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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years ago

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Author’s Note: Here it is, the long awaited one-shot that ended up a mini story in length. This wasn’t a planned idea, just something I went with and this is the result. I know this fandom is starting to shrink due to the show ending, but I hope those of you still here are having fun!

Masterlist

Summary/Pairing: Ivar x Reader In which Ivar thinks he’s found a daughter of the goddess Rán

Wordcount: 9642

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut NSFW

The night was warm and still when Ivar made his way down to the stretching shore. It was a difficult trek the older he became because he had to wade through the sand that seemed to double his weight and sap his strength. After all that effort, he was reminded why he put himself through such a trial when he came into the blessed solitude. When he was a boy he had found an old fishermen's dock that was no longer used, and it was a quiet place he could go without being bothered. Sometimes he would look out at the water and imagine all the lands that were waiting for him to bring them terror and glory. When he was feeling less ambitious after drinking with his brothers, he would lie back on the creaking boards of the dock and gaze at the stars and wonder if the gods were watching in forethought.

His mother told him it was the sea that would take him from her. Her eyes would grow empty yet full of sadness, and he could only watch without being able to comfort her. Ivar wanted to journey, and he assumed his mother's vision meant that either it was by ship or drowning that he would be taken. When one entered a longboat to go raiding, the chance of a storm crashing down was always a possibility, but it was a risk worth taking for honor and legacy. He loved his mother, more than anyone, but he could not stay in Kattegat forever. His fate was out there waiting, and he needed only to extend his hand to take it.

A sudden movement in the water broke his focus and he looked out over the dock to the rippling surface. His eyes adjusted, and he thought his mind had gone when he recognized the whites of a pair of eyes staring back at him. There was a person in the water, bobbing just to their nose above the surface. At first, Ivar reached forward with his hand. They must have been frozen to the bone in the frigid sea. Kattegat's waters never warmed, even in summer.

When he looked at his hand cast forward, he felt foolish. With his useless legs, he couldn't swim. His upper body strength might support him a moment or two, but then sink and be wrapped under in the weeds before he could take a breath. He withdrew his hand only to find the eyes were no longer where they should have been.

Ivar scooted closer to the edge of the dock, searching the black water for the face he thought he saw. He rubbed at his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't slept well enough, or maybe he had ingested something spoiled during the last meal. He chose to believe his senses were sharp. They had kept him alive this long, and while trying to match his brothers no less. His eyes did another sweep of the shore before he called out, "I know you're there. You should know you cannot hide from a son of Ragnar."

His legs that dangled over the pier were parted, and a figure came straight out from the water to rest its arms on his thighs. Ivar flushed when he saw the figure was womanly. A beautiful and terrifying face, with large silver eyes, peered up at him. He had mistaken you for a woman, but you were something more. The hair that tangled down to your waist dipped into the water, and below was not a pair of legs kicking. Black scales with a pearlescent shimmer. You were one of Rán's creatures, or perhaps a daughter to the goddess herself.

"Ragnarsson," You spoke, and he was struck dumb by your voice. "Few may hear the siren's song calling."

Ivar's eyes shot to your hand as it trailed up his leg. Your nails were long, and there was a transparent webbing between your fingers. What surprised him even more than your strange claws was how gentle your touch was. It was a caress barely felt through his trousers.

"Who are you?"

You smiled. "I am (Y/N)."

"I am Ivar."

"I know you," You replied, and your sweeping hand switched to cupping his cheek. "You have your father's eyes and spirit."

"You know Ragnar Lothbrok?" Ivar asked while leaning into your touch. Your hand was warm despite the brisk waters you waded in.

"I know many faces of your home. I like to watch and learn from your people. Your father was a gazer too, but his eyes were to the horizon. You search the stars and night sky."

When you began to pull away, Ivar grabbed your hand and brought it back to his face. "Do you know my brothers?"

"I have seen them, but my song does not reach their ears. You are unique."

Ivar simpered. He could hear what his brothers could not. While they were off in barns and clearings, playing under the skirts of thralls, he was alone in the quiet of the night with a goddess. The sea had chosen him, though youngest and deformed.

"Why have you sought me out?" He asked, desperate to have his hopes confirmed.

"I wish to talk with you, and learn more of your kind. But we must always meet under darkness, for many of your people would rather hurt me than trust me."

Ivar knew why. Fishermen told tales of beautiful women taking sailors to the water, down to the sea bed of Rán's hall, never again to surface. He did not think you had the malice to do such a thing to him.

"How do I know you'll return? Is this even real?"

He couldn't help the creeping doubt from springing forth, and you flashed him a look of pity before plucking the knife from his belt. That got his attention, and he lurched forward to reach for the thing, but you held no ill intent. Instead, you pulled your hair over your shoulder and cut free a length to give to him. It was softer than any wolf pelt, and he clutched it tight to his chest.

"Giving a lock of hair to another can be one's undoing, so believe that I will return or curse me should I ever be treacherous," You said, and you slid his knife back into place before dragging your hand down his thigh. His cock gave a twitch, and your grin told him you knew. "Farewell Ivar."

You slipped back into the water like a needle through silk, and he was only able to catch a glimpse of your tail before you disappeared into the deep.

ooOOoo

Ivar went back to the dilapidated dock every night, and true to your word you would be there waiting in the water. You only approached once he took his place at the end of the pier, and Ivar would keep his legs apart so you would come rest between them. As you spoke of things unimportant, he would weave his hand with yours, playing with your fingers and the thin membrane of webbing. You would return the affections with little pets of your own, and you always left a kiss to the corner of his mouth before parting.

The lock of hair you had given to him was always with him. He had braided it together into a bracelet that he wore everywhere on his wrist. If his brothers thought anything about it, they never voiced such concerns. Ivar presumed they figured he had found his own thrall to be with, and as distracted as they were with Margrethe, they didn't dig further into his affair. His mother had noticed the thing as well, and always she would give it a long stare. Ivar always anticipated her to ask, but she avoided mentioning it as if it were a matter too delicate to speak of.

Ivar wished he could bring you to meet his family if only to brag to his brothers that you had chosen him. But he knew that could never happen. They would fear that you were a deceiver after his life, and his mother would have you killed to keep him safe. She probably would never let him near water again.

"Ivar," You called, clasping both hands on either side of his face. "Your mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Sorry," He said, looking away momentarily. "I just was thinking what it would be like to live our lives together."

"Come with me to the water," You suggested, and you gave a small tug on his arm that scooted him closer to the edge. He almost let you drag him in before he grew hesitant and pushed back.

"I can't swim like this," He said, scowling at you and then his legs.

"I will keep you safe." Ivar searched your face for any deception, but he only saw your smile. "You don't trust me?"

"I do," He said quickly. "But I…"

You heaved yourself upwards on the dock until it was just the tip of your tail whipping strokes in the water. Ivar caught your bare torso against his chest, and he flushed as your breasts pressed up against him. You were practically sharing the same air, noses brushing together as you steadied yourself in his arms. Your eyes met and you breathed a laugh that eased his previous concerns.

"We won't go far. I just want to show you that your legs aren't the burden you think they are."

You weren't pleading, and Ivar was intrigued by your suggestion. He gave you a short nod, and that was all it took for you to wrap your arms around him and haul him down into the depths. Your strength was surprising, but the admiration was banished from his mind the moment the cold water soaked straight through to his blood. He thrashed his arms, grabbing for purchase at imaginary aids that weren't there. When he tried to let out a shout, he swallowed saltwater. The sea was going to take him, just as his mother feared.

No. You were there, and you had never left. Like a spark to wood, Ivar was enveloped in a new warmth, and he floated to the surface with your arms around him. He took his first breath of air, but his throat was raw and he sputtered and choked. Your lips closed over his while he continued to cough, and it was as if you pulled all of the water out from his lungs. He didn't know if it was a real kiss, but he wore a shy grin as you pulled away.

"Breathe," You instructed. "Breathe, and look up at the stars you love."

Ivar first looked back at the shore and realized you had kept your promise. You had only taken him out far enough so his feet wouldn't brush the sandy floor. He then craned his neck up to the sky and found the familiar sight of his stars. They were the same out in the water as they were on land, a comforting thought for when he would one day sail away from home. The sky would always be there.

"Lie back and let the water hold you," You whispered in his ear from behind.

Ivar didn't know when you had maneuvered around to his back, but he continued to put his faith in you as you guided him down gently into the water. He was lying face up with his body floating across the surface weightless and free. You joined beside him, and together you shared in the silent night, bathed in the moonlight with the motion of the sea carrying your bodies. Ivar forgot for a moment about his broken legs. Drifting there beside you, he felt whole.

"You didn't answer me before," He spoke up, and you watched him with curiosity. "About us living our lives together. Is it possible?"

"There are those of my people who have given up the sea's blessing to live on land. Some may even live among your kind, though I doubt you would recognize them."

"How did they do it?" Ivar was sure even the dumbest farmer in Kattegat would have noticed a child of Rán flopping about.

"When my people choose to live a life as a land dweller, they simply have to go ashore. The blessing of the sea will fade, and in place will be a soft and weak human body, " You explained, and you turned your eyes away from him. "But the sea is vengeful and she hates those who leave her waters. Once the blessing fades, we can never return to her currents, or else we would be reduced to nothing more than foam that settles into tide pools."

If you were to be together you would have to give up everything you knew to be with him. Ivar wanted to ask this of you, but he was afraid of your answer. Being a prince as well as his mother's favored son meant he never had to work for anything. What he wanted he got, and always in plenty. If you refused him, he feared the rejection and what his reaction could be. He wasn't beyond forcing you out from the water onto dry land if it meant keeping you for himself. Better to not ask now. It was too early to demand so much from you.

He heard you shift in the water, and you were at his side again while supporting his back with your strong hands. "You don't want to ask me?"

Ivar shook his head. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"I know you will soon, Ivar. It's in your eyes, they darken with hunger."

"What would you say if I did?"

He let out a shiver as you righted him back into your arms, holding him in your embrace that let him know you were in control. "I would say that you could also give up your life to be with me. Right now, I could take you down there, and you would never again have to worry about dragging yourself upon the land."

The idea of never having to crawl again was tantalizing, something he had always wished for, and yet...even if he was with you, he knew he wouldn't forget all that he would leave behind. He wanted to show his people he could lead and conquer better than any man, even without working legs.

"I couldn't," He murmured.

"Then it is good I did not ask, and nor will you ask it of me. We will take comfort in the joy we have now, and forget everything else."

You met his eyes with your own. Silver, just like the treasures that were brought back over from raids. Ivar refused to fluster under your gaze, even though your peering felt like a piercing dagger. He wanted to appear self-assured, and not as some young lad who needed you to hold him. He pulled you close and planted a clumsy but heartfelt kiss. Your lips were cold but your mouth was warm, and he tried to keep up with your feverish pace as you devoured everything from the kiss.

When you clapped your hands on his cheeks, Ivar could feel himself trembling, and he knew it wasn't because of the kiss. Your mouth left him, and he tried to find your lips again. You placed a finger to his mouth to stop him and gave him a shake of your head. "You are like ice. I've kept you here too long."

"Not long enough," He retorted before sneaking another kiss on you.

You laughed while gently prying him back. "You have your father's confidence."

"Good, maybe you can find out what else of his I have." He gave you his best wolfish grin.

"We'll have our time," You promised, and you secured an arm around him before starting to swim back to shore.

The water seemed to grow colder as you glided through it and by the time you made it back to the pier, Ivar couldn't control his shivering. You urged him up onto the dock, and your concern had made you grow quiet. Ivar didn't mind that you fretted over his well-being, but he missed your smile.

"How will you make it back home?" You asked while looking over him to where the edge of the town was barely visible through the treeline. It was a long way off.

"I've travelled further," Ivar excused, though he had his trepidations. His damp clothes were sticking to him, and his hair felt like grass after the thawing in spring. The cold made his muscles tighten, and he wasn't looking forward to pawing at the ground with stiff hands.

"Go now, while you have the moon's light to guide you."

"When can I see you again?" It was becoming more difficult each time he had to leave you, and his thoughts revolved around when you could be together.

"I'll come back until I feel you no longer wish to see me." You reached your hand out to him, and Ivar took it, bringing it to his chest.

"That will never happen."

What he was saying must have been madness. Maybe you were Rán's daughter, and you had him under a spell. If you did, he didn't care. He would gladly stay under your enchantment. It was a warmth all his own, and a happiness he didn't have to share or contend with his brothers over.

"Goodnight my love." You placed your lips once more on his hand before returning to the sea.

Ivar did not watch after you as he usually would. It was a luxury he couldn't afford. The desperation to get inside by a fire drove him to turn towards home, and he struggled through the terrain as fast as his dragging would get him. He only passed by drunks and stragglers that did not give him a second glance upon realizing who he was. Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple. No one important.

He huffed his way up the stairs of the Great Hall, nudging on the doors with his shoulder until they parted. A low fire was burning in the pit, and his mother was asleep on her throne. She was still all done up from the last meal, and he realized she must have waited up for his return. His guilt propelled him forward, and he went towards her instead of his room. Careful not to wake her, he collapsed on the furs at her feet where sleep found him quickly.

Ivar didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he was startled awake by screaming. It took him a moment to realize it was his voice shouting, and he had jack-knifed into a seated position, clutching at his lower right leg. He knew he had broken a bone, and his mother, who was alert at his side, knew it as well. She called for two able-bodied guards to take him back to his room, out of sight of the thralls who had now gathered. None of his brothers were about, and he was relieved to be spared the humiliation. The weakness of his body during moments like this was only for his mother and the healers.

He was placed down onto the fur-covered palette in his room with one of the guards already off to fetch a healer. His mother was already trying to soothe his agony with her words, and as she brushed the hair on his forward she grew a frown.

"You're burning up," She said, feeling his forehead and then his chest. And your clothes are damp."

He swatted softly at her hand, frustrated with her observations but with never enough ire to cause her any harm. "Go away."

"Ivar, where do you go? All of these nights you leave my sight and no one knows anything about it." She plucked at the bracelet of your hair on his wrist before he jerked it out of her reach. "Who is this woman you see?"

"Get out, please," He begged. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, and he didn't know if it was from the fever or the pain in his legs.

He was spared any further argument from her when the healer entered with three other thralls to assist. With soft voices, they were able to make her leave, at least until they finished addressing his fracture. Ivar would have felt awful at banishing his mother from his side if he could summon any other thought that wasn't about the hurt he was feeling.

The trek back through Kattegat had proved to be too much, but he didn't regret the night spent with you. In the water under the stars, and in your arms sharing kisses was where he wanted to be. He kept those thoughts in mind as the healer got to work on setting his leg in place, slathering it in a warming salve before wrapping it tightly in bandages.

"My Prince, you will need to stay in bed for the next few days to give the bone time to mend."

He gazed up at the rafters of the ceiling with contempt. How was he supposed to stay put knowing you were out there waiting for him? He couldn’t let the time pass and risk losing you, but he would need help.

"Go and bring me Ubbe," He instructed one of the thralls who shuffled out of the room at his request.

The healer continued to try and force some foul brew down his throat that he cursed her for at every turn of his head. Ivar knew he was notorious for being difficult to treat, but this healer had stuck through the bad times at his side. He admired her tenacity. If the situation was reversed, he would have given up on himself a long time ago.

After he had taken a large enough dose of the revolting stuff, he was left alone. The medicine made his head foggy, and he drifted in and out of consciousness while waiting for Ubbe to arrive. His eldest brother was best suited for the task in mind because he was soft when it came to Ivar's condition. Hvitserk didn't care about his legs either way, and Sigurd made a point to disparage him at every turn so he was definitely out of the running. Ivar guessed they had to all be out to the hunter's cabin. Following the commotion he had caused in the morning, one of them would have heard about it by now if they had been in town. It was nothing new really. He was used to being left behind.

Just as he was about to slip into another fitful bout of sleep, his door was forced open and in came his brother. He looked out of breath from running at least half of the distance back. Poor, gullible Ubbe.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Ivar started to explain as he forced himself to sit up. "Another broken bone."

"Mother says you also have a fever," Ubbe retorted as he took a seat at the end of the palette.

Ivar groaned. He hadn't estimated that his mother would be playing watchdog. "She got to you already?"

"She's worried about you."

"What else is new? She always worries about me," He grunted out as his leg twitched in pain.

"It's not just her this time. We all are concerned. You disappear at late hours and you're always tired. Even Hvitserk has noticed, and haven't you realized that Sigurd no longer says anything to you? For him, that's practically a defeat."

Come to think of it, Ivar couldn't recall the last verbal sparring match he'd shared with his third brother. Had his time with you sapped him of his usual energy?

"I need your help with something."

"Alright," Ubbe agreed with a nod of his head. "What is it?"

"When night falls, I need you to go down to the water. There's an abandoned dock if you follow the shoreline westward. Wait there and call for (Y/N), and tell her what has happened to me."

"Is she the woman who gave you that?" Ubbe asked while indicating to the bracelet on his wrist."

Ivar nodded as he began to twirl the thing around. It meant more to him than an arm ring. It was proof you had chosen him. "She's a daughter of Rán."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see for yourself when you meet her." He smiled something Ubbe couldn't understand.

"Feel better, brother," Ubbe said softly as he made his exit from the room.

Ivar could feel the headiness of the brew still working, as he was pulled into visions of you. Together you danced under the moonlight. He could recall the feeling of working legs even though he'd never had a pair before. You glided with him in his arms, but Ivar could not see if it was feet you stood upon or you had somehow managed to balance on the tip of your tail. The strangeness made him privy to the knowledge it was just a dream, but he allowed himself to be carried away in fantasy regardless.

Sometimes his mother would pop inside to have a check on him. Her long hands caressing his forehead and pushing back his hair made him feel like a boy again. The worry on her face had settled now that he was no longer writhing in pain. They only shared in a handful of words while the healer continued to tend to him. It was their special connection, a bond she did not have with his brothers.

When night came and darkness fell, Ivar sat himself up against the wall and waited for Ubbe to return with word of you. It was the first time in a long line of sneaking away that he didn't escape to go find you. A strange emptiness filled him at the thought, and he rubbed at his eyes to combat the sleep that threatened to take him. He couldn’t miss the update about you because he had fallen asleep.

A thin stream of silver light poked through a cut out in the roof of his room, and he imagined you in the water beneath the stars. He wondered what your reaction would be to learning of his injury. Concern he hoped, and not pity or regret for the night they had shared.

As Ivar's thoughts began to spiral out, he was relieved from further gloom when the door opened. Ubbe had returned, and he had on a perplexed frown that furrowed his brow.

"Well, did you speak with her?" Were the first words out of Ivar's mouth.

Ubbe shut the door behind him before coming further into the room. "I called for (Y/N) and waited on that pier, but no one ever came, Ivar."

He took a moment to juggle that information in his head while Ubbe looked on with worry. You never showed. Had something happened to you? Perhaps you were riddled with guilt about taking him in the water or you had seen Ubbe from a distance but did not approach. That had to be it. His brother was a stranger who did not hear your song as he had.

"I have to go there."

Ivar threw the furs off and started to twist to the side. His broken leg protested the rapid movement, and he grunted through his struggle. Ubbe was already at his side pushing him back. He latched onto his brother's arm and tried to shove him off, but even his upper strength had waned and he ended up flopping back down like a lifeless fish.

"You can't leave this room like that," Ubbe scolded. He took a seat down beside him, preventing him from trying something foolish again. "You'll end up losing that leg entirely."

"What's that matter? I'd be no worse off than I am right down."

Ubbe sighed. "I understand you care about this (Y/N), but I don't believe she would want to see you harm yourself this way."

Ivar knew you wouldn't. That's why he had to see you again and be surrounded by your love. "You could take me there."

"We'd never make it past the throne. Mother has seen fit to have eyes on who comes and leaves your room. I think she is looking for the woman to blame."

"(Y/N) won't come here," Ivar said and he could see the confusion on Ubbe's face, but he didn't elaborate. "I've probably lost her forever now."

"If she truly cares for you, she'll still be there," Ubbe argued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "When you are well enough, I promise I'll help you back to the dock."

Ivar knew from past experiences that it would take many moons before he'd be fully healed. His eyes closed as angry tears threatened to fall. Why had the gods cursed him with these horrible limbs? The faults of his parents should not have fallen onto him. It was a cruel fate.

When he didn't continue to speak, Ubbe must have assumed he had fallen back asleep. He crept back to the door and exited the room as softly as a mouse scuttles through the kitchen.

Once he was alone, Ivar opened his eyes and took off the bracelet from around his wrist. He held it close to his lips, feeling the silk strands as he kissed the braided band. Maybe you could sense him reaching out. He decided to keep it enclosed in his hand and across his heart. If you were calling out, he would feel you in his sleep.

ooOOoo

In the many days that went by, Ivar became more frustrated with his leg. His broken bone was mending, but not fast enough that he was allowed out of the great hall. The slow progress had him taking out his anger on everyone, and they must have felt as trapped in with him as he was feeling about being locked up.

After a brief appearance to sit down to a meal with their mother, he had not seen his brothers again. This time he could admit he was to blame, and that they made the smart decision to cut and run back to the cabin. He had made the meal as uncomfortable as he could manage out of some need for vengeance. While they were free to run about Kattegat with their thralls, he was stuck in bed with wrinkled healers painting noxious salves on his body. He couldn’t be with you, so he chose to be spiteful.

Even his mother began to show signs of being fed up with him. Her smiles were now close-lipped, and she would linger by the door when she visited to make a hasty exit. He had yelled at her only once, and it had to do with her wanting to leave him just like everyone else. Ivar knew that wasn't true, and the moment she let out an anguished sob he had apologized.

Rather than continue to hurt those around him, he knew what he had to do. His leg was well enough that he could crawl again, and if he secured it tightly in his leather bindings it should protect the bone from any trauma as he moved. He had to get down to the pier himself and find you again. The call from the sea had him more desperate for water than a man dying of thirst. No thrall or guard would dare refuse him, and even his mother would not be able to stop him from going. He was doing this for her as well, even if she wouldn't see it that way. After causing her tears, he wouldn't be the reason for any more of her sorrow.

He needed the light to travel, so he began the trek from his room when the sun had only just begun to kiss the horizon. Much of the activity in the great hall had died down once the last meal had been served, and many of the thralls had already gone off to the barn. His mother was not on her throne. Ivar smirked at his good fortune and made for the doors as fast as he was able. Once he had them nudged shut behind him, he began his descent down the stairs. It was the most difficult part of the journey, guiding his body down feet first so his leg wouldn't bounce on every step down.

By the time he had cleared the treeline, the sun had set further and shadows were popping up in every corner. Ivar was more winded than he would normally be due to being bedridden, and he was mindful that he would have to work on building back the strength he had lost. But none of that mattered now. The dock was in sight. He had made it. He went together well with the solitude of the place, and when he sat perched on the end the creaking boards welcomed him home.

"(Y/N)," Ivar called out while searching for any ripple in the water. The surface remained still as glass, and he frowned while giving your name another shout.

Perhaps it was still too young in the day. He waited for the complete pitch of night to hit while letting his mind run wild with all the things he wanted to tell you about. It would be like a reunion of two lovers, and he couldn't fathom how one could be separated from their woman while gone on raids. Of course, his mother and father detested one another's presence, so it must have come as a balm to be away from one another.

The clouds parted from the moon, and one by one the stars surfaced in the sky. He called for you again, then held his breath to listen for any break in the water. Instead, he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, and over his shoulder, he saw Ubbe approaching.

"I figured you would try coming back soon," Ubbe said once he stood at his side. "How's the leg?"

"Stiff," He replied tersely. "What do you want?"

Ubbe took an uninvited seat beside him which caused Ivar to shift over. There wasn't nearly enough room at the edge of the dock for both of them, and the wood groaned with the added weight.

"I never told you, but I've been coming back here every night after you sent me to search for (Y/N)."

Ivar frowned. "Why?"

"Because I saw how important it was to you to get that message to her, and I wanted to help. I might not be able to take away your pain, but I will still be your legs where I can."

Ivar looked at his lap as the heat built up in his face. He never knew how to take to his eldest brother's kindness. None of the rest of them had it, but from Bjorn's mouth, it was said that he inherited it from Ragnar.

"She never came back, did she?"

Ubbe shook his head. "She must only come for you."

"I don't think so," Ivar said as he looked out at the water. "It's been too long, and I've missed my chance. I don't think she'll come back."

"If she cares for you as you do her, I'm certain she'll be back."

Ubbe's words floated off him as he gazed down at the black water. He was struck with an irrational idea to force your hand if you were near. Before his brother could react, Ivar threw himself off the dock and into the water. It wasn't deep this close to shore, but it was enough that he began to sink. Ubbe was quick to follow, and Ivar tried in vain to bat away his saving hands. He was so desperate to have you come back that he would risk drowning. What a fool.

"Idiot," Ubbe cursed as he dragged them both up onto the sand. "What were you trying to do?"

Ivar turned his head away as he coughed up water. He felt embarrassed by what he'd just done and angry that it didn't earn him anything more than soaked clothes. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand, and you won't help me to," Ubbe said, and his tone lightened from annoyance to mild irritation. "I need my little brother back. The one who's smarter than me at every turn, and doesn't make me fish him out of the sea."

Ivar started to laugh. It began in a quiet snicker and grew deep from his belly until Ubbe joined him. Neither of them knew what the humor was in the situation, but Ivar felt it was better to give in to the urge. He wanted to forget you weren't there, and giggling like a child with his brother in the sand was a good way to accomplish that.

"Should we head back?"

Ivar gave his leg a tug with his hand. "The bandage has soaked through and is starting to fall off. Guess I'd better have it looked at."

Ubbe crouched down beside him and indicated for him to climb up on his back. "C'mon, it'll be faster."

For once Ivar didn't argue. He couldn’t benefit from another disagreement, and he didn't want to be in wet clothes longer than he had to. Ubbe or Floki were the two he trusted most to support him. Hvitserk had dropped him one time, and he refused to let that happen twice. Sigurd never offered.

Once he was secured up to Ubbe's height, they started back home. He chanced one last look over his shoulder for as long as the water was in sight, clinging to the idea that you would spring up from the depths. The only movement out there came from the wind and the tide.

Neither brother spoke another word, but Ivar suspected Ubbe knew he had taken that last glance. How could he not? He wasn't ready to give up on you or accept the idea that you had abandoned him. Thoughts of you being in harm came to him, and he to banish those away because of the helpless feeling they gave him. You were a daughter of Rán, and the sea couldn't hurt you. Repeating it enough times had to make it true. As they journeyed through the night back to Kattegat, Ivar clung to the hope of seeing you again, and his thoughts warmed him up and dulled the pain until he found rest.

ooOOoo

Time passed by for Ivar and the pain in his legs dulled back into its usual ache. With his bone mended he could return to training with his brothers, and hunting up by the cabin. While his physical injury may have healed, it was not so for the throbbing in his heart. He had gone for sparse visits to the abandoned dock again, with each ending in the same sorrow until he had decided to give up going back. What's more, your bracelet that he had never let out of reach had vanished one day. Perhaps you had never been real, and he had dreamed you up.

What more could the gods take from him? First, it was his legs, then his father, and recently he was drifting from his brothers due to their infatuation with Margrethe. It was his mother he looked to as his constant, but she had grown distracted by visions. It was now common practice for her to disappear to her room after the last meal, when not so long ago she would be the last to leave with a chalice of wine. All of this left Ivar alone, and his thoughts had become unbearable. He needed something to dull the noise, a distraction.

More than anything Ivar longed to keep up with his brothers, and that's when he decided he wanted to fuck a woman. He approached Ubbe with the request to convince Margrethe. She had a pleasant face, and she didn't resemble you. If she had taken three of the other sons of Ragnar, he should be no different. Ubbe appeared torn when he first asked but did agree, and Margrethe was hardly in a position to refuse.

Now that the moment was approaching, and he was being brought over to the cabin by boat, he wondered if he would be the one to refuse. From what he'd always seen, men loved to hump a beautiful woman. It's what led to his parents' affair and marriage. So what was wrong with him that as he grew closer to the destination he felt ill? Ubbe certainly wasn't sharing the sentiment. He wore a dumb grin and was humming an old song to himself.

"You're happy I'm about to lay with your woman?" Ivar asked.

Ubbe laughed. "Margrethe isn't my woman, she's still a thrall. But I am happy because this is a good day for you, brother."

The day is still young, Ivar thought with a bitterness that was ingrained in his bones. Was sex such a powerful thing that it would shift who he became? Other than to have children, Ivar never dwelled on the matter. He'd never had a lover, and the closest he had come to obtain such a relationship was with you.

The boated jilted back and forth as it hit shallow water. Ubbe tied off by a tree before coming to fetch him. He was to be carried by his brother to his first tryst with a woman. Not nearly as humiliating as crawling he supposed, but the difference was negligible.

As they passed through the threshold of the abandoned cabin, Ivar stole a look around the place. It smelt like fire and driftwood, and there was a bed that had been piled thick with furs. The flame burning in the hearth let him know that Margrethe was already there.

Ubbe deposited him down on the bed and turned to get a look at him. "I'll leave now so you can be ready for her. Relax and enjoy yourself."

Ivar swallowed. That was easy for any of his brothers, they all had working parts. A handful of times he had felt his prick twitch and stiffen, but it was never a long event and he had never dared to try to take himself in hand. It was silly, but he was afraid of his cock.

He began to disrobe with haste, not wanting Margrethe to walk in on him without his trousers and his legs exposed. Once he was free of his garments he threw the heavy furs over himself and clutched them at his waist. All he could hear was his heart pounding, and he kept his chin tucked into his chest, straining to listen for the woman in the cabin.

She came to him from behind in light, cautious steps. Perhaps she was nervous, or his trepidations had seeped into the air and spoiled the mood. Ivar resisted the urge to peek until she stood at the side of the bed. When he glanced up he saw that she wore a fisherman's net as a veil. Her features were distorted, but he could make out the subtle difference that alluded to her being anyone other than Margrethe.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered and hoped.

You lifted back the thin mesh from your face, and you put on a dazzling smile. Ivar had never seen a better sight, not the first sacrifice of spring or the storms of Thor could hold a candle up to you. You donned a crisp white gown that was cinched at the waist with a strap of brown leather, and your hair was a wild tangle of waves. He had never seen you without your sodden tresses.

You took your first step to come closer, but you lost your balance and fell onto the bed in his awaiting arms. This was where you belonged.

"Shit," You cursed, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "I was supposed to be beautiful and graceful, but these legs are too light. If I run fast enough, I'm sure I could soar like a bird."

"You have legs?" Ivar exclaimed while pulling you onto the bed beside him with all of the strength he could summon. "Let me see."

You swung your legs across his lap, careful not to rest any weight on his thighs. He hitched the skirt of your dress up to your thighs, exposing the new flesh. His hands didn't know where to touch first. This must be the work of the gods. In place of your magnificent tail were two gorgeous limbs that he was happy to smooth his hands over. You wiggled your toes, content to observe Ivar as he studied you.

"How is this possible?"

"I told you my people can choose to abandon the sea. Now I'm a soft creature like you," You said while giving his arm a playful squeeze.

He caught your hands before you could pull away and placed a kiss on each of them. They no longer had the webbing or claws, but there was a strength to them that he could feel under your touch. "Where did you go? I tried so many times to find you, and I even sent my brother."

"You had your life up here, and I had mine below," You said as your eyes grew vacant. "When I did return to the surface, I could no longer find you. All of these things left unsaid caused us to miss each other."

"Then why are you here now, like this?"

You reached for his wrist, finding it bare. Ivar knew what you searched for. "You no longer have my precious gift. Did you think I turned treacherous?"

"I misplaced it. I would never have thrown it away, even if I thought you'd left me."

"I know," You said as you ran a hand down his bare chest and over his heart. "You were in more pain than I understood that night. The blue in your eyes."

Ivar tensed. "How did you learn about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"My mother…" Ivar knew his mouth was hanging open in question, and he snapped it shut to regain composure.

"She found your bracelet. It was her voice I could hear beckoning me to the land. She must be a powerful woman to do such a thing."

You didn't have any animosity in your voice, but Ivar couldn't help but feel angry for you. His mother had taken your life from the sea by force. He had considered the heinous deed himself for a time, but he would have never risked your resentment. What if that came to pass now that the unthinkable had happened?

Ivar couldn't keep himself from looking at you now. He wouldn't let you go a second time. "She said the sea will take me. Perhaps you are meant to stop that from happening."

"Or maybe I am the sea," You said, shifting your hips as you hovered over his lap. With a firm shove you had him down flat on the furs, and he nearly lost his air as your thighs squeezed at his waist. "Come to take you myself because I couldn't stand the thought of that Margrethe touching you."

And then Ivar realized...Ubbe had known he was taking him to you. You had been on land long enough to learn to walk and find out about his pathetic setup with the thrall. His face flushed and he turned his head to the side before feeling your fingers grasp his chin. You tilted his face back around, and he saw only tenderness.

"I know the weariness from being alone. My heart has been there as well."

"You'll stay?" Ivar knew he sounded a touch petulant, but he did not want to suffer another morning with you vanishing.

"Until the gods bring you home and the sea turns me to froth, I will remain by your side, Ivar Ragnarsson."

He didn't know who's lips touched first, but when your mouths connected, it was like being awash on the deck of a ship. You were a cool drink of water with the tang of salt, and Ivar threaded his hands through your hair. The more his hold tightened, the more it pulled him in like reeds in a marsh.

You withdrew slowly, and you held his gaze, even when he wanted to look away from the thrill of what you'd just done. With careful hands, you shed the veil from your head, and then the dress, all collecting into one pile on the floor with his garments. You were naked before him. All of your scales were gone in place of smooth flesh and pleasing curves. Ivar knew he was gaping at your breasts, how they rose and fell with each rapid breath you took. As you gave a coy grin, you peeled back one corner of the furs and slithered your way in beside him. You pressed up against his side, and his body went taut as you tangled your legs with his.

"Is this alright?" You asked while your toes brushed up and down his shin.

"Yes," He said as a puff of air escaped him.

It was stifling hot under the covers, and your hand seemed to sear his flesh as you dragged it up to his thigh. Your fingers just teased next to cock before brushing up his abdomen. Ivar shifted, his hand reaching yours to halt your motions.

Your eyes flashed to his, and you smiled with patience. "Tell me what you want."

"I…" He paused, unable to form the words, and he could feel himself losing his nerve. With a tighter grasp, he took control of your hand and brought it back down to his half-hard prick. "I just want you."

"You have me," You murmured back as your hand began to fondle his shaft. He continued to grow in your hand, and Ivar let his eyes roll back at the feeling of you working him. His cock had never been so stiff, and his free hand clutched at the furs as he tried to recognize everything he was feeling. Fluid was beginning to bead out at his tip, and he struggled to push you back.

"S-stop," He sputtered.

You pulled back with a shy expression, and you were breathing just as hard as he was. You enjoyed what you could do to him. "Are you alright?"

Ivar bobbed his head, not sure if he agreed or not with your question. "I was losing control too soon, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"Is that all?" You rolled yourself on top of him, pushing back the furs while the cold air of the room pebbled your nipples. Ivar looked up at you in awe. "Touch me then."

Your slick center was rubbing on the base of his shaft now pressed up against his stomach, and he could feel his hips give a few practiced ruts. He saw the flash of delight in your eyes, and you hummed out a moan that was as long as a horn that bellowed in war.

"I'm still adjusting to this new body," You panted. "I've never felt like this before."

Ivar felt a strong sense of pride for bringing you these new experiences along with him. Even though he lacked the skill, he had a newfound confidence that had him reaching for you. His hands felt rough and clumsy against your untouched skin, squeezing and pawing to see how much pressure to apply and where. Your breasts were soft and pliable while your backside was firm and rounded, and you leaned further into him as he grasped onto your cheeks. You placed a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat that had him moaning. He wondered if you could hear his heart racing.

"Please," He choked. "I need to feel you."

Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you pulled back to watch his face as you clutched his cock. Lining it up with your slippery center, you brought your cunt down to the hilt. Ivar was under no delusions that he would last long or immediately be worthy of infamy in bed like his brothers, but being surrounded by your wet heat, he thought he'd cum right then. As you sat up straight to readjust, he let out a gasp. You did too, only when his eyes cracked open to get a look at you, your eyes were shut and your face was screwed up in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" You whimpered, hands grabbing at his chest. It seemed everything about your human body was new.

"For human women, it does the first time." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you down onto the bed with himself still connected between your legs. It would be difficult for him to manage this way long, but it would be better for you this time. "I've got you."

Your eyes were blurry from unshed tears, but he could feel you relax in his arms as he began to set a slow pace. On the first withdrawal of his cock he could see a small amount of blood seep out which he regretted feeling thrilled about. You were his now, and he was yours.

The strength in your legs was unmatched, and as you grew more comfortable you squeezed at his waist with your knees. He knew his end was already in sight from the tightening in his balls and the burning in his gut. You had thrown your head back, hair tousled and mouth open to show your sharp teeth. It was the only telltale sign that you weren't a human, and he bought his lips down on yours to explore the fangs with his tongue. You teased back with little nips, and you gave a harsh tug on his hair that separated him from the sloppy kiss.

"Fuck," He breathed out, and his hips began to lose rhythm. "I can't go much longer."

You ran a hand meant to soothe down his back, but it only spurred him on. His hips snapped at a frenzied pace with his thighs smacking against yours. Nothing could stop him chasing the feeling of his release, and with a few more pumps he felt himself empty deep inside you with a profane groan. All of the strain he'd put on his arms to keep from balancing on his legs gave out, and he collapsed on top of you. Your hot skin stuck to his, and he could feel you twitch beneath him.

"Sorry," He whispered embarrassedly. He rolled off of you and his cock made a wet pop as it slipped out from your folds. "You didn't get to finish."

You rolled onto your side to look at him, still breathing fast and on the precipice of your release. "Forget that. This was about you getting to enjoy me tonight."

Ivar shook his head as he turned into you. "But I want you to enjoy me as well."

His hand dove for your core, chubby fingers fumbling around in your wet pussy that was now a mix of your blood and his cum. This was the first time he had felt a woman's warmth, and he watched your reaction as he felt around your lips and the tiny bud at the top. When he stroked over it with his thumb your legs jerked and you whined. He continued to swirl his digit around the nub while experimenting with varying degrees of pressure. You were now experiencing his love for you, and he could read what you enjoyed most with how expressive you were with your body. He settled into a comfortable pattern, and your hand shot down to join his when he hit a perfect cadence.

"Yes...there," You cried.

Ivar plunged his longest finger into your depths as you began to wither and shake. He could feel your pussy clamp down on him as you came, and he knew he wanted to feel that on his cock next time. Your eyes blinked rapidly as you started to calm, and he withdrew his hand, only to bring it to his mouth for a taste. You watched him in rapt attention.

"A warrior tastes the blood of his enemies in battle, so should he not also taste his lover's in bed?"

You brought your hands back together with his and pulled yourself against his chest. "If the gods willed it, then let it be so."

You laid in silence together, and Ivar felt your little puffs of air even out as you fell asleep. He pulled a fur over the both of you, the fire had long gone low and the night air colder. Indeed the gods must have willed it. Ivar now knew he was favored by the gods above all other sons of Ragnar. You were a daughter of Rán, and you had chosen him. His mother knew it as well, or else she wouldn't have summoned you back into his arms. In his heart, he had already forgiven her for taking the bracelet.

The sea had come to take him, and he had gone willingly into the mouth of the current. It was comfortable there, like a never-ending waterfall over rocks beating him down onto your altar. You opened it up and took him in, and now you were both drenched.

The cabin grew cold and black, and Ivar went to sleep beside you that night with the comfort that the stars still shined overhead, and that when dawn came he would not have to face another day without you.

Taglist

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#ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings #history vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar smut #ivar ragnarsson #ivar angst #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok

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maximoff-pan · 5 years ago

Text

Just Faking It? | Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When you and Peter enter a fake relationship, what does that do to your friendship? Can you keep yourself from breaking the one rule you set? Do not fall in love. Can he?

Character: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: It’s been a hot minute since I posted, but online school has been Kicking. My, Ass. AnyWAy....I am back now! I’m really nervous to post this and I knowwww the ending is trash but it just kept getting worse so (please bear with me). Hopefully my writing will get better. Despite my shitty scribe, I hope you can enjoy this, and maybe, even possibly like it???

Comments and feedback are also very much appreciated! A girl needs inspiration to write (if ya know, ya know)....

You’re minding your business (in your room mind you) when your door flies open, and in comes a flurry of grey. As quickly as the door is opened, it’s slammed shut. You know exactly who the culprit is, that part is particularly evident to you, but what puzzles you is the absence of a reason for his dramatic entrance. It’s like he thinks you can read his mind or something....(you can, but that’s besides the point). That’s not really what you’re supposed to be using your mutation for and Peter knows that.

“I really fucked up.” He eventually breathes. But it leaves you with more questions than answers.

You tilt your head towards him, squinting your eyes as if to challenge a response from him. So?” You ask.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Widening his eyes, he appears in a minor panic. “I come rushing in here, telling you that I fucked up, and your only response is: ‘so?’”

“Peter, if I had a dollar for every time you told me you fucked up, I’d certainly be the richest telepath in this mansion, and Charles owns this damn place.”

He cranes his neck in frustration, a sigh falling from his lips. “Well this time, I really fucking mean it.”

He’s fidgeting a lot more than usual, and when you glance at him, his eyes dart from yours. If you know anything about Peter, and you like to think you know almost everything about him, you know that based on the way he’s acting, that he didn’t just fuck something up for himself, he’s also fucked something up for you.

Disappointed, but not at all surprised, you ask, “What did you do? And how does it involve me?”

*****

Peter Maximoff has always had a way with words. No matter what he says...nor how fast he says he it, he can always manage to get you to do whatever he wants. Sure, to the average person Peter may be incessantly annoying, but to you, he is overly charming. He’s always just been so....perfect...for a lack of a better term.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried to bury those feelings. You really really have. But every time you’re near each other, your heart beats a little bit faster and your eyes just fixate on him. He draws you in with his infectiously upbeat, care free - who gives a shit it’s the end of the world, let’s just have fun - kinda vibes. It’s intoxicating as fuck....and so, extremely bad for you. But it’s what you need. You actually need him.

So unfortunately (maybe fortunately...it really depends on the day), Peter Maximoff has you whipped like the fucking whiplash he’s always warning you about...and whether he knows that or not is the real question. You hope to God he doesn’t; you’ve tried so damn hard to hide it. It....Them...Your feelings....And this is the trickiest part. You’re not sure when you came to this realization, but: You’re in love with your best friend.....

And honestly....shit...what the fuck feelings??? That is not a good revelation to be having. That’s never a good revelation to be having. And that’s for many fucking reasons, including but not limited to:

He’s your best friend

Did you mention he’s your best friend? Did you?

To top it all off, your anxiety about what is justifiably a crapshoot of a situation (being in love with your best friend is no cake walk friends...don’t try this at home) has risen ten-fucking-fold. Because you’d do anything for him.

And that’s how you’ve gotten yourself into the inescapable shit storm you have now: fake dating Peter Maximoff....

Look, in all respects, it could be worse. You’re not really sure how, but that’s just what you’re telling yourself to make this whole thing feel a little better. Damn you and being a good friend...You should’ve just said no. But how could you have possibly said it without giving yourself away?

‘Sorry Peter, I’m too busy being in love with you to be your fake girlfriend. Maybe later.’

You just couldn’t do it to him. He needed your help, and there was just no way you could say no to him. He’s your biggest weakness yet your greatest joy in life. He’s your kryptonite.

*****

Peter feels like shit. He thought dating you would be the best thing in the entire fucking universe....and it is. Except for the fact that it’s not real.

When Scott and Jean had called bullshit on Peter for telling them he in fact, does have a girlfriend, (when he really, really doesn’t), he panicked. So he told them the name of the first person he thinks of, the first person he always thinks of: you.

If Peter’s being honest with himsef, the whole conversation was stupid to begin with, and he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. But Peter lives for laughter, particularly making his friends laugh, even sometimes at the expense of a couple of his other friends.

It started off as a slow bit of teasing, and Peter was getting laughs fromJubilee and Kurt, who were both quite enjoying his little comedy fest. Peter in his carefree manner, jabbed joke after joke about Scott being whipped by Jean, mocking their incessant pda and need to be around each other, when Scott threw it back at him.

“Have you ever even had a girlfriend Maximoff?”

And that’s when Peter fucked up.

That’s when he proceeded to say: “Fuck you Summers. If you must know, I have a girlfriend.”

I have a girlfriend...present tense. Which is nothing but a lie. A blatant, blatant lie. But it just slipped out of his mouth, and while Scott and Jean both called bullshit, he couldn’t back down at that point. It was far too late, and would be far too embarrassing to try and weave himself out of the web he had created. So he told them he was dating you, which...fair. You already act like you’re dating 99% of the time, and you are in love with each other (not that either of you knows the other’s feelings on the matter), so it would seem very believable....But the big problem with this blurting of words (as Peter had called it later), laid in the fact that Peter had to do this without your consent. You had no idea nor a choice in being brought into this, and that’s why Peter feels like he’s fucked up so much.

Because as much as he wants to date you, and as much as he loves dating you (even though it’s all pretend), he can’t help but fear that you resent him for bringing you into his problems. If you do resent it, you’re doing a pretty damn good job of hiding it. Every person that has passed by you, the news of your relationship spreading fast, has told you: it was only a matter of time. And then they’d smirk at you, seemingly proud that they had predicted this all along.

And yet, it’s all fake, and all your classmates and teachers, (except Charles...because he knows the both of you too well and honestly is too fed up with your shenanigans to intervene), are wrong. They’re being fooled...but Peter can’t help but wonder if he’s the one being fooled. Because it feels so real. Too real.

*****

He holds your hand in the halls, swinging your arm back and forth teasingly, telling himself that he’s only keeping up appearances, and yet his whole aura brightens. Peter’s not acting, and the fact that you are genuinely scares him. Because you’re so believable, and it hurts so much to have you, but to know it’s all a lie.

“I guess I owe it to you Maximoff.” Scott sneaks in between you two, breaking not only your hands apart, but popping the blissful bubble you had been in. “I’ve never seen two people so right for each other.”

The smile drops from Peter’s face, but like always, you’re there to save him. “I know.” You send Scott a sly grin. “You never should have doubted us.”

Us, Peter thinks. He knows you mean it, in the sense that you’re best friends, but it only hurts him more. The frown on his face tightens, as he attempts to avoid your gaze. He can feel you pulling him into your side, wrapping your arms around him. This action snaps an automatic response, and his lips pull into a soft smile, his face relaxing.

“Never will again.” Scott smiles fondly at the two of you, seemingly genuinely happy for you.

You place a kiss on Peter’s cheek, nearly grazing the corner of his mouth, and in that moment he wants you to kiss him, for real this time. It’s an urge he’s had before, but never as innate as this.

On instinct, he turns your body so that you’re facing him, and he kisses you. It’s instantaneous and it feels so so right. Your initial shock fades away and you lean into the kiss, your arms gracefully resting on Peter’s shoulders, slowly wrapping loosely around his neck. You raise onto the tips of your toes, desperately yearning for more. It feels like a tidal wave washing over you, soaking you in a plethora of feelings.

This has to be something, you think. What you have...it must mean something. Because you can feel his energy, his thoughts and desperations pouring into your mind. His exact thoughts are blurred, but you can feel the emotions that are flooding through.

“Jeez. Message sent.” Scott mumbles with a slight joking tone in his voice. “I’ll never make that mistake again.”

By the time you let each other go, Scott is retreating down the hallway, and you stare sheepishly at each other, both of you wondering: what the fuck was that?

*****

Nearly half an hour later, you’re once again sitting on your bed, when Peter comes barging through your door. A strong sense of déjà vu washes over you, your eyes quickly darting to his. To Peter, that half an hour feels like multiple. You should have remembered that his internal clock works a lot differently than yours.

The expression on his face is pained. “I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I know I fucked up.”

“Peter-“ you try to interject, but it’s no use.

“I don’t know what I was thinking (Y/n). I just...I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake and I didn’t mean to drag you into my shit...”

It was a mistake. Your heart drops. You could have sworn that there was something between you, that it wasn’t as one sided as you had once thought.

“Do you regret it?” You’re trying to convey a front on neutrality, but it feels like it’s faltering.

“Of course.” He replies, and your heart shatters further.

“Oh.”

Your voice sounds so dejected that Peter has to rewind the tone of your ‘oh’ in his mind. Did you think it meant something? Did it mean to you as much as it means to him?

“(Y/n).” His eyebrows raise in conflict. “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright Pete...I understand.” You’re warm with him. You think he’s just turned you down, and you’re being so kind to him, trying to make it easier for him. Little do you know about the war he’s fighting in his mind. Just how much he wants to tell you how he feels. “It was silly of me to even entertain that it meant anything.”

But it did! But it does! He wants so badly to say, but the words won’t come out of his mouth. Blurting words before he could think of the repercussions was what had gotten him into this situation, and now that he needs to blurt what he’s thinking, his mouth can’t seem to move.

You can see the look on his face. He feels guilty. He doesn’t want to hurt you. It was foolish of you to say yes to him, to being his fake girlfriend, when you knew this would happen.

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You’re really trying to demonstrate to him how much you hope this hasn’t ruined your relationship. “It’s okay. I’m so okay, as long as we can still be friends.”

“No!” That’s the one fucking word that Peter is able to get out of his mouth? No?

Your eyes drop to the floor, and you avoid his gaze. Just a few days earlier Peter had been talking about just how much he’d fucked up, now you guess it’s you who’s the one that fucked up.

“Oh.”

And there’s that dejected ‘oh’ again that has Peter reeling. “That’s not what I meant!” He pushes the words out.

You’re becoming more and more flustered, embarrassed, and confused by the moment. “I don’t know what you want from me Pete! Just be fucking straight with me. That’s all I ask.”

Your frustration is understandable and Peter knows it...does he ever. He’s thinking, trying to get the words to come out when an idea comes to him, and he finally is able to calmly state: “Read my mind.”

Now this is a complicated statement for a number of reasons. The first reason is quite simple. When you became friends, you and Peter had made a set of rules, promising to always be open with each other, and to never use your powers on each other. And that was Peter’s biggest rule: never read my mind. Now he’s telling you to, pleading you to, because it’s the only way he can tell you how he feels. His thoughts could never lie to you, they could never hide from you if you didn’t want them to.

And second, breaking that rule would mean breaking that promise. It goes against the very foundation of your friendship, and so for Peter to ask this of you, it must mean that he has something very important to say. You’re just not sure you’re brave enough to hear it...

“Peter,” you question, tilting your head in absolute confusion, as if to say to him, are you sure?

“Read my mind.” He affirms. A look of panic crosses your features, and when he sees the distressed you are, he nods gently. “It’s okay. I promise. You can do it.”

You nod your head, signaling to him that you’re going to do it. “Okay.” You say timidly, entering the complex of his mind.

You’re flooded with memories of the two of you together, laughing and beaming with happiness. Pushing through the visuals, you reach his thoughts, allowing your mind to hear them clearly. After years of blocking them out instinctively, it feels so foreign to open that door.

‘I love you.’ It’s Peter’s voice in your mind. It’s unmistakable, yet so surreal that you almost miss what he says...almost. ‘I’m in love with you.’

Your eyes blink open in shock, pulling yourself so suddenly out of his mind, the door to his thoughts slamming shut once again. He’s watching you patiently, waiting for your response. But Peter’s never really been one for waiting.

“I never wanted it to be fake you know.” He breaks the silence for you. “If I had known just how hard it would be to fake our relationship, I never would have thought of saying your name in the first place.”

A chuckle of relief bubbles from your throat. “You better not be fucking with me...”

“I’d never do that.” He says.

“I beg to differ.” You joke, eyes staring softly into his. “The amount of times you’ve fucked with me on shit is insurmountable.”

“Hmm.” He grins menacingly. “And yet, I’ve never fucked you.” He raises one eyebrow in a mockingly seductive manner. Only Peter would make a sex joke to lessen the tension...or to ruin what would’ve been a perfectly romantic moment....you’re not really sure which.

You nearly choke on your own laugh. “Already jumping to third base Pete? Last time I checked, you were only on first.”

“That’s cause I’m so fucking fast baby.” His wink sends you into an internal conflict. and you don’t know if it’s really funny, or really hot. His eyes are pouring into yours, as if daring you to just kiss him...

...So you do. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck as you pull Peter’s lips onto yours. He melts into your embrace almost instantly, a giggle bubbling in your mouth as he moves his hands up from your waist.

He pulls away with a dumbstruck smile on his face, his silver hair flopping in all directions. “I want to make this real.” He places a hand softly on your cheek.

“I do too.” You reply, hopefully.

His eyes soften at the sight of you. “Be my girlfriend? For real this time?”

“For real this time.” You nod, a grin stretching across your face.

And it’s truly the most at peace you’ve ever felt in your life. Which will probably last all of five seconds before Peter comes running back to you, telling you he’s fucked something up again, but that doesn’t matter to you, as long as you have each other.

“Maybe, for once in my life,” Peter’s voice is low and calm, “I didn’t fuck something up.”

Maybe for once in his life, Peter Maximoff had gotten something right...

*****

Tags:

@idjitdestiel @what-the-stories-have-foretold @lucyqueenofthestars @justsomerandomjunk @cherikxstucky @scorpionchild81

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff imagines #peter maximoff x you #xmen x reader #xmen imagine #xmen imagines

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crazycatsiren · 4 years ago

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Frequently asked questions for the modern day tarot reader

The art of tarot reading, and cartomancy, has come a long way.

When I got my first deck of tarot cards a decade and a half ago, it seemed like there wasn't that much to it. There weren't even that many tarot decks around. I was the only tarot reader I knew. I had no one to teach me. I learned it completely on my own, then practiced by doing readings for friends, for people interested, for fun at parties and social gatherings.

Virtual/online tarot readings weren't even a thing back then. So different from today.

I've certainly had my fair share of questions for why I do things the way I do when it comes to tarot reading. And since I'm planning on expanding my divination practice and making it more available, I have decided to compile a list of FAQs, that will hopefully, answer at least some of your questions for how I work as a tarot reader.

Why no "yes/no" questions?

Because from my studies and my experiences, there are no "yes/no" cards. Tarot decks tell stories. Each card is a piece of the puzzle that fits into the story. Each card is a strand that weaves into an intricate web. Each deck has its own voice that's unique to its theme and storyline. Each card is multifaceted, multidimensional, and multilayered. In my opinion, there is no card in a tarot deck that's black and/or white. No matter how I interpret each and every card of the 78, upright or reversed, within or without the deck, there's just no assigning a yes/no value to any of them. Depending on the context, any card can be a positive or a negative message, or both, or neither. Tarot cards are not flash cards. Despite the general universal meanings that can be attached to each card, no two readers will interpret a card exactly the same.

Do you do readings about relationships?

It very much depends. I flat out will not do any reading that could potentially probe into someone else's life or free will without their explicit consent. Neither you, the querent, nor I, the diviner, have another person's permission to intrude upon their privacy in a tarot reading. I'm not ethically comfortable with anything along the lines of "whom will I marry", "how can I make this person do this thing for me", "how does this person feel about me", or "what can I do to get my future husband/wife to marry me". I'm also not going to reach out to a person for you. I'm neither a matchmaker nor your personal wingman. That's not my job.

Do you do readings on deities?

Also very much depends. I don't do "phone calls with deities" readings, period. It's just not my place. I'm not an oracle. I've not been chosen by the gods to speak to the people on their behalf. Presuming that I can speak for the gods, or that I can get a god to speak to another mortal through me, would be hubris. Not to mention, it's downright disrespectful to presume that gods should sit around with nothing better to do than to be at our beck and call, whenever and wherever we will. Gods are not here for us to conjure, summon, or channel to do our biddings. I'm also not going to contact a god for you, or introduce you to a god. That's something that you need to do yourself, and not anyone else's responsibility. I don't do "which deity is reaching out to me" readings either. I'm not going to say others shouldn't, but I personally think everyone receives and interprets signs and energies from divine beings differently. What I sense from a deity might drastically defer from what another senses. And how I read a deity's message might drastically defer from how someone else does. I might be sensing an energy that I attribute to one deity, another sensing the same energy might attribute it to a different deity. Our biases are going to creep in, no matter how objective we try to be.

Why do you need any personal information?

If you want an in depth reading, especially one that you're paying for, I'm going to want to be as thorough and accurate as I possibly can be. That's just who and how I am as a diviner. It used to not be a problem. People would come to me physically for readings, and their physical proximity was sufficient. When I'm doing a reading for someone face to face, their presence in my space alone is enough for me to tune into their energy and connect the reading to them. Nowadays, with distance and especially COVID being an issue, bringing my practice online has been an adjustment period. Keep in mind, I don't know anything about you. I'm not able to feel your physical presence through a computer screen. With nothing more than a social media account to go on, you're an anonymity. You're unreachable. You're an unknown. I'm going to need something (a name, a place, a photograph...) to connect to you, to tune into your energy. If you're paying for a service, then I want you to get as much out of it as I'm able to offer. It's why anything deeper than a casual/informal 1 to 3 card draw that I can do anytime anywhere is strictly through email only, so I can keep personal information secure and confidential. You want to pay a bunch of money to someone on the internet for a superficial/cold reading with just a Tumblr username? That's up to you. There's a lot of "those" out there, that's for sure.

Why no death related questions?

Because who am I to think that I have the ability or the right to meddle with the natural order and cycle of life and death? I'm not a god, a fate, or a prophet. Once again, hubris.

That's all for now, folks. If you have specific questions regarding my divination practice in general or my tarot reading practice in particular, you are always welcome to ask me personally.

#witchy queue #tarot reading #divination #tarot reader #tarotblr #witchblr #witches of tumblr #witch community #diviner #diviners of tumblr #divining witch #divination practice #tarot reading practice #personal #tarot #cartomancy

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marvelobsessedteenager · 4 years ago

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All The Hurt - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: The amount of love I've gotten is absolutely incredible. Thank you guys for the support! Enjoy :3 -----------------------------------------

Flash had suggested driving both him and yourself to Liz’s house, and you agreed, simply because car rides with him were more fun. You got there earlier than anyone else, giving Flash time to set up his DJ equipment and speakers while you helped Liz and Betty set up the lights, food, and drinks.

Not an hour later and the house was full of people that you knew and didn’t know, but welcomed anyway. Everybody walking around was having a good time, drinking soda out of a red solo cup and dancing to Flash’s party music. You would be lying if you told yourself your eyes weren’t examining the dance floor for a particular bed of curls.

In your mind, you knew there was no way Peter knew Spider-Man. You saw it in the way he told everyone he did today at the gym. His left hand was wildly shaking — a clear telltale of nerves you’d figured out long ago.

Something else was bothering you, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That bruise. You knew for a fact Peter wasn’t a fighter, mainly when it came to bullies - words or actions. He never retaliated, which is why people considered him an easy target. You wouldn’t put it past him to allow himself to get beaten up, but you would have known if that’d happened. Flash was definitely his number one bully, but he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Peter, and neither would any of his friends, especially since they all knew your history with Peter.

They were all bark and no bite, which meant that there was another explanation for it, but for the love of God, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

And speak of the devil.

You smirked as you caught sight of him, worried thoughts vanishing as you weaved your way through the crowd to Flash, whispering in his ear about your discovery. He flashed you a wicked smile, turned down the music, and grabbed the mic.

“Penis Parker! What’s up?” Flash yelled into the mic, causing Peter to freeze and turn to look at Flash, who was pointing right at him.

“Hey, Y/n,” Flash pretended to search the crowd then turned to you, “Where do you think his pal Spider-Man is?” He placed the mic below your lips and waited for your preplanned answer.

“Hm, let me a guess.” You sweetly said, tapping your chin like you were thinking, “in Canada with his imaginary girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, eyes boring into Peter’s with fire burning behind your pupils, your brain ignoring your heart that was begging you to stop upsetting him as you caught the flash of hurt that crossed his features.

The crowd laughed and “ooh” ed as Flash played a “burn” sound effect, “That’s not Spider-Man,” He jutted his chin towards Ned, “that’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

You watched him walk away from the giggling crowd, fuming, and you bumped your fist with Flash's in victory. He turned up the music, and you made your way to the dance floor with your friends, as you swayed your hips to the loud tune. Your group sang loudly to the songs, and though it was deafening and off-tune, you never felt freer than when you screamed the lyrics with them.

At some point, your voice started sounding raspy, and your throat was begging you for some sort of liquid to heal the ache. You excused yourself from the group, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup, filling it with cool water and chugging it down.

But, of fucking course, someone had to ruin your night and your favorite white dress by bumping into you and spilling coke on your outfit. That someone was a girl with piercing blue eyes and brown hair — someone you didn't recognize. It was clear she didn’t go to Midtown considering she squeaked an apology and ran to her friends, who glanced back at you and immediately dashed out of the house.

Great.

You would ask Liz for another dress, but you weren’t exactly tight with her. You’d also ask your friends to take you home to change, but as you looked at them jumping around and bobbing their heads to the music, you figured they were having too much fun, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

You would normally call your driver, but you hadn’t had the chance to set up your new phone just yet.

Sighing, you grabbed your denim jacket you hid below the counter earlier, put it on, and began your journey home on foot. Your house was located about thirty minutes away from Liz’s, which wasn’t really a big deal for you.

About fifteen minutes of strolling in silence and kicking any rock that caught your eye, you passed by a playground that looked familiar. It was the very same playground you and Peter would play in when you were children. You’d take turns pushing each other on the swing, and when you were old enough to do it yourself, you would both compete to see who’d go higher and who could jump off the swing the farthest. It always resulted in an injury, but you two always laughed it off, especially when Jane would run over worriedly with a first-aid kit.

As you went into your early teenage years, you’d meet at the playground alone and climb to the top of the dome climber with different (and disgusting) flavored milkshakes, exchanging it with each other every now and again, and watch the river flow peacefully.

The same river in which Iron-Man is flying out of with Spider-Man in his arms.

Wait, what?

You snapped out of your reverie and did a double take before you quickly dove into one of the many bushes, the quick rate of your heartbeat becoming a distraction from the fresh cut on your exposed neck from the sharp branches.

You could see everything that was happening in front of you, but not necessarily hear everything. Your wide eyes curiously peeked over the bushes, watching as Iron-Man placed Spider-Man on the dome. And maybe it was your hearing, but you swore you knew the high pitched voice that was exaggeratedly saying something.

You saw Spider-Man tug his mask off and wring it out, which made the back of his head incredibly visible. Brown hair. Or maybe black. It was too dark to see the difference. You debated moving a little closer to hear the conversation.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right. Spider-Man was entitled to protect his identity. But you could keep a secret. Besides, maybe this could be the moment you’d thank him for saving you. You doubted he’d remember what he did, but you’d never forget.

So, you crept a little closer to make out the words, despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t.

“What were you thinking?” Iron-Man asked in a way that made you believe Spider-Man was in trouble.

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons, I gotta take him down!”

Wait. That sounds like-

“Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” Iron-Man said, waving his arm around.

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no, just a little below their…pay grade.”

“Anyway, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I-I had that. I was fine.”

But that was all you could hear. Because as the conversation went on, the gears in your head begun turning, the dots seemed to connect faster than you could comprehend.

The strange bruise on his jaw after it was shown on the news that a certain superhero fought robbers at the bank across Delmar’s. Him running out of school once it was over. The fact that he left school for two weeks and mysteriously came back. Him ‘allegedly’ saying your name when he saved you. All the times he ditched you in the past were the same times Spider-Man was on the news for a heroic saving. You remembered because you’d send the news to Peter. The “Stark Internship” excuse wasn’t real.

But this was.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker saved your life.

The amount of information was loud. So, so, loud. You couldn’t hear the bickering that went on. A rush of emotions went through you. The first was rage. Is this it? Is this is his reason for letting you go? He couldn’t have just been honest and told you? You bet he told Ned. But he couldn’t tell you, could he?

But just as quickly as it came, your anger left you, instead being replaced with worry. You hated to admit it, but you were worried about him. How could he go out there every day and put his life on the line like that? What about his wounds and injuries? Did he suffer through those alone? Or did May help him heal?

Does May even know? Does anybody know?

Lastly, panic, and that was the strongest of them all. Holy shit, you thought, I just found out that my ex best friend and former crush is a superhero. He shoots webs out of his hands or something and sticks to walls and saves strangers and fights criminals and-

And Iron-Man is flying away.

And Spider-Man is walking in your direction.

I need to go.

As soon as you turned around, still crouched but ready to fucking bolt, you accidentally stepped on something hard, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your hissing inside. Once the pain slightly subsided, you looked downwards and moved your head closer to the object. A loud purring sound was emitting from it, and if there was anything in this world that screamed danger, it was this.

You were careful to pick it up and examine it. In the middle of this..machine was a bright purple stone and it was fucking glowing. You looked around you and caught Spider-Man muttering something to himself right before an obnoxious ringing made its way into your ears, prompting you to cringe and put your hands over them as you crouched.

It’s the same annoying fucking ringtone as Peter’s.

You waited for him to move a little farther, and when he did, you peeked from behind the bush. He had just closed the phone and continued his walk. You didn’t know if this thing was a bomb or something explosive, so throwing it in his direction was already ruled out. Besides, he was already beyond throw distance. You knew the safest way to get it to him.

You knew what to do. You hated that you did, but you had to do it.

Maybe hearing him talk to you would confirm or deny your hypothesis. Anybody could have brown hair, a high-pitched voice and the same ringtone as your ex-best friend and be a superhero that saved you two weeks ago.

You took a deep breath to calm your hammering heart from ripping through your ribcage and escaping. “I hate my life,” you mumbled as you rose and followed him with your heart still beating out of your chest, almost sure it was louder than your barely audible footsteps.

Don’t trip, don’t trip.

When you got close to him, close enough to tap him on the shoulder, he quickly turned around and got into a fighting position with his fists ready to punch. You were so shocked that you dropped the object and backed away with your hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. ”

Upon seeing a citizen (that he knew too well) he dropped his stance, “S-uh..sorry. I-I thought you..uh..” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?” He said, very clearly thickening his voice and awkwardly placing his hands on his hips.

But you knew that sound anywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It is him.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you felt it clogging your ability to breathe.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/n.” You mentally smacked yourself. He already knows you, dumbass.

Should you tell him he knows you, though? Should you tell him you know him? No, what? You vehemently shook your head.

“A-anyway I, um, found this-” You picked up the object and turned it around in your hands, “-on my way home and I think it’ll help you? I don’t know, it’s definitely not man-made, I suppose. I’m not exactly an expert but I thought you’d be and you just so happened to be in my neighborhood and I am, too, and this thing is glowing and-”

His spider..eye..thingies were as wide as saucers, and it was only now that you noticed you were rambling. Your cheeks flushed, and you immediately cursed at your body for betraying you.

This is worse than tripping.

“Sorry,” you looked down at your shoes, "I babble when I’m-“ Nope. Not letting him know you’re nervous. Not that he doesn’t already know. You found yourself regretting telling him all your triggers and quirks in the past, because right now, you couldn’t tell whether he could figure you out or not.

He probably could, though.

This night just kept getting worse. Pack it up already.

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders in the most confident way you could, “Here,” you outstretched your arm to him, waiting for him to grab the foreign object, but all he did was stare, and stare, and stare. You didn't really know where to look, and you didn't know if he was gazing at you or not, but before you could say anything, he snapped out of whatever he was in and took a hold of the object. You tried not to think about his masked fingers that grazed yours.

“Thanks, uh, Y/n.” He said, not as intrigued by the object as you thought he’d be. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. Or behind you. You still couldn't tell. You were too caught up in the way he said your name. It felt strangely familiar, and comforted you for a moment. It made you feel safe and wanted. Loved.

Before the memories reminded you of what he’d done.

“Sure,” you nodded, slowly backing away, “um, see you...around.”

“Yeah.”

As you turned on your heel to continue your trip home, he pipped up, “Oh, um, would- do you want me to walk you home? It’s really dark out here.”

You entertained the thought in your head for a second. "What could possibly happen if he walked you home, besides guaranteeing you safety?” Your heart spoke.

"Oh, I don’t know, you could accidentally blurt out that you know him, and then things will get even more awkward than they already are.” Your brain fought back, stubborn as ever.

Yeah, you’re definitely just going to pass up his offer.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Need a little time to myself.” You nervously chuckled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” He repeated, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he watched you walk away from him.

Like he’d done to you.

The rest of the fifteen minutes passed by faster than you anticipated, but maybe it was because you were too preoccupied considering you just confirmed your ex-best friend was a fucking superhero with fucking superpowers. As the confirmation made its way into your brain, you noticed that the signs were right beneath your nose, but you weren’t observant enough to figure it out. They started before he left you.

How did it start to begin with? Has he always had these powers?

Wait, no. Because Spider-Man wasn’t always around. And even if he really did have them for a long time, why leave you now? It must’ve been recent, you concluded.

But how? How does one go from an ordinary, lanky teenager to a robust superhero who can stop a speeding bus with his bare hands?

As one question was answered, another one took its place. The list just kept going and going, without a clear sign of it stopping.

In all honesty, you thought the videos that popped up on your YouTube recommended page of a web-slinging human were staged. In your defense, he seemed quite small to be a hero, and it wouldn’t be the first time some kid tried to fool the world with “a new superhero". You remember sending it to Peter and asking him if he thought it was real.

He never answered.

You hadn’t realized you were standing on your porch, staring at the overly large mahogany door in front of you. You sighed and took out your keys, placing them in the lock and twisting it.

You were lucky today was the beginning of the weekend. You wouldn’t be able to face him after seeing what you just saw. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do. Should you let him know that you know?

Should you let anyone know that you know?

That was the worst part about this whole thing. You had no one to turn to. No one to talk to about this, and there definitely wouldn’t be a wikiHow page on how to deal with something like this.

So, you ruled it out. One of the choices was obviously keeping the secret to yourself and not telling Peter you knew his identity. It would keep things from getting too awkward to handle and would keep him safe.

The other choice, the really horrible one, was to let everyone know. A part of you was still mad at what he’d done. You mean, he didn’t even try to apologize as he should’ve. That evil part of you, the hurt part, wanted revenge — wanted you to ruin Peter like he did you.

You knew people would believe you if you told them. You knew they’d find their ways to figure out if it’s true or not. But for some reason, you were hesitant. Yes, Peter ruined your life. Yes, Peter broke you in ways you believed were beyond mendable.

But Peter was also the boy who gave you his last Iron-Man bandaid when you scraped your elbow the first time you met. He’s the boy who pushed your bully and got punched in the face for it when you were ten. He’s the boy who saved your life the other day - the boy who saves dozens of strangers every week.

It was clear which option was better.

Keeping his secret didn’t mean you forgave him, though.

After everything, you didn’t know if you allowed yourself to forgive him. Part of you wanted you to, pleaded you to for the sake of moving on, but the more stubborn part of you remembered the pain you went through; the nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, the newfound insecurities of not being enough for anybody, the fear that others will leave you behind like he did.

Hell, you had a locked note in your notes app that contained a long speech about how you felt — about how he made you feel. The one you were to send him — but ended up deleting.

You groaned and rubbed your head, feeling an oncoming headache from the questions. You stayed in your house that weekend, trapped with a racing mind and no answers to slow it down.

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

You started noticing Peter act differently towards you when your freshman year of high school was close to ending. It started off with him rescheduling long-awaited plans and then showing up late, but you didn’t mind. He had told you he scored an internship at Stark Industries, and you swore you’d never felt prouder in your entire life.

He informed you that he could be called in at any given moment, which was his reason for leaving in the middle of your hangouts. You understood, and so, you encouraged him to do so.

But then, as time went by, you noticed a change. Instead of postponing the plans, he’d cancel them all together and wouldn’t make up for them. And sometimes, in the rare occasion in which he did postpone them, he’d stand you up, keeping you awake until you were on the brink of sleep.

He apologized multiple times for doing so, blaming it on the time the internship took for him, and you let it go, even when it became a pattern to leave you stranded.

You were okay with it.

Until it became too much.

During lunch, you could never find him, which ended up with you eating alone. During the only class you shared with him, he’d zone out while you were talking and completely ignore you. You’d normally come out of your last period ready to see him standing by your locker to begin your journey home, but he stopped being there, and you would walk home alone.

Texts and calls went unnoticed, and you felt the barrier he had placed between the two of you grow higher and higher as the time passed by.

What bothered you is that it was just with you. He acted completely normal around Ned. You often saw them chatting and laughing while you watched from afar, heart breaking into two as you wondered where you went wrong. You inspected every text message you sent and every conversation you had, often staying up late re-reading it until you reached the top. You just didn’t understand what happened.

One day, you approached him after school, running after him as he bolted through the school’s gates into the outside.

“Hey!” You called as you caught up to him and grabbed his arm, which flexed beneath your grip. You sighed and slightly loosened your grasp, “Can, um, can we talk?”

Peter visibly gulped, hesitantly nodding as his eyes bounced around your figure, never looking at you.

“Peter.” You ran a hand through your hair, carefully choosing your next words as to approach this topic cautiously, “What’s going on with you? You..you’ve been acting weird and distant. D-did do something?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Peter said, almost offendedly, quick to defend himself.

“Peter we haven’t hung out in weeks because you’ve been canceling them.” You retaliated.

“I told you, I-it’s the internship.”

You frowned, heart clenching at the tiredness that seeped into his voice, “I know.” You gave him a small smile, hoping for one in return, “I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you, you know.”

“I-“ He sharply inhaled, scratching the back of his head with his shaking left hand. “I don’t want you to be.”

Your smile instantly dropped, feeling a painful nudge in your stomach, “What?”

“I don’t..this isn’t working, Y/n. We can’t be friends anymore. I’m done.” He said. And so easily, too.

I’m done, he’d said.

Your heart stopped for a moment, taken aback by his bluntness and the harshness that came with his words, “What? Why? N-no.” You denied, "You’re just gonna leave? You can’t do that, I..What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just..it’s just better this way.” Peter visibly gulped, looking around the streets like he wasn’t standing there, breaking your fragile heart into pieces while you were trying your hardest to not fall apart right in front of him.

Dignity was still a thing. But so was your friendship.

“I can’t fix this if you won’t let me, Pete.” You pleaded, hoping he’d admit that something was wrong - that it wasn’t you that he was pushing away, that there was a reason for him doing so. You could fix this. You could.

“There’s nothing to fix. I don’t want to be friends, that’s it.” He shrugged, shuffling backward, getting ready to make a run from it.

“No,” you stopped him, grabbing his hand softly, despite the tears that already ran down your face, “There has to be a reason! Y-you can’t just leave like that! Give me a reason! WHAT DID I DO?!”

When he didn’t respond, you gave his loose hand a squeeze and wiped your tears with your sleeve, already feeling stupid for the amount of vulnerability you were displaying, especially when you weren’t getting any sort of reaction out of him besides coldness.

“Peter. Peter, please, just l-let me fix this.” You said, voice cracking, "You’re all I have left. Please don’t do this.”

You were begging. You knew you were, but you couldn’t let him leave without putting up a fight. You were a step away from begging on your knees, but you didn’t. You were able to stop yourself from doing so, but you still believed you could get through whatever this is - you were so sure of it.

But you never did.

And you swore he had ripped your heart from your chest, stepped on it, and nonchalantly walked away, leaving you to deal with the pain of the heartbreak on the sidewalk.

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel

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kopikokun · 4 years ago

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(Don't) Tell Me More༄ m.taeil

↳ Taeil's loaded, and that's a severe understatement. So, what on earth is this rich kid doing cleaning pools every Sunday? Looking for love, of course, and a little help with rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ultraviolet protection's a must; it's getting real hot in here.

pairing: (secret rich kid) pool boy!taeil x gn rich kid!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning(s): the suggestive bit is the unaddressed tension, and the one joke about bad porn taeil makes. overall, just the ~vibes~ haha

word count: 2153 words

author's note: i got... carried away. no worries, the starved taeil fans deserve a meal. idk how many years it'll take for the next one. also, please notify me if i accidentally used any gendered language. i’ve checked multiple times, but i’m human, and would sincerely appreciate if you pointed out any of my mistakes or even offered feedback ♡

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: do i wanna know (arctic monkeys) ✧ head over heels (loveleo) ✧ honey (moxie) ✧ dance with me (sir, please) ✧ doubt (hippo campus) ✧ heat waves (glass animals)

← BACK TO NAVI.

Labour isn’t Taeil’s forte. Born with a gold spoon between his lips, and six digits in his bank account at five, he’s lived a life beyond lavish.

Fridays are reserved for piano lessons and tennis, Saturdays for buttering up his father’s potential clients in country clubs, and Sundays for swimming in the five meter deep pool in his backyard. Well, at least, Sundays used to be.

Taeil’s plenty passionate about swimming–freestyle, backstroke, butterfly–but about cleaning swimming pools? Not so much.

So, why is he spending every Sunday afternoon sweaty, swathed in sunscreen, and despairing over chemical imbalances? The answer is simple, and lazing on a deck chair at this very moment: you.

You’re new–courtesy of the raise in your father’s already outrageous salary–and when Taeil first lay his eyes upon you at the park, he was enamoured. He’d actually tripped on a root in his trance, and you’d crouched beside him to ask whether he was alright. Humiliated, he’d silently hobbled after as you lead him to a bench. You’d nursed the wound he hadn’t realised he’d sustained as best you could: rinsing and dabbing it dry.

“I’ll walk you home,” he’d said. “A token of appreciation, if you will.”

You’d accepted his token. The walk wasn’t far, but it was likely because you made for such good company. Taeil would be engrossed even if you droned on about cheese for an hour, which coincidentally, is exactly what Mr. Liu’s monologue had entailed the month before. That conversation had bored him half to death however.

It felt too quick; your estate was already looming over him, auguring the end of your encounter when he’d finally recovered from his ignominy. Desperate for more, Taeil had blurted out the first thing in sight: your pool. That’s why you’d mentioned your dad needing a pool cleaner every weekend, and how, despite being clueless in the department, Taeil had wholeheartedly offered himself. You’d been elated, beaming, over the moon. How could he say no?

It had seemed appealing in the moment, but his train of thought had been superficial. Turns out, those mass-produced specially-targeted summer chick-flicks were lying! Who would’ve guessed? Pool boying was not just flaunting your washboard abs and bulging biceps as you netted a few leaves. Oh no. The first few test cleans Taeil had done with his pool… well, it became off limits for a week. And an actual expert had to be hired. Those gritty aspects aren’t the most marketable, or inherently sexy, so Taeil supposes the chick-flick deceits are partially excused.

But back to what matters: you. Your–how should he put it?–spunk, hadn’t been anticipated. Not an ounce of that pretentious reticence the local wealthy feel entitled to prevails in you. It’s refreshing. You’re adrenaline personified. Just your presence has Taeil’s heart palpitating. Since he’d been hired, every week has been more fleeting glances, yearning touches, puckish banter. And last week… well, there’s no time for that, because now you’re beckoning him over, your hand wrapped around a tube of sunscreen. Taeil prances to you, complaisant.

“Sit,” you urge, dragging a wicker stool in front of you. “You’re done for today, right?”

“Yeah, water didn’t need treatment this week. Just skimmed the surface for debris.” Taeil hesitates. He feels awkward after last week, when he’d kissed you. Yes, kissed you. You haven’t said a word about it since, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing it first. “But, it’s okay. I’m gonna go soon.”

“Aww, please, Taeil? Sit?” You pat the chair and smile, eyelashes glinting in the sun. That’s all it takes for Taeil to succumb, the rattan crackling beneath his weight. Your fingers graze his arm. “It’s a hot day, huh? A swim would be nice.”

His eyebrows crease. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

“No, no, it’s fine.” You tilt your head. “But…”

“What?”

“Do you want to go swimming with me?”

Taeil fists the material of his swim shorts, spine erect. The fabric crinkles. Whether he wants to what? “Oh, uh, well, I don’t wanna intrude. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about me swimming in their pool.”

The heat of your body seeps into his skin as your arms coil around his. “They don’t mind, and if they did, they’re not home to say so.”

This feels like the start of a trashy porn. Taeil flushes. “Oh.”

“So? What do you say?”

His adam’s apple buoys. “Sure. Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Exactly.” The sunscreen’s cap clacks open. “Here, you gotta reapply more.” Taeil extends his palm, and you squeeze some into it.

He deliberates his next move. It’s difficult to think when you’re gazing at him like that, lashes batting and lips curled into a demure smile. “You don’t mind if I”–he rubs his nape with a free hand–“uh, take off my shirt, right? I don’t wanna dirty your pool.”

“Sure! I definitely wouldn’t mind, so long as you’re okay with it.” You tuck your knees to your chest. “Why? Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” Taeil’s going to pass out, he’s betting money on it.

He doesn’t, but he does glow incandescent when he strips himself of his clammy shirt. The humid air only exacerbates his feverish blush.

Growing up, Taeil’s parents always emphasised presentability, and he’s nothing if not presentable. He’s proud of his physique, diligently maintaining it with rigorous exercise, and sure, he’s had a few self-conscious blips, but they’re transient. Taeil knows he’s attractive, yet under your keen eye, he rubs sunscreen–on his neck, chest, and abdomen–hunched forward.

“Do you need help?” You peer over his shoulder, wagging the aquamarine bottle like bait. “With your back. You know, for the spots you can’t reach?”

You’ll be the death of him. You’re going to kill him, but he honestly wouldn’t mind that. Taeil’s never had any ‘spots he can’t reach’, but, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Your fingers are ridiculously delicate, like you’re weaving gossamer across his back–sunscreen webs, if that’s a thing. Taeil’s sure someone would pay grotesquely for that. Mr. Liu would.

Neither of you speak, only the sound of skin against skin drifting alongside the scent of coconut oil and cocoa butter. At one point, your nails unintentionally trail his back, and Taeil shivers.

His body tingles with the vestige of your touch, and when he assumes you’re done, you stun him with a good, hard, satisfying squeeze to his shoulders; the ones twined rigid from graft. Taeil actually groans in relief, which had probably stunned you. Or maybe that’s what you were hoping for.

Internally, he’s broiling in mortification, but externally, his shoulders slacken, his head hangs forward, and his exhales are long and grateful. It’s embarrassing. For crying out loud, he has his own professional masseuse, yet when it’s you doing it–yeah, he needn’t elaborate further. He’s gushed about you enough.

“Feels nice, right?”

“God, yeah, it feels”–a particularly forceful squeeze elicits another groan from him–“good. Do you have any experience? You’re amazing at this.”

“Just my dad. When I was younger he used to pay me to massage his shoulders after work,” you say, fingers miraculously knowing exactly which muscle to knead at what intensity. Is this what heaven feels like? “Well, there was also the massage course I signed up for a few years ago.”

“Well”–another sigh–“it definitely paid off.”

“It better have, given how pricey it was.” Your lilt is roguish, and it sounds like you’re enjoying this as much as Taeil is.

He wants to die like this, but you’re already standing, and stretching your arms overhead before he can really soak the sensation in.

“Let’s go for that swim, huh?”

“Uh,” Taeil blinks, dazed, “yeah.”

He trails after you, facing away when you lower yourself into the water without qualms. Duh, it’s your pool. Why would you have scruples about swimming in your pool? Taeil, on the other hand, dithers, because it’s not his pool, and he can’t help but fret that your parents could walk in on you swimming with the pool boy.

“Hurry up! A little water’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he says, staring pointedly at you. He’s never felt so vehemently for someone before, and you’re so… unpredictable. It’s invigorating. It’s terrifying. Do you like him, or are you just bored?

He ventures as far as sitting on the edge of the pool’s deck, where water kisses concrete. His legs dangle, acclimating to both the temperature, and the reality that he really is about to jump into his employer’s pool. The water is cold, caressing his leg as you wade closer to stand between his knees. Your eyes sweep over him. Taeil’s stomach coils. He hopes you like what you see.

“You okay?” you ask, hand over his right knee. It’s freezing. “You look a little flushed.”

Your hand crawls further up his leg. “Yeah,” he scoffs, “I wonder why.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” you grin, upturning your palms and offering them to him. “Come on.”

Taeil should’ve thought your motives through, but how could he have denied your invitation? He’s still a guy, and well, it’s you. Regardless, he should’ve scrounged up some semblance of prudence because it was blatant what you’d needed his hands for. To pull him under. Literally.

The tug is harsh and efficient, jolting him forward into the polar depths before he can object. Taeil’s not thinking straight–the stark contrast in temperatures pummel his rationality–so he grabs the closest thing he can: you. It’s reckless of him, given the two of you are in the deep end and he could drown you. But risks evade his psyche as he loops his arms around your waist, your body pressing into his. Fortunately, he won’t be facing charges anytime soon because you do resurface, still in his arms, and strangely, you’re not pissed, you’re laughing. Laughing so hard your head’s thrown back, and your body trembles. It’s not funny–you could’ve died for God’s sake–but Taeil feels a rumble course through him; a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh. Now, he’s laughing too, though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s laughing because you’re laughing, and that’s enough of a reason for him.

“Are you okay?” you finally say, titters dissolving into a faint smile. “That was mean of me, sorry.”

Your face is inches from his, so Taeil’s voice shrinks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I grabbed onto you though. And, oh, uh”–he starts loosening his grip of you–“sorry I–”

"No, wait.” This time, it’s your arms curling around him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind this. It feels… nice.”

“Yeah… it - it does.”

The water laps at his sternum, and Taeil takes his chances by nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You let him, though neither of you know each other enough for this kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled by you. Hell, you don’t even know he’s the son of some rich socialite. To you, he’s just the pool boy. Maybe that’s why you’re playing along with him. Because there’s something exhilarating about chasing something you shouldn’t when you’ve never had to run before. Because there’s a thrill in pain when you’re unscathed. Because when you’re someone like you and Taeil, mistakes can be afforded. Anyway, what does Taeil know of pain? In fact, what does he know of you to think this? It isn’t like he knows what your intentions are with him. You’re unpredictable. That’s your whole schtick. It’s funny, because Taeil knows your pool’s pH levels better than you.

Your fingers scrape into his sopping hair.

Or maybe he likes you for you. Maybe he likes what little of you he does know. So, does he want to know more?

“What do you think of me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“You’re fun.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, then, what do you think of me?”

Taeil lifts his head from your shoulder, the strength of his embrace withering. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

You grin. “See? It’s hard to put into words, right?”

“I guess,” he smiles. You make it sound nice that you don’t know him. You make it sound like there’s just too much that you can’t express it. Maybe that’s what’s happening right now. Maybe there’s just too much Taeil likes about you to comprehend, so he thinks there’s nothing he really likes about you at all.

“You’re funny, Taeil.”

He isn’t. “Thanks.”

Taeil’s unsure how much time passes; long enough that the water’s gone tepid at least.

“Do you… like me?” he asks. Maybe if he hears you say yes, he’ll know what all the things he adores about you are.

There’s a pause.

“You’re fun, right?” you ask, thumbing a rivulet from his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I am.”

“Then, yes.” Your lips brush his. “I like you, Taeil.”

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arctic-comet · 4 years ago

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Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

#osblaineweek2021 #osblaine #the handmaid’s tale #nick x june

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transsexualhamlet · 3 years ago

Note

there's a song! I forgot

AND I'D ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO SEE UR ANALYTIC THINGY

this is a great opportunity to compliment your analytic capabilities as well! I have read some and they all happened to be top-notch!

sorry that i'm being like this

JSJSJS NO DONT APOLOGIZE I LOVE ATTENTION also I'd be very interested in that song, who's the artist?

I don't have every song done yet but here's just the one for skeleton appreciation day and then I'll rb with the shorter ones i have for the others

(this is under a cut cause boy howdy it is long and the corpse fic is Not For Everybody)

Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY (Bones)-

This is the only one I'm gonna actually do a lyric breakdown of, the others will just be short paragraphs but this one's full because Ah God Will Wood Moment. The whole song really does capture the feeling I was going for with the corpse fic. Especially the tone of this song, which feels almost as though the singer is so lightheaded and about to faint, barely standing, tottering around searching for something he cannot see.

To cut down on my silhouette, my favorite foods are smoke and hearts

My leftover frets forget stiletto-self vendettas,

While my cracking backbone lacks but backs up my false starts

All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screaming

They say that beauty's just skin deep

So naturally, please show me your bones, bones, bones

Let me see your bones

Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home

Bones, bones, bones

Hell, we're all alone

If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?

For the way he must kill Fyodor, for the way they love. He is starving himself of Fyodor by killing him. Nikolai sees that attraction in his body as something he could somehow pry out and purify even though he knows it will make him so sick and weak, as if peeling open the insides of his lover could somehow reveal the truth of why they love like this. To kill him means to be free of him, but it's really only halfway, the way he keeps him around to begin with, cause he thinks he might be able to wean himself off Fyodor after a little, just a little bit more, when well, of course he cant. He thinks this might get him answers- Why are they so self contradictory, why is it so difficult for him, why is this the only way they manage to exist is this terrifying codependent state? He searches for this so hard but he fears actually getting an answer, to the bones, so much that he kills the only one who might provide it for him.

Lumps in throats and petticoats, your baby teeth would pray for you

At the beginning of the third chapter when Nikolai is trying his hardest to talk to Fyodor, and how every bit of advice he gets back is only an echo from deep in the past. He holds the past so dearly, nothing he's doing feels real, through all the makeup he applies and the pretty dresses he puts that rotting fucking corpse in, though he's nearly to tears, and the dynamic and the dysfunctionality of how they existed together reveals itself.

A selfish book is always open

And some of the best liars only want the truth

Nikolai is the "selfish book". Nikolai weaves this extensive web of intentions and metaphors into his existence in this way that he's so sure he's hoodwinked himself and the world about his true feelings and thoughts, but especially to Fyodor and honestly to anyone who gets a look at him to an extent, it is painfully obvious the direction he is going and how viscerally clear his emotions are. Fyodor has seen this from the beginning, he always knew how doomed and contradictory that train of thought was.

And Fyodor is the "best liar". Though he is so closely guarded himself, someone who Nikolai never entirely managed to unravel even after his death, he truly only ever had the sweetest intentions with Nikolai. Yes, he's hurt him, lied to and manipulated him expertly, let him do this all to himself, but in the end he was only ever giving Nikolai what he wanted. Nikolai is a sinful ability user himself, and he knows that Nikolai is a paradox who will only ever suffer surviving. This is his mercy, and he feels that deeply. The truth of their love and the world is right there for Nikolai, left posthumously for when he finally decides to accept it.

All love starts as a scheme, so wake me up, I'm tired of sleeping

They say that beauty's just skin deep

So I feel asleep, please show me your bones, bones, bones

Let me see your bones

Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home

Bones, bones, bones

Hell, we're all alone

If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?

Nikolai has found it difficult to parse apart his own delusions and rose-colored view of Fyodor from reality, and it breaks here where he seeks this consul from Fyodor. Fyodor is so vague and far away it feels like a dream, even though all Nikolai's been doing in this whole endeavor was trying to wake up. This love of his was the "scheme" he was trying to break free of, and killing Fyodor was supposed to "wake him up" from that brainwashing. But it hasn't, it won't, that feeling doesn't go away. He wants that truth, he is begging for Fyodor to reveal it, what else must he do to receive it? But Fyodor has told him time and time again, is he really prepared to hear it?

All nightmares start as dreams, all love starts as a scheme

Give me all your LSD so I can feel my mind unweave again

This dream of Nikolai's, this ideal to reach this ascendant state of humanity where he basically ignores every scream of his own flesh and blood just for that idea of free will has become an utter nightmare all around him. The consequences are glaring and he is witnessing the world burn down and he is the one burning it. (i am he forest and i am the fire and) Everything is falling apart and he does not know how to survive without the world utterly scrambled around him. Without Fyodor, an acid trip seems necessary just to stay sane, or in his case, to keep away from that terrible clarity as much as possible and to stay living that dream without seeing the nightmare underneath…

They say that beauty's just skin deep

So Ana stands and rends the rancid meat from her bones, bones, bones

…Yet under that influence, the nightmare grows even worse, as he tears himself apart through this idea, throwing away anything he finds offensive to the delusion. I'm assuming here that Ana was meant to be a personification of anorexia, that the singer's own disorder has grown so prominent she is a whole being who acts as him, they are one and the same person. For Nikolai this certainly applies, to someone who feels at this point to be a hollowed out corpse piloted by pure delusion. And he acts out to purify his vision, to keep that idea of Fyodor and himself intact, he wounds and tricks and pushes Sigma away. In his vision Sigma has turned against him like rancid meat, yet in reality he is ripping away the very thing keeping him alive.

Let me see your bones

Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home

Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone

If I come home, baby, will you show your bones, bones, bones?

I can see my bones

Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home

Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone

If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?

My bones, your bones

Tell me you can see my bones

My bones, your bones

Tell me you can see them

This whole ending bit is that hard descent, the repetition, the spiral at the end, the way he's conceding to Fyodor, where his aversion to the truth and his seeking the truth meets. And that feeling does follow home, he's going to follow that feeling home and there is no one left to stop him. There is nothing left in that world but Nikolai and the dripping thing he's personified, at this point he's wrecked his own health so badly that he recognizes himself in the corpse more than in that old polaroid. And he's giving in with that plea: if he comes home, please tell him, would they be together again? He's begging with all his life that Fyodor somehow is watching him and everything he's become, that he might somehow embrace and understand him. In utter doom, might he at least have companionship in the grave?

#rowan's hyperfixation essays

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr | Also on AO3

Chapter 59: Statement of what comes now.

[CLICK]

[PANTING BREATHS, ECHOING SLIGHTLY, THAT SLOWLY EVEN OUT]

JON

Wh-what…what…?

Martin! Martin, where—where are you? I can’t—oh, God, I can’t see anything, I can’t—did that—

(in a different tone of voice) Martin? Are you here?

[ECHOING SILENCE]

JON

…Okay. Okay, this—this isn’t reality. This isn’t—he’d be here if I was—

Right. Okay.

(more loudly) Hello? Hello, is anyone out there?

[MORE SILENCE]

JON

W-wait…wait, is that—there’s something—okay, okay, I’m not blind, it’s just…dark. I can cope with that.

Right, okay. Think, Jon. After what you just did…if you’re not in the Institute, if you’re not in the world you’re used to, then you’re probably…somewhere else. So things are going to follow dream logic, right?

Right. Dream logic. (sigh) So I suppose I go looking for a switch.

[ODD CHITTERING, BUZZING NOISE THAT SUDDENLY STOPS]

JON

Oh, for—there has got to be away around this. No light switch, no walls, and I don’t trust the floors, so…

What am I supposed to do, say “Let there be light”?

[LOUD THUNKING NOISE, LIKE SOMEONE SWITCHING ON STAGE LIGHTS, OR AT LEAST A SPOTLIGHT]

JON

Seriously?

(frustrated sigh) Well, at least I can see now. I—wait. What in the—who’s there?

[A VOICE BEGINS SINGING SLOWLY, FAINTLY AT FIRST BUT SLOWLY GETTING LOUDER]

ANNABELLE

One elephant went out to play Upon a spider’s web one day She had such enormous fun She called for another elephant to come…

JON

You have got to be kidding me.

(resigned sigh) Right, here we go…

[ODD NOISE STARTS UP AGAIN, PUNCTUATED BY STICKY RIPPING SOUNDS, FADING IN AND OUT AS IF RESPONDING TO PRESSURE…OR FOOTSTEPS]

ANNABELLE

Hello, Jon.

JON

Annabelle Cane. Why am I not surprised?

ANNABELLE

You don’t sound pleased to see me.

JON

Let’s just say yours is not the first face I wanted to see when I woke up.

ANNABELLE

I have good news for you, then. It isn’t. You’re not awake.

JON

Oh, you can invade dreams now too, can you?

ANNABELLE

You aren’t asleep, either. And I think you already knew that.

JON

Oh, goddammit.

[A MOMENT OF SILENCE, SAVE THE FAINT ODD CHITTERING NOISE]

JON

…Wait. That noise, that’s—

And it gets louder every time we—

[CHITTERING SUDDENLY GETS LOUDER, WITH A FEW CLEAR WORDS HERE AND THERE, THEN FADES AGAIN]

JON

Are these tapes?

ANNABELLE

A fine material to spin a web with, don’t you think?

JON

It’s you.

A-all this time, all these—the recorders, the, the tapes…it’s all been you?

ANNABELLE

Well, not all me. Not all of it, anyway.

The Mother of Puppets has always collected stories. There are more reasons than one it’s called spinning a tale, you know. And spiders…it’s so hard to keep them out of places. People don’t generally call exterminators for them. Not for only one or two, and not if they don’t seem dangerous.

So yes. The Web has been lurking about the Magnus Institute, and the Archives, nearly as long as there has been an Institute. Listening. Drawing from the stories. Weaving a tapestry that tells the history of the world…and its future.

But this web? This one is mine.

JON

The tapes I recorded…

ANNABELLE

Oh, yes. All the tapes since you became the Archivist are here. Listen to this!

[A SQUEAL, THEN A CLEAR PLAY OF THE TAPE FROM MAG 000.2 - PRE-LAUNCH TRAILER]

ARCHIVIST ON TAPE

It’ll get you too. You can stare all you want, make your notes and your inquiries, but all your beholding will come to nothing. When the time arrives, and all is darkness and butchery, you’ll wish you had stopped listening and run.

[ANOTHER STICKY SOUND, LIKE SOMEONE PULLING OFF AN ADHESIVE BANDAGE]

JON

(shocked) That—that was—I only did that one as a test, to—to see if the recorders would work…

ANNABELLE

And they did. Admirably.

Go on. Try one.

JON

Look, I don’t—

ANNABELLE

You’re curious, aren’t you? You want to know.

There is no time here. Not really. No hurry. No pain. Nothing can hurt you if you indulge your curiosity a little bit. And it might not be so easy to believe once you leave.

Pick a strand. All you have to do is touch it, like so—

[ANOTHER SQUEAL, AND THEN ANOTHER RECORDING BEGINS TO PLAY FROM MAG 22 - COLONY]

MARTIN ON TAPE

—wasn’t anything to do with spiders that ended up after me. Almost wish it had been. (nervous laugh) I like spiders. Big ones, at least—

[RECORDING CUTS OFF WITH STICKY SOUND AGAIN]

ANNABELLE

—and you can hear them.

JON

He doesn’t anymore, you know.

ANNABELLE

Like spiders? Oh, believe me, I know.

I don’t think he’s liked them since he found out what happened to you. Not that I can blame him, of course. How do you feel about clowns these days? Or being alone?

JON

I—

ANNABELLE

Go on, Jon. Touch one. It doesn’t have to be…fresh.

JON

Why are some of these—

Is that…ash?

ANNABELLE

Dust, mostly.

(considers) Well, some of it might be ash. It depends on why that section of web isn’t used anymore.

JON

(tartly) I didn’t know being obscure and mysterious was in the Web’s domain.

ANNABELLE

It is if you want to manipulate somebody who’s addicted to knowledge.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to manipulate you. It’s just a habit at this point, really.

JON

…Fine.

[A COUPLE OF CAREFUL STICKY, CHITTERING FOOTSTEPS, THEN A SOFT SQUEAL BEFORE A RECORDING SHARPENS IN, FROM MAG 134 - TIME OF REVELATION]

PETER ON TAPE

What does—puzzle me though, and I mean that genuinely, is—why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin while Jon was in there. (brief pause) It’s a question, Martin, it’s—it’s not an accusation.

MARTIN ON TAPE

I don’t know. And I just – felt like it might help. He’s always recording, and I thought it—it might help him…find his way out.

PETER ON TAPE

Interesting. Were you compelled?

MARTIN ON TAPE

I don’t know. Maybe? I-I, I definitely wanted to do it.

[RECORDING FADES OUT ON THE LAST WORD]

JON

(shocked) Th-that, that was—that hasn’t happened, that didn’t happen…

ANNABELLE

This time.

JON

You knew? When, when I met you at Hill Top Road, when you…you knew I’d come back from the future.

ANNABELLE

Of course.

You and Martin, your Martin, you came back after Jonah Magnus made you end the world. The Keeper of the Light led you to a door, that led you through some halls, that led you to another door, that led you…back. To get—

JON

—a second chance.

ANNABELLE

A second chance? Hardly.

JON

And just what is that supposed to mean, exactly?

ANNABELLE

Only that.

JON

…Fine. F-fine. Be mysterious and vague. See if I care.

[ANNABELLE LAUGHS KNOWINGLY]

JON

How do you know…the tapes. You just told me you’ve been listening to the tapes. Martin made his statement about those halls—

ANNABELLE

But you didn’t.

You haven’t talked about what your journey was like to anyone, have you? Not even Martin. He knows you came through the same halls, but not what you saw. He doesn’t know that for you, there were no colors and no changes, that every hallway was the same and there was no way to tell when you were getting closer, until you reached that long tunnel.

The one with the glass walls and ceiling, like an underwater aquarium. With dark shapes you couldn’t make out pressing against the outside, trying to get your attention. With thousands of whispering voices, over one another, so hard to make out, pleading, promising, coaxing. Offering you anything you desired if you would only make it stop, blaming you for their suffering, demanding how you could just walk on by as if—

JON

Stop.

ANNABELLE

You didn’t know you were recording, either. You’ve grown so used to those recorders that you didn’t even notice them anymore. And yet, I was listening.

JON

You were—what?

Y-you—you’re from the future, too!

ANNABELLE

Mm. That’s more complicated than you think it is.

JON

How did you know what we were doing?

ANNABELLE

Because I set it in motion.

JON

…You…you what? Those halls, that—that portrait gallery, that—

ANNABELLE

Which one?

JON

Which—both of them. The ones that—that Martin had to face.

You said you listened to the tapes, you—

ANNABELLE

I did. And I was…shadowing you both, I suppose.

You never wondered how I was at Salesa’s, did you? Not why I was there, how I was there.

JON

I…to be honest, I don’t remember much about those days.

ANNABELLE

I don’t mean while you were there. I mean after. You never thought about how I could have ended up outside my own domain, let alone outside the Apocalypse altogether.

JON

I tried to think about you as little as possible.

ANNABELLE

(heh) I’d be hurt if I didn’t understand completely. I suppose if I’d been lucky enough to escape the Spinner of Webs, I’d want nothing to do with any of her children either.

But you know the rules of the Apocalypse, Jon. It never occurred to you to wonder how a Watcher could stray from their domain?

JON

Martin did. And Helen. They both—

[STATIC CRACKLES; IT’S THE ARCHIVIST’S STATIC, BUT IT SOUNDS UNUSUAL IN A WAY THAT’S DIFFICULT TO PINPOINT]

JON

The Distortion never truly left its domain. Never went far from its doors. And while the domains we saw Helen in were seemingly those of other fears, they all had at least an element of the Spiral in them.

Martin was in the unique position of being both Watcher and Watched. He had the domain he oversaw, small though it was, but he was also, perhaps, the only sufferer in a domain that belonged to me as me and not me as the Eye itself. He could walk the world unharmed because what hurt him was watching my pain and power grow in equal measure, the suffering of not knowing what I would choose in the end.

And you…

Your domain was like Daisy’s. It was the other domains, woven through them like a silken thread, a subtle tug of manipulation. It was the tapes that kept recording our journey and the tugs that led us to people we tried to help or conquer and a thousand tiny maneuverings to keep us moving ahead.

[STATIC FADES; JON GASPS SLIGHTLY]

JON

That…that shouldn’t have felt like that.

ANNABELLE

You’re a bit far from the Eye here. But to be fair, so am I.

JON

We’re in the middle of your fucking web!

ANNABELLE

But my web. Not the Web.

Any power the Mother of Puppets has here is residual, and comes through me. Any power the Ceaseless Watcher has here is residual, and comes through you. I brought the web to show you, to help you understand, but it doesn’t belong here any more than we do.

JON

You were—you were manipulating those tunnels. To…what? Slow us down?

ANNABELLE

To help. Well, you didn’t need it, but Martin…

JON

Martin is stronger than you think.

ANNABELLE

Do you know whose domain that was?

JON

The Spiral’s. Of course.

ANNABELLE

And the Eye. Together.

Together they hung that gallery of accusation, the paintings that all seemed to hold Martin responsible for their deaths. His friends, his family…strangers he never met but felt responsible for. Its purpose was to keep Martin lost—disorientated and in crippling pain and anguish. Forever.

If he had kept going down that corridor, he would never have found the door to the past. And the Keeper would never have been able to find him. Both of them had too much of the Lonely in them—just enough to keep them both isolated and searching. If they didn’t know where to meet.

JON

(whispers) My God.

They—they knew what we were trying to do. Of course they did. And they didn’t—

ANNABELLE

It’s not about foresight. Neither of them really have that. That domain was a mix of the Spiral and the Eye. It’s just what it was designed for, that’s all.

JON

That’s all? It was more than enough.

So which did you—

(with horrified realization) The paintings of me. You did that.

ANNABELLE

To remind him.

JON

Of what, for God’s sake?

ANNABELLE

In part, of what he had to prevent—what he had to stop from happening. What you’d been through and he had to make sure didn’t happen. In part, it was letting him experience your pain. He’d heard what you went through, of course, but to actually see it…in so many ways, that would make it worse, and make his determination stronger.

And, of course, part of it was just putting you back in his mind over everyone else. It was the last little…anchor tethering the two of you together, to the past. Something to keep him present so the Keeper could find him.

JON

And show him that last painting. Thankfully.

Did you know about that one?

ANNABELLE

I put that one there, too.

Surely you didn’t think the Keeper knew enough to have done it.

JON

I—n-no, no, but—

Why?

ANNABELLE

Why show it to him?

JON

Why that moment?

ANNABELLE

Because it wasn’t on tape.

I left you alone while you were in Scotland, up until the end. You two deserved a few weeks…unobserved. Alone together. To figure out what you are to one another.

Actually, I had quite a job keeping the Distortion distracted so it wouldn’t pop in and interrupt. It was something of a challenge.

The first time, anyway.

JON

The first time?

ANNABELLE

Oh, we’ve done this dance before. In its fashion.

JON

What dance?

ANNABELLE

The Apocalyptic Tango, I think Martin called it once.

[JON SIGHS IN EXASPERATION]

JON

Do you ever give a straight answer? Or tell the truth?

ANNABELLE

I’m hurt! I’ve been nothing but honest with you this whole time.

JON

(dry as the Sahara) And the other times?

ANNABELLE

Mostly you wouldn’t have believed me.

I did try a time or two. You always insisted it wasn’t possible, or that there must be some sort of catch. You only believed me once, and even then, I don’t think you believed. You simply wanted it to be true.

JON

Are you trying to get me to compel the truth out of you?

ANNABELLE

The way you did Peter Lukas? Or…which one was it? Breekon?

You don’t need to force it, you know. All you have to do is…ask nicely, and I will spin you the tale.

JON

…

Statement of Annabelle Cane, regarding the Web’s plan. Recorded direct from subject…ah…

ANNABELLE

At the end.

JON

…Statement begins.

ANNABELLE

This is the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

These are the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the blade that cut the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the hero that wielded the blade that cut the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the story that begged to be told of the hero that wielded the blade that cut the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

So few of the things that are Fear are gifted with foresight. The End, of course, knows what will come, because the End is inevitable. All things end, sooner or later. The Web cannot see the future but it can see…patterns. The threads of a story, and what they will be when they weave together.

When the Mother of Puppets first saw the crack beneath Hill Top Road, she thought she understood what it was. A hole in reality, a portal between universes. Places where fear had not touched, where it was not known. But then she saw it for what it was. A crack, not in space, but in time. A way to move between moments. And she began to plan For she saw the threads, and she knew that someday, someone would end the world. And when that happened…eventually, all would end. Even fear cannot last forever, in a world where nothing new is born. Eventually, all must end.

Her plan has been the same, for years. Generations. Choose a champion, mark them young. Put them in the path of a fear, and wait. Then, should the world end at the hands of that fear, tug that champion to cut the strings of fate and send all bound up in it through the crack…and back in time. Back in time enough that they could stop it.

And really, it should have worked.

To a point, it did work. Again, and again, and again, and again. Jonah Magnus sent you his ritual, you read it, the world came to an end. You tried to repair it. You walked to London…and there it got complicated.

The trouble is the Spinner’s plan depended, in the end, on your choice. We told you that you would have had to simultaneously blow up the Archives and stab Jonah Magnus, and then all would have been thrown back in time. In truth, that would not have worked—not if Jonah was still the Eye’s Pupil. It had to be you. You had to choose to take his place…and then have the tethers cut. Then, and only then, would you be sent back with the knowledge to alter things.

Sometimes I told you the original story, that it was a crack in reality and would send all the fears somewhere else, or scatter them across worlds. Once or twice I told you the truth. As I said, it was so hard for you to believe me, regardless of what I spun. Mostly you thought I was manipulating you, lying to you, trying to get you to doom a thousand other worlds. Occasionally you thought it would end the world faster. Only once did you believe me—in a time when I came to you in a cabin in what was once Scotland, a time when I knew you would not act if you did not know you could turn back time, a time when the man you loved turned back for his umbrella and understood what he was hearing and tried to save you and the world.

JON

No…

ANNABELLE

It never quite worked, in the end. Time and again, the strings would be cut, the world would snap back…and time and again, we would retread the same paths. Over and over. So little I could change, so little I could do differently before the Apocalypse and I tried to find a new way to get you to be in position to be dragged back.

Finally, finally, it happened. You tried to take Jonah Magnus’ place, to hasten the end and starve the fears…it would never have worked, of course, but you tried. Martin anticipated it, though, he tried to stop you before you killed Jonah, to delay you while the others lit the fuse. You were faster than he thought, though, and had already become the Pupil of the Eye. You told him to go. To save himself. But Martin would not leave you, despite the danger. Rather than watch him die for nothing, you told him to cut the tether. And he did.

It worked the way the Web intended, of course it did. But for you to remember and be able to fix it, you would have both had to be alive when you came through at the other side. Even one of you would have been enough. But when I woke again and plucked the strand of the Web, I could hear that neither of you remembered.

Neither of you had survived.

[JON MAKES A PAINED NOISE OF DISTRESS]

ANNABELLE

It was then that I realized that Mother’s plan depended too heavily on precise timing. She wanted me to try again, of course. Strangely enough, the Fears never knew it had happened, not even the Web. But she reminded me, again and again, about her plan, told me what strings to pull.

This time, though…this time I thought I’d try something a bit different.

I did what I have done every other time. I stayed with Salesa, I spoke to you both. I followed your progress through the tapes, and when you disappeared beneath the tunnels…I acted. As I promised him, I killed him, and I took his camera. I brought it to London, to the Institute…to the Panopticon. But this time, I brought it up to the belly of the beast. I took it to the office of Jonah Magnus.

The camera wasn’t strong enough to dispel the entire Apocalypse there, of course. But it created enough of a hole to break Jonah free of the Eye’s hold.

He was as pleased to see me as you might expect. Demanded to know what I was doing there. And I told him. I told him I had come to warn him.

JON

What?!

ANNABELLE

I told him that his precious Archivist was far from resigned to this new world he had brought about, that he was coming to stop it. To stop him. I said that you were bringing Martin with you and that you had a plan, and if he wanted to continue his reign, he’d best do something to stop it.

JON

Did you have any idea what that something would be?

ANNABELLE

Patterns. Of course I knew.

Jonah would never have harmed you, even if he could have; he still hoped to get you on his side. As you learned tonight. On the other hand, he would have known, or at least guessed, that the only thing stopping you from joining him was Martin. And even if he couldn’t hope to win you over by separating you…he would at least have found a way to use that bond against you.

JON

(shouting) Martin could have died because of you!

ANNABELLE

Perish the thought! My dear Jon, do you know know how many times I’ve been through this loop?

Even when I filled him with spiders, there has never been a time you could bring yourself to harm him in the slightest, let alone kill him. Faced with a choice between letting him die or getting revenge, I knew you would save him. Of course he wouldn’t have died.

[JON SPUTTERS INDIGNANTLY]

ANNABELLE

And I made sure you had somewhere to recover. I had already nudged the Keeper towards that door.

He couldn’t have done it, of course; he was too tightly bound to the Light—not the Lonely, not the fear he watched over, but the Light itself. If it fell, so would he, and he cannot leave it for long. Even if he had come back, he would have been unable to make a difference in anyone’s past. But of course he thought of the Archivist. His godson. And when you thought Martin might be taken from you, you experienced the precise fear that summoned one of his doors—the fear of being forever separated from the one you love.

Perhaps the original plan would have worked eventually. Perhaps someday you, or Martin, or both of you, would have survived long enough to awaken in the past and remember. But I think it’s better this way, don’t you? Much more…direct.

And look how much you’ve spared the others from.

JON

The others—G-Georgie, Melanie, Basira—in, in that timeline, the one Martin and I left. Did they…what happened to them?

ANNABELLE

The Keeper and I took care of that. Don’t worry.

After he saw you safely through, I introduced myself to him and told him what needed to happen. He fetched Basira and took her to the tunnels beneath the Institute, and then I came myself. I told them what Jonah had done, what you had done, and what they needed to do.

I gave them the choice. The same one I often gave you. I told them they could either…let things stay as they were, allow things to die out in time, and keep apart from it, or end it. Take out Jonah Magnus and blow up the Institute simultaneously, and send all the Fears back in time as well—the Fears, and any of us too tightly bound up in them to survive without them.

I know you won’t believe me, Jon, but I never influenced them to make the choice they did. Basira did ask me what they usually chose, and I did tell her that I had never known them to choose anything other than one option, but I didn’t tell her what it was. I knew it would be important for you to know that, whatever they chose, it was their decision and their decision alone.

JON

(heh) I can’t imagine Melanie not choosing the option that allows her to kill Elias.

[ANNABELLE LAUGHS]

ANNABELLE

Neither can I. And she didn’t choose differently.

As I understand it, Melanie made her way up alone—being blind, of course, the fearful things on those stairs could not affect her—while Basira provided a distraction and Georgie lit the gas aflame. Melanie took the camera and aimed it at Jonah Magnus to bring him down, and then while he tried to belittle her, she stabbed him, just as the building blew.

JON

And then what happened? Did they survive?

ANNABELLE

I don’t know. But they succeeded, or I wouldn’t be here.

JON

…

How many others has the Web done this to? Tried to—manipulate into a savior?

ANNABELLE

Oh, I don’t know. Hundreds?

Most of them would have failed. Many never made it beyond her. I was one of them, actually, a child tested out but ultimately found lacking, although I was the only one I think she would have trusted with this. But you…the Mother of Puppets saw the threads of your life. So many Fears noticed you as a child that you were bound to fall afoul of one of them eventually. And as soon as she realized where Jonah Magnus’ thoughts were trending, and where they would eventually lead, she knew that you would be a perfect candidate to complete the ritual in the end.

So she chose you. She lured you in. And you resisted her pull. She knew then that you would be the only one strong enough to succeed.

JON

I only survived because someone else took my place! I would have died if he hadn’t—

ANNABELLE

My dear Jon. Has anyone meant to be claimed by a power ever actually handed away a book or an artifact willingly?

Had you been meant to be the Spinner’s in the end, Mitchell Hopkins would never have been able to take that book from you, let alone read it. Mister Spider was a test, a test that you passed.

A test I never would have.

JON

…

…Was that his name? Mitchell?

ANNABELLE

It was.

It is.

And now you know everything.

[A FEW MOMENTS OF SILENCE, SAVE THE TAPES CHITTERING IN THE BACKGROUND]

JON

I—I suppose I should be grateful that we don’t remember all of…these. All these…cobwebs.

I’m damned grateful I don’t remember—

ANNABELLE

I must admit, that was a bad one.

JON

Getting through that…it was hard enough with Martin. I don’t—I don’t see how I did it alone.

Especially after—especially knowing I—

Did I know?

ANNABELLE

…

You spent far longer at Salesa’s that time than you did any other time. In the end, I had to go with you almost all the way to London.

…Yes. You knew.

Not at the time. Not when it happened. But the Eye made sure you Knew the details in the end. You ran into Basira and she asked where Martin was—

JON

—and the Beholder forced me to describe it.

ANNABELLE

You said yourself, more than once. None of this has ever been to the benefit of humanity. Or any individual human.

JON

Or whatever I—whatever we are.

ANNABELLE

What defines a human, anyway? The limitations, or the abilities?

We can do more than what an ordinary human can. But we can still do all the things that an ordinary human can, too. We think. We feel. We love, Jon.

As far as I’m concerned, that makes us human.

JON

…Who do you love, Annabelle?

ANNABELLE

I was the first to hold him. Did you know that? I was staying with Harry and his wife while I was at university, just before I took part in that study. They wanted someone to read to him before he was born, so he would learn the stories. Harry worked late, trying to make a better life for them all, and Elizabeth…well, she was blind, so she could tell stories fine, but she wanted him to hear books too. Every night, after dinner, I’d sit and read to her belly. He came early and Harry didn’t get to the hospital in time, so after Elizabeth, I was the first one to hold him.

Harry picked out his first name because he knew I hated that book. Elizabeth softened it by picking a middle name after me, but…she always called him Charlie. I think she knew, even then.

A couple years after I became part of the Web, the Desolation took Harry, probably to spite me, but…Harry was never the one I cared about. Elizabeth, at least, died as peacefully as anybody can. It may not have been pleasant, or timely, but at least it wasn’t to serve a power. Just bad luck.

…

Get him away from that grandmother of his if you can, will you?

JON

One of us will.

ANNABELLE

That’s all I ask.

JON

Well, I—I suppose, in light of all that’s happened…it’s the least I can do.

ANNABELLE

You believe me, then?

JON

It happened. It’s over.

Whether once or a hundred times…it happened the way you said at least once. And we won. That’s enough for me.

…Yes, Annabelle Cane, I believe you.

ANNABELLE

For what it’s worth, Jon, you did all the hard work on your own. You and Martin, and…the others. In your time and this. All I did was get you here.

JON

The others…

(sharp intake of breath) Oh, God. The Unknowing. Has it—have they—I-I can’t, even if we were in the Panopticon, I couldn’t See it. But you—there, there were tapes.

Are they…?

ANNABELLE

That one. I think.

JON

You think?

ANNABELLE

It added itself to the web just before you got here. It’s either theirs or yours.

[BRIEF PAUSE, THEN THE SQUEAL OF TAPE BEFORE A RECORDING PICKS UP - FAINT CIRCUS MUSIC, THUMPS AND TAPS THAT MIGHT BE SOME KIND OF FOOTSTEP, FLOORBOARDS CREAKING, SHALLOW BREATHING, FABRIC RUSTLES]

PRESENT ARCHIVIST ON TAPE

I love you.

PRESENT MARTIN ON TAPE

I love you.

TIM ON TAPE

I love you.

Tell me when.

[DEEP BREATH]

PRESENT ARCHIVIST ON TAPE

Three…two…one…

[MORE FABRIC RUSTLES, DETONATOR CLICKS, EXPLOSION BEGINS BEFORE ABRUPTLY CUTTING OFF]

JON

Oh, God.

ANNABELLE

And to think I thought you had a terrible sense of timing.

JON

At least they said something before—

O-oh, God, Tim. Tim—you know as well as I do that in my time, he—and I—were they all in the middle of that?

ANNABELLE

More or less.

They didn’t walk into the Unknowing, at least. Martin listened to what you told him and wouldn’t let them open any doors. But it had to be blown up from the inside to be sure of getting all the charges. Your counterpart and Martin’s wouldn’t leave Tim behind, however much he tried to make them.

JON

What happened after that?

ANNABELLE

I don’t know if there is an after that yet.

JON

And we’re back to the cryptic bullshit.

ANNABELLE

On the contrary. I said exactly what I meant.

We aren’t exactly anywhere right now, or any when. This…place…I wouldn’t call it a domain, but it exists outside of both time and space. The rules are different here. Time, if it passes at all, passes differently.

They might have just pressed the detonator. They might have pressed it hours ago, or days ago.

JON

(dismayed) Days?

ANNABELLE

All I can say is that wherever, whenever they are, they are out of reach of my tapes. And your sight.

Fortunately…I know someone who can give us those answers, even from here. Maybe especially from here.

JON

Who else is here, for God’s sake?

[ANNABELLE SINGS THE NEXT LINE IN THE SAME SLOW, MEASURED VOICE AS BEFORE]

ANNABELLE

Two elephants went out to play Upon a spider’s web one day They had such enormous fun They called for another elephant to come…

[STICKY FOOTSTEPS APPROACH OVER THE TAPE WEB]

OLIVER

Hello, Jon. It is all right if I call you Jon?

JON

…Oliver? Oliver Banks?

OLIVER

In the…well. In the manifestation, I suppose. I don’t know if any of us is here in the flesh.

JON

(disbelieving laugh) You’re…not quite what I expected.

OLIVER

Is that an invitation for me to comment about how Death so rarely is what we expect, or a manifestation of you wondering why Martin would possibly be jealous of someone like me?

ANNABELLE

If you knew either of them a little better, you’d know Martin’s reasons for being jealous are almost entirely in his head.

Also, he’s never met you.

OLIVER

Mm, true. We always seemed to miss one another.

JON

You—hold on. You’re from the future as well?

OLIVER

Like you and Annabelle. Well, more like Annabelle, I suppose. You had to be the Pupil of the Eye before you were tangled enough to get dragged back with the Fears. Me? Without Terminus, I’m just…dead. And we’ve already established that that’s not where I want to be.

JON

…Did you know? When you came to the hospital?

OLIVER

That we’d done this before? Of course. I long ago stopped being surprised at what you would choose.

JON

Then for God’s sake, why—

OLIVER

Because you had to choose, Jon. It was always your choice.

Think of it as a crossroads. You stood at a fork in the road, where one path would take you back to life and the other would take you on to, well, whatever came next. The trouble was that the signposts were covered.

You could have chosen without knowing which path was which, but that’s not your way. Not when you know enough to know that one was…mm, wrong, shall we say? One would have led you where you wanted to be, one where you didn’t.

JON

I didn’t want to die.

OLIVER

There’s a difference between not wanting to die and having something to live for.

JON

(deep breath) Right, well, I definitely have something to live for, so I’ll be going now.

Uh, how do I get out of here?

OLIVER

Ordinarily? You don’t.

JON

What?!

OLIVER

This is Terminus’s realm. Well, sort of. A little pocket on the outside edge of it.

JON

Another crossroads.

OLIVER

Mm, not so much. More that you’re standing in the middle of the path.

JON

So which way is back?

OLIVER

Life is a journey traveled in one direction only.

JON

(tartly) Yes, well, so is time, but here we all are.

I’ve already chosen to live, Oliver. (with slight malice) Can I call you Oliver?

OLIVER

(not rising to the bait) This isn’t a place where you get to choose.

JON

…So you’re saying that’s it.

After all that, after everything I—everything we did…this is the end. There’s nowhere else for me to go.

ANNABELLE

How many times have you walked out of another entity’s domain? Not counting the Apocalypse. We’ve already talked about how that doesn’t count.

JON

I…twice. The Buried and the Lonely.

Three, I suppose, if that crossroads counts.

OLIVER

That was a metaphor. You were close to Death, but not its realm. If that makes sense.

JON

Not really.

ANNABELLE

The Buried and the Lonely, then.

What brought you out?

JON

From the Buried, it was the—the tapes…it was Martin putting those tapes on top of the coffin. W-weaving me a rope…or a ladder.

The Lonely was simple enough to leave. The way out was together.

ANNABELLE

With Martin.

JON

…Yes.

ANNABELLE

Exactly.

Not all strands of a spider’s web are to capture or to control, you know. Sometimes, they are simply…to anchor.

JON

…

…That’s why you offered to bind me to Martin. It wasn’t about—it wasn’t for strength or power at all.

ANNABELLE

Not to defeat Jonah Magnus, no. There’s more than one kind of strength, more than one kind of power. I did tell you that you would need it to survive what was coming.

JON

It brought Martin back when Peter Lukas visited the Archives and he almost got swallowed by the Lonely again. It—it grounded me, kept me from losing control while I was taking down Jonah.

And now…

ANNABELLE

It can guide you home.

[OLIVER LAUGHS]

OLIVER

You know, people always talk about some legendary “red string of fate”, but I’ve never actually seen a real one before.

Let alone one woven from cassette tape.

JON

You knew I had that tether from the beginning.

OLIVER

Truthfully, I didn’t think it would work. Plenty of people have things they think are tying them to life, but they aren’t strong enough to resist the pull. Most threads snap.

JON

Not this one.

I made Martin a promise. And I never break my word.

OLIVER

A good thing, when your tether is almost literally made out of your words.

JON

Ha, ha.

…Wait. B-before I go…the Unknowing. Are they—she said you would know.

OLIVER

It’s over. It worked. They brought the house down.

A lot of tormented souls set free, all at once. Quite the rush, really.

JON

The three of them—my counterpart and Martin’s and Tim. What happened to them?

[OLIVER SIGHS]

OLIVER

Two of them will be fine. Some cuts and bruises, but they’ll be up and about sooner rather than later. They might already be up and about. Time’s difficult to discern here.

The other…I suspect I’m going to need to pay a visit at some point. Clean off those signposts.

JON

Don’t wait six months.

OLIVER

I shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks behind you.

JON

…That’s less comforting than you think it is.

OLIVER

Then it must be terrifying, because I was definitely going for ominous.

[JON SIGHS…AND LAUGHS RELUCTANTLY; ANNABELLE AND OLIVER LAUGH TOO]

JON

I suppose we’ll meet again, Annabelle.

ANNABELLE

…No. No, I don’t think we will.

JON

Tired of me already?

ANNABELLE

I was watching them for you. Not just through the tapes. I was lurking in a corner of that room.

I don’t know that I made it out.

OLIVER

(gently) You didn’t, I’m afraid.

Your choices are more limited. Stay here with your web…or see what comes next.

[A SHORT PAUSE]

JON

We’ll keep the recorders going.

In case you’re still listening.

ANNABELLE

…Tell Charlie his aunt loves him very much.

JON

I will.

Oliver…don’t take this the wrong way, but if I ever see you again, it will be too soon.

OLIVER

Death always comes too soon.

JON

That was definitely not meant for that aspect of you.

OLIVER

Fair.

ANNABELLE

Have a good life, Jon.

You and Martin deserve it.

JON

If I may borrow from another…may you find your rest where no shadows are cast, and no eyes may see you slumber.

ANNABELLE

(audibly smiling) From you, Jon, that is a true blessing.

[DEEP BREATH]

JON

Right. Hold on, Martin.

I’m coming home.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #unreality tw #darkness tw #blindness tw (kinda)#manipulation tw #violence tw #explosions tw #death tw #implied mental torture tw #just...this chapter might be a Lot #the formatting's better on AO3 #holy shit I can't believe I'm almost finished

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buckysforeverprincess · 5 years ago

Text

Let The Games Begin Ch. 3

Dark!Viking James Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers

Words: 1911

Warnings: James still being an asshole.

A/N: Welcome back! I hope you’re all enjoying this fic as I have many plans for it. The entire thing is written in my head I just need to get it down and I promise to post it once a chapter is complete. In this chapter reader starts to put some things together. Let’s see just how this plays out. Enter Steve Rogers. Enjoy!

You sat on the bed staring out into the space that had become your home, looking at something and nothing all at the same time. You hated this room. It was the main room of James’ home and was where normal people ate and entertained guests but not this heathen. Civility had eluded him and had no hope of finding its way back to home to its master.

When you arrived, James had moved his bed from the other room and set up camp in here. You watched as he pieced everything together and demanded you get used to it. This bed in this room was to be your chamber of torture and he your proud captor. It doesn’t matter how many days you spend trapped in this twisted version of hell, you’ll never get used to this life or the scum enslaving you. He could fall into a pit of acid for all you cared.

“I’m leaving,” James says as he comes from the other room and heads over to the table where his knives are kept, breaking you from your thoughts. A glance in his direction sees him in dressed in some clothing you haven’t seen that appears to be a lot nicer than usual. Hopefully he’s going to ride himself off a cliff and chose to dress up for the occasion to look decent for the people sent to retrieve the mess at the bottom. A woman can always dream, can’t she?

“I’m leaving Steven to keep an eye on you today and Wanda will bring your lunch,” James says, his body half turned, and you can see his profile.

“Your whore?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you honestly didn’t care.

James side eyes you and you can see his lips turned up in a grin. “Ahhh… so you’ve heard the talk, huh?” He looks to you, the grin now a full-on smile. “It’s a wonder you’ve heard anything. To my knowledge, you’ve never once left the house.”

You scoff and shrug. “We all have our secrets, don’t we?”

James clicks his tongue and nods. “That we do.” He turns his attention back to his task at hand.

Watching him, you see him place several of his knives around his body, a few of them concealed where they can’t be seen to the naked eye. The last one he grabs is the one you know well, the one you used and failed to take his life with. His most favorite knife with the long blade and thick handle.

James pulls it from his sheath and assess the blade, putting it up to his eye, carefully inspecting it for god knows what. Once he’s determined it’s worth, he inserts it back into its holder and makes his way over to where your sitting on the bed, holding the knife out to you.

“Here. This is for you.”

You look up at him, your eyes blinking in confusion. “What is this?”

“A peace offering, for now.” He urges you to take the knife from his hand.

“I don’t understand.”

James rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m leaving for the day and in these unusual circumstances I figured you’d feel a little more secure in my absence if I left you something that could offer you protection.”

Your brows furrowed, still confused by his actions. “But isn’t that why Steven is staying? To protect me?”

“Yes…,” James nods, “but he can’t be here every second.”

“Why not?” You question, not buying his reasoning. “Natasha is here every second of every moment you’re gone. Why should Steven be any different?”

“Because Steven has a village to care for in my leave and they trust him. He’ll come check on you periodically, but he cannot stay the entire time I’m gone.”

This was so unlike James to offer this to you, so you know there’s more to this than he’s letting on. With a huff, you reach out and snatch the offered knife from his hand and set it in your lap. “Be careful, James. I’m not as daft as you think. This isn’t you showing you care because you and I both know you don’t. There’s something at play here… let’s hope for your sake the game ends and the pawns move as you’ve hoped.”

James’ eyes go wide and you’re the one to smirk, the ass giving something away you believe he never intended. He recovers quickly and shakes his head. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I can assure you my intent is selfish and not about you but the child you’re carrying.”

“Smart. Way to backtrack.” You grin and James turns to walk towards the door.

“Don’t wait up for me.”

“I’m missing you already.” The sarcasm is heavy on your tongue as you watch him leave, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes move to your lap and stare at the knife that’s taken up residence there. This is his most prized possession and something he wouldn’t just willingly leave but he did, and he changed things up. Did he think you were totally naïve? You’ve been here for three months, you’ve learned how to play this dangerous game. So, why? What’s the game and how will you come out the victor? Hmmm… what are you up to, James?

“Princess.”

You look up and see a tall blond muscles man standing in the doorway. Steven. Apparently, you were lost in thought and had no idea how much time had passed but here he was. The man that’s size rivaled James, but his face was softer, more trusting. If he wasn’t James’ right hand man, you’d find yourself in a position to confide in him but that wouldn’t or couldn’t be. You’d suffer in silence and keep the man at arm’s length. Nothing to be gained from becoming friends with this brute.

“Steven. I’m still here, if that’s why you came.” Your tone is dry and without any sign of emotion.

Steven chuckles and smiles, shutting the door and making his way into the room to stand in front of the bed. “I trust all is well?”

“Why are you here?” You ask, not up for small talk or formalities.

“To make sure you have everything you need, your highness.” Steven lowers his head, bowing to you like so many had before.

It’s the first time since you’d been forced into this life that anyone has addressed you in this way and you're totally taken aback. His actions are very suspicious but there’s nothing that screams do not trust him. Hmmm… what piece of the game are you, Steven? A pawn or a knight? And how can I get you to show your weakness?

“Drop the act and tell me why you’re here.” You grip the knife and unsheathe it, pointing the sharp blade in his direction, the man still bowing before you.

The blond stands up and shakes his head. “Really? Is that any way to treat an ally?” Steven uses his hand to brush the blade out of his way and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not James.”

“Maybe not, but you're his best friend and I’d be a fool to trust you.” You raise the knife back up, holding it steady in his face.

Steven’s eyes lock onto yours, and for the first time you’ve noticed just how beautiful the blue is staring back at you. “That blade isn’t meant for me, your highness. It really is to protect yourself.”

At his words, you lower the blade and place it in your lap, still out of its sheath. “Why do I need protection?”

Steven sighs and looks down, taking the knife and running his thumb across the blade. “Good… he sharpened it.” He puts the blade back in the holder and lays it down on the bed. “Because, your highness… you never know when someone might want to use James’ absence as an opportunity.”

You furrowed your brows. “An opportunity for what?”

Steven grins and leans in close, his lips brushing up against your ear. “An opportunity to bleed you dry,” he whispers, making you gasp in shock.

“Don’t worry…,” Steven sits back with a grin on his face, “I’ll keep you as safe as I can but in the worst case the knife should be used to hold anyone off until I can come around.”

You sit in silence as you study his words, the man still sitting across from you, watching your every move, which gratefully is nothing at this point. The knife is meant to protect until Steven comes and now it all makes sense. You were the pawn and Steven the knight. Guess it’s time to let the games begin.

“Thank you, Steven.” You reach out and place a soft hand on his leg. “I’ll make sure to keep the knife close and I promise to scream loudly should any harm come my way.” You give him a genuine smile, something you haven’t given anyone since you came to this wretched hell.

Steven glances down at the hand resting on his leg and then back up at you, his mouth turned up in a soft smile. “That’s all I can ask. Your safety is my priority.”

“Again, thank you. Now, you should go…,” you remove your hand but never break eye contact, staring into those ocean blues, “...James is cruel and unforgiving and I’m not sure I could survive anymore of his wrath if he found out you were in here instead of out there preventing any tragedies.” You lay it on thick, hoping to gain a soft spot within the tall Viking.

The blond nods in agreement and stands up from your bed. “As you wish, your highness.” And once again, bows and lowers his head for the second time since he arrived. “I’ll see you soon,” Steven says as he stands straight, the full extent of his muscular body on display.

“Bye, Steven.” You smile bashfully at him.

“Enjoy your day, Princess.” Steven finally makes his way to the door after several moments of stalling, opens it and exits, the large door closing behind him.

You stare at the door waiting for him to come back but he never does. Good. Steven’s presence frazzled you a bit towards the end of his visit but for the most part you were able to understand enough of what treachery lies ahead. Whatever their plan it involved you, Steven and James’ knife.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, you thought, looking down at the knife at your side, the same one you tried to impale into the chest of the beast you share a bed with. The same one you’re positive he used when he slit your father’s throat with a laugh. It was now willingly given to you without so much as a fight or a peep of dissatisfaction, so maybe you should do what’s intended and protect yourself at all costs.

Whoever is coming won’t find the same woman that was dragged here unwillingly, kicking and screaming along the way. No. They will be met with a much-changed Princess. One who’s new mission includes protecting the life growing inside you. Come hell or high water this child would not grow up with James’ influence. You’ll burn this village down to the ground before you let that monster shape and mold the child his seed fertilized.

Viking Tags:

@ellallheart @sebastianstansqueen

Forever Tags:

@jamesbarnesappreciationclub @kruscht @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @geeksareunique @peaceinourtime82 @leosandbuckysgirl @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @awkwardfangirl2014 @collette04 @notyourtypicalrose @onebatch--twobatch @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics @chuuulip @unlikelygalaxygiver @lancetuckershairgel @babypink224221 @mybabe-buckybarnes @shield-agent78 @the-real-kellymonster @caplanreads

#dark james barnes #dark!viking bucky #Viking james barnes #viking au #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader

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plounce · 5 years ago

Text

my Concepts for aj2

so these are my thoughts and ideas about the game that would follow aa4 in a timeline where we got a coherent apollo trilogy rather than aa5 and aa6. as such, i am discarding aa5 and aa6′s apollo backstories because i find them incoherent as an arc and only slapped onto him for the plots of the games. etc etc. theorizing on squandered potential is me-bait. trucy and klavier get to have THEIR place in the narrative as important characters!! (sorry athena. you will get your own trilogy with good writing and a better design in this timeline too)

this is very stream of consciousness and while i think it’s fairly coherent it is also not chronologically organized as i build on ideas. i am genuinely sorry if the read more doesn’t work on mobile because this thing is stupid long.

containing:

apollo, trucy, and klavier being a firm Trio and getting character development and growing closer :)

themes about found family, letting yourself love/be loved, performance and persona, love giving you strength to do good, you being the one to determine your identity

exploration of the trio’s backstories and the development of their skills

prosecutor franziska chipping away at the corruption within the legal system

klavier being the assistant for a case

kristoph continuing to be a corrupt bastard

buildup to the sibling reveal & canon klapollo in the conclusion of the trilogy

- apollo is the main character

- phoenix is absent for like the entire game besides maybe a couple tiny flashbacks, later revealed to be working with edgeworth on anti-corruption stuff (which is also tied to kristoph & kristoph’s ties within the legal system, “old boys club” etc)

- trucy is assistant for first half of the game

- klavier is assistant for second half of the game. his hair is in a little bun or ponytail :) no drill hair for THIS individual person

- klavier is prosecutor for trucy assistant cases. in the 3rd case klavier was supposed to prosecute against apollo but things keep getting fishier and fishier and things keep reminding them of kristoph. klavier is ordered off the case from on high. mysterious replacement. klavier is too invested in seeing truth & justice come to light so he helps apollo

- franziska prosecutes cases 3 & 4. she has short hair and it’s super sexy and hot.

- kristoph set things up so that klavier is implicated in things. dig into how klavier and apollo feel unable to escape kristoph’s influence - “he’s too foundational”

- 4th case klavier is on trial. oh maybe 3 isn’t about kristoph but it’s just background stuff about the rampup to the 4th case - klavier is put on probation while things are investigated but he doesn’t know WHY, but he’s still committed to his ideals

- trucy is pursuing her magic career, klavier still loves music - has been releasing solo stuff maybe, just some EPs for free/charity, but isn’t touring. focusing on law

- case 4 has a family friend (NOT A WOMAN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD... A MALE DAMSEL PLEASE) get accidentally poisoned through something klavier gave them. that’s the trial itself. kristoph was the source. klavier is arrested. it’s more complicated that this but it gets to this point. day 2 of the trial is when klavier is implicated and he gets yanked into cuffs from the defense bench

- one of case 4′s pillars is a memory from the gavin brothers’ childhood. discuss how kristoph was as a child. klavier has been realizing how... odd certain things were, and trying to pass it off as like “haha yeah kristoph would dissect dead birds and convince our parents that every mess was my fault. i guess that makes sense considering how he ended up haha? I Don’t Feel Strongly About This I Just Think It’s Funny :)”

- apollo’s perceive abilities expanding to be able to perceive general emotional states as well - along with learning to practice more empathy, being considerate. No Klavier And Trucy, You Are Not Fine. this is kind of like athena’s thing actually huh

- trucy, meanwhile, is learning to be more like. emotionally... independent? no. emotionally... self-caring. both independent in that she’s a young adult and also caring in that she is trying not to force herself to take care of everyone all the time and show her less pretty emotions to apollo. take care of herself

- case 1 has to do with something happening at trucy’s show/her career/her school etc. she’s still a real person etc. trucy’s friends mostly being adults, her feeling isolated at school. nah wait this is a slightly absurd world she’s not overly weird for her classmates necessarily. yeah ok it’s about magic

- case 2 has to do with klavier being a rockstar, the pressure of celebrity and public fascination with his persona. stalker fans, music industry, talk shows, etc. someone trying to convince him to come back to music. klavier has to arrest someone he’s fond of again. no big stadium performance in this game

- the trio all dealing with themes of hiding and trying not to feel “bad” emotions: apollo going “im fine” and suppressing his problems & just trying to do his job so he can cope with how overwhelmed & stressed he feels constantly etc etc + trucy hiding the secrets of her magic which is sort of representative of her hiding a lot of her sad/”ugly” feelings because she thinks she needs to because she thinks phoenix depends on her being cheerful all the time + klavier dealing with having a public persona and the pressures of being Himself, trying to be the person others see him as/want him to be, who is klavier when he is not performing? who are all of them when they are not performing? who are they performing for?

- yes i am a “woman” yes i am obsessed with the idea of performance

- trio all dealing with/feeling lonely wrt family: apollo learning more about jove (possibly during the music industry case - someone knew his dad, who refused a big contract), who he was & one of the cases involving someone from his past in the foster system - maybe it’s even clay! - but in general feeling very disconnected from “family” in general esp compared to trucy&klavier’s family troubles being so immediate and raw for them + trucy feeling lonely and kind of abandoned as phoenix is increasingly gone in this game and seeming very distant from her, similar to how zak abandoned her, and also the pains of growing up + klavier’s parents either are dead or are somewhat estranged after he got kristoph imprisoned, klavier feeling very lonely in general after his pursuit of truth&justice has snipped many of his connections from him

- yes i am gay yes i am obsessed with found family

- franziska having a moment of “i get how it is and it sucks” with klavier about Complicated Feelings About Family

- she eventually does realize during case 4 that klavier is guilty but has to hide it in order to push one of kristoph’s allies out into the open. sorry kid uh... what do you like. i will buy you. an ice cream? or something. look do you want a gift card i’ll buy you a gift card

- kristoph’s lawyer shows up near the start of the game to give things to apollo which he is deeply suspicious of but ema tests them and they come up clean. guy shows up here and there throughout the game. maybe tries to bribe apollo or something. apollo gets invited to a Fancy Lunch because he’s the one that bested kristoph gavin and that shows Promise. in a sense. or something. apollo being manipulated by people who refused to hire him when he got kristoph convicted etc

- themes about being young in a world full of secrets and webs of alliance that you feel barred from because you have ideals and won’t compromise them and also either come from nothing or burned all your bridges. just aa protag things <3

- oh maybe there’s a new judge who is also In On Nefarious Plots

- catching these people doesn’t fix everything but - it’s something. they got a couple shitheads

- trucy continues developing her gramarye abilities. more emotional depth. more exploration on complex feelings wrt phoenix and her childhood and her adolescence and how she’s fairly well-adjusted as one can be but also... the shit still hits yk... she’s like 16 years old so she’s maturing

- ema is there. she and apollo get along a bit better. asks after phoenix. provides evidence against klavier, and then evidence for.

- followup on apollo-edgeworth klavier-phoenix parallels - who is the one bringing them further into the light, chaser/chased, the one who wants more/the one who pushes away, etc etc

- follow through on implied gramarye mafia connections

- klavier isn’t super in the first case besides the courtroom and maybe one appearance, but he is like. worried about trucy if there is cause to be worried about her. set up their dynamic beyond trucy just liking the gavinners

- trucy&apollo and klavier&kristoph compares&contrast

- franziska is(/appears to be) very doubting/dismissive of apollo’s belief in klavier bc it’s like... are you pursuing the truth? or trying to shield your friend?

- apollo does end up almost very close believing klavier was in kahoots with kristoph/kristoph’s friends because it just looks. really bad. like it genuinely looks VERY BAD. and he’s like “i have to find truth like prosecutor von karma said”. yknow how with a lot of aa cases it starts out “oh no it looks open and shut” and then is like “NO WAY THEY COULD HAVE DONE IT... BUT HUH”. this one is reverse. and then straightens back out again. dig the hole then climb back out

- yeah the theme is like. “are you trying to find truth or do you want to protect your loved ones. what is your duty as a person, your job or your loved ones.” this carries through on klavier’s thread from aa4 where he has to work against his loved ones. meanwhile apollo, who is a bit more cool-tempered irritable grump, is the one going “oh god, am i biased towards my friends?” so it sort of flips. what kind of stories will you weave to clear your friends of blame? kristoph’s boys club.

- echo back to “evidence is everything” - this line of thinking (in a certain way) is what saves klavier when kristoph is trying to punish him for his betrayal

- since phoenix is away, the gramarye siblings aren’t revealed yet. but more info is dropped to compensate - stuff about jove and apollo’s childhood in the foster system and how that’s shaped him into someone who keeps people at arm’s length to keep himself safe; trucy and apollo getting closer despite that, trucy busting down those barriers because she needs his support and he’s like “oh my god i have to support her.” older sibling stuff.

- maybe the trucy case involves like. a mafia guy trying to collect on debts or smth and tries to ruin trucy, and threatens apollo. there’s a hint that is very obvious to the audience but is like “wow apollo he thought you were my brother!” like the mafia guy calls apollo “the other child” and apollo is like “hey, i’m 24!” which is humorous but also the audience is like Oh My God I Know What That Means

- there isn’t a deliberate withholding of information from phoenix - he literally is not there to withhold it. but there is still tension and stakes and weight to their relation - apollo keenly feeling his absence of family and trucy feeling sort of abandoned by phoenix

- phoenix is like “ok trucy you’re almost an adult so i’m trusting you to stay safe and responsible while i’m away. apollo will technically be in charge but i’m still trusting you” and privately to apollo is like “If Anything Bad Happens To Her. Your Head Is On The Line.” so it is just them making it on their own

- klavier drops the line “watching you two is like what kristoph and i should have had” and then there’s a couple “...” dialogue boxes as the audience is like I KNOW WHAT HE MEANS and then apollo is like “... are you for real comparing me to kristoph.” haha funny but also THERE IT IS

- very carefully walked tightrope. acknowledged enough that there is still tension/suspense around it but not too much as to be slightly infuriating

- before the last case trucy gets mad at apollo for something - trucy is allowed by the narrative to be angry for real. stand up for herself. trucy and apollo come back together to defend klavier. they see each other in the detention center when theyre still mad at each other - trucy was visiting klavier (he wasn’t there for the fight). “you made fraulein trucy very mad, hm?” then during the trial trucy busts in dramatically with important help when things look very bad for klavier

- aj3 has emotional revelations/high points of the trio - siblings reveal and klapollo canon. aj2 is a lot of building of these connections and building suspense and tension. more more more of these relationships before they emerge fully formed in aj3

- the last trial echoes the “im the only one who can save prosecutor gavin” or whatever gay thing apollo says in the last trial of aa4 because he literally is. just a lot of hinting and them getting along. case 3 is very important because that’s when it’s just them and it’s “oh! we work well together! we’re complementary!”

- implement the dual investigation mechanic from dgs so it does feel collaborative

- just build on the fact that klavier is the first friendly, helpful, cooperative prosecutor. he wants to help you. make that a very positive, very important feeling while still making it extremely enjoyable

- resolves in “you can have truth AND the ones you love”. or smth like that but more nuanced. it’s very inspirational and sentimental etc

- you get to meet vongole and it’s a Pet The Dog moment for klavier. look! how nice he is. he truly loves this insanely sweet and lovable dog. trucy is enamored with vongole as well. “it’s strange that she was kristoph’s dog, hm? with how affectionate she is.” “well, i guess being owned by kristoph doesn’t means she’s an equally bad dog ... ER i mean--” “hm, you always struck me as a cat person, herr forehead?” “uh - well yeah, you’re right. but... that doesn’t mean i don’t think vongole is a pretty great dog.” IMPLICATIONS. SUBTEXT. TASTE IT IN THE AIR

- oh there’s definitely a moment in case 2 when you get to examine klavier’s apartment and you can look at a couple albums and for a gavinners album apollo is like “ugh” but then you get one of his solo eps and apollo is like “trucy made me listen to this. it... was okay. not as bad as the gavinners stuff. sounds more honest. or something like that.”

- oh also when you examine the guitar klavier offers to teach apollo some basics. hee hee (BUT ALSO... JOVE!!)

- maybe for case 2 The Industry Suits want klavier to stop releasing his eps for free/total charity so it’s a whole coordinated scheme. his manager, a devoted fan who hates to see him going his own way and being happier for it, etc. “we want you to be the person you were. the one we could possess.” be more like gavinners klavier instead of honest relaxed current klavier. be who we want you to be so we can make you dance like a puppet. music industry kristoph parallels.

- “i’m sick and tired of being a plaything for other people!” >:( face moments

- a fan broke into his house and defaced the solo stuff etc. >:( face.

- who determines who “you” are? what role do your loved ones have in your life? those who truly love you can save you and make you better. loving and being loved sincerely and genuinely and truly have positive effects on your life. letting people love you and letting yourself love them is good.

- ugh but this kind of contrasts with the “the old boys club is controlling and using/shaping the institution of law to amass wealth and power for themselves while throwing others under the bus.” well actually wait

- lunch with apollo = they don’t actually care about each other, would throw each other under the bus for their own benefit

- contrast between sacrificing the weak to protect the strong and protecting the weak to depower the evil strong

- love and bonds can motivate/enable you to chip away at the system and can help you make a difference. les mis etc etc etc

- the old boys club are all putting up fronts of appearing strong and tough and above everything and in control. real love and friendship let you show vulnerability and weakness and help you & your bond come out stronger for it. (tumblr voice) the mortifying ordeal

- additional stakes of “if you are found aiding this criminal and hiding evidence etc etc we will disbar you” or smth. stakes for sticking with klavier, for winning the trial, for demonstrating care. franziska is kind of like “... apologies. but you had nothing to worry about so don’t worry about it.”

- klavier and apollo damned by association with kristoph, especially as a kristoph scheme was just found to happen, and it depended on kristoph being in jail, so maybe they were the ones to enable that part of the plan... it’s a long con...

- it feels like there should be another legal reform here to make aa4′s jury implementation but maybe this one is more about how reform is often very gradual and like chipping away at a mountain

- in aj3 the death penalty gets reformed. (tension there about kristoph being on death row and this game piles on a lot more GOD KRISTOPH SUCKS but then it’s like. no. we have to fight for True Justice and the legal system is extremely imperfect (how many of our clients narrowly avoided a wrongful guilty verdict!) so we have to prioritize protection over punishment)

- “it’s like chopping heads off the hydra. it feels like we’ll never actually change anything.” “yes, but hercules didn’t defeat it by himself. he had a partner that burned the stumps after he sliced off the heads. ... one person to hold the sword, one person to hold the torch.” NARUMITSU KLAPOLLO PARALLELS. HI

- okay i had some really good discussions on twitter w @henriettamarias about this and here’s a couple more things

- trucy’s case involves her inheriting the gramarye secrets and the legacy. the weight of tradition and the burden of what has happened in her family. trucy’s estranged grandmother shows up - it’s kind of similar to the feys kind of. the grandmother is a complex maternal figure who doesn’t know trucy and trucy doesn’t know her and it’s sort of the idea of... even if your “new” family is related by blood, you still have to choose them. and trucy’s like !!! because she’s openhearted but the grandmother disappears - doesn’t choose trucy. it’s not a Villainous Action it’s just... it’s complicated. maybe it’s to protect trucy or something. it wasn’t done to hurt trucy is what i’m getting at, but it still hurts

- one of the music industry people in klavier’s case is a gavin uncle/aunt/cousin who is pressuring him to go back to being an Extremely Profitable Rockstar. and klavier has to deal with more disappointment from a family that values extreme success and is sort of cold (this contrasts with the warmth of the WAA found family). they liked klavier when he was very successful and famous on two fronts but now he’s opened the door and invited in shame on their family’s name so everyone’s kind of mad at him. trucy and apollo get to be really defensive of him

- apollo’s case is one i’m still thinking on what it’ll be about because i’m deeply uninterested in his aa5+aa6 backstories but there’s not A Concept to go deeper into like trucy magic and klavier music... it does involve his past from being the foster system. i think maybe there’s a teen who he was kind of the older brother of for a while before the kid got adopted who contacts him for help defending himself.

- while trucy and klavier’s stories are about rejection from their blood family, apollo’s is about warmth with a boy who he met and made a familial bond with

- at the end of this case there’s some piece of evidence that mentions kristoph and this is never resolved within that case but it sort of leads into the next kristoph-focused case

- trucy doesn’t get angry at apollo over being like jealous there’s something else that happens in this case... it doesn’t end super satisfyingly and tidily wrapped up in a neat bow. there are a lot of lingering questions and it makes everyone uneasy

- in case 3 apollo gets injured and is feeling really defensive and kind of scared and trucy is upset with him for putting himself in harm’s way to save her and they have a fight and they’re both kind of hiding their true feelings with anger to cover up how scared they were (gramarye secrets) and it just. boils over. klavier tries to mediate but it’s... a lot. they both say some things they don’t mean. :(

- oh my god. the person who got poisoned in case 4 was apollo’s foster brother from case 3. and it HURTS because we’ve spent a whole case getting to know him and working so hard to save him from a guilty verdict and it’s like :D yay he’s ok! and then he just. dies. and it’s so fucking sad

- he got poisoned because kristoph looked through papers and found that him and apollo were close so he’s like “oh i can use that ^_^” because he’s a bastard. but klavier was the one in constant contact with him recently so it’s like UH OH! UH OH! plus other aa level complications etc

- the tightrope of trucy being mad at apollo and the tragedy of apollo’s foster brother dying is one that will have to be very carefully walked bc we don’t want trucy to look like an asshole because above all she does love apollo

- i guess it’s also apollo pushing her away because I’M FINE. STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME CONFRONT MY TRAUMA. IF I THINK ABOUT MY PROBLEMS I WILL GO INSANE. yeah that works

- OH and also she’s mad at him for not telling them about the lunch with kristoph’s lawyer friends. klavier is kind of mad about that too so apollo is like STOP GANGING UP ON ME

- so the setup of case 4 is: day 1: apollo and klavier investigating, in court klavier is implicated and is put in detention, day 2: apollo investigating by himself and missing his friends :(, franziska being like “where is your sister” and apollo being like “ok first she’s not my sister. second IM FINE I CAN BE ALONE, I CAN’T TRUST ANYBODY ANYWAY” and franziska is like “... yeah being betrayed sucks, i get it, but like. are you sure about that. fine whatever you idiot be a fool”, but then in court trucy busts in at a dramatic moment and narrowly saves klavier from getting a guilty verdict, day 3: trucy and apollo investigating and Saving The Day!!!!!

- for franziska in case 4 there’s this tension between her belief that klavier is guilty (because shit looks BAD and also kristoph sort of sent shockwaves through things etc) and franziska being older (she has short hair and it’s hot) and more emotionally mature and being like “baby lawyer. it’s okay to chill. it’s fine. you’ll be okay”. but also being extremely wary and hating the corruption and collusion within the law community because MvF dealt with a lot of that and she will be BETTER than that, she has to work hard to erase the harm that her father did. she’s kind of a superhero in terms of tackling a lot of corrupt-lawyer/cop cases - it’s her specialty now. god she is hot

- aw in case 4 ema is like. kind of reluctant to help implicate klavier. because while she thinks he’s annoying she doesn’t think he’s a bad guy. she feels really conflicted :( like she blusters to cover it up but she does say to apollo at one point “hey... you better do your job right. don’t slack. defend your client.” awww she care him

- kristoph gets brought out from prison as a witness in case 4. this really negatively affects klavier (and apollo too kind of but less so), but the strength of Found Family helps him be strong :) yay

- there’s mention made of kristoph having Secrets, but since apollo doesn’t have a magatama and phoenix isn’t there, the black psyche-locks aren’t explored. it gets revealed in aj3

- apollo does have a conundrum similar to the aa5 stuff where his perceive ability is going haywire at klavier’s entire emotional state because BOY is it screwy (suppressed memories from childhood??) so he just has to rely on plain old logic

- (cw animal death) god what if one of those childhood memories is kristoph poisoning klavier’s pet - experimenting, doing trials. klavier realizes that during the trial. jesus christ. evil bastard kristoph i hate his guts. at least klavier gets to go home and pet vongole so so much

- OH on a happier note we get to meet mikeko... mikeko loves trucy and klavier so much. it’s like a big gooey hint that LOOK APOLLO LOVES THESE PEOPLE - HIS CAT IS PURRING AND CUDDLING ALL OVER THEM :) Express Your Feelings, Apollo

- i think for aj3 it’s apollo & co having their own schemes and plans sort of. bc in this setup, klavier and apollo (and trucy too) are being yanked around by the machinations and plots of the older generation like in aa4. i think in aj3 is when they finally get a leg up and have control over things for once. good for them! good for them

- oh also in aj3, it’s revealed that thalassa has been held hostage by some bad guys, which is why she didn’t come back after some time away to figure herself out to tell them. and then apollo and trucy get to know they’re siblings :)

- okay that’s it. maybe i’ll add more if i think of more. hope u enjoyed :~)

#ace attorney #apollo justice #aj2 #klapollo #trucy wright #klavier gavin #i had a lot of fun writing this post :)#chirps #aa #aa4

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hopeswriting · 5 years ago

Text

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: Cuddling

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

RATING: G

PAIRING: Adult!Lal & Adult!Fon

SUMMARY:

Lal comes home after yet another unsuccessful meeting with an agent. [Modern!AU]

Tag warning: Self depreciating language, Non serious wish of self harm (Lal is just being dramatic)

WORDS: 582 (BONUS: 1413)

Lal doesn’t slam the door closed behind her. She doesn’t throw her bag nor her coat down the leaving room, and doesn’t kick away her shoes after removing them like they’re soccer balls.

She closes the door and collapses on the previously-blanketed-and-pillowed-by-Fon floor, half in the entryway, half in the living room, still fully clothed.

Fon sends a “Quicksand Lal” text to the others to let them know they can’t come in right now.

At least her eyes weren’t red-rimmed, and she didn’t look about to burst into tears.

“I’m the one mistake god kept in this world to remind themself to never commit such an atrocity again.”

Fon winces. Well then, now he would just have to find the name of this last agent, editor, whoever, so they can have a little chat.

Did they have to make her leave their meeting in such a state every time?

He thinks the fuck not.

“You’re my very favorite person on earth, and I simply would have had to fist fight god to make you if he didn’t already do it.” Fon lies down too in the other direction, his head at the same level as Lal’s. “I would have won too, by the way.”

Lal huffs a laugh, sad and weak. She hides her face with her hood, closer to tears than Fon first thought.

“Why do I even keep trying?”

“Because it’s who you are. You never let the world put you down for long, and you’re not about to start now. I won’t let you.”

“Why fucking bother?” She kicks the bag at her feet, sends it flying against the wall. “How hard can it be to write a decent book? I’m just incompetent.”

Fon gently removes the hood and the hair out of her face. He brings her close, and lies on his back so she can rest her head on his chest.

“It’s very hard. But you’ll work on it again and make it better.”

“If you truly have any ounce of love for me at all, you’d snap my neck right now and spare me the humiliation of my existence.”

“You’ll work on it again as many times as you need, until every one else recognize its worth.”

“If you truly care for me, you’d burn to the ground any traces of my writing you could find.”

“And then we could make the round of all these agents who refused you, and throw a copy of your published book in their face.” Fon weaves his fingers through her hair, scratches her scalp. He peers down at her. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Lal glances at him briefly, and grows more of a dead weight on him. “You don’t even like my book.”

“I don’t like any books. I’m illiterate, remember? Words pretty to look at, hard to read.”

Lal snickers, something brief but genuine, and flicks him blindly somewhere along his jawline. She crawls on her knees to drape herself over him like some heavy, comfort-seeking blanket.

Fon wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, stroking her back in a soothing manner.

“Hey?” he says softly. She hums. “There’s people out there waiting to have their whole life changed by your book, so I better see you working on it.”

Lal nuzzles his neck. “Deal.”

“I brought ice-cream too. Chocolate and hazelnuts flavored.”

Lal sighs dreamily. “You’re the only man I’ll ever lie my life down for. Marry me.”

Fon chuckles. “Well, don’t go tell Colonnello that.”

BONUS:

Okay buckle up because I have thoughts for this verse.

This is a Civilians!Arco, Roommates!Arco, Polyamory!Arco, Slice of Life, Adulting Wrong, Modern AU.

But let's just go with the Arcobaleno Adulting Wrong AU lol.

(And I say civilians as in, their flames are dormant, but they could become active at literally any given moment, because I think it has the potential to be funny but I just didn’t figure out how yet.)

------

Lal and Fon meets in high school. Fon is the new foreign student in her class, and she’s asked to be the person he can turn to if he needs help.

They become best friends, stick together from then on, through high school and college, and decide they’ll live together.

They find themselves a nice two rooms apartment, but it turns out quickly it’s too nice for them.

So they send the word they're looking for a roommate.

------

Reborn and Colonnello are childhoods best friends. They stick together until high school, then go their separate way after that.

(They do stay in contact though, even if it’s nothing significant at all.)

Reborn majors in Math and minors in Social Studies, and comes out of college as its best student ever without breaking a sweat.

He opens a coffee shop, and finds a studio within his budget, and everything is fine.

Except nothing is fine because Reborn can live in nothing else but at least above average comfort, and his studio definitely does not qualify.

Until his business gets popular and he gets rich, he figures he can bear living with someone else in the meantime.

He finds Lal’s and Fon’s add, but the part he’s supposed to pay still doesn’t quite fit in his budget.

He calls Colonnello.

------

Colonnello is a rich boy. He doesn’t live with his parents anymore, but still absolutely depends on them financially.

They’re the one paying his nice apartment while he’s going through college. He majors in International Business while being the college star basketball athlete.

Here’s the thing though, Colonnello couldn’t care less about it all. He’s doing it because that’s what he’s expected to do.

(Well, he does like baseball, and sports in general, but he doesn’t want to make that for a living.)

But here’s the other thing, Colonnello doesn’t know what the hell he wants to do with his life.

He’d love to step out of the path decided for him to his own path—that’s the only thing he wants actually—, but he literally never knew anything else?

He only ever had to conform to others’ expectations of him, so he kind of comes empty when he tries to think of the alternative.

Somehow he comes to the conclusion serving in the army is what will give him answers.

But then Reborn calls, and he figures becoming independent of his parent’s money is maybe a more reasonable first step to take.

He becomes Reborn’s business partner, and moves in with him with Lal and Fon.

------

Skull hates school. He’s good at school, but he can’t believe he has to legally waste so much time of his life in there.

His parents are adamant he makes it all the way through college, so he makes a deal they won’t be allowed to tell him ever again how to live his life once he does.

He majors in Communication, Social Media and Web Marketing, minors in Sustainable Fashion Design, and then spends every walking living second of his life working to become a pro dancer and nothing else.

Except he still needs a roof above his head, but doesn’t want it to be a too big responsibility on his shoulders, so he looks for roommates.

He finds Lal’s and Fon’s add, but they already have Reborn and Colonnello, but even with the four of them the rent proves to be too pricey still, so they let Skull sleeps in the living room while they look for a new apartment.

They find a nice, four bedrooms apartment, of someone looking for roommates, and thankfully they don’t mind there are five of them.

Skull becomes Reborn’s and Colonnello’s business partner, takes care specifically and only of marketing them on social media, and points out that maybe they’d want to hire some employees for the shop.

------

Verde is the one living in the four room apartment, looking for roommates.

Verde is still a genius in this, and his parents were genius of their own, and they’re dead now but they left him loaded with money.

That’s how he pays the apartment, and everything else in his life, because he lives as a literal hermit and certainly does not have a job.

He never had a job in his whole life actually, and he’s fine with it.

Here’s the thing though, he’s terrible with money. And yeah his parents were geniuses, but the average kind of geniuses, and he’s starting to run kind of low in terms of money.

So he looks for roommates to buy himself as much time as he can.

And he sucks it up when he sees what kind of roommates exactly he summoned in his life lol.

------

Viper is… fucking tired of living in a Society, actually. Did they fucking ask? They fucking didn’t.

They make it until high school and straight up refuse to go to college, no matter what their parents say.

But, yes, they suppose they have to do something with their life. Yes, they’re working on it, they are, they swear.

It’s their 24th birthday, and their parents tell him if by next year they didn’t get their shit together, they’ll have no choice but to kick him out.

Viper immediately tweets this injustice, because, you see, they’re an influencer.

“Influencer.”

It started with them live blogging their whole life with a heavy dose of complaints and dark humor and cynicism, and somehow they made it popular.

And then companies started reaching out to them and, well, they weren’t about to say no to some money.

I wouldn’t say they’re liked though.

Popular? Yes. Liked? Let’s not go that far lmao. Make people talk about them and distract them from their own life? Absolutely.

Viper would die within the first 30 minutes of living in the streets, so they look for a part-time job to try to soothe their parents.

They become cashier at the coffee shop.

Except it doesn’t soothe their parents at all, so when they meet the deadline, they just move in with the others Arcobaleno.

------

Luce is… I’m still hesitating for Luce.

She can be their neighbor, and the only one among them who actually has her life together and under control and going exactly as she wants it to go.

And they kind of secretly hates her because of it, but the spite helps them try harder to get their shit together.

On the other hand she’s genuinely very supportive of them, which not many people in their life are—if any—, because she believes in the beauty and strength and bravery of pursuing your dreams no matter what, and they love her so much for it.

Also she indulges and encourages every last one of their bad decisions, which undoubtedly makes everything worse, but everyone is happy not to point it out.

OR she can be just like them, doing what is essentially procrastinating into adulthood.

I think both have the potential to be funny, but let’s go with the second one for consistency’s sake.

------

Luce has a whole thriving enterprise to inherit from her parents, but no, thank you very much, she wants to make her own mark in the world.

She majors in European & International Business, minors in Entrepreneurship & Innovation, and sets out to make her own mark in the world.

She works in her parent’s enterprise in the meantime, but only because she’ll need money to make her own mark in the world, and also, you know, to live until she makes her own mark in the world.

Which is absolutely a work in progress, she’s working on that right now. Making her own mark in the world.

Luce doesn’t have any fucking clue what she wants her own mark in the world to be. Or more like, she wants to do so many things!

When she talks to Colonnello about saving money so she can try to do as many things as she needs to, he tells her about how they totally could use another roommate to pay their bills.

She becomes a server at the coffee shop.

Okay so I do have more thoughts for this verse, but it’s going to be too long if I write them all at once lol. Here’s part 2!

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fanfic #flufftober 2020 #khr fon #khr lal #cuddling #lal & fon #khr aaw au #this verse is really fun to think about!#can't wait to share what else i came up with with you guys #also i have no clue if you actually meet the agents;editors;whoever in person?#oh well lol #arcobaleno adulting wrong au #mine

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danwhobrowses · 5 years ago

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One Piece Wano Theory - The Fall of Onigashima

Spoilers for Manga Chapters leading up to and including c997

So yeah, that happened Not content with just throwing his weight around in beating 8 Scabbards at once, Kaido decided to up his power play by LIFTING THE WHOLE DAMN ISLAND which he’s gonna then carry across this storming sea, to the Flower Capital - which is in the midst of the Fire Festival and completely unaware that this raid is taking place - which he likely will drop on top of the Flower Capital with the people below: destroying its aristocracy, a large chunk of rebels and leaving the weak and weakened at the mercy of Kaido’s (and Big Mom’s) military might.

So now we have more stakes to deal with, 2 stakes primarily:

Stake 1 - Defeat Kaido before Onigashima leaves the ocean, allowing the island to fall before it damages any populated area in Wano Stake 2 - Prevent Onigashima from falling on the Flower Capital, but at the same time defeat Kaido Obviously, neither are easy, but 2 is much more difficult than 1 to achieve, which means that Stake 2 will almost certainly come to fold, so the question is this: How does the Alliance STOP Onigashima from Falling?

No easy feat, but maybe this is a place for other Straw Hats and side characters to shine. So far I have 7 possibilities linked to who could help save Wano from ‘New Onigashima’.

Option 1 - Gods, Titans and Homies

Option 1 considers the idea of what, or better yet who, can amass to such a size to cushion Onigashima, and the first answer that comes to mind is Prometheus and Zeus. We’ve already seen Zeus and Prometheus grow to incredible sizes in Whole Cake Island and they both are able to carry Big Mom with ease, so who knows how much weight they can carry at that size. Zeus is probably the easier bet for cushioning Onigashima since Prometheus would burn everything too, allowing Zeus to be the pivotal character also allows it to go two ways, either Nami reclaims Zeus from Big Mom in some manner - which will likely lead to BM’s defeat - or Big Mom turns on Kaido and works with Nami to help. This allows Nami to show the strength of her Clima Tact, being able to strengthen Zeus beyond Big Mom’s own capabilities.

Option 2 - The Last Gift of the Minks

Currently the Minks are completely weakened by fighting Kaido, despite their Su Long form they have been left with a stalemate, however the Minks do have a disadvantage: if they turn off Su Long they are out for a considerably long time, too long to return to the fight, but if they don’t turn off Su Long they will die from exhaustion. Unfortunately I am convinced that many Minks will fight to the death, including at least one of the leaders, but there is a more valiant way they could go out, and it’s a power all minks had which is overlooked: Electro. Electro is born from every mink, the ability to produce electricity which is further empowered in Su Long, but when Carrot fought Big Mom’s fleet she was able to somewhat float off the ground, and that is what can help Onigashima float. If enough Su Long Minks surround the bottom of Onigashima, they could provide an electromagnetic field that can keep the island from even touching the surface below, pure static electricity as the Minks give every ounce of their life to save Wano.

Option 3 - Rise of the Kozuki Dragon

Momonosuke has an artificial Devil Fruit of a Dragon, one where he too is able to produce these clouds to float. The problem however, is that he doesn’t know how to use them, Momonosuke has been so busy training his human form that he’s never considered the benefits of a dragon form. Of course, this means Momonosuke cannot do this alone, but fortunately he’s got people who can help; Yamato has extensive knowledge of how the clouds work, Nami has weather magic, Shinobu’s ‘maturing’ theories could help strengthen Momo’s dragon powers or even his own age and experience and, should she turn on Kaido, Big Mom could imbue the clouds with souls to make them Homies, not only being able to funnel more power but give more sentient intent to the clouds themselves, she could even enthrall Kaido’s clouds this way.

Option 4 - Combined Might and Monsters

While we expect at the least Luffy and Zoro to have a crack at Kaido in the final fight, and hopefully more if not all the Straw Hats, there becomes a matter of what others can do to stop Onigashima from falling. We’ve seen Nami’s potential with Zeus but others can also combine in strength. First is Robin, her Gigantesco Manos or even a Spider’s Web could help resist the fall, but of course even she cannot carry that much weight. This is where Chopper’s Monster Point and Franky’s Iron Pirate can also assist with their raw strength, and this is where Usopp can also shine. Usopp’s weaponry appear to involve plants now thanks to his pop-greens, but what if he could influence existing flora? One of the main pieces of the Flower Capital is a giant tree and if he could influence that he too could be able to contribute to pinning Onigashima above him. But it can go farther, Tama’s DF allows the opening to control the entire flying squadron, anyone Tama brought with her (remember she has something brewing in 3 minutes), Drake’s Allosaurus form, Hawkins’ giant Straw Demon, Jimbei can even call the giant Koi from the waterfall (though it may serve more to drag it back), Marco’s phoenix flames may also have influence on top of Apoo’s sound manipulation, Kid’s metal, even Law’s shambles could assist - since I don’t think he could make it big enough to cover all of Onigashima. There’s also the matter of Perospero’s candy if he survives to help and anyone else not revealed to have been present in Onigashima, the possibilities are wide and combined could hold up an island.

Option 5 - Outside Parties

By raising Onigashima from the ground, Oda wants to give us the perception that no other external forces can roll up to Onigashima and support for or against Kaido, but that could be a misdirect. Currently on the surface as far as we know, Big Mom’s remaining forces, Law’s remaining crew and any other samurai, prisoners, SMILE members Tama had taken control over and as far as we know Hiyori, Hitetsu, Onimaru and Caribou, maybe even the Mountain God(s) from the Oden flashback. But outside of who we know is in Wano could be others we didn’t expect to be there; Germa 66 for one may come to ‘repay’ Big Mom for her attempted assassination, reengaging Sanji with his estranged family - and Baeju...which holds bias in this hope - which could just send all the other North Blue boys in a frenzy. The other outside factor is the Marines, Drake may not have called for help but circumstances outside of Wano may call for it: the marines going for a Warlord we didn’t know about (We only knew about Weevil, Mihawk, Boa, Buggy and Kuma, meaning Law and Doffy’s replacements were unknown), if Fujitora also shows up then Onigashima is no problem to his Gravity DF, but it will snowball another conflict.

Option 6 - The Sky Ships

This is probably my most deep-cut part of the Onigashima theory. As much as Luffy has to defeat the Yonko, Wano will never be free unless they see it for themselves: Orochi dead, Kaido defeated, until that is something the people can even believe in, Wano can never truly escape that oppression. Which is why arriving at the Flower Capital during the Fire Festival may actually allow ‘Wano’ itself to help save the country and a key part of that is the Sky Ships. Oda made note of paying attention to it, and making sure that the Fire Festival is as big as ever because this is the 20 year prophecy, every person in the Flower Capital right now is as spirited as ever because they desperately are clinging to the idea of salvation, so what if Oda is actually giving them an opportunity? The Sky Ships alone may actually be imbued with the spirits, the will of those who died for Wano, in that way the spirits of Wano itself could prevent Wano from falling atop of them, the same way Skypeia’s golden bell was to reach Noland and Calgara. It may be simple as these mythic powers from Wano’s culture, but it could be ushered by someone else - Brook. In WCI Brook proved himself capable of suppressing souls of chess soldiers via his DF, able to harm homies via Soul Solid, so what if via his Soru Soru no Mi he would be able to temporarily raise the souls of Wano’s dead and empower them through the memory and belief of the people symbolized by the Sky Ships they would release into the sky.

Option 7 - All of the Above Outside of Luffy suddenly awakening his DF and making the island bounce off or a surprise Katakuri appearance, there aren’t many other options outside of the six detailed. But, why settle for only one option? Each of these options are feasible together as well as apart; Nami can empower Zeus and Momo’s clouds while Usopp, Robin, Jimbei, Chopper and Franky provide weight support as the Minks surround the island and Momo’s clouds with electro and raised by Brook’s soul-powered Sky Ships. A culmination of an absolutely bonkers scenario we’ve found ourselves in which can allow every Straw Hat a vital means of contribution but also allowing Wano and its citizens to have a large part in liberating its country from Kaido, Orochi and the Isolationist Regime Wano currently has.

Whether that comes to be remains to be seen, there are many pieces moving and as with this moment itself, it can go any manner of directions, we just have to wait for Oda to weave his magic.

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lifeofresulullah · 5 years ago

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Calling the Tribes to Islam, the Allegiances of Aqaba and Migration to Madinah

The Prophet Receives Permission For Migration

The Qurayshi polytheists had decided to kill the Messenger of Allah and started to do things to this end. Meanwhile, God Almighty gave the Messenger of Allah the order to migrate.

The Prophet used to visit Hazrat Abu Bakr in the morning or in the evening every day. However, when he received the order to migrate, he went to Abu Bakr’s house at noon, when it was very hot, by wrapping his head. When Abu Bakr was informed that the Prophet arrived, he was surprised and said, “By Allah, the Messenger of Allah never used to come at this time. There is something very unusual!” Then, he invited the Prophet inside and let him sit on the mattress and said, May my father and mother be sacrificed for you, O Messenger of Allah! What is the matter?”

The Prophet said, “Allah gave me the permission to leave Makkah and to migrate to Madinah.”

Hazrat Abu Bakr asked excitedly, “Will I be honored to accompany you, O Messenger of Allah?”

When the Prophet said “Yes...”, he became very happy and started to weep for joy.

Hazrat Aisha said, “Up to that time, I had never seen anyone to weep so much for joy!”, expressing the joy of her father at that time.

The Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr made an agreement with Abdullah b. Urayqit, who was a polytheist then but who was well-known as a trustable person who always kept his promise, to guide them to Madinah. They gave him two camels and agreed to meet at the foot of the Thawr Mountain.

Then the Prophet left the house of Abu Bakr and returned home.

Information Given by Hazrat Jibril

Meanwhile, Jibril (pbuh), the angel of revelation, came to the Prophet, informed him about the decision of the polytheists and instructed him what to do:

“Tonight, do not sleep in the bed that you used to sleep up to now!”

Thereupon, the Messenger of Allah called Hazrat Ali and said to him, “Sleep in my bed tonight! Take this green cardigan of mine and cover yourself in it! Do not fear! Nothing will happen to you!”

He also told Hazrat Ali to stay in Makkah until he returned the goods trusted to the Prophet to their owners.

Makkans trusted the Prophet, whom they named “Muhammadu’l-Amin” very much and they entrusted their valuable goods, which they feared losing, to him. When the Qurayshi notables decided to kill him, there were many valuable goods entrusted to him. Despite this decision, he ordered Hazrat Ali to return the goods to their owners, showing his dignity and trustability.

The House of the Prophet is Surrounded

In accordance with the plan that had been made, about two hundred polytheists with their swords chosen from all of the tribes gathered in front of the house of the Prophet after one third of the night passed. Among them were protagonists and brutal people like Abu Jahl, Abu Lahab and Umayya b. Khalaf. The murderers were waiting for the night to end, the sun to rise and the Prophet to leave his house. According to their customs, it was a mean and cowardly act to kill someone in his house.

The Prophet leaves his House

The Messenger of Allah left his house while the murderers with swords were around his house. He picked a handful of soil and threw it toward their heads, reading the first eight verses of the chapter of Yasin. None of them could see him and he passed through them.

After a while, some of their fellow citizens went over them and asked them, “Why are you waiting here?”

When polytheists said, “We are waiting for Muhammad”, they said, “Muhammad threw some soil toward your heads and left a long time ago. Look at your heads and clothes!”, virtually mocking the murderers!

They looked at one another. They were covered with dust and dirt. They were surprised. They entered the house at once. They saw someone lying covered with a cardigan. They said, “There he is; Muhammad is sleeping!” and continued waiting until it started to dawn.

When they saw that Hazrat Ali got up from the bed instead of the Messenger of Allah, they were astonished and said, “By Allah, what was said to us was true!”

Then they asked Hazrat Ali, “Where is Muhammad?”

When Hazrat Ali said, “I do not know!”, they were astonished and did not know what to do.

God almighty stated the following in the verse that He sent down upon this event:

“Remember how the unbelievers plotted against thee, to keep thee in bonds, or slay thee, or get thee out, (of thy home). They plot and plan and Allah too plans but the best of planners is Allah.”

THEY GO TO THE CAVE OF THAWR

After leaving his house, the Messenger of Allah went straight to the house of Hazrat Abu Bakr. They prepared some things for the expedition and put some food in a leather bag.

Then, the Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr left the house through the small door at the back of the house. They set off to Thawr Mountain, which is down in the southeast of Makkah, three miles (about an hour) away from the city.

Hazrat Abu Bakr walked sometimes in front of and sometimes at the back of the Prophet. The Prophet asked him, “O Abu Bakr! Why do you do so?” Hazrat Abu Bakr said, “In order to watch and protect you, O Messenger of Allah!

A Snake Bites Hazrat Abu Bakr

They arrived at the Cave of Thawr on Thursday night.

The cave was desolate. First, Hazrat Abu Bakr entered the cave. He cleaned the ground and leveled it. He blocked the holes in the cave with pieces of fabric torn off his garment. When the pieces were not enough, he blocked the last hole by putting his foot on it. Then, he called the Prophet inside the cave. The Messenger of Allah put his head on the knees of Abu Bakr and fell asleep.

After a while, Hazrat Abu Bakr felt a great pain in his foot that he had put on the hole. He realized that a snake had bitten him. However, he did not remove his foot. He did not even move lest the Messenger of Allah should wake up. He was in so much pain that tears fell down her face. When a few tears hit the face of the Messenger of Allah, he woke up and asked, “What is the matter, O Abu Bakr?”

Hazrat Abu Bakr, the symbol of loyalty, said, “O Messenger of Allah! Something bit my foot but it does not matter. May my father and mother be sacrificed for you!”

The Messenger of Allah rubbed the place that the snake bit with his spit. By the grace of Allah, the pain was eliminated and Hazrat Abu Bakr recovered.

A Spider Weaves a Web; Pigeons Build a Nest

Meanwhile, upon the command of Allah, a spider came to the entrance of the cave and weaved a web; and two pigeons came and built a nest. Those animals started to keep guard in order to protect the Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr against Quraysh!

Makkah is searched thoroughly

When the polytheists could not find the Prophet in his house, they got very distressed and sad. They started to search Makkah thoroughly at once. They went to the house of Hazrat Abu Bakr. When they could not find them there, they got furious.

When they could not find the Messenger of Allah in Makkah, they hired a town crier, who shouted, “We will give one hundred camels to anyone who fetches or kills Muhammad or Abu Bakr!”

When the announcement was heard, all of the thieves, murderers and criminals took their swords and sticks; they went out of Makkah and started to run around.

Some searchers hired two trackers from Banu Mudlij. They found the footprints of the Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr. They reached the foot of the Thawr Mountain by tracking.

One of the trackers said, “By Allah, they did not go beyond that cave. The footprints cease here!”

Some of them went to the entrance of the cave together with Umayya b. Khalaf.

Hazrat Abu Bakr’s Sorrow

Meanwhile, the Prophet and Hazrat Abu Bakr could see the polytheists but the polytheists could not see them.

Hazrat Abu Bakr was in panic and sorrowful. He said, “O Messenger of Allah! I would not feel sorry at all if they killed me. I am only an individual. However, if they harmed you, it would cause the destruction of your ummah!”

The Messenger of Allah said securely, “Have no Fear, for Allah is with us”, consoling him.

Hazrat Abu Bakr said, “O Messenger of Allah! If one of them bends down and looks, he will see us!”

The Messenger of Allah said in a safe and trusting voice, “O Abu Bakr! What do you think will happen if the third person who is present here along with two of us is Allah? Do you think you will be caught?” Then, he prayed Allah to make Hazrat Abu Bakr relieved.

Allah indicates the incident in the Quran as follows:

”If ye help not (your Leader) (it is no matter): for Allah did indeed help him; when the unbelievers drove him out: he had no more than one companion: they two were in the cave, and he said to his companion "Have no Fear, for Allah is with us": then Allah sent down His peace upon him, and strengthened him with forces which ye saw not, and humbled to the depths the word of the Unbelievers. But the word of Allah is exalted to the heights: for Allah is Exalted in might, Wise.”

The Spider and the Pigeons Keeping Guard

The polytheists who came close the Cave of Thawr said, “Let us search this cave.”

The Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr could hear what they were talking.

One of them approached the entrance of the cave but he returned without looking inside the cave.

The others asked, “Why did you not look inside?”

He said, “I saw two wild pigeons had built a nest on the entrance of the cave. I never think they can be inside!”

Umayya b. Khalaf, a ferocious polytheist, shouted at his friends furiously,

“Why do you still walk around that cave? Do you not see that a spider had woven a web? By Allah, I think that web had been woven before Muhammad was born!”

Thereupon, they moved away from the cave.

Thus, God Almighty protected His Messenger against Quraysh through the spider and the wild pigeons He appointed!

Days in the Cave

Our beloved Prophet, who entered the cave of Thawr on Thursday night with Hazrat Abu Bakr, stayed in the cave on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. They stayed in the cave for three days and nights as a precaution. During this period, the polytheists would think that they had left Makkah and would loosen the search. And it happened like that.

During the period when they hid in the cave, upon the instruction of the Prophet, Abdullah, the son of Hazrat Abu Bakr, walked among the Qurayshis during the day and found out what they were talking and thinking about; at night, he went to the cave and told the Messenger of Allah what he had heard. He stayed in the cave and returned to Makkah at dawn.

Meanwhile, Amir b. Fuhayra, the slave of Hazrat Abu Bakr, were herding sheep nearby and erasing the tracks of Abdullah; he also took some milk to them.

Thus, three days and nights passed. The search of the Qurayshis for the Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr had loosened. That was the news brought by Hazrat Abdullah.

Meanwhile, as they had agreed beforehand, Abdullah b. Urayqit arrived at the foot of the Thawr Mount with the two camels delivered to him beforehand and his own camel on Monday morning at dawn.

Hazrat Asma Brings Food for the Journey!

A sheep was slaughtered and cooked for the Prophet and the people on the journey. Asma (may Allah be pleased with her), the daughter of Hazrat Abu Bakr, put the meat in a leather bag and took it to the cave along with a leather bottle full of water.

Hazrat Asma had forgotten to bring a band or rope to tie the mouth of the leather bag and bottle. She looked around but could not find anything to tie the bags. Then, she took off her waistband and divided it into two. She tied up the leather bag with one piece and the leather bottle with the other. Thereupon, the Messenger of Allah said, “There are two bands for Asma in Paradise!”

Therefore, Hazrat Asma is called “Dhat an-Nitaqayn [The One with two Waistbands]”.

LEAVING THE CAVE OF THAWR

It was the fourth Monday of the month of Rabiulawwal.

It was time to leave the cave.

Hazrat Abu Bakr presented the better one of his two camels to the Prophet and said, “May my father and mother be sacrificed for you, O Messenger of Allah! Get on it!”

The Messenger of Allah said, “I will not get on a camel that I do not own!”

Hazrat Abu Bakr said, “It is yours! May my father and mother be sacrificed for you. Get on it!”

The Messenger of Allah said, “No, I won’t” “I will not get on it unless you tell me the price you have paid for it!”

Hazrat Abu Bakr had to tell the price of the camel and the Prophet accepted to pay for it.

The Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr got on the camels. Hazrat Abu Bakr also let his freed black slave Amir b. Furayha get on the back of his camel so that he will serve them on the way.

Abdullah b. Urayqit, who was very good at leading the way, was in front of them. They left the Cave of Thawr.

The Prophet Calls out to Makkah

The Prophet was about to leave the holy city he was born in and grew up. He stopped his camel near the place called Hazrawa. He looked at the holy city sadly and said, “By Allah, you are the best place that Allah created. You are the most beloved one in the sight of Allah. There is no city more beloved and beautiful than you for me. If I were not forced, I would never leave you and would not settle anywhere else.” , expressing his love toward Makkah.

Thereupon, God Almighty sent down the following verse to console His Prophet:

“Verily He Who ordained the Qur'an for thee, will bring thee back to the Place of Return.”

They followed an unusual way toward Madinah in order to make it difficult for the enemies to follow them and to deceive them. First, they rode south, toward Tihama, which is near the Red Sea. Then, they turned north. They proceeded on the way parallel to the coast. They rode the camels until Tuesday noon without stopping. They stopped to have a rest on Tuesday in a shade. The Prophet started to sleep. Hazrat Abu Bakr was waiting like a guard next to him. He also watched around. He saw a shepherd at a distance. He went over to him. He took some milk from the shepherd and brought it to the Prophet. He gave it to the Messenger of Allah when he woke up. The Prophet drank it thirstily.

Milkless Goat Gives Milk

Strange incidents took place during the journey.

They went over to the shepherd and asked for some milk. He said, “I have nothing with me that can give milk except that goat. It is pregnant and went dry.”

The Messenger of Allah reached his hands out to the udders of the goat. He rubbed them with his hands. The udders got full of milk. They all drank the milk.

The shepherd was astonished. He said, “Tell me for Allah’s sake, who are you? I have never met someone like you!”

The Messenger of Allah said, “I will tell you if you keep it a secret!”

When the shepherd said, “OK. I will.”, the Prophet said, “I am Muhammad, the Messenger of Allah!”

The shepherd was more astonished now. He said, “So, you are the person that the Qurayshis say, ‘He went astray. Is that right?”

The Prophet said, “That is what they say!”

Thereupon, the shepherd said, “I witness that you are a prophet! What you have brought is true. Only a prophet can do what you are doing. I will follow and obey you.” Thus, he became a Muslim.

The shepherd said that he also wanted to go with them. However, the Messenger of Allah said, “You cannot do it today. When you hear that I become successful, then, come and join us.”

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