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writingbyshiloh · 2 years

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Strange Company [Raymond Reddington x Reader]

Authors Nore: My first fan fic! If you enjoy please send me a request for some feedback. This fic takes place during S1 E8. Word Count: 2.8+k

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You glanced in your coffee mug, hoping it would have been magically refilled. Unfortunately, it was still empty. Your class this morning – Terrisom Tactics in America – was cancelled due to a leak. Your afternoon class – Government and Terrison – was still going ahead, providing that the leak was fixed by then. This caused you to be stuck in limbo, unable to call the day a wash yet, so you remained on campus. You stood to fill your coffee cup but a call to your work phone caused you to sit back down.

“Dr. (L/N)’s office” You said into the phone.

“Hey (F/N), it's Liz. Listen, are you still in DC?” a voice on the other end said.

“Hey, Liz! Yes, I’m tenure track so I don’t think I’ll be leaving soon” you laugh. “What can I do you for?”

“Can you meet me at the diner on 18th St NW in 30 minutes?” Liz asked. You could hear the tension in her voice. Checking your watch you agreed, and she hung up the phone.

You arrive a few minutes early, scanning the dinner before you spot Liz sitting in a booth. The man next to her was unfamiliar but handsome. You gave her a wave as you walked over to the booth and slid in across from the two of them. You noticed as the man's eyes raked over your form, lingering slightly at your chest.

“Y/N, this is George Robinson, George, this is Prof. L/N. She is one of the leading terrorism experts.” Liz said finishing the introductions. You extended your hand for a handshake and George took it. You looked into his face, noticing how blue his eyes were up close. Realizing you had been shaking his hand for too long you quickly removed your own and felt heat rising to your face. George gave you a knowing smile.

“Do you remember when we were doing our undergrads?” Liz asked, your eyes snapping to her face.

“How could I forget? I’m surprised my liver survived” you joked. You met Liz in university, quickly becoming fast friends, pulling all-nighters to study, talk about crushes, and drink. You were the maid of honour at her wedding to Tom a few years ago.

“Have you had any contact with Nathaniel Wolff recently?” she asked, shifting into FBI mode. George studied your face while you rolled your eyes.

“No, thank god.” You replied. “Ever since the breakup, I haven’t been in contact with him”.

“He's calling himself General Ludd now if that rings any bells,” George said.

“I’m aware.” You said, now looking at George. “That was one of the reasons we broke up. I felt that readings from Marx or Gramsci would have been a better theoretical standpoint on his cause. He disagreed so –“ You started to say before Liz cut you off.

“I’m sorry, I know you love theory but we have to go. Thank you for meeting with us.” Liz said, standing to put her jacket on.

“I’d love to hear more. How about over dinner, at 8? I know this fantastic Italian place. The owner is a close friend of mine.” George said. You reached into your purse to take out a business card. He took it, glancing at it before smiling at you.

“Sounds like a date” you smiled back, as he grabbed his hat from the table.

“My driver will pick you up around 7:45, I'll call you when he arrives,” he said, placing his hat on his head, while Liz rolled her eyes waiting for him. Watching the two of them leave you realized that George didn’t tell you what he does for the FBI.

---

You glanced at the clock in your room as you finished putting on your jewelry. Stepping back you admired your reflection. Your hair and jewelry were just right, and your dress was sitting just how you wanted. Grabbing your purse from the dresser, you went into your front hall to find some shoes. Settling a pair from the closet you put them on and leave your apartment. Before you could open the door your phone buzzed. The number was unknown but George said he would be calling you around 7:45.

“Hello?” you said, answering the call on the third ring.

“Hello, Gorgeous.” A deep voice said on the other end, sending a jolt of arousal down your body. “Dembe should be outside, whenever you’re ready.” You walked to the window in your apartment, to see a sleek navy car parked with a handsome Black man standing outside.

“The navy car?” you asked.

“That would be the one” he chuckled. “I’ll see you soon”. He said hanging up the call.

You grabbed your purse and locked the door before making your way to the ground floor of the apartment. Outside, you saw Dembe outside the car, holding something in his hands. Catching his eye, he handed the object to you. It was a bouquet – orchards and peonies you thought – beautifully wrapped. You thank him for the flowers as he opens your door for you.

“I have an undergraduate degree in English” He spoke once you both were in the car. Soon you two fell into a conversation about universities you attended and classes you took. Quickly you arrived at the restaurant where Dembe put the car into park and opened the door for you.

Entering the restaurant you saw George immediately as he was the only person in the restaurant. When he saw you, he stood and approached. His eyes swept you up and down, lips curling into a smile.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you told him, trying to calm your first date nerves. “They're gorgeous”.

“Not as gorgeous as you, my dear” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you to the table, where a candle was lit in the center, and white wine was waiting in a bucket of ice.

“I took the liberty of ordering the wine” He said pulling out a chair for you. As you sat a soft thank you fell from your lips. He sat in the chair next to yours.

“Before the night gets away from us, I should say that my real name is Raymond Reddington. Goerge is an alias I use.” He said casually, pouring wine into your glass. You reached down and took a sip.

“Raymond Reddington” you repeated, liking the way it felt on your tongue.

“My friends call me Red” Reddington said, placing one of his hands onto of yours. “You can call me whatever you wish”.

A waiter soon delivered a menu, where you took Reddington's advice on what to order. Throughout the dinner, you filled him in on your undergraduate years with Liz, your career, and the problems you had with your undergraduate boyfriend Nathanial. In exchange, he told you about his career – financial broker for the elite – and an extremely funny story about a trip to Casablanca.

While you may have been nervous about the date, you were having a great time. Your head was fuzzy from the wine, the food was incredible, and the man you were with was a gentleman. You offered to pay for your half of the food, but he dismissed the notion with a wave. You tried to do the math on what the bill was but it gave up home when he placed a few one hundred dollar bills in the check holder. It stood in stark contrast to other dates you went on.

Still giggling from the wine and Red’s stories, he wrapped his arm around your waist to lead you out of the restaurant. He carried your flowers in his other hand. Stopping outside the doors, his arms moved to the small of your back. In response you lifted your arms to his neck, chest pressed against his.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” He murmured, eyes darting between your own eyes and lips.

“You’re not going to ask to come over?” You quietly asked, confusion flickering over your face. Did he not want a second date? Was he that old-fashioned?

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to see your place. Unfortunately the FBI has chipped me like a prize dog”. He said, rolling his shoulders slightly. You nodded slightly.

Gently, you pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge if you should kiss him again. Seconds later he kissed you with more urgency than the kiss you gave. His hand moved to your face, this thumb stroking your cheek. You kissed back, mouthing opening slightly.

A buzz on your phone caused you two to separate. You moved your hands down to the bag strapped across your shoulders. Red’s hand still rested on the small of your back. He must have read the frown on your face, as he asked what was wrong. You sighed, showing him your phone screen. He let out a chuckle, reading the text Liz sent you, telling you that she hoped you didn't go on the date with him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dembes's car pull up.

“Dembe will drive you home, I have to talk to the chef” Red said. He took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips as a way of saying goodbye.

---

The next morning, you almost tripped over a small package outside your door. On top of the package was a note which read ‘Hope to see you again. Maybe wear this the next time? – R’ in gold. Holding the note between your fingers, you opened the box. Inside, was a thin silver chain, with a silver circle hanging from the bottom. On the circle, a small letter R was engraved.

#raymond reddington #Raymond Reddington x reader #The blacklist x reader #my writing #the blacklist #the blacklist fanfiction #elizabeth keen

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fenristheorem · 3 years

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Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this.

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to.

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs.

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate. “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

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dramaticsnakes · 3 years

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The Revived - Chapter 17: An Old Friend

This is chapter 17 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo (briefly), Ranboo (briefly), George, Sapnap (briefly)

Word count: 3816

Cw: playful violence, overstepping boundaries, brief discussions of loneliness, tension between characters, food (technically)

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Silence lingered after Tubbo left. It loomed in the air as Wilbur stayed frozen in place.

He quietly sighed as a familiar ghost wandered into his thoughts, “So the door closing was Tubbo leaving?”

Wilbur quietly muttered, “Yeah.”

“I think we- you should go talk to him.”

Wilbur threw his head back in annoyance. “It’s not that simple.”

Ghostbur sighed, “I know, but they always say trying is half the battle.” The words were quieter than the air around them. Wilbur slumped against the wall for a moment.

“I think I should just leave.” Wilbur didn’t even think about the words, it was just a universal thought that hovered over his mind.

“You and Tubbo are a little rough right now, but Michael would still miss you.”

Wilbur let out a dry laugh. Ranboo barely knew him and Michael was just asked to go away from him. He pushed himself away from the wall, “How about we go on a small walk then?” The tiredness in his voice was present. Ghostbur was either too kind to point it out or he simply didn’t notice. Wilbur couldn’t guess which was more likely.

“We’re gonna come back though right?” Wilbur recognized hope in the ghost’s voice, one that he didn’t want to crush.

So instead of the truth, he muttered out, “Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, more so a slight twist on the answer Ghostbur wanted. Besides, Ghostbur probably didn’t have the attention span to even think about coming back. Wilbur was glad Ghostbur couldn’t hear his thoughts.

He opened the door to Michael’s room and proceeded to walk down the stairs slowly. He noticed the lack of sound in the house, his quiet footsteps echoing slightly. The air felt tight in his chest as he looked around.

He peaked around the stairs, seeing a distant room that Ranboo was in. His back was turned from Wilbur as two pale arms were wrapped around his torso. He quickly realized it was probably a hug being exchanged between the two. He felt an awkwardness that persisted in his mind any time he saw Ranboo and Tubbo interact. It made him realize just how much he desired the past. Even if it wasn’t as good as now, with all the fighting and arguing, it felt much better than this solitude that lingered around him.

Besides, the quickest way to form a connection with someone was through a shared enemy. He supposed he was the enemy for a lot of people.

He tore his eyes away from the scene as he walked to the front door of the house, closing the door silently behind him.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once he was outside again. The cold was a nice refresher to the stale air that filled the house. He walked peacefully in the snow, not even noticing that he was walking to the nether portal before he was right in front of it. He stopped his actions when he realized, quickly thinking through the pros and cons of just leaving.

Michael was too little to properly acknowledge who he was. Ranboo wasn’t fond of him. Tubbo couldn’t stand him.

It was all to be expected, and Wilbur had been a fool for letting comfort settle even for just a moment. One of the most important lessons from the wars, and the election, was that things were constantly moving along. Things had been moving along without Wilbur for a long time now, even if it wasn’t for as long as he’d originally anticipated. It occurred to him that he’d sought refuge with Tubbo far too many times since he was revived. A hint of a home that no longer existed. Tubbo had treated Wilbur decently ever since they had their first proper conversation.

Wilbur, the fool he’d apparently become, had accepted every crumb of it like a starving dog. He’d relied on the friendly banter and the mansion with open doors. He’d relied on the voice of the kind ghost within his mind, that was forced to spend time with him anyhow. Wilbur had taken every bit of kindness from the people who merely tolerated him, and wasn’t that pathetic? That wasn’t what Wilbur Soot was supposed to stand for. He used to be so much stronger than that, holding the world in his own hands, and being the commander of a nation, rather than just a pathetic shell desperately seeking kindness and safety.

He stepped into the nether portal, the whisps of it filling his mind.

He wandered through the scalding heat absentmindedly, before the familiar voice of the ghost chimed in. “Wait, are you in the nether?”

Wilbur slowed down for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Oh…” Ghostbur said, his voice going much quieter, “You didn’t tell me.”

Wilbur inhaled sharply at the realization. He was moments away from cursing but stopped himself in time. He facepalmed and groaned at his own forgetfulness, “Shoot, I forgot.”

There was hesitance in the air and no immediate response.

“Sorry,” Wilbur said, and he meant it. Promises meant nothing, but apparently, Wilbur couldn’t even hold up the simplest ones. The ones that it would cause nothing constructive to break.

“It’s okay- but…” Ghostbur trailed off slightly.

“Yeah?” Wilbur said, continuing across the bridge.

“Are we…” Ghostbur sounded like he was trying to find the right words, “Are we actually going back to Tubbo and Ranboo?”

Wilbur let out a breath. “I mean, yeah,” he said with a shrug. The truth was, he had little to no idea where exactly he was going, or where he was returning. Everything was a mess in his mind.

“Then why are you going to the nether?” Ghostbur asked, “Oh, do you just really like walking?”

“Uhhh.” Wilbur rubbed the side of his head with a hand as if it would clear the fog in his mind, and allow him to speak words that made any sort of sense. “I just wanted to check on Friend?” he said, realizing it sounded far too much like a question, and was far too close to a lie, “I was gonna surprise you. But I don’t want you to be worried.” He let a smile slip across his lips on instinct, even if Ghostbur couldn’t see it.

The excited gasp from Ghostbur indicated that Wilbur had said the right thing. That was the most important part. Why exactly it ached in his chest, however, was unknown. “Oh yay! I love him so much.” Ghostbur said happily, sounding relieved, “You’re such a good friend. I don’t know why I didn’t trust you!”

Wilbur hid the grim darkness settling in his throat at those words with a breathless chuckle. “Y-yeah.” he simply said, as he continued walking towards the next portal.

Upon his arrival at the ruins of L’Manberg again, Wilbur realized the promise held little to no weight at all. The sheep wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and that shouldn’t have been surprising to him whatsoever. He gratingly remembered the way Tommy had stayed close to it, trying to drag it away from Wilbur, as the air around them grew more and more desperate. He remembered the fear in the boy’s eyes, and the memory sent a numbing strike of a blade through his stomach. For a moment, the pain on his face seemed almost entirely fresh again.

It was kind of funny too. How out of all the places on the server, one he’d found himself repeatedly returning to, was his own unfinished symphony. Perhaps the thought to finish it remained too loud in his mind.

But he had other priorities, ones that seemed to be fleeing him quickly. The ones that danced around his mind tauntingly. At first, he considered a new nation or even just a community that united under his rule. That required people he didn’t have. He tried to be part of a family or just making friends in general. That required people that he didn’t have. He wanted Ghostbur to still be able to experience life through him. That required people he didn’t fucking have.

As if he needed them. He spent thirteen and a half years in limbo. He could spend some time by himself solving his own problems.

So he settled on an objective that no one else had, and he didn’t need much help to achieve. Getting Ghostbur out of his mind. He didn’t know if it was even possible, yet it felt nice to have a mission for once instead of wandering aimlessly and interacting with whoever he saw first.

He laid out the bullet points in his mind. He wanted to start with the library, but Tubbo’s trust in him was already so thin. He thought about Dream, but the man was locked behind bars. He considered the thought of someone who knew Dream, which didn’t seem to have any immediate cons.

He ran through his mind of who knew Dream well. He roughly guessed anyone that was his ally knew him decently, but from there it was the question of who would tell him what they knew.

He decided to walk out of the crater of L’Manberg and closer to the town. The walk was quite nice as he occasionally described the view for Ghostbur. There wasn’t much detail, just the tree leaves gently swaying and how the shapes of shadows the buildings left looked.

“Are there clouds in the sky?”

Wilbur looked up for a moment, turning around slightly. “Not that I can see.” When he looked back down, he saw a person wearing a blue shirt in the distance. He tilted his head as he walked, turned on the path, and walked closer to them. It took him a while to identify them due to the sun in his eyes, but he eventually realized it was George. The George that was very close to Dream and presumably wasn’t on negative terms with Wilbur. The George that could be quite useful. He slipped a small smile onto his face as he jogged towards the man. He muttered towards Ghostbur, the smile showing in his voice, “Slight change of plans, Ghostie. We’re chatting with an old friend.”

Ghostbur gasped, “Oh which one?”

George heard Wilbur’s footsteps and turned towards the sound. A confused smile came across his face, but he did a small wave nonetheless. When Wilbur arrived where George was as he happily exclaimed, “George, it’s been forever!” He held a hand out and when George latched onto it, he pulled them both in for a quick hug. It burned so wonderfully, but Wilbur made himself pull away. “How have you been?” George still seemed shocked, “I- I’ve been good, but you’re alive!” He ran a hand through his hair, slightly messing it up along the way.

Wilbur grinned at him, “Yeah! I’m back and better than ever.”

“Wow, that’s really great. Glad to see you again,” he said, looking at him with a lot of disbelief, as if he was still processing the sight, but seemingly didn’t intend to question him too much about it. That was a nice change of pace. It wasn’t as if Wilbur understood either.

Wilbur nodded, “You as well. Where you heading?”

George shrugged, “Mostly just taking a walk. You?”

“Same.”

“You wanna catch up? Oh- you’ve gotta see the prank I’m pulling on Tommy.”

“I’ll come along and see it myself.” George started walking again, and Wilbur followed suit. George was on his side- literally and figuratively- all he had to do was to gently bring up Dream and propose a few questions. It didn’t seem too difficult. So he continued with George, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily between them. They ended up at Tommy’s house rather quickly. Perhaps Wilbur was having a pleasant conversation for once.

Tommy’s house was small and made of dirt, something that surprised Wilbur quite a bit. Small and underwhelming, even after so long, and Wilbur wondered why Tommy still lingered there. A strange, very small part of him almost hoped that the house would expand. Wilbur left too much of a remarkable impact for Tommy to reside in somewhere so small and meaningless.

George took off his backpack once they were there, carefully placing it on the floor. He pulled out two cartons of eggs. He snickered as he handed one carton to Wilbur and kept one for himself. He grinned at Wilbur, as he picked up one, throwing it at Tommy’s house with force, as it splattered on the dirt wall.

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows with slight surprise as he opened the carton, picking out an egg from inside when he had a bad feeling in his chest. It almost stabbed him out of nowhere, a pang of strong guilt about an action he hadn’t even committed yet.

Yet, what had Tommy done for him?

The thought settled like his own grip on a gun that he knew he knew exactly how to use. A familiar lack of faith in those around him, because they knew Wilbur was a villain, just as he knew himself. Once everything went wrong they would inevitably turn against him. He knew as much. It had been proven to him time and time again. He clenched the egg for a moment, accidentally creating a small crack in its surface, as George was already halfway through his carton. He turned to Wilbur, a big grin on his face. “Come on! The guy’ll be furious, it’ll be hilarious.”

George looked at Wilbur for a long moment, the grin barely fading, but wavering just a little. Wilbur huffed, and threw the egg towards the house. It landed with a faint ‘crack’, splattering all over the bottom of the wall. A smirk lingered on Wilbur’s lips, as George laughed.

Though the feeling in his chest stayed just the same, because what exactly was Wilbur trying to gain? He remembered the sting of Tommy’s eyes, glaring at him, as if Wilbur was everything that was wrong in the world.

We were like family.

A lot of good that did them.

He picked up another egg, and threw it at the house with a little more force, though as it cracked against the wall, he noticed his hand was shaking. George shouted over to him, “Yeah, like that!”

“What are you doing?” Ghostbur asked. Wilbur was thankful he couldn’t reply.

He held another egg, his gaze settling on George for a moment. He stared for a second too long as he soon released it. The throw coming off weaker than he intended. George’s voice was one parallel to an eye roll, “Oh, C’mon. The leader of L’Manberg can throw better than that.” George moved closer to Wilbur, standing right next to him. He raised his eyebrows, “Do I seriously need to teach you how to throw something?”

Wilbur scoffed, “Oh you wish.” On impulse, he threw the egg directly at George’s shirt. He felt that familiar guilt for a moment. The one that foreshadowed George leaving just like everyone else. But in the moment, everything was fine.

George just chuckled as he dramatically complained, “My favorite shirt!” He took an egg from his carton and smashed it on Wilbur’s face. Wilbur wiped off the egg yolk and cracked shell, starting to slowly approach George.

“Wilbur, no,” George’s laugh swirled in Wilbur’s mind. Wilbur quickly ran up to him, effectively tackling him as he was pinned. Wilbur didn’t hesitate to smash the egg in George’s face.

George groaned, “Dream, why do you always have to do this?” He chuckled near the end as Wilbur’s grin dimed.

“Dream?”

George stopped smiling instantly, a look of recoil coming across his face. “Sorry, sorry, I just saw the fingerless gloves for a moment. I…” George gently sighed, “Let’s just pretend it never happened.” Wilbur distantly nodded. Another person was only around him because of someone he was not. Wilbur tried to hide how hurt he felt instead grabbing another egg and gently handing it to George. The man with goggles nodded and threw the egg hard on the front wall.

It almost reminded Wilbur of simpler times. Where pranks were pulled in good fun, with mild anger following, soon to be forgotten. When grudges were minor and actions didn’t turn into blood feuds. Though there was something in the way George looked at the house, that made Wilbur feel that this wasn’t just done in good fun. Few things were anymore. That was one thing that had been different, even last time Wilbur was alive. “What are you standing around for?” George asked, “I’m colorblind and I can see several eggs left in your carton.”

George was looking at Wilbur as if it was a test. If there was anything Wilbur fucking hated it was being tested. It indicated that someone else had the upper hand, and was going to use it against him, if he didn’t live up to their expectations. Wilbur caught himself scowling for a moment, before smiling lightly. “Yeah, sure.” He said, “Though I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

George threw his last egg, cracking it against the window with no hesitation. “Yeah? What is it?” he asked absentmindedly.

Wilbur let out a sharp breath, clenching the carton in his hand. He liked the way it slowly broke under his command. “You know how I was… Revived?”

George raised an eyebrow, dropping the empty carton on the ground. He laughed, “Yeah? I’m looking at you right now.”

“Right,” Wilbur said, straightening his back, and cracking his neck, as he threw his cartoon towards the house, most of the eggs breaking on the ground. George watched confusedly. “And I suppose you are aware that Dream was the one who did it?”

George frowned, the look in his eyes changing abruptly. “He did?”

It was the look of someone who’d suffered a loss, and it was strange, to see that in regards to Dream. It was strange because the look was given because of a person everyone else seemed to have agreed to hate with little hesitation. “Yes,” Wilbur confirmed, stepping a bit closer. George stood his ground. “Are you sure you didn’t know?”

George shook his head and shrugged, “How should I know? The guy’s in jail.”

Wilbur knew enough about George, to recognize when he was on the defensive. He huffed. “Even if you didn’t know that, I was just wondering if you knew anything else?” He watched George take a step back, and it sparked something in Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur being in control. The powerful commander, who won back L’Manberg, and declared it independent. The one whose voice everyone listened to during the war meetings. “Dream was your friend, wasn’t he? If anyone knew about his ability to revive people beforehand, surely it’d be you?”

Hurt settled on George’s face. He shook his head. “I didn’t know anything.”

“Have you visited him yet?” Wilbur asked, barely acknowledging George’s words. Information. He needed information, and he would get it this time around. “I’m sure he misses you.”

That seemed to strike a nerve, as George’s eyes widened for a moment. He closed them and shook his head against the ground. “No,” he said, sounding far too much like someone who tried to sound like they didn’t care.

The realization that George was uncomfortable, hit Wilbur early on. It reminded him of the way Tommy scowled at him. The quiet dismissal of Wilbur’s questions.

Yet what did Wilbur care about exactly?

He’d been desperately cowering for so long, seeking approval, and any crumb of tolerance of his presence. And George had tolerated him, even if some of it was just a moment of remembering someone he lost. It was funny how George, his old enemy, seemed to have any respect left for Wilbur.

Though it wasn’t respect. Not really. George was testing Wilbur, and Wilbur was going to test him back. Wilbur was no longer going to rely on those who tried to care about the new him. About the him, who had spent thirteen and a half years at a train station, yet hadn’t changed at all. They were expecting someone else, and that was fine. Perhaps Wilbur shouldn't have expected them to even care in the first place. It was too naïve of a goal and much too optimistic for his liking. It was almost similar to the blinded confidence he possessed in Pogtopia, allowing help to be given to him with nothing to be given in return, only to be unsurprisingly betrayed in the end. The cycle repeated until he betrayed himself. A tragic flaw, a dramatic end, an end to a life-long monologue- call it what it was, but he was alone.

In Pogtopia, Wilbur had realized he was alone too far in.

In the ruins of L’Manberg, by the house of his old right hand man, years and months later, Wilbur had gotten used to that feeling.

“Why don’t you let me know what happened while I was gone? Fill me in from another side of history! Because the wars don’t matter anymore, George. I just want to know what I missed.” Wilbur smirked, as he watched George shake just slightly. Wilbur stepped closer, George walking backwards towards Tommy’s house. “Surely that isn’t so hard?”

“I have nothing to do with him anymore, you understand? He’s in prison, and you’re alive.” George said, the words sounding sharp, “That’s all I know.”

“Come on, surely I’m not that untrustworthy?” Wilbur tried to make it sound like a joke, “Tell me, was it a relief when I was gone? Did it lift any weights off your shoulders? Off of Dream’s?” The comment was barely related, though it came out of Wilbur, as if it had been urging to for years. A little requiem from an enemy. Not that Wilbur had considered George much of an enemy back then, but perhaps to the other side it was different.

He was surprised when George looked him straight in the eyes. While George looked so small as he stood there, and despite how his voice wavered, for a moment he almost looked confident. “I didn’t want you to die. You were a good guy,” George said. “I can tell you that much.”

Wilbur almost didn’t comprehend the words. His face twisting strangely, as he watched George standing right by the wall, caught up in a corner. The words made no sense at all, because that wasn’t how anyone was supposed to view him. Not someone from another side. It was almost laughable, that George knew so very little about Wilbur. Yet, for a brief moment, he was at a loss of words.

“What the fuck is happening?” a new voice chimed in.

Wilbur turned his head abruptly, surprised that anyone was around. He was met by the sight of Sapnap, looking at the scene with confusion and concern.

#dream smp #dsmp #c!wilbur #ghostbur #revivedbur #c!george #c!georgenotfound #fanficion #fanfic #fic #The Revived

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thatordinaryoddity · 3 years

Text

FINAL: Once In A Blue Goddamn Moon

a 💗 Jamie & Dani Fanfiction 💗 [The Haunting Of Bly Manor, Netflix 2020]

written by thatordinaryoddity

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475423/chapters/67277026

Rating: K+

Words: ~9,5k

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Status: Complete (will be uploaded in three chapters + Prologue)

Summary: Jamie leaves Flora’s weeding more wrapped up in her thoughts than usual. In all those years, there hadn’t been a day without thinking of her deceased lover Dani. But sometimes, once in a blue goddamn moon, events coincide in an exceptional, odd way.

A/N: So guys, that's it, we're done - THE END! Hope you liked it at least a little :) Actually, I haven't written anything in YEARS but this pairing stole my heart and I just needed a coping mechanism! *sobs* Because their story is quite dramatic in the show, I decided against something too fluffy and kept that overall drama feeling. Also, I like dramatic stuff over pure romance when it comes to my reading and writing preferences. But each to their own I guess.

As always - stay awesome, stay healthy and leave me any form of feedback as it is very much appreciated! ps. the "dear" in the chapter title isn't a spelling mistake. It's on purpose.

The Dear In The Headlights

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The day had already begun when Jamie was finally able to stand back up from the ice cold concrete floor. All these hours crying left her eyes reddened and her head aching. The dull feeling inside her head and the emptiness in her chest were suddenly there again – stronger than ever before. She let one last gaze wander across the rooftop garden, in hope of finding Dani still around somewhere, but was disappointed and decided to head back inside the apartment. Teddy was still sleeping on the couch next to his wheelchair. Jamie took the check patterned blanket and covered the old man up to his neck. She wondered if he had noticed the happenings in the night or slept through all of it. Either way, she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Without further ado, she quickly took her coat and scarf and left the apartment.

The air was suddenly cold again, just like everything around and inside her was cold now - her lungs were frozen, her heart was frozen even more. Her hands, which were warmed by her lover’s only a few hours ago, had also turned to blocks of ice. Breathing in that chill air felt hard as there was a stinging feeling inside her chest.

The sun had already started to brighten the quiet lane she was walking along, which was so nicely framed by autumn coloured trees. Jamie could already tell it was going to be a beautiful day, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with all the sadness inside her. All the happiness and joy in her life seemed to have vanished along with Dani that fateful morning.

Her head was so full of thoughts. The green-eyed woman tried to recall every moment she had spent with Dani that night. She tried to ingrain the memories inside her brain, inside her flesh, to make sure, they would remain as vibrant as they were. She kept trying to tell herself that Dani wasn’t gone, that she would always be there, but still, it couldn’t even compare to actually holding her beloved in her arms.

Despite the good transport connections from Teddy’s place to her own apartment and the chilly autumn air, Jamie decided to walk. It wasn’t far, only about fifteen minutes by foot, and the route was lovely and quiet. Maybe, the fresh air could take her thoughts off last night.

She came by the little park again. She had always loved this spot for its sad, romantic vibe and she had always felt attracted to it because of that. Through the colours of autumn the little park seemed like a painting, almost too kitschy to her. A while ago, she had started to dislike the colder seasons because all the plants and flowers would go to sleep, leaving her more depressed than usual. That day, however, that colourful autumn decay somehow called to her in a bittersweet way. She stood there, in front of the park, just for a few minutes, thinking how pretty all of that would have been with Dani by her side.

Back when her lover had still been with her, she had liked all the seasons. She hadn’t cared if it was snowing or raining outside since Dani used to be the sunshine in her life, keeping her warm and happy. As she continued her walk home, Jamie wondered if she would ever be able to get over this loss of not being able to fall asleep next to Dani, of having dinner all alone, of admiring colourful trees in the charming park by herself. And in her mind she knew that the answer would be no. Never.

She was almost home - if she had been paying attention she would have been able to see her house up the street. Despite her trying, the walk hadn’t helped much to silence her thoughts. They were still screaming and rampaging around inside her head, so loudly, that she didn’t even hear that deep, loud honking noise behind her. It was there, two or maybe three times, before she was finally pulled out of her thoughts and looked behind her. But it was too late by then, and Jamie was already staring right into the bus driver’s eyes. A split-second later, her surroundings darkened and all she could feel was a dull pain when her body hit the ground hard.

She didn’t understand what was going on. It felt like she was slipping into a deep sleep, but she could hear outraged voices that seemed far away. Then she felt someone touching her and it hurt. She opened her eyes, just a smidge, and saw faces before a background of blue sky above. Those people kept talking to her but she couldn’t catch what they were saying. She turned her head and saw blood streaming next to her. The pool of blood slowly increased its size and her eyes darkened again.

Red.

It was as if her whole surroundings were tinted in that faded reddish colour. As if a sheer haze lingered over her mind and body. As if she had developed some sort of colour-blindness. Every contrast and every detail were there, but it seemed like some sort of strange, twisted, alternate reality.

Red.

The colour was faded and vibrant at the same time, it was dark like a rose but also bright like the warmth of a chimney fire. It was like a restless dream, like a headache, like a buzz, like a lover’s first kiss – a feeling like your knees were about to give in. She looked down to her feet, scrutinizing her body. Placing one hand on the back of her head.

Red.

She herself was dyed in that colour. Her clothes, her skin. And all felt so dull, so empty, so hollow. Her ears rang in a deep pitch, her whole head seemed to vibrate. The other hand raised in front of her face, she looked past her fingers which were slowly moving, trying to wake herself up from this reverie. Was she dreaming? Was this even real?

Red.

She turned, noticing that there was absolutely nothing. Just one instant earlier, she was standing there beside that suburban lane, surrounded by trees painted in those beautiful auburn colours from the onset of autumn. Those gloomy streetlamps just there, about to go to sleep, as the new day had already awoke. She turned again, more hectically this time. And again there was only this colour which seemed to have devoured everything around her.

Red.

Then, suddenly, this strange noise inside her head stopped, shattered like glass as it was interrupted by a voice, unknown yet somehow familiar. She turned again, trying to figure out where the voice had echoed from in all this nothingness. And the red was gone.

“I’m surprised to see you here!”

Frowning, she eyed the young man in front of her. Even if she had never seen him in person, only on a few old pictures, she knew exactly who he was. Nevertheless, she somehow didn’t understand why she was here, in that pitch black nothingness, with him. And she tried to figure out why the hell he seemed to know who she was.

“Where am I??” she asked quite frantic. “What’s this all about??”

With a smirk on his face, the man adjusted his circular spectacles: “You tell me. I bet you know what this is all about. Actually, I’m not allowed to tell you… you have to grasp that on your own, I’m afraid.”

“I… Am I… dead??” She touched the back of her head again, suddenly remembering all the pain she had felt, just a second ago it seemed. The memory of the accident flushed over her.

“That… bus…” Jamie was talking more to herself than to the man in front of her. “The people, all the panic… all the blood!” Red – the word echoed inside her brain. Shocked, she suddenly looked directly into the man’s eyes. “I am dead, aren’t I??”

“Wow… you’re very quick! It took me months to figure that out!” Slowly, he took a few steps towards her. “So yeah, your brain was mushed… but it’s not that bad!” He laughed as if it was the most common small talk between them. “It was the same with me really, but don’t worry - you won’t be able to tell, there won’t be scars at all! Maybe your vision will blur now and then, but it’s nothing you couldn’t get used to. At least, that’s what it’s like for me.” The young man touched the back of his head as well, smiling friendly at Jamie. “So… welcome to the limbo!” With a grin, he stretched his arms out in front of him, slightly bowing, as a gesture of welcoming her. “It’s a pretty boring place to be honest…” He rolled his eyes and looked around into the black nothingness surrounding them.

Jamie was quite confused and couldn’t believe that the scene presented to her was real. What the hell was she doing here? Was this the afterlife? Was that really all there was to it??? Heavily blinking, she faced the man: “What are we doing here? Why are we here together?? Are we stuck?”

As he was slowly pacing up and down in front of her, he laughed once more, adjusting his glasses again like it was some sort of nervous tick: “Again… you tell me! I honestly don’t know why you’ve ended up here. I would’ve thought you’d pass on the very minute you died!” He eyed her through the rim of his glasses. “Normally, the only thing preventing you from passing on is if there’s still something you have to take care of… So I dunno…”

Jamie was thinking hard. Could he be right? Was there still something she had to do? Her eyes wandered to this man… What was his name again? Edward? No… Eddie?… Edmund! But that insight didn't get her much further. Why am I here??

“I… I don’t know…” She really didn’t. No matter how hard she tried, Jamie couldn’t make sense of what she was supposed to do and why she had stranded here. Suddenly, she remembered the words the young man in front of her had said when she appeared: “How the bloody hell did you know who I was??” she snapped. With a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, she fixated the man like prey.

“Wow, easy! I’m not your foe!” With a sheepish grin, he took a step back. “I’ve seen you… years ago, one of the many times I’ve visited her… Danielle. That’s when I realised that you and her were… you know…” Suddenly, his stupid smile faded and Jamie could see that there was a great deal of sadness in his eyes. She knew that sort of look, knew it very well, as it was the same expression she used to see when she stared at her own reflection in water surfaces. It was the look of a broken heart, of deep desperation and longing for a love that could no longer be, and it spoke volumes to her when she recognised it on the young man’s face. Slowly, her purpose here became very clear to Jamie and she understood why she had ended up here with Edmund: This was about Dani. The green-eyed woman felt it in her bones, like some kind of instinct. She wants me to do this, to sort things out for her, because she wasn’t able to. That’s why I’m here with him. I need to let him know he has to move on, away from this place.

“Well, mate…” she began, “…some things are just not meant to be! Sometimes, you just have to move on and… you know… accept things as they are.” With an understanding, faint smile she looked at the man who was staring down at his feet. “Dani was haunted by you! You scared her by showing up, and you wouldn’t stop. You made it a lot harder for her to deal with what had happened, because you wouldn’t let go…”

The man took off his glasses and started to rub his eyes, his movement was followed by a silent sob. “I know, but I missed her so much! She was the love of my life and suddenly she locked me out. It was just too much to bear, and then the accident happened…But even now, I’m still not able to talk to her because she’s keeping me out… I just can’t get to her!”

Jamie came closer to the man, carefully placing her hand on his shoulder: “Dani loved you, I’m sure of it, but… sometimes people change! At some point in your lives, you were in love but that time is gone. And if the accident hadn’t happened, I’m certain that Dani would still love you to this day, only in a different way… you know… like family. There really isn’t much to do about it… it just wasn’t meant to be. And I swear to God that you will always be a part of her heart, but maybe not in the way it used to be…”

With another sob, he looked into the green eyes: “Thank you… I can see why she has chosen you. But I’ll never stop loving her!”

“I know… neither will I. But still, you have to let her go, Edmund! Or do you really want to spend the rest of eternity in this ugly place? Let go… search for a happy memory to live in and unravel those knots you have tangled yourself in!” The man slowly started nodding his head as he wiped the tears from his eyes, putting on his spectacles again: “You’re right… Now that you are here too, Danielle will continue to block me out either way… but you, you should go to her now.” He tried to hold his head up high, tried to seem stronger than he was in that very moment.

Jamie felt deepest empathy for the man, because somehow, they both shared the same fate, with the only difference being that her love for Dani wasn’t a dead end. Unlike Edmund, she already knew which happy place would await her on the other side, that she would finally be reunited with her lover again. However, both of them knew what grief and loss and pain truly meant.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll go now… and you… you should do the same!” said Jamie.

He nodded again, raising his hand to her to say goodbye: “Give her my regards!”

“I will.” she replied, watching another ghostly figure fade away in front of her.

It was a sunny summer’s day, the meadows and fields that surrounded the old house blossomed and showed their most beautiful colours, a mild breeze of air was swaying the corn. Everything seemed calm and familiar, the world seemed in order.

Jamie sat on the soft, grassy ground and reclined against the strong, centuries-old trunk of the willow behind her. Her eyes were wandering over the wide wheat field which was coloured golden by the sunbeams. Right next to it lay a field full of cornflowers, blooming in the deepest blue. The panorama was amazing and was soothing to her mind.

In the near distance, the young woman saw her lover in the fruit orchard, picking apples for the strudel she wanted to make later. Her shiny blonde hair was a nice contrast to the red apples that one could even spot from afar on the trees.

A happy smile formed on her lips when she saw Dani in that lovely overall and with the sweet little straw hat on. The beauty of the scene made her heart beat faster. How lucky she was to have this wonderful, kind human being around her. The brown-haired woman never knew it was possible to love someone as much as she loved Dani. She was her moon, her sun and her stars all wrapped into one person and she couldn’t be happier about them being together again – about them leading the ‘life’ they had always dreamed about.

After a while, Dani took note of the glances from her lover, so she gleefully grinned and waved to her: “Do you care to give me some company, picking those apples?” Jamie grinned widely. “I’d love nothing more than that, Poppins!”

And they continued to be happy forever in this memory they had created for themselves many, many years ago, when they both were young and full of dreams.

The End.

#jamie x dani #the haunting of bly manor #damie #amelia eve #victoria pedretti #dani clayton #jamie the gardener #jamie and dani #jamie and dani fanfic #Jamie and Danielle #jamie x danielle #carla gugino #the haunting #the haunting of hill house #hill house #bly manor #lesbian fanfiction #lgbtq netflix

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nalu4emily · 4 years

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The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 7

Summary: Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff/multi-chapter

It was early afternoon by the time the little family had left for the guild. Natsu, being a bit quieter than usual, still couldn't shake what had been playing on his mind all morning. Usually, he would talk to Lucy about anything, but this was unknown territory. He didn't want to upset her, but this was going to end badly, he could just tell.

They hadn't discussed work since returning with Haru and he just didn't know what to do about it. His head was spinning from all the thinking and it was making his stomach churn. Stress was something he use to just pass off with his act now, think later tactic, but now he had others to consider. He'd gladly take on a hundred Acnologia's then have to think about all of this, he was better with actions.

Speaking of, fighting was an excellent stress reliever, what a great way to clear his head. He knew exactly what he was going to do once they reached the guild. He hoped Gray would be there so he could punch seven colours of shit out of him and then anyone else who was willing. Within minutes of arriving, Natsu had spotted Gray, ran over to him and swung the first punch and the rest was history.

Lucy shook her head at the fire breather's antics and chose to stay out of the way. She walked over to the bar and sat with some of the other girls who also hadn't joined the mayhem. Haru had woken up from all the noise and was being passed from person to person, all commenting on how well he was doing. Happy as Lucy was to hear all of the nice compliments about the baby and what a good job her and Natsu were doing, she wasn't really paying attention, too busy watching Natsu be beaten and scolded by Erza.

It sounded silly, but Lucy felt a little strange without the fire mages company. They had spent the last two weeks with each other and she'd gotten use to his constant presence, to the point where she missed him being near her. It was nonsensical, there he was as clear as day, and yet she felt so distant from him.

She could see that their friendship was slowly evolving, they had shared many moments recently with each other that wouldn't be considered friendly, the hand holding, the cuddling, the kissing, it had all become very real once they'd started living together.

There was only one thing missing though, because people just kept interrupting them. She wished she could have kissed him properly last night before Happy, yet again, ruined it all. His lips had felt so good on hers, she could only imagine what they would feel like on other parts of her body…

"See something you like?" Mira giggled as she happily watched the spirit mage ogle the dragon slayer. "Or do I really need to ask?"

"Huh? Oh, I was, er-" Snapping out of her lust filled thoughts, with the biggest blush on her face and little sweat droplets forming on her brow. "I don't know what you're talking about." She said dismissively, turning to face them directly.

"Sure. Is that what you tell yourself when you're cuddled up to him? Or cook him dinner? Or when you sit in his lap and kiss him?" Cana wiggled her eyebrows and laughed at poor Lucy's mortified face.

"What?! Who told you all of that?!" Lucy cried out. She couldn't hide the horror from her voice. Thinking about it for a moment, she didn't really need to ask who'd told them, it was kinda obvious and she was going to kill him.

"So it is true? I knew it! A certain little blue birdy told Mira and naturally everyone now knows." Levy sniggered. Lucy couldn't believe how quickly information passed through the guild, especially where the 'blue birdy' and she demon were involved. He'd only arrived at the guild not minutes before they had.

"Guys, I'm not sure what Happy told you but I think you're mistak-"

"So what was the kiss like?" Levy interrupted, ignoring Lucy's obvious uneasiness.

"W-We didn't ki-" Lucy stuttered, why was it so hard to speak all of a sudden? She'd started to sweat profusely, what if Natsu overheard? How could she face him then, or anyone for that matter?

"You guys are too cute!" Lisanna blurted in her enthusiasm, not listening to Lucy either. "I think Natsu should propose to you and you can both just get married already."

"You'd look gorgeous in a wedding dress, Lucy. I have plenty to choose from." Erza added as she walked over from the brawl she'd just put an end to.

"G-Guys, You're getting too carried away! I'm not getting married and what Happy saw yesterday isn't what you think, it was just a peck, that's all." Lucy interjected, noticing the disappointment on her friends faces. She couldn't hide the fragility in her voice, she wanted them to leave it be now.

Wendy gasped and went bright red herself at what she was hearing, "Oh my, that's still a kiss though isn't it?"

"Well, it's not the type of kiss the others are thinking about because I've never actually done that before." Lucy said quietly, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.

"Hold up! You've never kissed anyone? Not ever?!" Cana yelled in her shock. All of the girls turned to her, dumbfounded by the blonde's confession. "But you've had boyfriend's though, right? Surely you must have done something with them?"

"I haven't had a boyfriend before either. I've only ever been on a few dates that's all, and they've always ended badly." With no thanks to Natsu she might add.

Lucy could feel her embarrassment bubbling at the surface about to spill over, starting to fiddle with the hem of her top as she looked away from all of their surprised faces. She knew they were just shocked by what she'd accidentally told them, but it was something she felt very sensitive over. She had spent so long yearning for Natsu that she'd not bothered to look elsewhere. Was it so wrong to only want one person?

"Even Juvia has kissed other guys and had boyfriends before, but that was before she met her darling Gray and now we kiss all the time, amongst other things." Juvia beamed, triumph evident on her face.

Well, that proves it then, even Juvia, who was infatuated with Gray, had been with others before. Lucy hadn't realised how far behind she was when it came to romance or sex. Was she really the only one? What about Natsu? She felt a pang of jealousy at the thought that even he had been with other girls before, and yet it almost seemed stupid because he wasn't one to overly show any interest in the opposite sex. It'd only been recently that he'd started talking about it, and even then it was still far and in between.

It almost seemed funny that she could imagine him being fiery in the bedroom, she thought of that quite often, yet she couldn't see him being all lovey dovey with someone, or doing the romance thing at all. He was a doer rather than a thinker and tended to act on impulse, so it was a possibility that the mood had struck him on occasion and he'd acted upon it. It made her feel a little sick just thinking about it, that was a side to him that was shut off to everyone and she didn't know whether it was on purpose or just through lack of interest.

Why was he so damn confusing? Had there little moment yesterday been an impulse of his as well, or had he actually wanted to? She just wanted to know how he felt about her and whether she was wasting her time.

Confronting him directly about it was an option, he wouldn't be able to hide then. But could she? Knowing there was a chance that he didn't share her feelings and that would break her heart. However, she also knew that if she didn't confront him, then she would forever be stuck in limbo, forever wondering whether the person she'd fallen for, would ever want her in the same way. And if he did, she couldn't stop the naughty images of them both from re-entering her head, the very thought was making her hot and bothered.

"Lucy!" Natsu yelled to get her attention, but she hadn't answered. Her face was flushed and she was lost in some sort of trance. He lowered his face to hers and studied her glazed over eyes. He smirked, she was obviously thinking of something heated. "Feeling a little hot there, Luce? You shouldn't be thinking of such things in public."

Her head snapped up to his, eyes widening at his words. If her face wasn't already flushed, it was almost on fire now. She tried to speak, say something but her mind had been frazzled. Why did he keep doing this to her? She was struggling enough as it was.

"Natsu! What are you saying?!" She shrieked, horror in her eyes as she looked around to see if anyone had heard, which of course, they had and were sniggering amongst themselves.

Unfortunately, that'd included little Haru too, who'd been frightened awake from her outburst. Natsu noticed him start to whimper and wriggle, so he reached out for the little guy to take him from his mother and held him to his chest. He sat down on a stool and rocked the baby, hushing him gently until he calmed down again.

"Lucy, I was kidding, what's got your panties in a twist?" Natsu asked, a little concerned at her reaction. Surely that couldn't have gotten her this worked up? She looked like she was about to melt with the amount of sweat on her forehead.

"N-Nothing, er, I-I need air…" She muttered, avoiding Natsu's gaze the entire time. There was too much going on in her head right now and it felt like she was suffocating.

Her body seemed to have a mind of it's own as it shimmied off the seat and made its way outside. The air felt thick and stuffy, like she was being choked by all of her conflicting thoughts and Natsu teasing her really wasn't helping with that, not that that was his fault. Still, as if on autopilot, her body took her away from the guild, she wasn't really sure where she was going, but the cool breeze was starting to calm her down at least.

Meanwhile, Natsu, still sat at the bar with little Haru cooing softly in his arms, couldn't stop staring at the great doors that Lucy had just walked out of. What was all that about? Had he upset her? Because he hadn't meant to, he always teased her but it never meant anything. Surely, what he had said couldn't have been the reason for her to walk off like that. He turned to the guys that were still sat at the bar.

"What the hell just happened? What's wrong with Lucy?" He said, directing it at anyone who wanted to answer.

"Oh Natsu, you really are dense sometimes. Isn't it obvious?" Lisanna said, smiling at him.

"Isn't what obvious? I don't get it!" He replied, why couldn't they just tell him?

"Way to go Flame brain, now look what you've done!" Gray taunted as he walked over to stand by Natsu, a smirk present on his face. "I don't know how Lucy puts up with you."

"What I've done?! You're lucky I'm holding my son or I'd be beating your stupid face in right about now." Natsu spat back. He couldn't be bothered with Gray's smart ass, he was too confused and focused on Lucy. Was he really the problem here? It must've been something else and maybe what he'd said had made it worse? Lucy got flustered often, but that was never a reason for her to leave for no reason, she usually got over it pretty quickly, unless... "This isn't just my fault, what were you guys talking about before?" He realised then, it seemed to be what they always talked about. His and Lucy's relationship was always a hot topic and they tended to take it too far with Lucy sometimes, but for her to react like that, it must have been something personal.

"We were talking about Lucy's sexual escapades. Or lack thereof, I should say." Cana added, already on her way to finishing her third barrel of alcohol. "Poor girl, doesn't know what she's missing!"

"So it wasn't just me!" He stared accusingly towards the group who'd pointed their fingers at him. "But why were you talking about that?" Natsu asked, rolling his eyes. He knew it was something of that nature, but why did they always have to pick on Lucy about it?

"We were just having a little fun but she stopped talking after admitting something and the conversation ended there." Levy started, she felt a little bad for Lucy and how they had reacted to her confession.

"Then you came over and said that, which I imagine was the icing on the cake. Not that you could've known that, of course." Mira finished, she hadn't meant to upset Lucy, she'd just got a little carried away in her excitement.

"Admitted something?" Natsu asked, brows furrowed. Had something happened to her? He'd always been acutely aware of bastards who thought they had a right to touch Lucy, but he took care of them with great pleasure. "What did she tell you?"

"I'm surprised you weren't listening, even I heard them talking and I wasn't even trying to. They weren't being quiet about it." Gajeel walked over with a twin in each arm and stood next to Levy.

"Is someone gonna to tell me what was said? Or are you just going to keep wasting my time, when I should be looking for Lucy?" He was starting to get frustrated now, like he didn't have enough on his mind without them going round in circles.

"We were teasing her about her closeness with you, Natsu, and it went too far." Juvia admitted, even she felt bad now that she had said it out loud.

"And to shut us up she said that she'd never been romantically involved with anyone before and it shocked us. We should have said something, but we didn't." Lisanna said quietly, they had been so excited by what Happy had told them, they hadn't considered Lucy's feelings. "We're sorry, Natsu. We weren't trying to make her feel bad about it. We wouldn't knowingly upset Lucy."

"It's my fault Natsu, I told Mira about what I saw when I came home yesterday and I think it got a little out of hand." Happy came over to Natsu and stood in front of him, with his head down, feeling a little silly now for saying such things.

"We're all to blame, not just Happy. We were so excited and shocked we thought that you'd both finally got together or something." Mira finished, she wished she'd been more sensitive to Lucy's feelings now.

Natsu let out a puff of smoke, and sifted his hand through his hair, completely exasperated. A reaction like that would make anyone feel self conscious, let alone someone like Lucy. It was something she'd always been private about and he was at a loss over how to solve it. She always got flustered if anyone ever brought it up so he never asked, wanting to save her from the embarrassment. It was a delicate and fragile subject for her and he respected that, but these girls seemed to lack a filter and it would often lead to overly personal interrogations.

Natsu didn't really understand why it was such a big deal whether she'd been with someone or not. What she had or hadn't done before was up to Lucy, it was in the past, and as long as she was safe, he didn't care. She'd always been very innocent minded so maybe those things meant more to her? He needed to get to the bottom of this, so he stood up and started to walk towards the main door.

"I guess I should go fix this then?" He exhaled, no longer in the mood to engage with them about it any longer. Why couldn't they just keep their mouths shut? How was he supposed to bring up what he needed to talk about with her, when she was already heightened from this? He loved every single one of his friends, but they could really stick their foot in it sometimes.

He walked out of the guild and took in a deep breath, he hoped Lucy wasn't angry with him for what he'd said, and would let him speak to her at least. He sniffed at the air to try and catch a whiff of Lucy's scent and started to walk in the direction she'd gone.

"Let's go and find mama! I think I know where she's gone." He smiled at the little baby who was resting his head on his fathers shoulder, his wide blue eyes staring deeply into Natsu's green ones.

Seeing that sweet face always managed to make Natsu smile, no matter how bleak the situation, Haru seemed to brighten everything up. Looking forward again, he kept walking, eventually turning a corner and entering Strawberry Street. There she was, sat on the wall with her legs dangling over the canal. It was late afternoon now and the sun was getting lower in the sky, making the blue water glisten. He walked over and perched himself next to her, keeping silent for a moment.

"You found me then? I was wondering when you'd show up." Lucy said, not taking her eyes off of the water. "Did they bombard you with ridiculous questions as well?"

"Not really." He said simply, he really wasn't sure how he was meant to talk about this with her, maybe he should just let her take the lead.

"Figures, they never do with you. Being so shielded means people learn not to bother." She said, with a slight sting in her voice, not directing at him, but at the situation in general.

"Shielded? What do you mean?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't understand what she was trying to imply.

"Nothing Natsu. Sorry, it's not you I'm annoyed with. I'm not really annoyed with anyone, other than myself for being so immature. I don't know why those things get to me so easily, but they do. I'm an adult, I should be able to talk about adult things without turning into a complete mess." She sighed and finally looked over at him and gave a half smile, then turned to Haru, relaxing a little as she reached out to stroke his hair.

"Maybe, you're just not ready for those sorts of things, but that doesn't make you immature, Lucy, it's not for everyone. It'll come in time if that's what matters to you." He knew it would take her longer, but that was why he was willing to wait for her.

"But I want to be ready…" She said quietly. "Don't you ever want that, Natsu?"

"I didn't use to, it never interested me. But becoming Haru's father changed that, he opened my eyes to all sorts of possibilities that I'd never considered before." Natsu brought the baby down into his lap and smiled at his big wide eyes, he felt Lucy lean in and lay her head against his shoulder. It was in times like this he realised, he could never want anything more than the little family he'd made for himself, and what a beautiful thing it was to experience it with his best friend. "Like having my own family and being with someone I want to share that with."

He turned his head to face her, locking onto her eyes as she brought her own head up. Lucy felt her heart start to thump harshly against her chest, was he trying to tell her something? Was she that someone? Or was she misreading it again? No, she didn't think she was. His eyes were piercing into hers with so much emotion it was almost shattering. Never in a million years did she think Natsu would speak so openly with her, but then she'd never actually asked him. So maybe he wasn't hiding anything, she was just incapable of reading what he'd been trying to tell her all along.

"Me too, Natsu. I think it's also why it bothers me so much when people pry, because I've only ever had eyes for one person. Why would I look elsewhere when all I need is right here in front of me?" She reached out, placing her hand onto his cheek and caressed it with her thumb, giving him her sweetest smile.

It surprised her that for once she didn't feel embarrassed to say that to him, in fact she felt empowered. The way he was looking at her made her stomach do back flips, but this time she didn't want to shy away from it, she wanted to run with it and see where it would take her.

Natsu smiled softly at her, he felt completely at her mercy. Was this the moment he'd been so desperately waiting for? He'd just told her something he'd never told anyone, what else could he say to make her realise? He couldn't look away from her big brown eyes, they were hypnotising. She was the sweetest person he'd ever met and her beauty couldn't be tamed by words. In that moment, her entire being was glowing, blending with the evening rays and she looked utterly breathtaking.

She leaned in, nothing was going to stop her this time. With new found courage, she brushed her nose up against his, and opened her mouth ever so slightly as her eyes slowly began to close. Natsu could feel the blood pumping in his ears as he watched her come closer, her beautiful brown eyes shimmered before they shut completely. He brought his free hand up to rest under her ear with his fingers tangling into her hair and tilted his head slightly. He moved ever so slowly closer to her, waiting to receive her mouth with his.

"Kiss me, Natsu." She whispered against him and that was all he needed before he connected their lips in a sweet kiss.

He pressed delicately against her, her lips were like nothing he'd ever felt before. They moulded perfectly to his and her scent was intoxicating, making him want to delve deeper, but he wouldn't, not yet. He wanted Lucy's first kiss to be special because it mattered to her and that's exactly what it was, soft and gentle. It was all the things Lucy had hoped for as her first experience and she couldn't believe it was with Natsu, the man who had stolen her heart. They remained like that for a few moments and after revelling in each others warm touch, they pulled apart.

Breathing harshly, Lucy's face split into a wide grin, her eyes crinkling at the corners as they were forced shut from her elation. She couldn't believe it, after so many failed attempts and worrying over nothing, they'd finally kissed and it had felt amazing.

"Why did we wait so long to do that?" Lucy beamed. She moved back slightly, wanting to see his face more clearly.

"That wasn't a one time deal, Lucy, we'll need to make up for lost time." A sly smile creeping on to his face, expression turning from soft to something a little more hungry as he glared at her like something he could devour.

Lucy felt almost intimidated by his stare, he was so hot and fiery, she could only imagine what he'd be like as a lover. She felt a spark shoot straight down to the area between her legs as she thought of all the things he might do to her. This time she couldn't help the blush rise up her chest and neck the longer he looked at her like that.

"Luce, you're blushing again. You really should save those kinda thoughts for the bedroom." He smirked at her, she'd always leave herself open for teasing. As much as he wanted to give in to his (and her) desires and consume every last inch of her body this second, right where they sat. He didn't feel that was overly appropriate whilst their son was present and still awake.

"Natsu! There are innocent ears present!" She squeaked, blush now taking over her entire body and it wasn't helping that he was obviously trying to stifle a laugh.

"Come on, Luce. It's getting late and Haru needs to go to bed soon." He turned around and stood up, reaching out his hand to her. The sun had disappeared from the sky now, with only the moonlight to guide their way. Neither mage could control their beaming smiles as they made their way home.

Once reaching their house and going inside, Lucy took Haru from Natsu and went upstairs to their bedroom to change him and began to settle him as she sat on the bed. Natsu had come up not long after with a fresh bottle of milk for him. He stayed in the doorway, out of view, for a moment and listened to Lucy speak softly to the little one. He watched her lean back on the pillows with Haru resting on her stomach as she stroked his back.

Haru, seeming a little unsettled, was grunting as he tried to get comfortable. Lucy (and Natsu) watched in amusement, with grins plastered on both of their faces as he wriggled around on Lucy's stomach, slowly climbing up towards her chest. This was something she had read about in her many baby books. Small baby's would attempt to climb the mother's body to latch on and feed, although it surprised her the instinct was still there considering he'd been bottle fed for the last two weeks.

He was still very small so he struggled to move his weight around, well that's what they thought until he suddenly lifted his head to move it. Lucy's eyes widened like saucers as she watched him do it again. It wasn't elegant or delicate, plopping it back down onto his mother as he jerkily moved to face where Natsu was standing. Natsu walked over, making his presence known and knelt down beside the bed so that he was eye level with the little boy, bringing his face closer so that Haru could focus on it.

"Did you see that Natsu? He climbed up me and lifted his head!" Lucy beamed whilst trying to remain calm for Haru's sake, it was still his bed time after all.

"You bet I did!" A grin pierced his face as he continued to watch the tiny fella. Bringing his hand up to stroke his chubby little cheek. "What a strong boy you are!" It was such a little thing, but Natsu couldn't have been prouder of how well his son was doing. He stayed there for a while longer, cheering the baby on as he made his way up.

Haru had reached his mother's chest and had started rooting, another thing she had read about. Lucy was amazed by how much such a tiny baby could do, it was so damn cute, but he was definitely hungry.

"I'm sorry baby, you're not going to find anything in there." She couldn't contain her giggles as they wracked her body. She quickly held onto Haru so that he didn't fall off as she sat up and laid him down in her lap. "But daddy has something yummy for you."

Natsu stood up, chuckling to himself at the baby's desperate attempt to feed and sat down next to Lucy, handing her the warmed bottle. Haru opened his mouth eagerly and started guzzling, like always. They cuddled up to one another and watched the baby feed for a little while.

"That's one little milestone reached, he'll be walking and talking before you know it." Lucy whispered, feeling a little sad at the prospect of Haru not being this little forever.

"Don't wish it away, Luce. We should just enjoy it while he's still so small." Natsu said. His mood instantly soured as his words reminded him about what he'd been needing to tell her all day, he guessed now was a good a time as any. "When we go downstairs, I need to talk to you, Lucy."

"Is everything okay, Natsu?" She suddenly felt a little worried, starting a conversation with those words never ended well. Her mind was running wild with all the possible things he might say and naturally she came to one conclusion. Her eyes widened, as she snapped her head up to his. "Is this about the kiss?!"

"Why would it be about that?" Raising and eyebrow in confusion. He chuckled at her pink dusted cheeks, only she would assume he would have a problem with that. "You're weird, Lucy!"

Blushing a little at his words, Lucy nodded, feeling relieved. When Haru had settled down, they both went downstairs and sat on the couch together. Natsu looked so serious, it was very unlike him to look like that without good reason. He took her hands in his and let out a breath, this was going to be painful, he just knew it. But at least it was just the two of them, so if Lucy did get upset, he could handle it without any prying ears around.

"Lucy, I don't know how best to say this but…" Her mind was going into overdrive as he paused, he was staring so intently at her that she couldn't stop the adrenaline from spiking through her body and making it tremble. "We need to return to work soon, the money from our last job has almost run out." He waited for her reaction, watching her face morph from confusion to something he couldn't place.

"Yeah, I know. I've been thinking about it for a few days now and I thought if I tried to ignore it, then it would go away." Lucy sighed, she'd been dreading this, she didn't want to go back to work yet, she didn't feel ready. "I wanted to stay with Haru a bit longer before we had to go back, but apparently babies are expensive. Who knew?" She snorted, but her voice was void of mirth.

"Hold on a second! I've been going out of my head all day trying to find a way to tell you and you already knew?!" Natsu looked at her in disbelief. How stupid could he be? Of course she knew, this was Lucy, she was meant to be the sensible one here.

"Just because I knew doesn't make it any easier, Natsu. I don't feel ready at all to return yet, I don't want to leave Haru while he's still so small. It feels like we've only just come back with him and now we're leaving again." She looked down at the floor, fighting to hold back the tears in her eyes, quickly wiping them away.

"Honestly, I don't feel ready either, but no matter how hard it gets, we'll get through it." He spoke softly, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her against him, if she were to cry then he would be there for her, just like she was there for him. He leant down and breathed into her ear, "It's okay to be sad, Lucy."

As soon as her head touched his chest, the flood gates opened, everything she had suppressed came spilling out and she couldn't stop the tremors that dominated her body. Natsu hated seeing her cry, but this reaction was quite tame and easy to deal with compared to how he thought she was going to be.

"We've only had Haru for two weeks but I just can't imagine not being with him, he's such a vulnerable little baby that needs his mommy and daddy." She sniffled, holding onto Natsu like her life depended on it and in return, he held her tight, giving her all the time she needed to relieve herself of such worries. "I need him to be safe and I'm scared that if we leave him now something bad might happen."

"He will be safe, nothing is going to happen to him while we're gone, I promise." He brought his hand up to place it on the top of her head and began to comb through her silky hair with his fingers. "We knew when we took him in it was going to be harder, but we've come this far and he's doing so well compared to where he started."

"He is, even the guys at the guild were saying so. I love him so much, more than I ever thought possible and I want to do right by him. Which also means earning money to provide for him too. I just wish it wasn't so soon." The tears began to fall once more as she buried her head back in to his chest.

"He's a little fighter, Luce. It'll be worth it when you have him to come home to every time, he'll be your reason to keep going, no matter how hard it gets." Natsu felt his own tears spring to the surface, but fought them back. He loved Haru with his entire being and having to leave him was killing him inside, but he had to remain strong for Lucy. "Haru is a tough little boy, he's proven that every single day, so he'll be fine for a few days without us."

"He will. I know he will, thank you Natsu." Her voice barely audible as her breathing began to even out and her tears were slowing down.

It took her a few moments but she eventually and reluctantly separated from his hold and stared up at him. She smiled at him, a genuine happy smile that conveyed so much more than any words she could say. Her eyes were still glossy from crying and her cheeks tinted pink. Her mouth was partially open and her plump lips looked ever so enticing. Natsu was stunned once more by her beauty, it seemed no matter the situation, whether she was laughing or crying, she always managed to look so angelic and all he could think about was their earlier kiss and how much he wanted to do it again.

Lucy could see the want in his eyes, like she was something he would ravage until he was satiated. It made her heart leap out of her chest at the very idea of him being let loose, allowing his hot mouth to gorge on her body. It was just the two of them and even though she was nervous about how far he might go, she wasn't sure once they started whether she'd want him to stop.

Giving in to his desire, placing a hand on the nape of her neck and the other on her waist, he pulled her in, hearing a sharp inhale as he welded his lips onto hers in a searing hot kiss. The dragon slayer inhaled every last drop of her alluring scent and began to move his mouth, moulding their lips together again and again in a fluid motion, swallowing every little whimper that escaped her needy crevice. It was slow and passionate, savouring every last touch of her delicate lips.

Natsu, wanted to taste her, to explore her little mouth and so weaved his tongue into the kiss, which Lucy gladly accepted with her own. It felt like she was being scorched from the inside and it made her feel dizzy, making her moan into him. It was a noise that seemed to awaken the fire within his belly, he just couldn't get enough of this girl.

Without separating, he pushed her down, laying her back against the couch with his body hovering over her, his legs straddling hers and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. They were completely lost in each other, nothing could penetrate their little bubble of happiness.

When they finally broke apart, breathing harshly from the lack of oxygen, Natsu placed his forehead against hers and smiled. The smile took over his entire face and the only thing Lucy could do was mirror him. He opened his eyes to look at her flushed face, feeling a sense of pride as he mused over her swollen pink lips, even now he found it hard to stop himself from claiming them again.

"You don't know how long I've waited to do that." He whispered, still a little out of breath, but feeling completely elated at the same time.

"Me too, Natsu. I always assumed you weren't interested in me, but I guess you've proved me wrong." She chuckled at the silliness of it all, after all this time he'd wanted her just as much as she wanted him and she couldn't have been happier.

"In that case, I'll spend every day from now on showing you just how interested I am." He smirked, watching her face flush fifty shades of red as she realised what he was implying.

He leaned down, his lips were mere millimetres from her mouth, breath mingling with hers, "You're so beautiful, Lucy." He whispered before ravaging her lips once more. He could totally do this all night long if Lucy would let him.

"OH MY GOD! NATSU AND LUCY ARE MAKING KITTENS!" Both mages heads snapped towards where the noise had come from, making eye contact with the little blue feline hovering by the front door, giggling to himself.

Without thinking, Lucy pushed Natsu off of her in her temper, got up from the chair and ran after the cat, that had now shot back out of the front door, flying for his life as the blonde chased after him. Natsu walked over to the door and watched as Happy taunted Lucy whilst she screeched at him. He contemplated briefly whether he should go and save his little friend before Lucy unleashed hell upon him, if she ever managed to catch him that was. He was probably enjoying their little show more than he should have done and decided that Happy, for once, was on his own.

#Nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #Natsu and Lucy #natsu x lucy #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #happy (fairy tail)#fairy tail 100 year quest #fanfic #fanfiction

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doyouknowhowtowaltz · 4 years

Note

⭐⭐

Thank you so much, I have been actually dying with how much I want to talk about Of Swords Ravens and Alliances.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397234

This is long so, more under cut

Firstly, this was not originally part of my drawn out political saga that I am slowly expanding on. The first part of this with Enoch and the Beast chilling in the barn and talking out in the field was written before the political saga became a thing I realized I was doing.

It was initially a story where Enoch and the Beast had a cup of tea and chatted, I didnt like the Beast’s characterization so it never got published. It sort of sat in my drafts for a while and then I wrote the scene with the Beast tricking the raven woman to the song God Hunter by the aviators. That story did not have any opening or any closing it was just that scene, it wasn't even the fight.

While I was working on that story to make it longer I wrote the scene where Enoch gets injured in the first place.

Now, to take a small detour, I don't write WIPs in separate documents, I write them in one document and separate half finished scenes with -- and stories with extra space between the start and the end. This is because if I focused on one story at a time I’d never finish anything, so I’ll work for a few days on something then scroll through my document find something else to work on.

These two stories were at the time on top of one another and where I normally separate works there had been a change of page so when I was reading over it I read it as one story.

(The part where Enoch and the Beast were drinking tea was eventually cut for time and also because I still didn't like the Beast’s characterization)

For a long time it sort of lingered and I picked it back up last September along with another longer story that isn't written yet. They had ended up at the bottom of the WIP document and I moved them closer to the top so I would see them more and work on them more.

At that point I had sort of established my political world building saga and had realized it was a thing I was now Doing.

I started using this story to flesh out a couple of ideas and fill plot holes.

For example, Tzar Spring was made entirely for this story to fill a plot hole.

In one of my previous stories there's the line ““You are not old enough to remember the death of another one of us.” Lady Midnight says simply.” when Lady Midnight is talking to Lady Spring.

That line has bothered me for a long time, so I created Tzar Spring as her predecessor, her father.

Lady Spring is basically a giant spider, so I felt her father should also be insect like, at that point I listened to GHOST’s Honey I’m Home which includes a Praying Mantis in the video, thus Tzar Spring became a praying mantis.

Even after that he sort of floated in limbo for a little while without having a fully fleshed out character.

In my notes I have this, I don't actually remember any of this except looking at videos of praying mantises eating (Its horrifying)

“Tzar spring is a Devil’s flower mantis.

I had a lot of back and forth about this, I considered a couple of different mantises for this, like the violin mantis, glass mantis and the jeweled flower mantis.

Eventually I came down to a couple main contenders, and they were the ghost mantis, the devil’s flower mantis and the orchid mantis. Though the ghost mantis is the most intimidating of the bunch and fits in the most with what I wanted, it’s camouflage is dead leaves, and I didnt feel it fit well with spring. That left me with the orchid mantis and the devil’s flower mantis, both of which mimic flowers, I chose the devil’s flower mantis in the end because I wanted him to retain some of his gravitas while still being imbued with spring colors without them completly consuming his character.”

So this is sort of what he looks like

Also he’s like, taller than the Beast.

By the way, I have since better fleshed him out as a character, and he’s going to have a whole story about his death and some of his political machinations.

Both he and Lady Spring, (And Heiress Spring, but she’s never going to become a big fixture in the story) can see prophesy, unfortunately for Tzar Spring he only has one set of eyes which means he’s half blind most of the time overcome by prophesy.

Lets see, what else can I cover about this story.

Ah! The Sword.

So this isn't something made explicitly clear in that story, but there are two stories in the works that are going to explain what the Sword is.

The Sword is an Artifact, and Adelaide’s Scissors and Whisper’s Bell are also both Artifacts. This is probably never going to be explicitly stated in my stories but the Artifacts are ancient magical items that are cared for by witches.

There are three sets of three different artifacts.

The Blades, which include the Sword, the Scissors, and the Dagger

The Adornments, which include the Comb, the Mirror, and the Ribbon

The Tools, which include the Bell, the Needles, and the Cook Pot

All of the objects are with their respective witches except the Sword, which Enoch broke, and the Needles, which is a story I am going to further elaborate on in an AU not connected to the political saga, but in the political saga the Beast has the Needles and cares for them.

Most of them will never feature in a story though the Dagger might be mentioned.

Something else I want to touch on is the ravens, because the patrons used to use them to send messages. Only Madame Summer and Enoch actually use their flock to send messages, and not all ravens turn into people. Most of the patrons use the winds to send messages now.

The Unknown is sort of stuck in an impasse, because neither Enoch nor the Beast will attack their fellow patrons and disturb the peace and none of their fellow patrons could best them if it did fall into all out war (Except Lady Midnight, but she’s forfeited the end results, who ever wins may have her domain so long as she is allowed to remain in it and she wont fight)

Thank you so much Anon, I have been dying to talk about this story for ages.

#OTGW #My writing #Political Saga

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ralfstrashcan · 6 years

Text

Portal Confusion (& Valentine Musings)

I'm not even talking about how the portal style changes through the seasons, because honestly, I dig all those looks, from the purple one

to the translucent swirly one

and don't even get me started on the Portal Rune

because it's a freakin' work of art.

What I want to address here is the way portals work, because it doesn't really make sense to me.

What do we know about portals?

In 1x07 we learn that you can only open a portal to somewhere you've already been.

In 1x13 we learn that if you don't know where a portal leads to, you get stuck in limbo, whatever that is.

The way I understand that it doesn't matter if you have been at the end location of the portal already or not, as long as you don't know where it's going while passing through, you're done for.

So what exactly does 'know where you're going' mean? Well. There are two situations that allow the conclusion that there is a definite difference between absolute cluelessness and vague inkling regarding the destination of the portal, and that the latter is enough.

1) In 1x13 – before Alec saves Clary from running headfirst into the portal she knows nothing about, and sharing the aforementioned pearl of wisdom – Jace goes with Valentine.. through the portal he too knows nothing about. It is clear, though, that in the moment of passing through Valentine has a firm grip on his arm

and since Valentine knows where the portal leads to, Jace doesn't get lost in limbo but safely arrives at Valentine's ship of spaghetti cooking and questionable recruiting techniques horrors.

2) In contrast, remember in 1x11 when Magnus portals himself, Clary and Jace to Ragnor's? Neither of them was holding onto Magnus while stepping through the portal, even though Clary and Jace didn't know where exactly they were going – sorry, I can't imagine Magnus betraying the location of Ragnor's lair.. and how would he even do that? Coordinates? Satellite pictures? Still, they pass through the portal complication-free, implying that a vague idea where you're going (for example “Ragnor's cottage”) is enough, even if you don't know where exactly that is.

All of the examples above also lead to the theory that a portal has a fixed starting point and endpoint, and as soon as it's opened and the pathway is established you can pass through safely (as long as you know enough about where it leads to).

The pathway-theory is further cemented by 2x02. There we see Simon travel from wherever he is to Magnus's loft, and the endpoint of the portal stays open for several moments after Simon passed through, until Magnus closes it with a snap of his fingers, implying that the portal endpoint is independent from whether someone went through or not; as soon as it's established it exists until it's closed. Same in 2x01, where the portal from Valentine's ship to Reggie's pizza place stays open for several minutes while Jace goes inside, slays vampires, Jocelyn demonstrates her A+ parenting skillzZ, etc. until Valentine and Jace make their escape back through the same portal they came through.

This kinda contradicts what we see in 1x01 though, because there Dot opens a portal for Clary, then Jocelyn asks Clary where Luke is at the moment and when Clary answers with “police station” Jocelyn tells Clary to think of the police station (while going through the portal). One could argue that she said that so Clary wouldn't get lost in limbo but a) there's a difference between “coincidentally thinking of the place where you're going while having no idea that portal travel is a thing and you're about to portal” and “deliberately awarely using a portal” and b) since the portal had already been opened before that conversation it seems unlikely Dot had opened it to the police station, because how the hell would she have known that Luke was at the police station at 2 in the morning?? Also Luke freaked a little when he heard Jocelyn had sent Clary through a portal alone, so even if you know the destination it's not too safe to travel completely unprepared. Of course all this was in the pilot and we all know pilots can't really be trusted in the grand scheme of things because they are often shot and scripted and stuff before the rest of the series.

Still, there is another instance that absolutely contradicts the pathway-theory and that is 2x15. At the end of the episode Valentine is relocated to Idris and the whole procession of Shadowhunters walks through the portal Magnus – the freakin' inventor of the portal!!!! – opened, and Duncan escapes with Valentine into Jonathan's root cellar... by significantly touching Valentine's shoulder. If this portal had been a waterproof pathway there's no way any straying would have happened. Not when Magnus was the one who created the portal. No way. (Pun soooo intended.)

So portal travel seems to be controlled by intention of the traveler at least some of the time??

This..... kinda contradicts 2x04 and 2x08 though, because if that were true Magnus absolutely would never have sent Camille and Iris to the Clave via portal, alone, I mean he would never risk that they could worm their way out and end up in Hawaii instead, right?! He'd only do that if he was 100000% certain he could ensure they really end up where he wants them to.

So I doubly don't understand how that Valentine-debacle in 2x15 could ever happen.

Still, even if we say that there are two portal-travel-variants, namely a) pathway-travel, where the caster opens up a wormhole with fixed start- and endpoints and every person traveling through ends up in the same place and b) intention-travel, where the caster opens an unspecific portal and the person traveling through decides per intention where the endpoint lies..... then I still don't understand how 2x13 worked?!

Before Valentine and Magnus change bodies back, Valentine opens a portal with Magnus's magic, and honestly, I believe he would open a pathway portal. But anyway, he opens that portal, they switch back, there is fighting and stuff, and then Clary grabs Valentine and jumps through the portal with him and they end up in his prison cell. If it had been a pathway portal this never would have worked because Valentine would never be stupid enough to open a portal into his prison cell, right? So he didn't open a pathway portal, or if he did, Clary overpowered the pathway (like Duncan allegedly did in 2x15) and bent it to her will. This is further implied by the fact that the portal in the cell opens seconds before Valentine and Clary fall through while the portal at Magnus's loft had been opened for at least a full minute before anyone jumps in. But, what I really don't get then is how the intention works. I mean, Valentine sure as hell didn't want to end up in his cell?! Did Clary just intend harder than he did? How did the portal know that?? How does the portal measure intention?? And really, with all due respect to Clary and her stubbornness, but Valentine is a freakin' fanatic who knew he'd face certain death and probably lots of torture if he lost this battle of wits, so I find it kinda hard to belief that Clary so easily out-intended him. I mean come on, there wasn't even a second of suspense, the portal in the cell didn't flicker in and out of existence or anything.

Leaving all the mechanics aside, there is still the fact that before Clary invented the Portal Rune Shadowhunters couldn't open portals.... and yet Valentine easily opens portals with his stele in 1x11

and in 1x13

yet he unlearned that skill because in the Season 2B Finale he needed poor Rufus to open him a portal to Alicante. One could of course argue that he wanted to preserve his strength, but after Rufus failed he would have at least tried to do it himself, right?

I'd even let myself be persuaded that the reason why Valentine can open portals is because he injected himself with Downworlder blood and so picked up some of their skillzZ though a) why did he forget he can do that halfway through Season 2 when even I didn't forget that... especially when this could have literally saved his undead life in 3x09!! and b) if he really has some magic, why is portal travel the only thing he uses it for?! I mean, magic is super handy?! What the hell, Valentine?!?!?!?! And shouldn't controlling Magnus's magic have been way easier for him in 2x12 if he already has some practice using magic???

Then again, what if Valentine's portal-opening-power isn't the result of his demon-blood-self-experiments? Could it have angelic-blood-causes, since he uses his stele and everything? Well. There is of course the alternative explanation that the Portal Rune Clary created wasn't new, it was just unknown because the Clave likes to keep extremely fancy Runes to themselves. Valentine knew that Rune and used it. However I don't believe that theory because to me it doesn't really make sense. Why would the Clave do that, if the consequence is that Shadowhunters, who do need portals for missions and stuff, have to hire warlocks and pay them good money? I really think the prejudice against Downworlders and the naked greed would outweigh any other motivations the Clave might have for keeping a Portal Rune secret.

I also want to argue that what Valentine uses can't be Clary's Portal Rune because her Rune Portal and the Warlock Portal look vastly different while his Rune Portal looks exactly like the Warlock Portal... but then I'd have to acknowledge that the Warlock Portal also drastically changes style between Season 1 and Season 2 for absolutely no reason, and there's really no good explanation for that. Except maybe that Magnus, as creator of the portal, can dictate what portals look like and feels the need to redecorate every once in a while, which I'd immediately accept as canon.

Of course it could be that Valentine's Portal Rune is just a different Portal Rune than Clary's, but really, that's just ridiculous.

Bonus:

Just as ridiculous as the fact that the purple portal design somehow requires a rectangular shape to work and so in 1x11

this nonsensical doorway in the middle of a meadow happens. Hahaha.

#shadowhunters #some episodes #magnus bane #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #jace wayland #alec lightwood #valentine morgenstern #jocelyn fairchild #dot rollins #luke garroway #simon lewis #through the seasons #magic #musings

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sharmrocksims · 6 years

Text

For the Love of Cherish

Chapter 1.5 – Homework

So, it’s been a few weeks since I first met Grayson and I swear he is either flirting his little ass off every time I see him or I am completely crazy. The way he looks at me, his smile, his cologne and those damn eyes! Whooo….I swear, I get moist just thinking about it.

My boss set up a temporary office in our building for him so he could be readily available for us until this project is over. He always stops by on his way to or from the restroom and/or coffee machine to start some random conversation, (he either drinks tons of coffee or has the smallest bladder on the planet). It’s so cute, especially because there is a restroom and coffee station right next to the office he is working in.

My friend and co-worker Jameson (he likes to be called J but I don’t care and often use his whole government name to piss him off) stopped by the other day and like always we talked about everything from work to his latest sexual escapades.

He never used to be such a man whore (I say that lovingly) but when Erinn left he never was able to commit to anyone again. They are both my oldest and dearest friends and you can still feel the tension (mostly sexual) whenever they are around each other. They flirt and tease constantly but refuse to get back together. They both claimed to have moved on (yeah right). I personally think they never did and now they are stuck in this weird dating limbo. I also know that they have most definitely hooked up a few times since Erinn came back from her travels.

Although the main topic of conversation was this weight loss challenge. J has been so supportive and proud of the changes that I’ve made so far. I told him how I’ve been eating better and working out. He suggested that I stop by the gym and workout with his trainer Brant Hecking. He also asked about my love life, AGAIN! Damn, I think he wants me to get it in more than I do. Well, anyway I know that I’ve lost some weight and I can feel my self-esteem rise with every pound that I shed but I don’t know if I’m ready. I mean Grayson seems perfect, we get along great and I would let him hit in a heartbeat but what happens when his curiosity wears off? That’s what this is right? He could have any woman he wants, so why me?

J said he overheard Grayson on the phone the other day as he was walking by his office (FYI – J is nosey as hell so I know he was eavesdropping). He said that he was telling someone about this amazing woman that he met here in Oasis Springs. But she keeps refusing to go out with him. He was speaking in French and J’s translation skills might be a little rusty since he hasn’t dated any French chicks lately. He did say that my “Savage” cap was definitely mentioned, so he’s pretty sure he was talking about me.

I’m trying not to get all excited about this because for all I know J could be totally wrong. Either way I will be going to the gym because it is time to kick this into high gear.

~Therapy session already in progress~

Dr. Lawrence: Does it bother you when your friends encourage you to start dating again?

Cherish: No, not really. I’m just not sure that I am ready yet.

Dr. Lawrence: You say that you are attracted to…(flips through his notes) Grayson. So have you accepted any of his invitations?

Cherish: (Deep breath) No I have not. If only you could see him. He is so out of my league.

Dr. Lawrence: Well, I usually don’t judge other men but I will take your word that he is an attractive fella. I have however seen Levi and I would gather that he considered a nice looking young man and he was totally in love with you. Why would you think that you could not attract another handsome man?

Cherish: Levi was gorgeous, but we also knew each other with acne, braces, and all of those awkward years as kids you know. I was also a lot smaller, not saying that thick girls can’t pull in fine men (because we know they can!!)…I guess…I still have some work to do on re-building my self-esteem.

Dr. Lawrence: (Smiles) I think your self-esteem is coming along just fine. You just seemed to be scared of the unknown. Do you remember that dream you told me about, the one where you jumped over the cliff?

Cherish: Yes, I remember it’s what made me join the challenge.

Dr. Lawrence: Exactly! You decided to take a leap of faith. If you had not we wouldn’t be here now, you most likely would not have lost any weight and you would still be in the same cycle as you were in before.

Cherish: You’re probably right.

Dr. Lawrence: I have an assignment for you.

Cherish: You always giving me homework (laughs).

Dr. Lawrence: I need you to do two things. First, you make an appointment to meet with Brant at the gym. I think a personal trainer can help you a lot. Lastly, I want you to either ask Grayson out the next time you see him or accept his invitation if that comes first.

Cherish: Wow, ok. I honestly think being beat up at the gym will be an easier task but challenge accepted. I will ask Grayson out the next time I see him.

Dr. Lawrence: Or accept his invitation if he asks you out first.

Cherish: Yes, yes I understand.

~~Ding~~Ding~~Ding

Cherish: All right, Doc I will see you next time.

Dr. Lawrence: (Chuckles) It’s always a pleasure Cherish and are you ever going to call me Andrew?

Cherish: (Turns to look at him) If it means that much to you I will try. But, I’m not making any promises (smiles and starts to walk out).

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creative-type · 7 years

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Worth A Thousand Words III: Oda and Stealth Character Development

So...what’s the point of the Skypiea arc? It’s a question One Piece fans and detractors alike ask. I don’t know the answer, but it was probably because Oda thought it would be cool. By its very nature One Piece is not a tightly woven story. Rather, it’s a sprawling adventure epic, and it does sprawl epically.

Skypiea is, however, an excellent arc when it comes to Straw Hat development, and today I want to focus on one scene in particular with regards to my favorite Nico Robin.

No, not that one.

While there is a certain significance to the fact that a survivalist like Robin would choose to side with the Straw Hats over the hugely powerful Enel, the moment Zoro catches Robin is more important to Zoro than Robin. He was the most openly against her, the one who trusted her the least for the longest amount of time. Here Oda is showing us in big flashing lights that, yeah, Zoro has accepted Robin as part of the crew.

But I don’t want to talk about big, flashy character moments. I want to talk about this

Robin actually gets a pretty decent chunk of screen time during the Sky Island Saga as a whole. It was easier back then because Oda was juggling six main characters instead of nine, but it’s pretty easy to tell he was giving Robin special focus.

This makes sense. Firstly, Robin was a former enemy, so there’s a need to separate Nico Robin from her Miss All Sunday persona. Secondly, as important as Robin’s dreams are to the narrative as a whole, her position on the ship is the only one that isn’t strictly necessary. Any pirate crew requires fighters, cooks, navigators and the like, but very few would deem “archaeologist” as a position needing to be filled. So immediately after adding her to the crew Oda makes up a situation where Robin’s skills are helpful and necessary

In this scene Robin also establishes she’s the only one in the crew who’s even heard of the sky islands, while giving some much-needed wisdom to Nami. This, along with what we’ve seen in chapter 218 and the end of 217 gives us what we need to know about Robin’s personality and position in the Straw Hat’s crew. Then shortly after stealing Jaya’s eternal pose from Masira (showing off yet another skill usually relegated to Nami) Robin almost disappears from the narrative entirely and is largely absent from the Jaya sub-arc.

To be fair, up until this point she had been wearing Nami’s clothes, and Robin is, like, almost a foot taller than she is. Some shopping is justifiable here, but it brings me to one of the most important things to keep in mind when analyzing Robin as a character:

Isolation and Distance

One of the best ways to visually convey that a character is emotionally distant is to physically separate them from other people. When Robin first showed up as Miss All Sunday she was sailing the ocean alone. During her confrontation with the Straw Hats about their route she sat far above them where she couldn’t be touched. She left that argument with only her rad turtle ship for company, and spent a surprisingly large amount of the Baroque Works Saga apart from Crocodile despite ostensibly being his partner in crime.

Robin continues to be less than engaged after joining the crew. Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp fool off with one another constantly. Sanji and Zoro fight. Even Nami is known to smack the rest upside the head when they’re being stupid. Robin alone sits above all their antics, not showing her first face fault in a series lousy with them until well after the timeskip.

It’s pretty easy to pick up in the dialogue that Robin never calls any of the Straw Hats by their actual names, preferring to refer to them by their occupation (or their nose, in Usopp’s case). But the use of impersonal nicknames can’t be the reader’s only clue to Robin’s personality. Both Vivi and Robin have a habit of calling Zoro “Mr. Bushido”, but while the desert princess is kind, personable, and if anything cares a little too much, Robin is distant, standoffish, and at times even cold towards others around her.

You can even glean some insight from her fighting style. Robin doesn’t have to be in the same room with someone to kill them. She attacks from a distance, relying on stealth and surprise to snap necks and dislocate limbs. It’s brutally efficient and deeply impersonal, perfect for an assassin - or, perhaps, a young girl who was forced to learn on the fly how to fight against much larger opponents who showed no restraint or mercy.

This is something that was emphasized more in the anime where they had the benefit of knowing Robin’s backstory ahead of time and working little clues into the post-Alabasta filler. They’re a little on the nose at times, but episode 131 is a good example of what I’m talking about here, especially when emphasizing the fact that during the early chapters after joining the crew Robin often doesn’t speak unless directly addressed. To quote Oda in the Volume 71 SBS:

Reader: Robin always talks about creepy things in front of the crew. But her own thoughts, she often thinks of fun stuff like “cats” or “Dress Rosa”. Why doesn’t Robin talk about these things with the crew to make them laugh?

Oda: Even though Robin likes cute things, she’s a bit dark/creepy herself, so if she tries to put these cut thoughts into words there is a chance it may come out as scary/ominous. That’s the kind of woman Robin is.

Robin censers herself to avoid sounding weird. There’s enough evidence of her macabre sense of humor (spoke aloud) to assume that she has embraced her morbid self...most of the time. But Robin has been an outcast her entire life. Even before the Buster Call the citizens of Ohara were calling her demon/monster/creep/insert appropriate insult here.

(For those who don’t remember, the bruise on her cheek is from the other kids who were throwing rocks at her )

Robin spends large stretches of the Skypiea arc by herself, which further emphasizes the importance of what group interaction we do see. Robin has been hiding behind a well-crafted facade for nigh on twenty years because she needed to be a demon in order to survive the cutthroat world in which she lived.

Which takes us to point number two

Survival

Robin is all about living to see another day. Or she was until Crocodile shanked her (more on this below) Because of her past, she views the world through the lens of a survivor. It shapes how she thinks and how she acts, and Robin at this point doesn’t know any other way to live.

Robin has been miserably lonely for a long, long time, but believes if she allows herself to get close to others they’ll betray her. She learned the hard way not to trust anyone and that to let your guard down is to die. We see in Alabasta that Robin isn’t afraid to use deadly force against those who get in her way.

She’s got a bit of a mean streak, too. Though Robin didn’t kill Tagashi, she almost crippled her. That leg injury could have ended Tashigi’s career as a swordsman, which is almost crueler than killing her outright.

When Robin’s backstory is revealed in full the audience is always shown as Robin being the one betrayed, and never the betrayer. I think this helps garner sympathy, but her interaction with Crocodile shows that she’s not above a little backstabbing herself. Aokiji says that every organization she’s ever been a part of no longer exists, and I think that’s only possible if her reputation is at least somewhat deserved. When it comes to finding out the truth of the Void Century, Robin has literally the worst tunnel vision ever.

Which brings me to my last point

Openness to Change

Throughout the Sky Island Saga Robin is a woman who has lost her reason to live. Her only lead to the Rio Poneglyph was a dead end, and she doesn’t find Roger’s message until the end of the arc. That leaves a big chunk of time where she’s staying with the Straw Hats just because she can.

I think if she were as truly as fiercely pragmatic as she (and others) claim then she has no business on the Going Merry. Half of what the Straw Hats do is idiotic and should get them killed, and it’s amazing that they’ve survived this long as it is. Since Robin had resigned herself to death during the tail end of the Alabasta arc, we can assume that the idea of dying doesn’t bother her. Yes, Luffy made her go on, but she’s still stuck in this directionless limbo.

This is important because it gives Robin something other to focus on than the Void Century. Her desire to find the True History consumed her to the point where she was willing to work with Crocodile for four years and bring a “good” country to the brink of ruin. Without this obsession driving every decision Robin makes, she can take a step back and see the Straw Hat Pirates for what they really are.

The Stealth Character Development

Robin is not the focus of chapter 253. It’s a transition chapter situated between the first and second halves of the Skypea arc. The Straw Hats have reunited had their obligatory split the party moment that happen with frighteningly regularity. The crew are setting up camp as night approaches, comparing notes of what they’ve discovered so far.

Until this point, Robin has been with Zoro and Nami. These two make up 2/3 of the Straw Hats who showed initial distrust to Robin, and at this point Zoro stil hasn’t accepted her as one of their own. Yet they treat her with respect, and Nami especially seems to look up to her as an older sister figure.

Then Nami finds the other half of Cricket’s house, and without hesitation Zoro follows the comparatively weaker crew mate through the incredibly dangerous forest, which displays a trust for one another that would be very appealing to someone like Robin.

When the Straw Hats finally reunite, everyone is on good terms with one another. Remember, at this they’ve have stumbled into the middle of a civil war, made enemies with an unknown entity with a god complex, branded themselves as criminals, and almost gotten their ship destroyed. Some of their misfortune is just that - misfortune. But bad decision making plays at least a part of their current circumstance. It would be easy to turn on one another, and I think most pirates would. Just see how Usopp reacts when he sees what’s happened to the Merry

Anyone who has read the Water 7 arc knows how much Usopp loves this ship, but his first concern is Chopper. Compare to how any one of the Baroque Works agents reacted when someone failed a mission. Instead of falling apart during a time of crisis, the Straw Hats come closer together.

Chapter 253 begins with the crew setting up camp. Once again Robin goes off and does her own thing, this time finding a hunk of rock salt to use for cooking. Sanji predictably praises her, but he also reveals that he’s got a brain in his head by saying how important salt is to survival. Tick another box in the Straw Hat’s favor.

Every one of the Straw Hats helps set up camp, even the captain (useless as he may be). More than that, they each reveal a little of their talents. It’s sort of a reverse of what happens earlier in the arc when Robin showed off for the rest of the Straw Hat’s benefit. Through this Robin sees that the Straw Hats aren’t just good fighters, but smart and skilled as well.

After establishing the location of the gold and making plans for the next day, Robin makes a practical suggestion

This sequence marks the beginning of Robin’s stealth character development. She’s speaking here as a pragmatist and a survivor. Her point is valid, and any sensible person would have agreed with her.

The Straw Hat Pirates are many things, but sensible isn’t one of them. Luffy turns to Usopp in complete disbelief, while Usopp basically says “Go easy on her, Cap, there’s no way she could have known.”

Until this point, Robin has not been questioned by the Straw Hats. She’s not seen this sort of reaction directed at her, especially by Luffy. Her face says it all

Robin’s expression is pretty neutral here, but you can’t hide that sweat drop XD. She’s genuinely concerned that she’s made some sort of mistake. Remember, in Robin’s dog-eat-dog world a making a mistake is tantamount to death. She’s spent twenty years allying with people who at the very least distrust her, and more often than not try to kill her. And now, stuck up in in such a precarious position 10.000 meters above ground she has to be especially careful.

It’s okay, Robin, you’ve not done anything wrong. Luffy is just a dork

Note that Nami - the other survivalist in the crew - immediately jumps to her defense. They’re outnumbered by Zoro and Sanji, who have already made a giant bonfire.

Before we know it, the Straw Hats are partying with a bunch of wild wolves (Oda, plz...). They’re stuck deep in enemy territory on the night before a planned raid on the city of gold...and the Straw Hat Pirates are having a blast. Usopp’s playing the drums, Nami’s getting plastered, the rest are dancing their little hearts away, and Robin...Robin is smiling. This has got to be one of the most surreal, bizarre situations she’s ever seen.

Which brings us back to the image I started with

This says a lot about where Robin is at this point in the story. We can’t see her face clearly, but it’s established on the other half of the spread that she’s enjoying herself. Yet she remains distant, both physically and emotionally. The only thing that’s keeping Robin from joining in is Robin herself.

The Skypiea arc is important to Robin’s development because it rekindles her dream, but more than that it gives us moments like this where Robin is exposed to something she’s desired for twenty years, something we see later she’s always wanted but never believed that she would have.

The Straw Hat Pirates accept Robin unconditionally and show her a side of life that she’s never seen before. Even without knowing her entire backstory, by the time the Water 7 arc rolls around the audience genuinely believes that Robin would sacrifice her life, and the lives of every one else in the world, just to save the Straw Hat Pirates, and that wouldn’t be possible if Oda hadn’t given us this scene and others like it.

To put it another way, I fully believe that Robin would still make the same decisions during Water 7/Enies Lobby regardless of whether she found Roger’s message or not. The Skypiean Poneglyph furthers Robin’s part of the plot, but chapter 253 furthers her character arc.

What makes this all the more impressive is that Oda trusts his readers enough to figure it out for themselves. Unlike the anime, he never calls attention to Robin’s isolation and her gradual warming to the crew. Gan Fall wakes up on the very next page, and the focus shifts to more exposition, ending with the big reveal of what vearth is and why in the it’s so important. The development is stealthy.

Oda never makes a big deal of when Robin starts calling the crew by their real names during Thriller Bark. He doesn’t shove it in our face when she feels comfortable enough to tell Franky off for being stupid in Chopper’s body during Punk Hazard. He’s constantly using small moments all throughout the series to show how the crew has changed and grown, which is partially why people don’t think the characters have much depth.

It’s there, but without reading carefully it can be lost with everything else that’s going on. Just compare the Skypiean party to the end of Enies Lobby and tell me that Robin hasn’t changed. I dare you.

#One Piece #Nico Robin #Writing #Manga #Analysis #Character Development #Skypiea #Eiichiro Oda #creative-type analyzes

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violetsystems · 5 years

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#personal

It can be a nightmare after all these years to be too transparent for public record. I imagine it would be something like a poltergeist; always bumping into things and being misinterpreted or read into. The age old posit of “Shit Happens” doesn’t leave much room for argument or even proof of life Nobody ever seems to hear my side of things other than when I write about it here. Nobody registers the endless frustration because I hide it all so well. I changed a lot of my routines in the last two weeks specifically. A year ago I started getting harassed at the gym so I changed my schedule there to an early one. Eventually I quit the gym altogether. These days I don’t even own a gym membership. The Nike Training App core routines and some barbells have delivered far more than the stress I had leaving the house. I think I’ve learned over time that Yoga and Pilates in the back bedroom teaches you more about form and control. I use a mirror to monitor my posture. I don’t feel any prying eyes on me behind closed doors. For years everybody knows I’ve been my own coach and source of motivation. The source of inspiration is a given and that’s always been fiercely personal to me. The fact that it should be so obvious is something I’ve learned to enjoy because it is to me. But nobody particularly knows or cares what goes on in my personal life other than here where I write. They forget about the weeks and the work therein. So I probably resemble a ghost clanking with chains in the hallways. There’s no causality because nobody pays enough attention to accept I exist. I’m stuck in a limbo between the known and unknown. There’s some attention I avoid. I avoid heavy doses of it every day because I know better. It’s sticks out like a sore thumb socially and I’ve had to practice a sort of poker face. People often have a habit of expressing their distaste that I think for myself. I changed my train route to work. I still bump into awkward invisible walls. People trying to hijack my narrative in public. People afraid of ghosts I guess. Some cultures leave offerings for the dead. Others try to exorcise and eradicate them. Some people throw dust to the wind and some people keep their loved ones in a jar above the fireplace. I’m still alive clawing at the fabric of society and not so much reality. Society is fake this we all know. More obsessed with post truth and fake news than statistical based science. I used to have more dread towards my situation. That I would be completely forgotten and misunderstood for the rest of my life. Obviously people following me around on my commute regardless of my route disproves that fate. People treat me like Frankenstein sometimes. Pitchforks, torches and all. Every other week I’m on trial for a different section of my being. I’m a patchwork of things I’ve picked up from art school year after year. And year after year there’s something else that claims it’s cooler, fresher, and more alive. A good excuse to keep me buried. To keep the heresy out of plain sight. And then there’s me banging away at the keyboard early in the morning on the internet like a spirit in the tv static. People free to read into the message however they please. Most people just surf right through me. The noise is still out there every Saturday pulsing like a brain in a petri dish. The horror.

I read this article about how they were growing brain tissue in a lab. There was this rhythmic pulse of electricity that they couldn’t explain. The ethics of testing on conscious living material are dicey at best. So are half the relational aesthetics driven social experiments done in the name of justice and revolution. What is right and normal is a lengthy discussion. But it requires dialog. Sometimes I feel like that brain in a dish trying to give a signal but nobody wants to acknowledge. No one wants the inconvenience of reading how I really feel. My routine the last year has been fairly measured and predictable. Yet people still feel the need to watch and make sure. It’s been a bit of an insult to come full circle a year later and know full well I told you so. And some of that sting from my own pride is softened by the fact that I broke free from the petri dish a long time ago. Patch worked my own identity in the face of valid harsh criticism. I am who I am and I accept pretty much everyone at face value. I have saved so much face this year that I’ve become more weary of public and how much it takes to put on the act and show. For all the revolutionary movements I’ve supported and all the calls to action I’ve heeded nothing much has changed for me. In America there is this endless cycle of outrage. Right versus left. Good versus evil. Black versus white. And it spirals into a fractal of endless opinions and vitriol. Nothing gets defined. Compromise is completely nonexistent. Closure is a luxury most cannot afford. You can’t have closure without getting yourself wrapped up in a bigger drama which limits and belittles the argument in favor of populism or worse. The tribe of public opinion has spoken. You have been voted off the Deleuzian Island you were shipwrecked on. A reality exposition in front of camera phones and a conscripted army of influencers. America has moved from clique to tribe. Everything is a little more Mad Max than it used to be. On the weekends I still stare out my kitchen window early in the morning. People have so many hidden expectations for me now it exhausts me just thinking about it. It is pure mental anguish to read into all the projections and there’s no real payoff. What statement shirt will I see today. What hidden message or Easter Egg do I have to squint my eyes at to prove I’m fully woke. It’s what is expected of me to be left alone I guess. Yes I’m ok. Yes I have a job. Yes I keep myself busy. Yes I keep myself out of trouble. Yes everything outside of my apartment these days seems to be causing me more trouble than it’s worth. Yes I’m very sad on the inside. And yes none of that really matters because when I shut the door and think about the people I care about it’s all worth it. Because I’m not some experiment in a dish that demands some qualitative proof of my usefulness to science, life and America. I’m my own science project. A mixture of phantom, shade and shambling mound. I figured out a way to hide the scar tissue in broad daylight and let the sun fill the hollows in my face. I’m the most handsome Frankenstein to walk the Earth. Maybe more of the Hulk for good measure. Aren’t they pretty much the same thing anyway?

Universal Studios actually owns the film rights to Frankenstein down to the makeup. The only Frankenstein movie to ever make it to Japan was because of a guy from Chicago selling the rights to Toho. He’s also the guy that could have boosted Lenny Bruce’s career. He instead launched Woody Allen’s rise to stardom. A parable lies within all of this. Maybe why we’ll never see a decent standalone Hulk movie inside the MCU. Maybe I’ll just read the comics instead and let it play out in my own head. There’s a lot of bullshit that I don’t ever want to be part of. A lot of soul sucking corporate tactics that don’t honor the actual art form. And there’s the reality that money, jobs, and careers make the world go round. I work at a non profit. I make a non profit salary. I’ve lived being made to feel like I’m inferior to money. I’ve learned how to budget myself a return to New York every two months. Someone at work asked if I had any gigs there. I said I quit music because it was threatening my safety. In truth the last year was really about setting up a perimeter in my life. A place that was safe enough and anonymous to share some intimacy with another person. Music didn’t serve that for me anymore. It hindered my goals. How I’ve gone about building fences around my garden has been akin to that scene in Frankenstein negotiating with the villagers. Except in a no holds barred me alone against the court of public opinion sort of way. Modern day Hulk has evolved into a sort of cultured retaliation against the mobs. He’s still too similar to the mad scientist story to make poetic cinema out of it all. Me I live this shit every day. Hulk in Hell. Abused in some ways and blessed in others. People don’t like it when I’m angry. I guess as they say that’s the trick. I’m angry all the time. It’s how I act upon it. How I sacrifice my incomprehensible rage and tortured feelings out of love. For me I spent the whole last year doing something about it. Challenging the infrastructure of all this bullshit and leading by example. Too much force and you break things. Too little and they walk all over you. Lenny Bruce had the entire police department after him for saying what he felt. Woody Allen succeeded in Hollywood. How you view the hypocrisy of all that is all in what you accept and what you resist. Resistance isn’t fun. And it looks different for everyone. The most political battle to fight is the personal one. The right to be and the right to think. What is the real different between Frankenstein and the Human Ken Doll anyway? Who owns the rights to me being me? What gives me the right to have an opinion? Who I can talk to and who I can love? What I need to become to be treated as an equal in the public eye? What people have done to stop me from becoming who I really am? Why do I even care about having a popularly accepted opinion when no one listens? Who has room for drama in their life when I only make space for all the love I have for you? Of all the pieces of my life that I stitched together you are the most important one to me. Because you are the piece that makes me whole just by being you. It’s not a missing link it’s been an important foundation to my struggle. If I keep bumping into you in the dark just remember it’s a love tap. I don’t mind if you tap back. Only you though. Fuck all this other shit. <3 Tim

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apocalyptic-girls · 5 years

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Final writing

The room was gloomy, but her eyes soon adjusted to the obscurity. She lay in bed, in a deep sleep. Not a muscle in her face, not an eyelash stirred. The skin on her elegant neck was smooth and her small chin was delicately pointed. Nightmares had been troubling her for a while, making it hard to concentrate on her daily life. The dreams were trying to warn her. She was unaware of their meaning; she could not deal with countless nights spent sleepless. That night was the last time she dealt with nightmares. She had not slept for almost three weeks. Wisteria decided that if she had one more nightmare, she would find out about her dreams, as she kept feeling suffocated by them. As expected, nightmares were still there. It all started with her following a dark path in Athens and finding a cave where pictures of people she had never encountered were displayed, burning as she walked inside.

An image, the only moving portrait soon became distorted, disappearing in a blaze. The entire process was repeated. Shivering, the image attempted to give shape to something. Then it broke apart, scattering. The wind soared through her clothes violently, the whip of her hair lashing her face mercilessly. She opened her eyes but could only identify murky images. The sound of footsteps approached, crunching through the bleak sand becoming louder and louder, moving at a slow pace. The woman had light hair and eyes, she was obviously not from Greece, doubtless European. All of a sudden, the picture became real. That woman, whom Wisteria had never met, was standing in front of her. Wisteria darted back. She fell, screaming something that the woman, Aileen, could not understand and nothing she said could calm her down.

At first, Aileen was relieved Wisteria had stopped screaming. But Wisteria stood there, cold and worried in the wind, waiting for Aileen to talk. “Who are you?’’ Wisteria asked, shaking her head. Everything looked too real, it could not be a dream. “You do not have to worry about who I am. I don’t have much time left. I am here to tell you something: find me. Once you wake up, look for me. Terrible things are going to happen soon unless you stop them. The world is in danger. You are the only one who can help. Try to remember once you are up.’’ The dormant woman, Wisteria, was oblivious of certain appearances developing in her sleep.

After weeks of having the same dream, she knew it was the right time to learn more about the situation. The information Wisteria had about the mysterious woman was very limited. She was trying to find her, from staying up all night looking everywhere to asking people. It was hard, she almost felt like giving up, as if it was all for nothing. “Alright, that’s it. I need to go there. I cannot wait anymore.” She said as she slowly dragged herself out of bed. Wisteria was a twenty-four-year-old psychic, with a constant nightmare about an imminent apocalypse. She decided to leave Nafplio without planning, trying to find the enigmatic woman. It will all be fine, she kept saying to herself. Two days had passed since she went to Athens.

Although she searched everywhere she could not find the woman. She was about to give up again for the second time after the last dream. As she was leaving Athens, she walked past a pharmacy called “The Cave”. Wisteria forced out a guttural laugh, slow and quiet. She walked in, checking the place out, pretending to need medications if anyone approached her. A young looking woman’s back was all she could see, together with loud kids waiting for their turn to get vaccinated. Hearing a familiar voice made her think she was probably wrong as there was nobody she knew from Athens. “Can I help you with something?” The voice, asked. It was high pitched, the accent was obviously from abroad and it sounded calm. Wisteria felt she had known the voice all her life.

“I am fine.” Wisteria answered, before turning around to see to whom she was talking. It was her, the woman from the dream. She was in front of Wisteria, who was staring as if she had seen a ghost. Was she real? Was it just a dream? These questions were all she was able to think of. “I can’t believe this. I mean! No, thank you. I will just have a look around.” Her quick response made the other woman look baffled. Wisteria kept walking inside, pretending she was now interested in hair products. All she wanted to do was to stall, trying to find the perfect thing to say.

The next morning, Wisteria woke up thinking about the previous day, wishing it was not just another hallucination. Was everything she had dreamt about real? What even was real anymore? Could she explain to the unknown woman? She did not want to cause any problems nor make her think she was insane. She just wanted answers, the need was keeping her awake. She was stuck in limbo between her thoughts and emotions, trying to come up with a sophisticated way to approach the stranger. Suddenly, Wisteria appeared in the pharmacy. “Have we met before?” Wisteria asked. She wanted to be perfectly sure it was not some sort of illusion.

“I would remember your face. You have probably mistaken me for someone else.” The woman answered. “I was sure it was you. Never mind. My name is Wisteria and I’m actually from Nafplio. I don’t know anyone here and was wondering if you could be kind enough to help me settle in.” “The pleasure is mine, Wisteria. I am Aileen. I moved here one and a half years ago so I won’t be the best person for this job. I know many things though!” “It’s fine. I won’t be able to get to know the whole city, even if I tried to. Just important places, that’s it.” Wisteria quickly responded.

“That is perfect. I still need to practice my Greek and I don’t really know people here! Talking and showing you around would help me gaining confidence!” Aileen said. “Terrific. I see you close at 9 pm. I will be here by then.” On time, as promised. Wisteria was about to spill the truth as minutes passed after the rendezvous. Perhaps letting Aileen know was not a good idea, she had to use the “tour guide excuse” in order for her plans to work. “Sorry, I’m late. I had to close tonight and forgot to mention it. I have never really done this. I don’t know where to start or what to show you first.” Aileen spotted Wisteria in the crowd, breathless.

“That’s completely fine with me, I won’t be even able to memorise it all in one day.” Wisteria was glad she showed up. They walked slowly, stopping every now and then to look at places neither of them had ever been to. “I said to myself I would not bring it up during the first day, but there is something I need to know. Do you think the world might end?” Wisteria questioned. Aileen narrowed her eyes and looked at her. She could not tell if Wisteria was making fun of her. “I am not really sure. It might happen, it might not. Maybe it is just a silly invention to scare people.”

Wisteria stiffened her back. “I see.” “Anyway, why are you asking me?” Aileen continued, walking slowly. “I just wanted to know your thoughts about it.” The night ended sooner than they both expected. It was not a good idea to talk about nightmares the first time they met. Sure, Wisteria could have arranged a meeting place, but it would not have been the same. Another sleepless night. Waking up started getting harder, as the days passed and the need to discover more was bothering her. She went back to the pharmacy to find Aileen. “Let’ go for dessert later. My treat.”

Two hours later, both of them were inside DaVinci Gelato enjoying ice cream. “The truth is that I’m here because of a dream I’ve been having for a while now. They are just dreams, I thought. But once something happened and I can’t pretend it never did. I am here because of you.” Aileen gave a little shrug that seemed to mean “I can’t understand a thing”. “As I was saying, I keep having a dream. You appear inside a cage where you’re telling me to look for you before it’s too late, before the imminent apocalypse. I had no idea where you were working, I just went into the pharmacy out of curiosity because of the strange name. Do you know anything about what I’m telling you?”

Aileen inclined her head slightly. It could mean either yes or no. “I will explain more if you join me tonight. I wrote my address down in case you need me.” Wisteria took a notebook from her jacket pocket and wrote something in it with a rollerball pen. Tearing the page out, she handed it to Aileen. “Sure.” Aileen was left with a strange feeling. Why was she interested in knowing more about someone sounding so delusional? Nevertheless, she arrived in an empty dark street, where there was no sign of Wisteria yet. “I will wait two more minutes and call her.”

For now, the clock was the only item in the street demonstrating any activity: a precise nocturnal artifice. It took Wisteria exactly one minute and forty-five seconds to arrive. “My apologies for leaving you like that before.” Wisteria said. “I had to do something urgently. You have to listen carefully from now on. I think the world is in danger.” “In danger? What are you saying?” “Just follow me for now. I will explain everything later.”

“I don’t even know you!”

“You will know me, Aileen. Do not worry about it, alright?”

A dark room appeared. It could be a location in an apartment building or some sort of studio. It had a broad glass window; banks of fluorescent lights lined the ceiling. In the centre of the room, there was an old wooden bench, which had a back but no arms. Wisteria, who never dared to show her powers to another human being, decided it was time to do what she had planned. She slightly moved her head making the bench spin all around the shadowy room. Together with the moving bench, she started teleporting herself from one corner to another. It looked too surreal, too dreamy. Aileen’s eyes were wide open, of course, she was trying not to miss a single thing. “I am getting confused. How can you do that?” Aileen whispered.

Wisteria stopped. She thought about all the things she would hear that day, but one, only one she did not assume could happen. “You’re not screaming! You’re not running away! And you want to know how I am doing it?” Wisteria gasped. “Why would I be scared? I grew up watching sci-fi programmes, I think it’s amazing what you can do.” Wisteria felt so overjoyed, so liberated. The terror of being criticised had permanently ceased, she knew Aileen was a good person.

“Thank you, really. Anyway, as I previously started to tell you, I have been having nightmares about an apocalypse. In this dream, I met you. You told me to look for you in order to save the world. I won’t take much of your time, don’t worry. Yes, I know it is just ‘a bad dream’, but I once had something like that and ended up doing nothing.” Aileen had a moment of reluctance, but, looking at her face, she guessed that the woman was not a bad person. “You dreamt about the world ending before?” Aileen asked concern etched to cross her forehead. “No! It was something else, don’t worry. I need to know more about the whole situation and you.”

“Me? What do you want to know?” “It’s not about what I want to, is more what I need to know. I have your number and I know where you work, so I will be present in your life from now on.” “Fine with me.”

As days passed, all the answers were coming to an end. One day, when she was on her way to meet Aileen, in the middle of the road, a big hole formed. Unaware of what to do, Wisteria decided to have a look, thinking it might have been a delusion. As soon as she stepped closer to it, she fell in. Suddenly, an image of fire appeared right in front of her, leaving her perplexed. A sharp air blew past her with such force that it felt as though the gusting air had filled her very being. The wind blew into the impenetrable darkness and pushed it back, allowing the faintest of light to reach Wisteria’s eyes. The figures behind the darkness retreated back and before Wisteria could begin to realise what was happening, another strong wind enveloped her. Due to her abilities, she was able to leave. Once again back on the ground, the whole situation started to make sense.

Was the apocalypse starting? How could she stop all of that? She ran towards the pharmacy where Aileen worked, showing up unexpectedly. Wisteria asked her to leave what she was doing and follow her. “I am working right now, I can’t leave.” Aileen answered, being confused. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent. You have to follow me; you have to see something important.” “So important that I could potentially lose my job?” “Yes. After that, I will talk to whoever I need to and cover for you. Just follow me. You won’t regret it.”

She gave Wisteria a lopsided smile and rubbed her palm over her long blonde hair. Then, she decided to follow her, oblivious of what was coming next. “It had better be a good reason.” Aileen was puzzled by Wisteria’s words, but she took the keys, closed the pharmacy, and followed her. They stepped outside. The street was busy as ever although it was late. The two carried on walking. From the glitteringly lit boulevard, they turned into a narrow lane and headed uphill. Wisteria walked quickly while Aileen hurried to keep pace with her. They climbed a gloomy, deserted stairway and came out on a different street. Several snack bars on the street still had their signs lit, but they were all empty.

The gigantic hole, which Wisteria had seen, was no longer in existence. It did not make any sense to either of them, especially Wisteria. Had it just been a delusion? “What’s happening?” Aileen was starting to get impatient. “I swear, there was a chasm right here. I am not messing around! I saw it before.” “Obviously it is not there anymore. I will get going.” She left her without giving time for an explanation. That did not stop Wisteria from running after her, trying in any possible way to explain what had happened. At one point, she thought it would be better to just walk her back.

Unexpectedly, another crater started to form right in front of their eyes. People who were walking beside them could not see what was happening. Both of the women looked at each other’s eyes, bewildered, not knowing what to think. “Can you see it now?” Wisteria raised her voice, asking the same question five times. “Of course! What’s going on?” Her tone slightly changed, almost as if she was getting concerned. “How can people be so calm? How can they not see what’s happening? It’s huge! Aileen, look! Do you still think I am imagining things? That means everything I have dreamt so far is real. It means the world is ending and everybody is in danger.”

“Calm down, Wisteria. I am sure you will find a solution, right? I mean, you have to! If it’s all true that means we have to act fast. Yes, I said ‘we’. I am going to help you. Just let me know what to do.” Wisteria felt reassured. A few words made the difference. For the first time in her life, she was not alone. Someone else would have probably started to scream and freak out, but Aileen did not. It was finally time to take action. All at once, what had happened started to make sense. After years of hiding her powers, instead of waiting as she had been doing for a long time, she decided to start using them to see the future. An inexplicable appearance warned her to be cautious and not to lose sight of Aileen. Apparently, she could not see more than that, which thinking about it, was enough for now.

Even though she had vowed never to use her powers again, now it was the perfect time to change her mind. Holding Aileen’s hands to teleport herself was the first thing she had to do. They were inside an unknown place, neither too dark nor too bright. The room was windowless and stuffy, furnished with an oversized bed, chairs and TV. “I finally understand.” Wisteria added, with a relieved voice. “What? What’s happening then? Tell me. I want to understand.” “I promised myself I would never use my abilities as they have always made me seem different. But now that I know all of this is real I don’t care anymore about my feelings.”

“I see nothing wrong with it.” Aileen bit her lip and gathered her thoughts, trying to understand where they were now. All of the contents of the room around them started to move, chairs, windows, and bed covers. There were only two women who could see what was happening and understand the situation. Wisteria could not use her abilities to read Aileen’s thoughts but was able to show what only she saw. A big screen came into view on which Wisteria was able to demonstrate her thoughts. Now they were both able to look at what was going on inside her mind. Despite Aileen not fully understanding the circumstances, she tried her best to keep track of what was going on.

Now, they were both able to see the future, to see what would happen if they did not help in any way. The visions hissed and then reluctantly blurred to the back of her mind as she was unable to keep watching, although she knew they would be back. The nightmare played inside her head once again. A sharp wind blew past her with such force that it blew into the dense obscurity and pushed it back, granting the weakest of light to reach Wisteria‘s eyes. The figures behind the darkness retreated and before Wisteria could begin to realize what was occurring, another strong wind surrounded her. “Is this all real?” Aileen asked, being perplexed. “It really is.” Wisteria answered cautiously. “You are seeing the future. We have to stop this from happening.”

Aileen did not know how to respond, so she said nothing. “That’s it for now, I am turning it off. Images are getting too vivid.” There was no time left anymore, all had to be done quickly. Over the past two days, living was getting complex. Both of them would wake up, seeing incomprehensible scenarios. From tsunamis to everyone drowning. Neither of the women was able to sleep, especially Wisteria, who was the one supposed to rescue Athens. The clock started ticking quickly, the time was approaching. Minutes passed rapidly. They became seconds. Hours were now minutes. Every person started to disappear, the streets became empty. She rushed to meet Aileen expecting she would have gone too.

Fortunately, she had not. She was the only one Wisteria could find there, in an otherwise empty street. There was no trace of anybody left. She glanced at Aileen considering whether to go nearby and talk to her or not. She did not need to preoccupy her; she did not want to leave her thinking more about what she was about to do. It was time to leave, to save everyone else even if it meant sacrificing herself. Obscurity was accompanying her. Wisteria teleported to the previous hole, which now started to get larger and larger. She looked at it, sighing, staring at the ticking clock, and, with determination advanced inside. The process was too abrupt, it progressed too briskly for her to think clearly. It was all foggy, but she was able to see considering her powers. She followed a red light, thinking it might be a clue.

The light switched to purple, altering again to red as soon as she got closer. Going further was impossible. Consecutively, images from the nightmare appeared. The darkness began to curve and alter around her. At first, only clear marks and colours that she could both see and not see increased to form shapes and patterns. Colours, red and purple, appeared delicate but glaring. Wisteria was not inside a hole; it was the exact cave from the dream. The scene was now real with fire all around her. Aileen’s expression disappeared, all she could see were other people’s faces. They were not incinerating as they did in the nightmare, but were on the surface, not moving from it. The morphing gloominess was all that she could see, the shapes created detectable forms which transported and revolved in front of her as she watched.

Wisteria shivered, the images were bright in her vision, no matter where she moved. She crashed to the ground, hard, an inch away from the pictures, a look of complete utter shock on her face, strenuously searching for Aileen’s image. The landing knocked the air from her lungs and she could not breathe or even gasp. Her lungs burned and Wisteria fought to keep her jaw clenched shut. Wisteria’s screeches resounded throughout an echoing void. She could not think anymore. There was no comfort, no rest from the dreadful cave. Did it mean she was fine? Or the opposite? What was happening? She required answers, she had to ascertain whether Aileen was fine. She needed to act fast to leave the cave, in order to start looking for her before it was too late. Portraits vanished until she was left with only a mauve luminosity leading her back to the entrance.

She had once thought that everything was over. It was the time when she was broken on the floor of the hole. But she was wrong, the entire cavern began to disappear, slowly fading, leaving emptiness. She closed her eyes, dissolving together with the cave.

Seven months later With Aileen wondering where Wisteria was, life going back to normal and weeks passing without any contact with Wisteria, Aileen knew something had happened. Going back home from work one day Aileen noticed a shadow, similar to a person. She could not identify who it was, but that did not stop her from chasing the figure, suspecting it was Wisteria. “Wisteria? Is that you? Wisteria!” Aileen exclaimed, fiercely following the inscrutable shadow. Realising it was Wisteria, she paused, raising her voice. “Where are you? Answer me. Where are you? Wisteria? Is it you? I know it is you. I feel it. Please answer me.”

Receiving no answer from the mysterious entity, she saw it was getting closer. A magenta scarf was obscuring the face, making it impossible to see who it was. Only the eyes were visible, looking exactly like Wisteria’s ones. Aileen was right. Wisteria turned her head until the bones in her neck creaked. She was hiding her face; she did not want to be seen. “The plan was for you to not find me today,” Wisteria explained. Wisteria wanted to clarify the whole situation, she wished to let Aileen know how she ended up saving everyone else, fading, returning back after months, but she could not, she did not want to make her more worried than she already was. So, she put on a happy expression, walking her back home, looking at the time.

Athenians were safe all this time. Her priority was to save them, succeeding, letting people think they were still in Athens, adjusting their thinking. Wisteria found a way to teleport them, making sure they were in the closest city, safe. Leaving Aileen, presumably for the last time, before going away, was crucial. For months Aileen assumed Wisteria was no longer alive. Luckily, she was able to save herself. She did not know how this had happened, how she had escaped the infernal cave. She did not care. She did not care where she was now. She was already forgetting the pain and the images locked in her head. As long as she was out of the cave, everything would be fine. “It is nine o’clock now. You had better get inside before it gets darker.” Wisteria said resolutely, glancing at the time.

And that was it. The gloomy images, the nightmares, the unusual powers within herself that she had always kept hidden, it was all magic. A fervour surrounded her, and for a moment, Wisteria thought she was back in her nightmare with the flames rising up to meet her. Everything was better now, it would all be alright. As long as she was out of the cave, everything would be fine.

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samwinlover-blog · 7 years

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Sharing a Bed

Pairing: Sam x Reader Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader Warnings: light swearing Word count: 1212 Summary: The motel room only has two beds and no couches, so the Reader and Sam have to share. Tag list: @spnfanficpond @bambinovak @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @spectaculicious @writingthingsisdifficult @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @spectaculicious@bambinovak @bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010 @mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage @evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood @megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137

Masterlist Here!

“Jesus I’m beat”, the older Winchester announced as he kicked off his shoes and slumped down onto the motel bed. The three of you had been driving for nearly 7 hours straight, the phrase ‘beat’ was an understatement. Everyone was exhausted, you especially. While the Winchesters had a life of hunting and road trips under their belts, you’d only been hunting for a few months. Driving for hours on end and sleeping in the backs of Impalas was all new to you. Your limbs felt heavy and tight as you dropped your bag onto the carpeted floor, too tired to care about your belongings inside slamming to the ground. All you wanted to do was strip off the day’s clothes and go to sleep. But looking down at the room before you, your heart fell. There were only two beds. And no other furniture in the entire room.

It really shouldn’t have been a problem- you’d shared a bed with Dean countless times. But you didn’t want Dean, you wanted Sam. Ever since you’d met the taller Winchester, there had been this tension between the two of you. You’d flirt and laugh like high schoolers, and then become fiercely protective of each other when the danger came. It was as if you were stuck in this strange limbo, and neither of you dared disturb it or take the relationship any further. So you didn’t talk about it or even recognize it. But you wished you would.

“Alright I call this bed. Watch out Sammy, she’s a sleep fighter”, Dean gave his brother a wink before switching off the lamp and burying his face into a pillow.

You gave Sam a small smile before retreating into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. Digging through your suitcase, you withdrew your Calvin Kleins, one of Dean’s hoodies, and loose grey shorts. Casual, it was casual. You reminded yourself of that over and over as you changed. It was only casual.

Once you had left the bathroom and walked sleepily over to the bed, you noticed that it was a twin. The two of you would barely fit- a comfortable sleeping distance was out of the question. You noticed how good Sam looked. He was only wearing an old Stanford sweatshirt and grey sweatpants, but looked breath taking just the same. You saw the way his powerful arms crossed before his chest as he stood before the bed. The way his hair was parted shaggily to the side, slightly unkept due to the long drive. And lastly, you noticed his eyes. Sleepy, yet still glimmering. Those beautiful, blue-green eyes, were filled with laughter. You could see thousands of conversations in the Impala and jokes and hunts gone wrong in those eyes of his.

The situation probably should have been awkward, or uncomfortable at least. But you were too tired and knew him too well to care. So with a quick good night, you clambered into the bed and clicked off the lamp. You felt the mattress sag as he lay down to your left. He was warm, no- he was a god damn furnace. And in the frigid motel room, you wanted nothing else but to lean into him. But you didn’t, and put the thought out of your head as you drifted to sleep.

When your eyes fluttered shut you found it wasn’t quite morning yet. The sky was grey and had stray wisps of clouds decorating its horizon. The motel room was dim, but light enough that you could see Sam- and the position the two of you were in. He had is arms wrapped tightly around your torso and was hugging your shoulders closer to himself. You found your own arms tangled before you, clutching his sweatshirt to your face. A surprised smile crept across your cheeks, which were still buried into Sam’s chest. You shifted your position and looked upwards at him, trailing your gaze to his adams apple and then jaw line before finding his eyes. They were open and staring back at your own.

With a lazy smile you said, “Why are you awake? It’s like 2 AM”

He took a deep breath and sighed into the top of your head, “Cause you’re awake”

You wiggled upwards so your face was inches away from his own, the tips of your noses nearly touching. You didn’t know what had come over you, but suddenly you were bold and confident around Sam. You knew what you wanted, so why shouldn’t he?

“Thanks for sharing a bed with me”, you said quietly, voice unwavering.

“Hey it beats the floor”, Sam joked back- not exactly the response you were hoping for. You felt your eyes fall and your body shift away from him, he noticed immediately.

“No, I-I mean, that’s not what I meant. I, uh….”, his voice trailed off as he sharply inhaled before whispering, “I’m glad it was me instead of Dean.”

You noticed the way he eyed the sweatshirt wrapped around you- which was his brother’s. You almost laughed out loud at the thought- you and Dean being more than friends. Ever since the two of you had met, you’d been like brother and sister. You had a lot of the same interests and always found him easy to talk to. But you’d never take the relationship further, the two of you just didn’t fit that way. Even though the idea was ridiculous, you held back your witty comment. Sam had been legitimately worried about you and his brother, maybe that was what kept him from showing you his true feelings. If there even were any.

“It was always going to be you instead of Dean”, you whispered back, hoping he understood.

A small look of surprise crept across his face as he said, “We aren’t talking about sharing a bed anymore, are we?” You shook your head in return, internally shocked at how bold you were acting.

“(Y/N), you’re important to me- you always have been and I think you know that"

“Okay”, you responded- willing him to go on.

“So if we do this, we have to do it right”

You actually felt your heart skip a beat. And, unable to control your smile, you replied, “Then let’s do it, I’m all in and I have been for a while.”

He was smiling back at you now. Sucking in a sharp breath and brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, he responded, “Me too- since day one, actually”

You laughed in return and leaned up to kiss him. Your first kiss was perfect. He still had his arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders, and you were clutching his shirt tightly. Everything was put into that kiss. Absolutely everything. The years you’d been longing for each other. The countless times you’d faced death and the unknown together. Every single heartbreak and sorrow you’d experienced in your lives as hunters. It was all there. And when it was over, you kept your eyes closed for a few seconds after- savoring the moment and never wanting it to end. The two of you didn’t speak after that, because you didn’t need to. You just snuggled back down into his arms and drifted back into a blissful sleep.

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libramoon2 · 7 years

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eve of Hekate

Stars’ Crossing * * Crossed roads, slowly swaying entrance beads from day to night. Slip in between to become for that instant of eternity dancing gypsy calling to Moon, to storytelling stars. Embrace that mystery, train tracking adventure. Breathe forgotten fields, lush or shriveled, dependent on water and feed. Let go of all but one brave hand solidly grasped to the doorway. Let go; let fingers fall reaching. * * * * Second Star to the Right * * Traveling beyond Persephone’s garden on the etheric threshold ‘tween mortality and death. Taking an oblique path at the crossroads onto an accessway along the axis of bliss. It’s not a road on which the dramas fade. It’s not about a numbing block to pain. Drama unfolds — my chemistry responds exquisitely. Touch is just touch; sensation translates information. All the appointed tasks, routine errands of the everyday, little pauses along the bliss path, allow me to breathe the scent of endless possibilities, as path and consciousness expand blissfully aware. * * * * Liminal Spaces * * Twilight, the wee hours, the dark of the moon, liminal spaces, places where magic dwells, crossroads, crises, cusps. * There is static on the radio. A song my voice was singing, rhythm of sound takes flight to surround me, a comforter of down to ease my soul. * I’ve been trying to define a taste, a sense of bittersweet and salt. I’ve been trying to find a trace a footprint in the desert, a sight, a scent, a memory. I’ve been trying to discern a trace of me, a piece to fit the puzzle, my contribution to the grand design. Seeking in shadows, the space between myth and matter, those places words cannot define. On those insubstantial plains of myst and awe, the stuff of dreams, threshold of wonder, creation is spawned. * * * * Crossing the Threshold * * At the crossroads at midnight My lady did swear That she must be alone To face up to her demons * “Please understand that I must be aware of just who I am and where I’ve come from.” * I sat by the bridge as she set forth her tools, her sorcerer lore, her alchemic runes So she’d know who to honor, to break and to blame What she’d been made for, her journey, her truth. * At the crossroads, past midnight, just before dawn My lady thrice nodded and stamped out her flames. She beckoned I join her out on the meadow to kiss and rejoice and reveal our true names. * * * * Cross Purpose * * At hours’ crossroads, Reason drowns in rage, scathe, irradiated rain, treasonous air. Weary of care, of punishing, bottomless anger, of sobbing men robbed of their right to give birth. Wrested from Mama’s warmth, from the cave, to play brave. And it’s ladies’ choice as you squirm in fool’s corner. Such a chore — kissing at this and that for a chance to score the shame, the blame from stuck-out tongues, the bloody laughter. “I could bite off that little thing — make you squat to pee.” Wired to fight, at any cost, because, of course, the Cross proclaims “We’re right. They are inherently wrong.” “Those below must be taught to obey our superior tools, to be broken, that we may ride.” Against our better fate, sad race divides along strict lines, by difference nature devised to spawn us strong. * * * * Alchemy * * Simple acceptance. The dancer with the dance entering pre-dawn mystery. Quiet interval, enchanting music. Undulating reverie. Alone in Hekate’s garden, breathing in memory of jasmine and spice. Weary roads traveled crossroad to crossroad; the journey continues. Weary days have found sustenance in secreted hovels, dimestore romance. Convoluted talk, empty gestures, soul-less ritual take up the stitches of time. Some brave midnight, if I learn my lessons well, I will eat the fruits of Hekate’s garden, dancing in piquant reverie, leaving my tears and anguish along the windswept trail. Ebullient music dances me as the Goddess kisses my tearstains into gold. Degree of my natal Hekate — a liminal year for the dweller on the threshold. The search is for clarity, expanding borders, introducing elasticity as integral character. To see, to feel, to merge and undulate through; to discover, uncover, swim in the glory of original grace, ecstatic beauty. To see, to feel, to breathe in all exquisite luxury of prescience; to hold, transmit as cellular energy. To paint upon translucent canvas subliminal etchings, private symbols generously revealed. Sagacity gifted, re-gifted, planted in potent fertility of visions, of cantations. The tinsel of starlight; the subtle scent of conflagrated pain; the feather touch of eternity. I fall into velvet voice, enchanting form. Move with the rhythm; caressed within word and worlds’ mysteries. Eve of Hecate As we approach the 13th of August celebration of the Dark Moon Goddess under shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled harlot stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths of what we cannot bear, cannot overcome Feel in the electric falling starlight Spells of renewal, of power to look back upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown yet changing still and ever, able, willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow invoking the peace of dissolving twilight of midnight's hopeful resurrection of the hinting flame that lightens before the dawn take peace into each breath, each incantation from the strength to align impeccably with your deepest truth The transition to the transformation of death is a different kind of birth. Hecate would understand, the Goddess of birth and death and the spaces between, thresholds, doorways, crossroads, limbo. Goddess Hecate, I understand that I am in your realm for this duration, for this direction in which you are moving my consciousness. Bless me, Goddess. Give me your strength of purpose and will, serenity within the maelstrom. The future is one moment at a time. The time is always now. Who I am to become will amaze me, I’m sure. Hekate Is My Cellar Door I am in awe I am prostrate in acceptance of such power as you bestow to me by incultation of your love Dynamism resounds in every fiber I breathe you in without resistance My exhalation is the stuff of bliss Tell your sisters to breathe with me. I have been working with an inner image of Hecate, the underworld, ancient, self-empowered goddess of birth/death/life. As I am understanding, her lesson is about becoming one's true self, unafraid of social appropriation because not in need of permission to totally embrace one's own magick. To begin to find this inner core (unless, I suppose, one is lucky enough to have never lost it), one needs to go through, truly feel and accept, all the pain and miseries of one's life, to learn that these are not what life is about, not punishments, though sometimes warnings, but just an interpretation of what is. A very long time ago, on a cold and windy winter night, a friend told me: open up to the cold and feel it, don't resist -- it is really warm. On those nights when I remember and try it, it really is. Hekate's Child Child of Hekate, sweetness and light? Where is the mark of your entombment? Buried prematurely, to strive for growth in dark enclosure striving for a breath of the pompously negligent Sun, of the blushing Moon of the squabbling sons and daughters, of daylight's pleasures. Striving, tenderly twisting around corners aching for an unknown touch. "Tell me, sir, then, how's it going now?" Looking up narrowly from a tepid meal, all at once remembering playfellows on the schoolyard running, out of breath, filled with pride a jolly good game. Always someone begging my attention, but it wasn't really me, just a story to steam off or a butt to joke on. All the silly give and take; only time is taken and that in big hungry chunks of no tomorrows. One long day now the part all groggy waking from fevered napping. It wasn't supposed to be a tomb nestled in Transylvanian bloodlines. It was meant to be a child's cot, freshly laundered cotton lace. But the rats got in, once the cats had been slaughtered. Slowly wakening I strive again to find my footing. Learning to walk was never as easy as forgetting to fly. Caught up in my Hecate role, I feel the power of my soul. Rain and wind and ice and snow I feel you all from here below, and revel in elemental energy. I am the wind, the seas, the fire I am all will and all desire. It is me you love, and me you hate — I am the master of your fate. Yet I am hidden from all sight, beyond the reach or need of light. I have found my peace, my place, my voice. Take heed, O’ mortal, create your choice. Create it every day.

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11toe11-blog · 4 years

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Horsewomen

May i enter. Quietly. For insight. And take back nothing but truth.

____

I sit here waiting.

I sit here waiting for you.

This is uncomfortable. This is actually a rather unsettling feeling. My breathing is no deeper than my upper chest. I am distracted. I want some distraction. Watch something nonsensical. Eat. Eat plenty. Something to comfort me. This sense of hunger, of not being full, no matter what i am putting in - from the healthiest to the junkiest.

He wants to mute me.

He is making pulao and raita. Just what i need maybe. Maybe with that i’ll be satiated. Calm this restlessness.

Weight on the chest. Cant go, oh damn! on it. Just watch it. Even if i spent the last month and a half working this weight off.

Actors freeze writers block.

Dont i have anything to write? After steam rolling for a week.THe point when i assumed things would come together into a giant revelation?

Breathe into the belly. Reach out from formula.

“What do i mean by…”

I miss. I miss kalari. Its a fact. I miss. I miss thiru. I miss. I am a miss. I am amiss, between a miss and a missus.

Something in the face sharts shifting. Music is hindustani. Kishori amolkar he announces, informs, sticking is head out of building pulao.

Watched S’s viva. As she discussed body widsom as the maker and keeper of stories, and the source of the individial truth and meaning making process we all search for.

Watched Su’s body leave her home of 85 years. Watched Su’s body after her spirit left its home of 85 years. He brows were tight together, as if frozen amidst a painful exercise to recall something.

Mid sentence, mid building he walks over for the hug, hug of reconciliation, hug of understanding, a hug to acknowledge, a hug to reassure - one of us, both of us.

A death happened.

Finally. After a dance on the edges that lasted almost 2 years. I remember sitting in the room with my therapist as art of the Art Therapy studies, and role playing with a strange dream, where i was arguing with R and having some experience of the Buzz road first floor centered around my possessions- why it cant be moved or something and his friends being around and me feeling alientated; while down in the ground floor abyss, the dreamer was distinctly aware of death waiting. The house didnt quite look like this, but was the same. In a way that spaces rearrange them selves in dreams, an additional corridor there, an elevation somewhere else, a door connecting two opposite ends of the house directly.

I dont know her at all. I have barely spoken to her more than a few handful of times in the 4 years that Buzz road has been my home. And none of the conversations have lasted more than a few minutes. She was a fine looking thin lady. Who i was told was a shell of her former robust self, and had alzheimer's setting in. So the main door, which is the common entrance to all the three floors had to be locked early enough. She would have anxieties otherwise.

Nothing too loud or boisterous.

Its never been loud or boisterous at buzz road from the time i have known it. Maybe when i got to know it, it was around the time it had gotten contemplative, retrospective, nostalgic. With not enough energy to hold the heightened states of merry making and large groups splashing their vibrance around. But finding them quietly in the folds of memory, back and forth, and reweaving them, alone.

I came into the quiet buzz road; a buzzing road thats quietened now, i realize.

People were talking about the sheer energy she possessed. I can imagine. Even when the last time we exchanged pleasantries, as i walked to junk the compost into the new compost pit we had going in the back yard, she was clear in her gaze, her glance inspire of all the tubes running out of her. Was that the last time she saw me? Or when i had my lungi pulled up, carrying the water cans to the first floor. I had put on an effort to be myself, anticipating judgements for my hairy legs, or my unconventionality inspite of my desperate attempts to fit into the conventional. Whatever conventional means.

I now wear diamond earrings to honor a memory. Of someone i have only met in books and ideas. WHo would have thunk!

He comes over from the pillars of pulao. Share a few grains of his memory.

The sense of community he is experiencing at the moment - in the virtual world with the responses that came in response to his tribute to her, -in this space, with his cousin who he felt he had nothing in common with. A point he always kept making. Until now, when he seems to suddenly have noticed a shared childhood. He accepted his cousin’s invitation to be there on the 10th and 13th day and was touched by the gensture, though he trailed off a “my beliefs are my own” as he made his way back into the kitchen.

From the kitchen he recounts and as kishori continues to inspire the pulao, how his aunt took him to the hospital after his infamous fall off the rockface, he had managed to get back home pushing his conked motor bike before fainting in the loo with a shirt soaking in blood. Quite dramatic. This bit of the story is new to me. I knew of the fall. And the 7 stitches. I didnt know she featured in the story, which i imagined to be the grand fall that shook the 3 worlds and its from that impact on the earth that i was born.

He was 18. My parents copulated. 1983.

This is quite a nice start to the mythical story.

What is this sentimentality? I am not a sentimental person. Sensitive yes. Sentimental? Not really.

In all senses i am aware of the fact that death doesnt mean anything. Other than the change of the playing scene. For the person who dies. Atleast for most people who die. A change of play for the actor.

For the co-actors, yea its awkward. Suddenly, the improvisation has new energy, an unknown. Space available for new possibilities.

Also a sense of a loss of the playing dynamics, which has to be refigured in new context.

Thats all death is.

And i myself must be dying in a million ways in the million multiverses, never mind “the other” dying. The infinite stages strung together and the actor playing out the infinite possibilities of each second.

The thought of him dying was obsessive,for last two years. Its only of late that i have been able to relax. Otherwise it was a high alert since his tryst with the fissure and bp. I would be up at night watching and monitoring the deapth of his breath as he snored on. The thought of him dying and the paranoia that set in was a pattern repeat of the tightly controlled panic I experienced regularly as a teenager when my mother came home wheezing and we spent the whole nights praying and trying to help her get some relief. With no one else to turn for help. Sheer holding-on to the the caregiver, protector, provider.

Sheer holding-on as the intermediate caregiver, protector, supporter.

Today i am lot more relaxed. The pattern that was triggered two years ago has eased. It gave a sample of the minefield of triggers that lay dormant in my mindscape.

Last night when he spoke of his will, after the initial reaction of sheer panic setting in, and then watching it pass, i was able to engage in the conversation - who should the bangalore house be left for? A. She has plenty in her name already. What about AV? Wonderful idea. He is a lonewolf with a strong sense of community. And will find some meaning and continuity, “make something with it, share it”.

Pondi house is for me.

There is no house in pondi yet. There is land in pondi. And our dreams for the home. Our mutual curiosity of this human instinct, nesting. What does it mean to make a nest with someone - which is neither his nor mine, but ours.

Pondi house is for us.

Its ours.

Quite fitting for the closet romantics that we both are.

Such a relief this sentence gave me. Pondi house is for us. Its ours.

What a burden it seems to be lifting from my shoulders.

My self image moves, glides past the harshly lit railings where it was held prisoner by my critical self - ever questioning my intentions of initiating and insisting on insisting on a home in pondicherry. Is it greed? Is it the easy way out? Are you in this for the money?

To something lit with a much softer glow of depth and wisdom. And love and respect.

Ustad Ali Akbar Khan takes the manch.

Nobody else may understand this. But we do. You and i, do.

That ours is a dance of light and shadows. We love and hate. Trust and mistrust. We make love with the enemy. Sleep, cook. Learn to trust. Love. The historical “ other”.

Far from Romeo Juliet. Far far from it. Infact, it probably starts where SSpere left off.

Imagine in play space: Romeo is reborn. Some 20 years ahead of Juliet, who was stuck in a limbo in some portal. And they finally meet. And there is nothing in the way- no warring families, no borders, no jealous friends, no helpful friends either - there is nothing helping, there is nothing standing in the way - except themselves. And all their assumption and presumptions.

“oh! I dint realize you were so obsessive.”

“Oh! I didnt realize you had such a nasty streak”

“You dont listen”

“This is far from the ever after i imagined”

Well, as i write this i suppose this is following the graph of every relationship there is. Nothing unconventional here. Inspite of all our ideas and stories of how unconventional this is.

Also, we arent really gear shifting because we have no kids.

Am i ok with that? Not having a child? Yes. In many ways. It will be nice to have someone to shape and mould and protect and spoil. But when i imagine, i dont think i will be doing something very different from what my mother did - circumstances and conveniences may be different - but the structure is the same - shape, mould, protect and spoil and love - with different degrees of ingredients - but still a replication of the process. Thats what nature is best at, no? Replicating. I dont want to do that. I can see past that temptation.

A cat will do. Or a squirrel. Or a raven. Or a garden lizard, according to him.

Coco.

One coco gone from the terrace. So many coco’s playing around in the goundfloor garden.

Sleepy.

Call with K is postponed to tomorrow.

Project Objex continues to delvelop and offer rich insights offline. Though the thread is held online. No, The thread is seemingly held online.

I find myself pretty uninteresting at the moment.

Stitching classes with mom is nice. Nice is a strange word. And a strange word is what i need to describe it. She is clear and simple. With sketchy camera angling skills. But in her area of expertise, she leaves me with no room for doubts or confusions. Reminded me of how she used to teach me as a child. I remember she used to say a thing only twice, if i made her repeat a third time, i would get whacks for not paying attention. And now she seems to be the epitome of patience, as i also notice my child self coming to the fore, to provoke and test, with disinterest and wandering attention and confusion. She holds the thread with such firm clarity and patience, that i notice the child self dissolving away, making way for me to inhabit the present. In the beginning, 15 minutes into the session, i noticed fatigue and disinterest and irritation setting. And by the end of the class i was clear and inspired and received the information she was clearly trying to transmit. I notice myself eagerly summarising all that i understood at the end of the session. Satisfaction and closure for her. And for me.

All that the giver has to give, needs a taker.

So that the giver can give fully and completely. And be free.

I feel when i am listening to my mother, i feel i am also simultaneously receiving from my grandmother. A line of women who understood cloth. And clothes.

A line of women, who were a few generations ago not permitted to cover their breasts, fashioning the most interesting and quirky ways of covering and revealing.

A line of women, some of who also sliced and placed a breast or two at the altar of life unlived.

A life of women who may have forgotten the joys of sun and wind and rains on naked breasts.

For me to understand R, i had to bring it closer to home. Last night the news of his aunts passing, meant that the inevitable event of his parents passing is clearer in the minds eye. I wouldnt have understood it, if i hadnt played out the scene of mom passing. And i notice that i keep telling myself that i will hold it together, like a stoic -like the stoic. Though the physical sensation is of a collapse a caving in. Like it matters. As if what matters is how i respond to it.

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...

Ashwini BIde Deshpande takes the mach.

The transformer catches fire. In a way that i have never seen it catch fire before - with a big long sideways trialing flame. And abruptly stops. WE gather candles and he goes to alert the watchman to make the calls to the electricity board. And i wonder if its a hello from the other worlds.

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden appearance of an actor...gentle drizzzle

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...and the only thing that matter there is how you respond to the moment, to the change in space, how i respond to a new space.

He does the tadka, a vertical flame lover the ladle he uses for tadka.

We are such theatre.

But why is our sensation of it so mundane and unheightned. As if there is no audience.

The sense of audience , of someone watching is what has fuelled most of the adventures in life. Like on is at once living at writing ones autobiography, and featuring in a biography, all at the same time. The vantage of the witness. Is what inspired this whole era of camera and film and now virtual.

Very many ways of the mirror.

The vantage of the inner witness. Makes me relax a little, teeny weeny, into the belly. The breath is quarter an inch deeper.

What was the word that mom used for leaving a little extra provision of cloth - side something...let me check the book. Not side - seam. Seam Allowance. At least i got the first alphabet right. S. Mom and me have a long way to here, i see.

I didnt realise or register that R’s aunt used to play male roles in the play. She was an actress. I didnt know R’s very married aunt was happy to flirt with the handsome doc while R was getting stitched up from his fall. But around her, knowing that she lived down stairs, and maybe from the kind of home she lived in and her seemingly very traditional exchanges with people around her, I shrank. I felt I would be judged for not fitting in line with the expectation of a space. Walked past her awkwardly, pausing only for pleasantries. Not visiting her in her room as often as i could have and as often as i wanted to even, for the strangeness of the exchange.

Nor having the balls to suggest playing some classical music to her. Some respite from the dreaded TV.

Did i judge her illness or her age or her wealth?

Made it all about me?

Wanting to listen to music quietly together with a practical stranger at her bedside, we must share some language no? Some connection had to have happened. Some step one and two had to be crossed to find that step three. Or could i have straight have jumped to three? Long and short, that want, which kept appearing as an image, i believed was a response to her experience of intense loneliness. And my helplessness.

Which is understandable, one of the first descriptions of her from people who knew her was how social she was -how she was surrounded by friends. Yet in the past year and a half she saw no one except the nurses who were with here round the clock, her children, daughterinlaw, sister who regularly visited and maybe us once in a while and her, and occasional visits from her nieces and nephews. Watched plenty of TV. And went in and out of a hospital. And lived in looping memory. Ate mostly from a tube. The dabba that formulas came in we now use to store flowers for the pooja room everyday.

I would have really liked to go and sit and listen to her, her stories. But i didnt have the balls. What if she rejected me. I would take it very personally. I would be very hurt.

Because i kept dancing on the brink of the rejections. Dreading rejections from R, from friends, from peers, from the kalari. That i so intensely yearn to belong.

And so imagining that possible rejection, and a cruel word - i never made an effort. Even when i wanted to.

Just before she left to the hospital the last time round, I didnt go into her room. Walking past the gesture of one of her nurses to come in - justifying it mentally with “not wearing a mask”. Maybe i was arguing a lot with R and had no bandwidth for the extended family at the moment. Maybe when i argue with R i see no reason why i live here. Maybe when i am arguing with R, i feel I dont belong here. And my whole presence here is a lie. And i dint want her too catch my dishonesty of intentions, of superficiality. My fears.

I have often been plagued by the feeling of helplessness here at buzz road. Much lesser now. This round of our stay has been far more hands on, “empowered”, and with room for changes and play of dynamics. Me allowing myself to do the things i feel like doing at the cost of being “seen”.

Noticing caste encoded in the body memory. Because i have no lived memory of it. My earliest association with identity is being told by my father that i had “no caste, no gender, no religion”, i was human and a girl as equal to any boy.

Why then did i feel my space shrink here? Did i subtly read your judgments without even noticing it? R tells me that you singled out your daughter for her dark skin. Not moer than half a shade darker surely, because i didnt at all notice any color variations in your skins; you all looked like you were from the same family and that was it. Is that why i feel great kindship with the people who work here - because i unknowingly somewhere by the color of my skin maybe they judge me as one of them?

So there is a story of rejection here that i picked up from the space and wove into my story.

Kabira khada baazar mein

Mangey sabki Kahir

Nahi kahoon sey dosti

Nahi kahoon sey bair

I spent an hour faffing to escape finishing this page. Because it doesnt seem to be getting over. One think is linking to the next and then to the next, faster than i can write.

Or want to write.

I can let go.

Yes.

I can let this go.

I dont have to hold on to it like the bag that L and I tugged between each other other over compulsion to be the ideal daughterinlaw/good samaritan.

Lets me just summarize to myself that today i glimpsed the family, this group of people bound together by blood relations, a lot deeper than i ever have. I noticed wounds, as much as i noticed bonds. I noticed bonds, as much as i noticed wounds.

And i have no idea how i walked into this story, which seems to be an epic in itself with my own sense of great mythical journeying. I want nothing from them except peace and resolving and healing of wounds.

And thats what seems to be happening.

No one is counting all this work we are doing in the GDP. I always liked micro economics over macro economics.

Something.

Sleep

___

I gently close the door behind me. Notice the skin a bit shirvelled from time spent a touch too long in war. Thank you for keeping me safe in your waters. Thank you for the waves.

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artisticvicu · 7 years

Text

"Tale as old as time..."

Xavier stared at the beast at the other end of the hall that he had been passing. He hadn't meant to catch its attention but it seemed as if it was a moot point. The beast's startling blue eyes were locked on him and, for the first time in his life, Xavier felt no fear for the situation that was most likely going to end in a painful death.

The creature turned slowly before suddenly charging. It was on him in a second and the only thing he could get his shaking legs to do was back up. His back it the wall just as the beast's teeth sank into his shoulder. He let out a choked cry of pain before forcing himself to relax. The creature had only clamped down. There was no tearing, no continued mauling, and Xavier forced an eye open despite the pain he was in. As he pressed a hand into the fur on the creature's neck, he offered in a soft, low voice, "It's alright." He felt like a fool but that didn't stop him from trying to talk the creature down. "It's ok. I'm not here to harm you. I'll leave as soon as I can. But you have to let me go."

The beast growled but Xavier felt the teeth leave his flesh. He rubbed a hand over the top of the creature's muzzle, offering an exhausted smile. He felt the tremor of surprise and anticipation beneath his hand but the creature didn't react much more than that, still watching him intently with those startling blue eyes. "Thank you," he urged past the black overtaking his vision. His already weak legs gave out from under him as he passed out. He wasn't sure why he didn't hit something hard as he completely succumbed to the exhaustion in his bones.

To say that the past week for him had been hard was an understatement. Not only had he woken that first morning to his shoulder tended to and wrapped in clean bandages, he had come to discover that the snow storm had yet to let up. The day after he discovered the castle was enchanted. Two days after that, the stable roof collapsed due to snow collecting on the old roof, injuring his mare enough that she would not be able to pull the cart till the abrasion healed and his stallion had never had the temperament to be a cart horse to begin with meaning he was stuck there for an unknown amount of time. The two days that followed that he spent patching the roof in the bitter cold and occasional snow flurry enough that neither the horses nor his cart was damaged. And not even an hour ago he came to discover that the creature he had encountered his first being here was actually a prince under a curse that could no longer be broken.

He sat staring at his meal, not sure how to process that last bit. The creature had left after their short interaction. How he had managed to get the creature to even speak to him had been incredible. At least, that's what the servants said. Supposedly it had been a year since the window for the curse to break had closed. The servants had thought they had been destined to be asleep forever but found they had awoken around three months later to a castle that looked more like ruins than an actual building and a prince that was no longer human; not one of the servants had seen him speak or behave like a human in the last nine months until just under an hour ago.

Xavier felt sick but he wasn't sure he knew why.

He pulled his hair up, the long locks just making him too hot. He had long since abandoned his shirt and glove, leaving his skin free to breathe as he worked. The large section of roof that had collapsed was only being repaired because it was over an area of the castle actually being used. He climbed the ladder to where a few of the servants were already working. They didn't make much progress on their own and Xavier only added so much, even after only 4 months of helping out. He really wished he was able to do more for them as he stepped up onto the roof, grinning at them. "Alright. Onto the next spot."

There was a collective sound of confirmation and Xavier got to work. It only lasted about 15 minutes.

He stepped on a rotting board without realizing it and the plank gave out from under him. He tipped sideways and, for that brief moment he was in limbo, he saw the horror on the tools before he was suddenly falling towards the ground. He expected to die but found instead that he was caught by none other than Adam. Shaking, he gripped the cursed prince's shirt, stuttering out, "N-n-nice catch."

Adam's arms tightened around him. "I'm glad I was able to make it in time. I think it's time for a break."

Xavier was carefully put onto his shaking legs and he nodded quickly. "Agreed."

His scars slipped his mind till they were brought up a week later. Adam had placed one of his large hands over the majority of the burn scar hidden by his clothing and he shuddered, a part of him fearing this confrontation as another was startled that Adam even remembered where the scar was. But, unlike the disgust and rejection - or heavens forbid pity for scars over 10 years old - he had been expecting, Adam offered comfort and sympathy, letting Xavier talk it all out before asking questions. It removed a weight from Xavier's shoulders he had not realized had been there. He found himself finally relaxing around Adam and their relationship became all that closer.

Xavier was surprised when the one year mark came and went. He found himself leaning on what remained of the balcony rail off of Adam's quarters on the date that was the second year mark for the curse's window closing. Adam came up beside him, still as large and burly as ever but looking well dressed. Adam placed a large hand on Xavier's back and the smaller man leaned into the warm paw, easily shifting to lean against Adam's very warm chest.

"How are you feeling?" Adam asked, the words a low rumble in the burly chest beneath him.

"Still can't seem to get warm," he confessed, shame burning his cheeks. Adam automatically wrapped his large arms around him and Xavier melted into the warm that wrapped around him with the gesture. "But this is helping. I'm also achy and tired but if I stay in bed for another minute, I will go absolutely mad."

"So you decided to come and settle on the cold balcony outside my quarters?" Adam chuckled.

Xavier shrugged. "It was a pleasant walk, to say the least."

Adam hummed before shifting his arms around Xavier. Xavier gave an undignified squawk as he was picked up. He held onto Adam as best he could but the prince didn't seem to have an issue with carrying him. Xavier's cheeks burned but this time it was out of embarrassment. "Adam! What-"

"I'm bored and the book I want is in the library," Adam spoke, cutting his words off. "And since it would be pointless to leave you by yourself, I am taking you with me and we are settling before the fireplace in the library for the rest of the afternoon."

Xavier settled down, trusting Adam. He gave a noncommittal hum and found that the motion and warm were lulling him to sleep. He fought it but found himself waking tucked up against Adam on the couch before the fire in the library, Adam asleep beneath him with a book resting on the broad chest. Xavier found that he was quite content there with the cursed prince and made no move beyond picking up the book Adam had started. Making sure to not lose the prince's place, he settled more against Adam, turning to the first page. His mind briefly turned to all that had happened in the last year and how he was looking forward to the coming year with Adam.

Movement drew his eye to the human servant dusting at the other end of the library. It made Xavier's stomach do a funny little flop. If the curse was breaking on the servants, then hopefully it would break on Adam as well. The man was not the man that had been cursed all those years ago. Adam - and even the servants - had told him how he had been cursed in the first place in a accepted resignation about the subject. Adam had come to accept his fate for what it was and regretted that it had involved the servants. Xavier knew he was not alone in his fleeting hope that Adam would one day become human again. Every single servant wished that right along with him.

Turning his thoughts back to the book in his hand, he started to read out loud, "This is a tale as old as time..."

#All the Creation #Creative and Prompt Writing #Quote Prompt #100 word minimum #Beauty and the Beast au #sort of #Beauty and the Beast #A Year Too Late

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