#Voice of the Paranoid CARRIED everyone in that route and I love him so much for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

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Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.”

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life.

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive.

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall.

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes.

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling.

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses.

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room.

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls.

The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

“Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

“Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint.

One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version.

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over.

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed.

“But – “

“I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

“Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin.

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

“Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines @luluthegreatandterrible @bambamwolf87 @drakesfiance @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

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I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Part 25

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: So, if you haven’t noticed, I’m gonna do one every other day with this so I don’t get burned out again. Hope that’s constant enough for you! Sorry about my little hiatus but I should be good now!

Warnings: Talk of murder, PTSD Flashbacks, the usual stuff.

Also, Feedback is really appreciated :)

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of reality - Edgar Allen Poe

Unfortunately for you, serial killers didn't know how to wait. So not two days after Spencer had finally been able to be home with you were they called on a case. Their first one without you since you were hired.

It left you with a slight dull feeling in your heart as you sat curled up on the couch reading the same page over and over as you kept losing focus. Morgan had stayed, as Spencer had promised. But he was currently asleep in Spencer's bed. Something about it being softer than his own with Savannah. Whatever that meant.

You grumbled and closed the book after your fifth attempt at distracting yourself from how lonely you felt. And how the nagging feeling of thinking you're being watched didn't go away, even with Morgan’s less than helpful presence.

You sighed and put the book down on the coffee table and picked up the remote instead. You flipped through a few channels until you find the news channel was having a 'Breaking News' segment. When the title appeared on the screen you almost screamed.

19 year old Arthur Grant goes missing from his family's estate, reward not yet posted.

You widen your eyes, your hands beginning to shake. Why? Why you? Why must you be overloaded with so much grief and trauma? Did some bereavement mailman decide to ditch his route and dump all of the bad stuff on your doorstep?

You didn't even have tears that came to be shed. You'd cried so much the past week that you had run the banks dry and squeezed more than at least 5 headaches out of you. And each of them having lasted at least 4-5 hours. Sometimes more.

Instead of your normal first step of denial, or depression in the stages of grief you unfortunately knew too well, you found anger boiling up through your feet, making your toes curl and your fists clench. You were pissed. Everyone around you was suffering because of Peter's self-absorbed, narcissistic, and sociopathic God-Complex. And you were sick of it.

You didn't care who heard, who came running to see if you were okay. You just couldn't hold back your frustration anymore: you screamed.

You threw the remote against the couch, still having half the mind to keep from destroying it. It was still Spencer's property. You didn't exactly have the 20-40 bucks to give to replace it. So, precautionary aggression was the best course of action.

Your hands found your hair and gripped tightly, letting out a frustrated and loud grumble. You could still see his cocky smirk, his evil eyes as they stared at you like you were nothing but a good fuck to him. You could hear his sickening laughter in your ear, and you could hear the rumble of the gravel underneath the tires of his stupid truck. You were almost there, same feelings, same feeling of paranoid, survival instinct came rushing into your decision making controls and overrided them.

You were engulfed in the flashback, seeing him, feeling the cold metal of the cuffs around your wrists as they dug into your skin, the shiver of having your clothes ripped off of you like you were some prize he had won, it was too much.

You were panting and holding your head, trying to make sense of everything and trying to get a grip on your own reality. You ended up backing up into the dining table and sending things to the floor. This only amped up your paranoid reaction, causing you to be on guard, but thankfully the flashback was able to end.

Then, some poor soul decided to knock on the door. Your eyes snapped towards the mahogany door and you let out an instinctive growl. You then began stalking towards the door, sneering and baring your teeth.

As you made your way towards the door, a pair of protective arms wrapped around you, preventing you from opening the door or causing anymore ruckus from your rampage.

"Woah there feisty, what was all that for? I thought you were seriously in trouble."

Morgan’s calm but worried voice was like a fire extinguisher to your anger and your guard, calming you down in a matter of minutes. The fire quelled inside of you, being replaced with a lake of sadness and pain. And unfortunately, that meant that instead of anger, well, you had to deal with tears. Which you had recently come to find were annoying as hell.

"Morgan…" you breathed, letting yourself become almost limp in his arms. You felt the tears building, almost climbing inside your eyes. You couldn't do this. You couldn't face him again. Face these memories. But you were fucking stuck with them. You had no way of forgetting them. Ever. Thanks to your stupid memory. You didn't want it. You wished you had a normal memory, or at the very least an eidetic memory like Spencer's. At least then you could forget some things. But you? No. No the only things you couldn't remember were whether or not your parents ever really nursed you or even held you when you were an infant. Even the things you did remember weren't pleasant. No warm glow, no blanket colors. Just the cold, monotone voice of your father introducing you to your 'future staff'.

Morgan held you, not asking you any questions. He just let you begin to cry and let out your frustration on him. Your balled up fist gently hit his chest a few times as you wailed and inaudibly tried to explain what you thought had happened. He didn't stop you, just tried to sooth you as the knocking sounded again.

You froze in Derek's arms, the knocking now being persistent and fear-inducing now that you had your overly cautious mind back.

"D-derek…" you whispered. Derek shook his head.

"I'll get it, alright? You stay right here." He says, gesturing for you to stay. He didn't have to tell you twice, you were still hiccuping from your sobs.

Derek slowly approached the door, looking through the peephole before opening it slowly. "Hey… you should've called first. We might've been able to answer quicker."

All of your fears and concerns and panic all ceased at the sight of the man, well more of a boy, that stood in the doorway.

You stood there in disbelief as you called to him, hoping you weren't seeing things.

"Arthur?"

○●♡●○

Spencer sighed as he was put in charge of the geographical profile yet again. He had a newfound routine in having you help him with it so much so that he found it harder to do his job.

Not to mention his mind was filled with worry about how you were at home. How your well-being was, if Morgan would be enough company for you when you had the nightmares he knew you had after everything. He'd been the one to comfort you after each and every one in the hospital. He just hoped that Morgan could still comfort you while he was away.

Not only that, but a certain Real Estate Broker had his mind doing flips and his eyes seeing red whenever he thought of him and what vile thing he could be planning next. Spencer hated being away from you. Especially when everyone knew by now that Peter was a snake and was easily able to slither away. And to sneakily find you as he had done before. Spencer was thankful now that he had asked you to stay with him in his apartment rather than your own. If you were staying in yours, the chances of Peter finding you were 90-100%. And he hated those odds.

So safe to say, Spencer's mind was at odds with itself. And to top it all off all he could think about was what it would be like to squeeze the trigger and kill Peter himself. For you. That's all he wanted was revenge for you. He'd have to make sure he didn't instigate anything, so that it would be seen as self defense. But he would love to feel the backlash of gunfire if it meant that Peter would be dead. And you would be safe.

"Hey, any progress on that profile yet?"

Spencer looked up and saw JJ standing in front of where he stood next to the map, having found himself lost in thought with his fist clenched around the little box of pins in his hand.

"Oh, uh… no, not yet. I was just… distracted is all." He admitted, pulling out the box from his hand and pinning the last two locations for the dump sites.

"From what I can see just from first glance is that the dump sites seem to be within 6 or 7 miles between each other, give-or-take." Spencer expressed, trying to flip on his work brain to no avail. He soon found himself thinking of you before he finished his statement.

JJ looked at him with a sad smile. "You're worried about her, huh?"

Spencer was caught off guard by JJ's question, causing him to turn towards her a few seconds later. "Huh? Who?" He asked.

JJ gave him a slightly teasing look. "You know who. Garcia told us and the rest of the team about your little crush on her. Apparently she overheard you talking to your mom a few weeks ago. Said you loved her." JJ reveals, a gentle and motherly smile on her face.

Spencer felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, suddenly feeling much warmer in his cardigan than usual. "S-she did?'

JJ nodded. "Mhm. It's okay, Spence. Besides, I kind of figured after how you carried her back to the ambulance. She was snuggled up on you. And you refused to let her go until you knew for certain that the lead medic had an actual medical license." JJ teased gently.

Spencer sighed and rubbed his neck, closing the box of pins so as to not spill them all over the carpet. "Is… is it that obvious?"

JJ nodded again, a slight giggle on her lips. "Am I or am I not a liaison for the BAU?" She asked, obviously giving him a half hard time. "But seriously, I know you're worried about her. We all are. But she's gonna be alright. Morgan’s with her. Even with a busted knee he can wrestle any man to the ground."

Spencer sighed. JJ was right. The only reason Morgan had been taken by Peter was because he caught him off guard and was shot before he could shoot first. He was more than capable of protecting you. So why did he feel so badly?

Spencer rubbed his face and put the box down on the map's marker holder. "I know, JJ. I just… I can't help but worry about her. What if she has a nightmare and I'm not able to be there to comfort her? Wh-what if she has a panic attack and I can't get to her cause I'm all the way out here in South Dakota?" He asked, his worries getting the best of him.

JJ lifted her non-full hand and laid it on Spencer’s shoulder, no matter how much taller he was than her. "Spence. She's going to be okay. We have people watching over your apartment building on Strauss's orders. They're doing it on their overtime. I think she's safe. Even then, you're just a phone call away, right?"

Spencer sighed again, now noticing that JJ carried with her a coffee in her hand that wasn't on his shoulder. JJ laughed. "I'd be wary of the day you don't smell coffee when it's available. You're lucky it's for you." JJ teased, handing the warm cup to him.

Spencer took it and took a quick sip of the liquid. "Thank you, JJ. Really. I… I really needed this." He says. JJ nods.

"I figured you did. Now I gotta go address the press. They're gathering like vultures out there. So I gotta be their food source." She jokes. Spencer laughed and nodded.

"Yeah… actually, most vultures tend to go for larger prey than the usual roadkill, as that is more sustenance for them-" Spencer began to ramble. JJ laughs as he caught himself.

"Yeah, just like every animal it seems." She answers before he leaves the room, opening the door wider as Garcia bursts into the room with her laptop.

"Reid! Reid I think I might've gotten word about Peter!"

○●♡●○

"Arthur?"

Your brother chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck. "Surprise? Please don't tell me you've watched the news. You know how dramatic mother is. I told her I was going to come visit you and-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as you very quickly engulfed him in a hug. You felt short, as he had grown much taller than you. But you didn't care. He was still your little brother. And you loved him.

"Y-you're okay… you...you've grown so much…" you begin, looking up at him as you pull away. Arthur's arms had very quickly reciprocated your hug, enjoying the first bit of contact he has had with you since you left.

"Yeah, apparently somewhere in my genes there's supposed to be another inch or two. But I think I'm done." He laughs, laying a hand on your head. You smile at him, your panic completely gone at this point.

Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms from where he stood. "(Y/N), you wanna tell me who this is?" He asks.

You look over at Morgan and laugh softly, Arthur having given Morgan his most awkward expression. He really hadn't changed much.

"Derek, this is my younger brother, Arthur Grant." You introduced. Then you turned to Arthur. "Artie, this is SSA Derek Morgan. He… He was the agent P-Peter captured alongside me."

Arthur widened his eyes and held out his hand to Derek as he gulped. "N-nice to meet you. T-thank you for protecting her. She's really all I've got." He says, rubbing his neck.

Derek smiled and gave Arthur a firm handshake in return. "It was my honor, Arthur. I'm glad she's got some real family left. Not that her work family isn't good." He jokes, nudging your arm. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself.

"Hey, as a wise man on Supernatural once said, 'Family don't end in blood'. And I think that qualifies here." You giggle softly, happy to have found even a small bit of happiness and willingness to be able to express it freely.

Arthur shook Morgan’s hand gladly and smiled his signature smile, looking back towards you. "Hey, uh… sis? Can we… can we talk? I haven't seen you for… what is it… five years now? I just wanna catch up." He expresses, his eyebrows turning up genuinely.

You sigh, but nod. "Morgan, can you go into the other room while we talk? Just for a half hour?" You ask. Morgan shrugs and nods.

"'Course kid. He's the only member of your damn family I'll trust. Just don't be gossiping without me." He teases as he leaves the room. You giggle softly as you watch him leave.

"So… how have you been? O-other than-" Arthur began, his awkwardness taking over. You sigh and hold up a hand and look at him sadly.

"Artie… please, let's just… not talk about that. I'm dealing with it. That's all that you need to know right now. You might be taller than me, but that doesn't mean that you're gonna know all of my secrets like an older brother." You tease, guiding Arthur towards the couch.

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes and followed you, mocking offense. "Oh come on, height has to factor in there somewhere Sis."

You shake your head and take a seat beside him on Spencer’s couch, sighing gently. "Nope, sorry little bro." You insist.

Arthur smiles at you and leans back on the couch, sighing as he looks at you. "(Y/N/N)... you… You have no idea how much I've missed you. I pushed myself to graduate with all honors because of you. I got a scholarship too. In business. Because you always pushed me to do better. To do my best. I… I want to do something for you in return. Please. Name it. I can start making it up to you."

You give Arthur a joking look and shook your head. "No need, Arthur. Besides, that was all you. You just needed the extra push. I'm so proud of you." You say, laying a hand on Arthur's arm. He smiled at you and took a sigh, signaling to you that the conversation was about to take a turn.

Arthur's hands intertwined with each other and he leaned over for a moment, his elbows digging into his thighs. "(Y/N)... Look I… I know you said you were okay but…" he sighed again. "Mom she… she forbade me from seeing you in the hospital, I promise that's the only reason I wasn't there. After I promised to testify against her for you she banned me from leaving home."

You widen your eyes, your mouth gaping a bit. "Arthur… y-you're testifying?"

He looked up at you and nodded. "Yeah. She assaulted you at work and literally sold you, sis. If I can put her away, along with him, I'm gonna do it. For you. I want you to be safe. I may not be your older brother, but I want you safe too. I'm gonna try and protect you like a brother should. I couldn't do much as a scrawny 13 year old you know." He chuckled. You laughed briefly, a smile teasing at your lips.

"Yeah… not really." You giggled. He shook his head and laughed back.

"Ha ha. Very funny. But really… it's good to see you sis. I… I'm sorry I didn't do enough for you back then." He exhaled, his expression solemn and regretful. You take his hands in yours and give him a reassuring look.

"Hey, just as you said. You were a scrawny 13 year old. What much could you do?" You point out. Arthur sighed.

"I could've protected you. At least told Peter to scram at least once." He grumbled. You shake your head and smile at him.

"I think I did that enough for the both of us."

Arthur smiled softly and looked down, showing you his vulnerability when it came to you. You squeezed his hands gently, assuring him it was okay.

And you both sat there in each other's company for a few more moments of silence. It wasn't an awkward one, so there were no awkward feelings.

Arthur spoke up a few minutes later, having come up with an idea. "Can… can I at least pay for your therapy? I can pay for it with the money dad gives me. You… you need to see someone. I saw someone, you pushed me to go see Dr. Francesca and now I see her every two weeks. Please… let me do this for you."

You sighed as Arthur began to try and persuade you. Damn him and his puppy eyes. He still had the gift.

"Tell you what, how about we call Derek back in here and we watch some procedural cop show that we can all laugh at and I'll tell you what I decide later?" You narrowly avoid. Arthur thankfully notices this and drops the question.

"Only if the show is dumb enough for a citizen like me to laugh at it." He settles.

You giggle and nod. "Deal!"

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sweet-barnes · 4 years

Text

Snake Eyes - part one

Pairing: mob!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: abduction/kidnapping

Summary: ‘Snake eyes’ meaning the worst possible result; a complete lack of success. Getting caught up between two of the biggest mobs in the city was never how you expected your night to go, and falling for a mob boss can only end in disaster.

A/N: Part 1 is finally here! I’m really excited for this series and for you guys to read it! I hope you enjoy it and any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Snake Eyes Masterlist

The place around you was dark and the air felt sticky. You could hear water droplets falling from the roof, splashing on the floor in an inconsistent rhythm, sending you back under but your head kept jolting up every time it fell down slightly. You couldn't lose consciousness, that’s when bad things would happen, you had a feeling. You tried to keep your head up. Keep your breathing steady, tried to look around for anything that would give you a hint of where you were. There was only black in front of you, and behind you, and to either side of you.

How had you ended up in this situation? You had been walking home from work, you knew that because you still had your usual work clothes on. Black trousers and a white button up shirt that was surely now covered in your sweat, tears and dirt from the place you were currently in and the trauma that had brought you here. It had been later than usual. Your boss had asked you to stay a bit longer to finish some reports he'd received earlier that day that needed to be checked over by you before they were sent. You had the next two days off so it had to be done that night.

It was raining as you walked out of your building. You had pulled your jacket closer around your body to shield yourself from the cold. Where was your jacket now? You took your normal route home, down the brightly lit streets from the orange glow of the streetlights. You passed the shops through town and then came out of the centre, heading downtown towards your flat. It was a 15 minute walk when you were walking fast, and tonight you were in a rush to get out of the rain. It had been around 6 minutes in when you heard the sound of the car in the street.

It wasn’t unusual for cars to still be driving at this time, you knew of some places that worked later than yours, well into the evening, and the people who worked there would be leaving right about now. But you had expected the car to pass you sooner rather than later. You heard it when you were at the top of the street. In your rushed state you didn't think much about it, you carried on walking with your head down, arms wrapped around your body until you reached the end of the road, ready to cross onto the other side and turn down the side alley that cut through to your side of the town. The car still hadn't passed.

You stopped at the side of the road, looking around for any traffic coming your way to cross safely. As you were doing so you looked behind you, back at the car you'd heard at the top of the street but not noticed passing you. It was right behind you. Your heart beat picked up and you could feel it pounding in your chest.

You had never felt unsafe in your neighbourhood. Everyone you had met from your apartment complex had been kind and friendly ever since you moved in, telling you about all the lovely places in town that you could visit for different occasions. You had never experienced anything that would cause you to have a differing view of that either, nothing bad or unsettling had ever happened to you while you were out in your daily life. So this car caught your attention.

The headlights had been turned off but you still couldn't see inside, there was only the shadows of three people. Two in the front and one in the back, seeming to look straight out at you. You quickly looked away, glancing around once more and then crossing the road once you realised there were no other cars around. Just the one behind you. As you started to move down the street some more, this time as quick as you could without looking like you were running away, you heard the rumbling of the car engine behind you once again, but it never passed.

You didn't want to look behind you and draw attention to yourself but you couldn't help it. You felt yourself start to panic as you turned your head, locating the car following just behind you, still with no headlights on but there only seemed to be two shadows in the car now instead of three. That's weird, you never heard the car doors open or close.

You shook your head to yourself, you must be paranoid, overthinking the situation just because it's dark. You reached your turning, moving hastily around the corner as you knew the car couldn't fit down this street and you wanted to get out of the way as soon as possible but you were stopped in your tracks as you walked straight into something.

You jumped, looking up as a small squeal left your mouth, into the face of a tall man. He was wearing a black suit, white button up underneath the jacket and a dark red tie to finish the look off. He had sunglasses on, even with it being practically night out, and you felt immediately unsafe in his presence.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you mumbled, attempting to move past him as calmly as you could. As soon as you attempted to move, you felt his large hands grip both your arms, turning you so your back was pressed against his front. One arm came around your waist, holding you in place and the other came up to your mouth, covering it before you could yell out for help.

He moved you both back onto the street and your eyes searched frantically for anyone nearby that could help, but there was no one. It was empty. He led you to the parked car, another man dressed identically to the one holding you had opened the boot and was waiting beside it as you were lifted and shoved in. You tried to fight back, your arms thrashing and your legs trying to push you up but the strong arms held you down and the man holding the boot door shut it down some more. The hands were lifted from your body quickly but before you could make a move, the door was slammed shut.

Tears poured from your eyes. You looked around through blurred vision at the confined space you were in but there was no escape route. You tried to scream but you felt the car start to move and you knew. No one was coming to save you.

You vaguely remember the car coming to a stop. Hearing the men open and close the doors, and move around to the end of the car you were currently in. You felt numb. Bright lights blinded you as the door was opened but as soon as you saw them, an object was flying at your head and there was darkness once again.

Now, you were strapped to a chair, in a dark and dingy room, with your mouth gagged. You tried to cry, tried to feel some pity for yourself in this situation but all your tears must have come out during the car ride to this place. You tongue felt dry as you tried to swallow and it touched the fabric in your mouth.

It felt like hours before something happened but in reality, it was only five minutes. The door at the other side of the room opened, a soft light coming from the other side and you were able to make out four pairs of legs walking in before the door closed once again. You heard clear footsteps surrounding you as your eyes widened to look through the dark to see who was approaching, but it was no use.

You felt warm tears falling down your face as a sob wracked your body, clearly there were just enough tears left. You tried as best you could to beg for your life with the gag in your mouth. "Please don't hurt me," you tried, "I haven't done anything."

"Don't worry, we don't want to hurt you," a deep voice came from the darkness in front of you. You took a deep breath in as you heard it, pausing in your folded over state on the chair, waiting for the voice to speak once more. "I need you to do a job for me."

As the man was speaking, a spotlight was turned on above your head. The singular light illuminated your crumpled form but there was enough light to reveal the men around you. You instantly recognised the one who had been speaking. He was the kind of man you didn't want to be involved in. His presence meant trouble. You had seen him on the news, in the papers, on social media. But some people just couldn't resist the temptation.

Rumlow, the mob boss of HYDRA.

"I need you to bring me James Buchanan Barnes."

Part 2

#james buchanan barnes #mob!bucky #mob au #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #snake eyes series #mobster!bucky x reader #mobster!bucky drabble #mobster!bucky

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

Note

Man, I love the Choi twins so freaking much, but when I truly imagine myself in the MC's place, I can't help but question my ability to handle some of the things they go through, especially in Saeran's route. I have ADHD, and from that RSD, which is basically when my brain goes, "Even if it wasn't actual criticism/rejection, here come the tears anyway!"

I honestly think I do a very good job and turning my ADHD into something positive; I make jokes out of the quirks that it comes with, and sometimes I don't even have to try, because things like bursts of rapid-fire questions only for me to answer them myself all within one breath tends to elicit laughter on its own.

But RSD, my emotional sensitivity, I hate it so much. I hate it; I hate crying in front of others. I don't even like it much on my own. I don't care how much people say my feelings are "valid" because sometimes they aren't! Sometimes it's really a stupid thing and yet the tears come anyways even though I don't deserve to cry over that, I don't need to, it's not something to cry over.

...I don't work well under pressure. Under time limits. I freeze up, my brain goes blank. I literally cannot think well until I'm calm, and staying calm can be very difficult. I just... I'm not sure I'd be good enough, strong enough, for either routes, and I know it's not really a big deal, but I can't help but feel a little... disappointed in myself.

I have a better chance in Saeyoung's route; my determination to help him, my stubbornness, could be enough for me to pull through, but I'd probably be so damn hesitant and nervous after his cold demeanor sticks around. Even a quiet, level, but cold, statement such as, "We can't even be friends" would probably bring the tears and UGH I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

Saeran... that's a special case. And, again, I know it's not a real situation, but I can't help but think about it, and I'm sorry I'm ranting like this, but it just kinda got to me and I needed to write this out kind of in depth. Thank you for reading this far...

Due to a friendship in my past -- my first best friend -- I think I would struggle with him a little. Not so much during his route, although the ADHD and RSD would make that difficult, too. Man... I wouldn't give in, not at all, but you can bet 100% that I would cry at least a little every damn time Suit Saeran came in to verbally torment me. Literally none of what he says would actually hurt me, but just because they're harsh words... And I wouldn't put it past him to actually reach into my insecurity of my ADHD making me annoying and overbearing, because I likely would've mentioned it to Ray once or twice or a million times lol.

But past that, GE Saeran seems to be heavily emotionally dependent on the MC -- no surprise there, but I... My friend. She was like that. Different issues, though: depression, anxiety, self-harm, and eventually suicidal thoughts.

I carried all her secrets, all her problems. I was in middle school. I was eager that someone would trust me so much. I was certain it had no impact on me.

And then it did. And it still does. I took on an... unfavorable habit. I still do it on occasion -- and I do small versions of it everyday. It's a terrible and destructive coping mechanism, but I... I like it.

We had a fight. I told her parents everything. They got her help. I'm happy for her, always still worried about it, but we're not friends anymore. I couldn't take it.

Ever since that, I get cautious around people who show similar behaviours to her -- thinking, I can't deal with a repeat.

Saeran isn't exactly a repeat, and I'd still want to be there for him 100%... but I'm afraid of how it might affect me. I don't know what would happen. Maybe I'd accidentally end up distancing myself from him, or maybe I'd fall back into the position of taking all of his burdens onto myself, as much as he would let me...

I realize Saeyoung would likely also be a little emotionally dependent as well, but I still think I could handle that a little better... maybe... Geez. It's not a big deal now, but... I mean, people like that -- people who are or get emotionally dependent -- exist. And if I meet someone who I really like, platonically or otherwise, and they end up being even a little emotionally dependent, I fear I would unintentionally distance myself, and end up losing an amazing relationship... This is why, I believe, the thing with the Choi twins affects me so much. That, and I know I would really want to help them, but I would struggle with so much feelings of inadequacy... No, I'd struggle with emotional inadequacy itself...

Sorry for this long post, but thank you for reading... ^^"

[417]

There can be a true catharsis in writing out your feelings so I hope that you feel a little better now that you’ve gotten it out. The fun thing about games is that it is allowing you to range outside of your comfort zone and put you on a playing field where you can click things that you may feel too nervous or unsure to do in your actual life! It’s good that you can find comfort in these characters, as well, and I totally get where you’re coming from.

Here’s the thing, yes, there are hard times emotionally with both of them but do not think for a second that they wouldn’t stop themselves in the middle of what they are doing if you start crying or get upset. Neither of them wants to hurt you or make you cry. They’re both fully aware by the ends of their routes that they’ve got a lot to work on.

It’s not easy. But, coping and learning how to deal with your trauma in a healthy way takes time. Realistically, the events of the game should happen over a much longer period and that would make it easier to put yourself in the situation and deal with as it comes. Especially with Ray’s Route, specifically. Because there is such a drastic change in his feelings. Falling in love and playing with the line of what he knows and what he doesn’t... that’s a whole thing.

Yes, to an extent, he leans on his MC. I’ve talked about that before. He’s going to lean on them a lot. He won’t mean to do it but he’s only ever lived his life in the sense that he can please others and do for them. Everyone gave him a reason to be alive and to exist, and now that he doesn’t have that, he doesn’t know what to do and that’s hard. That’s going to be a battle in itself but he’ll get better in time with therapy and positive support from everyone. However, that can be exhausting, so that’s something to take with care.

Saeran knows that he needs to work on himself and he’ll apologize and work with you when he does that. You just have to be gentle with him and be honest about how exhausted it makes you feel. He’s willing to work with you and take care of this. He wants to get better. He wants to fight for his health. But, Rome isn’t built in a day. If you love him and he loves you, he wants to make this work.

Saeyoung is hard in the sense that yes, he loves you and he would do anything for you. His issue is that he can be skittish and paranoid. In the events of the SE, he and his brother still have to live with the fact that their father is still out there and could still hurt them. He’s not going to push that fear onto you specifically but it will show in what he does. He sleeps with his back to the wall. He needs to double-check when you go out alone on CCTV. He watches over you and he can get really scared.

It’s not smothering, per se, but it is something that he needs to work on and very well acknowledge that he is doing. It’s not healthy for him to live like that, but the fear is warranted so that’s hard to fight. He, just like Saeran, understands that he has a long road ahead of him to get better... but he wants to, and the willingness to be ready to fight for yourself is the first step in the long battle. If someone isn’t willing to fight, then it’s not going to work.

With your own fears, I think they would both be happy to help you work on your own fears and help you in your own battle. Support systems are important, and the Choi boys want you to feel safe and loved too. Fear is fear, but love is love, and it’ll be okay. If you find comfort in them, don’t fear that things would spiral out of control, there will be hard nights, but it will be okay. At the end of the day, you’ve got someone that cares about you as much as you care about them.

It’s about being willing to be honest.

Being honest is hard, but you have to acknowledge it. It’s something that the three of you can work on together, no matter what timeline this is. Like, to give you a personal example, even though I love Saeran, I would have a hard time myself being there in the physical form. One of my triggers is loud voices, and I would have an issue with Suit Saeran as well even though I tend to try to rationalize anger and fear to combat my anxiety. I can’t control the fact that I cry when people scream at me, though.

But, I do control how I let it affect me afterward and that’s a part of my personal battle to cope and to heal... and knowing that Saeran is just fighting so hard to control himself and he feels so twisted up, well, I have faith in him even when he is angry and lost. That’s me though, I have faith in people. It’s just good, to be honest with yourself and know that you can find comfort and rationality in that love.

#tw depression #tw anxiety #417 anon #ask #mod kait

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amarabliss · 4 years

Text

Galahdian Dreams - 14 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

You stood outside the crystal chamber looking out at the morning sun reflecting off the buildings a you played with the necklace around your neck feeling the metal bead roll around your fingers. Your heart ached, though you should be happy. The refugee ward had been finished as of last week and it was a huge success.

Yet nearly half the residents there had been sent off to fight in the war and unable to enjoy. Your eyes shut as you pushed the tears back again letting your hand fall to your side.

“Don’t cry for me…” Nyx’s voice whispered in your ear as you took in a deep breath, “if you cry, I’m already lost…”

You clenched your jaw forcing them back and away as you heard someone approaching from the hall, “Ma’am?”

You turned seeing Drautos, “Captain…is it time?”

“Yes ma’am.” He bowed lightly before standing up straight, “Your companions and the prince assured me they would be waiting for you.”

“If Ignis has his way I’m sure they’ve been there all morning.” You walked over to him looking up into his eyes, holding the question you wanted to ask behind your lips.

He took in a breath in through his nose shaking his head, “No word yet, ma’am.”

You looked down to your hands, “Well…I hope to get that changed today. Thank you for your help. I know it can’t have been easy for you…”

“Knowing that you’re fighting for my people makes it worth it.” He told you as he stepped aside to allow you to pass, “I know my king would feel honored that you care so much.”

You gave him a small smile. It was still strange knowing that he was let in on yours and Nyx’s secret. Before Nyx left, he’d told you the Drautos would be looking out for you in his absence and that you could trust him with anything.

It really was all a hazy blur and the last four weeks just seemed grey and empty. The last bit of color left with Nyx.

After you’d been summoned back to the Citadel you were forced into closed chambers with your uncle and his closest advisors…

“With the attack on Tenebrae…we’re left with no choice but to go on the offensive.” Regis frowned listening to Randall speak, “If we don’t show a sign of force they may march against Insomnia.”

“They wouldn’t dare, nor would it matter…” Clarus shook his head before he sighed, “But I am afraid I have to agree with him, your majesty.”

Regis frowned as he leaned over the map on the table, “How long would it take to mobilize our troops?”

“Two days to get them assembled and have their affairs in order.” Clarus told him, “Messages would be dispersed tonight…”

Regis nodded slowly before looking to you, “I will need you to reach out to Accordo and Tenebrae…see if they need assistance or asylum…after that I will need you manage our face with Duscae, Leide, Cleigne, and our people.”

“I understand…” You nodded slowly before standing up looking at the map, “Where will you be sending the troops?”

“It shouldn’t concer-” Randall began to speak before Regis cut him off.

“Information has led us to believe they have troops to the west of here. They seem to be invading from Galahd.” Your uncle looked at you, his eyes holding a fierceness to them, “The fighting may get closer to our city then we like, but with this push we should maintain our peace here.”

“That’s so close…” You frowned looking at the map shaking your head, “Why weren’t we warned earlier? I know we had patrols there…”

“Had is the operative word.” Regis stood up frustrated as he glanced at Randall, “A…miscommunication recalled them off that route leaving us open for invasion…”

You looked between your uncle and Randall seeing tension, “I see…hopefully once we regain control, we can resume the patrol.”

“That is the idea, yes…” Regis slowly tore his eyes from Randall back to you, “Everyone knows what must be done. See to it.”

Everyone moved to the door and you watched Regis staring at the map. You waited for the door to shut, “Uncle…”

He looked up to you before letting out a sad sigh, “You should go…say your goodbyes…”

Your eyes widened a bit before you looked down, “I think he’ll understand me wanting to make sure you’re okay…”

“Is that concern I hear?” He smiled standing up straight, “I can assure you I’m fine…”

You moved around the table looking up to his face. You could see how tired he was. His hair was greying, his eyes were dark and heavy, “I know the weight you’re carrying…shielding the city…casting your powers off to others…Uncle Regi…you have to be careful. If you fall into stasis…”

“I am aware what could happen…and I have safeguards in place.” He put his hands on your arms smiling, “I appreciate you looking out for me, but you should go. He’ll have a lot to prepare for over the next couple days…and you might not see him for a long time…”

You stepped forward giving him a hug, not letting him have a choice, “We’ll get through this…all of us.”

You felt him tense under your arms before gently hugging you, “Your optimism gives me hope…now go.”

You smiled and started for the door, as you opened it, he spoke stopping you, “Y/N…”

“Yes?” You turned to him just seeing Nyx and Drautos out in the hallway waiting.

“Your hair…I like it like that. It suits you.” Regis smiled at you waving his hand around his head indicating your braids the girls had made you, “And watch yourself with Accordo…she’ll try to twist your words if you’re not careful.”

“Thank you…I’ll keep that all in mind.” You smiled at him as he turned back to the map studying it.

You stepped out into the hall closing the door before stepping over to Nyx. He looked at you with worry, “So…Clarus just told Titus to issue summons…”

“It’s what we thought…” You frowned shaking your head, “I’m so sorry…I wish…”

“This is what we signed up for.” Drautos interrupted you, “We knew it was an eventuality…”

“Still…” You looked down from them shaking your head, “Something…something isn’t right…”

“What do you mean?” Nyx stepped closer to you.

Your eyes shifted down the hall seeing people, more specifically Randall and few other councilmembers, “Not here…”

Drautos looked at the pair of you before he bowed slightly, “I’m sure the two of you have things to discuss…Nyx…you only have about an hour before you need to report…”

“Thank you…” Nyx nodded to him before looking to you, “Lead the way.”

You nodded at him walking toward the garden where you were sure you’d find privacy. You turned to him frowning once in the safety of the hedges, “Nyx…”

“You were worried about something back there…” He reached out putting his hands on your arms as he frowned. You felt comfort from his touch, “What got you so paranoid?”

“It’s just…something I noticed…” You looked at him trying to remain calm, “My uncle he’s a very even tempered most of the time and he…he was angry in that meeting. Apparently, the western patrol was recalled…they shouldn’t have been. There was some sort of lack of communication…”

He let out a huff looking away, “Seems to be a trend this last year…”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head a little.

He looked back at you giving you a smile, “Don’t worry about it. I don’t really want to waste time right now…”

You stared up into his eyes finally facing the reality of everything that was about to unfold, “Nyx…”

“Don’t cry for me…” He reached up taking your face into his hands smiling more, “If you cry, I’m already lost…”

“But…” You fell quiet when he kissed your forehead, “Nyx…this is…all too fast…”

“I know.” He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, “We can’t seem to catch a break, can we?”

“How can you be so calm? You’re being sent away…” You grasped onto his hands feeling a well of tears pushing up to your eyes as you took in a deep breath trying to stop them.

“I have to believe that I’m made for something more than just being a soldier.” He spoke confidently, “This is only part of my story…I have to believe that my ending is going to be more heroic then dying in some war that I have very little stake in…”

“I wish I could share that sentiment…” You shook your head as a tear finally escaped. You let out soft sob shaking your head, “Nyx…”

“Oh no…don’t cry…” He smiled pulling you into his arms embracing tightly as he kissed the top of your head, “Please don’t…my heart can’t take it…”

“I’m sorry…” You held onto him shaking in his arms, “I just…the thought of losing you…Nyx, it frightens me…”

He sighed holding you in the stillness of the garden for a moment before he pulled away looking at your face, “There is something I want to say to you…”

You watched him carefully as he stepped away from you. You wiped your face with your hand nodding a little, “…okay…what is it?”

“That’s the thing…” He frowned a little, “I…want to…but with everything changing, it wouldn’t be right to.”

“So instead…” He went on reaching up to one of his braid making a face as he began to undo it, “I think this might carry a little weight in the right direction…”

“Nyx…you don’t have to do anything…” You shook your head knowing he cared about his hair, “I feel like I know what you’re trying to say…”

He nodded as he pulled off a bead from the braid holding it up to inspect it before he looked at you again, “I’m sure you do…but…”

He waved his hand for you to sit with him as he knelt to the ground. He moved close to you reaching up taking one of your braids and gently began to undo it, “Why do I feel like this is more than a little weight?”

He smiled at you but didn’t say anything until he was finished braiding the bead into your hair, “Just something to keep me close by…”

You reached up feeling the coolness of the metal bead, “Everything your people does has meaning, Nyx…”

“Yes, it does…” He nodded slowly taking in a deep breath as he seemed to inch even closer to you, “That is a promise to you…in the darkest night when I’m away…you have nothing to fear, I will return to you and I hope you’ll be waiting for me.”

“Making promises again…” You looked down for a second before looking back up to him.

“I’ll have you know I have yet to break a promise to you.” He took your hands in his bringing them up kissing your fingers, “When I return, I will tell you exactly what I want to say…”

You felt yourself tearing up again, but before they could breach you took his face in your hands kissing him. You felt him eagerly pulling you closer. You both knew that this would likely be the last moment the two of you could share alone, and despite the heaviness you felt in your heart, you were happy being the woman in his arms.

Never in your life had you thought you’d have the opportunity to meet someone and fall for them. Your life had been planned and relationships were far from your mind. Then everything fell apart and this stranger stepped into your life saving your life from day one…

You let your finger drift over your bottom lip as you stepped off the elevator. Glancing over at Drautos he gave you a small knowing smile. Ever your watchful guardian. He had promised Nyx he’d look after you in his absence

And did he ever. So much so, you wondered if the poor Captain ever slept. At your request, you didn’t have a guard unless you left the Citadel, yet Drautos seemed to find you wherever you were at. Apparently, he was not surprised in the least at the relationship between you two, and only warned his king to be careful.

“There you are.” Ignis stepped toward you, his eyes serious and ready for battle.

You gave him a small smile as he handed you a folder with their weeks of work inside. You looked from him to Noctis, Gladio, and a young Crownesguard named Prompto. He smiled eagerly at you giving you a thumbs up as you spoke, “Everyone ready?”

“We know what to do.” Noctis smiled at you, “I’ve got your back one hundred percent. This won’t go unknown anymore.”

“Thank you…Galahd’s people will thank you too when you take the throne.” You told him before walking toward the council chambers seeing everyone filing in, “Let’s go to boys…it’s time to make a point.”

“Nyx, you should have seen her in there…” Nyx smiled at Drautos on the screen explaining what happened earlier, “No punches were held…”

“She’s got a way with words when something matters to her.” Nyx told him imagining you in front of all those snobs, throwing files and statistics at them that they couldn’t refute.

“I had my doubts when she came to me for the list of everyone sent out to the front. She just wanted to send care packages to soldier’s families and it evolved into something so much more…Something that can really help our people…” Drautos sighed before looking back into the camera, “Nyx, she won the king over. When she started throwing the photos of every soldier on the table as he sifted through the names…all of the soldiers with you are all from Galahd…glaive or not…”

Nyx shut his eyes nodding slowly, “Yeah…we noticed…we also noticed that we’re not receiving any relief…”

“That’s going to change. It’s why I really called…not to give you an update on her ladyship.” Drautos explained to him everything you’d won for them, and it sounded like progress was being made on the civil rights front, “Relief will be filtering in soon…and hopefully in a couple weeks you’ll be coming home.”

“Can I actually say that out loud?” Nyx smirked a little before it fell, “Don’t answer that…”

“Nyx…” Drautos frowned looking at him, “If you need me…”

“We’re doing fine…” Nyx cut him off before he could start begging to be by his side again, “I need you there. Someone has to protect our people…don’t think because Y/N’s made your life a little easier on that front you can slack.”

“Har har…” Nyx smiled as Drautos rolled his eyes. He watched his mentor’s face become serious, “can I tell her anything for you? She’s still asking…”

Nyx felt himself hold his breath before he shook his head, “No…there’s nothing to tell her yet.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to tell her you miss her…” Drautos chastised him, “She certainly misses you…”

“I know, I’m a missable guy…” Nyx chuckled a little as he started to hear shouting behind him outside the tent, “I gotta go…”

“Nyx…” Drautos face filled with worry.

“I know…keep my head down…yada yada…” Nyx stood up looking at the screen, “Just…I don’t know tell her…thank you…”

Drautos sighed nodding, “As you command…”

Nyx gave him a small salute before disconnecting and running out into the damp evening of the battle camp seeing everyone running toward the cars. This wasn’t a good sign. He warped to the group looking around for Crowe.

“Move!” Her voice pricked his ears as a car took off.

“Crowe…” He ran over to her grabbing her arm as a mortar shell fell to the ground shaking the earth beneath their feet, “What’s going on?”

“Bastards moved in during the rainstorm…” She shook her head at him, “It’s bad…the trenches aren’t done and…”

“Don’t panic.” He spoke firmly looking around at everyone, “Is Pelna working on it?”

“He’s in the tent still…” Crowe shook her head, “Don’t get your hopes up…”

“I always bet on the underdog…” He told her as he stepped away, “Gather everyone for a line run, we can’t let these Nifs overrun us…”

He heard her calling after him in disbelief, but he didn’t stop, running for the tent Pelna was working in. He ducked in quickly seeing the man buried in supplies, “Pelna?”

Pelna popped up looking at him, “N-nyx…uh…”

“Pelna…what’s going on? You were supposed to be building by now…” Nyx worked his way over to him seeing the stress and worry on his face, “Pel…”

“Nyx…I just…” Pelna trailed off looking down, “I don’t know if…”

“Pelna…” Nyx squatted down looking up to Pelna’s face where he sat giving him supportive smile, “Forget the war…forget everything…I need you to build me a sky sail…for a hunt.”

He saw Pelna’s face light up a bit as it hit home, “A hunt…”

“The biggest hunt of our lives.” Nyx stressed to him punching him in the knee lightly, “Can you do it?”

“I…” Pelna looked back to his plans and everything around.

“Pelna look at me.” He did and Nyx spoke firmly this time, “Can you do it?”

Pelna’s jaw set before he nodded, “Yes…yes…I’ll need some help to have it finished in time.”

“I can spare someone. Get it done.” Nyx stood up patting his shoulder before he left, “Pelna…you’re doing good. Just breathe.”

“Breathe…right…got it, sir.” Pelna smiled at him as he walked out.

Nyx stepped outside taking in a deep breath wincing as he did before he shook it off heading back to Crowe. She was already barking orders at everyone before they turned and ran to their positions. She looked at him as he stopped next to her, “Well?”

“He’ll get it done.” He told her quietly.

“And Drautos?” She spoke in a hushed tone.

He turned to her a little more to keep it private, “Supplies are coming…relief in two weeks…but I wouldn’t hold my breath…”

“Nyx…we can’t keep doing this.” She frowned shaking her head, “We’re to our breaking point.”

“I know!” He hissed at her throwing out his arms, “What do you want me to do? Snap my fingers and get it done right now? I have fought to get what we have now as it is…”

She looked away from him shaking her head before looking at him, “Two weeks…how positive are you?”

“Apparently we have the endorsement of the Crowne Prince and former princess…” Nyx told her with a sigh crossing his arms, “we just have to hold out a little longer…Once Pelna gets the sky sail done, we’ll have the advantage we need to cut their throats…”

“I hope you’re right…” Crowe glared a little at him as she began to walk away, “I don’t wanna die here, your majesty…”

Nyx hung his head a little shutting his eyes tightly trying to remain calm. He hadn’t lost anyone yet…it was only a matter of time. He had to keep everyone going and the rotation seemed to be working to ensure no one stasis’d out on the field.

“I hope I’m right too…” He chewed his bottom lip for a minute before he went to take his own position in the fight. He was tired and hurt…just like everyone…but there was a light at the end of the dark tunnel and the closer he got the more he saw your face.

He wasn’t about to let some empire bastard steal that from him…

“How are you fairing?” You asked your uncle as you poured tea into his cup.

He looked up from his paperwork as you sat down across from him, “I long for the days I could see my desk and not missives…”

“I understand…seems like there is always one more, isn’t there.” You smiled at him as you put some sugar in your cup.

He stopped looking at you carefully, “…you’re worried about your guard?”

You tilted your head a little, “Of course, I’m worried…I care about him and his people.”

“His people…” Regis smiled a little, “Yes clearly…You have definitely stirred the pot…”

“They have been mistreated too long.” You set your cup down looking at him, “Is that why you called me here? To question me?”

“No…I called you because I’m worried for you.” He sighed a little letting his arms rest against the desk, “The physician has told me you haven’t come to pick up your medication…Is everything alright?””

You blinked at him shaking your head, “I didn’t realize that mattered to you.”

“Yours and Noctis’ health will always matter to me…” He smiled a little, “Is something wrong?”

“No.” You shook your head a little, “The opposite actually. I don’t think I need them anymore.”

“It’s dangerous to stop so suddenly…” He told you sternly.

“And I didn’t…not really…” You looked away from him, “it just happened over time…”

“…alright, just promise you’ll take care of yourself if something changes.” He sighed resigning himself.

“I will.” You smiled at him. Lately he’d been calling you for evening tea. You’d discuss the days events and progress on each other’s tasks. It was nice to be able to bounce ideas off him when you struggled.

You had to laugh because he was the reason, you’d been able to drive you point home in the meeting earlier. You’d asked him what he would do to make sure no one could say no to a proposal. He told you to put a face to it, so you put all the faces in front of them.

You’d asked for a list of the soldiers sent out and found that they were all Galahdian…not a single one was an a native Insomnian. You were furious bringing it to Drautos attention to have it verified. When he did you could see contained rage in his eyes. You had to do something.

Thus, you went to the best man for the job Ignis. Speaking about it in front of Noctis drew him to your cause quickly. The other two were just innocent bystanders, but you were so thankful they were there. It would have been so much harder without them.

“I’m very proud of what you did today.” You looked at him as he brought the tea up to his lips taking a sip, “Very queenly of you to see all your subjects. Not just those born here. Thank you for bringing it to my attention and sharing the experience with Noctis.”

“He volunteered.” You smiled at him genuinely, “He overheard me asking a question and actually was the one who spearheaded the statistics.”

“Really?” Regis smiled surprised, “Well…I suppose there’s hope yet…”

You both laughed before quieting down, “Do you think it’ll get better?”

He took in a deep breath leaning back in his chair, “Eventually…but I anticipate it getting much worse. You should talk to anyone in charge of our Galahdian friends and warn. Have Drautos help you for now until…well…have Drautos help you.”

“I will…as long as we can bring them home like we promised…” You looked out the window, “I think that will be the first bridge to trust…”

“No…the first bridge was you.” You looked back at him as he began working again, “You see them as everyone should…people…not foreigners…and you helped them. You will be the key to this, Y/N. Are you sure you can see it through?”

You stared at him for a moment before you nodded, “Yes, I will.”

“Good.” Regis stared you down as he spoke, “Our city will depend on it.”

It was in that moment you saw your uncle in his prime...something you hadn’t seen in such a long time and it reminded you of your father. They had their differences, but they shared many ideals and you were beginning to understand them more now then ever.

“I won’t let you down.” You told him confidently.

“I never doubted you would.” He smiled with a chuckle leaving you feeling satisfied.

34 notes · View notes

sirloozelite · 4 years

Note

Just read your newest kaesoka prompts on ao3 and loved them!!! Potential prompt.... idk if you like doing angst so feel free to reject lol. Ahsoka gets seriously injured and Kaeden is the one who treats her? I guess this could also be a fluffy prompt too or be angst with a fluffy/happy ending so if you want to do this take this whichever path you want to haha.

Hey @ahsokamyqueen, sorry for the delay, but I finally got this prompt you requested finished. I hope you enjoy it and it lives up to what you wanted.

If you want to leave another one at any point please feel free. They make my day! XD

I’ll leave links below, as well as copy the whole thing into this message for you as well.

Fanfic link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12833125/45/The-One-Shot-Saga

Archive link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648131/chapters/55389577

Doctor Kaeden Larte and the case of the Critically Wounded Girlfriend

"Careful! You never know what taking that could do!"

Maul sighed. Every time he and Lady Tano ventured together into an ancient tomb or temple, the Togurta was always overly cautious of every move they would take.

He didn't blame her of course. He knew these tombs and temples had devious traps lying in wait for unwitting adventurers.

But he was no ordinary adventurer, and neither was Lady Tano. If anything they were the foremost experts on 'Tomb Raiding' these days. Surely they could afford to be a bit reckless?

"You grow paranoid in your old age, Lady Tano. It is a simple jar upon a pedestal. Nothing bad will happen if I remove it."

"Hey! I'm not old!"

"Then you have grown too cautious. Not everything is out to get you." Maul replied, his tone sarcastic, knowing Lady Tano would see his joke.

From the roll of the Togruta's eyes, as well as the small smirk that came to her lips, he could see if understood.

Yet still she protested.

"We didn't come here for trinkets Maul. There is a holocron here after all. This is the tomb of a Sith Lord after all."

"Yes yes, I know. But I like this jar, so I am taking it."

"Maul don't…."

Maul didn't listen. Reaching a hand forward, he grasped hold of the ornate looking jar, one that was heavier than he expected it to be, before placing it in the small bag he was carrying. It would look nice in his 'house' on Dathomir.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lady Tano freeze up, as if expecting something bad to happen.

But, just as Maul had predicted, nothing bad happened.

"See? Paranoid in your old age Tano. I'd of thought that now you were no longer sexually frustrated that you'd be…"

The tomb shuddered suddenly, interrupting Maul before he could complete his teasing remark.

Perhaps he had spoken too soon?

A loud crash suddenly echoed through the room, causing both occupants to spin and look for the source of the noise.

Maul spotted it quickly. A part of the roof had fallen down, crushing whatever lay below it.

It was then that another section collapsed, followed by another, and another.

"You were saying Maul?!"

Maul had no time to respond vocally. Instead he span back towards Lady Tano and nodded once, a gesture she understood the meaning of instantly.

Without any more delay, both broke into a sprint, retracing their route in as the tomb caved in around them.

"You just had to go and take the jar didn't you?!" Lady Tano yelled as they ran, her voice full of mock rage. He could tell she was secretly enjoying it.

Turning a corner, Maul pushed off the wall behind him to regain the speed he had lost in the process. Behind him Ahsoka fell back slightly, not having had the same momentum to regain as much speed as he had. Maul wasn't worried though. Lady Tano was more than capable of catching him up. She had her real legs after all, and wasn't weighed down by the cybernetics.

"Our exit is ahead!" Maul called over his shoulder as he spotted the light of outdoors ahead, ducking his head as he ran in the process to avoid some falling debris.

It was then that he heard a sound that terrified him.

A yell of pain echoed from behind, drawing his attention immediately, and just in time to watch Lady Tano be crushed by falling rocks.

"NO!" Maul screamed in rage as he turned and ran back for her without hesitation, using the Force to lift the rocks that he crushed her off, whilst also keeping any more debris from the collapsing tomb from squashing them both.

Once the rocks were off, Maul wasted no time and bent down to pick Lady Tano up. He didn't have time to check her injuries right now, but he knew she was unconscious from the way her head rolled to one side without control.

Ignoring the strain his use of the Force was placing on him, Maul pushed ahead, shielding Lady Tano from any more falling debris to the best of his ability.

Once clear of the tomb's interior, and outside in the plains surrounding the tomb, Maul allowed himself to breathe, slowly placing the Togruta on the grass before checking her over.

The injuries were not good.

The rocks that had fallen on her had collided directly with her head, severely damaging one of her montrals, leaving a large dent in one of them, as well as several gashes on both montral and face. Maul knew that Togruta relied upon their montrals, and that any damage to them could be life threatening if not treated as soon as possible.

But Maul was no medic, and aside from heading to Dathomir and trying to get the spirits of the nightsisters to help, Maul knew he had only one other alternative, even if it meant he would get shouted at… a lot!

Still, if that was the case, he would bare it. He had to save Lady Tano, just like she had saved him.

Steeling himself, Maul gently picked Ahsoka's unconscious form up, and headed for his ship.

He needed to speak to a certain doctor who knew Ahsoka better than most.

********************************************************

"Hey Kaeden, there is a Zabrak here with a patient. Says he wants to speak to you specifically."

Kaeden Larte honestly wasn't surprised. In the time she had been working at the Alderaan General Hospital, she seemed to have built up a bit of a reputation as one of the most effective, and sometimes scary, doctors on the ward. Apparently she just had a way with medical skills that led to her being recommended to everyone.

Of course the flip side of that was that nine times out of ten her days were exhausting. Rewarding yes… but exhausting.

At least she had someone to go home to though. Seeing Ahsoka after a long day on the ward always made it worth it.

"What's wrong with him Kas?" Kaeden asked her colleague, standing from her desk and gathering her tools. Hopefully this was nothing too serious.

However, judging by the look on Kas' face, it clearly was serious.

"Well, it's not him Kaeden, but his friend he brought in with him. Togruta female. Heavy damage to the montrals. She's unconscious, and this 'Maul' guy is insistent that you come immediately."

Every bone in Kaeden's body suddenly ceased, a thick pool of dread building up in the pit of her stomach at the mention of the Zabrak's name.

If it really was Maul, and he was in the company of a badly hurt Togruta, that meant that his friend was…

"No! No no no no no! Kriff!"

Kaeden didn't wait around to see Kas' reaction to her sudden cursing, nor did she wait around for more information. If Ahsoka was hurt as badly as Kas said so Kaeden was needed now!

Moving as fast as she could without resorting to running, Kaeden exited her office and moved through the ward, heading towards a set of rooms that she knew new arrivals were placed in.

It didn't take her long to locate Maul. His booming voice gave away his position immediately.

"I do not care if you are a more qualified doctor! I want Doctor Larte NOW!"

"Maul, I'm here!" Kaeden called out as she entered the room, startling the other doctor who had attempted to intervene.

Maul's face was a myriad of emotion. Part anger, part impatience.

And part full of worry too.

And then Kaeden saw why.

A single bed was in the room, and there, bruised and beaten, a large crack in one of her montrals, was Ahsoka. Her usually bright orange skin had dulled considerably, her perfect facial markings that Kaeden loved to trace scarred by various cuts.

Kaeden felt her heart plummet instantly. How had this happened?

The only saving grace, and ray of hope that Kaeden had was the heart rate monitor currently attached to Ahsoka. Her heart was beating at a steady rate, despite her external injuries.

"We were in a tomb, and it collapsed around us. Lady Tano was crushed by falling debris. I tried to help her, but this level of damage is beyond my abilities Doctor." Maul spoke, his voice oddly soothing, despite his darker persona.

A rush of emotions overcame Kaeden. She knew that realistically, she shouldn't be the one to treat Ahsoka. Her emotional attachment to the Togruta could compromise the situation, leading to the worst possible outcome Kaeden could imagine.

But Kaeden didn't care for rules, not when Ahsoka's life was at stake. Kriff what the 'Board of Directors' would think. They could fire her for all she cared! Right now all her attention was on helping Ahsoka to the best of her ability.

"Kas! Cancel all of my meetings for the day. I've got a critical patient that needs my attention." Kaeden called out behind her, knowing her colleague had followed her out of concern.

"Of course Doctor Larte. Consider it done." Kas' voice replied before she left the room, leaving Kaeden with Ahsoka and Maul.

And the other doctor.

"You seem determined to handle this situation Doctor Larte." The doctor spoke, his voice bordering on condescending. From the way Maul snarled beside her, Kaeden could tell the Zabrak thought much the same.

"She's my girlfriend! She's my responsibility." Kaeden spat back, ignoring the look of shock on the doctor's face.

"Doctor Larte, you should know that it would be inappropriate of you to treat this…."

The doctor didn't get to finish his sentence, not with Maul in the room. The Zabrak moved away from Kaeden, his hand instantly falling to and presenting his lightsaber hilt to the doctor.

"I suggest you leave now before my anger takes control. Lady Tano is in good hands with Doctor Larte. The best in fact."

The doctor didn't argue, and whilst normally Kaeden would be concerned by the threats Maul was making, right now she didn't care. She needed to focus on her patient.

Temporarily moving away from Ahsoka and towards the door to the room, Kaeden called out to another of her colleagues.

"Zi! I need you to get the internal scanner immediately. I've got a patient with possible internal damage."

"Right away Doctor!" Came the reply of Zi. The man was usually an overly flirtatious individual, but when he was in 'Doctor' mode, he was one of the most effective.

Kaeden was glad to see he recognized the severity in Kaeden's tone.

Moving back from the threshold of the door, Kaeden scooped up the datapad that was resting at the foot of Ahsoka's bed and began to enter the Togruta's details.

Her mind on autopilot, Kaeden entered each and every detail she knew, from name to age, blood type to allergies.

When it came to 'Next of Kin' details though, Kaeden hesitated, but only briefly.

Continuing on, she entered her own name as the first emergency contact, followed by Rex's as the second, and Kanan as the backup third.

"Her montrals..." Maul's voice interrupted Kaeden's work, the Zabrak now standing at the top of the bed, his golden eyes surveying the damage done to Ahsoka's face, "They are much worse than I thought!"

Glancing up from the datapad, Kaeden's eyes fell upon the montrals atop Ahsoka's head. A large crack ran down one side of one of them, various dents present along the length of it as well. Kaeden had studied Togruta biology during her training to become a Doctor, and knew just from seeing the damage that it was bad.

Togruta relied on their montrals for echolocation and hearing. There was a very high chance that the damage could be permanent, It could lead to a loss of hearing, or worse, tumors in the brain.

There were even reports of such damage to montrals killing who they belonged to.

Kaeden would not let that happen!

"I know Maul. I know. We will do everything we can to help her." Kaeden spoke, struggling to keep her voice level. Part of her wanted to break down in tears at the sight of Ahsoka hurt so bad, but she had a level of professionalism to maintain.

Just then Zi came into the room, the portable scanning device Kaeden had requested in his hand.

"The patient is Ahsoka Tano. Togruta, female, 43 years of age. Born on Shili, but raised by the Jedi Order on Coruscant before the purge. She has a strong affinity to the Force as a result. Her montrals have been severely damaged by falling debris, and there is a possibility that she may have broken bones or internal bleeding as a result. These sorts of injuries can go one of two ways for Togruta, so we must proceed quickly but cautiously." Kaeden spoke, her 'Doctor' persona taking over instantly, pushing aside her emotional investment.

"Wait! She's a Jedi!" Zi's interruption, while expected, was not welcome right now.

"Not anymore. Now do your job human!" Maul's interruption was welcome even less, even if he was voicing Kaeden's thoughts aloud.

"Right, yeah, sorry. Beginning scan." Zi hastily replied bringing the portal scanner up to Ahsoka's prone form, running it over every inch of her body.

The process took several minutes before Zi finally stopped, his eyes running over the readouts on the scanner.

"Well the good news is that there is no internal bleeding, and her bones are mostly intact. One or two fractures, but nothing broken."

"And the bad news?" Kaeden asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"The bad news is that the damage to the montrals is severe and needs operating on immediately. Togruta montrals are hollow, and from the looks of the scanner several pieces have been fractured and broken. We need to graft the damage with skin cells to ensure they heal correctly, as well as remove any shards of broken montral from within the hollow section."

"That does not sound like an easy task Doctor." Maul commented, his tone grim, expression dull. Kaeden felt much the same.

"I won't lie, Togruta very rarely survive such an operation, but without her her chances are zero percent. The problems lie with trying to repair the damage done to the montral without harming them any more. What we really need is something to heal them as we work." Zi replied, handing the scanner over to Kaeden to look at. Glancing at the results on screen, Kaeden could see exactly what Zi meant.

The damage to Ahsoka's montrals had left several cracks along one central fissure. In order to stabilize them they would need to seal the cracks in without disrupting the hollow interior, whilst simultaneously removing any damaged skin. The hope was that but grafting skin cells onto the surface of the montral that Ahsoka's body would react and attempt to self heal. Over time the skin cells would dissolve as the skin montral beneath them reshaped and repaired.

As simple as it sounded on paper though, Kaeden knew this was a risky gambit, but it was also the only one she had available to her, and she knew she would need help.

Turning to Maul, Kaeden spoke.

"Get in contact with Kanan. Get him to send Barriss Offee here as soon as possible. I will need her abilities in Force healing to stabilize Ahsoka whilst I remove the damaged tissue and graft the new cells on. It's likely Ahsoka's only hope."

Maul hesitated briefly, knowing of Ahsoka's past with Barriss. Kaeden too was skeptical, but only Barriss was a true expert at Force healing. With the current dilemma Kaeden was facing, she needed all the help she could get.

Luckily, Maul seemed to agree.

*********************************************************************

Barriss had wasted no time heading to the hospital, arriving only hours after Maul made the call. Apparently the Mirialan had been on Alderaan for a medical conference, one that she had hastily abandoned upon hearing of Ahsoka's predicament.

Now she was standing opposite Kaeden in the operating theatre, her eyes closed as she used the Force to stabilise her patient.

Between them lay Ahsoka, an oxygen mask attached to her face, which was oddly serene despite the situation she was in. Chances are she didn't even know where she was.

Leaning down, Kaeden began to inspect the damage to Ahsoka's montral once more.

The large fissure that ran along one side was jagged, several pieces of it sticking up like a razor's edge. Those would have to be removed before they could go any further.

Reaching onto the table behind her, Kaeden picked up two medical instruments. One was a precision laser scalpel, the other a pair of tweezers. She didn't like the idea of cutting the cracked skin off of her girlfriends head, but it was the only choice.

"Ok Barriss, keep her steady please. Kas, keep an eye on her vitals. Let me know if anything goes into the red. Zi, get ready with the first skin graft." Kaeden spoke, issuing her order to her gathered team. Perhaps she should have chosen a more experienced group to perform the surgery, but this was a personal matter for her. If she couldn't save Ahsoka, then she didn't deserve to have her in the first place.

When she was content that her team understood their orders, Kaeden began her work.

Moving the scalpel slow and steady, Kaeden gently began to make an incision along the cracked edge, removing the sharper elements that were protruding from the fissure. Her goal was to remove the already dead tissue of the montral before pacing the skin graft between the healthy tissue to encourage healing.

It took several minutes for her to be happy with her work before she signaled to Zi to bring the first graft over.

Said graft was little more than specialized bacta patch, one that was neatly laid across the surface of the crack in the montral. Content with it;s placement, Kaeden reached for a new tool.

"Sorry about this bit Ahsoka. It's gonna leave a mark." Kaeden whispered to her comatose girlfriend, knowing what she was about to do would leave a scar that might possibly never heal, even with a skin graft.

The tool in question was a simple precision laser, one used to seal up injuries, or in this case surgically attach the graft to the montral. It would, in theory, burn the patch on, at least until it dissolved at a later date.

Taking a deep breath, Kaeden activated the laser and began to work.

"Stress on the body is increasing Doctor Larte! I'm reading all sorts of head trauma occurring!" Kas spoke from behind, alarm in her voice. Kaeden had predicted this however, and knew what her next move was.

"Barriss, stabilize her mind. Cut off the pain receptors to her brain if you can."

"Easy enough." Came the reply on the Mirialan, her voice steady despite the strain she was likely under.

"Vitals stabilising. Whatever she's doing is working." Kas spoke again, the alarm in her voice replaced with surprise and awe.

Happy with how things were proceeding, Kaeden continued her work, carefully using the laser to attach the graft to the damaged area of Ahsoka's montrals.

Despite the risk it posed however, it all seemed to work, and a few moments later the first graft was successfully attached to the damaged montral.

Stepping back to admire her work, Kaeden allowed herself to release the breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Good work Doctor. One down, five to go." Zi's comment both inspired her, and reminded her of the gravity of the situation. There was still time for it to all go wrong after all.

"Get the next patch ready Zi." Kaeden said, returning the laser to the table and picking the scalpel and tweezers up once again.

She had a long way to go yet before they were finished.

**************************************************************************

Despite the difficulty of the operation, and despite every single risk she was taking, in the end the operation had been a complete success. It may have taken two hours, but it was done, and Ahsoka was stable.

Attacking the skin grafts to the cracks had been the easy part. The challenging part had been dealing with the fissure that ran the length of the montral. Removing the dead tissue on the exterior had been easy, it was the shards that had fallen within the hollow montral that had proven tricky.

Luckily for them all, Barriss had been prepared. Her use of the Force to extract the shards had been a marvel, and one that had saved Ahsoka's life. When she woke up, Kaeden knew she had a lot of talking to do with Barriss.

As of right now though, all she could do was sit and wait.

Her shift had long since ended, but Kaeden had no reason to go home. Her home was sitting before her, asleep, for the time being. Hopefully soon she would awaken.

Sighing to herself, and taking a small sip of the cup of caf she had in her hands, Kaeden began to inspect her work for the fifteenth time.

Ahsoka's complexion had returned to normal, and her vitals had been strong throughout. Her montrals were now coated with various skin grafts, disrupting the patterns that Kaeden had grown so fond of. It was only temporary however. Once the grafts dissolved and the montrals repaired themselves, the patterns that Kaeden loved to trace would be back.

The only long lasting effect would be the scarring where the fissure had been. Kaeden knew that Ahsoka wouldn't care less about any visual damage though. If anything the Togruta would treat it like a trophy!

"Urgghhh, man my head hurts."

Kaeden very nearly dropped her caf at the soft sound of the voice she held so dear. Ahsoka's eyes had opened, one of her hands moving slowly towards her forehead, grasping it in pain.

Wasting no time, Kaeden placed her cup on the side and moved towards Ahsoka, stopping her hand from reaching any higher atop her head. Disturbing the montrals and the skin grafts as they healed would not help whatsoever. They needed to be left alone.

"Hey, hey, it's ok Ahsoka. You're safe now. You're in the hospital."

Ahsoka's eyes widened at Kaeden's words, the blue in them dulling for a moment as she tried to recollect what had led to this situation.

It took a few moments before clarity came to her blue eyes, her expression tightening suddenly.

"That damn Zabrak! I told him not to take the jar!"

Kaeden couldn't help but laugh at the tone Ahsoka had used. In that moment, despite the danger she had been in, Kaeden was confident that Ahsoka would make a full recovery and be back on her feet in no time.

And for that, Kaeden wouldn't have been happier.

#The One-Shot Saga #kaeden larte #ahsoka tano #kaesoka #darth maul #barriss offee

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cynnymonsnaps · 5 years

Text

[Dangerous Fellows Info Dump]

First thing to the fandom and it’s an info dump about all these lovely lovely characters. (Main Capture targets, side characters and our very special MC in all their goodness.)

I don’t regret playing the game but definitely didn’t plan writing like 40+ pages of notes on this, and I regret how much time I put into this.

Be warned that this entire post will have some spoilers from all routes, so I suggest you read this after finishing all routes.

[Capture Targets]

Harry:

Very polite, kind and positive. The kind of boy your parents want you to date.

Protective of those who put themselves or are in danger. Usually goes all mom on them and scolds them.

Tries to mediate among the group, but often times get’s ignored by those arguing.

Bottles in his negative emotions a lot of the times which gives him really bad migraines.

His migraines usually happen when he wants to cry. Let the boy cry gosh dang it.

Used to take medicine for the migraines but ran out of pills. Now just carries the pill bottle around to make him feel better.

Tries to keep hope for the future, what an optimistic man.

His father was an alcoholic who used to abuse his mother and him. One day his dad just disappeared and left them both behind.

He loved his mother dearly. He lost/separated from her when the outbreak began. They were supposed to go to the doctor for his migraines.

When Harry’s dad left, his mom gave him her ring which she said would bring him happiness that he always wears.

Often tries to stay neutral or see the good in people. Doesn’t like suspecting people because it would bring division among the group.

Easy to regret his decisions, slightly unsure when to bring things forward that could change the flow of the group.

Appreciates when MC looks out for him and is happy that they are willing to listen to his troubles.

Harry and Lawrence have a strained relationship that isn’t obvious to the eye. They think too differently when trying to handle peoples lives.

Quite the one for close contact. Often patting MC on the shoulder to comfort or support them. Ex. During Scarlett’s incident he hugged them from behind to comfort them while they mourned.

Ethan:

A man of few words. You can tell what he’s feeling usually through his eyes or through his actions. Ex. Looking out the window while others are out on patrols.

Very brave and willing to put himself in front of others who are weaker to protect them from zombies.

Like a big brother looking after his siblings, giving them snacks when they’re hungry, staying with them if they can’t sleep, letting them cry it all out while he comforts them.

Doesn’t like taking a gamble with zombies, but if there is benefits for the future than he’ll use force to break through.

He looks like he’s made of steel, but even he’s afraid of the zombies.

A very sleepy boi. Someone please go help wake him up. Don’t massage his hand though, it’ll make him sleepier.

Used to be on a baseball team before the apocalypse, who used to joke around with his teammates all the time. Ex. going along with MC and Judy’s married couple skit.

Doesn’t really like thinking too much, (not in a meat head way but more like in a disassociating way.) Often keeps his opinions to himself unless he thinks it’s important to say it. Sometimes can’t get social cues.

If he’s not patrolling around the school, then he’s fixing up something. (Which is why he’s always a sleepy boi)

Lawrence and Ethan almost seem to have a leader and servant relationship. Sometimes it’s a Papa and Dad relationship looking after the teens.

Ethan and Zion are bros in strength and mind. Wouldn’t be surprised to see them work out together.

Zion:

Seems like a cocky asshole, but he’s just mostly a caring rough teddy bear.

Not good at handling vulnerability whether it’s his own or someone else’s. Ex. Often doesn’t know what to do when MC cries except for telling them not to cry because that’s not why he saved them from zombies for.

When heated up in an argument he’ll often get loud and start yelling. He has his opinions and feels frustrated when they don’t come to conclusions because of it.

Hates when people try to play the victim because he knows everyone has their own stories and problems.

Always get’s straight to the point and is always blunt about it. It makes him seem like an asshole without feelings.

Always the first to rush into danger especially when it’s to save someone.

Doesn’t like when people try to bite off more than they can chew. Warns them about it and always ends it with “Don’t get into trouble.” Even though he always does the same.

A Rowdy fellow who gets excited and proud about finding a large food haul, laughs freely with his friends, and doesn’t really care about others opinions about him.

He’ll let people do the dangerous tasks if he knows they can do it. He’d rather the guys do the zombie bashing and patrolling outside rather than some of the girls who can’t fight for themselves. Ex. Judy wanting to go on the outside patrols but Zion rejecting the idea cause she can’t really fight a lot of zombies.

Loves to tease and lightly bully his friends.

Dense when it comes to love. Can’t see the reasons why Scarlett wants to keep his student ID or why she treats MC badly cause she thinks that Zion likes MC.

His family was rich so a lot of people would want to be friends with him for his wealth. Because of all the fake people buzzing around him he’d often forget their faces. Hates when people try to use others for personal gain, so he’s gotten good at seeing the signs.

Instead of looking at his background, he wants people to look at him for him and consider his feelings.

Knows no human can always make the right decision all the time so it’s suspicious to him how Lawrence is able to do so 24/7.

Used to play soccer and can run really fast. Probably was a really good player back before the zombie apocalypse.

Sarcastic to a T.

Strangely gets very serious when asked questions about life or hypothetical situations. Also takes promises seriously which is very cute.

Doesn’t really have plans for the future and never planned to go to College.

Zion and Eugene have a very bro relationship. Zion always bragging his little achievements and Eugene always shutting him down and telling him to stop exaggerating. They both seem like normal teenagers again when they are together. Zion always scares the piss out of Eugene and makes fun of him for it.

No one let’s Zion have his fun exaggerations.

When MC tells him about hearing noises in the hallways, he brushes it off and calls them paranoid. (Which you shouldn’t do in a zombie apocalypse. That’s just like waiting to be killed.)

Eugene:

Has an attitude and not as trusting of the MC at first. But behind that attitude is kindness covered with harsh words.

Easily gets annoyed or fed up when everyone argues.

A slight nihilist, seems to always shift to the negative point of view. Very cautious because of it.

Seems whiny but can actually be strong willed in dire situations.

In his own way, reassures the MC by stating the situation, grounding the MC in the situation. (A good tactic for when you’re disassociating.)

Sarcastic little shit who can’t fight back against logic.

Pretty real with his feelings. He doesn’t shy away from his feelings at all.

Doesn’t seem like it but he tends to worry about the group when they don’t come back on time. Especially when people start disappearing.

Likes when MC is straight with him and make him look straight at the situation sometimes.

Can’t believe how understanding and kind MC is. It pisses him off that they are probably bottling up all their anger and sadness. It’s okay to let out the rage MC please.

Always wanted to become a singer when he finished school. He loves to sing and wants to make it his profession. Everyone didn’t believe he could do it though and thought that it wouldn’t make any money from it. He was very discouraged and hesitant to share it with MC.

Doesn’t really like to get sentimental, usually wants to move away from good times with the gals. You can’t hurt when they die if you don’t get close. *SOBS*

Knows how to play the piano and has a lovely singing voice.

A little weasel and eats the chips that he found during patrol. To not guilt the MC he tells them that everyone snacks on what they find during patrol and makes them an accomplice by feeding them some nice “BBQ chips” (that are actually ramen bits. No you can’t tell me those are chips, there are squiggly noodles in there. HE’S EATING OUT OF A RAMEN BOWL PACKET.)

Willing to be the bad guy and kill off his feelings to get the MC out of the school over run by zombies and get to the safe zone.

He get’s jump scared easily which makes everyone want to scare the piss out of him. He does not appreciate it. At all.

Lawrence:

Seems charismatic and like a leader with a gentle yet powerful voice.

Logical and calculating. Very smart and can make quick yet successful plans.

Seems like he cares and watches out for the others. In truth he is watching the others, finding them troublesome. When they get too troublesome he plans to get rid of them.

Knows how to get the others attention. Especially zombies who are sensitive to sounds.

Makes MC shy with his aura. Later on it turns into fear and anxiousness with how scary and creepy he becomes knowing he’s okay with mercilessly killing someone.

Always seems to have the most perfect timing when accidents happen around the group.

Has a solid mask that allows him to lie through his teeth and distance the suspicion from him.

Has a great poker face until things don’t go how he wants them. In which he becomes disappointed and very quiet.

Likes when the MC is honest with him. He doesn’t like people keeping things from him or lying, but MC would never do that. So kind, pure, and naive.

When someone talks about leaving the school, his masks slips. He does not approve.

To protect his own he becomes very violent and scary. After the giving the (over)killing blows he seems calm and airily creepy.

Possessive over his things. He will make them his. He will have his utopia.

Pretends not to know things. Like the Safe Zone (which he took down all the posters for) or the basement (which he maintained all this time)

Tries to teach people “lessons” when they get to curious and snoop around.

Was an straight A student who studied all the time. He would go to a library and have a study group. Would study for his parents to be satisfied and was probably gonna go to College and get a good job.

Wanted to learn how to bake but his parents wouldn’t allow him.

His parents were probably very controlling and didn’t let him do anything. Which is probably why he feels great to control others and be free to do whatever he wants for the future.

Met the MC two years prior to the apocalypse where they offered him their umbrella when it was raining. He liked them ever since.

Really just a kid who needed real connections and friends and the others could give him that if he stop thinking about them like his own soldiers.

His real cocky smart ass self makes you wanna beat him up.

For sure bold and daring. Dangerously so.

Together with Ethan, they researched what the zombies were sensitive to.

Smart enough to know which chemicals can poison a human being.

KNOWS HOW TO MAKE A BIG GIANT EXPLOSION. HELLO?!? WHAT?!?

Was the student council president before the apocalypse.

[Side Characters]

Judy:

A bubbly girl who is a breath of fresh air that lightens the atmosphere when she's around.

Knew MC before the apocalypse happened. Went to the same school together.

Protective of her friend and overall glad to see her again.

Doesn't like when someone attacks MC so she defends them and tells them to back off.

A touchy feely kind of person and often hugs MC close when they sleep at night. Or shoves her cold hands on their neck when they wake up.

Has a good heart and would want the best for the group. Doesn't want to push MC away even if Scarlett is trying to make her doubt MC and leave them behind.

Admits to not wanting to be alone and wants to be closer to MC, who is all she has from before the apocalypse.

Lesbian/playful sister vibes going on constantly.

Optimistic bean. Still has an imagination and hunger for food cause of it.

Not the brightest banana in the bunch, but that's not gonna stop her from helping around.

Wears a hairpin to keep her bed hair somewhat out of her eyes. (But also where is it? I literally don't see it at all)

Judy has a good sense of humor and often works off of MC's jokes for funny married couple skits.

Likes to eat food. Often craves foods like pizza and fries.

Sue:

Reserved and kind person who gives chances to people. Ex. One of the people who wanted to hear MC out when they first joined the group.

Smart and observant. Knows when something is fishy and correctly found out the culprit just by observing them.

Was probably student council president of her school before the apocalypse.

Very thorough with her searches and seems dutiful in her tasks.

Reassuring and comes to comfort MC when people start to doubt them again. Tries to make them rationalize leaving.

Hailey:

Seems nervous all the time.

Gentle yet scared like a rabbit.

Doesn't have a loud voice or presence. Often blends into the background and can be talked over a lot.

Very tol.

Looks weak willed but is mentally strong as she's willing to go on food searching patrols.

Actually blunt.

Chooses to get to know MC because she can't watch and suspect her without truly knowing.

Worried about Judy and MC eating themselves into a coma. "You'll get fat guys."

Scarlett:

To the point and a realist. She knows the risks they're taking in another person because they'll deplete more resources.

Jumps to conclusions and makes accusations.

When she see's people getting close to MC, especially Zion, she get's aggressive with them.

Doesn't want to listen to or believe in MC.

Arrogant and thinks she is higher on the food chart. Or at least she acts that way, in truth it's mostly a defense mechanism. She's actually introverted and a scared child fearing death.

Blames an unavoidable event on MC.

Okay with letting the MC get into danger. Pretty petty and okay with MC dying.

Lies to the others to make doubt on the MC.

Likes Zion and will cut any girl going for him.

Jay:

Typical spineless guy in a horror film.

Wants to conserve as much resources as possible so doesn't want MC to join them.

Often agrees with Scarlett.

Weak and a coward.

Very whiny. More so than Eugene.

Can't really fight against zombies.

Doesn't go on the patrols and often has the others do them instead.

Doesn't like danger or putting himself at risk. Will push anyone in front of him to keep himself safe. Ex. Pushing MC down the stairs so they can be a distraction for the zombies.

No one really cares about him.

[MC]

You:

Can run well and hit zombies well. (with determination and the right choices)

Survived by themself by hiding in empty homes since the beginning of the outbreak.

Got nervous being around new people and having people around that they burst into tears of relief. It reminded them of their friends and mother and they just miss them all so much.

Knows how to read the room and doesn't usually say unnecessary things.

Often the bigger person when Scarlett picks a fight with them. Ex. Not saying anything rude back at Scarlett and not punching her when she slapped them.

Often keeps things inside until they boil over. Like how they often cry after their emotions get too much.

A quick thinker. Great in critical situations and tight spots.

Often willing to do risky things to help their goal. Ex. Wandering the school to figure out what the key might unlock, searching more for Judy alone, going to the basement alone to investigate.

Has a fear of being alone.

After getting a second chance to save everyone they get very clingy to Judy.

Has an ongoing married couple skit going on with Judy.

When everyone keeps doubting them, they don't feel safe anymore in the school. They don't feel like they belong and almost leaves if not for Sue reassuring them and calming them down.

After Sue admitting her suspicions, MC is careful and acts cautiously. They observe more and doesn't blindly trust. Begins to act differently towards Lawrence from that point on and doesn't see his actions just from the surface.

Nags the guys sometimes, just cause they care for their well beings.

For some hope and positivity for the future they make small life goals that they can reach.

Wins Eugene a chick with a hat on it. (Which also has a cocky face like the boi too.)

MC mourns everyone's disappearance and deaths properly. Even if the people were unkind to them.

They used to massage their friend, Claire's hand to keep her awake during their old Bio class.

MC breaking the 4th wall to change the ending. Any previous route acts as a very bad dream that they had. (My preference for the previous route is the normal ending or Lawrence's ending.)

Very sarcastic with Zion and Eugene.

Really likes sweets.

Doesn't think that they've ever actually encountered Lawrence.

#dangerous fellows spoilers #dangerous fellows #dangerous fellows ethan #dangerous fellows lawrence #dangerous fellows harry #dangerous fellows zion #dangerous fellows eugene #fic #headcanons #long post #dangerous fellows judy #dangerous fellows sue #dangerous fellows hailey #dangerous fellows scarlett #dangerous fellows jay

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gerbiloftriumph · 5 years

Photo

Captive Crown

(also on ao3)

Someone wanted the newly crowned King of Daventry and all his friends dead. Someone got close, once.

(warnings for the whole thing: kidnapping, bruising, starvation, nightmares, healthy dosage of angsty musing, sicfic, story-coherent vehicle for all my favorite ch2 headcanons)

~*~*~

4/7

(1: to steal)(2: to hide)(3: to seek)(4: to find)(5: to break)(6: to mend)(7: to heal, and to end)

~*~*~

It started with a dry cough early in the morning. Hardly more than a tickle. Graham sipped water from the rose fountains and cleared his throat, but it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t normally raise much thought, but he was sneaking around in places he wasn’t supposed to be sneaking. He held his cloak against his mouth to try and stifle the sounds while he was deep in the back tunnels, not sure who might be listening. Annoying, but manageable.

He scrambled through pipeworks and scraped through narrow gaps, hunting for anything that could help them escape. And he found bolt cutters. Half sunken in moldering porridge oozing from a broken pipe, but…bolt cutters. It was almost too perfect. He paused before fishing them out. This didn’t feel like a trap. It felt like a trap that had already been sprung.

He was being paranoid. He was being silly. But, as Graham looked at the broken pipe, at the bolt cutters, at the chair someone short had clearly stood on to reach the pipe’s suspension chains, something prickled the hair on the back of his neck.

Someone had intentionally stopped the food. To starve him and his friends. Kill him. That someone hadn’t expected the goblins to get bored and let Graham out, or else they would have taken this tool, this key to freedom, with them. They were careless in their certainty of victory.

And, with a sick twist in his empty stomach, Graham’s suspicions became just a little clearer.

Distracted, he didn’t notice his cough becoming more frequent as he stumbled back into familiar prison paths with the bolt cutters hidden in the folds of his cloak. Didn’t notice the cough starting to sound wet as he freed Bramble and Wente. Didn’t notice the ache cutting into his throat as he and Bramble stumbled out into the city to find help, alarm bells chasing them down the tunnels.

But now he sank against the wall of some goblin house in some hidden side street, trying to breathe as another coughing attack consumed him. It could no longer be ignored. Something was wrong with him, and it was getting worse.

Bramble glanced at him. “Majesty, that really doesn’t sound good. We should stop and rest.”

“No, no,” he said, waving a hand, staring fixedly at the uneven stones beneath his boots rather than at her, sure she would see guilt on his face if he looked up, his fear that they were going to be caught because his coughing was too loud, unstoppable. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” His voice was tight against yet another outbreak. “It’ll clear. We’ll get hot tea. Once we’re home.”

“Some soup wouldn’t go amiss right now either.” Bramble pressed a hand to her belly.

He nodded blearily. His knees sort of gave out a little bit, and then a little bit more, and then a little bit more again. He sank down the wall slowly, cloak bunching around his ears, until he was almost sitting on the ground.

Bramble leaned against the wall above him and said cheerfully, “That’s it, that’s what we needed. You breathe easy for a minute, Majesty.”

“N-no, wait, I said we didn’t need to stop.” He started to struggle up.

She pressed on his shoulder. “I think the rest of you ignored that. May as well listen to the majority.” She frowned into the darkness. “The majority of me wants Wente, but I know he’s helping the others as best he can, the dear.”

“Bramble, I—”

“No, you stay put,” she said, pushing down harder. “I might be your subject, speaking technically, but I’m still older than you, and a Mother-To-Be, and that has to count for something. I can at least make orders when I can see matters of health and heart, and both are telling us to pause. We won’t be long.” She sighed and closed her eyes, smile a touch strained when she thought he couldn’t see.

Graham wrapped his arms around his knees and listened to the city. To the low murmurs and clatters of stone against stone. The clank of metal. The steady, faraway wash of the underground river splashing against the weird little underground dock where the mattress raft had been tethered. How many days ago had that been? No way to be sure, not yet.

Little glowing dust motes danced between the buildings. A kaleidoscope of colored fungi illuminated street corners and windows. He searched the skyline (caveline?), hunting for a glimpse of that tall structure he’d seen from the prison tower. Their destination.

They had to get to the goblin castle. They had to see the goblin king. That was the only way they could get all the villagers out safely, could make it back to the surface without pursuit or loss. He had to convince the king to free them, but how? Going in swords blazing wouldn’t be the right move, even if he had a sword or the strength to swing it. It would have to be words.

Yeah, right. Like that could ever work.

This wasn’t the first time they’d ducked into some forgotten side alley. They often hid behind buildings and stairs and in shallow dark spaces while they waited out goblins. The little stone-shielded citizens of this place tended to amble carelessly, meandering along the roads in packs. Some of them wore ragged fairy tale costumes. Tattered wolf ear headbands, or scraps of elaborate princess dresses, with battered wooden weapons more suited for make believe than actual combat strapped to their sides. But then again, the real, sharp spears were just as abundant.

Bramble had saved them half a dozen times by now. She somehow sensed goblins half a street over, well before Graham ever noticed. When he asked how she heard them from so far away, she told him that the sounds of their masks scratching against their armor sounded almost like that singing crackle bread gets when it starts to cool down after the oven. “It’s easy to hear since it’s one of my favorite sounds,” she had said. “Or it was a favorite sound. Now I rather like hearing Wente singing when he’s mixing something good.” She smiled shyly, ears going pink beneath her cap.

Now, Graham looked up at her. “Bramble?”

“If you’re about to tell me you’re sorry you dragged me here instead of Amaya again, I’m going to be very cross.”

“No, I, uh. Wanted to thank you. For being here. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“Don’t make me blush again, either.” She grinned, and he could see the determination in her shoulders, in her eyes. She wasn’t in great shape after the imprisonment, but she was still carrying herself in an undeniably Bramble sort of way. A mother (To-Be) scorned and ready to take someone to task with stern words and an open heart. Even after all this, she still didn’t seem to bear hatred in her, though it would have been well within her rights.

Maybe that’s what these story-loving goblins needed? Maybe some compassionate, determined angle with the goblin king was the best route to freedom. Maybe words could win. He would have laughed at the ideas starting to build up in his head, but it burbled into another cough instead.

He swallowed again, cursing that cough and praying that his gradually creeping dizziness was just the result of stress.

~*~*~

As it happened, it worked. He never would have believed it, and yet, it worked.

Words won the day. Compassionate words, hidden in the phrasing of a story. A story that Graham found he knew how to tell very well—a story about himself, and his fears and uncertainties, and the friends he made, and the support he needed. The goblin king bowed to him and his story, ever so slightly, and that—somehow, in this dark place ruled by fantasies—was enough.

~*~*~

The adrenaline of facing the goblin king sparked through Graham’s spine and made him stand straight again, but once the king had agreed to let all of the Daventry citizens go, Graham felt all the excitement ebbing out of him to be replaced with a strange ache that he was sure hadn’t been there before. From his shoulders to his back to his legs, he felt dizzy and distant.

To be fair, by his count he’d been shaken down for contraband at least six times by now. The ache in his legs wasn’t exactly surprising, considering the goblins’ method of shakedown was to literally turn him upside down while gripping his legs, and, well, shake.

“What should we do?” everyone asked. Graham answered as best he could, but his mouth was running on its own, with very little input from him. His hands trembled; he grabbed the hem of his cloak so no one would notice. Just another side effect of stress. Nothing to be concerned about.

He stood listening to them all argue about routes and directions and glare at their reticent goblin guides, and all the while he thought, “Huh. My hair hurts. That’s new.”

Finally, impatiently, the Merchant stepped forward. He was easily in the best shape of them all, and overjoyed to have a freed caravan and two unicorns back (The Other One had been captured, too, though no one had shown much interest in the poor thing and had let it wander uselessly). He barked commands and directed their steps and threw his generous gut around. Graham was more than content to let him at it, following at a lagging pace until they broke out of the tighter tunnels and were able to climb aboard the rattling wagon. They crammed into narrow spaces between empty boxes and expired and crumbling miraculous ingredients. Exhausted but too nervy to doze in case their guides turned back into jailers, the group anxiously watched rocks roll past for an eternity until they broke into the overcast, rainy, late afternoon of Daventry. The first breath of fresh, free air came with a gentle sigh of relief.

*~*~*

The shout came from across the river, and the merchant slowed the cart ever so slightly from its careening gallop to listen. The cry was thus: “Ho there! Good wandering merchant!”

“What did you just call me?”

Whoever it was across the river hesitated for a long moment. “Good...merchant?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s better.” The merchant leaned back and punched Graham in the shoulder. “’Ho there’—ha, what kinda medieval establishment you runnin’ here?”

Graham had his hands pressed over his mouth, but not from coughing this time. After a second he breathlessly managed to mumble, “Did you have to take that turn like that?” His adventurer’s cap, found in the tunnels near the goblin castle, had slipped down over one eye, and he looked positively green.

“Oh, so sorry. I’d think that pregnant lady’d be the one with morning sickness, not a strappin’ young lad like yourself, but hey, whatever. Also, what do you expect when I’ve got a soggy lump of bread for a wheel and one sick goa—uh, unicorn—and no thanks to you. It ain’t no flyin’ carpet ride: you gotta anticipate a bounce or two.” He turned back to face the river, and shouted, “Whaddya want?”

“Have you seen our king anywhere? Or...er...anyone, I guess?”

Graham shuddered, swallowed, and drew a deep breath to answer the guard, but the merchant had a thoughtful look on his face. Before Graham could speak, the merchant leaned back and whispered, “Hey, your magistrate. Scaly lumps of eel guts fried in peanut oil and pickle juice.” Graham blinked, then clapped his hands back over his mouth, making horrible strangled noises. “Hey! You over there!” the merchant shouted, while Graham retched. “There’s a finder’s fee for getting your king and his merry band of villagers back to you, right?”

“A what now? Er. I mean. We don’t really have...yes, yes of course! Did you have an amount in mind? Do you accept frogs as payment? Maybe installments over the course of…er…several years?”

“Oh, shining stars,” Graham groaned through his fingers and pulled himself to his feet. “We’re all here! Here!” His voice cracked and couldn’t carry far. He waved, but he lost his balance and fell back among the boxes.

“King Graham? Is that you?” the guard craned his neck. “Gods, is it really you? Where have you been? We wrote your mother. Have you seen the others? We’ve been so worried. Poor Olfie’s been wandering for days looking! Even Acorn offered to go out. Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you okay? I hope I’m not overwhelming you again. I’m sorry. I am, aren’t I? Maybe we should write an addendum about this or something. I’m glad you’re back. That was you, wasn’t it? I’m pretty sure it was you. Hard to see in this rain. The water gets in the helmet dreadfully.”

The merchant sighed and glanced at Graham. “Well. I’m still gonna ask if I can get a small finder’s fee. Think of all the merch that went to waste. All the missed business opportunities! I deserve a little recompense, eh?” He paused. Graham frowned, clearly about to argue, and the merchant added cheerfully, “Leftover shrimp twice baked in orange yogurt sauce drizzled with chocolate.”

#King's Quest #kings quest #King Graham #goodbye game signposts i'll miss you as i journey into melodramatic original sickfic territory #goblin appreciation blog #ch2 #fic'ing

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sucaritra · 7 years

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Bāṛi - Chapter 14

Word Count: 1766

Warnings: language, anxiety, Negan

Summary: what the hell was that bang?

A/N: we’ve finally moved and slowly getting settled in so updates shouldnt take so long now. also, it’d be nice to hear from some of you cause i tend not to get comments on here, let me know how im doing or youre still reading xo

Masterlist

“James is out there. You think he's caught up in that?” you’re very aware of the increased thudding of your heart as your eyes refuse to stray from the thick plume of smoke in the distance.

As soon as Negan was positive that there was no immediate threat or danger, he’d left the boudoir with nothing more than an order to all the wives and yourself to stay put. You barely registered his exit as your mind turned a million miles a minute trying to come up with a plausible motive behind the explosion.

“He's a survivor, I’m sure he's fine,” Kira’s words did little to calm your nerves, though her comforting hand on your shoulder was a nice touch. “Besides, even if he is caught up in that, you never know, he might’ve been the one to set it to distract some walkers or some other threat. You never know.”

You didn't think of that. It was a tactic you’d used yourself in the past whenever you had found yourself trapped by the dead with no escape. Sure, you’d never caused massive explosions to distract the rotting hordes, but you didn't have the supplies that the Sanctuary and it’s Saviors had. Maybe this was a particularly large horde that needed maneuvering away from the Sanctuary?

“That's not a bad idea, but it is wrong.”

The sudden, distinctly male voice in the room full of women was enough to bring your guard up and immediately tear your gaze away from the window, only to land on Mason. He smiles warmly at you before his attention is drawn back to a slightly offended Kira.

“And how do you know that? Hmm?”

Mason slowly makes his way towards you as he replies, “because, he and the rest of his crew have no business being anywhere near whatever the hell that was.” Once he was standing in front of you, Mason turned you back around to face the window, reaching around you and pointing in the opposite direction of the fiery mess. “There. That's where they went scavenging. I organised their route myself. They're nowhere near it.”

The relieved sigh that escaped your lips caused Mason to squeeze your arm in reassurance as you smiled up at him, wholly grateful towards him for lifting the suffocating weight from your shoulders.

“Not that it’s not nice to see you, but what are you doing up here?”

“Negan sent me up here to watch over you ladies, make sure nothing big goes down.”

“You mean bigger than a giant explosion that rocks the entire building and can be seen for miles?” you can't help but raise your eyebrow at him, slightly incredulous.

Huffing out a laugh as he shakes his head, Mason concedes your point, “alright, little Miss Snark, what do you ladies do to pass the time around here?”

You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to tell him that this was your first time in here, before turning towards the closest wife, who just so happened to be Tanya.

“Well, usually we've got Negan to bounce on to pass the time, but that probably won't work now.”

“No, probably not.” You couldn't help but grimace slightly at that lovely image in your head now.

“Uhm… I think we've got some cards around here somewhere?”

With Mason watching his girls, Negan could direct all of his attention on the fucking shitshow that decided to interrupt his dinner. He stood out on the balcony of the first floor, giving his Saviors time to gather in the games room down on the ground floor. No matter where he turned his head, the opaque column of smoke always lingered in his peripheral, seemingly a constant in the scenery surrounding the Sanctuary,

Negan’s gloved hand clenched around Lucille at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up behind him, only to relax seconds later as he recognised Simon’s gait.

“Everyone’s ready boss.”

With one last long look at the blemish in the distance, Negan turned on his heel and made his way inside to address his people.

The plan was simple, they’d done this many times before. The explosion was a clear sign of survivors, how many, he didn't know. As with the discovery of survivors in the past, Negan will send out a group of Saviors to locate the group and “recruit” them to join the network of employees providing for the Sanctuary. If there are refusals to bend the knee, then some sorry fucker’s brain matter painting the ground should do the trick. If the stupid fucks still refuse, well, then Negan gets to have his fun.

Once the crews chosen to venture out and hunt down the culprits of the eyesore had been briefed and sent on their way, Negan decided to head back upstairs where he can wait for news on the expedition in the comfort of his wives.

And future wife.

Entering the boudoir, Negan spots his wives, minus Sherry and Amber, sat around a table with Mason playing cards. You watch as he searches the room for the other two wives, quickly taking notice of them through the open bedroom door before his sight finally lands on you lazing on the chaise lounge. You scooch over and make room for him as he makes his way towards you and drops down next to you with a heavy sigh.

You know it’s going to be a long night for your leader, so you sit in comfortable silence, leaning ever so slightly against his arm and watch the highly competitive game of Go Fish taking place in front of you.

“Last we heard from ‘em was four hours ago.”

“They would've been close to the source back then. No communication for four hours is not a good sign.”

“Well, shit, Einstein, ya fucking think?!”

Negan’s smartass retort to Fat Joey was enough to rouse you from your sleep, though you kept your eyes closed as you registered Simon getting the discussion back on track.

“We’ve probably got another Alexandria situation, thinking they can kill us off and it’ll all be fine and dandy.”

“If that's the case, then another big show should put things right.” You weren't sure exactly what ‘big show’ Mason was referencing, though you could guess it would be something you'd rather be ignorant of.

“Taking that many men would leave the Sanctuary vulnerable. Luke’s crew are most likely walker chow at this point and taking the amount of men you're suggesting will leave this place virtually defenceless.” the obvious challenge in Simon’s voice would've been enough to show the shock on your face if you weren't being a sneaky little eavesdropper right then.

“I’ll stay behind. If so much as a scratch befalls the Sanctuary then Negan can take it out on me. Hell, he can demote me if he wants but nothing’s gonna happen. All of the communities are, for once, in line. And it’s not like we haven't left the Sanctuary like this before, we always come back to her. You need to relax Simon, the stress is showing on that pushbroom you call a ‘stache.”

“Alright, ladies, put the claws away. These pyro-fucking-maniacs clearly need to be shown who the big dicks are around these parts. Mason, you're in charge while we're gone. I want updates at the top of every hour through the long range talkies. I couldn't give two shits about anyone below this floor, but if I hear there was anyone up here that shouldn't be? Well, getting demoted will be the least of your fucking worries.”

The clear threat brought goosebumps to your skin. Through his charming grins and carefree attitude, it’s easy to forget the brutality that's contained within Negan, the savagery which establishes Negan’s position as leader of the Saviors.

“Right, get the fuck out of here. We leave in twenty.” waiting until the door was closed behind his men, you're slightly mortified to find Negan addressing you, running a gentle hand over your hair, “So, what should I do with sneaky little eavesdroppers?”

Opening your eyes, you find that you're still on the lounge, though now you're leaning heavily on Negan’s arm where you undoubtedly fell asleep. Feeling somewhat chastened, you smile sheepishly and mumbled an apology as you lift yourself off of him.

Negan’s signature smile tells you that there are no hard feelings, though you feel your heart drop to your stomach when his heartbreaking smile is quick to vanish, replaced by a more serious expression. Reaching for your hand, he gives it a light squeeze as he looks you straight in the eyes.

“You still have that knife I gave you?” at your nod, he asks, “you got it on you?”

“I left it in my backpack, I didn't think I’d be allow to carry it.”

“As soon as you get a chance, you're gonna go get it and come straight back up here. Don't let anyone see that you've got it.”

“I don't understand. You think something will happen while you're gone?” You figured Simon was just being paranoid, making sure all bases were covered, but Negan was really starting to scare you.

“No. But I’m not willing to take that chance. I wouldn't be where I am today if I disregarded shit like that.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful.” You watched him carefully as he relaxed at your words, before softly uttering, “Come back soon, yeah? This place feels a lot safer with you here, surprisingly, and you've got me all paranoid now.”

“Baby girl, I’ll be back before you fucking know it. I've still gotta make you mine.” There's that killer smile of his that manages to bring heat to your cheeks and make you try your hardest, and fail, to not smile back.

“If you had mentioned how good the food was up here back when you first proposed, you might be speaking to wife number six right now rather than just your secretary.”

“Oh, sweet girl, you're not just anything. You are so much fucking more.”

Before he could elaborate any further, a voice crackling through the walkie signaled that it was time for Negan and his men to leave.

After taking in your features for a few seconds more, Negan rose from his seat, grabbing his jacket and Lucille.

You watched in slight awe as he wore his cocksure leader personality in tandem with his jacket, gripping Lucille tight and heading for the door.

Throwing one last cheeky wink your way, you watched Negan leave to unquestionably bash in a couple of skulls, recruiting more worker bees in the process.

tagging: @neganisking @backseat-negan @jdms-network

#negan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan x you #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM #twd fanfiction #jdm fanfiction

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riverdaleroundup · 7 years

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Riverdale Roundup: Episode 2x03 “ The Watcher in the Woods”

Are you ready? ooohh ooohh ohh- I know you see me standing here-- okay i'm already off topic.

Okay so here I am. Fresh off watching the new episode of riverdale and I thought I would share my thoughts with you because my life is empty and I need something to fill my time. This is my creative outlet. Welcome to your tape? More like welcome to my blog.

Okay so we start this week's episode and Kevin is running in the woods like a thot looking for some good old gay lovin and he starts macking on this guy and i'm like who is that? Was that Dilton doiley? It kind of looked like him but a bitch is not sure. I mean what are the odds that the gun happy leader of riverdale’s finest boy scout troop is also a first rate closet case?

BANG BANG gun shots! Kevin runs over and Midge is like freaking the fuck out. Okay is it just me or does she kind of look like Carly Rae Jepsen in a bad wig? Praise the lord that Moose is alive. I was so sad when I thought he was dead. He's my guy. He shielded that crazy bitch from harm with his beautiful over sized body.

Now let's talk south side high: What the fuck is with this place? So there's security and metal detectors but the kid's can do straight up drugs in the hallway? I get that jingle jangle or whatever it's called basically just looks like pixie sticks but still. Also how convenient that there just happens to be a rival gang that no one has ever heard of before. Everyone was so damn concerned that the Serpents were doing all this evil shit around town but not one single person was like huh maybe it's this other gang that has strong ties to drugs and are in general just sketchy af. Also there's no wifi in the classrooms and no doors on the bathroom stalls? That sounds like my literally hell.

So this Toni Topaz gal is some artsy photographer how perfect for the revival of the red and black or the black and red or whatever it is. How convenient. People on Instagram are all like " omg she's going to break up bughead" and i'm like hmmmmm that sounds like it could be kind of true but also kind of fake. It just seems like such an obvious route to go with. Like oh wow Jughead is friends with a girl so clearly they’re going to fuck. It's TBD. But also like isn't she supposed to be sexually fluid or some shit like that? Like is she going to go after Betty? Who's to say?

Also Jughead just casually getting beat up by the other gang and then telling Betty that he crashed his motorcycle. Okay for one thing Jughead you are 15. You can't just drive around sans license. I get that your girlfriend's GBF's daddy is head bitch in charge of the riverdale police but still, your family is already in deep shit with the law. I mean i don't get how his mother wasn't charged with reckless abandonment for picking the child she liked better and fleeing the state. Also I feel like there is a clear distinction between the scraps you would get from from falling off your bike and the bruises you get from being beaten up by a rival gang member. Betty is no dumb bitch. Also why was Toni just casually in the trailer with them? Like are they all BFFs now? Are they going to adopt some other south side street rat and become the new core four?

On another note FREAKING CHARLES PERCY IS THE SOUTH SIDE HIGH ENGLISH TEACHER!!!!!!!!!! He faked his death at Seattle Grace Mercy West in order to move to whatever east coast state this is and work in an underprivileged high school? I like wasn't paying attention when he was first on the screen so I only heard his voice and i looked up and i was like omg that's one of those residents that died who I totes forgot about.

Also we finally see the return of pregnant Polly. Who delivers one of the most iconic lines of the episode " I am an unwed mother carrying my cousins babies. I am the poster child for sin" like it's so weird to hear her say her cousin. Like they acknowledge that its incest and that Polly and Jason are related but hearing her say that I was like YIKES! Also she " called the farm" how fake does that sound? Like what kind of farm just operates as a wayward home for pregnant runaways? No farm Iwant to go to that's for sure.

Okay back to my boy Moose for a hot second. I love him. I love him so much. And he LOVES Kevin and i'm like Kevin be with him. Kevin you don't need to go sulking in the woods for a hook up. Moose is right there in all his bi sexual closeted cuteness asking you to love him. When he was like " you can come back and we could like hang out and like talk" and i'm like go to him Kevin.

Next subject on the docket is Veronica and her Daddy. Someone needs to keep a count of how many times she says Daddy in a single episode. I'm sure by the end of the season the number will be well into the thousands. Okay so she wants to have her friends over to watch " the matchlorette" like okay CW why don't you buy the rights to say normal words. This is a popular ass show I know you have the money.

" Matchlorette"

"American Excess"

" Vanity Flare"

WE SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU WRITERS! YOU'RE NOT CLEVER.

So Daddy gives baby 15 year old Archie some fancy ass Rum and is like fight this killer with violence. What's your MO Mark? Also i H8 Hermione so much right now. She's such a Psycho and not in a hot way. Also Veronica drinking a mimosa at breakfast like it's nothing. You are 15! Which is basically 14 which is basically 12. Shut up you're like 12. So Veronica is going to join the shady ass family business and get her hands dirty. Like okay V. Lets see how that goes.

Okay so like does Alice has her finger on the pulse of riverdale current events? The killer is so hip to the town that he's like i'll send her this creepy letter and all my evidence knowing that she's such a stone cold bish that she'll publish it no matter what Sheriff Keller or the Mayor says.

J'adore how Cheryl was being so very me and just eavesdropping on all of Betty and Kevin's conversations. Then she was just like " I'm here to fuck shit up" and stands by smiling while watching their friendship burn in front of her. Also her comment about dark betty was iconic.

Okay now the meat and potatoes. The red circle? Really Archie? We get it you have red hair. When they were all shirtless at end with the red hoods I was like okay wow this is happening. Also how very Liam Neeson was that ending part when he got really close to the camera and was like " we will find you and we will end you" and I was like Archie you are 15. I don't know how I feel about the new Reggie yet. He's very active in these episodes now. Okay also what was that BS with Ethel and the van? Was she just being a paranoid bish? For one when there's a murderer on the loose don't walk alone at night. Two: black hood is after sinners and Ethel seems like she goes to church on sundays and has never even said the word shit. She wears headbands with bows on them for Christ sake.

Catch my thoughts next Thursday,

#riverdale #the cw #the cw riverdale #bughead #betty cooper #veronica lodge #archie andrews #jughead jones #jughead #varchie #betty x jughead #veronica x archie #cheryl blossom #toni topaz

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pebble-xo · 7 years

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The Secret (12)

prologue; part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine; part ten; part eleven; part twelve; part thirteen; epilogue.

Baekhyun had gathered all of his members in the living room first thing in the morning before anyone left for schedules. They had probably all read the article by now but none of them mentioned it as he knocked on each of their doors and asked them into the main room. He hadn’t exactly planned what to say. Maybe he should have. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so nervous if he had figured out how he wanted to explain this new part of his life to his brothers.

Still here he was, with eight faces staring up at him in anticipation, about to tell them about the new people in his life that he would happily take a bullet for.

“The suspense of this meeting is killing so I’m just going to come right out and say it,” he started, locking his hands behind his back and rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet. “I have a daughter.”

It was clear that they hadn’t immediately trusted the article, all of their mouths falling open in shock. Usually Baekhyun would have made a joke about the stupid looks on their faces but for the first time, he didn’t feel like joking around. Instead he waited for them to get over the initial shock before he said anything more.

Junmyeon was the first to recover, scooping his jaw up from the floor and clapping his hands together in his lap. “H-how?” he stammered quietly. “W-when did this happen?”

Taking a deep breath, Baekhyun launched into his explanation. He told them everything, all about you and your friendship and how close the pair of you were throughout school. As he spoke, his brothers were quiet and patient, listening to Baekhyun’s explanation with eagerness. “I left to become a trainee before she could tell me that she was pregnant. While I was here in Seoul, she was back at home raising our daughter alone,” he continued, wistfully thinking of all the years and memories he had missed. Now he had both you and Zoe in his life again, he was determined to make up for lost time.

“Recently she moved to Seoul for a new job and I met her by chance. Later she introduced me to her daughter Zoe, who happened to be my daughter too,” he told them, pinching his lips together and waiting for their inevitable questions.

Jongin leaned forward and pushed his glasses up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “Do you mean the girl from the concert was your daughter?” he asked with a confused look on his face. He was probably trying to remember his only interaction with Zoe.

Baekhyun nodded, explaining that he didn’t know she was at the time.

“Are you sure?” Kyungsoo questioned, an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you sure this girl is yours?”

Running a nervous hand through his messy hair, Baekhyun sighed heavily. “If you asking me if I’ve had a DNA test then no, but I know she is mine. I trust Zoe’s mother and I know she wouldn’t lie, not about this. Zoe is my daughter, I know it in my bones,” he insisted. Out of everyone, he wanted his brothers to understand the most. They were his family too and he wanted them to accept Zoe as if they really were her uncles.

There was an awkward moment of silence where everyone just absorbed all of the information. The silence was deafening for Baekhyun but he remained quiet. Everything about this situation was delicate, especially now that the public.

“Well I think this is amazing,” Sehun exclaimed brightly, jumping up off the sofa and hurrying over to Baekhyun to give him a short hug with a hard slap on his back. “I always thought Jongdae would be the first one to get someone pregnant,” he muttered teasingly, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“Hey! I heard that Sehun!” Jongdae shouted, throwing a cushion at the tall boy who poked his tongue out at him.

Yixing shuffled off the sofa and wrapped his arms around Baekhyun. “This girl is very lucky to have you as her father,” he complimented, beaming a little smile before he checked his watch and left for the stairs.

“So when do we get to meet her officially?” Minseok asked over the low hum of noise that had erupted.

Chanyeol perked up too. “Does this mean she’s like our niece?” he called out.

Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile. He had hoped that his brothers would have been happy for him but to see their own excitement, it warmed his heart. He knew that they were all going to love Zoe just like he did.

Junmyeon left the sofa and pulled Baekhyun off the corner. “Is this why you’ve been so distracted lately?” he asked, smiling when Baekhyun nodded. “I’m so happy for you, but this isn’t just about you now.” Trust Junmyeon to be the serious one. “The public know about your family too and they are about to be thrust into a life that we are used to but they aren’t. How does Zoe’s mother feel about all this?”

As if on cue, Baekhyun’s phone started to ring out muffled from inside Baekhyun’s pockets. “I’m about to find out,” he replied, patting Junmyeon on the shoulder and leaving to find a quiet spot to answer your call.

“Hello?”

Immediately your frantic voice sounded through the phone. “Everyone knows Baekhyun!” you said shakily, followed by some sniffles and hiccupping. It sounded to Baekhyun like you were crying and it only made his heart ache more that he wasn’t there to comfort you through all this. “There are photos of the three of us – at the restaurant, outside her ballet class, even outside my apartment Saturday night when you carried Zoe in! Baekhyun, they know where I live!”

At this point, you were bordering on hysterical and Baekhyun was starting to panic too. “Ok deep breaths! I don’t know how they got the photos but I will handle this,” he assured you, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m just about to go to the agency and talk to the legal team.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Hide out in the apartment?” you managed to get out between sobs, audibly trying to get a hold on your emotions.

Baekhyun wished he was there with you, to curl you up against his body and tell you everything was alright. “Honey, just act like nothing is happening. Take Zoe to school. Go to work. I will sort everything out and then call you tonight,” he tried to reassure you as best as he could through the phone.

There was a pause, followed by a lot of snivelling. “How did this happen?” you murmured softly, sounding less panicked and more saddened.

“I don’t know honey but I will sort it out. You and Zoe are a part of my life and nothing is going to change that. The public will just have to understand,” he told you, feeling his heart ache with a longing to be with you. If anything came out of situation, he hoped that it would bring you and him closer together.

“I hope they do,” you replied with a long sigh. “I need to get to Zoe ready for school but please ring me tonight!” The pleading in your voice broke Baekhyun’s heart. Him being a singer and a member of EXO was hurting his family and it hurt him too.

“Of course,” he answered quickly, waiting for you to hang up before he pulled the phone away from his ear. Sliding down the wall to the floor, he buried his face in his hands and pushed his fingers into his hair. Already he felt exhausted and the day had barely begun.

But then he remembered the weekend, watching you and Zoe playing in the long grass on the hill. The smiles on your face and Zoe’s laughter echoing in the wind: those were the things he wanted to protect. Your happiness was the most important thing to him.

The battle was just beginning and Baekhyun was prepared to fight … for his family.

###

If you had to describe your day in one word, it would be crap.

Complete and utter crap!

In the morning after your phone call with Baekhyun, there were a crowd of reporters waiting to catch a glimpse of you and Zoe as you left to take your daughter to school. Your first response was to panic, to run back up to your apartment and hide under the comfort of your warm duvet and hibernate until this whole thing was over. But then you saw Zoe’s worried and confused little face and knew she was picking up on your fear.

So you just picked her up and told her to hide her face in your hair while you made a quick dash for your car. As soon as you left your apartment building, you were hounded by the reporters, all of them directing cameras in your face and bombarding you with questions. Some of them were horrible too: asking if you were Baekhyun’s secret lover, if you had done a DNA test, if you were using him for money. Keeping your head down, you did your best to ignore the harassment and not show any reaction, focusing instead on getting Zoe into the car and buckling her in safely.

A little paranoid, you took the long route to the school, just in case anybody had followed. You parked as close to the school as you could and walked Zoe directly into her classroom. Her teacher pulled you aside to discuss the article and how much of it Zoe was aware of, which was none of it and that’s how you wanted it to stay. You left for work with assurance from her teacher that she would keep all this drama out of her classroom.

Not that work was any easier. There were no reporters hounding you outside your office but it felt like everyone in the building had read the article and knew you were involved with EXO’s Baekhyun. Some were upfront, coming to your cubicle while you were sketching and asking directly while others were snide and gossiped when they didn’t think you were listening. For the most part of the day, you simply blasted your iPod to block out the world and tried to distract yourself with sketching.

By the time you collected Zoe from her afterschool club and got her back to the safety of your apartment, you were exhausted. You had a mountain of housework to do with absolutely no energy to do it. Instead you and Zoe had cereal for dinner and curled up on the sofa to watch cartoons.

Slowly the day’s trauma seeped out of your body, leaving you only weary and tired. Zoe was your only shining light. Her happiness was the only thing that mattered. Her smile was the only thing you cared about. All you wanted to do was keep her safe and full of love and joy. That was not about to change because of a stupid article about a situation they had no understanding of.

When you were tucking Zoe into bed that night, she squeezed Mr Snuggles extra tight and poked her face out from behind the blankets. “Things will be ok Mummy,” she told you suddenly, reaching out a tiny hand and cupping your cheek with it softly. Since when did she become so perceptive?

You sighed softly and lowered your lips to kiss the middle of her brow. “Of course they will little one,” you whispered back, worrying that if you spoke any louder that your daughter would be able to hear the uncertainty in your voice.

“I love you Mummy,” she whispered softly, holding up Mr Snuggles with a big smile on her face. “Mr Snuggles loves you too!”

Trust your daughter to always get you smiling.

“I love you and Mr Snuggles too,” you replied softly, kissing her again and then pressing your lips to her teddy bear too. “Sleep tight little one,” you murmured, switching off her bedside lamp so her nightlight was the only source of dim illumination. Then you slowly backed out of her room, watching your daughter’s eyes flutter shut as you closed her bedroom behind you.

To distract yourself from all the stress you felt on your shoulders, you cuddled up on the sofa in your fluffiest blanket and decided to finish the sketch you had started on the hill a couple of days ago. If you closed your eyes, you could still picture the colours as if you were still on the hill. Easily enough, you lost yourself in the fields of green, colouring the scene that was etched in your mind so it could be eternalised on paper.

As you were finishing up the shading on the trees, your ringtone peeled through your quiet living room. Scrambling out of your blanket cocoon, you reached for your phone and smiled at Baekhyun’s name appearing on the screen. “Hello?” you said softly, wrapping your arms up around your knees and placing your chin on top.

“Hey honey,” Baekhyun replied gently down the phone, his melodious voice like honey for your ears. He sounded exhausted too, the weariness audible in his voice. “How has today been for you?”

You sighed wearily to yourself, raking a hand through your hair. “It’s been horrible,” you grumbled, running through the day’s events with Baekhyun, from the reporters to the gossiping at work, to even Zoe being able to pick up on everything. “Please tell me there is something you can do Baekhyun. I can’t live like this and Zoe doesn’t deserve to either,” you told him, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

It was Baekhyun’s turn to sigh and you knew it wasn’t good. “I spent the day talking to the legal team all day. Because the photos were taken in public places and you can’t see Zoe’s face in any of the images, there’s nothing illegal about them,” he explained, sounding regretful.

Meanwhile you were starting to panic again. “Baekhyun they know where we live. I can’t deal with reporters hounding me every time I take Zoe to school or I go to the shops. What if this doesn’t die down? Do you expect your daughter to hide her face forever?” she snapped back quickly, barely taking a breath as you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Of course not,” he instantly replied. “I’ve already thought about that and I think you should move apartments,” he told you, his words freezing you on the spot.

It was a definite water-spitting moment. Move? Immediately the idea didn’t sit right with you. Was that not just admitting that they had won? You had only just moved into this apartment and now he wanted you to move? Was this so he could hide you away before you tarnished anymore of his public image? Your mind was racing a mile a minute, arguing and counter-arguing yourself before you had even uttered a single word.

For a second he paused too and let the words sink in before he continued. “I found somewhere that’s closer to my place, closer to Zoe’s school, closer to your work and it’s in a private neighbourhood with security so any press in the area are technically trespassing and can be arrested,” he told you slowly. You could tell he was trying not to overload you with information. He knew that you didn’t function well when people explained things too fast.

Leaning back on the sofa, you hugged the blankets closer to your body, feeling colder for no real reason. “Baekhyun I could barely afford this apartment. What makes you think I could afford somewhere closer to the city with the extra cost of being in a secured neighbourhood?” you retorted, all of your panic and anger gone so only exhaustion was left. “Maybe I should quit my job and move back home?” you thought out loud. Out of all the options on the table, it seemed like the best.

“You can’t take my daughter away from me!” Baekhyun snapped loudly down the phone, jolting you with shock at how aggressive he sounded. “I won’t let you move away so I only get to see her less than ten times a year. It’s not fair!”

You didn’t have the headspace for all this drama. “I don’t want to take Zoe away from you either Baekhyun but I have to put her first and if her safety and her happiness are better when we don’t live in Seoul, then I have to consider it!” you argued, trying to control the volume of your voice so you didn’t wake Zoe up.

“I will buy the apartment,” he quickly declared without a moment of hesitation.

You balked a little in disbelief. “What?” you stammered.

“I will put down the deposit and make the payments for you,” he explained, sounding completely serious.

Your mouth fell open in shock at Baekhyun’s proposal. “Baekhyun I can’t ask you to do something like that,” you insisted as soon as you recovered from the shock enough to speak. “It’s too much of a commitment for me to ask that of you.” Already you were shaking your head. There had to be an alternative option to this – like maybe moving a little bit further out of the city. You didn’t want to have to rely on Baekhyun like that.

He responded almost instantly. “I would happily do anything that keeps you and Zoe as safe as you can be in this mess I created. I’ve already missed five years of her life and I don’t think I could bear to lose any more time with her. Or with you. If paying for this apartment keeps you both in my life, then I will gladly pay any amount of money,” he told you sweetly, making your heart swell with love for him.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking with emotion. “Let me do this for you and Zoe. I just want to protect my family.”

Too much was swirling around your head, too many thoughts racing through before you managed to make sense of any of them. You needed time to think about everything so you could decide what the best thing for your daughter. She was the most important part, everything else came second. “I need time to figure this all out, Baekhyun,” you told him. You were way too tired to function properly and sleep was calling you.

“Take all the time you need. Just please come and see the apartment on Friday?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, wishing him goodnight and moving the phone away.

Before you hung up, you heard Baekhyun call out your name. Sighing tiredly, you held the phone back up to your ear to hear what he had to say. “I love you,” he murmured softly, a hint of sadness in his voice that made your heart ache. “I always have.”

You gulped hard and hung up, dropping the phone into your lap and threw your head back in exhaustion. “I love you too,” you whispered, closing your eyes and imagining a life where you, Baekhyun and Zoe could live happily together.

Was life supposed to be so hard or was this just karma biting you in the ass for keeping Zoe a secret for so long?

[masterlist]

#exo #exo k #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo reaction #exo scenario #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #exo angst #exo baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #daddy baek #the secret

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highqueenofprydain · 7 years

Text

Opening Doors

"This sword I forged in the workshop of Hevydd the Smith."

Armed with her bauble's warm, familiar light, untroubled with the moody unpredictability of the torch Gurgi carried, Eilonwy found it first.

Lying askew amidst the heap of weaponry Magg's guards had dumped in Smoit's armory, it glinted dimly, drew her eye. Taran's sword. She picked it up and studied it, ignoring an odd sensation that she was spying on him by doing so, and laid it aside, separating it from the other weapons stripped from the companions. She and Gurgi, tasked with their recovery, left the gear in a neatly organized pile in the chilly sunlit courtyard of Caer Cadarn where their owners might find them. But Taran's sword…she hesitated, weighing doubt against shrewdness, mixed with something that felt uncomfortably manipulative. Finally she tucked it under her arm and went in search of him.

Manipulative or not. At least he couldn't avoid her if he wanted his sword.

Avoid…it wasn't quite the right word, was it? Crossing the courtyard, she kicked savagely at an inoffensive pebble and listened to its satisfying scuttling retreat across the flagstones. Avoiding was something you did, like hiding behind walls, not something you didn't do, like not speaking to someone or…for goodness' sake, not even looking at someone more than you could help it. And not acting like yourself, or even the self you were two years ago if you couldn't manage more. She had spent that two years, after their parting on Mona, expecting…well, much, upon their reunion; certainly not to be standing forlorn before a guarded, locked-up gate where an open door should have been.

She was sure it had not been his intention, either – at least if his eagerness upon their meeting again at Caer Dallben had been any indication. The glow in his face, the joy in his voice…the question bursting behind his eyes. She had even thought, alarmed, that he was going to ask it right there, in the cottage in front of everyone, and had begun a frantic mental hunt for an excuse to pull him outside when the door had burst open.

And with one door flinging wide upon a wounded prince, every other had apparently slammed shut. She hadn't realized it at first – too many other, more urgent predicaments had presented themselves at the time, and it was hardly the moment to lament over lost romantic opportunities. Then again, she thought, twisting her mouth wryly, perhaps the possible impending End of Everything was exactly the right time to mourn certain things left unspoken, undone. Nevertheless, she could not begrudge him his silence in that regard, had it not spilled over into every other. Day by day his distance had dawned on her, distance even in the everyday, practical details that shouldn't have held any significance at all. Finally she could no longer shrug it off as the paranoid product of unfulfilled imaginings, and was forced to admit that since the journey had begun he had scarcely spoken a dozen words to her, and rarely met her eyes. That, Eilonwy decided, her mouth set in a grim, thin line, was something she would no longer stand.

Though what exactly she was going to do about it was taking its time coming to her.

She found him in the stables, currying Melynlas, blessedly alone. The horse whickered a quiet welcome, and Taran turned his head; his smile, when he saw her, hitched and wavered uncertainly. She winced, acutely aware that it was their first moment alone together since reuniting, and smarting that his reaction to it should be so lukewarm.

There was a pregnant moment while he looked at her and said nothing, then with steady deliberation traded his currycomb for a brush and resumed attentions to Melynlas. Because his eyes resolutely followed his hands, she found that hers did as well, sliding along the planes and valleys of the horse's muscular shoulders, curving over haunches, dipping into hollows. Black earth, reminders of Rhun's recent internment, still lined his fingernails. The sound of the brush, softly rough like the stroking of velvet against the nap, whispered a hypnotic rhythm against the silence.

It made her want to scream. She hated his silence. It seemed crammed full of all the things neither of them were saying, beating against her like caged birds flailing their wings against the bars. Moreover she hated how helpless she felt against it; she had never felt so, with him, before, and to flounder about now – now when there were actually things worth saying – Llyr, it was maddening. Like picking up your favorite book, and finding you'd forgotten how to read.

"I found this in the armory," she said, and was immediately irritated at the loudness, the brassiness of her own voice breaking the stillness like an alarm bell. She held up the sheathed weapon. In the dim stable his eyes sparked. "My sword."

Something like jealousy curled in her gut at his use of the possessive, and she impulsively moved the sword away from his outstretched hand. "Ah, it is yours, then. I was almost sure, but I never got a proper look at it." Stepping into a large square patch of light slanting from the open door, she drew the blade in a swift motion, conscious that he had left Melynlas's side to step toward her. "You made it yourself, I think you said?"

"I did," he affirmed quietly, and she prickled at the world behind his words, so alien to her. Tell me. You would have done it, years ago; you'd have talked about making a sword until I wanted to pitch it into the nearest river. Why won't you tell me now? She felt his eyes on her, and cleared her throat, trying to draw the moment out, to come up with something relevant. "It's…ah…well, it's…"

His sudden laugh broke like a burst of sunlight into shadow. "Go ahead, you can say it. It's hideous." A weight, as of a mass of ice, slid from her shoulders at the warmth in his voice, and she looked up to see him wearing the kind of expression he had been wont to wear – before. Humor, affection, and wry self-deprecation, and so utterly him as she remembered that she nearly dropped the sword in a wild impulse to throw her arms around him, to make sure this breach in his invisible wall stayed gaping open.

"I wasn't going to say that at all," she protested, face warming, failing to hold back a smile. "It is, perhaps, not the most elegant weapon ever seen, but…" She held it parallel to the ground, bounced it experimentally on two fingers. "The balance is good. The edge is true. I'm no expert, but it feels like a good blade." She grasped the pommel, and swung the blade in a slow arc, watching the wan light gleam on its edge. "It's a bit odd, when you think of it, that we call any swords beautiful, considering what they're for. But after all, there are plenty of handsome things in the world that turn out to be weak and useless on the inside. Perhaps it's best for a sword to be the other way 'round."

His eyes met hers openly for the first time in days, and his mouth took on a vague, rusty form of the teasing smirk she adored. "Did they teach you that kind of diplomacy on Mona?"

"Pssh." She grinned. "Diplomacy is when you say what you don't mean to appease people you can't defeat, and I'm terrible at it. No, that was truth worthy of Dallben. I shouldn't be surprised if there's a line in the Book of Three about it somewhere." The blade slid back into the scabbard, and she flipped it around and held it out to him, hilt-first. "But I still don't understand why you needed a new one. What happened to your old, the one Dallben gave you?"

The one I girded on you? She did not speak the thought, but his eyes caught hers knowingly, and she remembered his face, glowing and flushed with boyish pride, that day in the scullery. He was so different now, she thought wistfully; so unfathomably more, and she had loved him even then.

Taran took the sword from her, a shadow crossing his face, his posture suddenly stiff. "It was…taken from me," he muttered, "in a forced duel in which I had no wish to participate." He seemed to struggle for a moment before continuing. "The less said about the villain involved the better – to speak his name is more honor than he deserves." She watched his fingers tighten around the pommel, and her own hands twitched in an aching impulse to cover his, caress the tension out of them, even as hot indignation toward the unknown antagonist flamed in her chest. An irrational yet vivid wish to meet him herself and enact some sort of justice crossed fleetingly through her mind.

Taran looked up at her, clear-eyed. "Yet when I met him again, it was this-" he held up his self-made weapon, "that saved my life." She sensed rather than saw the change in his bearing; the strength, the straightness. "He attacked me with my old sword, and it shattered against the new."

Shattered. Eilonwy sucked in a quick, cold breath as the word struck; she felt it in the soles of her feet, in the base of her spine, with such icy clarity that for an instant she saw shards glittering, scattering, arcing away through empty air. Of course, that was the word; that was what she felt; her image of the boy he had been, all his impetuosity and bravado and well-meant blundering - gone, shattered against the stark reality of who he now was. No wonder she floundered; his very familiarity mocked her; it was no more than a memory, a thin veneer over a mystery she could not fathom. It left her hollow, hungry, impatient; the memory had sustained her but it was empty now, now that the man stood before her and would not let her in. She wished suddenly that she hadn't returned his sword; it seemed the one thing about him she had, briefly, possessed.

She felt the child in her wanting to shout, to shake him, to berate and storm and do all the things she would have done years ago in an attempt to provoke a reaction – any reaction, so long as it broke through his reserve. But she had changed, too, and was wise enough to know the futility of that route, yet not enough to know what to do instead, apparently. Here she'd come to press him into speaking with her and she found herself with nothing to say – or perhaps, too much, too brimful of simmering longing and frustration to let words spill over, lest the resultant eruption drive him further away.

Wildly she thought she might be about to burst into tears; Belin, not that, not now, please…better to leave with some shred of dignity. Now it was she who could not meet his eyes, but cleared her throat, said "well, then…" in a hollow voice, and turned to the stable door.

"Eilonwy."

It brought her up short with her hand on the doorpost; when was the last time he'd said her name? She didn't remember…nor did she remember that the sound of it had left her breathless before. Her fingers tapped nervously at the rough wood as she struggled with herself and gave up; fear of what he might see in her face kept her from turning. She willed him silently to continue. Speak. Just keep talking so I can keep breathing.

"There is…" a breath, measured. "There is something that doesn't quite satisfy me about this sword."

Curiosity broke the spell; she faced him, mystified and wary. He was holding the sword in both hands, parallel to the ground, like a sacrifice. His gaze upon it was fond, almost wistful, and he shifted it at slight angles, watching the light play on the scabbard. "You see, I never had it properly girded on." His eyes met hers then, green fire blazing beneath black brows, and a rush of warm comprehension broke upon her.

Here was an open door indeed, and yet, damnable irony, she hesitated to walk through it; why did it feel so much like surrender? Heart pounding, she retreated instinctively, searching for the security of the banter that was familiar territory. "Hmph. Were there no young ladies in the Commots? I seem to recall someone once implying that one was as good as another."

Taran cocked his head at her shrewdly. "I never said that, though I'm sure what I did say was just as foolish. And yes, there were plenty of young ladies in the Commots." At her sudden, involuntary frown he grinned, and she realized she'd just given him a perfect target.

"Taran of Caer-" She swallowed the rest, whirled around on her heel; ostensibly in annoyance but really to give herself a moment to reign in a burst of unbridled happiness so intense it threatened to pulverize her self-possession into dust. He was teasing her; nettling her deliberately in a way he had not done since before Mona, and she wanted to sing with the joy of it.

"It's not done this way, you know," she chided, turning back on him with dancing eyes. "You've already been wearing that sword for months. I learned the ceremony at Dinas Rhydnant, but I also learned all the rules involved. And it wouldn't be proper to do it now."

He quirked an eloquent eyebrow upwards. "Hm. You care about propriety, do you? Mona has changed you more than I thought."

She bristled; this really was annoying, the dare in it less so than the realization that he instinctively knew the right words to disarm her. How dare he be so mysterious himself and then see right through her?

For a long moment she faced him, gaze level, a trifle irritated, until she realized that all trace of jest had disappeared from his face. In its place was an intense expression she had seen once before, and for a moment she smelled salty air, heard the crash of surf, felt the blood rush warm to her face and the breath swell heavy in her chest. It was an expression she had dreamed of often in the intervening years, though there was more in it now: the wisdom of experience, the refinement of suffering, the joy of hope renewed, the frustration of dreams deferred – yet at its core it was still a yearning, waiting question, one that now, as then, everything in her rose up to answer, to assure.

She stepped forward, closed the gap between them, took the sword from his hands. His fingers grazed her wrists in passing; she glanced at the battered battle horn that hung from his waist, remembering.

The blade rang from the scabbard again, and she held its naked edge up before her, stark in the space between them. Focusing on his face glowing behind it, she pulled the words from the recesses of memory.

"A warrior's sword is his constant companion."

She shut her eyes, reliving tapestry-hung halls lit with smoking torches, the smell of stone floors, the bright colors of regal raiment. Opened them upon a stable in various shades of gray, dust motes glittering in the sunlight, Taran's face before her, and thought it more noble than any of the faces of Mona's court.

"With it, he guards his life, his king, his country."

She saw the same face, years previous, grimy from the dirt of Achren's dungeons, white with grief at the supposed death of Gwydion, yet set and determined as he declared his intention to travel to Caer Dathyl and warn the Sons of Don of the coming attack.

"Wielded with valor, it brings honor in battle, justice to the wicked, and vengeance to the traitorous."

His face again, etched with terror as he threw himself between her and a giant, horn-crested shadow; wracked with pained resignation as he agreed to Ellidyr's self-serving demands; blazing with helpless fury as Magg leered from the shadows of Caer Colur.

"Wielded with wisdom, it brings liberation to the oppressed, protection to the weak, and fulfillment in the service of others."

The same face, weeping openly as he cradled the head of the dying Adaon; lingering regretfully over an iron brooch before it disappeared into an old crone's gnarled fingers; glowing radiant in the light of the Peledryn as it woke her from a walking nightmare.

"I charge you to be thus; a warrior worthy of his sword."

It occurred to her, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, that he had already fulfilled most of the charge without using a sword at all, and she thought not many could make such a claim.

The flourish of the blade as she saluted him came at the expense of an hour of Teleria's longsuffering instruction, but the kiss she placed upon the hilt needed no prompting. Deftly she sheathed the blade again, gathered the belt in her hands and looked at him expectantly.

When he did not move she cleared her throat. "Raise your arms."

Taran blinked, as though shaking off a dream, and raised them. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaned in, willing her hands not to tremble. He was slim, but it still took the full span of her arms encircling his waist to find the end of the belt, and for a moment she was surrounded by the earth-and-woodsmoke smell of him, his warmth, his solidity. His chin brushed the hair at her temple, and her fingers, abruptly clumsy, fumbled and almost dropped the belt.

"I thought you said all those things didn't apply to Assistant Pig-Keepers," he murmured, his breath feathering on her cheek like the brush of a butterfly wing. She breathed in once, slowly and deliberately, and leaned back from him, with a sensation a little like relief, to fasten the buckle. "I suppose I'm as guilty of speaking foolishness as you, then. But in any case, I think you are more than that now."

Finished, she straightened, looked him in the face. His arms lowered; his hands caught hers and curled them to his chest, and her own pulse throbbed audibly in her ears. "If you believe that," he whispered, "then I will try to become so."

"But you don't have to try," she answered, laying her palms flat against the thick wool of his jacket, as though to push the words into his heart where he would believe them. "You already are; I can feel that much, but I don't…I don't know yet how much. You're like…like that sword, all plain and rough on the outside, but worth more than a thousand more refined underneath." Frustrated at the insufficiency of words, she dropped her forehead to his chest, staring unseeingly at his feet, searching inward for the right thought. Once again the faint scent of woodsmoke rose around her - applewood; they always burned apple at Caer Dallben when they could…

Without warning she pushed herself upright, realizing with regret that the arms he had just begun to curve around her shoulders fell away in the process. That could wait, however; she had to make him understand. "Do you remember what I told you, about climbing the apple trees? How every year they are new, and you have to learn them all over again?"

A fond, reminiscent smile curled the corners of his mouth, drawing her eyes, irresistible; she swallowed hard and continued. "You're like that, all made over and grown new, and I…have to learn you again." She pushed at him slightly for emphasis. "And you haven't been making it easy."

Taran's eyes clouded; she felt the swell of his chest as he sighed, "Eilonwy," and was silent for a long moment, until she thought he was not going to speak again. Then – "I have no wish to cause you pain." He spoke earnestly; his hands gripped her shoulders, compelling her to listen. "If I have been distant, it has been to spare you my own…worries, my uncertainties. I can..." he paused again, took a breath. "I can make you no promises, and it seemed better to speak little than to say that which might bring false hope, or…disappointment. Perhaps I have been mistaken." There was self-doubt in his face; anxiety, but a wan smile broke through it. "You may think me more now, but where you are concerned, I fear I am still a dense and blundering Assistant Pig-Keeper."

She laughed, and pressed a fingertip to that alluring corner of his mouth. "Well, at least that gives me a familiar place to start."

Eyes kindling, he snatched her hand, pulled her into his embrace. She thought swiftly of Mona beach, colliding noses and the salt on his lips, the fluttering awkward sweetness of it, but no…this had changed, too; now it was a mingling, melting away into crimson and gold, blood and fire…and it's about time, she laughed to herself, silently, but he felt it in the changed shape of her mouth, and broke away to look at her, his breath broken against her face. "What is it?"

She sighed, and settled herself more securely within the circle of his arms. "Just…when you do decide to communicate, you're remarkably eloquent. For an Assistant Pig-Keeper."

He threw his head back in a real, honest laugh, the first she had heard from him since the journey had begun. A sounding of the bell from the guard tower interrupted him; she counted the peals and frowned. "Bother! That's a summons for the whole castle. Smoit must have an announcement."

His arms tightened one last time and released her with obvious reluctance; the air felt colder when he stepped away and she wrapped her own arms around herself; but she was warmed within, and her smile was content. Missing her at the stable door, he turned, and she studied his profile, the tall, straight shape of him, dark against the light. He cleared his throat. "Aren't you coming?"

"Yes. I was just thinking," she explained, "how much that sword suits you."

He glanced down at the blade hanging anew at his side, and rested his hand comfortably on the pommel, as on the shoulder of an old friend. "You were right, you know. We are alike, it and I," he observed. "Only now, it lacks nothing, and I…" he raised meaningful eyes to her, worlds behind them. "I am still waiting."

Taran held out his hand; she took it, and stepped with him through the open door.

#prydain #fanfiction #taran #Eilonwy #taran/eilonwy #otp #fanfic #thehighking #lloydalexander #chroniclesofprydain #romance #fluff

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

Video

youtube

SELENA GOMEZ - BAD LIAR [7.29] Qu'est-ce que c'est?

Claire Biddles: That borrowed Talking Heads bassline works so well in the context of contemporary pop that I'm amazed it hasn't been used before. In "Bad Liar," the paranoid creeping of "Psycho Killer" is twisted into coquettish flirting, but I wish the excellent tentative almost-spoken verse built up to a recognisable hook or chorus, rather than an empty punchline. Still, this is sexy and fun, and I'll probably play it tonnes over the summer. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: Given that Top 40 radio is a nonstop supercut of variations on tropical hell, one cherishes the novelties that make it through. Like, Bruno Mars is reliable; no matter what R&B corpse he re-animates how shamelessly, it will sound like nothing playlisted before or after it. And as ludicrous as Harry Styles' Mick Jagger cosplay is, at least it, too, sounds like nothing on the radio. But who would have thought Selena Gomez would be an outlier? The Talking Heads sample is great, but predictably so. What makes "Bad Liar" is how unpredictable its referents are. Much -- too much, given her prior work -- has been made of Selena Gomez's supposed vocal limitations, but her delivery's perfect for "Bad Liar"'s introvert in a feedback loop of shame-crush, latching onto the closest brilliant bassline for borrowed confidence; the effect's a little like Christine and the Queens. The verses evoke the twitterpated word-vomit of Maria Mena's "You're the Only One," which also felt like a sugarcube dropped into pop radio. With stream-of-consciousness like that you get Trojan clunkers, but you also get perfection like "if you want you can rent that place, call me an amenity, even if it's in my dreams," a whiplash from coyness to self-loathing to wishful thinking much like Transister's similarly obsessive "Head." It's the greatest Carly Rae Jepsen single Carly Rae Jepsen is too far gone maximalist to ever release; it's a damn good thing for my hopes of having listened to anything else that this didn't come out in [SPECIFIC MONTHS LOST TO CRUSH REDACTED]. [9]

Ryo Miyauchi: "Bad Liar" sounds like "Hands to Myself" turned inside out with the awkward insert of "I mean I could but why would I want to?" of the latter as the former's main form of delivery. Her clunky speech makes more sense narrative-wise in this flustered pop where she's way too occupied to keep beat. Perhaps she's taking cue of Talking Heads' nervous stiffness as much as their bass line. [5]

Maxwell Cavaseno: There's nothing in particular about "Bad Liar" to pinpoint about why it feels just so weird. Yes, there's the crisp and spartan production which does bear a certain resemblance to the beat and brittle quality of "Psycho Killer". You also have Gomez's conversational mumble of a murmur, vocal tone sounding like the rubber stopper on cheap chairs squeaking against linoleum floors (in a good way), occasionally processed into dazed vocal space-outs. It's got a slackness despite all of the rhythmic tension that refuses to either become purely laconic or tight, and with that weird sort of in-between you've got something that truly doesn't resemble anything you'd expect to hear nowadays. [7]

Thomas Inskeep: Best vocal of her career. Best single of her career. Best song of her career. And certainly the most surprising: I might not've caught the bassline sample unless I'd already read about it. Gomez is big enough now that she could've gone down any "one size fits all" route with a new single and been rewarded with a summertime smash. But instead, to her credit, she swerved where it wasn't expected. This is jagged pop, underproduced in the best way, and basically a success across the board. Which might be the most surprising thing of all. [8]

Ramzi Awn: The most impressive thing about "Bad Liar" is that Selena Gomez now has a brand. A perfectly good ear worm cloying enough to justify its crush, the single was the top streamer on Spotify upon its release, and it's easy to hear why. Ms. Gomez, a co-writer of the song, is carrying a mature career on her shoulders, and "Bad Liar" helps to establish her as a true contender in the business of making music. Featuring Ian Kirkpatrick, who wrote and produced one of Britney Spears' strongest songs of late ("If I'm Dancing" off the recent Glory), her vocals are on point, and the song is made for earbuds on the beach. [9]

William John: Selena Gomez' vocals are often criticised for their bloodlessness, but in the midst of the foggy doom of "Good For You,", or at the moment where the coquettish verses to "Hands To Myself" are interrupted by the bridge's ominous synth, they provided successful contrast. The production on "Bad Liar," unfortunately, is far less striking. The chorus instrumentation in particular sounds like something from a fifteen-second web advertisement for private health insurance or home loans. Whether the Talking Heads sample is intended to signify obtuseness or a reverence to art rock royalty, or a combination of the two, I'm not sure. In any event the song's vacant dullness overrides any kudos it earns. [3]

Alfred Soto: Stumbling up the sidewalks of a city, like the anonymous frightened person in Suzanne Vega's "In Liverpool," trying to immerse in her Spotify playlist, the character in "Bad Liar" interrupts herself with asides, rewritten statements, and ebullient admissions (it helps that I thought she said "Guess I'm a bad lawyer"). The detritus of pop culture: musical cues from Laurie Anderson and Talking Heads compete with hand claps and a throwaway about the fall of Troy. A genuine wtf moment. [7]

Leonel Manzanares: The "Psycho Killer" bassline is an attention grabber, for sure, but it's Selena's incredibly confident, breezy, sultry delivery that turns this into an absolute Song of the Summer candidate. "Bad Liar" sees Gomez doubling down on the soft-but-solid approach of previous single "Hands to Myself," and boy does it pay off. Gomez' singles track record is one of the finest in mainstream pop, and every release plays to her fundamental strengths -- her mild, charming tone, especially -- without being too repetitive. "Bad Liar" feels like those elements have been finally taken to the highest point -- it's the sound of consecration. [8]

Stephen Eisermann: Having been referred to as "extra" and "the most" many times in my life, it shouldn't come as any surprise that I love this song. It's campy and try-hard, yes, but I choose to believe this is what Selena was going for. I mean, she can't actually think anyone buys these faux-clever lyrics (lol at the Battle of Troy reference) and anime-character affect she's put on her voice, right? And even if she does, this is something I can groove to and her attempt at actually singing after the second chorus reminds me of one too many of my failed shower belting attempts, so that makes this... relatable? What I'm trying to say is: I know this is bad, but it's a serious guilty pleasure and has secured a spot on my summer playlist, much to the chagrin of my friends, I'm sure. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Producer Ian Kirkpatrick fills the dead space on "Bad Liar" with just enough musical quirks to keep your brain entertained as it's lodged into the "Psycho Killer" bass groove. He doubles down on the minimalism that was explored on "Hands to Myself" while striving for a mood that's just as tantalizing. The miracle here is that he succeeds in spite of Selena Gomez's anonymity, something that's plagued her since day one. Her presence is retooled such that her vocal affectations and winding melodies are reduced to their bare musical elements. When a song privileges that over anything else, and extracts every bit of driving momentum possible thereafter, you get a bonafide dance hit. And as such, this should be played LOUDLY. [8]

Will Adams: Following in the sonic concept that made "Hands to Myself" great -- immediate closeness via minimal reverb and clipped percussion -- "Bad Liar" finds Selena Gomez whispering to herself in a tight space, her emotions slowly chipping away at the walls around her. The pivotal moment comes when she unexpectedly bursts out with "Oh, baby let's make!" and the walls implode. If ever there were a sound to describe the knee-shaking anxiety of a crush forcing you to show your hand, this is it. [7]

Mo Kim: Most of the points are for that blood rush of a chorus, "i'mtryingi'mtryingi'mtryingi'mtryingi'm trying" one of the most simple and effective earworms I've heard all year. But there are small pleasures to be found in every corner of "Bad Liar," from the blink-and-you'll-miss-it allusion to the Battle of Troy (like, what?) to the moment on the bridge Gomez's voice swells into barren want on "OH BABY LET'S MAKE" before snapping back into the same register of studied indifference she's been playing for the entire song. It's a remarkably rich emotional portrait, wrought from little more than a clever hook and some very smart vocal choices; more importantly it's a song that'll sound as crisp in winter as it does now in the throes of summer. [9]

Joshua Copperman: Michaels/Tranter/Gomez, with producer Ian Kirkpatrick, create something obtuse but mesmerizing, with handclaps, vocal layers, and that inspired Talking Heads sample coalescing into an extended reverse-onomatopoeia for "bop." Michaels and Tranter recently worked on Linkin Park's underwhelming One More Lights, and it makes me wonder if Gomez was always the secret ingredient; everyone seems to bring out the best in each other here. There's Michaels' quirky way with a phrase (what even is the "battle of Troy" line?), Tranter's campy humor (leave him alone for five seconds and he's off writing "Cake By The Ocean"!), and Selena's thin, flexible voice that reshapes itself, Dollhouse-style, into whatever it needs to be for a given song. The initial online reaction was that Selena went 'experimental' here, but that's not fully accurate -- in fact, it's highly reminiscent of Regina Spektor's more polished music. It's not until the final minute, where Selena moans that "oHh bAaby" line, that "Bad Liar" truly comes into its own, and the trio reaches its current apex as a team. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Selena Gomez #Bad Liar #TSJ Best of 2017

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tatooedlaura-blog · 7 years

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Tenth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth … Fourteenth … Fifteenth … Sixteenth … Seventeenth … Eighteenth … Nineteenth … Twentieth … Twenty-first … Twenty-second … Twenty-third

———————–

Mulder was so tired, he could barely see straight. He’d been working as a lumberman in the woods of northern Minnesota for the past three months, so he was used to the work but today had been extra cold, extra windy and everything seemed extra heavy, given the layers he had on and the fact that the snow was nearly three feet deep in spots. Not about to complain, however, given the extra money he was getting for working the holidays, he took a two-minute breather, then got back to it, cutting, trimming, moving, settling, tying, climbing, checking, trudging, to begin again.

Scully had scored herself a job on the janitorial staff of the local school system and was there now, cleaning the high school over break, making things neat and orderly for the return of the 1000 students come the end of winter break. He questioned her motives for applying and taking the job, given it was fairly far beneath her, but as she reminded him with a smile, he thought everything was beneath her, including him much of the time. She then told him she needed the contact, the interaction with the outside world, a conversation with someone other than him, no offense of course.

He hadn’t taken any, knowing it was harder for her than him to live the solitary lifestyle. She’d come from a boisterous, loud, bouncing family and to plunge her into single-interaction insanity wasn’t healthy in the long run. It took him almost a year to convince her she needed more than telemarketing jobs and data-entry positions that allowed her to work from home.

The Gunmen, long before the thought of running was a glint in Mulder’s eye, had begun making identifications for them. They’d created entirely new people, histories, allergies, likes, dislikes, dental visits, prescription refills, bad credit, maiden names, social security numbers, ATM cards, storage lockers and a myriad of other things that only paranoid, long-haired, suit-wearing funny named men could think of. After they finally filled Mulder in, Mulder began filling those accounts with money squirreled away from two inheritances, well-picked stock trades and living like a pauper for several decades.

Scully didn’t get in on the act until after Mulder had been abducted. She had a very frank conversation with Byers and Frohike while Langley, who was a surprisingly good cook, made them all a taco pie she would kill for everyday if necessary. They worked out a few kinks and soon, knowing something would have to give eventually with the situation, she was squirreling as well.

The pair of them tried not to touch any more of their savings after the first few months, deciding that odd jobs could bankroll their meager existence. Scully picked up several doing the aforementioned phone work and data entry while Mulder went the handyman/mowing lawns/painting houses route. Mulder’s paid under the table while Scully could have her checks automatically deposited into one of their fake checking accounts. All in all, they figured it out.

They became adept at being together and being apart from everyone else.

They learned to carry on conversations without delving too deeply into the past.

They learned that they only had each other.

Then they slowly began to learn to function apart.

Scully went to the smaller church in town and got a library card, making friends with the librarians while Mulder went to the woods. Scully needed people while Mulder needed to fire up a chainsaw and cut shit down, carving up a tree as he carved his past from his life.

All but Scully.

He kept her close.

She kept him closer.

Nights were quiet, filled with cards and movies and books and knitting and crossword puzzles and writing on Mulder’s part and learning on Scully’s. She decided one day she wanted to learn how to whittle. God knows why, Mulder thought, but he watched her determinedly wielding a pocketknife like it was scalpel. She accepted the blocks of wood he brought home after a day in the woods and eventually began turning them into chess pieces. When she was done with that, she began making blocks for the kindergarten and first grades, sanding edges, smoothing planes into several sets of alphanumerical squares that she donated by simply leaving them on the school steps at dawn.

She then began a secret project, one she did while sitting in the bathtub of their monthly-rental unit, able to keep her endgame hidden from Mulder by pulling the shower curtain shut when he had to pee.

It amused him and kept her mind occupied, which is all he could really ask for from the world he dragged her into. He’d stopped feeling guilty for taking her with him but he never quite got over it, so he brought her chunks of oak, cedar, pine as penance for his sins.

That Christmas Eve, he made it home after her, finding her cooking in their small kitchenette, ham and potatoes, bowl of jiggling red Jell-O on the side. “Christmas Dinner already? I thought we were doing that tomorrow?”

“This is just something quick. Tomorrow, I’ll make that small turkey I got and we’ll have stuffing and corn. It’ll be like Thanksgiving but … more Christmas-y.”

He grinned, sidling up to kiss her before disappearing to the shower to eliminate that day’s sweat and grime. Emerging 10 minutes later, he ate the filled plate she handed him, then filled again when he asked. Once he’d finished his Jell-O, he noticed her staring at him, her bottom lip half-pulled between her teeth, a question wanting to escape but held back by berry red lips. Putting the spoon down, he gave her a gently smile, his eyes soft, his face languid, “you, little miss, have a question to ask so spill it before you explode.”

“Would you like to come to church with me tonight? I mean, you don’t have to but I just … I’d like it if you did. I haven’t gone to Christmas mass alone … ever, really and ….”

The end of her sentence evaporated into the fragrant, honey-ham air of the room as she began to think this was a really stupid request.

He stopped her, though, before she got too anxious, talking herself out of something he had yet to say, “I would love to go with you.”

Relief flooded through her and he received her happiest smile, dimly lit by the one crappy overhead kitchen light, her eyebrows curving slightly along with the corners of her lips. “You sure?”

“As long as you know that the whole being struck by lightning the moment I walk in the place is still a viable possibility.”

“I don’t mind.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He took a short nap before they left and he felt fairly awake when they walked quietly into the church. It was a low building, decked outside with wreaths and lights and Nativity scene and decked inside with trees, pine garland, bows, angels and a particular smell that Mulder couldn’t seem to get enough of. Once they were seated, she leaned over, telling him in a hushed voice, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out in the next four minutes, I guarantee.”

“Then what is that smell?”

Scully took her own deep breath, “incense, pine, candle wax, snuffed matches and cinnamon.”

“That’s a hell of a nose you’ve got.”

“Don’t say hell, Mul- Jake. It’s church and you don’t need to invite the lightning.”

Mulder reached his hand over, capturing hers and squeezing it tightly, letting her know the near-mistake would be okay. It wasn’t enough to send them running like it might have in the earlier days but Scully still felt the panic rising in her chest, the comfort of his hand soothing but not eliminating the tightness in her belly.

They sat in silence as the church filled up around them. There were more people than Scully had expected but there was plenty of room between families and individuals that she didn’t feel crowded and overwhelmed and realizing this, relaxed a little and led Mulder through the Catholic rituals of midnight mass, complete with hand-holding, kneeling and boisterous carol singing, Mulder’s voice blending in seamlessly.

She’d have to ask him about his secret singing abilities when they got back home.

After communion, after the kneeling, during the sitting but before the standing and the praying, she felt Mulder’s head land on her shoulder. For a moment, she expected him to whisper something else to her, possibly asking when in the world this whole affair would be over but instead, he remained silent, asleep instead, eyes closed, cheek settled, breathing steady.

She didn’t have the heart to wake him to stand when the time came so she self-consciously sat, mouthing the prayers and holding his hand. Even the last of the celebratory singing didn’t wake him nor did the people filing past, smiling down at the pair, whispering ‘Merry Christmas’ to Scully, who could only thank them with a gestured, raised hand and a low, inaudible ‘Merry Christmas’ in return.

Waiting until the church was half-empty, she was about to start waking Mulder up when she caught sight of the priest crouching down beside her in the aisle, “apparently, I was not as inspiring as I could have been. I’ll have to do better next year.”

He said it with a wide grin, however, and Scully, knowing his sense of humor from the last few months, smiled back, “you did wonderfully. It’s just he was at work out in the woods at five this morning and only got the chance for a short nap before we came here.”

“I always tell the children that God doesn’t mind if they fall asleep while saying their prayers. It means they had a fulfilling day and feel safe enough to drift off giving thanks. I think the same applies here. A hard-working man does his best but eventually feels safe enough and happy enough to fall asleep with the one he loves, even if it’s the middle of mass.” Standing back up, “I take that as a compliment for both God and myself.”

Scully’s eyes desperately wanted to fill with tears but she swallowed them down, “Merry Christmas, Father.”

“Merry Christmas, Ella.”

&&&&&&&&

Soon, they were snuggled down in bed, Mulder’s mouth drifting across her neck, more asleep than awake and promising nothing but a moment of clarity to tell her he loved her and Merry Christmas. Nuzzling him back, she tucked herself into his arms, thinking about how, in the morning, it would be Christmas and he would see the ornament she’d carved for him and she’d find out what was in that square box he’d wrapped for her several weeks back.

But first, she was going to go to sleep, warm and cozy under their flannel sheets and thick comforter, the one with the crop circle pattern that Mulder had indulged in when they realized they’d be north for the winter. The single string of red Christmas lights strung over the bathroom door frame bathed Mulder’s face in holiday hues and with a final kiss, she shut her eyes, his heartbeat carrying her into slumber beside him.

#msr #on the run #lumberjacks and janitors #anything to pay the bills #christmas series #my writing #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic

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jim-reid · 6 years

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Jesus and Mary Chain: chapter, verse and worse

Biba Kopf / NME 16.02.1985Nine months in the making, the far from immaculately conceived Jesus And Mary Chain from Glasgow, have been alternately heralded as new messiahs or dismissed as a bloody mess. In the gospel according to Biba Kopf those alternatives are the flipsides of the same coin. So please welcome...the bloody messy messiahs! (Pictures: Peter Anderson) I: BLAST! When the rock lost its roll we should have guessed we were in trouble. But somebody disguised its stasis with terms like progressive and all of us thought we were still moving forward. From this vantage point, though, 15 years on from the completion of the cycle begun with Elvis Presley - that is, when the 50's baby boom degenerates brought up on their King (not mine) took control - it would seem we were condemned to repeat that cycle and all its mistakes. And the more often it is repeated the tighter and more restricting its revolutions become. The longer the history of rock runs - or should we say crawls - the more apparent it is that the only true movement has not come from within the cycle, but from the outside, from those who have carried out great blasting operations on its massive, unwieldy shape with the intention, subconscious or otherwise, to get it rolling again. When I think of the great demolition squads blasting away at the foundations of those who would make of rock a citadel for the old-aged, I think of those with a love for its simplicity, its destructive character, its otherness, those like Lou Reed's The Velvet Underground, who had an uncanny understanding of chord changes between A and E. I think of Bolan, Roxy, Bowie, Iggy, The New York Dolls; of those not so readily accommodated, like Cohen, Ayers, Harper; of the great Europeans Can, Kraftwerk, Neu, who have no respect for the Anglo-American rock hegemony. I think of punk, the Pistols, the Buzzcocks; of Hell, Verlaine and the Ramones. I think of Einstürzebnde Neubauten, Birthday Party, Scraping Foetus Off The Wheel; of Hardcore, the Swans, and Sonic Youth. Eventually I would come to The Jesus and Mary Chain. 2: DAMN! From Elvis to The Jesus And Mary Chain? Where are the links, the ties that bind? I prefer not to see them as links so much as disruptions from which can be plotted a pattern of disintegration. As with the pattern, so with the sound itself. This is music forced to the point it splinters, breaks up, divides. In each splinter resides new possibilities. In this disintegration, in this pattern of disintegration, I trace the dynamic that keeps the rock rolling, the constants being boys and noise. 3: BOYS Brothers William (guitar) and Jim Reid (voice), Douglas Hart (bass) and Bobby Gilllespie (drums). All 20 or under, they formed some nine months or so ago in East Kilbride, Glasgow, they soon moved south to London. Presently living three to a room, they are not happy there. Then, it might not be in their nature to be happy anywhere. "I suppose coming from Glasgow it sounds like we got off to a bad start," postulates Jim. "But it helped us in a way. There might be a feeling of hopelessness in Glasgow, but in London there is hopelessness. You're just a group there in a pile of shit, but in Glasgow there is not much to compete with. People have got this idea that there is where it is all happening, but it is not. Glasgow never accepted us anyway. We couldn't even get played, they didn't want anything to do with us. We would take our tapes around and people would laugh at us. That's why we had to come here. It didn't bother us." 4: NOISE A psycho beat and drone pop melody are simultaneously rent apart and swamped in wave upon wave of the guitar feedback that is the group's instant hit. For them feedback isn't the tasteful curlicue to a dying chord brought in on the fade to fool the listener into thinking he's onto something exciting, but the core of what they do. Placing an unstable, barely controllable noise at their centre lends them their exhilarating, unpredictable edge. Jesus and Mary Chain music could fall apart at any moment. But, contrary to popular opinion, they do have songs to fall back upon. Not many, mind. 5. DOUBT? Boys and noise? Noise as the refuge of the idle? The noiseboys as the false idols? Do they simply substitute piercing feedback and exploding amps for tonality, struck guitar for carefully plucked, constant crescendo for properly constructed peaks and troughs? Yes! And why not? Who has the time these days to learn? The cut and slash of Jesus And Mary Chain feedback, while falling short of the total demolition jobs carried out by Einstürzende Neubauten, Boyd Rice et al, might be a shortcut to the ecstasy of noise, but there's no denying its appeal as an escape route from the pervasive flatness. Any lingering doubts stem from the speed with which it has all happened. In nine short months Jesus and Mary Chain have left home, settled in and unsettled London, released one single ("Upside Down" on Creation) and recorded a second ("Never Understand" for Blanco y Negro/WEA), and received such unenviable comparisons as "best thing since The Sex Pistols" to live down. The number of gigs they've played add up to handfuls, the minutes they've been exposed to the public barely stretch around the clock. They can just about summon up ten songs, at least two of which - Syd Barrett's 'Vegetable Man' and Vic Godard's 'Ambition' - are covers. Unsurprisingly their sets have been known to splutter to an abrupt halt long before the expected concert span. "So how do you work out money's worth, anyway?" challenges Bobby. 6: DISMISSED! "It's happening again," sighs William. "It's all coming back, that musicianship snobbery. That snobbish musicianship type attitude. You see it in a lot of live reviews you read these days, where the reviewers say something like, they're not very good, but they're good and tight, competent at their instruments. I think that's a horrible thing to say. It doesn't matter how competent you are at your instrument, though it's something people seem to admire. It's whether you can write a good song." "It's the end result what counts," asserts Douglas. "It's beside the point how you get there." "But we're not saying that to make a thunderous noise you have got to be a bad guitarist," adds William defensively. "Look at The Birthday Party, their guitar sound was brilliant and I don't believe he was a shitty guitarist. People might call me a shitty guitarist, but I get what we want." "A lot of people look at us and think we're amateur," says an incredulous Jim. "That's totally absurd. Why call us amateurs? They way we sound is the way we want it to sound. We're totally competent, we do what we want to do. What's so amateur about that?" 7: DISGUST Jesus and Mary Chain as blasting operation: "We don't want anyone to go away from our gigs and say, hmm, not bad," spits Jim. "We're trying to avoid being not bad. The sort of people who despise us are the sort of people we want to despise us. The sort of people who think we're great are the sort of people we want to think we are great. Who do you want to despise you? "People with the opposite attitude to us. People who tune their guitars before going onstage, people that make a point of things like that. We don't make a point of not tuning guitars, mind, but people call us assholes for not doing it anyway. People who say we shouldn't be allowed to exist because we cannot play very well. I'm equally disgusted with them as they probably are with me. "We're totally outnumbered," he admits. "Since we've been in a group we seem to come up against people who deliberately get in our way. But when we started this group we thought we'd do what we want, please ourselves, but everyone tries to stop us. That may sound paranoid but it's the truth! We can't play our gigs, we can't get a sound man to do what we tell him. In the studio we ask for feedback, say turn it right up and they tell us, that's as far as it'll go, son." "Don't you think it's quite funny that sound men don't understand the word treble?" quips William. "It's as if there's a secret bible written just for soundmen, saying what they can and cannot do." 8: UNLOVED The beauty of thriving on antagonism, feeding off your own unloveable self is, of course, that your own behaviour ensures you need never go hungry. The Jesus And Mary Chain will not let up or make things easy for themselves. They convert the energy invested in others' hatred into the flailing noise they fling back at audiences. "When we're playing live and somebody shouts, play some music, that gives us fuel," posits Bobby. Just so their contract with the record industry. If once Creation were the only label willing to give them a chance, they had the majors clambering over each other with enticing offers after they'd been marked as "the best things since The Sex Pistols". Having signed a one-off deal with Blanco Y Negro/WEA, their contact with the majors confirms all the worst they'd heard about them. The one-off deal would also indicate that Warners have as little faith in the Jesus And Mary Chain as they have in the company. "That was us!" corrects Jim. "We didn't want to be tied to a thing like that. The longterm deals they were asking of us were a joke. Like no feedback on records. Or put a little bit of feedback on just to please the fans. It seems that do what we tell you and you'll make lots of money is the deal. But the one-off deal gives us the power to do what we want." "And if it's a hit we'll have the upper hand," interjects William. "But for the moment it seems we're this month's scruffs," concludes Jim. "Everytime you walk into the place they greet you with a smile. Everything's great!" 9: PUNK? Jim: "As I have said, attitude is important. We've got an attitude and I want it to come across. I want people to feel it, stop, change their minds, look at their situation or whatever. That's what happened to me when I heard punk rock. Punk rock covers a lot. It isn't just the Sex Pistols, Clash or Buzzcocks. Punk rock was an attitude and we have that attitude. A lot of people have had it... That's it." 10: SACRED Jim: "Sacred? Well nothing that springs to mind, but probably something." 11: SACRILEGE? Why fuck about with Vic Godard's 'Ambition'? It seems that (on the B-side to the forthcoming 'Never Understand' ) fuck is all they've added to the chorus. "Well, at our first gig we had seven songs and needed ten. We thought 'Ambition' is something that could have been done better. If we didn't, then there would be no point in doing it. A lot of people might be upset by it. I dunno." 12: DISCLAIMER The opinions expressed in this article unless directly quoted are those of the author and do not necessarily coalesce with those of the Jesus And Mary Chain. Jesus And Mary Chain, however, soundtrack these opinions. 13: ABANDON In the beginning was the word and the word was abandon. Jesus And Mary Chain extracted the band from abandon and their messy, massively exhilarating noise was born. "It's not just like that," contradicts William. "It's not just a party we're having." Contrary sods, Jesus And Mary Chain.

#interview

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