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winryofresembool · 2 years

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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 46

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: The aftermath of the "almost"

A/N: I hope you still remember this fic! I know it's been 2 whole months but first I got sick with c*vid (I'm fine now) and then I started working again, and it didn't help that I had to rewrite this ch many times because I didn't like how it ended up going. But now I finally managed to finish a version I'm somewhat content with. This chapter takes place a day after the previous one where things got heated between C&L but it didn't end quite like they probably hoped.

The usual: please do leave a comment if you like this fic, and enjoy this chapter!

Words: 2500+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

The next day, Calypso returned to the flat pretty soon after breakfast, leaving Leo with the Stoll brothers who were supposed to repaint Jo’s motorbike. Maybe she would have stuck around to see how that would go, but she still had a lot of studying to do, and she was also dreading the moment when Leo would address the events of the night before. There was no way he had believed her excuse; she had been so hasty.

Unfortunately, Calypso’s thoughts still kept going back to the previous day as she tried to study. She even set herself a timer that would allow her to take little breaks every 20 or so minutes but that wasn’t as effective as it usually was. She couldn’t help but wonder what had gone wrong; Leo had done and said all the right things and despite that she had frozen…

Finally, after several hours of attempting to study she decided she needed to get some exercise and called Annabeth to ask if she’d be willing to join her for a jog. She was, and as they were running across the streets of Indianapolis, Annabeth managed to help her out with the upcoming exams by info dumping her about things that she imagined were likely to be asked. Sometimes Calypso wondered why Annabeth was still taking the history classes when she knew more than most of their professors but when she brought that up, Annabeth just laughed and said it was good to revise even things she already knew.

“But I don’t think you actually asked me for a jog just so we could talk about exams,” she suddenly changed the subject. “Something’s troubling you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Calypso admitted, her eyes glued to the street ahead of them.

“Is this about Leo?” Annabeth inquired when she wouldn’t elaborate.

“Yes. You could say that…” she shrugged.

“Oh. What did he do?”

“Nothing!” Calypso said fast, but she knew it was unnecessary to try to hide anything from Annabeth. “We, uh, almost… got intimate last night, but before we got that far, I told him I’m on my period. That was a lie. I only said that to get out of that situation.”

Annabeth processed her words for a moment. “So you didn’t want to have sex with him?” she asked bluntly.

“No, I did, but…. ugh. It’s complicated.”

“What is?” Annabeth asked.

Calypso hesitated a bit. “Everything, I guess.”

Annabeth waited for her to continue.

“I… I think there are many reasons why I acted that way… You probably remember how I once told you that I didn’t exactly have great relationship experiences in my past.” Annabeth nodded at her and she got more confident. “They didn’t last long and in hindsight most of those guys were interested in me for the wrong reasons. But there was one guy…for whom I fell pretty hard.”

She took a small break to collect her thoughts.

“He was a little bit older than me and seemed like one of those guys you see in the superhero movies… Tall, handsome, strong… but he was also witty and he had visited my home country many times so that was something we bonded over. Eventually I told him I liked him and he told me he liked me back. And I believed him… he could be very convincing. We dated for a couple of months and things were going fine until… until I found out that he had had a girlfriend the whole time I had known him.” Calypso had almost said something else but she managed to stop herself. “He was even planning to move in with her in another town when the semester would end. You may be thinking, ‘but you were only 16 back then! That was a long time ago.’ Yeah, but I was actually in love with this guy, and I thought that we… Uh, anyway… All the sweet words and promises he had given me were for nothing. And I let him… I let him charm me into his bed...”

At this point Calypso had to stop because she was afraid if she said anymore she’d start crying again, which, she thought, she had done too much lately. She hadn’t given Annabeth the full version of the story but hopefully enough to avoid any questions that she wouldn’t be able to answer. Not when she hadn’t been able to tell anyone except her old maid what really had happened…

“So that’s why you said ‘no’ to Leo? Because you thought he might hurt you like this other guy?”

“I know I can trust him. But the scars are still deep… And I’m worried that if we took that step, it would make things even harder… if something were to happen to me.”

Annabeth seemed to understand what she meant. “You mean, if your father forced you to return to his home…”

“Yeah…” Calypso admitted.

Annabeth gave her an understanding look. “Oh, I see now. You know, I may not be Piper but I’ve still been in a relationship long enough to be able to tell you this much: talk about this with Leo. He won’t understand why you’re acting weird unless you explain it to him.”

Calypso had naturally thought about that option but she was worried about how Leo would react if he knew the whole truth.

“You’re right… but why does it have to be so hard?”

“Love is,” Annabeth sighed. “Believe it or not, even Percy and I have our rough moments, and we need to work a lot for our relationship. But in the end, it’s worth it.”

Even though it was a simple statement, something about Annabeth’s words struck Calypso. “It’s… worth it,” she repeated.

“Yeah. Look, I can’t predict what’s gonna happen between Percy and me several years from now on. Hopefully we’ll still be happily together. But the reality is that people change. Things happen. But that doesn’t mean I should stop enjoying what I have in my life right now.”

“Funny, I believe that’s what Leo once told me,” Calypso remembered. “Maybe you two are right; maybe I’m focusing too much on something that could or could not happen.”

“Maybe?” Annabeth raised her eyebrows.

“I mean, of course you are right,” Calypso replied partially sarcastically. “You always are. So your message to me is that I should try to forget about the past and the future for a moment and live in the now?”

“Basically, yes. You deserve some happiness, Calypso. And believe me, you’ll be happier if you forget about the ‘what ifs’ every once in a while,” Annabeth reassured her.

“Alright… I think I’ll try that harder from now on…” Calypso sighed.

“Good,” Annabeth nodded approvingly. After that she started explaining something about an interesting documentary she had seen on TV the other day, and Calypso was kind of grateful for the change of topic. Some other day she would probably have been listening to her rambling more intently but her mind was still processing the previous discussion so she just kept nodding along and giving brief responses when Annabeth seemed to be expecting them. Apparently she still managed to say the right things because Annabeth wasn’t noticing anything, or if she did, at least she was quiet about it.

…

Once outside her flat, she waved goodbye to her friend and then braced herself mentally for facing Leo, who most likely had returned from Waystation while she was away. Turned out she was right; when she entered the flat, he was in the living room, trying to frantically draw blueprints for a pretty complex looking invention. In one of his hands he was holding a hastily made sandwich. The other hand, the one holding a pencil, had already turned partially gray from the graphite. On the floor there were several wrinkled papers, and as if to complete the small chaos he had created, Calypso could hear a popular early 2000s rock song coming from Leo’s computer.

“Are you planning to rebuild our entire flat or what is this about?” she asked as she took the view in.

“Oh, hola, Sunshine.” He finally noticed her and raised his gaze from the papers. Even in his state of rush, a smile rose to his face when he looked at her. “Nah, I just decided to draw here because the lighting is better than in my room and I like the change of scenery.” Calypso was a little surprised that he was acting that cheerful considering the events of the previous evening. “You were out jogging?”

“Yeah. Annabeth gave me some good tips for our upcoming test while we were running,” she responded as neutrally as possible.

“You think she could help me too? Somehow I’m supposed to write at least 6 pages about my final project for the basic mechanics course for tomorrow… and I haven’t even started yet.” He tapped on the table with the pencil frustratedly.

“Ouch, poor you,” Calypso replied sarcastically. “Procrastinating Leo Valdez might be too much to tackle even for her.” Leo stuck his tongue out at her, and she couldn’t help but find that kind of cute in a goofy way. The banter almost made her forget about their issues for a moment. “So, how was your meeting with those Stoll boys? Did they show up?”

“They did,” he answered. “Not gonna lie, I was a bit surprised to see them but guess they didn’t want to anger you.” He gave her a small smirk. “They did a pretty good job with the painting. Though I noticed they tried to leave some words I’m not gonna repeat on the motorcycle but those got covered in the end. Jo and Emmie met them too and I think after that meeting those boys were definitely less eager to ruin other people’s motorcycles.”

“It would have been interesting to see that, for sure,” Calypso chuckled. Then she remembered: “So… did Georgina tell Jo and Emmie the news? About us?”

That made Leo grin even wider. “I told them before Georgie did. She was so disappointed because she really wanted to be the first to break the news. Jo and Emmie weren’t exactly surprised, though; they were more like: “What, you think we are blind? We’ve seen how you look at her like she’s the most amazing thing you have ever laid your eyes on.” He blushed a bit, turning his face back towards his blueprints in an attempt to hide it from her. Then he added more quietly: “Well… they’re not wrong…”

“Aw, that’s what you think of me?” Calypso asked. She felt even worse about having lied to him the night before.

Leo turned off the stove before approaching her, stopping right in front of her. Then he put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t know why you sound so surprised. I wouldn’t be dating you if I didn’t think you are amazing.”

“I… I really am not that amazing…” she mumbled.

Leo frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“I wasn’t being honest with you yesterday,” she finally confessed.

Leo’s frown deepened. “About what?”

“About my period. I’m not having it right now.” She shook her head sadly.

Calypso watched Leo’s expression go from confused to ‘oh’, and she felt even more guilty. She was expecting him to start accusing her, and to be fair, if he had, she wouldn’t have blamed him. However, he didn’t. Instead, he remained quiet for a while, staring at his papers blankly.

“I figured something was wrong, but.. why did you…”

“I just wasn’t ready.”

More silence.

“Cal…You know you can trust me, right?” Leo asked quietly, trying to keep his emotions in check even though she could tell he was struggling with it. His fingers were spinning the pencil fast, a sign he was nervous, and he couldn’t look directly at her. “I… I don’t mind it if we’re not having sex - I don’t! I’m at awe just because somehow you want to be my girlfriend even though I know I can be a lot to deal with at times. But if there’s something that bothers you, I wish you could tell me. You really think I would judge you after everything I’ve done? Nope, am afraid I can’t afford to do that.”

“Listen… Something, something very painful I had tried hard to forget came back to me and… I couldn’t… Maybe I thought I was already over it but turns out I was wrong. I know we promised each other to not keep secrets anymore but I realized I have not reached the point where I would be comfortable enough sharing it yet.”

“But… you told me about your sister… Is this something even worse?” Leo asked worriedly.

“All I can say is that it’s somehow related to it… But please, don’t ask me more questions. I will tell you when I’m ready. Okay?”

“Okay…” Leo responded to Calypso’s relief. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he managed to bite his tongue, a rare feat for him.

“Thank you. Know that I don’t want to keep this from you…”

“Yeah, I get it. You need time.”

Leo seemed to have learned some self control since the fall because back then he had had a much more difficult time accepting that Calypso wasn’t telling him everything. Sure, he didn’t seem entirely happy with the situation, but at least he wasn’t making a big number of it, for which Calypso was grateful.

“Yeah.”

“So… does this change anything? Between us?” he asked finally.

“I still feel the same way about you if that’s what you’re wondering, but…” Calypso stopped to consider her next words.

“Oh no. The but. That’s never good.”

“... but maybe we should spend time together a little less intensively. For a little while, at least. The midterms are coming, too, so I should really spend more time studying.”

Leo’s face fell.

“Yeah… I should do some studying too…”

“That’s a line I didn’t think I’d hear,” she tried to lighten the mood.

He seemed to have decided to follow her suit because he responded (a little too) lightly: “Sunshine, Sunshine. The world of science is enormous; even I still have a lot of things to learn. My ADHD may give me some super powers but unfortunately swallowing info from books without reading them isn’t one of them.”

“And here I thought it was,” she replied before getting more serious. “So… I should probably take a shower and continue reading after that… Too many pages left and one of my tests is already tomorrow…”

“I thought procrastination was only for my kind of people,” Leo noted. “Well… guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

When Calypso made eye contact with him before leaving, she noticed that there was still sadness and maybe even worry in his eyes. She wished she could have said something to make the situation better but she couldn’t come up with anything, so she just gave him a small nod before disappearing into the bathroom.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #my fics #caleo uni au

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ota-division · 1 year

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Chinami's Thoughts on Kyoto Division

Lana Alarie

Chinami puts her hands on the crystal ball she uses for scrying before speaking the name of the Kyoto Division's leader.

"Lana Alarie."

Within moments, a series of images appear on her crystal ball. It shows a young Lana with a man resembling her father, though his features are obscured. A young girl appears beside Lana with similar features. Her sister, maybe? ...Yes, that is her. The two have a close sibling relationship, as they only have each other to rely on.

Fast forward a few years, Chuohku has risen in power. The father is nowhere to be found, and an older woman resembling Lana assumes control of the household, treating its inhabitants as little more than tools and nuisances. The scene changes to show Lana bloodied while standing protectively in front of her sibling. She is pushed aside, and struggles in vain to stay awake, her hand reaching out to her young sibling.

The scene changes once more, now showing Lana in her current state. She has a smile on her face, yet it is full of pain. The memories of the past still weigh heavily on her. She finds herself at a crossroads, one leading towards a future where she tries to forget the past, and one leading to revenge against the person(s) who have caused her and her sibling so much pain. Which road will she choose?

Itsuki Kamiko

"Itsuki Kamiko."

The crystal ball glows until it shows an image of a young bespectacled shy young boy. He is seen standing beside an older girl, a few years ahead of him. They are both staring with sadness and anger at an older woman sitting on a chair, a bottle of pills at her feet, laid out on the floor. The scene changes showing the older girl pointing a knife at the woman, all while the boy stares on in horror and shock.

The scene in the ball changes showing the boy a little older, now living with other kids that are older, younger, and around the same age as him. He is shown on the ground while a group of boys and an older girl laugh at him. He struggles to hold back his tears. The scene changes again showing the bespectacled child in a closet, panicking as he is beating on the door, all while the children on the outside continue to laugh at him. He is eventually rescued but is obviously shaken.

Now at his current age, the boy is now a young man and is standing alongside Lana and her sister. He is seated with a woman of whom he is close with. ...A girlfriend? Yes, that is it. Still, a part of him still fears being out in the open. Are people looking at him? Staring at him? Watching, waiting for him to make a mistake?

He stands before a door, similar to the one of his own house. He could take the leap and see open it to see what lies beyond it. But surely staying inside is the safer, more sane route, correct? Yes, it is. But... can a life where one lives every day in fear truly be called a life?

Kanade Alarie

"Kanade Alarie."

Once more, the crystal ball shift and changes. It shows a young girl in a hospital bed being treated for a number of unexplained injuries. Her older sibling, Lana, sits beside her bedside, watching her with tear-filled eyes as she blames herself for being unable to protect her. Lana touches her sister's hand, looking at her as she sleeps, promising to always protect her no matter what.

The scene changes to show the girl a lot older and is now a teenager, performing in various venues in Kyoto and Japan. She has gathered a multitude of friends and acquaintances and has finally discovered a semblance of peace. Yet, in the deepest, darkest part of her mind, she still holds onto a slight fear. A fear that she will no longer have her older sibling or her friends to shield her from the dangers that the outside world holds.

She finds herself standing in front of a road that leads to impending darkness. Behind her is the light provided by the people who love and care for her. She could retreat to the light, and stay safe there for an elongated period of time. But... how will she learn to stand on her two feet if she doesn't face unknown challenges alone?

Starlight Specters

As she finishes observing the three members of the Kyoto team, more images of each of their lives start to show in the crystal ball. Lana and an unknown woman as friends. Itsuki sitting in front of a doctor who takes notes. Kanade cowering in fear of a shadow looming over her. Itsuki rescuing the two girls from a house in the shadows. The three competing in various matches throughout the D.R.B.

Will the light of Kyoto continue to shine on these friendly phantoms? Or will the darkness finally claim them as its own, and send them to their final beyond? We shall have to wait and see...

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic oc #chinami chinen #ota division #birds of prey #kyoto division #starlight specters #lana alarie #itsuki kamiko #kanade alarie

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sevencfswcrds · 2 years

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@cursedbcrn asked: REFLECT + the first time caine learned about patrina || CAINE || Ask my muses about their memories || ACCEPTING FOR FOREVER, ACTUALLY! ||

“... So that’s sort of the thing, isn’t it? It’s that- in a sort of, um, knowledge-way, I guess, I’ve always known about Patrina. All duskwitches do- she’s a ghost story. Like the duskwitch boogeyman- the duskwitch who turned on her people, men, women, neither or both, children. Quite genuinely, I heard ghost stories and scary stories about her from- when I was very little.” They don’t really remember the stories anymore, but- well. Patrina is the boogeyman. Patrina is the big bad wolf, used to scare little kids to behave, to remind them not to sway to the darkest of magics, to that which is used purely for sadistic greed.

Funny, to grow up on those stories, and then have the reality smack them in the face. “So- well, like little kids do, I had nightmares about her, but when I was... A little bigger, a little older, the dreams changed. They were still about Patrina- but now I was Patrina. My point of view, my eyes, you know? My hands doing the terrible things.” A slow, shaking breath and Caine closes their eyes.

“The first one was the worst for a long time, I think. She used- cold fire, burned down a house with... Someone inside. Turned to the vampire, the one she loved, and she was so pleased, and I felt her joy and her- cruelty, alongside my horror. My fear. She listened to the screaming and reveled, and I listened and all I wanted to do was- help, or shut it out. Anything but keep listening.” Caine’s lips twist and they grimace a little. Even now the memory- their heart feels like it’s pounding out of their chest, and they lay a palm over that racing organ, trying to settle.

“Of course that was nothing compared to watching her destroy the village and then- experiencing her curse and her death through her eyes. But that was a lot later.” The duskwitch swallows. “And up until- that one, honestly I just.. I thought it was like a dream where I was making it up. My mind filling in the blanks of the stories that I’d been told. But this one- I told Camlo.” There’s a quiet, helpless laugh, and Caine hangs their head- hiding.

“I told Camlo, and he wasn’t- he wasn’t even surprised. And he gave me a journal, and he told me everything. And then- A month later, I was on my own. Gods I was so scared. I think I shut down for- almost a year, really. That period of time’s a blur. But I- decided that I’d fight it. It was why Camlo kept us moving so long, I know, and why when the dreams got to that point- we crossed an ocean, and then he left me... Here. Maybe because he was afraid of Patrina- maybe because he was afraid of being tracked down by... Well, you know, who.” Even now, it feels like a curse, to say the name of the vampire.

The Mikaelsons aren’t the big bad wolves, to the duskwitches. Not even close.

“... It was a lot. It was very much a lot, and I still don’t really know what I’m doing, other than that- every day I’m alive, Patrina isn’t. Every day I’m the awake one, Patrina isn’t. And I want to keep it that way.”

#cursedbcrn #[ caine verse: cursedbcrn ] fighting till the end like i promised you this could be the day i die for you #[ caine lore ] someone crying in the dead of the night was it me or was it just in my mind #[ caine headcanon ] i want to be the king of my body and mind #[ caine valikovna doe ] this heart keeps beating to somebody before #[ answered asks ] now we see what we're gonna regret #[ lmao caine is so desperately Not Okay ]

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palepinkycat · 3 years

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Oohhh so many cool options and so many cool ocs. It's a game in itself to even choose hahaha. So, Rhuno 🕍 in Victorian attire and/or Lothra �� as a fairy? Whichever you like the most, or both if you have time left! (~Dina)

Here's Lothra as a fairy and here's Rhuno (and Leontyne because ✨ power couple ✨ besides, both dresses are definitely hers) in Victorian attire ~

*click for better quality*

*La Follia slowly playing in the background* uwu

#swtor #sith pureblood #leontyne saresh #twi'lek #star wars art #swtor art #swtor oc #thank you for the ask!!! <3 #rhuno's always wanted to be a princess and wear dresses like that and then she started working for leontyne #never again 🙃#she's changed and learned a lot but it still was one of the darkest periods in her life #my girl she's no longer that little Spark *cries* mira and xander would be so proud #oc:rhuno

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uramichislefttiddie · 3 years

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Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan Angst Hc’s

||Contains: Uramichi Omota, Iketeru Daga, Tobikichi Usahara, Mitsuo Kumatani||

||Warnings: Angst, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, Abuse, Drug Abuse||

Reminder! If your uncomfortable with mentions of suicide, self harm, drug abuse, abuse etc please don’t continue reading on for your own safety/health (: If your struggling with mental health please reach out to someone! I’m always here if anyone needs to just rant to someone, I’m all ears!

THESE ARE NOT CANNON!

Uramichi Omota

He’s had many periods of time in life where he was very close to be doing with life completely, memories re emerging from his childhood, ones like where his father would verbally and physically abuse him for something very minor, especially during practise, Uramichi can still see some scars that’s been left on his body however over the years they have become faint which have slowly helped him. He no longer has contact with his dad however his elderly neighbour he does see as a father figure to him, the one he never had but always dreamt of having, his neighbour knows this too and does his best for Uramichi by being that someome that supports him no matter what even when he does things wrong, the one who teachers him simple things but them simple things are what truly means a lot of Uramichi. The first time his neighbour saw him was when he was coming back home from work, eyes stained red and head hung low, no hope nearby. He remembers clearly his neighbour coming round to his house that day with freshly baked pickled mackerel and eating with him, it may not have seemed much but to Uramichi he couldn’t be more thankful he finally had someone he could talk to and get everything out without being judged or be seen as weak compared to everyone else. On Uramichis free days he takes his neighbour to places that he’s always wanted to see before he dies and they both just spend the day with each other’s company, and that’s all either of them need, making the best memories.

Iketeru Daga

Throughout his whole childhood his parents were always too busy with work not having time to spend with him and his sister, or that’s what he thought, in reality they were staying at casinos wasting money, the money that should’ve been used on the siblings for basic care, every night they’d be back early hours in the morning, drunk and high, always ignoring their two children leaving them to get on with their lives. Iketeru had to learn a lot of things at such a young age because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to survive in the real world. As soon as both him and his sister were able to move out they both looked for a place of their own to which they now reside at, neither of them talk about their childhood though anymore not wanting to re live the neglect they were put through, not receiving the things like other children, like hugs and kisses before sleep. Instead they both got shouted at endlessly and told they were a waste of space and accidents. Now In his adult hood sometimes Iketeru’s behaviour can be seen as childish and this probably comes from the fact he never really had a childhood and doesn’t know different, he hardly remembers his childhood however with his sister it’s opposite she remembers everything but she’s vowed to never tell Iketeru everything just wanting him to live the rest of his life as best as possible no matter how he chooses to act, but there’s been endless nights where she’s cried herself to sleep knowing Iketeru doesn’t truly know what used to happen to him and yet anyone would think he had the perfect life.

Tobikichi Usahara

His mother, the one who cared for him even when times got rough, the one protected him with everything she had, the one who taught him from right to wrongs, the one that loved him the most and would do anything for him. He always had been more of a mother’s boy than fathers boy, it was just the way it had always been. Imagine that one fateful day where Tobikichis phone clashed to the ground, tears cascading down his face upon hearing the news he never wished to have heard anytime soon or ever. He ran out of the gyms doors making his way to the infirmary leaving everyone with surprised faces from the sudden outburst, there she led the one women that stayed by his side since day one, the one who was normally full of joy was now weak, in a fragile state barely able to speak full sentences. Tobikichi ran as fast as he could going to hug his mum from sheer fright and shock, they said she was getting better? So why was she here in intensive care fighting for her life? He remembers that night clear as day, being told at such a young age your own mother has little chance of making it through the night. Imagine waking up the next minute with a hand still in yours but this time cold to the touch. He never thought this day would be so soon, he never even got to do the rest of her bucket list with her. Sometimes he’s late to work and the reason being is he brings flowers to her grave where he tells her how much he misses her touch and voice and what’s been going on lately, luckily no one questions why he is always mostly late. Despite as much as Uramichi may get annoyed with him, Uramichi was one of the closest people to Tobikichi during this time period in his life with his mother dying and more, he was always there for him no matter what. Only that secret was kept between the two and he couldn’t thank him more than enough for what he had done for him.

Mitsuo Kumatani

During his teenage years, Mitsuo had been diagnosed with depression, causing life to drain from him and endless pain everyday, it had gotten to the point he was close to ending it all, hands trembling with pills of all different kinds that even him, himself had no idea of what they were. However he had felt a weight on his lap and there laid his dog looking up at him almost begging him to not go through with this plan and to keep on living his life. That night he never ended up taking them and instead endured more days of insufferable pain. Shortly soon he had became addicted to alcohol the only relief he could consume from this endless nightmare, every night he was there in his usual spot, leaning against the balcony liquor in one hand and a cigarette in another staring off into the distance waiting for something new to come his way. His eyes told a millions stories, even the darkest ones that had been crammed into the depths. Each day he was sinking more and more into despair now not caring what happens, until one night in the bar had changed the rest of his life, there he had met Tobikichi, Iketeru and Uramichi who never gave up on him, going every single step with him to recovery, vowing to fight this endless nightmare that had been growing with Mitsuo every day. After years and months of hard work he finally quit smoking and was now taking the needed medication, Mitsuo was now someone who was unrecognisable, he had regained his life, living it to its fullest. He couldn’t be more than thankful for that one night that ended up changing his whole life.

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

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4 AM {Cedric Diggory x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3665 Summary: You’re a transfer student at Hogwarts, and all of these changes are feeling restless. You develop a late-night hobby, but a handsome Hufflepuff catches on.

Everybody needed a bit of time to adjust to new surroundings, like a new school. You took a bit of extra time, considering you were in a new continent, a new culture, a new school and a new house on top of all of it. Transferring from Ilvermorny was a tough thing to do, but you did it at the insistence of your parents, who felt that being at Hogwarts under Albus Dumbledore was far better than your old situation. Much safer, they had put it, despite the Chamber of Secrets and Quirrel and Sirius Black. But hey - safety right? At least there was the opportunity to meet new people, something that you liked doing. And maybe you could pick up a cool British accent while you’re over here. They always sounded so sophisticated, while your American accent was just ... American.

You had been sorted privately into the Slytherin house, which sounded well and good until you reached the common room. It was a bit dreary, you thought. Too much leather on these couches, not enough comfortable fabrics. You became too nervous to sit down in case the seats would squeak and make people think that you had farted. The other Slytherins weren’t the most welcoming, and they didn’t give you a hand as you brought your bags up the staircase to your dormitory. You had to use magic to get them there. The most that you had been given were a couple of side glances. This wasn’t going to be as easy as you had hoped.

On your first night, you had a lot of trouble sleeping. Tossing and turning in the old fashioned four-poster bed. In America, waterbeds were in fashion and you had gotten used to the rolling feeling rather than the roughness of a mattress. It was a good thing that you brought a couple of pepper-up potions to take in the morning just in case this exact thing were to happen.

You had carefully chosen your classes for your sixth year. You planned on doing big things with your life after you had graduated, even if you weren’t sure exactly yet what these things were. You took many of the basics, Potions, DADA, Charms, Transfigurations, etc, but also some things like Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. You didn’t plan on living among muggles, especially, but you loved the way that they did things. They found inventive ways to work around magic, and you always felt more accomplished when you did things in the muggle way. Especially your secret passion - baking.

A lot of your classes happened to be with the Hufflepuff house, who were a bit wary of you at first, but then became genuinely friendly, and much more welcoming than your own house. Despite the differences, you started to hang out with them more than the Slytherins, which didn’t make dorm life particularly comfortable at times. You still found it hard to sleep in there, and had taken to some night time wandering.

It might be the deviousness of the Slytherin house in you, but you figured out some ways to work around the patrols. If you didn’t leave the castle, you didn’t run the risk of running into Dementors. If you stayed in one place, such as a classroom or the kitchens, you were less likely to get caught by the prefects wandering the halls. You were also able to overhear Cedric Diggory, a handsome boy in your year, tell some fifth year prefects the better ways to go, so you now knew how to avoid them as well.

The kitchens were where you usually ended up going. In Muggle Studies at your old school, you learned a lot about how they baked and they cooked without magic. It wasn’t instant, the way that magic was. You buy a roast, you do a cooking spell, and boom - perfectly cooked beef every time. There were spells to whip the potatoes into the perfect peaks, spells to make icing the perfect consistency for cupcakes, even spells for chopping vegetables if you were feeling lazy. The House Elves in these kitchens didn’t use these spells, they did things more by hand, and it was fascinating to watch. You started coming in on these restless nights as they were making bread for the morning’s toast, and one elf in particular was eager to show you how she did it.

“Then you kneed it like this!” She said in a high-pitched voice, showing you with her bony hands. She moved over so that you could give it a try. The dough was surprisingly warm, and pliable beneath your own fingers. You couldn’t help but smile as the feeling of it filled you with warmth. You could see why muggle bakers woke up as early as four in the morning to do all of this. The smells of the baking loaves wafted over to you and you took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. You could spend all day in here, you decided. The only thing that was keeping you from doing so were your classes.

‘Why were you sneaking around last night?’

The note landed on your textbook as you were reading quietly in Transfiguration class. You hid it quickly beneath the book, looking around to try to see who sent it. Your eyes landed on Cedric, who was looking at you equally as closely. You turned away quickly, flushing. You didn’t think that anyone had seen you sneaking away from the kitchens this morning, going back to the dormitory before anyone else woke up. You had been certain that you were careful.

When McGonagall was seated at her desk, you took the note out and wrote back.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

As you signed the period, the note slipped away from under your quill, fell to the floor, whooshed it’s way to Cedric, seemed to climb up his desk and land on his own textbook. Seemed a little silly, you thought. You could have just handed it to him when the Professor was turned around instead of wasting a spell on it. You thought that the conversation was over and dealt with, when the note came right back to you again.

‘I saw you this morning, near my common room. What have you been up to?’

You scrunched your eyebrows and pursed your lips. There was a murderer on the loose, you knew that, hence the extra security measures but - did anyone really suspect you of having something to do with that? You hadn’t even heard of Sirius Black until you went to Diagon Alley for school supplies!

Rather than write anything back, you underlined the sentence that you had written before. The note didn’t seem happy with that, since it didn’t immediately rush back to Cedric. So you folded up the parchment, waited until an opportune moment, then tossed it over at Cedric. He was apparently not expecting that, because it bounced off his head and onto the floor. There were a few sniggers from other students, which caught McGonagall’s attention. Before she could see the note, Cedric had pressed his shoe over the top of it. She sniffled, then went back to reading, expecting the rest of the class to do the same.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he slid the note towards himself. When he finally read it, he glared at you, which made you feel uncomfortable. You weren’t ready to give up your baking secret, or even to admit you were breaking the rules for it was forbidden for a student to be out of bed after hours. But still - he couldn’t really suspect you of harboring a killer - could he?

You had taken a break from going to the kitchens at night, as much as it hurt you to do so. Now that you knew that the Hufflepuff Common Room was close to the kitchens, it felt too dangerous to do it. Especially with Cedric Diggory on the watch for you. You’d noticed him looking at you from time to time, during meals or class times. It felt less suspicious than your note passing in class, and more like - studying.

After a week had passed though, you couldn’t wait any longer. The house elf that you had befriended had told you that you could help her make cakes for dessert! Now that was something that you were interested in, since you thought maybe you’ve mastered bread. Waiting until the others in your dorm were sleeping, you slipped on your darkest robe and left the common room, making for some of the lesser-used stairs to get up to the kitchens. You would still have to pass the Hufflepuff portrait, though, there was no avoiding that. You stuck to the shadows as much as you could, and stopped often, looking behind you for a sign of prefects. The coast seemed clear.

You tickled the pear in the portrait, which giggled at being touched, then opened up to reveal the busy kitchens, getting ready for the morning ahead. Your friend, a house elf that barely reached your waist and was named Daisy, waved at you from by the massive fireplace which heated soups and stews for the whole castle. You started heading towards her when a hand wrapped gently around your wrist, keeping you in place. You figured out who it was before you even turned around.

“Cedric Diggory,” You groaned, turning around. His amber colored eyes took in the sight of you, dressed in your pajamas with a dark robe covering your body. You were planning to take it off and put on one of the aprons, but he hadn’t given you the time to do that yet. “Are you stalking me?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions. What are you doing in here?” He asked, looking around the kitchens now as if he had just realized what he had walked into. A house elf whistled happily as it walked by with a big baking pan, three loaves on it nearly tottering off. But he never lost his balance. “Why are we in the kitchens?”

“I know why I’m in the kitchens,” You said, pushing his hand off of your arm. You turned around to head over to Daisy. “As for you, I don’t know. I still think you’re stalking me.”

“A Slytherin who sneaks out after hours isn’t up to any good,” He said. You rolled your eyes at the stereotype - it was getting old already.

“Technically, I’m a Thunderbird, that will be always be my home house,” You explained, still feeling much more American than you were European. “So none of that evil snake business, thank you, badger.”

You walked towards your friend, smiling so as not to show that anything was wrong. House-elves could sometimes worry too much for their own good, and it could affect their work. You did not want Cedric’s following of you to cause an innocent student some food poisoning. You took her offered apron, and switched out your robes for it, folding down the front nicely. The Hufflepuff boy had hesitantly followed. He might not have trusted you, but he had faith in the house-elves that they wouldn’t do anything bad.

“So what are we doing today, Daisy?” You asked happily, approaching her counter. She was a cute little thing, dressed in a bright yellow smock with an apron over top.

“We are making cakes!” She said, clapping with excitement. It had taken you a little while to get used to her high-pitched voice, especially when she sang, which she often did while working. “Vanilla and strawberry because it’s almost Spring!”

She set you to work mixing ingredients while she measured them. You could see Cedric hovering out of the corner of your eye, unsure of what to make of all this. “Oh come on,” You said finally, not being able to take it any longer. The batter that you were working on was enough to make perhaps three cakes, but there would have to be much more than that before the day is through. “You can help with this, you know. Or are you scared of getting a little dirty?”

You put your fingers in flour and flicked some at him. It landed on his pajama shirt. He tried to wipe it off but it just made a white smear, which made you giggle. “I guess I might as well,” He said, finally letting his guard down. Daisy found him another apron, and set him about working on his own bowl of cake mix.

“No, no,” You said, seeing how fast he was mixing. It had even alarmed Daisy, who wouldn’t dare say anything bad about it. You could just gauge by how big her eyes got. “Slowly - you fold in the eggs, you don’t just ... make it go wild like that. We want a fluffier texture. There’s such a thing as over mixing, isn’t there Daisy?”

“That’s right!” She squeaked.

Cedric conceded. He went a little slower this time, taking your direction rather well. You added in the last bits of vanilla to the mix, then helped to measure them into the pans that Daisy had taken away to put into the oven. “What now?” He asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

“We do it again - unless you’re wanting to go and get a bit more sleep,” You shrugged. “Though that means you’re going to miss the best part.”

“And what’s that?” He asked, raising one of his bushy eyebrows. He didn’t have suspicion in his eyes anymore. In fact, you might almost say it looked like he was having fun.

“The decorating! Fresh strawberries, whipped cream, enough icing to send me into a sugar coma. Oh, it’s Heaven. I’ve been waiting for this day for weeks now.” You said, your mouth nearly watering as you thought about all of the treats that you were going to make. “And then, after dinner tonight, we’ll be at our tables and voila! Cakes! And nobody knows we helped to make them which makes it feel sneaky.”

“Knew there would be a catch,” Cedric said, picking up another mixing bowl since the other one had been taken away for cleaning. “I knew you were heading out at night for some reason. I just didn’t expect it to be this.”

“Oh, so just because I’m Slytherin, you think that I was up to no good?” You asked, feeling offended by his assumptions. You picked up a new mixing bowl as well, and a clean spoon.

“Well...” Cedric said, rubbing the back of his neck. You were both in an awkward waiting position until Daisy came back to measure ingredients once more. “How was I to know it would be this?”

“You could have asked rather than accusing me by note,” You shrugged, spinning the spoon around in your hands. You could smell some of the other bakers beginning to prepare the whipped icing that would be going on the cake. It was beginning to make your mouth water. They might as well be working with ambrosia, the food of the gods.

The little house elf did come running with her measuring cups to weight out ingredients and you were finally able to get back to work. Surprisingly, Cedric stayed. He stayed as the cakes were brought out of the oven and put to freeze to make them easier to ice. He stayed as you struggled with a piping bag, and ended up with frosting all over your apron.

“Stop laughing,” You said, as you saw that he was chuckling. He turned away but you could still feel his shoulders move. You glared at him, wiped a glob off your apron and onto your finger, then flicked it right at the back of his neck. That made him stop real quick. He turned back to look at you and you gave him your widest grin. “Oops.”

“No food fights, please!” Daisy wheezed, which put an end to whatever Cedric was thinking about. He wiped it off, onto his apron, then chuckled again.

“Yeah, no food fights,” He repeated to you, as if you were the one getting the scolding. You rolled your eyes, then went back to trying to get the piping bag right. You managed, without exploding it this time, and wasting the precious icing. Still though, you took little dallops of it off your apron and stuck it into your mouth, savoring the flavor.

“Has there ever been a food fight at Hogwarts?” You wondered allowed, stepping back to admire your handiwork. You could imagine one happening in the Great Hall, given how much food was in there on a constant basis. Cedric looked a little surprise that you were asking him in such a pleasant tone rather than the snippiness that you had been passing back and forth.

“A couple of years ago,” Cedric said, smiling as he thought about it. “You know the Weasley twins, from the Gryffindor Quidditch team? They started one in their first year. Now there’s a spell on the tables where it can’t happen anymore.”

“I hope Dumbledore forgets one year. Because now, I gotta start one.” You said, thinking that you had to talk to these twins about how they did it. And maybe a Ravenclaw for counter-spells.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Cedric said, winking at you over his own creation. His was a lot messier than yours, but it would hopefully taste good, that’s what was important. “Strawberries?”

“Strawberries,” You affirmed. A house elf came over with a basket of the fresh fruit, just washed and shiny. You go to work with a knife now, which seemed a little dangerous. As you took it up to cut the leaves off, you looked over at Cedric. He already had the knife in hand and was chopping surprisingly well. He seemed to have some talent other than Quidditch and a winning smile. And - best of all, he seemed to trust that you weren’t going to attack with him the knife. Pretty big deal for a Slytherin.

When the cakes that you were making were finished, you took off the apron and stiffled a yawn. In the time that it had taken you and Cedric to make three a piece, house elves had finished a couple dozen. Yours and his weren’t as picture perfect as the others, but you were happy with your work nonetheless. “Alright, well, g’night...” You said, stretching as you went into the hallway. You could faintly see the sun beginning to rise through the window, the sky no longer black but a lighter shade of navy.

“This was fun,” Cedric admitted, turning to look at you, flour staining the front of his once-perfect robes where the apron didn’t cover. “You do this every night?”

“It’s usually just bread that I make,” You admitted. “The cake was much more fun than that. But bread is really cool, the way that it’s made with just the simplest things. I think I want to become a baker after graduating, but who knows...” You shrugged. The world was still a dark place. But surely that meant that there was going to be more of a need for baked goods to lighten the load and make people feel a little better.

“You’re great at it,” Cedric complimented. Well, that was a nice touch. The Golden boy of Hufflepuff was giving you a compliment, and making you feel a bit of the honeyglow.

“Thanks.” You said. You took a couple of steps down the hallway which would lead you to the stairs down towards the dungeons, but you stopped, turning around. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“No,” Cedric said, after taking a couple of seconds to think. “I might join you again sometime, though.”

“Well that’s fine then,” You said with a smile. “Goodnight, Cedric.”

“Good morning, y/n,” Cedric said, running his fingers through his hair once more, before turning himself to go to his own dormitory. You laughed as you watched him go, then hurried yourself along to get ready for the day.

At dessert the next night, you were surprised to see not one of the picture perfect cakes that the elves had made, but rather one of the haphazard ones that was definitely Cedric’s. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you saw the uneven strawberries and the frosting dripping over the sides. The Slytherin girl next to you commented on how it looked ‘like a child had made it’ and got up to go down the table to one of the nicer looking cakes.

You eagerly took a piece. The cake itself was perfection, it was just the uneven frosting that made it look a little wonky. As you cut into it, you looked over to the Hufflepuff table to catch eyes with the baker himself. He had one of your cakes in front of him, and had loaded two pieces onto his plate. He gave you his heart-melting smile and you returned the sentiment. You stabbed a piece of the cake onto your fork and held it up as if in cheers. He did the same.

It wasn’t the same as eating with him exactly, but it was nice nonetheless. You had become restless during the nights because of how homesick you were, and you found something which could become a life-long love. And, well, you really didn’t mind that Cedric was along for the ride.

#Cedric Diggory x reader #Cedric Diggory #Cedric Diggory oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #oneshot #one shot #cedricd #request #x reader

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starcloud-nova · 3 years

Note

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload Okay, let’s talk HeroCon.

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

#bnha #bnha fic #fic rec #fic rec list #fic rec masterpost #nova talks #all my friends in one post. sniffle #most of em anyway #not sure what to tag this so. ill hit send!#forgot too tag this as an ask rip #anonymous #ask

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not-poignant · 3 years

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hello! *peruses unasked flower asks* ummm, if you could give me a Canna, Cock’s Comb ehheeh, Common Boneset, Norwegian Angelica and Rosemallows please! :)

(Okay I love that little eheh at cock's comb tho)

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?

I do! A giant 'RESIST' in capital letters down the inside of my right wrist, that I actually got long before any actual 'resist' movements over the past few years. I got it around my 21st birthday (actually like a year later) mostly to mark all the things that I'd already survived at that point, and how much of my life philosophy is based off a position of resistance - resisting wanting to kill myself, resisting the darkest paths, resisting my own body when it grows tumours, and so on.

As it's aged, its lost some of it's sharp corners and stuff, but I still like it, though I mostly forget its there now. I'd like to get more tattoos at some point, but money is a big barrier, they're not cheap! (Which is good, because hopefully it means tattoo artists are being paid well).

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

I don't really know. I use Times New Roman the most while writing (I know, I know), so I guess that's my favourite because I'm voluntarily staring at it for hours and hours every single day. I hate Calibri and often have to force-change documents to another font to be able to edit them, if they come to me in that font. But I also used to write in Calibri, until I had the revelation that I hated writing in Calibri, lmao.

When I was a teenager, and had far less fonts to choose from, I was a passionate fan of Courier New and that's still my favourite font to set poetry in, which I think is an 'old habits die rather hard' thing, lmao.

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

I'm looking forward to thunderstorms, whenever they next come.

I'm looking forward to going down south with my mother, though I'm apprehensive about it too, and hope it goes well. I expect it will be exhausting, and an experience, and worthwhile. That's the end of July.

I'm looking forward to a week to myself and I'm not sure when I'll get one.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow (at least right now).

I'm looking forward to the next time we go to Kumo and have more of those Japanese souffle pancakes because souffle pancakes.

I'm looking forward to going to bed tonight.

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

I've always had...an interesting relationship with my mother. Though it's very good now. But there are lots of long stories I'm going to cut short here and say that around 11 or 12 years ago I was fed up, and sent Mum a lengthy email (because I couldn't trust I'd be able to speak clearly in person without breaking down and crying) saying that if she didn't get on board with acknowledging the PTSD and where it came from, and didn't confront her own demons in that, I was going to walk away from her and our relationship for good, and I already had my estranged relationship with my father to prove that I wasn't bluffing.

In retrospect, this probably sounds like an incredibly cruel thing to do, but I can't describe to you the years before that, my childhood, the things that led to me making this decision. Only that when I made it, I didn't know what else to do.

But then the most amazing thing happened, and unlike about anyone else in my family at the time, Mum got therapy, and she got help, and she faced her demons, and she decided that she was going to learn about her child instead of doing what she'd been doing in the past. And from there we grew a real relationship. And quite a few years ago now, we started catching up once a week, every (usually) Friday morning.

She's one of my best friends now, I love her to pieces, her bravery and courage in being willing to face up to some hard truths (including - among others - that my father and her husband was abusive), as well as her sheer strength recently going through breast cancer with such humour and grace only a short period after I went through my own cancer journey, like, she's such a role model to me.

I could never have expected that. I loved my Mum growing up, but I never felt like she knew or saw me as a person, which I don't actually blame her for, she sure was Going Through It herself, in a way that I could not appreciate fully as a child, because she protected us from those realities that she experienced and suffered through as best as she could. And now I think she really does try, as I try to meet her where she is in turn. And we see each other as people, not as family roles, and that to me...has an ineffable, lovely quality. Which is, incidentally, why I'm taking her down south for her birthday, so we can spend even more time together.

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

I don't know that I have one. Oh wait, I think...I do, so let's just preface this first though.

The problem I have here is that I've had a life full of depression and PTSD (no literally, my post-trauma started showing in early childhood), and both things can actually cause memory loss or poor memory coherence (unless the memories are traumatic! Do not recommend).

However, I have a glimpse of a memory between me, Glen and Putu, shortly before Putu was bound to leave for Melbourne (for good, he hasn't come back except to visit), where we spent the whole day together, except a break in the afternoon for me to sleep, because true facts - I cannot get through a day without sleeping for several hours in the afternoon.

There was something so golden and perfect about that day. I remember startlingly for me, sitting on the couch and tired and sore (we'd spent the day going to dim sum and then later walking around Kings Park) basking in a feeling I couldn't recall having felt before, and then I think I turned to Putu and Glen and said with some amazement, 'I think I feel content.' And Putu and Glen were like '...yeah...and?' and later I had to admit to Glen I'd never felt the feeling before. Golden and soft, like a cloud.

I think I've felt it once more since then, but I don't remember when. And I don't think I'd felt it before then, either. I would not wish my brain chemistry on anyone. But I'm very glad I got to share that moment with Putu, who is a very close member of my chosen family, for all that I don't get to see him very often anymore.

I can't strongly recall the feeling of the emotion itself. I remember describing it to myself in my head, in complete sentences, and those are the sentences I'm sharing to you now, because my verbal memory is much better than my emotional memory (I have quite serious alexithymia, which would surprise no one, but it's better than it used to be).

And I am relieved that my brain did actually hang onto the moment, mostly because I chanted to myself like a prayer: please don't forget this please don't forget this please don't forget this remember your position on the couch remember where Putu is sitting remember where Glen is sitting remember what you said and remember the time of day and remember what came before.

And, now, I do.

From the flower asks meme!

#asks and answers #memey goodness #personal #incidentally telling myself to snapshot a memory like that doesn't work #i remember words far better than feelings #and my memory formation is like #REALLY good in medical settings #and really not great if i'm just having a good time #though that being said i believe i've only felt contentment a handful of times #amazingly it's enough to mostly keep me going until the next time #it's just that 'the next time' has been a few years now #and i'm starting to think it won't happen again #but here's hoping it does #five lights on a very long string #are sometimes all it takes to keep you looking for the next one

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hood-ex · 3 years

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Can you please tell me what you think about Dick’s characterisation and the roll he plays in the Titans tv series? I have complaints but I want the opinion of someone who knows the comics well (I’ve only read some of the series).

Oh maaan. Where to begin. My thoughts are gonna be all over the place because it’s been sooo long since I’ve watched Titans. I’m kinda dredging it up in my mind as best as I can. So sorry if this isn’t all that cohesive.

First, I think it needs to be pointed out that Titans purposely has a darker tone to it, the timeline of events is all fucky, and the characters being different ages from their comic selves also changes things. Now what this means for Dick is that we’re thrown into his secrets and trauma from the get-go, making him have a more cold, closed-off demeanor. Of course, we know that’s because of his unresolved shit with Bruce, the fallout with the OG Titans, and his guilt over what happened to Jericho. Plus, y’know, the general trauma that comes with watching your parents die and dealing with all the terrible shit that goes on in Gotham night after night.

I think most people were shocked to see Dick be this dark person, but he’s dark because the show throws us into the middle of Dick’s trauma that he hasn’t worked past yet. So it’s not surprising that people may have been expecting Dick Grayson from Wolfman’s New Teen Titan’s run, and instead, got the traumatized Dick Grayson from Devin Grayson’s Blockbuster run. It may make Dick seem OOC, but it’s really not far off base from how he acts during a very dark period of his life in comics.

The super aggressive fighting... ehhh. I can kinda understand it since his dark thoughts are reflected in how he fights. Still, Dick generally doesn’t do more damage than necessary in the comics.

In S1, Dick is kinda flighty. He’s not totally on board with being Rachel’s guardian or staying with Rachel, Kory, and Gar. Again, not super surprising to me since Dick has been trained not to blindly trust people. I also think he doesn’t want to get hurt again after what happened with the OG Titans.

The way the show shits on Dick’s relationships with the Titans is super sad to see. In the show, I think it’s made clear that Dick is scared of being abandoned by the Titans. In comics, Dick needs his friends. They’re his family. And tbh? The way the Titans (Hank, Dawn, and Donna) treat Dick in the show is uhhh bad. Shit like Dawn telling Dick to “be Batman” which is something Dick struggles with in comics, or shit like not being at all concerned when Dick runs into the room with a gun, very obviously having some kind of mental breakdown, and none of them running after him when he runs off to find Jason. Yeah, I don’t fuck with that.

Now Dick does have quite the guilt complex in comics, so I’m not surprised that Jericho’s death has taken such a toll on his mental health, especially since Dick feels responsible for his death.

Dick being passively suicidal? Purposely getting himself arrested because of his guilt? That’s based on canon. It aligns with one of the darkest times in Dick’s life in the comics which was during the Blockbuster fiasco.

But alright. So that’s some of the dark shit about Dick. Now lemme say a few things about the lighter bits of his character in the show.

In comics, Dick is a safety net for many people, and in turn, the Titans are his safety net. I think Titans does portray that if in a bit of a fucked up way. Dick has no responsibility to Rachel and Gar, and he ends up becoming their guardian anyways. Him giving up the car he loves to get a minivan to drive everyone around in shows a certain level of acceptance on his part. Like yeah, the minivan is way more convenient and practical for all of them, but minivans are known to be family cars, so it signifies a desire for a more stable life with a family.

That kinda leads into Dick’s role as leader and guardian since Dick and Kory take these teens in when they don’t have to. Dick eventually not only gives them and Jason a home, he starts to train them because they need to learn to control/protect themselves. And while the family vibes are good and all, Dick’s baggage keeps him from being open with the others, and in turn, Rachel keeps her secret about her powers acting up from Dick because she can tell he’s dealing with a lot or what have you.

Even though Dick’s intentions are good, his own issues puts distance between him and the others. Rachel and Gar have their own shit to deal with, and they need support. They can’t get the support they really need from Dick because of Dick’s own issues, which is why we see Rachel later calling Kory instead of going to Dick.

In comics, Dick is definitely the leader, but he’s not necessarily a guardian to any of the Titans. That’s because most of the Titans are his age or are only a few years younger than him. They’re on more of an even playing field whereas Dick in the show can’t just dump his baggage on the teens he’s a guardian to, y’know? So there’s not as good of a balance between all of them in the show as there is in the comics.

Dick is heavily relied upon in the comics, and I think that’s true for the show as well. He’s also a lynchpin in the show who connects the OG Titans with the new Titans. Him having his shit together is kinda paramount into making the two groups gel, and in the comics, Dick plays that part very well. Sadly, he doesn’t have his shit together in the show, so everything around him starts to fall apart. This kinda happens to him in the comics as well after Joey’s death and the dickkory wedding disaster. Dick is just strung out from everything, and he decides to leave the Titans.

All in all, I don’t think Dick’s characterization in Titans is too far off base. I just think that starting the show off with him being weighed down by his issues is kind of throwing people off since it portrays Dick with certain thoughts and behaviors that are typically reserved for the dark, traumatic events in his life. It kind of only captures one side of him. I would say there are other aspects of his character that aren’t displayed in the show, so who he is in the show isn’t 100% of who Dick Grayson is. It’s only a part of him.

#listen i'm prob forgetting a lot more details or possibly troubling behaviors #i just genuinely don't remember how everything played out #but the parts i mentioned are the things i remember the most #Dick Grayson #Titans #replies #queenmorganlafay

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rainbowandstardust · 3 years

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Death, a reappearing event in the Gandhi family

The Nehru-Gandhi family governed India for almost 50 years out of the total 74 years since our independence. As we approach our 75th Independence day, we should learn about the period of deaths the history of our politics saw in the early years. All of this started with the assassination of the father of India-"Mahatma Gandhi" who was not in politics but his death was the beginning of a series of deaths. First, let's rewind a little bit.

While there are various theories revolving around how the Gandhi name was acquired. The first story that I was told as a kid which has now been proven to be wrong by the internet goes as follows, Feroze Jehangir Ghandy was a Muslim and Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of India did not approve of an inter-religion marriage of his daughter Indira Gandhi, the first and only woman prime minister of India. Mahatma Gandhi decided to adopt Feroze and then convince Jawaharlal Nehru to marry him with Indira. His name changed to Feroze Gandhi and Indira Nehru became Indira Gandhi. Thus, started the legacy of The Gandhi Family.

On further research from different articles on google, a different story was discovered. Feroze Ghandy was a Parsi and a politician along with being an activist who was inspired by the works of Mahatma Gandhi and hence changed the spelling of his surname. He married Indira Nehru who then became Indira Gandhi.

The first death the Gandhi family saw was Mahatma Gandhi's assassination which occurred on 30th January 1948 when Nathuram Godse shot 3 bullets for what he thought would lead him to be celebrated across the whole nation. Instead, he was hanged.

Indira Gandhi one the day of her death. She was wearing a beautiful saffron saree.

Then followed Indira Gandhi. While some people celebrate Indira Gandhi's era some believe it to be the darkest period of Indian democracy. She was shot 33 bullets on 31 October 1984 by her two Sikh bodyguards Satwant Singh and Beant Singh. Operation Blue Star was ordered by Indira Gandhi and was carried between 1 June to 8 June 1984. It was to remove leader Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale and his followers from the buildings of the Harmandir Sahib complex in Amritsar, Punjab. This operation led to many casualties from both sides and the reason many people turned against Indira Gandhi-The Iron Woman of India. Allegedly Indira Gandhi had predicted her own death a day before in her speech given at Bhubaneswar. She said, "I am here today, I may not be here tomorrow. Nobody knows how many attempts have been made to shoot me I do not care whether I live or die. I have lived a long life and I am proud that I spend the whole of my life in the service of my people." The Sikh bodyguards were to be removed after the blue star operation but Indira believed this would create her image as anti-Sikh, a life-threatening mistake she did. Following her death, riots broke out across the whole country.

Rajiv Gandhi was in Contai, 150 km away from Calcutta when Indira Gandhi was shot. He was asked to be the next prime minister following his mother's demise.

Rajiv Gandhi on the day of his death.

This was not the end of the circle of death looming over the Gandhi family. The successive prime minister Rajiv Gandhi took the office in 1984. He was the youngest prime minister of India at the age of 40 and governed from 1984-1989. Like Indira Gandhi, Rajiv Gandhi also anticipated his own death a few moments before the bombing. Neena Gopal asked Rajiv whether he felt his life was at risk, to which Rajiv Gandhi said, "Have you noticed how every time any South Asian leader of any import rises to a position of power or is about to achieve something for himself or his country, he is cut down, attacked, killed look at Mrs. Indira Gandhi, Sheikh Mujib, look at Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, at Zia-ul-Haq, Bandaranaike."

Gopal says within minutes of making the statement that hinted he was aware that he was a likely target of dark forces at play, Rajiv himself would be gone (Statement from India today). Following the Civil war in Sri Lanka, Rajiv Gandhi sent the military to end the uprising. Many soldiers lost their lives and LTTE could not be stopped. India then stopped its involvement in the Sri Lankan civil war, but LTTE became the enemy of Rajiv Gandhi.

He was campaigning in Madras on 21 May 1991. When he was on his way to deliver his speech, Thenmozhi Rajaratnam bent down to touch his feet and took out RDX explosive-laden belt from underneath her dress. Rajiv Gandhi, his assassin, along with 14 others died in the suicide bombing orchestrated by LTTE.

The LTTE leveraged genuine issues of linguistic discrimination, political disenfranchisement, and anti-Tamil riots in the island nation where Sinhalese-Buddhists are a majority — but adopted the politics of violence and terror as the method to attain their objective. And it was this terror that cost India’s former PM his life. (Hindustan Times)

LTTE then lost its support from Tamil. “Rajiv Gandhi was expected to come to power in the 1991 general elections. The results showed that in his death, he was stronger than in his life,” says Thiyagu.

Sanjay Gandhi in his plane

This was not all. Prior to these assassinations occurred the death of Sanjay Gandhi, the youngest son of Indira Gandhi. During the emergency period in India, Sanjay Gandhi is believed to have a really strong hold on what was happening around the country. He had a liking for adventures and did acrobats in planes. One day prior to his death he was travelling in the same plane with Maneka Gandhi who then came home and informed Indira about the plane ride, telling her to stop Sanjay from flying in that plane again. Indira talked to Sanjay about the safety of the plane. To which he replied that it would be fixed in 2-3 days. The very next day i.e 23 June 1980 Sanjay died in a plane crash. One more person who was flying the plane along with him died. He was supposed to be his mother's successor in politics.

There are many conspiracy theories regarding some of which state that Indira had her son killed. I don't think a mother and one like Indira Gandhi can do such a thing. After his death she said. "It feels like my right arm has been taken away." No one can understand the love of a mother. Moreover, there are no strong arguments backing up this conspiracy theory. One must keep in mind that Sanjay had a liking for adventures and he had been doing such acrobats in the planes for a long time. But, he was still not so experienced. It is most likely that it was an accidental death.

Rahul and Priyanka Gandhi

Flashforward to 2021 when Sonia Gandhi is the leader of the Indian National Congress, Rahul Gandhi is often portrayed as a person who is dumb in front of the public. One cannot neglect the fact that he and his sister, Priyanka Gandhi, and his brother, Varun Gandhi had a very traumatic childhood. At the mere age of 10, Rahul Gandhi saw his uncle's death followed by his grandmother who was killed by people he thought were his friends. In one of his interviews, he said he thought they were his friends. They once taught him to play badminton and out of anger, they killed his grandmother. Following Indira's death, Rahul Gandhi and Priyanka Gandhi were homeschooled for security reasons. This led to their seclusion from society. After this when he was studying at Harvard he heard the news of his father's death. He shifted to Rollins College in Florida again for security reasons. The amount of trauma this family faced is a lot. Their childhood had been full of deaths and social seclusion. No one can even imagine the trauma surrounding the Gandhi family. Sonia had pleaded with Rahul not to take up politics, "I begged him not to let them do this. I pleaded with him, with others around him, too. He would be killed as well. He held my hands, hugged me, tried to soothe my desperation. He had no choice, he said, he would be killed anyway." What has politics ever given Rahul? It has taken away everything from him.

-Vrinda Kwatra

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honeyhellsbells · 2 years

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I am from Germany but currently live in the USA. I speak English, German and French. I have a bachelor's degree in life sciences as well as my doctorate in veterinary medicine. I work in a reptile and amphibian health management facility. I love science and animals. I have two pet cats. I’m very hardworking and smart. I pride myself in my work but often have a hard time managing a life and work balance. I like to travel to different countries. My hobbies/interests are volleyball, writing, archery, swimming, sewing, yoga, and gardening. I dislike natural disasters, the dark, coffee/tea, and football. I am pretty quiet when I am focused and don’t try to make friends often unless someone approaches me first. I am really insecure about my acne and laugh.

For fandoms I'd like, arcana and obey me please. Thank you :)

For Obey me your Match Up would be... Lucifer! This demon wants nothing more than peace and quiet. Period. Anyone who can manage to exist without irritating him any further is in his opinion a good person to be around. And for the first few months you were just one of those people to him. Unobtrusive, polite, quiet and in general relatively pleasant. And while he feels quite guilty to admit it (and is of course to proud to do so) at some point you were so unobtrusive that he sometimes forgot that you were even there. All of that changed one day when he came home from a meeting and found you, several hours later, still rooted to the same spot, researching something for work with the darkest shadows he has ever seen under your eyes and barely able to keep yourself awake, let alone focus on what you were trying to read. And while he likes to be seen as aloof as he possibly could be, he is an older sibling and knows when someone needs to have a boundary enforced. So without any further ado, he has you bundled up in a blanket and thrown into bed. From that day on you have officially gained yourself your own unholy guardian demon. There would be no living with him if you weren't aware of the fact that his pestering came from a good place and in the end, reminding you to take breaks and not overwork yourself somehow ended up enforcing these rules on himself as well. As time goes on and he learns more about you, he realizes that while your quiet demeanor is indeed a good part of your personality, the big picture is by far a lot more vibrant and also a lot more chaotic than he had originally thought. Sometimes he was worried he would get whiplash from the rapid changes in your behavior, fully expecting to have to restrain you before you started running up the walls from your high level of energy before he suddenly thought you might have spontaneously fallen asleep with how quiet you had gotten in a matter of seconds. You fully keep him on his toes in all aspects and in the best way, always leaving him guessing how the next day or next hour is going to be, whether he would be taking you to a club to dance and get sweaty, spend some time under the dim Devildom sky and watch you try to grow some human world plants or simply enjoy a quiet evening in front of the fireplace. ------------------------- For the Arcana your Match Up would be... Asra! Everyone who loves animals and cares for snakes like his familiar Faust, is a good person in his book. Asra is intrigued by the strangest things at times, and maybe he doesn't even know what the one thing was that made him so fascinated of you in the first place. All of a sudden he shows up with Faust in tow far more often than it would be usual, complaining about "a strange sound she made" or that "she felt different" as well as many other reasons that made it clear that there was really nothing wrong with the lavender snake and that he was just grasping at straws for reasons to visit you. With his ruse uncovered, he changes his tactics, but doubles his efforts. Having learned early in your budding relationship that your work tends to dominate your daily life beyond what would be deemed healthy, he went through a few rounds of trial and error to find a hot beverage you could enjoy together. He quickly became very skilled at distracting you with tales of his many journeys, burying you with words until his tale turns into another bedtime story to get you to get some rest. Those tales gave you a new passion to share: traveling. Asra has been seemingly everywhere at least once and gladly takes over the role of your personal guide. Being aware of your rather reluctant nature when it comes to strangers and your affinity of having a good time with a party or two, he is quick to introduce you to everyone he knows you will get along well with, still fascinated after all the time he has known you how quickly your behavior seems to change. One moment you happily exert yourself with dancing, the next you slump against him, looking tired but very content. Asra wasn't sure where his life was going to lead him for the longest time, rather happy with his solitary life as a restless wanderer, but something had always seemed to be missing. And then there you were, harvesting flowers in his garden for a tea that he loved and you found to be absolutely detestable. Faust was loosely dangling from your shoulders, making you giggle with whatever mischievous thought had sprung into her head this time. And with that, he had found his missing puzzle piece. I hope you like your Match Ups!

#matchup #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #the arcana #arcana #the arcana asra

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introvertguide · 3 years

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Chinatown (1974); AFI #21

The next movie that we reviewed was a very dark example of neo-noir film directed by Roman Polanski, Chinatown (1974). This film was a throwback to very dark crime thrillers that reflected the outlook of a Great Depression followed by world war. Polanski was experiencing a very dark period since he had just moved to America to get married and immediately lost his wife and unborn son in a horrific murder. The film was well received by critics and audiences, but it could not stand against the award winning juggernaut which was The Godfather Part 2. Polanski’s film was nominated for 11 Academy awards but only took one home for best original screenplay, a category that didn’t include The Godfather Part 2. It is hard to describe how incredibly down beat this film is without spoiling too early, so let me give the breakdown with the standard warning:

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS IS A MURDER MYSTERY SO THE PLOT IS ABOUT TO BE WELL SPOILED!!! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE FILM FIRST, NOW IS THE TIME TO STEP AWAY!!! COME BACK AFTER YOU SEE THE FILM!!!

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In 1937, a woman identifying herself as Evelyn Mulwray hires private investigator J. J. "Jake" Gittes (Jack Nicholson) to follow her husband, Hollis Mulwray, the chief engineer at the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. Gittes tails him, hears him publicly refuse to create a new reservoir that would be unsafe, and shoots photographs of him with a young woman, which are published on the front page of the following day's paper. Back at his office, Gittes is confronted by a woman who informs him she is the real Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) and that he can expect a lawsuit.

Realizing he was set up, Gittes assumes that Hollis Mulwray is the real target. Before he can question him, Lieutenant Lou Escobar fishes Mr. Mulwray, drowned, from a reservoir. Under retainer to Mrs. Mulwray, Gittes investigates with suspicions of murder and notices that although there is a drought, huge quantities of water are being released from the reservoir every night. Gittes is warned off by Water Department Security Chief Claude Mulvihill and a henchman (Roman Polanski) who slashes one of Gittes' nostrils. Back at his office, Gittes receives a call from Ida Sessions, who identifies herself as the imposter Mrs. Mulwray. She is afraid to identify her employer but tells Gittes to check the day's obituaries.

Gittes learns that Mulwray was once the business partner of Evelyn's wealthy father, Noah Cross (John Huston). Over lunch at his personal club, Cross warns Gittes that he does not understand the forces at work, and offers to double Gittes' fee to search for Mulwray's missing mistress. At the hall of records, Gittes discovers that much of the Northwest Valley has recently changed ownership. Investigating the valley, he is attacked by angry landowners who believe he is an agent of the water department attempting to force them out by sabotaging their water supply.

Gittes deduces that the water department is drying up the land so it can be bought at a reduced price and that Mulwray was murdered when he discovered the plan. He discovers that a recently deceased retirement home resident is one of the valley's new landowners and seemingly purchased the property a week after his death. Gittes and Evelyn bluff their way into the home and confirm that the real-estate deals were surreptitiously completed in the names of several of the home's residents. Their visit is interrupted by the suspicious retirement-home director, who has called Mulvihill.

After fleeing Mulvihill and his thugs, Gittes and Evelyn hide at Evelyn's house and sleep together. During the night, Evelyn gets a phone call and must leave suddenly; she warns Gittes that her father is dangerous. Gittes follows Evelyn's car to a house, where he spies her through the windows comforting Mulwray's mistress, Katherine. He accuses Evelyn of holding the woman against her will, but she says Katherine is her sister.

The next day, an anonymous call draws Gittes to Ida Sessions' apartment, where he finds her murdered and Escobar waiting for Gittes' arrival. Escobar tells him the coroner's report found salt water in Mulwray's lungs, indicating that he did not drown in the fresh water of the reservoir. Escobar suspects Evelyn of the murder and tells Gittes to produce her quickly. At Evelyn's mansion, Gittes finds her servants packing her things. He realizes her garden pond is salt water and discovers a pair of bifocals in it. He confronts Evelyn about Katherine, whom Evelyn now claims is her daughter. After Gittes slaps her (a lot), she tells him that Katherine is her sister and her daughter; her father raped her when she was 15. She says that the glasses are not Mulwray's, as he did not wear bifocals.

Gittes arranges for the women to flee to Mexico and instructs Evelyn to meet him at her butler's home in Chinatown. He summons Cross to the Mulwray home to settle their deal. Cross admits his intention to annex the Northwest Valley into the City of Los Angeles, then irrigate and develop it. Gittes accuses Cross of murdering Mulwray. Cross has Mulvihill take the bifocals at gunpoint, and they force Gittes to drive them to the women. When they reach the Chinatown address, the police are already there and detain Gittes. When Cross approaches Katherine, Evelyn shoots him in the arm and starts to drive away with Katherine. The police open fire, killing Evelyn. Cross clutches Katherine and leads her away, while Escobar orders Gittes released. Lawrence Walsh, one of Gittes' associates, tells him: "Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown."

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

I really cannot emphasize how much of a bummer ending this film has. It is right up there (down there) with Sophie’s Choice. A man who pays to dump water so that he can purchase cheap farm land, kills his partner who threatens to tell, and rapes his own 15-year-old daughter is the antagonist. In the end, he is released to take custody of his young granddaughter without punishment after the police shoot the daughter that he raped. The investigator who tried to help and solved the mystery is left with no say and a slit nostril for his troubles. Polanski later said in interviews that he wanted to emphasize the futility of trying to find justice in Los Angeles. Both his life and this movie really proved that as a fact. It is funny that the screenwriter who won the academy award wanted Cross to die and Evelyn to live, but Polanski insisted and the dark tone is what pushed the award in their favor.

There was some discussion about finding an actor that was willing to be the lead with a bandaged face or prosthetic injury for most of the movie. It was still all about face time and dialogue, so most lead actors didn’t want to cover up their face. Nicholson was not actually known for his good looks as much as other actors, so he was more willing to take on the role. Actually, it was Nicholson who wanted to work on a project with Polanski and suggested the script in the first place. Also, Nicholson really connected with Polanski at the time and was not afraid to play dark roles. Jon Huston was not as keen on the heavy pedophile incest role since he had a lovely young daughter of his own (actress Angelica Huston). It turned out to be a good choice for all the actors involved.

Something that came up during the viewing with my housemates was reactions to the scene when Jack Nicholson is slapping Faye Dunaway when she is admitting that the girl she visits is both her sister and her daughter. She keeps alternating between “she’s my sister” and “she’s my daughter” and each statement is punctuated with a slap in the face by Jack Nicholson. It is supposed to be deeply serious and a major reveal in the movie, but we were laughing so hard at the absurdity. It was truly unrealistic and more of a trope of film noir than anything else (slapping a hysterical woman). It truly was a throwback to 40s and 50s style Hollywood and some of the standards of film story telling at that time were a bit silly.

I have reviewed this move in more ways than I thought because I realized on this viewing that the video game L.A. Noir borrows very heavily from this film. So many aspects, from the locations to the situations to the soundtrack, were all put into the video game. I have spent many hours of my life playing through that game a number of times and I am shocked each time. I am curious if Rockstar Games had to pay any money to Roman Polanski for such a close similarity to the film? I tried to look it up but didn’t find anything, so probably not.

So should this film by on the AFI to 100? For sure. It is an Old Hollywood story about even older Hollywood. It stands out as one of the darkest endings that I have ever experienced. It has major star power and surrounded by amazing stories of Hollywood. Would I recommend it? I sure would. It is a great trip around old Hollywood with some of America’s greatest actors. I think just as interesting is the story of Roman Polanski (who I did an article on as well) and why his head space was so dark during the production of this film. Definitely worth a watch and a background deep dive.

#introvert #introverts #chinatown #jack nicholson #faye dunaway #roman polanski #movie review #top 100 #70s #Film Criticism

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

I Found- Chapter 1

A/N: Hey folks! This is little visit to the past in honour of the one year anniversary of Extraction and this fic itself. As of tomorrow, I will post two to three chapters A DAY until all are up. I know they’re a mess on my blog right now and people who don’t want to go to Ao3 can’t find all the chapters. I was going to thoroughly edit, but I thought ‘why not leave it as is?’. It’s a little more than 365 days old now and a lot has changed for both the characters and my writing itself. As my long time readers and supporters can tell you :). So keep in mind, this was my first foray into writing Tyler and it’s rough and it’s a little...not the me I am now...but it’s a fun ride, IMO.

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Rake (Original Female Character)

Face Claims: Chris Hemsworth (obviously) and Rachel Bilson

Premise: Broken and bleeding. Weathered and in tatters. Two damaged and weary souls find one another when they least expect it. Wrong place, wrong time. Yet both powerless to stop it.

Summary: Eleven months after the events in Dhaka and his near death experience, Tyler Rake is a new man. A different man. Struggling with the demons of his past while balancing being a husband and a father.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945782/chapters/57587218

It's been just shy of twelve months and his instincts are still keen; nerves rash and fresh, body and mind always on high alert. The proof to the old adage that old habits really do die hard.

A journey to the very brink of death. Weeks of lying in a hospital bed teetering on the threshold of this life and the next. Countless agonizing hours of rehab and physical therapy just to relearn the basics and get back onto his weary and battered feet. Once he was home nothing had been able to slow him down. He threw everything he had into healing. Every ounce of mind, body, and spirit. Pushing himself past the warnings and the limits that the doctors and specialists had set for him. Ignoring the advice on not to push himself too hard, too fast. He felt as if he didn't have a choice. He no longer just had himself to worry about; another human being with one on the way that was relying on him. Depending on him to take care of them. Provide for them. Protect them. So he had pushed himself to the brink of both exhaustion and physical and emotional collapse. Eventually finding himself back at at the gym and packing on the weight and muscle. Anxious for some semblance of the man he used to be.

He hears the soft rustle of blankets though the monitor on the nightstand and his eyes immediately snap open. Sleep was a strange beast for him these days. Nights where he could fall into a peaceful slumber and stay there until sunlight was streaming through the window, others where the pain was all encompassing and nauseating and he couldn't get comfortable, and those where he was haunted by the demons of his past. The latter didn't come nearly as often as they did before; managing to find some hint of internal peace with the things he had done and witnessed. Once in a while he'd find himself back on that bridge; assaulted by the smells of gun powder and lead. The acrid taste of blood on his lips. And he'd hear her voice and feel her hands; the way she cradled his face in them, the way she'd pulled his nearly lifeless body tight against her, felt those tears that fell on his skin. Thankfully he'd awaken and quickly discover that he was in the safety and comfort of his own home. His own bed. And he'd watch her as she slept; the way the moonlight painted her smooth skin in an ethereal glow and the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. He'd watch her and listen to her breathe and he'd remind himself of just how far he had come. Gratitude spreading through him like a slow burning fire. Thankful for the second chance that he'd been given. For the love that he'd found during one of the darkest and most difficult periods of his life. She'd given him a reason. A purpose. And he wasn't going to take that for granted.

He groans as he rolls over onto his back. The pain isn't as bad tonight. There were times he could barely even move. Where the agony made him dizzy and nauseous and even the simplest of tasks seemed impossible to preform. Tonight it's a dull ache; a nagging pain that has settled deep into his bones and his joints but he has learned to deal with. Placing his hands behind his head, he waits and listens. The lights from the monitor dancing across the ceiling as life stirs in the room across the hall. He's gotten used to it; the little noises, the soft sighs, the slight fussing before she settles herself back to sleep. It wasn't his first rodeo after all; not his first foray into fatherhood. But it is the first time he's been able to be more hands on. Put his be all and end all into the nurturing. And this time he knows he will get it right. He's determined to make amends for the mistakes of his past. Moving on didn't mean forgetting. It didn't mean that the love and regret and the guilt weren't still there, lingering just under the surface. Sometimes the greatest homage to the dead was how the living continued. How they made up for the bad decisions they made and how those decisions had...in the end...helped shape them into a better person.

The sounds through the monitor continue and he sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and giving his body and brain time to adjust to full consciousness. Running his hands through his hair and over his tired face, fingers brushing against the various scars that serve as a lasting memory of his former life. A pair of sweats sit in a discarded pile by the bed and he reaches for them; softly muttering profanities at the various cracks and pops that his body makes at the simple task of pulling on his pants. Scar tissue, arthritis, remnants of shrapnel and bullets that couldn't safely be removed. All working together to be a complete pain in his ass. His wife moves behind him. Sighing loudly and contently as she rolls over onto her side. Not waking as her hand instinctively reaching out for him; finger tips brushing against his back just as he stands up.

He is out the door and in the hall before the first shrill cry erupts. Yawning and stretching noisily as he steps into the nursery. A cheerful room with soft yellow walls, pink, white, and purple stripped curtains and natural wood furniture. Teddy bears and dolls staring down at him from the perches on the shelves on the wall, accompanied by framed photos of baby animals and Disney characters. He'd never pictured himself a 'girl dad'; frilly dresses and the tiny socks with the lace around the ankles, and the little headbands that served no other purpose than being cute. He was rough and tumble. Always had been, even from an early age. So when he'd found out he was having a daughter he'd been terrified. He didn't know the first thing about taking care of little girls and doing their hair and healing their broken hearts. And for the first time in his life was actually scared of something. Or someone. A being that hadn't even been born yet but was already making a huge impact on his life.

“You'll be fine,” his wife had assured him when he'd expressed his concern. Watching from the couch as she stood at the kitchen table folding laundry. Including a newly purchased outfit and those tiny teeny socks that she had purchased just hours ago. She was so beautiful. Standing there with that chestnut hair tumbling down to her waist, her belly swollen with their child. HIS child. A child that had been conceived in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty. “You've ridden this particular bike before,” she'd reminded him. “This isn't your first time going through this.”

“That was different. That was a boy. This is a girl. This is dresses and pig tails and tea parties and make up and other boys.”

“Tyler, that's years down the road. You can't worry about that stuff. Make up and boys? You can't dwell on what she's going to be like when she's a teenager.”

“I sure bloody well can. Because knowing my luck she'll end up just like her mother. Full of piss and vinegar and all kinds of trouble.”

“You always did know how to get yourself into heaps of it,” she'd smirked, and tossed a pair of balled up socks in his direction, just missing his head. “But you always managed to get yourself out of it too.”

“I knew you were trouble from the very second I met you, you know,” he'd said, as he got off the couch and wandered over to where she was so diligently working. Liking the way that simple white gold wedding band looked on her finger. He still hadn't gotten used to; it had only been a few months and even with that life growing in her belly, they were still very much enjoying being newlyweds. He liked it. Being a husband. He liked the simplicity and the comforts that came with the little things that took up their new life. Household chores and preparing meals and sharing a bed with the same warm body and beautiful face each and every day. Mundane to some. A welcome change and relief to him.

“I wasn't the one with the reputation for being difficult,” she'd reminded him. “I wasn't the one who was like a bear with a sole asshole even on his best days.”

“Yet here you are. Playing house with me. A good little wife. Giving me babies. So I must have done something right, huh?” he'd playfully nudged her with his elbow. “You stuck around. Through thick or thin. I put you through a lot of shit and agony and here you are. Here WE are.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Tyler Rake. You think you would have realized that by now.”

“Getting rid of you is the last thing I ever want.”

They'd stood in companionable silence; working quickly and efficiently together. Little boring tasks that they almost never got to experience. He'd never take things like that for granted again. And he'd grabbed a pair of her underwear from the fresh pile and hooking them around his finger, grinned as he swung them around.

“How'd we ever graduate to these, huh? These are not what I remember you wearing. You weren't wearing any the first time we...well...you know...”

“You're such a pig,” she'd grumbled, and tried to snatch them away. Frowning when he held them high above his head. Not an easy reach for a woman that only stood five foot three. “What is wrong with you? Seriously.”

“I thought you were trouble the second I met you. The way you shook my hand. The way you smiled at me. But I knew it for sure when I had you pinned against that wall and I put my hand down your shorts and realized that you weren't any underwear. Remember that? That first time? I knew I was in trouble but I didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop. I was surprised you were such a kinky little thing.”

“You've got issues. What is your major malfunction?”

“Nothing wrong with a little visit to the past. Especially when it involves being naked.”

“Would you stop?” she'd perched herself on her tip toes and frantically tried to grab the offending piece of clothing from his grasp. “What's gotten into you?”

“It's what hasn't gotten into you in a while,” he'd retorted, laughing when she'd directed a slap to his gut, his arms circling her waist when she'd lost her balance and tumbled into him. And they'd stood like that; her head against his chest, his eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head. Loving all those things about her that had become so familiar and comforting to him. The lingering scent of coconut shampoo that clung to her hair, the feel of her heart beating against him, those small and soft hands stroking up and down his back. This woman...the one that had seen him at his most fragile...who he owed his life to.

Her hands were on the back of his shoulders when she'd pulled away and looked up at him. Her eyes sparkling as she smiled. A smile he had once thought he'd never see again.

“I love you,” he'd told her. Three words that he had always hesitated on uttering before but now couldn't say enough. If Gaspar was still around he'd call him soft. Tell him he was whipped and a pussy and needed to get his balls back. But he wasn't around anymore.

A lot of people weren't.

“I know,” she'd said. “But not nearly as much as I love you.”

“Hey, this isn't a competition. And if it was, I'd win. I always do.”

“You have a very overinflated sense of yourself,” she'd chided.

He was her rock. He knew that. Even when he was still recovering and he was nothing more than a mere fraction of the man he once was. Even when she had to help nurse him back to health and he'd had to trust her completely with even the mundane things like feeding himself and brushing his teeth. But she'd stuck by him. Even when he felt humiliated that he even needed help with such things. Embarrassed that she was seeing him so vulnerable. Allowing her to see his tears of anger, frustration, and pain. She'd always said that he was the only one that made her feel safe and secure. Protected. Even when he wasn't at his best.

“Shit...” She'd grimaced when the baby had kicked her especially hard. Eyes closing and her forehead falling onto his chest.

“Even I felt that one.” He’d e'd move one hand from her waist to her ever growing stomach. Marvelling at the way he could feel their baby...his baby...moving inside of her. It may not have been his first time. Not his first child. But he was determined to enjoy every second of it and not take a single moment for granted. “See what I mean? Trouble just like her mom. Feisty as all hell. A boy wouldn't cause this many issues.”

“Boys come with a whole shit load of issues. After all, it was a boy that got me into this situation in the first place.”

“Come on now, I wasn't the only one that was having all the fun. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too. I didn't make this baby all on my own, you know.”

“It was fun,” she'd admitted. “It always is.”

“Yeah. It most definitely is.”

One of her hands came down to rest on top of his and they stood there together, feeling their child moving inside of her. Marvelling at all the kicks and wriggles. At the miracle that they had created. All because two people fell in love during the entirely wrong time and in the entirely wrong place.

“You need to take it easy there, sweetheart,” he'd spoken to his daughter, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles. “Go easy on your mum, okay? Daddy's already put her through enough to last a lifetime.”

“She listens to you already. She likes your voice.”

“Already takes after her mother. Isn't that one of the first things you said you liked about me? My voice?”

“It does funny things to my insides. Even now.”

“I like doing funny things to your insides,” he'd dropped a kiss on the top of her head and she'd looked up at him once again.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“It's only eight thirty.”

“I don't mean to sleep. I mean to do other things. Fun things. Things that help you sleep better.”

A slow grin had spread across his face.

He didn't need to be told twice.

*******

“What's going on in here?” he asks as he steps alongside the crib, where his tiny baby girl has managed to to shed herself of her tight swaddling and was preparing to whip herself up into a frenzy. She has his temper already; slow to anger but almost impossible to control once the fuse was fully lit. “What kind of trouble are you getting up to in here? How'd you get yourself into such a mess? Clever little thing, aren't you.”

The crying dies down. Settling down to a mere whimper. She recognizes her daddy's voice. His face. And she knows she's in good hands. The wailing replaced by an impossibly dramatic pout on someone so young.

“You really are your mother's daughter,” he says. “I recognize that look anywhere. How does a little one like you get yourself into trouble? Look at you...” he untangles the receiving blanket from between her legs and scoops her up from the crib. Lifting her to the safe and warm confines of his chest. A forearm supporting her bum, his palm on the back of her head. “It's okay now,” he croons, and presses a kiss to the side of her head. She has his hair; same texture and colour. His eyes. Even his nose and lips. He can hear his wife now. Complaining about doing all the leg work and going through all the pain, only to have the baby coming out looking just like him. “Daddy's here now. Everything is fine. You're okay now.”

After a quick diaper change, he carries her through the apartment and into the kitchen. That tiny little body laying perfectly along his forearm as he warms a bottle from the fridge. She fits so perfect in the crook of his arm; head nestled into the valley on his elbow, feet by his wrist. She's long. Lanky. Just like he'd been as a kid. “You're probably wondering why I'm out here doing this,” he speaks as he waits for the bottle to warm. “You know this is usually your mummy's thing. Getting up in the middle of the night. And I know she doesn't exactly use these silly things to feed you. But I thought we'd be nice and let her sleep. She does a lot for us, you know. She deserves to sleep.”

He sits on the couch as he feeds her; both feet on the coffee table, knees bent with her lying along his thighs. One hand holding the bottle and the fingers of the other exploring every inch of her. She is wondrous; big blue eyes and impossibly long dark lashes and freckles across the bridge of her nose. And has he talks to her in a deep and soothing tone, her gaze is focused intently on him. Eyes never leaving his, one of her tiny hands reaching for the hand that holds the bottle, all fingers curling around just one of his. He had forgotten what this was like. The pure magic of being a father. Knowing that you had helped create something so incredible. That you had played a part in bringing another human being into this world.

As crazy and fucked up as the world could be, that is. It gave him a sense of peace. The knowledge that when the end came, he'd go knowing that he had done something truly good and valuable with his life.

He stands and carries her over to the balcony window. Once again holding her with a forearm under her bum and a firm hand on the back of his head. “You see that out there...” he nods towards the skyline; twinkling lights of skyscrapers and glowing street lights and blazing stars. “...that can be a real scary place. There's a lot of really bad people out there. But there's a lot of really good people too. People that would protect you, no questions asked. People that already love you without even really knowing you. And somewhere out there, is some guy that's going to come into your life and probably break your heart. And you know what? That's okay. It's okay to get your heart broken. Because it makes you a better person. It makes you stronger. Even if you think it's going to kill you at the time.”

She stares up at him with those huge blue eyes. With so much wonder and trust that it it causes a lump of emotion to gather in his throat and blur his vision.

“You know, there was almost a time where this might not have happened. Where I might not have been here. Where it might have just been you and your mom. And if it wasn't for your mom, I probably wouldn't be here. She's something else, you know. She's the bravest and strongest person I've ever met in my entire life. And there were so many times where this could have been too much for her...where I could have been too much for her...and she could have just walked away. But she never did. She never gave up on me. Even when I was ready to give up on myself. She's the one you need to worry about, you know. She jokes around that I'm going to be the one that scares all the boys away but I have a feeling it's going to be her. She doesn't let anyone mess with the people she loves. She's a momma bear. She's ferocious and she's loyal and she will f...” he bites his tongue “...mess someone up if she needs to. I was even kind of scared of her when I first meet her. Not because she's scary looking or I was afraid she'd hurt me. Mind you, she probably could if she got mad enough. Like how she gets when I leave the toilet seat up in the middle of the night. She scared me because I'd never felt that way about anyone. At least not that quickly. You can be the strongest person in the world, but when that one person comes along, you can't stop it. No matter if the timing isn't right. No matter how screwed up things are. Even if it is the wrong place, wrong time. You're powerless. Your heart just takes over. The important thing you have to remember is that you let your heart and your head work at the same time. That's the only way things will be okay. Or at least that's how it worked for your mom and I.”

He adjusts his hold on her, bringing her up to rest against his chest. Fingers combing through her thick, silky hair, his other hand softly stroking her back.

“Your mom came into my life when I'd pretty much given up on everything. When I didn't even feel human any more. Where nothing mattered. She came into my life and rescued me. In every way a person can rescue someone. And I know she'll probably deny that if you ask her. She'd say that I'm the brave one. That I'm the one that rescues people. But she had the toughest job out of them all. I'm not the easiest person to love. And she knew that. Yet here she is. A year later and she's still sticking around. Still putting up with my crap. So I must be doing something right, yeah? She hasn't smothered me with a pillow in my sleep or put poison in my food or put a hit out on me.”

“You just had to ruin the moment,” that soft voice says from behind, and he watches her reflection through the window as she journeys over to them. Chestnut hair messy from sleep and falling loose to the middle of her back. She is heavier now; softer and curvier in all the right places. Having a baby will do that to you. But she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Even more so decked out in one of his shirts; the fabric hanging to well below her knees, sleeves rolled and bunched just about her elbows. “What are you two doing? It's late. Or really early. Depending on how you look at it.”

“We're just having a little daddy daughter bonding time.”

She squints her eyes and peers at the clock on the nearby wall. “It's ten after three.”

“Time means nothing when you have a baby. She doesn't know what time it is. And I barely sleep, so...”

“So what does this bonding time consist of? Shit talking me?”

“I only said that last part because I knew you were behind me. I said all good things, I swear. And I was telling her all my best stories.”

“Lord I really hope not,” she rubs his shoulders and presses a kiss to his back before sidling up beside him. “All your best stories are gory.”

“I'm saving those ones for when she's old enough to be able to kick someone in the balls if they're bothering her. So she doesn't have to rely on a brother to do it.”

“Not even two months into this and you're already contemplating another? Good luck doing that yourself. Let me know how it works out for you.”

The subject had come up once or twice. About whether or not this was a one off or there were other children in their future. After he'd lost his son and given up on life, he hadn't thought there'd be any other kids. It wasn't as if he lived the kind of life he'd be proud to bring a child into it. She'd been a complete surprise. They thought they'd been careful. Apparently they hadn't been careful enough.. But she wasn't a mistake. Far from it. A happy accident was more like it. Now that he'd gotten his feet wet again in the parenting pool, he was open to having more kids. He craved it, actually. Another two or three. And a modest house on a good parcel of land. Somewhere close to the beach. With a window that looked into the backyard that he could watch his children through. Where he could grow old and gray with the love of his life.

But he still had a lot of shit to deal with before any of that could happen.

She yawns loudly and steps in front of him; both arms wrapping around his waist she lays her head against him. “Are you okay?”

“Best I can be, I guess. Little sore. But what else is new.”

She just nods. She knows it goes beyond being 'a little sore'. She had seen the extent of his injuries. She'd lived out the horror right alongside of him. It had been his blood that soaked her that day on the bridge. But she also knows he isn't the type you fawn over. He doesn't like the attention. Feeling as if he's weak. Or that he may be a burden. He was still trying to get that confidence back. The ego takes a serious beating when you're left unable to do even the smallest of tasks for yourself. “You're having trouble sleeping?”

“When haven't I had trouble sleeping?”

“But it's worse now, isn't it. I know how many times you get up in the middle of the night. It's worse now.”

“Just a stage,” he assures her. “I'll be fine. How many times have we been through this, huh? How many times do I have to tell you not to worry about me?”

“A million. But I still won't listen.”

“That's never going to change,” he teases. “You didn't listen to me a year ago and you don't listen to me now. And you wonder why I say your daughter is going to be trouble.”

She grins up at him. “Why does she become just my daughter when you talk about trouble?”

“Because we both know who the real trouble maker is in this relationship,” he retorts, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

In silence they watch their daughter; the way her eyes shift between the two of them before slowing beginning to close, a yawn escaping her mouth. A surprisingly large one that ends in a tiny squeak. He's in awe of her. Of how tiny and fragile she is. How he'd managed to make something so amazing.

“She's beautiful,” he speaks around a lump of emotion that sits square in his throat. His emotions have been raw since that day in Dhaka. And even more so since becoming a father for a second time. He can hear Gaspar in his head again. Talking about how soft he was becoming. That he didn't even recognize him any more. That growing a heart this late in the game was going to be his biggest downfall and his most relentless enemy. “Like her mother.”

“She looks just like you.”

“I honestly don't see it,” he hopes he sounds a least a tad sincere.

His wife gives a derisive snort. “You have some seriously strong genes, Tyler Rake. Imagine if we had a boy? Probably be your splitting image. By the way...” she rubs his stomach and smiles up at him. “...you do the really big, strong man with a tiny baby thing very well. It's kind of sexy.”

“Just kind of? I was going for totally sexy. Insanely sexy. You might as well said mediocre sexy.”

“Don't expect me to stroke your ego at three in the morning.”

“Why not? Not like you've been stroking anything else lately.”

“Shhhh...” she places a finger over her lips. “...there's innocent ears in this room.”

“She's asleep. And even if she wasn't, she wouldn't understand what I was saying anyway. Besides, she's going to end up learning where she come from sooner or later.”

“Well let's make that later. Much later. And mediocre sexy? Really? As if you could ever be anything other than out of the world sexy.”

“You're lucky. I was going to have to file for divorce if you called me 'average sexy'.”

“You're too much,” she giggles, and dropping one of her arms from around his waist, runs the palm of her hand along the baby's hair. “And you're right. She is beautiful. She is perfect.”

“It's hard to believe sometimes, isn't it? That we made her? During all that craziness and all that madness, we actually made a life together. Surreal, huh? That something so beautiful could come out of all of that?”

“A lot of beautiful things came out of that. We just have a hard time recognizing what they are sometimes.”

He nods in agreement. Sniffling noisily and swallowing heavily when the weight of emotion becomes almost too much to bear. He's never had to hide this side of himself when it came to her. After all, she was the one who'd successfully bulldozed all of his walls to the ground. So it comes as no surprise to either of them when the tears finally do come; blazing hot against his skin, the taste of salt stinging his lips.

“Baby...” she turns to face him, reaching up to take his face in her hands. “...what's wrong? What...?”

“Nothing's wrong. I just...” he struggles to find the words, inhaling deeply and releasing a shaky breath. “...thank you...” he says. “...for her. For you. For us.”

“I think you played a pretty big part in her being here,” she reminds him. “It's not like I did this alone.”

“I don't deserve all of this. I don't deserve her. I don't deserve you. This...this life...” he shakes his head. “...this was meant for someone else. A better man than me.”

She chews pensively on her bottom lip and regards him through her own tears. He knows she won't let them come. She's been the one holding back lately. When they'd met, she'd been the high strung and overly emotional one. Always on edge. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. He'd been that calm, cool, and collected one. The one that held shit together when it threatened to blow apart. Talking her down off the ledge while trying to keep both of them...and eventually Ovi...alive. Since the baby she'd changed. Her motherly instincts and her love for their child could never be matched by anyone else. But she had closed herself off in other ways. She became the strong and silent one. The one who always held her emotions in check. He figured it was all that time she spent helping him get back on his feet. What she'd seen and had to endure would harden anyone.

But he'd be lying if he didn't say he wasn't concerned. If he didn't find himself wishing for that emotional and broken girl she'd once been.

She was out there. And he knew where.

She was still back in Dhaka.

Still standing on that bridge.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake x OFC #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #I Found-Tyler Rake/Esme Rake

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heat-riser · 3 years

Text

Some weird analysis of when you knew me.

I’ve thought about doing this for a while. One part screaming into the void, one part for anyone who was on tumblr in it’s heyday and watched me be strange and into- frankly- the worst characters and really terrible ships. I’m 26 now and understand a bit more about myself after finally finding a good therapist who specialized in sexual trauma and delving into the deepest darkest parts. Maybe it’s part insight for people who were friends with my at the time- and by ‘at that time’, I guess I mean any point in my life up until a couple years ago. From around 5 years on- I was in a constant state of incredibly deep sadness and anxiety but was too numb to even really consciously feel it. I learned some of the worst things about people and became acquainted with some of the worst things a person can feel at 5, and then again multiple times around 9 due to rape by two different boys. The first, my family and people around me knew about pretty immediately. The second was completely unknown to people until recently. It’s not an easy thing telling your parents another neighbor boy who was a ‘friend’ raped you too. I can’t really explain properly how deeply this effects a person and how people don’t really understand it. Things as little as not being able to be outside my house without a jacket and full pants to cover my whole body because I internalized that showing your body is vulnerability opened up the possibility of sexualization and therefore- attack. All the way to now with everything being resurfaced and having nearly no sex drive and being unable to feel arousal without more anxiety coming in and overpowering the arousal feeling. It was recently recommended to me by my therapist to not play horror games because the feelings of arousal and fear are so tightly linked. I’ve been with the therapist for three years and anticipate at very least another 3-5 and she has clients who have been seeing her 10+ years for having experienced childhood sexual abuse. I can’t remember if I’ve talked publicly here about any of that but most of my friends are aware of the first one (it’s not really something I want to throw out there randomly and conversations in covid time are strange). I was only aware of the first one up until a couple years back. When talking about buried memories, how they come up, how to tell if they’re legit, I halfway thought “what if there was more” and felt sick to my stomach. One of the sure signs of a memory being true is an emotional response. I’m in the process of reclaiming the memories of the events involving the second neighbor boy. But point being- I learned the world was awful very early on and it became the background for all future development (sexual, social, self, etc. etc.). I began to numb myself after the first event and went through half of elementary school and middle school angry, sad, and hateful- I especially hated men, but also just the world at large. By high school, I had learned to shove all of that down. I can’t really recall feeling much of anything in high school. So the people that knew me at the time really only knew a weird ghost of a person. Then there’s this thing called trauma reenactment- where victims are drawn to things relating to the trauma situation. So this is what takes me to explaining the characters I was interested in. 1- Adachi. I now see as little more than a sad incel but it does say a lot about where I was at the time to be so fascinated with him. He shared my resentment towards the world, the idea that anyone who wasn’t depressed simply didn’t understand, and saw more of a problem with the world than his current state of being. Of course that was relatable. I very clearly remember in middle school believing people that weren’t depressed simply had no idea what was going on around them. Of course I thought that and still struggle with that mentality. All I had really known was deep despair and numbing myself from the world. I didn’t understand how other people didn’t realize that but now know what the emotional world I was living in was not typical of children. So here was someone that knew how bad everything around was and how bad the world felt and I clung onto him the same way I did my own idealizations. With what I’ve been processing more recently, the dude needed therapy and to unlearn that depression was cool and correct but had shown multiple times he was unwilling to challenge any of his issues and just started killing people. There were a lot of favorite characters through this but one that sticks out as another really fucked up example of where I was was Damon Gant. I look back at liking him as the ultimate symbol of trauma reenactment. He’s older, he had power, he was creepy, intimidating, unsettling, and controlling. Everything my predators had been to me at the time. So- all of those things were in a way intertwined with my own sexuality as they’re what I first learned with anything ‘sexual’. Some of my favorite ships are due to the same reasoning. Gant and Lana- again, kind of inherently controlling, imbalance of power, and ends horribly and tragically. I always found something intriguing and beautiful about the most horrific and sad feelings. And I’ll touch on it just for the record. Cyrus is big fucked up- but I think he is, though maybe incorrect, well intentioned with his main goal being what he believes will actually be better for everyone cause of his projection of the awful things he feels on everyone. He doesn’t go out of his way to hurt anyone and certainly doesn’t enjoy other people’s pain but rather wants to eliminate what he sees as the reason for people hurting others with and end justifies the means mindset. His numbing/attempts to numb, hatred of emotion, and hatred of people inflicting pain on others is all incredibly familiar and I’m certain a part of me in middle school knew that when picking him as a fave. As I progress, I’m more interested his potential to relearn people and start opening up to feeling. (Pokemon Master’s definitely more than hinted at him changing and I’m hoping that means they’ll go that route with remakes.) I should note that during my most ‘numb’ parts would sneak out and I would be very- and increasingly over time starting with 6th grade- suicidal and became addicted to cutting and self harm (which I realize now are both just further numbing techniques). I described the feeling at the time as a parasite controlling your brain and a part of yourself knowing you had to fight against it. There was a period I was certain of how I would die, it was just when I would finally snap. I should also say how much people are able to numb themselves. I can remember getting so anxious that my heart would race and the world felt fast- I would get to the point of gagging but can’t remember ‘feeling’ any ounce of anxiety consciously. When first becoming sexually active, I had extended, horrific anxiety that would have hospitalized me for a couple weeks if not for my mom being able to stay home with me (also out of work for a couple months and left addicted to xanax for a bit). And still didn’t quite believe her all the way when she suggested it was anxiety. And I sure as hell didn’t make any connections to any possible mental issues around sex. So I’ve ranted enough but saved this bit for the end cause it hits kinda hard. People tend to feel the same things they felt in locations. Curiosity got the best of me and I drove around parts of my childhood I spend a lot of time at and specific routes I would take. (It’s called state dependent memory if anyone’s interested). I’m learning just how much I was numb to everything and wondering just what it was I was covering up my whole life. This isn’t easy to really type out cause of how fucked it is with the realization that I didn’t really experience childhood to a degree. During my drive, past my high school, up near my friends houses, the route I would take coming back from college- I was deeply, and very profoundly sad in my core. Nothing near what a person should have felt through their childhood. I missed so much. And I’m sorry to my friends at the time who only got to know a strange, numb, trauma reenacting, ghost of myself. I’m not going to be able to relive those times in a better light but I can at very least do some work to prevent a future spent numb and profoundly sad. But my brain is finally allowing me to remember some things because it’s deemed that I can handle it, I’m learning more about myself and my past, learning how to listen to what my brain and body are telling me and why, and getting better at expressing grief and real, raw, sadness and a touch of deep-seated anger so I think I might be starting to turn this around.

#TW: rape #TW: self harm #TW: suicidal ideation #some explanation of why I liked the characters I liked #This was meant to be focused on the character thing but went all over the place

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