to go wrong because all any of them have known is that something can always lurk in the darkness, to take you from your love, from your life.

But eternity never ends, family never ends, home never ends, they all remain in exactly the way that they should have always been.

Rebecca.

Hannah.

Dani.

Owen.

And lastly, Jamie.

Vibrant. Full of Life. Happy.

Together.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #thobm spoilers #dani clayton #thobm jamie #thobm dani #dani x jamie #fanfiction #canon continuation #flora wingrave #miles wingrave #owen sharma #hannah grose #henry wingrave

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tvandenneagram · 4 years

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The Haunting of Bly Manor: Hannah Grose - Type 1w9

Hannah is kind, caring and principled. She takes great pride in her job and is generally very responsible.

At her best, Hannah is very nurturing and compassionate. She is a lovely motherly figure to Flora and Miles. Hannah is idealistic and I think she generally tries to see the good in people. I think she shows a great deal of faith and belief throughout the show and I think it is one of her defining traits.

At her worst, Hannah puts her own life on hold for her responsibilities. She represses her own feelings and has trouble even understanding them at times. This even follows Hannah into her death where it takes her a long time to fall out of the denial she is in about what happened to her.

Hannah is protective of the people she cares about and stands up for what is right, like a typical 1. She can’t help herself from stepping in when she sees something wrong going on. We see this in particular with Rebecca and Peter’s relationship, where Hannah tries to tell them both that it shouldn’t be happening. She is quite forthright with telling Rebecca that she thinks Peter is bad news and that he is holding her back.

Hannah sometimes gets stuck in a rut or a situation and doesn’t really know how to get out of it. We see this in her marriage, where her husband had left her long ago but she always wanted to hold out hope that he would come back. It is implied that she stayed married for a long time and didn’t want to face the reality of what he had done. I also think Hannah held the opinion that a ‘good’ wife would stand by her husband and that she shouldn’t get divorced.

I believe that Hannah’s marriage is meant to be drawn as a direct parallel to her eventual fate. She had been gone for a long while, but couldn’t accept it. We see Hannah constantly touching her neck, which suggests she has a subconscious awareness of what happened, but she doesn’t want to face up to it. I think Hannah was really floored by the grisly nature of her death and I think she was also disappointed in all the things she didn’t get to do in her life which led to her denial.

Hannah is quite passive and often keeps her feelings to herself. She had an instant attraction to Owen, but never acted on it. Hannah was afraid of the consequences of dating a co-worker and the potential rejection. I believe that she always knew that she loved Owen, but was afraid of what could happen if she dated him. Hannah knew from his job interview that he was only in Bly for a finite period of time and that he would be leaving when he no longer had to care for his mother. I think Hannah was scared of leaving Bly because its all she knew or was scared of being left which is part of why she was so hesitant in asking out Owen.

I believe that when she is in the memory with Owen, she is actually talking to herself and sorting out her own feelings. I think Owen is somewhat of a reflection of what she thinks but cannot say. When she dies I think she laments all the ‘what could have beens’ with Owen and she regrets the way that she always put her own life on hold. I think that when Owen is being harsh with her, it is really Hannah who is angry with herself. I think that in these scenes, Owen also has to tell her the hard truths that she can’t bear to face. Like I said before, Hannah always was subconsciously aware of what happened but had trouble owning up. I think that with Owen’s kind face and words she could ease herself out of her denial and face reality.

Hannah has a wing 9, as she is more emotionally detached than a wing 2 would be. She is also more reserved and more prone to avoidance than a wing 2 would be.

Tri-type: 1w9 - 6w5 - 2w1

Some quotes to describe Hannah’s traits and motivations:

“Funerals are for the living. It’s up to the living to decide what they can and cannot bear.”

“What have you got when your back’s against the wall, when there’s nothing left for you but faith”

“There’s a difference between feeling good and feeling alive. The two aren’t always the same.”

“I don't know why brilliant young women are always punished.”

“You don't have to lose yourself to find happiness, you know.”

“We can’t count on the past. We think we have it trapped in our memories, but memories fade and they’re wrong. Any of us could die at any moment, or we could forget our entire lives, which is kind of like dying.”

“Here. Right here, this moment. ‘What a curious and charming man,’ I thought. Oh, it had been so long, I'd forgotten that feeling, but… I looked at you, and… I almost forgot myself for a moment. God knows I've tried not to think of you. Very hard, but I… I've thought of you often. Thinking about the places we would go if we were ever to leave Bly. Where we'd settle. You'd open your restaurant. Make me taste all those wonderful recipes you created in that beautiful, maddening mind of yours. I always think that I would very much like… to spend the rest of my days with you. Listening to your dreadful puns, holding your hand, and… I loved you, Owen. I should have told you.”

“Tell him I love him. The rest, well, its just -”

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frenchfrysplash · 3 years

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fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 1/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She's here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

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They say a dream takes only a second or so, and yet in that second a man can live a lifetime. He can suffer and die, and who's to say which is the greater reality: the one we know or the one in dreams, between heaven, the sky, the earth"- Perchance to Dream," The Twilight Zone, Episode 1x09

April 1984

Jamie's fingers twisted together, so tight it almost hurt.

The kitchen of Bly Manor was silent, save for a clock ticking on the wall, driving Jamie slowly insane. Her heart was thrumming in her chest, the starch of her collared shirt itching at her throat. She should have chosen a blouse, something more feminine, instead of the slacks and grey button up she wore. Who knew what the Wingraves would think of her? They might take one look at her and send her home, not wanting their grounds cared for by a dy-

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Tayler!"

Jamie practically leapt out of her seat, almost knocking the chair over. Charlotte Wingrave swept into the room like a breeze on a warm day, her smile lighting up the kitchen and making the corners of Jamie's lips pull up of their own accord. She reached across the table to shake Jamie's hand, and Jamie found herself resisting the ridiculous urge to pull Charlotte's hand towards her to kiss her knuckles. Charlotte Wingrave, with her dark hair, her kind eyes, and her easy elegance, seemed to inspire the chivalrous side of Jamie's nature. It had been the same the first time they met, when Jamie called on the manor to answer the ad for a new gardener.

"Don't worry about it," Jamie said. And cleared her throat. "I wasn't waiting long. And please, call me Jamie."

"Well, thank you, Jamie" Charlotte settled herself in the seat opposite. "I do try to be on time, but, with two young children, the day does get away from you."

"I can only imagine, ma'am," Jamie replied, sitting back down. "I knew a pair of kids once, right pair of wee gremlins they-"

She stopped, furrowing her brow. She had never known any children, had none of her own, and didn't know anyone with kids. She wasn't sure what had made her say that, but fortunately, Charlotte didn't pursue the tangent.

"Now, you told me you were interested in the gardener position when you dropped by the other day," Charlotte said, hands folding in front of her. "The letter you wrote was excellent, and you seem to have plenty of experience. So tell me, what interests you about the job?"

"Oh, well," Jamie sat up a little straighter, trying to ignore her sweaty palms. "I've been working as a labourer for a landscaping company in London. Worked on a lot of different gardens, all over the city." She paused, trying to work out how to say the next part. "If I'm honest, I wanted to get out to the countryside. London is a bit fast-paced for me, even with growing plants, and I've been wanting to slow down. It's like," Jamie hands came up, like she was trying to pull the words out of the air, "people there don't understand that growth takes time. I thought somewhere like this," she gestured vaguely, "somewhere with so much history, so much growth over time, I thought, somewhere like that, the people might just get it."

She held her breath, hoping she hadn't put Charlotte off with her speech. But Charlotte was smiling, and nodding along. Jamie felt herself smile back.

"Very good," Charlotte said, voice warm and approving. "Now, with this position, you would be responsible for the upkeep of the entire grounds. Does that sound like something you're comfortable with?"

"More than comfortable," Jamie replied. "Sounds wonderful to me. I like the idea of caring for something like that, keeping it happy and healthy."

"Excellent." Charlotte beamed, and Jamie blinked. For an instant, a different face had beamed at her from across the table; a beautiful face, with blue eyes and blonde hair, and a smile that tugged at Jamie's heart. But she must have imagined it, because a moment later, it was just Charlotte again.

She realized Charlotte had said something that she'd missed, and Jamie leaned forward.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that."

"Oh, apologies." Charlotte cleared her throat. "I asked, how did you start gardening?"

Oh.

Jamie hesitated, casting her eyes away from Charlotte's face, her own falling. Here it was. She could lie, and hope Charlotte never found out. Or she could tell the truth.

"Well, I got into it because-" Jamie stopped, and sighed, shoulders drooping. For the first time, she avoided Charlotte's gaze. "Honestly, the garden was one of the work rotations I was given in prison."

She risked a glance. Charlotte's smile had faded, replaced with a furrowed brow. She nodded to Jamie to continue.

"I had never so much as picked up a spade before," Jamie admitted. "But when they put me in that garden, it was like something…settled. It was hard work, and it kept my mind quiet. There were other women there I learned from, and when I got out, one of them helped me find my job in London. Haven't looked back since."

She let herself meet Charlotte's eyes, fully expecting to find disapproval and disappointment there. Instead, she found the older woman was looking at her thoughtfully, finger tapping her chin. Jamie shifted uncomfortably, a sliver of hope blooming in her chest.

"You know, Jamie," Charlotte said kindly. "I think of myself as a great judge of character."

Jamie said nothing, just nodded.

"After all," Charlotte sat back in her chair, waving her hand as if to indicate the entire manor. "I hired Hannah Grose. And that woman is a miracle, let me tell you."

Despite herself, a small smile quirked Jamie's lips. She had briefly met Mrs. Grose on her way in, and could tell right away that she would get on well with the housekeeper.

If she got the job, which didn't look likely in that moment.

"So you see," Charlotte continued. "I knew straight away when you walked in that I would hire you, and I'm not one to distrust my gut feelings."

"I understand, Lady Wingrave, I-" Jamie stopped. "Wait, I'm sorry?"

"Jamie," Charlotte said patiently. "Will you be able to care for the garden and grounds of Bly Manor?"

"Yes," Jamie said, hardly daring to breathe.

"Then that's all I need to know," Charlotte smiled at her. "Your reference from your former employer is impeccable, and the experience you outlined in your cover letter lends me the utmost confidence that you are the perfect candidate for the gardener position. When can you start?"

"I-" Jamie's brain stuttered. She swallowed. "When do you need me, ma'am?"

"Right away, if possible," Charlotte said, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. "Of course, you're still living in London, I take it? You can stay in one of the rooms here until you find your own place. Don't worry, I'll help you."

"Thank you," Jamie stood up as well, eyes wide, hardly daring to believe what had just happened. "Ma'am, I -"

"Your past is your past, Jamie," Charlotte said. "Let's live in the present, shall we?"

She held out her hand to shake again, and Jamie took it, beaming from ear to ear. But when she went to drop the hand, Charlotte didn't let go.

"Uh, Lady Win-"

The words died in Jamie's throat, replaced with a strangled gasp. Charlotte Wingrave had disappeared, and instead, a monster stood in front of her. A woman, in a white nightdress, dripping wet from head to toe, her long dark hair hanging like weeds over her shoulders. And her face, her face-

She had no face. No eyes. No nose. Only a wide, gaping mouth.

Jamie tore her hand away, gasping, scrambling back, hitting the wall, as the creature stepped forward, hands reaching, reaching, reaching-

"Let's get out of here," a voice whispered in her ear. Jamie turned, finding herself inches from the blonde woman she thought she'd seen earlier, a grin on her lips, blue eyes twinkling. The woman laced their fingers together, and tugged-

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

September 1987

"How the hell is it so hot?" Jamie whined, letting herself be pulled along the street. "I didn't think America would be this hot."

"You're a baby," Dani said. "A giant baby. I can't believe how much of a baby you're being."

"I miss the rain," Jamie said.

"You hate the rain."

"Do not. Rain is lovely. Waters the plants for me. Gives me a nice break."

Dani laughed, and Jamie grinned. That was the best sound in the world, right there. Dani Clayton's laugh. She could spend the rest of her life making Dani laugh.

With that thought, she tugged on Dani's hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"Jamie," Dani started, voice threatening annoyance. But she was smiling as Jamie pulled her in, kissing her soundly and sliding her fingers through blonde hair. Dani let out a happy sigh, other hand landing on Jamie's hip, pulling her closer-

"Fuckin' Dykes!"

The shout came from a passing car, and Jamie tore herself away from Dani to flip them off and yell some obscenity back. Dani shook her head, scowling.

"It's not worth it, Jamie," she said dully.

"So much for San Francisco being gay friendly," Jamie grumbled, as the two started walking again.

"There's always gonna be assholes," Dani told her. She took Jamie's hand again, slotting her fingers together like they'd been doing it all their lives, not just a couple of months. "But come on, we've faced down ghosts. Homophobes've got nothing."

"I'd still like to punch their lights out," Jamie said, glaring in the direction of the car. But she hadn't missed the quip about Bly Manor. Were they really at a point where they could joke about it?

She didn't get a chance to ask, though, because suddenly Dani was pulling her along again, their leisurely stroll turning into a brisk clip. Jamie let herself be led, content to watch Dani's hair flutter in the breeze, Dani's earrings glint in the sunlight, Dani's ass swaying in her jeans-

"Here we are!"

Without Jamie noticing, lovestruck as she was, they had gone through a parking lot and over sand dunes, and now the deep, white-capped blue of the Pacific Ocean stretched out in front of them, with no end in sight.

"Oh," Jamie breathed. "Oh, wow."

This time it was her leading the way, Dani trailing behind her, their hands still clasped together loosely. Jamie had never seen the Pacific before; had grown up with the Atlantic in driving distance, but hadn't had a real reason to spend much time there. She had always been anchored to the earth, never the sea, but the vast expanse before her took her breath away. It was all part of the natural world that Jamie loved, that she surrounded herself with and took care of. Just a different part.

"Poppins," Jamie said, unable to keep the awe from her voice. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," Dani said, sounding strangely far away, and Jamie knew if she turned her head, she would see Dani gazing at her adoringly, like a scene out of a bad romance movie. And once upon a time, she had. She had turned her head, had met Dani's gaze, had pulled her forwards and nearly kissed her, but stopped at the last minute, remembering the shout from the street. Had instead turned on her heel and raced down towards the water, dragging a laughing Dani behind her, and plunged in, not caring they were in their clothes, trying to wash away a memory of another plunge into cold water.

She knew she had done all of that, once. She could taste the salt on her tongue, feel the chill of the water on her skin. But here, now, in this moment, her eyes had landed on something in the water, and her entire body had frozen, standing at the edge of the surf. The sun seemed to suddenly hide behind a cloud, and an ill wind whipped Jamie's curls around her head.

"Dani," she said. "Dani, do you see that?"

There was no answer. Jamie turned, only to find Dani gone. In fact, the beach was empty now. Jamie was alone.

Well. Not completely alone.

Slowly, she looked back at the water. The creature stood, waist-deep, eyeless face turned in her direction. It did not seem to notice the waves, or the wind that now gusted, and it did not move. Jamie fought the urge to run, terrified that any movement would cause the thing to come after her. Why was it here? Why was it just standing there? Why wasn't it at the bottom of that lake where it had dragged Dani-

Wait.

Unbidden, Jamie took a step forward. The water soaked her shoes immediately, washing up and over her ankles. Another step, and it was at the cuffs of her jeans now, shoes sinking into the sand. Another, and another, and another, until she was standing up to her knees, entire body trembling, staring at the The Lady in the Lake with wide eyes.

"I'm supposed to be doing something," Jamie said to her. "I'm here for a reason."

The Lady in the Lake said nothing.

"It's there, on the tip of my tongue." Jamie let out a frustrated breath. "At the back of my brain. Just-"

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

October 2000

Her clothes were still wet when she arrived back at the hotel room. She stripped them almost as soon as the door closed, and stumbled into the shower, standing under the spray and staring at the wall. She only turned it off when the water turned cold, and she was pretty sure there were no more tears in her eyes. She towelled herself off, and dug through the little overnight bag she'd thrown together haphazardly as she rushed out the door an eternity earlier.

Rushed out the door after Dani, who had been long gone by then.

She hadn't packed any sleep shorts in her hurry, so she threw on some underwear, and an old shirt. The scent of it hit her immediately, and a fresh wave of tears started to fall. It was an old shirt of Dani's. One she'd worn a million times, even after the armpits were getting a bit threadbare.

Dani, who was lying at the bottom of a lake.

She went through the motions of getting ready for bed. She didn't have a toothbrush, so she just rinsed her mouth out with water, and splashed her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror - red-eyed, pale-faced - and paused, staring. Hoping against hope that another face would appear. Like had happened so often back home, in their little apartment, when Dani looked in a mirror, or into water, or into a pane of glass. Maybe Jamie's cry in the lake had worked, and maybe instead of that monster she would see-

Just let me have this, Jamie thought, not taking her eyes off her own reflection. It's you, it's me, it's us. Let me have this, Dani.

But nothing appeared, and Jamie shut the light of the bathroom off, and climbed into bed.

She didn't sleep. To sleep meant two things. First, it meant waking up again, into another day in a world where Dani wasn't. Where Jamie was just expected to keep living her life without her wife by her side. What would she even do? Go home? To their little apartment filled with memories? To the flower shop? Keep living the little life they had built together? Alone?

How could she be expected to do that?

Sleep also meant dreams, and Jamie was possibly more frightened of that than waking up. Dreaming could mean seeing Dani again, whether alive and happy, or dead, staring at her with lifeless eyes at the bottom of a lake. Neither option was appealing in the slightest, so Jamie lay awake, staring at the clock as it ticked towards midnight.

She deemed 5 o'clock in the morning as good a time as any to wake up. Or at least, get out of bed, as waking up implied she had slept at all. She supposed she would go to the airport, and get on a plane back to Vermont, decide what to do from there. Dani would want her to keep going.

It was as she mechanically got ready to leave that she found it. Dani's note, folded up with her passport, thrown in her bag along with anything else she thought she might need. It had fallen out when she changed, and for a moment, Jamie just gazed at it. Then, she knelt down, and opened it with trembling fingers, reading the last words Dani had left her.

Jamie,

The beast has come for me. Viola is calling, and I have to answer, or I don't know what could happen. I can't risk that anything would happen to you, my most important person. I love you. I'm so sorry.

Dani

If only she had woken up. If only she had stopped her. Convinced her that it was ok, that they would figure it out together. If only she had been able to figure out a solution before Viola took her. If only Owen had driven a little faster that night, thirteen years ago. If only she had run a little faster towards the lake. If only she had stayed the night when Dani asked. If only, if only, if -

Viola?

Jamie frowned as she scanned the note, the name standing out to her as strange, unknown. Viola? Who was Viola? Where had that come from?

Water dripped on the carpet in front of her. Jamie found herself looking at mud-covered feet, eyes tracing a soaking wet nightdress up until they reached the face - that terrible, terrible face.

She felt like she should scream. Scream and run from the room. Or better yet, attack the monster and hope she could get a few good licks in before it dragged her down too.

But she didn't.

Jamie stood slowly, hand still clutching the note, staring at the creature in front of her. The creature did nothing. Simply stood, as though waiting for Jamie to make the first move.

And so, Jamie did.

"Viola?"

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #dani clayton #jamie #jamie the gardener #bly manor #heather writes fanfiction #this doesn't happen often so like have fun guys

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atopearth · 3 years

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Piofiore: Fated Memories Part 2 - Dante Falzone Route

Hmm maybe Dante's route will answer why Lili seems to be so important to the Falzone and the church? Is she a descendant of the people who were tasked by "angels" to create this church and thus led to the creation of the Falzone or something? I wonder how Orlok is involved though~ Interesting to see Dante personally come to the church to protect and save Lili even though I doubt Orlok really meant any harm. Loll at Dante though, he seems like such a silly awkward boy that doesn't know how to properly communicate with others, he wants to keep her safe in the Falzone estate but doesn't even properly tell her that he intends to do that and just kinda assumes it by giving her a room and everything lol. Honestly though, I feel sorry for Lili, although she's being "protected", it's practically as if she's been kidnapped since she's not even allowed out of her room, and no one from the church or wherever is supposed to know that she's here, I would feel so uncomfortable if I was her. I guess at least she tried talking to Dante about it, too bad he refuses to say anything😪 I love how Leo is such a pure and earnest soul though, he is so kind and sweet to Lili, he tries so hard to help her too, it's nice that Leo is such an understanding and thoughtful bodyguard.

Lmaoo when Lili made a silk rope and tried to climb down the balcony to escape. To be fair, I would risk doing the same thing, Dante really isn't helping the situation by hiding everything from her. The CG of Dante catching her when she fell is so pretty though! I knew that Dante was hiding how the people were doing at the church because something happened to Sister Sofia but I didn't expect her to have died... Awww it was so cute how Leo thought Lili tried to run away because he was stuck to her 24/7 loll, he gives her so much space, there's no way he's overbearing! He's such a good boy🥺 especially now that she's not eating after finding out what happened to Sister Sofia, so he's trying to find a way to get her to eat. I love the suggestion of getting Nicola, Leo and Dante to eat with her to try and motivate her in a way. Too bad Dante didn't do it, but it's nice to see Nicola spending time naturally chatting with her and eating with her, I think eating together with someone really helps to make the food easier to take in. Omgg, Leo is such a cinnamon roll, he even took time out to buy her books and flowers since he felt bad that he didn't have permission to eat or do anything with her🥺 Ohh, Dante told him to get the gifts for her! Hahaha, omg, he's so cute🤣 It's actually kinda funny but so sweet how attentive and efficient Dante is. She just told him that she's a bit lonely since Leo has been busy and he tells Leo to get her a kitten the next day lmao. I'm actually impressed at how good he is at thinking of gifts to help her be more comfortable here. Dante's gentle expression patting the kitten was so comforting, I loved it. It was also nice to see Lili finally properly cry over Sister Sofia's death with Dante consoling her by rubbing her back🥺 Oh okay, I thought Sister Sofia dying was weird, but I didn't think that Dante would lie about such a thing to Lili especially knowing how important she was to her, I'm not surprised Lili felt betrayed. I'm glad Dante sincerely apologised for lying to her though.

HAHAHA, I loved how when Nicola was flirting with Lili and seemed to be coming on to her, she just shoved him away and ran off lolll! Although I'm happy that Leo is so considerate of Lili to bring her to the church whenever they have a chance to sneak out, it's obvious that something is going to happen now that she's out hahaha. As expected, the Lao-Shu are on the move for her, but I didn't expect Yang himself to be here for her. Omgggg I never expected to hear about Gau Lung Seng Caai aka Kowloon Walled City in here, I guess it would make sense for Yang to come from there since it was basically fully controlled by triads back in the day~ It's kinda worrying that Orlok can invade the Falzone estate and get to Dante so quickly loll, on the other hand, Orlok is a disciple of the church? Ugh, I wanna punch Nicola, like seriously, it's come to the point where they're running away to hide somewhere others don't know about and Nicola STILL insists that no, Lili shouldn't know anything because it's a secret and who knows if it's true since it's so long ago blah blah. Honestly dude, it's not important whether you think it's true or not, the truth is that people like Yang are going after her because they find value in her being the Key Maiden that can unlock the seal to the sacred relic (kinda the symbolic thing that gives the Church power in Burlone since back in the day). They obviously know that her life is in danger because of this, hid it from her all this time "because it's for her own good" when really, they're just treating her like a literal key they can drag from place to place to "protect" disregarding the fact that she's a human and has her own emotions and thoughts. And what? Nicola wants to blame her for sneaking out? Excuse you, yeah she's wrong, but don't make it sound like you guys are right for basically locking her up in the manor without telling her anything important. Like yeah, the Falzone are the guardians protecting the sacred relic and her so of course they know their mission and stuff but there's a huge difference when you know something and when you don't, being kept in the dark just makes everything worse. Honestly they could have just made up some lie to her instead.

Oh how interesting, they even have Disciples like Orlok to monitor the Falzone to see if they're properly fulfilling their roles as guardians?? That kinda seems...silly? Like, why don't you share protection of the relic instead? Also, how do you even know if they're properly doing their job or not? Like, you need the pure Falzone blood (and that's why they're so adamant on the importance of pure Falzone blood) to open the seal and get to the relic but you don't need it to protect it? But I guess there's more to this~ Anyway, Dante blushing on the sofa when he woke up with Lili nearly tripping down on him was cute haha. I'm not sure if I missed it though, wasn't Carlo the cat supposed to stay at the manor? Lmao at Dante being bad at household chores, at least he tried I guess. Yeah, Nicola likes to cause trouble huh? Now Lili thinks Dante is only nice to her because she's the Key Maiden, which is a legitimate worry, but it is pretty slack of her to avoid Dante when he's earnestly trying to approach her and understand what's wrong lol, I feel bad for him.

Like, I don't want to call the Falzone family weak since I feel like depending on the route and stuff, the story "makes" them weak when they want to so that the story can go whichever way they want but c'mon, laced wine that Nicola and Dante didn't notice? I'm surprised they fell for something like that. Nicola is definitely in on it, and Dante is careless lol. But then again, I feel like all our Mafia bosses here make questionable decisions too so I'll just roll with it lol. It was so heartwarming to see Dante so relieved to reunite with Lili and confirm that she's safe. Others can act as the Key Maiden??? So what's the point of Lili then...? Just more convenient? Anyway, the Falzone sure fell in reputation faaast from a newspaper report about corruption with police blah blah, like um, you knew they were Mafia so obviously not everything is going to be all colourful with rainbows, and it's so hilarious how the townspeople can just treat people like Giulia like shit now, excuse me, but I'm sure if Dante and them wanted to, they still have the numbers to oppress you guys, he's just too nice spoiling you all and you tread on him like that after he treated them so well over the years. Ungrateful people. Anyway, their confession was cute, but it sure took a long time for Lili to properly assess her feelings and be honest about her thoughts, but I think Dante being frank about his thoughts was the highlight. A bit like an explosion of all his feelings, his inadequacies, his worries and everything, it's nice that Lili was beside him, because I'm sure Nicola betraying him always hits him hard. On a whole though, sometimes I find it kinda funny how Yang is the only one Mafia-like in that he's actively trying to gain more power and territory, whereas Gil and Dante are pretty chill with the situation (as long as the power balance stays I guess) aside from the troublesome Yang guys lol.

Hahahaha okay, I thought I was vulgar for thinking that Dante and Lili needed to have sex for her "mark" as the Key Maiden to become prominent as needed for the seal (according to Emilio) but to think it really was that!! Okay, funnily, I didn't expect the sacred relic to actually be Jesus' dead body which apparently refutes all the church's teachings since Jesus would be seen as a "normal human" that died, which for me feels kinda silly? I'm not sure what the general consensus is and I never realised that Jesus' body was "stolen" or just cannot be found, but I guess I never really thought that when Jesus died, his body disappeared? I always assumed that Jesus "came down to Earth" and died for our sins in a mortal body, so obviously if he dies, the body will remain but the soul and the spirit or I guess the Holy Spirit leaves and kinda forms the Holy Trinity again? Anyway, I don't know my Bible stuff anymore so I'm not sure anymore, but for me, I feel like this "revelation" is pretty weak and honestly shouldn't be able to undermine the Church but that's just my opinion lol. Anyway, I love how after all that, Yang is just like I'm gonna kill you guys because he hates the Church anyway and he's lost most of his men so he's got nothing much to lose anymore so he might as well take them down with him, I feel like Yang is so random sometimes but I'll roll with it since it's much more amusing to watch him haha. Honestly, I feel so sad for Orlok dying to protect Lili when I feel like she never really saw him for how kind he was, and now he's being relentlessly stabbed by the crazed Yang that's probably on drugs. On the other hand, this might sound crazy but I like this ruthless Yang and I feel like I'm finally seeing a bit of the terror and bloodshed I expected from a game about the Mafia hahaha. Anyway, I'm glad Lili shot a bullet into the air distracting Yang and allowing Dante the opportunity to kill him, I think Yang would be satisfied with that since it seemed like he was just looking for an entertaining way to die. I'm glad that Nicola properly apologised to Lili for his crappy attitude towards her lol.

Well, the best ending was definitely more plot than romance, and I'm honestly not a fan of the plot here haha, it was more boring than I thought. Anyway, that made the romance part have less time so yeah..but seeing Dante propose to Lili was still cute haha. I actually prefer the good ending much more, it felt like it was straightforward, simple and sweet without the unnecessary plot haha, I also liked how she decided to stay at the church and didn't feel like she was ready to leave and stay in his manor with him yet, which is very understandable imo and I liked how they are spending more time properly bonding instead of living in those moments so focused on protecting her and everything. It felt much more natural. Honestly, Nicola dying by Dante's hands to protect Lili in the tragic ending was expected, and it was sad since Nicola always wanted the best for Dante and he's right that the Mafia will slowly become more and more redundant as time goes by, but I think Dante accidentally killing Gil and Lili going into a coma to protect Dante was really unnecessary. It just basically took away the impact and focus on Nicola's death that should torment Dante forever and tried to make it as "tragic" as possible but it just made me not care about it lol. Especially since Lili is in a coma, Dante will focus on that instead of the fact that he killed his best friend and his "brother" with his own hands and I think that's much more tragic than what happened to Gil and Lili.

Overall, I like Dante’s character more than Nicola, but I can't really say I cared for the story here either haha. It's nice that there were answers to the questions about the plot such as the Key Maiden etc, but the reveal and everything was more boring than I thought haha, so sadly that was disappointing. Otherwise, I think Dante and Lili were pretty cute. But I think I enjoyed the beginning of their relationship more, mainly because it was nice to see how they both worked hard to try and spend time with each other, get to know what the other likes to support them and other things like that, it felt really sweet. But once they moved into the hotel together, I don't feel like much happened and they just kinda got together because that's how it is? I don't know, guess the later parts didn't live up to the vanilla of the beginning haha, CGs were super pretty as usual though~ I do like Dante as a character though, like he can get a bit frustrating at times for being the moralistic Mafia boss but it suits him, and I guess it's nice to have someone like him who is seemingly cold but probably feels the most "feelings" out of the others haha. I think it's pretty cute how Dante has known about her since he was a child and always thought about her even though it was unnecessary lol. Anyway, tbh, I kinda prefer crazy Roberto than the actual plot lolll.

#piofiore fated memories #piofiore no banshou

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littledraga · 4 years

Text

Whumptober2020 SPG Power Outage

Rabbit’s core had been unstable for years. It was practically a part of their personality now. Just something the manor expected. Glitches and the occasional meltdown. Nothing the Walter Workers couldn’t deal with.

But it was becoming too frequent and getting worse. The blue matter effects were starting to leak into the manor. Rabbit’s dreams coming to life, or places where things got thin, portals trying to form. It wasn’t safe to take them to shows.

It had been a madhouse trying to find the original blueprints. How they had managed to get so lost was beyond Six. They should have all been kept together.

When someone did find them, it was a long conversation. The Spine sat with Rabbit while she tried to explain why she’d never come forward before. That pappy had been too happy to want to disrupt anything, and she was afraid no one would believe her.

She would be out for a few days. Long enough that The Spine had time to sneak in a few new pieces into her wardrobe. It wasn’t much, but something he hoped would make her happy. Overall it was a simple black dress with puffed up sleeves, a ruffled black Walter Worker dress. He found a corset to slip over it to make it look a little flashier. It was a start, at least.

When she finally powered back on, she woke up surrounded by family. Sitting up, she smiled brightly. She’d undergone quite the change inside and out. Her core glowed a bright red now instead of blue. “H-hey th-there! Did-didn’t expect such a cr-crowd when I woke up!”

The Spine laughed and leaned over to hug her tightly. “It’s good to see you awake. I was worried about my sister.”

She beamed brightly at hearing him call her his sister and clung to him tightly. He didn’t mention the oil soaking into his suit. It was, understandably, a bit overwhelming for her to suddenly be a completed bot.

“Come on. You’ve been stuck in that suit long enough, come on.” Helping his sister off the bench, he tugged her back upstairs.

“I don-don’t know what you’re expecting, Spineo,” she chided as she followed him up. She may have gotten an overhaul, but that didn’t change what was in her room.

He just grinned widely and sat down on the edge of her bed to let her look. “I’m sure there’s something in there that we can work with.”

When she found the dress, she squealed in delight. “Spine, it’s amazing!” Hugging the fabric to her chest, she spun around in a tight circle, dancing on her feet.

Suddenly she was pushing her brother out of the room. “Out out! You can’t be in here while I change! It ain’t appropriate.”

Laughing, Spine nearly fell on his face as he stumbled out of Rabbit’s room. “I’m going, I’m going!” While he waited, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

After a while, when she hadn’t opened the door, he tilted his head. “You alright in there, Rabbit? Not too fiddly?” He asked and laughed when he heard something hit the door.

“I wear six belts! I can figure out a dress!”

Another long pause and she cracked open the door. “Okay, maybe I need some help,” she muttered.

Once she had managed to get zipped in and added a few belts, for flair and tradition, she said, Rabbit spun in front of the mirror, giggling like a loon.

Back on the edge of the bed, Spine watched his sister with a small smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her so happy. Not since before Peter I passed away at least. Excited, wild, smiling, content, sure. But not truly happy.

After a while, she stopped and laid a hand on her head, gently running over the shiny copper. She wasn’t sure she liked that.

Watching her, Spine lifted his hat a little to show off his hair. “Want to wear my wig?” He offered. While he would have let her, they both laughed when she threw a pillow at him. Maybe not that one. “What about your rabbit ears? Those might work for now.”

With a hum, she looked back in the mirror. Gears whirred slowly, and her head opened up as copper antennas came up in the shape of large rabbit ears. She wiggled them around a little, turning them this way and that before she settled on how she liked them. Yeah, those were okay! Giggling, she spun around and showed off her new look.

“They look perfect, Rabbit,” praised The Spine.

Rabbit looked like she could have vibrated through the floor with excitement. Everything was just perfect! “I-I-I gotsta show-show everyone!” Hurrying out the door, she ran through the manor to show off her new, well everything!

The Spine had to stop her to get water more than once as she got excited, and bubbled on about how much she loved the dress. No one mentioned it looked like a dyed uniform. The Spine had done his best.

While she ran around, he could hardly keep up with her and opted to just be around, to make sure she was alright. Sure there weren’t really any risks for her in the manor, but that was still his sister, and he wanted to make sure she was alright after such a big change. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her so energetic and full of life before. It was good to see her so happy now.

“It’s late, Rabbit. We need to shut down for a little while.”

“ B-b-b-b-but, Spine! It’s not that late! I wanna see what kind of dresses I can get! Petes promised I could buy some new clothes!”

Gently tugging her up to the room, his shoulders slumped. “Tomorrow. We can spend all day looking at dresses, okay? We'll find someone to take us to the mall or something.”

That worked! Mostly. She ran into her room, but he wasn’t sure she ever went into stasis.

Admittedly, he was excited too. This had been a long time coming, and he was glad Rabbit could have it at last. Even if he didn't think he could ever keep up with her again. Laying in his own bed, he sighed a happy stream of steam and powered down for a while.

It was easier in the morning. The Spine nearly had to pull her out of bed.

She was tired and sluggish. When she wouldn’t respond to knocking, The Spine marched in and found her tangled in her blanket.

"Must have used up all your energy bouncing around yesterday," teased Spine as he finally dragged his sister out of bed. He laughed when she swatted at him, clanging softly against his metal arm.

After making sure water boilers were topped up, he was worried she hadn't perked back up yet. She must have really been excited last night. Though he still didn’t think she should have been this worn down. They really didn’t need to sleep after all.

"Come on, we can look online for dresses," he offered, trying to get some life in her.

She perked up a little, at least as she followed him off to check the computer. Before they even sat down, she was asking about what kind of dresses there were. He wondered if it would have been better to have Upgrade or Malfunction there. He didn’t know all that much about dresses after all.

There wasn't a single dress she didn't gush over and plan on begging Petes for. From sundresses to ball gowns and even a few nightgowns she said were too pretty for bed.

When he suggested shoes, he thought she had ruined her voice box with that squeal. Or at least ruined his hearing! Who knew there were that many styles of shoes! The Spine wondered if he should update his own wardrobe. Of course, Rabbit came first.

That was the energy he was expecting! Not that he knew how the manor was going to fund this wardrobe.

He was pretty good with a needle and thread. There had to be something he could manage. Something he could look into later. For now, he was fine just sitting with Rabbit and planning outfits she would probably never get to wear.

They talked a while about what colours went with copper, and he bored her with information on wigs. There was a black and pink one that she had fallen in love with. Without thinking, he bought that.

After a while, she got quiet and leaned against his shoulder. She really must have been up too long. He supposed too much excitement could do it, even for robots that ran on blue matter, or red matter rather.

Smiling softly, he wrapped an arm around her and closed out of the tabs. That was alright. They'd been at it a good portion of the day, a break was good.

Once the computer was off, he gave her a gentle shake. "Come on, you. Nap somewhere else," he teased.

Nothing.

That was concerning. Rabbit shouldn't have been able to get that tired. Maybe she was pranking Spine again?

"Come on, I'll drop you," he warned, moving her he tried to trick her into getting up. Seeing her lulled back, he gasped.

"RABBIT!"

Her core had gone dark in her chest.

He called for help, screaming over the wifi as he lifted her up from the chair. Cradling her safely against his chest, he ran full speed through the manor and down to the labs.

The Walter Workers and Six were scrambling, trying to prepare as he barged into the room. Rushing him in the Walter Workers had to pry Rabbit from his arms to get her on the table.

The Spine was too heavy to force out of the lab. As much as they reasoned they would work better without him there, he refused to leave. That was Rabbit, his sister, on the table. He wouldn't leave her side.

While they worked, he paced the room and hovered over their shoulders. He sobbed and cried, quietly begging Rabbit to be alright. She couldn't die now, not now most of all.

Six was relentless as he worked. When restarting her failed, he opened up Rabbit's chest and checked every wire. Groundings, ports, gears, and screws, nothing was wrong, and nothing was working.

He poured hours into trying to bring Rabbit back online. Even the smallest detail wasn’t left unnoticed. The strangest idea was given a try, no matter how far fetched. He had even tried promising her a truckload of chocolate moon pies. He had nearly replaced all of her, hoping something would work.

"The red matter stabilized her, but it wasn't strong enough to keep her powered." Six put a hand over his mask and quietly wept.

The Walter Workers put their tools down and looked down at their feet. There was nothing left for them to try.

“Then make her core blue again!" Demanded Spine, stepping over to loom over Petes.

Six looked pained up at the titanium robot. Tears streamed down from under his mask, soaking into his lab coat. “I can’t.”

#Whumptober2020 #no.27 #power outage #spg #fic #tw: character death #mention of Pants!Rabbit

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bibislut · 4 years

Text

Bitter-Sweet Days (Chapter 1)

Find it on Ao3 here

Chapter 1

15th May 2001

A short rap on the door signalled Draco Malfoy's entrance. The short, portly man spun round in his chair with a tight smile, gesturing to the seat before him.

"Sit down, Mr Malfoy."

Draco took his seat quietly. "You’ve studied the blood samples?"

The healer stared pointedly at the desk before him, pushing his glasses up his nose and clearing his throat. "There is no delicate way to put this Mr Malfoy," He looked up to meet Draco's eyes. "We have detected a kind of rare disease in your blood. There is no current cure for such a disease, nor has modern research found a cause. It just, simply, is."

Draco's vision began to swirl at an alarming pace, and his breath was knocked from him. When he found it again, it came in short, rapid bursts. His therapist said this was hyperventilating, and that he should try and take longer, slower breaths. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. He did his best to do so, and swallowed thickly.

"So what happens now?" His voice came out barely above a whisper.

"Now, you spend your remaining time however you wish." The healer smiled sadly at him. "We estimate two months, Mr Malfoy."

"Two….Two months…" Draco repeated quietly, mostly to himself. So this was it, this was to be his final time in this world. It was almost funny how he had spent so many years fearing he would die the next day, and now he had just started to manage to enjoy life, it was all to end.

---------

"What can I get for you?" The barmaid smiled at Draco, and he faintly wondered if she's just very good at customer service, or actually doesn’t recognise him.

"Another bottle of the '96 Elf Merlot; you can charge it to my vault." Draco slid across a piece of parchment with his vault details on it. After finishing his first bottle of the ridiculously overpriced drink, he had decided that he deserved another. His pale cheeks held a slight pink tint, and his ears were tipped with red, though he supposed it would take another glass for the slurring to become noticeable, and another glass after that before his hiccups would start.

He could feel a slight thrum in his veins and had to fight the urge to hum a song to himself. Just lovely, he thought. Perhaps he should spend the next two months drunk.

The sound of raucous laughter drew Draco's attention to the furthest corner of the bar, where a group of young people sat squished into a booth, cheering and toasting. Squinting his eyes, Draco could make out the all-too-familiar mop of curls belonging to Harry Potter. And yes, next to him sat Weasley and Granger, and on his other side sat the younger Weasley and Luna. Dragging his eyes back to Potter, Draco felt his stomach flip in a way that certainly wasn't the alcohol. Potter had filled out since school, and his dark hair had grown out, slipping over his eyes every time he laughed too hard. He now sported a trimmed beard, and as much as Draco wanted to think he looked like a vagabond, he had to admit that he actually looked rather handsome, and far too sexy for his liking. His brown skin held a pleasant flush, and as Draco watched, he spilled a drop of his beer on his tatty blue t-shirt, earning him a playful punch from the younger Weasley. They exchanged smiles and Draco felt his heart tighten.

He didn't even have a good reason, he knew full well that the two had broken up not long after the war, and now Luna was dating Weasley. Their monthly catch-ups were one of his favourite things, and a very useful source of information on the Golden Trio. Draco was very fond of Luna, and when she had spoken for him at his trial to reveal how he had snuck her food and checked on her whilst she was being held captive at the Manor, their friendship had only bloomed further. She had often asked him along to evenings with them all, but he had assured her that he wanted nothing of the inevitable distrust and awkward interactions that would ensue.

As he watched, Potter turned and met his eye, a small look of shock crossing his face. Luna turned too, and waved eagerly at him. He nodded back with a small smile and turned away, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself. He took a large gulp of his wine, memories of the past few years flooding his mind.

Harry Potter with dark hollows under his eyes, standing to speak for Draco at his trial. The awkward thank you, Potter, afterwards, as the two boys took it in turns to briefly glance at each other before looking away.

Harry Potter asleep on the sofa in the common room of the eighth year dorms when Draco came down to try and walk off another nightmare. The way the dying embers cast shadows across his cheekbones.

Thank you, Potter. For coming back for me that day.

Draco had tucked the note under Potter's hand before laying a blanket over him and heading back up to his room. Potter had smiled at him that morning at breakfast, and Draco had nodded back, hurrying out of the Great Hall with butterflies in his stomach.

Harry Potter with a scowl on his face when they got a new assignment. Harry Potter with a distinctive glow on his face when he flew in the eighth year Quidditch games. Harry Potter in tatty pyjamas rubbing his eyes as he came out of the bathroom. Harry Potter shooting Draco a thumbs up when he got his NEWT results in the Great Hall, and Draco just rolling his eyes in return, struggling to hide his smile.

Harry Potter asking what Draco was doing at the ministry a few months later. "I'm training to be a curse-breaker, Potter. Let me guess, you're already Head Auror?" he had drawled in return. To his surprise, he had laughed, actually laughed.

"Give it another month, Malfoy."

Harry Potter nodding to Draco whenever they passed each other in the hallways of the Ministry. These days, those small acknowledgements rarely happened. Draco supposed they were both just too busy.

Draco poured himself another glass of wine and almost spilled it when an all too familiar voice sounded behind him. "Its been a while, Malfoy."

He turned round with a perfectly schooled air of haughtiness. "You almost sound like you've missed me, Potter."

"I wouldn't go quite as far as that." Potter had the audacity to wink at him.

"Merlin's tits, Potter. You're making me miss that pretty little scowl of yours." Their interaction may have lacked the same vehemence and distrust that it often did back at Hogwarts, but the two men were certainly still as passionate about each other (though Draco supposed the exact kind of passion had changed too).

"What would you prefer? Want me to push you up against a wall with my fists in your robes like we're back at Hogwarts?" Draco choked on his drink, an all too enticing image dancing in his mind.

"Careful, Potter. Someone might overhear and think you're flirting with me." Draco's pulse was echoing in his ears and it suddenly felt too hot. What in Merlin's name was going on? Maybe he was passed out drunk at home and simply dreaming.

"So what if I am, Malfoy?" He was suddenly a lot closer, too close. He looked into the bright green of his eyes and wondered if he could actually get lost in them. Draco hissed and stood up abruptly, using his few inches to look down at Potter, pushing him away.

"Fuck off, Potter. I'm not in the mood for whatever your half-wit brain considers a joke." Draco's brain could barely keep up with the words that were spilling from his mouth. He rushed out the pub and into the cooler spring air. He needed space, he needed to be the fuck away from whatever had just happened. Draco could barely summon the self-control to not apparate drunk, and instead clumsily jogged to the next pub, and into their floo, giving his address.

His breathing came fast and the room spun around him. He kicked off his shoes as he fell onto his bed. He closed his eyes, counting his breaths until sleep fell over him.

-----

Draco woke with a hangover that was nowhere near as bad as he expected. With a groan he lifted himself out of bed, stretching with a yawn as memories of the night before came back to him. Potter's green eyes, Potter's freckles, Potter's flirting.

"What if I am, Malfoy?"

What the actual fuck? Firstly, this was Potter. He hated him, or at least only politely tolerated him, right? And even if he didn't despise him, since when was Potter gay?! Or bisexual, or just interested in men. Or interested in him?!

All these thoughts swirled in his head, and Draco had to steady himself against the wall. Maybe he was more hungover than he realized.

A shower - that's what he needed. And maybe a coffee too. Yes, he just needed to wake up a bit.

----

"Latte with an extra shot, please." Draco smiled politely at the barista as he offered her a muggle note with a 50 on it. She looked at him quizically and took it.

"Give me your wallet, Malfoy."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco spun around to meet Potter's eyes. He just smirked and took it from his hands, looking through it.

"Next time, when you're ordering just the one drink, try paying with one of these." Draco looked down to where Potter was waving a note with a 5 on it. Draco sniffed and grabbed the money and wallet back from him.

"Yes alright Potter, no need to be condescending."

"As if you've never been a condescending prick before," he chuckled and clasped Draco on the shoulder. "Come on, pick up your drink. Let's have a walk."

Draco hadn't realised he'd been staring until then, and he hurriedly picked up his drink and followed Potter out of the coffee shop.

He cleared his throat awkwardly as he tried to settle his nerves. "Sorry about last night, Potter." His voice came out much more timid than he intended and he frowned slightly.

Potter whipped his head round to look at him, coughing to try and hide his shock. "It's alright, I didn't mean to come on too strong." This was definitely one of the weirdest conversations Draco had ever had.

"I'm surprised to hear you admit that you were coming on at all," Draco taunted.

"Oh yes, the saviour of the wizarding world likes cock, isn't that a shocker." Potter’s voice was surprisingly tight.

"I mean slightly, Potter, yes." Draco paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm more surprised that you like death eater cock, though."

"Death eater? Don't give me that bollocks Malfoy," Potter huffed. "You know full well that I don't blame you for the war."

At that, Draco looked at Potter with an expression somewhat like a gaping fish. "You don't?"

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy. I thought I was supposed to be the dim one! I spoke at your trial, remember?"

"I just… thought that was a courtesy. For my mother." Draco's voice was incredibly small. Harry came to a stop.

"Pity party is over Malfoy, I don't blame you, alright? You were a kid, you were stupid, you were scared. We all were."

Draco turned away, trying his best to blink away his tears. He turned back to punch Potter in the shoulder. "So much for Saint Potter, did you just call me stupid?"

"And dim." He laughed and ducked out of the way of another smack. Malfoy couldn't help but laugh too. They continued walking.

"So, Harry Potter is gay…"

"Well if you want to get technical, I'm queer." They were both quiet for a moment.

"So were you really hitting on me?" Draco asked.

"Well...yeah." Potter ran a hand through his curls nervously, only helping to add to the chaos on top of his head.

"Oh dear, Potter. That won't do.I won’t have any kind of half-arsedness," Draco said playfully.

"So that's a yes?" Draco couldn't help but smirk at the way Potter perked up.

"You haven't even asked me a question yet."

"Oh, um, would you like to go on a date, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled devilishly. "Hmmm… I suppose so." The teasing didn't work however, as Potter beamed from ear to ear.

"Great! I'll owl you the details later!" He waved eagerly and set off at a jog.

"You don't even have my address!" Draco called, but he was already out of earshot. He couldn't help the smile that creeped over his face. He was going on a date. With Harry Potter. Merlin’s tits.

Harry Potter could be his boyfriend. How long had he wanted this? Nine years? He could go on dates with Harry Potter. He would know how he took his tea, how his day at work was. He felt giddy.

A sudden darkness washed over him, an intense weight in his stomach. What was he thinking? He was going to die. There would be no future for him. No anniversaries, no Christmases. No moving in together, no family. No arguments and make-ups. No growing old.

Tears fell down his cheeks. He had no future. He should owl Potter and tell him that he couldn't see him. Didn't want to see him. All it would do is cause more suffering in the long term.

But there was the voice in the back of his mind. You only have two months. You should spend it how you want, the rest be damned. He couldn't do that though, could he? That was selfish of him. Who cares about selfish? These are your last days.

#Draco Malfoy #drarry #harry x draco #Harry Potter #bitter-sweet days

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shadowthrone-ammanas · 4 years

Text

The Queen’s Jealousy

So, Moonjumper's kinda a thing. There's a fanon thing going around where he's The Prince's body based off how he's dressed making it seem like the devs possibly intended for him to be The Prince before they decided to remove him from the game. So that's where this idea came from.

Also, I call The Prince 'Lukas' in this fic because I've read a couple fics where he was called 'Lucas' due to that being the name of Snatcher's voice actor. I like the name so I decided to just go with it and spell it with a 'k' instead because I prefer that spelling.

Vanessa was upset again; Lukas was spending too much time focusing on his studies. He was maybe spending more time on them than was strictly necessary because he didn’t want to spend time with her but it was important. It was his passion and since he was going to marry her one day, making him King someday as well, he needed to know this stuff.

That didn’t mean he didn’t love her, of course not. She was the… love of his life. He would make it up to her… one day. For now, he’d just get her another bouquet of flowers and pray it placated her for at least as long as his break from his lessons lasted.

Which was what brought him to the marketplace. A pretty young redhead manned the flower stall, possibly the daughter of the man who normally ran it? It didn’t matter though, she knew what and where all the flowers he requested for his bouquet were and bundled them up just as prettily.

“Thanks,” he said as he handed over payment, adding a whole extra gold as a tip because he was in a good mood. He took a breath to follow it up with a ‘have a nice day’ but paused at the sound of a familiar gasp of dismay. He glanced over in that direction but the crowds had already closed in, concealing whoever it had been. If it was anyone at all. His ears were probably just playing tricks on him, there were lots of sounds all around him after all.

Lukas turned back to the flower stall attendant. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” she replied as he started to move away.

He dilly-dallied around the marketplace for a while a longer. He didn’t want to go see Vanessa yet; he was stalling. It had been a while since he’d last had a chance to come here so he was going to enjoy it for a bit longer before returning to his love. But because he’d already bought the flowers – in hindsight he should’ve brought them right before leaving but he hadn’t been planning on staying long – he couldn’t justify staying for much more than an hour. Thus, he quickly found himself knocking on the door to Vanessa’s manor.

The door servant quickly answered it. He was tense, head bowed, and silent which suggested Vanessa was full on angry now, ready to snap at any servant who dared to even mildly inconvenience her. But… she couldn’t be mad at Lukas, right? He hadn’t seen her since that morning when she’d cried about how little time he was spending with her, saying he didn’t love her anymore so what was the point of even existing anymore? She’d then locked herself up in her room, freeing him to head out to get something to placate her with. So it would probably be fine to approach and apologize and assure her that he did love her and always would. Regardless he was already here and seen by one of her servants meaning he had no choice in the matter.

She was in her room, door wide open, sitting on the cushioned seat at the foot of the bed. Back to the door, the rigidity of her posture made it clear that whatever had angered her was still making her furious. Not a good time to approach. He’d retreat, come back later when it was…

“Luke.” He voice was filled with ice. Too late, she’d heard him come in… somehow.

“Uh… hey Vanessa.” The quiver in his voice made him angry with himself. He sounded like a sniveling coward.

“How could you?”

“How could I what?” He hadn’t done anything? Why was she mad him now? He’d brought her flowers for fuck’s sake.

“You know what you did.”

“Actually no, I…”

“Guards,” she interrupted. “Lock him up.”

Armor clanking, the guards standing watch outside of her room stepped in. Before Lukas could process what was happening, they grabbed him under the arms and started dragging him away.

“Vanessa, wait! You can’t do this! Let me go!”

But his pleas fell on deaf ears, she didn’t even turn to look at him as her guards dragged him away, too strong to be bothered by his struggles.

They brought him to the cellar, to the back. One guard pushed him up against the wall while the other two put shackles around his upper arms. They then stepped back.

Lukas let out an undignified yelp of pain as suddenly all his weight was put on his shoulders; his feet were a good foot or so off the ground. “Wait,” he said as the guards started leaving. “You can’t do this to me! How long are you going to leave me here?”

They didn’t answer and soon he was alone in the dark.

He grunted as he lifted his feet and pressed them flat against the stone wall behind him. If he could just get some weight off the chains holding him up… but it was no use. He gave up after a few minutes.

Vanessa was just having an especially bad fit for some reason. She’d release him soon and would then apologize profusely and then tell him much she loved him and was nothing without him and was trash for hurting him, just like she’d done on the rare occasions she’d slapped or actually hit him with a thrown object. And then she’d go back to being sweet and loving… until he did something else to upset her.

Hours passed. An unnatural cold settled in, chilling him to the bone. The pain in his shoulders built steadily. Every move he made, to shift or in a desperate attempt to find a way to alleviate it, made it worse. It was the most excruciating pain he’d ever felt.

Never again! He was done with Vanessa. This was going too far. He was going to end it as soon as she freed him. … Hopefully that would be soon.

It wasn’t. Time dragged as sleep alluded him. Hunger and thirst set in as the pain in his shoulders peaked, becoming a constant misery that could almost be ignored. At some point, he wet himself, adding shame to his suffering. His hate grew too, rivaled only by exhaustion. The cold seemed to grow as well, unnaturally, though it was possible it just felt like that too him because he body was weakening.

At some point he passed out, hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion finally over overpowering the pain and suffering enough to allow him sweet blissful unawareness. He was awoken by the scuffing of feet on the stairs.

He looked up but it was too dark to see and they weren’t here yet. But a person meant salvation… right? His torment was over? … Right? He’d do anything for that to be the case.

Finally, a small light came around the corner. A candle flame, held I someone’s hands. Even that was enough to make it feel like daggers in his light deprived eyes.

“I did it, Luke.” It was Vanessa. There was an odd quality to her voice that hadn’t been there before. It sent chills down Lukas’ spine even as her mere presence filled him with rage. “There’s no one to bother us anymore my love. They’re all frozen solid, especially that wretched flower girl and your whore of a teacher. They can’t tempt you away from me anymore, no one can.”

Lukas was finally able to open his eyes and look at her. She looked… different; her clothing tattered, her hair a mess, an odd discomforting glint in her eyes – were they glowing slightly red? Surely not, that was just a trick of the candle light… right? There was something else though that Lukas couldn’t place and made him feel almost nauseous to look upon.

“What did you do?” he asked through gritted teeth, his voice rough and painful from lack of use a and a dry throat. She’d mentioned his teacher and the flower girl – why her though? he’d spoken to her once – meaning she’d killed them? Really? She wasn’t that fucked up, was she?

“While you’ve been away with your studies, I’ve been studying some stuff on my own. Magic to be precise. I froze everything and everyone. I shattered your teacher and the girl you cheated on me with. So, it’s just us now. It’s just you and me now, forever. Aren’t you happy?”

“No! What the hell you, crazy bitch?” It couldn’t be true, could it? She couldn’t have killed everyone… right?

The disconcerting smile on Vanessa’s face vanished, replaced with an even worse frown. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, you’re being a crazy bitch!” Lukas would’ve slapped her if he could. True or not, the words she was saying were awful.

Her frown deepened. “Fine. I was going to let you down but since you clearly have not learned your lesson, I’ll leave you down here for a couple more days.” She snapped around and started walking away.

Lukas took in a breath to tell her to stop and come back to let him down, beg for mercy essentially. He bit back on it though. Anyone other than her and he would’ve without hesitation but he’d rather die than beg for mercy from her.

Despite that resolve and the anger at her words, his heart sunk at the distant sound of the cellar door thumping shut a short while later. He was once more alone with his suffering and the darkness.

“Friend…” a hollow voice pulled him out a doze that wasn’t quite sleep.

He lifted his head to see nothing but the usual darkness. Was he imagining things now too? Just what he needed to add to his misery, insanity.

“Good, you are awake…”

Lukas jerked back up. “Hello? Can you help me?” Whoever or whatever it was it clearly wasn’t Vanessa so… it had to be here to help him, right?

“I can help you and I will if you agree to help me…” Placing the location of the speaker was impossible. It sounded almost like it might just be in Lukas’ mind.

“W-what do you want me to do?” Under different circumstance Lukas wouldn’t have trusted such a voice in a million years but he was desperate. Everything hurt, he was dying of thirst, he needed it to end. “I promise whatever it is I’ll do it as soon as I’m able. Just… please let me down, please.”

“I need a vessel. Yours will do. Let me have it…”

“What does that mean? And… what are you?”

“You can call me Moonjumper.” That didn’t answer the question. “And by ‘vessel’ I mean a body…”

“What?”

“You are going to die anyway. Within the next couple of days if the witch does not come back to free you. So, let me have your body. In return, I will free your ghost. You will be a shadow but you will be free of your shackles…”

“A… a shadow?”

“A powerful ghost but still a ghost so not alive. Do we have a deal?”

Was Lukas crazy for finding that idea appealing? … Yes, without a doubt, it was death that was essentially being offered to him; death with a side of a mysterious entity taking his corpse. But… the alternative was suffering for longer and waiting for Venessa to come back. If what she’d said was true, assuming he lived long enough for her to return, she was going to keep him here with her indefinitely, just the two of them. Surely any fate was better than that so…

“Deal!”

For several seconds there was nothing, not even a sound from Moonjumper, whatever it might be. But then a strong force seemed to tug on Lukas. A nauseating feeling of something ripping accompanied it. It stopped just as suddenly as it had started it. But with it the pain, hunger, and thirst stopped too. It was amazing!

Shaking with relief, he opened his eyes to find he could suddenly see in the dark. Far better than he would’ve liked because he was staring at himself, hanging limp in shackles. It took a bit of the joy of release out of the moment.

Suddenly his body jerked and spasmed, making the chains rattle loudly. Colour drained from its face, fading to grey. Its eyes opened. They were empty, just white, no pupils. “It was a pleasure doing business with you…” the voice came out of it, unchanged other than being a bit louder. Whether that was a blessing since it wasn’t using his voice, or a curse because it was still using his mouth to speak, Lukas couldn’t decide. Before he could respond, it vanished, leaving the chains hanging open and empty.

Lukas shuddered, not from cold though, he barely felt the cold anymore. Maybe giving whatever that thing was his body hadn’t been a good idea. But… he couldn’t find it within himself to care… yet. He might later but for now, he was free and no longer suffering! He couldn’t help but smile for that reason alone, his face felt weird while doing so, like his mouth was stretching up further than should be possible. He didn’t care though. He had to get out of here. First though…

He looked down at himself. His body – ‘form’ was probably a better word for it now – was different. He had no legs but a long tail instead. His arms were long, his hands rounded and strange. He sensed other changes, his face and neck, but without a mirror he couldn’t see them. So, he moved on.

He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. Surely his new form would allow him to traverse along less mundane routes. … How though? … Eh, he’d figured it out later. Getting out and checking on the veracity of Venessa’s claims came first. He did however change course to exit the cellar through the back entrance, leading outside.

He didn’t have the key though so… he’d get to try out his new ghostliness some after all. It was surprisingly easy to slip through the crack between the doors, all he had to do was try. It felt like becoming one with the shadows.

Outside snow had piled up all around the manor. A lot, more than even the deepest of winter should bring. And it was still snowing. Something was wrong; very, very wrong.

He quickly moved on, unbothered by the cold even if he felt it a bit more out here. First, he went to the town. It was frozen over too. Blocks of ice that housed the bodies of residents littered the streets. Outside of town was more and more snow. Finally, he reached the forest. There was snow here too but not as bad, some of it looked to have blown in from the manor. And it wasn’t as cold so given time the now might clear out.

But… everyone was dead. Venessa had been telling the truth. She’d really killed everyone so it’d just be the two of them. … She was a crazy a bitch all right and Lukas never wanted to see her again.

What did he do now though? What could he do? He’d given up his body to an unknown thing and was a shadow, a powerful ghost, according to Moonjumper. What could he do with that power though? Could he destroy Venessa? She clearly had some powerful magic of her own too so could he take her? Did he even really want to try? … No, not really. If he ever saw her face again, even if it was a literal million years from now, it would be too soon. So, unless she came looking for him, he’d leave her to her frozen manor, to wonder its halls alone for the rest of her miserable life, that was a better form of revenge anyway.

What did that leave him with though? … Well, there were the numerous ghosts he’d come across in the frozen town, wondering around lost and confused. Maybe… he could do something for them? He could try anyway. If it worked, he could get them to work for him and together they could try to rebuild something of meaning in the forest, away from the manor and its foul Queen. He’d always wanted to take on a position of leadership and ruling over a bunch of fellow ghosts didn’t sound too bad. This whole death thing might actually be kind of exciting.

#My writing #ahit #A hat in time #The Prince/Queen Vanesse #Snatcher #Moonjumper #Abusive relationship #canonical main character death #mentions of canonical mass murder #Vanessa is a bad person #Moonjumper is an engima

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

Text

The Ghost of You

A new Reddie AU featuring property developer Richie and ghost Eddie. I know I have other unfinished stories but I’ve been working on this today as a distraction from various things and thought I’d post it.

Read it on AO3 HERE

or I’ve also posted it under the cut:

Preview:

The first time Richie sees him, he falls out of a window.

It’s about ten at night, and Richie is painting the grilles on his open bedroom window with the night breeze caressing his face. He’s got the radio on, but every so often the music is suddenly replaced by harsh static that screams into the room for five or six seconds, before the music starts up again like nothing had happened. Richie doesn’t pay attention to it, assuming it’s to do with the terrible reception, until the radio howls like a banshee. When he turns around, he’s met with the sight of a man dressed in an old-fashioned looking khaki uniform who is squatting next to the radio on the floor, and staring at it intently.

Richie promptly jumps, before stumbling backwards, and falling out of the window.

@constantreaderfool @xandertheundead

Richie’s first love is stand-up comedy. He spends most of his adolescent years with his eyes glued to the flickering TV screen, watching late night comedies protected by a blanket of darkness, ready to charge straight up the stairs should he hear the familiar pounding of his father’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

Richie always assumed he’d become a stand-up comedian, or something similar. His mother was forever smiling at him with this dopy, indulgent grin.

‘You should be on the stage, child’, she always told him.

He believes her.

Standing on stage, in front of a sea of squawking, laughing faces. The I did that in your stomach, the I made these people happy.

It doesn’t work out, though. Richie gets horrendous stage-fright, and runs straight off the stage clutching his stomach the first time he attends an open-mic at his local late night coffee shop. It doesn’t make sense. His mom says he’s funny, Bev says he’s funny, the waitress at the diner that does those paprika fries he loves says he's funny (but maybe she’s just being kind and trying to get him to leave a decent tip. He always does.)

He isn’t too cut up about it though. Shit happens. So he leaves stand-up comedy to the professionals, and proceeds to have a minor existential crisis about the direction his life is going in.

His father starts getting a bit impatient, not because he’s frustrated that Richie didn’t go to college, or because Richie is leeching off them or anything remotely similar, but because it cuts him up inside to see his nearly-20-year old son so morose and directionless. So he takes him to work with him.

Wentworth Tozier works as an architect in a small firm in Maine. It’s mainly small domestic projects, the occasional corporate one. Nothing too major. Small houses, buildings to put a new Subway in. Richie is entranced. He loves going with his dad to the sites, he can practically see the cogs in his father’s brain spin and whir as he envisages how he’ll turn this small patch of wasteland into someone’s private sanctuary. Richie decides immediately that he wants a part of this.

Richie apprentices with his father. His dad agrees easily, ecstatic that his son is so enamoured with the field that claimed his own heart when he was pre-college and panicking about where his own life would lead. Richie doesn’t want to go to college, so he can’t become an accredited architect, but that doesn’t matter. Richie isn’t interested in modelling power sockets and skirting boards on the computer. Richie dreams of moulding timber, brick and concrete with his own bare hands, sculpting and crafting and carving out a small piece of perfection.

Property development, is what his father tells him it’s called. He’d be a renovator, and Richie decides that that word sits very nicely indeed on the end of his tongue.

He starts off small. An tired-looking apartment with creaking bones and a dusty sigh. Richie tears out the connecting wall between the lounge and the kitchen, allowing the small space to inhale a much-needed breath of fresh air. He extends the bathroom into the needlessly large master (and only) bedroom, and removes the garish pink ceramic bath, replacing it with a walk in shower. A lick of paint here, a sprinkling of tile here, a dash of wallpaper and some new faux-marble countertops. His father claps him on the back when he sees the finished product. ‘you’ve done good, kid’. Richie knew this was what he was made for.

He’s 28 when he starts feeling the first pinches of boredom at the soles of his feet, 30 when his stomach aches slightly when he wakes up in the morning before work, and 34 when he decides that it isn’t enough for him anymore.

His father, now retired and living off a very comfortable pension, offers to lend him some money while he figures out what he wants to do next. Richie grumbles for a few weeks, feeling uncomfortable about taking his dads money. He uhms and ahhs about it, waxing poetic to Bev in the bar after work about how property development wasn’t sparking the pilot light in his soul quite like it used to. Bev nodded sympathetically, and made comforting hums at all the right intervals. Richie left the bar five times drunker and fifty times more appreciative for her friendship.

He’s 36 when he decides to move to Scotland.

He’s been considering it for a while. Find a derelict church, or a run-down old manor house, buy it for an eye-wateringly cheap price, live in it, renovate it, and flip it. A two year project, max. Something to get his teeth into and stave off the anxious dreams that have him shooting up in bed at night, face sticky with sweat and heart beating with ‘this can’t be it, please say this isn’t it’.

His relationship with Jasmine had broken down. She couldn’t understand why Richie was so restless, why he’d toss and turn at night instead of hunkering down into the cosy nest of safe, steady, predictable. He didn’t blame her. He knew it was frustrating. Hell, he was frustrated. They ended it pretty amicably. A few tears on both sides, a half-hearted promise to remain friends. Richie knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t really mind.

He’d been half-cut and half-asleep when he’d stumbled on it. A beautiful 19th century building on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. It had originally been an orphanage, before changing hands and purpose multiple times over the years. School, a brief stint as a police station, before it was abandoned in 1947, just after the war. The building is on the lip of a lake, and sits nestled comfortably into a small hillock. The brickwork is run down, patches of orange lichen growing excitedly across the otherwise grey surface. There are two working chimneys emerging from the slate roof that connected to two working fire-places. There’s a small porch connected to the front door, and a back door in the kitchen that leads out into an unfenced back garden. It’s ugly, and sits tired and unassuming against the harsh bracken moors of Scotland, not a neighbour in sight. Richie is immediately besotted with it.

He phones Bev, not caring that it’s nearly 3am and he’s definitely still drunk and is probably definitely somewhat delusional. She picks up on the fifth ring.

“what the fuck, Rich, it’s arse o’clock in the morning. Are you dying? If you’re not dying you’re gonna wish you were”

“I found it”

“Huh? Found what? If you found your lost sock and decided to ring me to tell me, I swear to god, Trashmouth, I’m gonna gut you, you –“

“No, Jesus Red, no. I found it. I found the one”

“the one? You mean that dude you were grinding on yesterday? I mean, he was kinda weird looking, wasn’t he? Looked a bit like a trout. But if you think he’s the one I guess –“

“Can it, Marsh. One, I wasn’t talking about him but oh my god he totally looks like a trout and two, I mean, the house”

“Shit. The house?”

“Yup”

“The house, the house? You mean – THE house?”

“Yes!”

“Holy shit. Where is it?”

“…”

“Rich…”

“Scotland”

“Holy shit”

“I know”

Getting a visa is about as much of a nightmare as Richie expects. It takes forever, and every day he checks the real estate website, sweaty palms and palpitating heart, expecting the little house on the moor to have disappeared from the internet. It never does.

After about four months, and tearful goodbyes to Beverly at the airport, Richie’s on a plane to Scotland. His parents were initially hugely sceptical, lecturing him on the dangers of buying a property without viewing it, and lamenting about how much they’ll miss him when he’s thousands of miles away. They don’t try to stop him though.

Richie spends most of plane ride jittering in his seat. He ends up sat next to a Scottish woman, who balances her tiny daughter on her knee. Richie smiles at the tiny redheaded girl and she smiles back at him, all gums and no teeth. He falls asleep half an hour before they land.

He hires a car at Edinburgh airport. The drive takes him around six hours, a combination of busy main roads and winding country tracks that split the Scottish landscape like veins. He sails over the Skye bridge, and he’s only an hour or two away from paradise.

When he’s about twenty minutes away, he starts getting panicky. He’d spoken to the letting agent at length over Skype, and they’d emailed him a list of all the things that would need fixing, or replacing. It was a very long list. When Richie had received the list he’d not been able to see it as anything other than a challenge, something to get his teeth into. Something to occupy his restless brain. Now though, the list sat like lead in his pocket.

The house sits at the end of an unkempt muddy track, standing alone amongst the foliage. Richie pulls himself out of the car, stretching his aching arms behind his head.

He stares at the house.

The house looks back at him.

He rings his dad.

“y’ello?”

“Hey, Dad”

“Rich! Did you make it okay, laddy?”

“Och, aye!”

“Your Scottish accent is as awful as mine”

“I know”

“How is she?”

“She’s beautiful”

“Need a lot of TLC?”

“More than I think I’m capable of giving her”

“Hey, now. Where’s that trade-mark Richie confidence? Or, should I say, trade-mark Richie arrogance?”

“You’re supposed to be giving me a pep-talk, old man”

“I know, I know. You’ve got it, kid. You know you do. I’ll come out and visit you in a few months, maybe stay for a few weeks. Scotland is supposed to be real nice in the summer. Save some of the really tricky parts until then, okay? I don’t want you to hurt yourself”

“Your concern is touching”

“Richie, I’m serious”

“I know”

“Your mother misses you already”

“I bet she does, now she’s only got you for company”

“I miss you”

“I know”

“I’m here for you. Even half way across the world. You’re my boy”

“love you, dad”

“Knock ‘em dead, son”

Beep beep beep beep

The house stands in front of him, silently waiting. The wild, windy moors stretch far away.

Richie doesn’t do anything to the house for a few days. He drives nearly two hours to the nearest town, and stocks up on all the tools and equipment he thinks he’ll need, before quickly realising that he’ll need to take a trip to one of the larger cities to buy the more expensive materials. He imagines the postal services out in the middle of nowhere leave much to be desired.

The house is much louder than he expected it to be. The moors are noisy, rustling leaves and bleating sheep and wind that whips through your skin and freezes your bones. The house is nearly as loud. Everything creaks, and moans and sighs, loud protests against whatever Richie happens to be doing, whether walking up the stairs or throwing logs into the burner.

He starts working on it four days after he moves in.

The first time Richie sees him, he falls out of a window.

Richie promptly jumps, before stumbling backwards, and falling out of the window.

When Richie comes to, he’s lying on the ground directly below the window he fell out of.

There’s a pillow under his head.

The second time Richie sees him, he pours boiling water all over his foot.

It’s been a few weeks since Richie fell out of the window. He’s forgotten about the man in the khaki uniform that he thought he saw looking at his radio, having convinced himself that it must have been a figment of his overtired imagination.

The house is still, for all intents and purposes, unliveable. There is no hot water, there is no gas, and Richie has to go to the toilet in trenches he digs in the middle of the woodland a few minutes’ walk from the back door. He has never been happier.

He’s knocked a few walls through, the downstairs is now an open plan space, and he’s ordered a new bathroom suite that is supposed to arrive today, along with a plumber that he found online. His name is Mike Hanlon, and he’s lived in the Isle of Skye his whole life.

When Mike arrives, he’s joined with a collie who Mike affectionately calls Mr Chips. Richie scratches the dog behind the ears, and receives a few licks to the inside of his wrist for his trouble.

Mike helps Richie haul the constituent parts of the bathroom suite up the rickety stair case, and Richie is overjoyed to discover that Mike doesn’t complain once. Richie leaves Mike in the bathroom, tinkering with the pipes connected to the old, broken ceramic toilet, and begins to make them both cups of tea using a camping stove connected to a gas cannister he’d bought when he’d been in town.

He’s pouring water from the small camping kettle into Mike’s mug (breakfast tea, no milk, no sugar, thanks, Rich!) when Richie catches sight of the man in the khaki uniform, turning the ring on the gas cannister with a hesitant finger.

Richie startles, the force of which sends his arm flailing through the air, and sends the contents of the kettle sailing through the air in a graceful arc before landing on his foot.

Richie curses, grabbing the bottle of cold water sat on the worktop, and quickly proceeds to pour the contents over his poor, red raw foot.

When he looks up again, the man has gone.

One of the other bottles of water has upended itself on a cloth, however. Richie doesn’t think anything of it when he grabs the soaking wet cloth and wraps it around his foot.

The third time Richie sees him, he learns his name.

A month later, Mike has finished the bathroom. The plaster on the walls is still white and unpainted, and the floor hasn’t been properly tiled yet, but the bath, sink and toilet has been replaced, and Richie was half way through wiring the extractor fan. Mike had kindly agreed to stay on and help Richie replace the kitchen sink, and install the washing machine and tumble dryer. Richie was elated. He’d grown close with Mike quickly, and he loved listening to Mike’s stories about Scottish folklore. Richie listened to Mike talk for hours about kelpies and the loch ness monster and never found himself drifting off.

Soon enough, they broached the topic of ghosts.

“Do you believe in ghosties then, Mikey?” Richie asks, the man in the khaki uniform a vivid picture in his mind.

“Well, they say that energy cannot be created nor destroyed, right? That’s an important element of the physics of life, so, I can’t accept that when we die we just … disappear, and all that energy just leaks into the air? Where would it go?”

“I dunno, back into the ground?”

“Nah, I don’t reckon so. I reckon it’s gotta go somewhere else. I reckon our consciousness, like, the thing that makes us truly us, escapes our physical bodies when they run out of energy and become something else. Maybe we become light. Maybe we become oxygen, I don’t know.”

“So you don’t believe in ghosts in the sense that you don’t believe we can walk around as physical manifestations of how our physical bodies looked, then?”

“I just dunno, Rich. We probably will never know. Here – hand me that spanner, this bolt is being a feckin’ nightmare”

Richie thought about what Mike had said for a long time.

The third time Richie sees him, he learns his name.

When Mike had left for the evening, Richie waded into the shallow lake, water lapping around the tops of his rubber boots. He threw small pebbles into the water. Plip Plip Plip. The moor was uncharacteristically silent. He stared down into the water.

The reflection of the man dressed in the khaki uniform stared back at him.

Richie turned around.

The man in the khaki uniform was stood next to him, wringing his hands, his brow furrowed.

Richie swallowed.

“Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Eddie”

“Why d’ya keep letting yourself into my house, Eddie?”

Richie fought against his quivering voice to keep his tone stern and challenging.

“I – I don’t. It’s hard to explain. What year is it?”

“Uh… what?"

“What year is it?”

“Are you on drugs or something, dude? Lost on your way back from a costume party?”

“Please, just tell me, what year is it?"

“2019”

“Ah”

“What’d’ya mean, ‘ah’?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen anyone in this house since 1947”

“… Dude you cannot be over 70 fucking years old. Stop bullshitting me, just tell me the truth and I promise I won’t get Mike to impale you on one of those rubber poles he keeps in his van”

“I’m not over 70. I'm 38 – I was 38.”

“Well, how do you know no one’s been in this house since 1947? And what do you mean, you 'were' 38?”

“Because I’ve been here on my own since 1947”

“You’re still not making any sense, my man”

Eddie rubbed his hand over his face, and sighed.

“You won’t believe me, so there isn’t much point”

“Try me”

“I worked here. This place was used as an evacuation safe house for children from across Scotland, but mainly Edinburgh and Glasgow. They were moved here to escape the bombing. I worked here as a doctor, I cared for the children. I – I died here.”

“What do you mean, you died here?”

“I was stabbed”

“hang on – bombing? To escape bombing?”

Richie could barely breathe.

“Yes, bombing.”

“… And you said you haven’t seen anyone here since 1947”

“That is correct”

“So, what you’re telling me is that –"

“Yes”

“You’re …”

“I am”

Richie doesn’t reply. He turns around, and walks back into the house.

When he shuts the door, the lake glitters like a pool of liquid mercury. Eddie has gone.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #the ghost of you #ao3 #thefutureisbright

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emeraldvagabond · 5 years

Text

Foreigner’s God

2/?

Warnings: Death, Gore, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Arranged Marriages, Underage Pregnancy, Cursing.

Summary: Deidra Augustine sailed the world- as a child she went between the faerie world and her own with her aunts. Now, she wants her sister to experience the same freedom before she marries into some family she barely knows. When a storm washes them up on unknown shores, with new, immortal bodies, both sisters realize that the stories they’ve been told their whole childhood were more than that. And the world that awaits them now is more than they can handle on their own. [Aka, Deidra and Peony wash up in the wilds of Prythian- and somehow find a home in the ruined Spring Court.]

Took me long enough

————————————

Deidra

—————————

Deidra was certain her legs were going to fall off in the next three steps. Every thud of her boot clad feet onto the forest floor was worsening her headache and sending waves a nausea to her stomach. Heightened senses were supposed to help her on her journey, the people of the little village she’d taken refuge in promised it would. So far it had only made her paranoid and sick.

More than that, there was a horrible feeling of dread creeping through Deidra’s veins, worming it’s way up into her mind in a kind of anxiety she had never felt before. The healer, Killian, if she remembered right, was doing everything she could for Peony.

It wasn’t enough.

Deidra had realized, three days ago as Nyx, the warrior who had found them, told her a story of the Highlords gardens and the kind of magic that could be found inside the plants that grew there, that Peony was not going to live. That without the healing magic, from a source that happened to be directly in the heart of Spring, Peony had only weeks. At best. Nyx told her that Killian was only being kind- trying to sooth her, that Peony had only nights before she passed. Deidra had slept on the thought, and then demanded to know the way to the Highlord’s home. ‘This is a fools mission’ Nyx had whispered two days later, while seeing her off. Deidra insisted she had to try.

The manor of the highlord was three days away on foot if she did not stop to sleep or eat. And then she would need to convince him that she needed a rose from his garden. As Nyx had told her, he was not in a bargaining mood. Had not been in any sort of mood for centuries.

Great, her little journey might be for nothing, and more than that, she was alone. With new clothes, and a sword she knew she could use, but hadn’t needed to in years since she’d stopped traveling with her band of thieves and low-lives, trekking across the unknown lands of the Spring Court.

There was a sharp crack from her right, and Deidra’s entire body went taut. She only had two days of travel left. She was hungry and angry and afraid. And she had to come back, because Peony needed her.

She wondered when she had started being able to scent magic in the air, before the fact that magic was being used close enough to her to make the air crackle with electricity fully kicked her system into overdrive. The blade she’d hoped to avoid using was unsheathed in seconds, every breath Deidra took she counted. Every beat of her heart echoed inside her own head.

Fear rattled through her- and Deidra had the moment to think, ‘I’m dying’ before black began to spot through her vision and weigh her limbs down. Forward, she had to move forward. Keep pushing. Get away.

She might as well have been dragging her feet, maybe she was, All her limbs were heavy and beginning to go numb and her vision was blurring entirely. The trees before her were becoming just blots of brown against a sickeningly green background.

She had to go forward, forward.

Deidra wasn’t sure when she had dropped her sword, and she wasn’t sure when her foot had caught on a root along the forest floor, only vaguely aware that these things had happened, and that she was now crawling on her hands and knees across the ground.

Through her dizzy haze, Deidra felt a shock of pain up her left arm, which twitched violently before giving out. She didn’t have the strength to push herself up, but she tried. Again and again as darkness closing in on her at a suffocating rate. She was dying. She was dying. She had to be dying. They’d poisoned her. She should have listened to Nyx.

What would happen to Peony?

“What a silly thought,” Deidra mumbled to herself, “She’ll die too.”

She found consolation in the fact that they would go together, and that her sister was not awake to be disappointed when she never came back. That she would spend her final moments locked in her hazy dreams, too done out from the potions Killian had been giving her to feel any pain.

——

There was a quiet laugh, and Deidra realized it was coming from her-

No, from Peony. She remembered this day, Peony had been the one to laugh, and she had said,

“Oh stop! I’m serious!”

“I know you are!” Deidra- Peony, continued laughing, “The beautiful Cadence has swayed you from your adventures and compelled you to settle down!”

“That’s not what I said at all!”

It was weird, to watch herself from her sister’s eyes. Had she really looked like that back then? How long ago had it been since they’d had this conversation?

“You said-“

“I know what I said!” Deidra. She, snapped.

“So she did get you to settle down and stop adventuring?”

“No.”

Wow, she had spit that word with a lot of venom. Had she really been that mad? She could remember the searing rage, but not the way she had expressed it so openly. Peony seemed taken aback as well, confusion washed over her sister, travelled through her whole body.

“I want her to come with me, I’m not coming back here,” Deidra huffed.

A cold wind ruffled the curtains, and suddenly she was holding a baby, kissing the top of a little boy’s head, “Your Auntie Peony love you, so very, very much Augustus,” she whispered, as tiny fists took hold of her braided hair and yanked hard.

Sunlight filtered through the windows and every time Augustus shifted his eyes they became a different shade of golden brown, so young and so innocent. The moment so gentle. A feeling of ease settled over Peony, warming her from the inside out.

Deidra stood in the doorway, tears stealing down her cheeks and falling to the floor like diamonds and sapphires, cutting through Peony’s heart. Melting snow slid down the windows behind her and Peony thought, hopefully, foolishly hopefully, that perhaps this time Deidra would stay.

Beneath her feet the floor shifted from wood, to damp grass, sunlight shifted to a dark sky and lanterns strung through a grove, bustling with life. The light beat of a drum and the high voice of a singer.

And she was spinning, spinning, spinning. So wildly she thought she would lift from the ground and begin to float at any moment. Aiken stopped atop a hill, leaning against an oak tree, his eyes burned into her. Peony grinned and slowly came to a stop, but the world around her continued, and when she caught his eyes her breath stopped. Everything stopped, his messy black hair tossed up and beginning to fall out of place, his dark eyes watching her so intensely. Peony swallowed and pushed her curls away from her face, “Well? Are you going to join me?” She asked breathlessly.

The traveling hunter smiled, “I’m having such a good time watching,”

“Well if you don’t come dance with me, I think I might float away.”

Aiken thought for a moment, and his smile shifted to something she couldn’t quite name, “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he strolled down the hillside, “Don’t ever loose this, don’t ever stop dancing like this,”

“I think I might grow rather tired if I dance forever,”

“It’ll be worth it,” he promised, his hand wrapping around her hip, “When you float away,”

“And where would I fly to? What happens when I fall?”

Aiken leaned down, his lips brushing across her cheek. Peony reached out to trace her fingertips along the pointed tip of his ear, grinning at the way he buried his face against her neck, “When you fall I’ll catch you, and we’ll dance again,”

Peony was certain she could never be happier than this. That she could never lo-

——

Deidra’s entire body ached.

“I need to stop waking up like this,” she huffed, and rolled over to stare at the night sky. The stars shimmered above her, and she could practically hear their little voices, taunting and ridiculing her.

How long had she been sleeping? Passed out and living her sister’s life? How many days had gone by, how many faeries had passed and picked at her before deciding her corpse wasn’t worth the trouble and carrying on.

Deidra stumbled to her feet and looked around. If her missing bag and supplies were anything to go by, she had been out a while. Or maybe she had just crawled further than she had realized.

It didn’t matter, she decided as she trudged through the thorns that were beginning to peak from the ground, clinging to her clothes and embedding in her skin when she had the displeasure of touching them. Peony needed her, no matter how long she had been out that wouldn’t change. Her sister was in a bed, drugged out of consciousness and fading from this world. It didn’t matter why she had gone through her sister’s life, why she’d experienced her sister’s memories like a bunch of surrealist panel paintings that had fit together on the blank wall of her mind. It didn’t matter that Aiken looked suspiciously familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place. That his voice was resounding in her head because she’d heard it at some point in the very, very recent past that she couldn’t place.

It didn’t matter that it felt like a complete violation to Peony’s life, even if she hadn’t slunk her way through anything intimate.

What mattered was finding this manor. Finding this cure, and Deidra needed to do that fast.

Only a day later, though the journey had seemed much harder and much longer, Deidra stood atop a crest, her sword gone and her supplies missing. With nothing but hope and tears that were beginning to build in her eyes at the thought of being rejected, staring down the beginning of a path through the gardens Nyx had told her of.

The manor was splendid. Ridiculously huge, and probably more expensive to build than all of her relatives could afford put together. Her steps were heavy against the dirt walkway, where flowers and weeds were beginning to sprout up. A poorly kept garden for someone with enough wealth to live in what might as well have been a palace.

But as Deidra drew closer, she understood. There were no servants here, no living person save for the creature that was radiating magic from inside.

Only half a step later did she realize that both the large double doors were unhinged. One, cracked down the middle and tossed into one of the nearby rose bushes. Crushing the flowers and digging into the soil beneath, and the other, broken into pieces atop the stairs.

Deidra steeled herself, drug her fingers through the horrid claw marks that marred the wood of the doorframe, and followed the electric feel of faerie magic into the dark hall.

#acotar fanfic #acomaf #acotar #acowar #acofas #tamlin #OcxTamlin #foreigners god #every character eventually

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hollowedrpg · 5 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, LUCY! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Your application was straight, and to the point, because it was clear you knew exactly how Kingsley fits into this world. Not only do you understand who he is now, but there were moments in your application that I saw you’d understand how he fits into future plots. I’m so excited to have the original Order trio filled at last!

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: Lucy

age: 28

preferred pronouns: She, her

timezone: +10 – Brisbane, australia

activity: On a scale of 1-10, I’d say 8. I work from home doing social media & marketing for a bunch of companies, so I’m always near a computer

are you applying for more than one character?: no, would like to in the future perhaps!

how do you feel about your character dying?: Obviously it would be hard, but if it’s important for the story, I’d be fine with it, and would look to maybe applying for another character after.

anything else?: nope, just excited to get started

ic details.

full name: Kingsley Shacklebolt

date of birth: 12/12/1949

former hogwarts house: Gryffindor - I know this might in debate, lots might say Ravenclaw, but there is too much bravery and chivalry in his actions, and his goals and his beliefs to say otherwsie to me! It takes avery brave person not to raise a fist when one is coming at you.

sexuality: Straight

gender/pronouns: he/him

face claim change: Very okay with Michael B. Jordan!

more.

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

Kingsley’s character is 100% defined by his actions and the actions of those around him. I imagine him to be pensive and calculating, not in a bad way, just that he was always weigh the pro’s and cons of his actions and how his behaviour could be viewed by someone looking from the outside in, which means he spends a lot of time in his own head. His father’s actions and legacy deeply affected him, in a sense that is his self drive, to never allow that to happen again. This to me is why his professors may have believe him to be reserved, or quiet, but he’s not. He’s the sort of person would never use two words when one will do.

I imagine him to have this huge amount of kindness in him that doesn’t get to be shown often enough lately. It’s connected to his protective instincts too. He had to prove himself to be shown kindness from some people thanks to his family name, so he does not withhold that from other people when they are deserving of it. This is partly why he only uses defensive spells, as he will not cause harm to another. He once stopped a duel to prevent his opponent from causing harm to themselves. However his upbringing and what he has witnessed has caused him to have a hard exterior that does not allow this kindness to outwardly show.

I would love to explore Kingsley potentially having a temper at times, but not once does it ever escape him, he keeps it all inside, as he’s determined to never act on an aggressive or violent impulse, he just supresses them for the sake of his goal to fight war with peace, or defence at the very least. I think he would be frustrated at all the hoops he’s had to jump through in his life, thanks to his father and his name, and to continue coming up against brick walls would eventually grate on him, and the temper might flair inside. Particularly lately with no body listening to his suggestions to hide the Order which he knows is for the greater good. Everyone is just too wand happy and of the belief the end with justify the means – something Kingsley does not at all believe, having witnessed too many bad things happening because of that belief.

Positive Traits for Kingsley would be loyalty and his self-control, with everything he’s seen and done, people still marvel at the fact he has never once cast an attacking spell. Negative traits would be that he is blaming himself for things well beyond his control, and that sometimes the amount of times he spends inside his own head debating his own actions and their consequences means he sometimes fails to act when he should.

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

I think he found solice with the Order, and enjoyed feeling like he could make a difference in a war that seemed so much bigger than him, but now, after Godrics Hollow and the Malfoy Manor, he’s beginning to see that even peaceful non-resistance actions can have dangerous consequences, and any intelligence they’ve been given cannot be relied upon, which is why he’s an advocate for hiding out until the war is over. He’s tired of seeing families ripped apart, and knowing other little boys or girls are going to grow up without a parent or parents just like him.

The death of the Longbottom’s son has greatly affected him, especially as he brought Frank and Alice on board, he feels a huge sense of guilt there. His mistrustful nature seems to be growing slightly too. He knows how seductive the other side can be, and he wants more than anything, to prevent losing any more friends, either to death or to have them join the Death Eaters.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why?

Kingsley is an advocate for hiding until it is safe to emerge, obviously and despite his disagreement with how Moody and Arabella want to move the Order, he is aware that they are safest together, not splitting in two.. So internally he is completely torn between his plan, and wanting to keep the Order together.. Without allowing himself to be arrogant, he knows they would benefit from his skill, but he just can’t bear to see any more people die for something that none of them deserve to be dying for. This shouldn’t be there fight to fight, not when they are falling in such rapid numbers, but the desire for good to triumph keeps Kingsley going. His instinct to protect his friends and family cannot allow him to abandon the Order, but he can’t see a way to keep fighting in a war that to him seems to be destroying both sides. Many who are joining the Order, or were around before Godrics Hollow and Malfoy Manor want revenge, and Kingsley cannot pretend his brand of reasoned argument for hiding it out will convince them. His desperation to protect everyone, to save them from a worthless death is mounting. Violence has solved nothing, and left them with less members, and more heartbreak and guilt.

Kingsley knows his strengths, and he knows he could protect everyone he just needs them to listen to him.

Additional Question: What does Kingsley think the Order’s next move should be? Does he believe the war can still be won?

I think I sort of answered that above, but these additional questions are what constantly rolls through his mind these days, almost torturing him, because he’s son torn. Potentially he wants to put it about through sources he knows are spies for the other side, that the Order is finished, to stop the other side hunting for members. To keep the Order safer. But he also knows that won’t stop them all, some of them are out for blood and would not be happy without it all over their hands. In some of the dark moments, I think he doesn’t believe they can win. That’s the thought pattern that drives him to want to keep everyone hidden and safe, to continue to protect them. However that thought doesn’t stop him wanting peace. He will strive for nothing but peace and equilibrium amongst witches, wizards and muggles, so for that reason, he maybe hopes that it can be won, but the part of his brain that exists in the real world, says otherwise.

All he’s very sure of now is that he does not want the Order to do anymore recruitment. He will not tolerate bringing more people in to die because of something he is in charge of.

#hp rp #rp #marauders rp #lsrpg #hp roleplay #accepted

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superpsychonutcase · 5 years

Photo

A short story I wrote and submitted into a contest. Based off play I am currently writing which was inspired by a monologue for a Theater Appreciation class that was required for my grade.

The smell of paint lingered in the air even after four days. The odor was worth it though; maroon suited my parlor rather well. Perhaps another week and my friends will stay longer than five minutes before the scent chases them away.

I was cleaning up the tea service when someone began pounding on the door. “Bella? Bella, are you home?”

Hearing the panicked baritone of Damian Blackthorn made my lips curl in derision. Four days since Aria’s disappearance and he finally comes knocking at my door. I set down the china laden tray and dusted off my lavender tea dress. Kept me waiting long enough.

Damian continued his assault as I breezed through my childhood home. The small mansion felt almost too large. With mother five years dead and father slipping further into depression at the asylum, the halls seemed bigger. Tokens from our lives, their travels, pictures of us three, still dotted the rooms and walls of Atwood Manor. They invoked painfully sweet memories every now and then, but I couldn’t bear to store them away. Everything from the giant Ming dynasty vases in the parlour to the Faberge eggs display in the kitchen took up space, but moving the expensive knick knacks would only make the house emptier. The vacant rooms were mockery enough, a constant reminder of my humiliation by the hands of a man who once promised me the world.

I stopped in front of the gilded mirror in the foyer for a quick check as no self respecting belle should open her door before making sure she looks her best. My shiny auburn tresses were secured in a flawless french chignon. My makeup was impeccable, my clothes cleanly pressed, and my jewelry elegant yet simple. Perfect for watching a man grovel.

Another quick touch up, just to be safe, and I opened the door.

Standing on my porch, looking downtrodden and pathetic, was Damian Blackthorn. His black hair, normally in artful disarray, appeared to have been quickly combed. The man’s clothes would have sent his mother into a raging fit if she could see the wrinkles in his linen suit. Dark bags hung under red rimmed gray eyes, which lacked their usual spark. Even the family crest ring on his right ring finger seemed to have lost its luster. A white rainflower was tucked in his breast pocket. So he wishes to atone for his sins, does he?

His shoulders slumped upon seeing me. “Bella.” he sighed in relieved despair.

While he was weighed down by his woes, I stood tall and proud. “Mr. Blackthorn.” I replied.

He flinched at my formality. I had never said his name so coldly. “Bella, may I please come inside?”

It was tempting to shut the door on him, but it wouldn't be ladylike of me. I took a step back and bid him enter. Damian sighed, as if he has been holding his breath, before tentatively padding into a house he knew as well as his own. I wanted to slam the door, but Mama taught me better than to show weakness where others can see.

I shut the door with faux calm and followed the gentleman into the parlor. Damian was examining the walls in confusion. “You repainted?”

“It was time for a change.” I reveled in his hurt. Back when we were little, my parents had decided to redecorate. Papa had allowed Damian and me to choose the color for the greeting room. After much bickering, we had settled on a light, sea foam green. “Like your eyes,” Damian said. While we weren’t allowed to help paint, I remember we had been so proud. The parlor is an important room in a home, the first place a guest will see and must be maintained to make the best impression. Mama and Papa had liked it, too. They said it made the room feel lighter. Now the once bright walls had bled into a dark red, like my heart did when he announced his engagement to that floozie and made me a laughing stock.

Damian looked around the room again, his expression troubled. “Shame. I had a fondness for that color.”

A lady is a master of small talk, but I was in no mood to entertain him. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out sending apology letters?”

The man peered down at his feet and heaved a despondent sigh. He twisted the ring upon his finger, a nervous tick he has always had. “That is what I’m here to do, Bella. Of everyone in this town, it is you that deserves an apology the most.”

Fury licked at my chest with white hot flames. All these months of minding my temper had been a test of my will, and it was crumbling under the strain. “So I am suddenly deserving of your gallantry? And what are you apologizing for exactly, Mr. Blackthorn? Are you apologizing for your behavior in the town square? How about for breaking your promises, hm?”

“Bella, please don’t do this.” A hand came up to rest over his eyes. “I’m trying to make things right again.”

I barely contained an unfeminine snort, instead crossing my arms under my ample chest. “Is that so, Mr. Blackthorn? Pray tell, how do you think you could make things right? Did you honestly think an apology could ever fix what you’ve done?”

Damian’s hand dropped to his side, clenched in frustration. His voice held a note of restraint as if he had the right to be angry. “Damn it all, Bella! What do you want me to say: that you were right all along?! If so, then I admit it! You were right about Aria! You tried to tell me that she was only after money and security, and I didn’t listen! I’m sorry for spurning you! I’m sorry for ignoring your suspicions! And I’m sorry for breaking my promise! Are you happy now?!”

I watched as he stood there panting after his loud tirade. Only after he gained his breath did I respond, calmly as a lady should. “No, I’m not happy, Damian. Do you want to know why?”

He didn’t say anything. All he could do was stare at me with depressed longing.

“I’m not happy because my hopes, our dreams, our future together are gone. Shattered and broken, torn asunder by your hands.” I began to stalk around the room, circling the man as a cat would a mouse. “I had always known we would marry one day. We would spend hours in our backyards laying in the grass and planning our lives. You pursued me before my presentation, the suitors at my debut only attended in name as you had staked your claim for my hand. You were my shoulder to cry on when my mother passed, and I yours when your parents died. Even as my father retreated into his own mind, you promised that you would take care of me. Then you went on your three year trip to expand your business. Before you left, you gave me your grandmother’s bracelet. You said that would place a diamond on my finger once you returned. You asked me to wait, and wait I did.

“Several men came knocking at my door barely a month after your departure. Suitors of all kinds came bearing vows to love me till their dying breaths. Still I turned them away saying I was spoken for. No matter how long it took, I was determined to wait for you.”

Damian, the man I had dreamed about for as long as I could remember, looked so downtrodden. His eyes watered, tears threatening to fall. He reached out, his hand extended to take mine. “Bells…”

“No!” I draw back violently. “You don’t get to call me that! You have lost the privilege, Mr. Blackthorn, after you threw away our future to pursue that money-hungry harlot you supposedly put in the pudding club!”

He collapsed on the couch, hands running and gripping his thick, wavy hair. “What else could I have done, Bella? I know I made a mistake! I was only trying to do what was right!”

“And where did that get you?! Your fiancée got cold feet and ran off, taking with her an engagement ring that has been in your family for the last six generations along with a box of your mother’s jewelry!” I almost missed his quiet sob. The small shake of his shoulders was the only sign of Damian’s distress. “I warned you about her! I told you that a daughter of mobster would bring you misery! And what did you do, Damian? You brushed me off. And only 3 weeks ago, you dressed me down in the town square! You held that snake in your arms while you tore me to pieces for commenting on how thin she looked!”

Tears began slipping down his face, catching on his scruff. “She had a miscarriage.” His voice wavered with doubt.

I fought back another snort of derision. I rolled a manicured hand, loosening my aching muscles. “A confession she made not long after my humiliation, I’m sure. Tell me, Mr. Blackthorn, did it ever occur to you that Miss Kita lied about being pregnant? Lied so that she could marry into your money?”

Damian’s silence was answer enough.

I gave a haughty sniff, just like Mama taught me, and began padding toward the foyer. “I reckon you better be leaving now, Mr. Blackthorn.”

My trek came to a sudden halt as Damian gently grabbed my arm. “Miss Atwood, Bella, I know I’ve done wrong by you. However, if you would find forgiveness in your heart, I would uphold my promises I made to you and our parents.”

And so it begins. I fought the grin tugging at my lips. I whipped around, yanking my arm from his grasp, wearing a mask of rage. “You would uphold your promise?! Just where was this attitude when Aria came waltzing into town? When she was bawling on your doorstep, proclaiming that she was with your child? Now that your precious hummingbird has flown off I’m suddenly worthy of your name? Well I’m sorry, Mr. Blackthorn! While you were off nesting with Miss Kita, Mr. Callaway has been courting me.”

Damian, in a most ungentlemanly act, choked out a chortle. “Charles Callaway?! The head of Callaway Lumber?! He’s new money!”

I calming picked lint off my shoulder. “He may be from new money, but he is an honorable man.”

A soft wheeze of disbelief escaped Damian’s mouth. “So that’s it, then? You’re going to court Charles Callaway.”

“Perhaps.” My delicate shoulders lifted in a shrug. “The man seems to like me well enough.”

The male before me regained his senses. Anguish flared to life in his silver orbs. “But Charles?! Out of all the men in Whysteria, you chose the gambler?”

“He is a respectable man and seems to have a good head for business.” My back ached. Perhaps I should skip my embroidery today and take a nap.

Damian snorted lividly, not unlike a bull. “He leeches off his father’s success. Charles has as much head for business as a swine.”

I fiddled with a vase of light purple mallows and blue lobelias. The silky petals felt pleasant under my skin. “Perhaps he just needs a wife to steer him right.” I turned and faced my childhood sweetheart head on. “I am 25, Damian. For three years, I waited for you. I watched as my friends got married and had children. I wanted nothing more than to have that with you. And you returned only to be followed by a tryst you had on your travels and pledged your life to her.”

“I was only trying to…” I placed a finger upon his lips. They were chapped though still as soft I as remembered.

“Do the gentlemanly thing, as you were taught.” I lowered my hand back to my side. “You made your choice, Damian. And in doing so, you left me open to courtship offers. Unfortunately, you also made me the subject of gossip. Mr. Callaway wasn’t my first choice, but all other bachelors are either taken or refuse to challenge your claim.”

Damian reached out to take my hand only to drop it when I pulled away. “So you will settle for nw money?”

Breathing heavily through my nose, I nodded in confirmation. “It’s far past time for me to start a family.”

He took a tentative step. “And my promises to our parents?”

“Considering your short-lived engagement to Aria, they obviously meant nothing to you.” My voice was harder than I meant it to be, but his flinch pleased me.

Another step forward and I could feel his hot breath against my forehead. “But it does, Bella! Aria has run off. We can still be together.”

“I am not your consolation prize, Damian.” I let my head fall, closing my eyes. “I’d like for you to leave.”

The two of us, childhood friends long grown, stood in silence. Our soft breathes were the only sounds to be heard. The air was laden with bitter heartbreak. After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, Damian shuffled out of my ancestral home. Before he could close the door, I let loose a sob. It was soft and watery, yet loud enough that it made him pause before closing the door. My chest and throat shuddered as the wooden porch creaked under his retreating footsteps.

My abdominal muscles constricted again, and the sob was replaced with a snicker. Then I was outright laughing in the empty house. I stumbled along the hall, catching myself on the walls, all while laughing in euphoric triumph.

I wound up in the kitchen as my laughter trailed off into twisted giggles. Gazing out the back window as I caught my breath again, I let my eyes fall on the garden. The garden that was my mother’s pride and joy when she was alive. Under my care, the blooms weren’t nearly as healthy. It wasn’t hard to admit my mother had a thumb greener than mine. Gardening was never one of my passions, but I did my best to maintain Mama’s flowers and produce as best as I could. “That almost went too perfectly.”

Portraying hurt and anger wasn’t exactly difficult as just thinking of Aria stealing my future husband away from me always stokes my rage to a wild flame. “But he’ll come back. He’s too honorable to let to let me marry such common filth.” And if he didn’t, I’d have to stage some domestic dispute. “I’ll give it two, maybe three weeks time before he challenges that brute away from me.”

I sighed contentedly and took one last look at the garden. My roses were looking rather wilty. Hopefully, the plants will grow and thrive with Aria fertilizing them.

#Short Story #Southern Belle #Broken Promises

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ekaterinakostrova · 6 years

Text

She felt it all—too keenly, too sharply.

Nesta is accused of ill-treatment of her younger sister (abuse and violence against Feyre), but Nesta has many reasons for this behavior - and Nesta's cruel words do not mean that she does not like her younger sister. Otherwise, Nesta would never risk her life for her sister and other people. Nesta's current condition - her rudeness, her cold behavior, alienation from the outside world (after ACOFAS’s events she’s totally cut off from the outside world) - is the only way to keep her emotions, to keep her inner rage under control. And in fact, Nesta is in deep depression. The core of depression is sadness, especially when this depression is combined with despondency, shame and hostility. And Nesta experiences each of these terrible feelings.

In the life of the whole family there have been global changes.

Firstly, the irreplaceable loss of a loved one – the unspeakable loss of the mother. For a person like Nesta, it was a real tragedy. A person needs to try to get through this and begin to live an ordinary life. They adapt quickly to hide their true feelings.

“My mother. Imperious and cold with her children, joyous and dazzling among the peerage who frequented our former estate, doting on my father—the one person whom she truly loved and respected. But she also had truly loved parties—so much so that she didn’t have time to do anything with me at all save contemplate how my budding abilities to sketch and paint might secure me a future husband. Had she lived long enough to see our wealth crumble, she would have been shattered by it—more so than my father. Perhaps it was a merciful thing that she died”.

It seems that right after the death of her mother Nesta had to build her inner walls to save and to protect herself in order to continue to live on, because most people after following shock and helplessness, have the strongest awareness of their profoundly personal rejection. Finally, there are accusations, disappointing attempts to escape from the realization of the guilt. These people are trying to shift responsibility for the loved one’s death onto anybody else. This person needs a "scapegoat". Nesta’s father became her own scapegoat. Nesta believes that her father is responsible for the death of her mother. Then she started having these irrational bursts of anger at him- she believed that he could save their mother, or he was the cause of the death of their mother and directed her rage toward him.

“I wanted to see if he would ever try to do it himself, instead of carving those bits of wood. If he would actually go out and fight for us. I couldn’t take care of us, not the way you did. I hated you for that. But I hated him more. I still do.”

“Does he know?”

“He’s always known I hate him, even before we became poor. He let Mother die—he had a fleet of ships at his disposal to sail across the world for a cure, or he could have hired men to go into Prythian and beg them for help. But he let her waste away.”

“He loved her—he grieved for her.” I didn’t know what the truth was—perhaps both.

“He let her die. You would have gone to the ends of the earth to save your High Lord.”

And that’s quite interesting, because here Feyre admits «I didn’t know what the truth was—perhaps both», so Nesta's true tragedy lies in the secret of her mother's death. What was happening in the family at that moment? Where was their father and what did he do when their mother was dying?

“Her cowardice, selfishness. The rage that had consumed her, so that she wanted them all to starve, just to see if their useless father would bother to save them. And then little Feyre had stepped in, and Nesta had hated her for it, too—that Feyre had done the unthinkable and kept them alive”.

In fact, such emotional walls that Nesta built up are a very well-known psychological state, and these “walls” protect people from painful feelings and thoughts. But they also cause the appearance of their changed forms of behavior. Thus, we can say that such emotional walls have their pros and cons.

In the case of searching for a "scapegoat", the feeling of anger does not disappear. This feeling is simply hidden. Anger remains with a person, deeply hidden, and exudes its poison. If this person spends the remaining days chasing scapegoats, then most of their life will be useless: they will experience constant bitterness, which will cripple their personality. In addition, such emotional walls prevent people from feeling the positive side of their existence: to get acquainted with new people, to enjoy life by itself.

One of the factors contributing to the growth of depression is rapid social change.

Nesta was not just from a wealthy family, she was almost a noblewoman, and the Archeron’s family had a real mansion. Feyre did not have time to get proper education, while older sisters had lessons of etiquette, music, and dance.

Surely Nesta already had her own idea and vision of her future, she repeatedly emphasizes the bad manners and lack of manners from other people, not only when they lived in the village among beggars, but also when she got to the Night Court. Nesta said that members of the Inner Circle knew nothing about real manners.

“Nesta had taken the loss of our fortune the hardest. She had quietly resented my father from the moment we’d fled our manor, even after that awful day one of the creditors had come to show just how displeased he was at the loss of his investment”.

“I looked at my sister, really looked at her, at this woman who couldn’t stomach the sycophants who now surrounded her, who had never spent a day in the forest but had gone into wolf territory … Who had shrouded the loss of our mother, then our downfall, in icy rage and bitterness, because the anger had been a lifeline, the cruelty a release. But she had cared—beneath it, she had cared, and perhaps loved more fiercely than I could comprehend, more deeply and loyally”.

It might sound strange, but when a person finds himself/herself in an unfamiliar environment for them - it's extremely difficult to get used to it. This is a real stressful situation. Of course, Nesta and Elain, in some ways, were born with silver spoons in their mouths - they had expensive clothes, shoes, they never thought about what it would take to think about food. For them it was not a problem, and in one day everything collapsed.

“I’d been too young to learn more than the basics of manners and reading and writing when our family had fallen into misfortune, and she’d never let me forget it”.

I have a friend, who has experienced great stress after the death of her father. In addition to the death of a loved one, she experienced severe changes in her life - she and her mother lost their fortune. And she admitted that she had never used public transport until she was thirteen or fourteen years old. I understand it may be difficult to believe something like this is possible, especially in the modern world, but everything happens. They always got everywhere by car. Conditions of life changed, something had to be sold, you need to say goodbye to your property. But when a person has never used public transport, and then suddenly it is necessary to get used to new conditions - it's really difficult. Everyone is nervous when they first come to the university or to a new job - this is a new and unfamiliar situation, new environment. So, partially, I understand Nesta, and what she had to endure. From a rich mansion to move to a collapsing house, to lose all property. Hunger, despair and destruction - all were in a state of the endless stress.

It is not excluded that the Archeron’s family spent their free time surrounded by other noble families, and when you lose your fortune, property, influence, money - you feel a sense of shame.

“As usual, Nesta was complaining about the villagers—they had no manners, they had no social graces, they had no idea just how shoddy the fabric of their clothes was, even though they pretended that it was as fine as silk or chiffon. Since we had lost our fortune, their former friends dutifully ignored them, so my sisters paraded about as though the young peasants of the town made up a second-rate social circle”.

“He could find work if he wasn’t so ashamed, Nesta always said when I hissed about it. She hated him for the injury, too—for not fighting back when that creditor and his thugs had burst into the cottage and smashed his knee again and again. Nesta and Elain had fled into the bedroom, barricading the door. I had stayed, begging and weeping through every scream of my father, every crunch of bone. I’d soiled myself—and then vomited right on the stones before the hearth. Only then did the men leave. We never saw them again”.

Angry creditors broke their father’s leg and never returned. To be honest, in real life it's difficult for me to imagine, so I have a feeling that Neste had to sell something or do something meaningful so that they would not return to their house anymore. Everyone knows that the collectors are seeking the return of any debts, they will not go until they get their money back.

Nesta is from a noble family, so she cannot bear Feyre's dirty clothes. It is possible that someone will find such words an insult to Feera, but for me Nesta feels unhappier with the fact that Feyre allowed herself to look like that. And she also disgusted with the whole situation in which they were, she did not like the fact that her sister had to go to the dense forest.

“You stink like a pig covered in its own filth. Can’t you at least try to pretend that you’re not an ignorant peasant?”

Nesta still considers herself and the rest of her family as the members of the nobility, so she is frightened by the very thought that her sister looks like a beggar.

She stepped back to run a finger over the braided coils of her gold-brown hair. “Take those disgusting clothes off.”

Everyone accuses Nesta of letting little girl go to the forest, but the real culprit was her father. Despite the fact that Nesta and Feyre are sisters, they are completely different. While Feyre is a survivor, Nesta is a fighter. Feyre wants to survive, so she goes to the forest for food, she was not forced to go to the forest - it was her way of survival, and Nesta is ready to die if it helped her father to get out of oblivion. There is another reason - neither Elaine nor Nesta would ever really have gone into the forest, at least because of the fear. Nesta chose the path of perdition in order to prove her point of view, and Feyre wanted to survive, and for this Nesta hated her.

Even in human life there are situations where people stood in fear. For example, to jump into a whirlpool, save a drowning person, or climb down the cliff, ready to extend a helping hand to those in need or in any other emergency, in which the chances of dying to save another person are very high - it's difficult. A person in ordinary life and a person who falls into a stressful situation are two completely different people and the reaction to stress is different for all of us. Someone can’t move, someone reacts with a hysteria, and someone in a state of affect does something that they would never have done in the ordinary state. Stress for them is a start for immediate action. All of these are psychological factors that need to be considered. We must admit that all people are completely different. If someone could cope with a difficult life situation, this does not mean that another person can go through a hard and thorny path with the same circumstances.

In addition, Nesta is actually looking for the Feyre’s company. Her younger sister does not understand this. Nesta does not act directly.

“How is my sister?”

So he merely said, “Busy.”

A flicker of her throat. “So busy she cannot deign to visit, it seems.”

Tomas Mandray

“Tomas Mandray?” I interrupted. “The woodcutter’s second son?”

“You can’t chop wood for us, but you want to marry a woodcutter’s son?”

Thomas is from a poor family. And for me this person in Nesta's life remains a real mystery. Why Nesta wanted to connect her life with him? What was the reason? If Thomas had money, then I would understand Nesta's decision to choose him as her future spouse. Nesta really could not help her family as Feyre did, but Nesta could get married and get some money from her husband to help her family. It is possible that Nesta hoped that her younger sister would stop going into the woods.

“Tomas had wanted to, and she … some part of her had known no future lay with him. Knew about his hateful father, and that he did nothing to prevent the man from beating his mother. She had barely let Tomas kiss her, and that day when she had ended it, he’d …”

She swallowed, shutting out the memory of what he’d said and done. The sound of her tearing dress. No—it hadn’t gone that far, but … The blind terror in those moments he’d tried, before she’d screamed and clawed her way free. And never told anyone”.

Nesta has never told anyone about Thomas, what he did. But it is also not easy to be a victim of violence - this is also a trauma that remains for the whole life. She was not raped, but traces of the sense of fear remain with person "blind terror in those moments". Some are ashamed of what happened, and do not want to share with someone, what happened, others have an inferiority complex. Sometimes there is a feeling that rape has placed a certain mark that distinguishes a person from others. Sometimes people are locked in themselves, not letting anyone into their inner world, not revealing their feelings and secrets. Mental trauma finds a way out in angry emotions. In psychology, there is such a phenomenon as "visible adaptation" - a person returns to the usual way of life, however depression, bouts of anxiety periodically arise.

Nesta went through a lot, and as a sensitive person, for her everything was much more complicated than for Feyre. She must take her bitter experience as something unchanging. This important moment relates to the desire to move forward and the realization that not everything is lost. Of course, throughout the whole life there can be flashbacks of memories, nightmares, but this is more of an exception.

“She didn’t know what to do with it, that rage. It still burned and hunted her, still made her want to rip and roar and rend the world into pieces. She felt it all—too keenly, too sharply. Hated and cared and loved and dreaded, more than other people, she sometimes thought. Could sift between them all in a matter of moments, like she was trying on different sets of clothes, and no one could tell or care”.

Nesta must let go of her emotions. Letting others see themselves as they are, and not be afraid to be rejected that is the real strength.

#nesta archeron #nesta #JusticeForNesta #cassian #nessian #acofas #acotar #acowar #acomaf #postacofas #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #sarah j maas

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