#and caused chaos because he was never accepted by his family and peers?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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CQL-verse! The characters have the same age gaps between them as their actors and actresses! Wwx and Jyl are the same age, jc is 5 years younger than them. Lxc is 3 years younger than wwx&jyl and lwj is 3 years younger than him. Nmj is two years older than wwx&jyl and nhs is 8 years younger than him and the same age as lwj. (1/2)

Meng Yao is 2 years older than nhs and jzx is 2 years older than MY. I'm leaving the Wen Sibs out of this because otherwise WN would be the same age as wwx and WQ would be 4 years younger than him. But hey! If you want to go with that, go crazy! I was thinking more of Yunmeng Sibs focus, but I will be happy with anything! (2/2)

ao3

Untamed

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect to the point of death and war, but he had always had trouble hating sad and gentle Wen Ning.

Wen Ning was technically his peer – there were only two years between them in age – and therefore capable of the same sorts of responsibilities and duties towards righteousness as Nie Mingjue, meaning that he ought to hate him as much as all the rest. But at the same time, Wen Ning was only part of the main branch family indirectly, a ward of Wen Ruohan; he was constantly suppressed and even tormented by Wen Chao, the eldest son of that family. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’d been brought into the family just to act as the family’s scapegoat, the inferior copy that was so hapless that he made that self-indulgent hedonist Wen Chao appear somewhat competent in contrast.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine treating any of his own cousins that way.

He and Wen Chao were often compared, both being about the same age, and their young brothers were of similar age as well, both of them only fourteen; this juxtaposition made sure that every single person in the cultivation world talk of them in the same breath. Nie Mingjue always came out the better in the comparison, and Wen Xu the same for his, which in the minds of most people balanced out, but which caused Wen Chao no end of rage. He knew he couldn’t take out his anger on the talented Wen Xu and so took out on poor Wen Ning instead.

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect.

He did not hate Wen Ning.

Wen Ning, who should not be here.

“Please,” Wen Ning said, nearly in tears, as he threw himself down to the floor in front of Nie Mingjue. He’d burst into the room in the inn Nie Mingjue was staying at, the guards that no sect leader could do without no matter what they wanted following close behind in alarm until Nie Mingjue had waved them off with a gesture; he’d been panting so hard that he’d only just now caught his breath. “Please help this useless older brother do one good thing with his life.”

Alarmed, Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Wen Ning by the shoulders, pulling him to stand and even forgetting himself enough to reach forward with a sleeve to dab away the tears staining the other man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling anxiety curdling in his gut. He’d spoken with Wen Ning before during the discussion conferences, both when he was younger and even, in a few stolen moments, after he became sect leader; he knew Wen Ning had a steady personality, if a weak one from all the bullying he endured, and that he was not given to unnecessary hysterics. If he could tolerate Wen Chao’s endless torment with a faint smile and a don’t worry sect leader Nie once you’re used to it it’s more funny than anything else, then what could make him act like this? “What is that you need help with? I do not understand.”

Wen Ning looked tired. He always had, his health had always been poor, but now it seemed worse than ever; there were circles under his eyes, and Nie Mingjue had no idea how he’d managed to get away from the Nightless City to come find him. The town he was currently in was close to the border the Qinghe Nie shared with Qishan Wen, but it was still an effort, especially for someone like Wen Ning. He might be a member of the Wen family by name, but his freedom was significantly curtailed, and it wasn’t only because he was sickly.

“My little sister is going to be attending the lectures at the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ning said.

“The - Lan sect lectures?” Nie Mingjue repeated blankly. It was a stupid thing to say; of course it was the Lan sect’s lectures, who else would give lectures at the Cloud Recesses? And yet, at the same time – “The Wen sect hasn’t gone to them in generations.”

“Sect Leader Wen asked A-Qing to look for something,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t know what. He talks to her more than he talks to me, when she’s treating him with acupuncture and other such things – he only wants blood relations treating him now, so she’s passing along what she can do, the doctors all say she’s talented – he told her something, I think, but I don’t know what, he doesn’t talk to me…and she doesn’t talk to me, either.”

“She’s sixteen, they’re like that,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to offer comfort, but he didn’t like the sound of that – Wen Ruohan growing reliant on the medical skills of a teenager, talking with her as if she were an adult…it didn’t speak well to the Chief Cultivator’s state of mind. “So she’s going to go spy on them?”

“She is. And maybe more. There’s – there’s something back in the Nightless City, something Sect Leader Wen is refining in order to increase his power. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and evil.” Wen Ning looked paler than usual, somehow. “It was something that was kept in a cave near our village when we were younger, once. Sect Leader Wen took it away to study, and it made something go crazy, I got hurt, and my parents – anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go near it without losing my senses, so I really don’t know anything about it. But I know that Sect Leader Wen only has a piece – and the Lan sect has another.”

Lan Xichen had never mentioned such a thing, but then again, he wasn’t really old enough that Nie Mingjue would expect him to know everything about his sect – he was after all a full five years younger than Nie Mingjue, three years younger than Wen Ning; he was still only seventeen, having only just graduated from his uncle’s classes the year before. He was only very technically sect leader, in the same way Nie Mingjue had only been technically sect leader after his father’s death, although unlike Lan Xichen Nie Mingjue had fought his way to step up to the task for real early on. He himself was only barely considered an adult at the age of twenty-two; it was no surprise that in the Lan sect, which had Lan Qiren to rely on, Lan Xichen might not know it all.

Or perhaps he knew, and simply didn’t say. Each sect was entitled to its secrets.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m thinking that my sister is constantly afraid for me, even though she’s younger than me,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “I’m thinking that she will break her own principles into pieces to protect me. I’m thinking that she’ll find whatever it is, or find a hint to it, and then Wen Chao will take his forces to burn the Cloud Recesses to the ground in search of it.”

Nie Mingjue could see that.

He didn’t want to, but he could.

“My brother is attending those lectures,” he said blankly. Nie Huaisang was there right now. He could be in danger – no, he would be in danger. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a good cultivator, and at fourteen, he was just a baby. Nie Mingjue had sent Meng Yao with him, nominally as his attendant, but in fact to get the benefit of the classes himself and also bully Nie Huaisang into actually learning something – he’d brought Meng Yao into the Nie sect after Jin Zixuan, full of guilt over how his father had treated a boy only two years his junior, had sent him a letter beseeching him for help following Meng Yao’s public and humiliating rejection from Jinlin Tower – but Meng Yao was only sixteen, of age with Wen Qing; what could he really do?

Moreover, sending Wen Qing and not Wen Xu, even though Wen Xu was the same age as Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji, indicated that Wen Ruohan didn’t want his more promising son to get involved in whatever it was that he was planning, or maybe in whatever consequences followed. If Wen Chao really were to try something violent, they couldn’t afford to have a weakness already there…

“I need to get A-Qing out of the Wen sect,” Wen Ning said, and Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock. “Permanently. I’ve begged her to go, but she won’t leave me, she won’t leave our family of the Dafan Wen, but she has to. Something bad is going to happen soon. I know it. I don’t mind trading my life for hers, but she has to live.”

“Is there any way you can go to the Cloud Recesses as well?” Nie Mingjue asked, his mind already racing. He’d long ago given up on helping Wen Ning because he knew the other man wouldn’t turn traitor against his family, being an upright and filial child, but if his family had reached such a depth of corruption as that, then it was only right to leave them behind. If Wen Ning was finally accepting that, maybe there was something he could do. “You’re sensitive to the – whatever it is. Right? Maybe Wen Qing can suggest bringing you around to help her find her way to it.”

“How would that help?”

“It gets you somewhere safe, while I can rescue Dafan Wen – without a threat to you or to them, your sister would have no reason to insist on staying,” Nie Mingjue said, though it wouldn’t be him, exactly, that did the rescue – he’d need a firm alibi lest Wen Ruohan use it as an excuse to start something with his Nie sect. He might have prepared for war as much as he could, but the Wen sect was still stronger; if war broke out, he needed to make sure that he had the moral high ground.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian, that walking calamity of a head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, had of late developed the habit of wandering over to visit various other sects, including Qinghe (and Nie Mingjue in specific), at his leisure, and no one ever would think to blame him for such a strange thing as a subsidiary sect of distant Wen sect cousins disappearing.

After all, Wei Wuxian had no reason to know or care about the Dafan Wen, and everyone knew he abjured politics completely, violently and repetitively, so as to make no mistake about anyone who might otherwise see him as competition for the Jiang sect’s true heir, Jiang Cheng. The five-year gap between their ages kept them from being compared – you couldn’t expect a child, and at fifteen Jiang Cheng was still very much a child, to keep up with an adult just turned twenty like Wei Wuxian – but there had always been whispers given everything with Cangse Sanren, and Wei Wuxian had had to work very hard to put a stop to them.

Wei Wuxian’s wandering habit had started back when he’d been trying to find Jiang Yanli a new fiancée to replace the engagement he’d broken by fighting with Jin Zixuan, however shameful it was for him to fight with a boy two years his junior. It was for that that he had come to Qinghe to meet Nie Mingjue, leading to them hitting it off as friends despite Nie Mingjue expressing that he had absolutely no interest in getting married to Jiang Yanli, or indeed to any nice young lady at all; then, in turn, Nie Mingjue had brought him to the Lan sect to meet Lan Xichen. They’d gotten along as well, although the most notable outcome of that visit had been little Lan Wangji developing a crush on his elder brother’s new friend while Wei Wuxian remained blissfully oblivious. His wanderings had continued even after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had found their way back to each other, affianced once again through their own choice rather than their parents’.

Said parents had not yet been informed of this new situation, as they were waiting for the right time to mention it. Or perhaps more accurately, the right situation to exploit with it…

Now, Nie Mingjue thought. Now was the time. It would work perfectly.

And not just as a distraction.

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Whatever it is, Wen Ruohan must be kept from obtaining all of the pieces; he’s already too powerful, and more power will only make him more arrogant. I’ll speak with Lan Qiren. Once I take the Dafan Wen back to the Nie sect, your sister will be able to testify to whatever it is that she was asked to search for, which will give Lan Qiren the evidence he needs to get his sect’s approval for retaliatory measures. Moreover, using Wei Wuxian to help me will force Jiang Fengmian to support me as well; there’s no way he’d ever refuse to back him to the hilt.”

“The Jin sect –”

“Will join us,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s yet-to-be-announced engagement. Once Jin Guangshan realized that he would be pulled into the same boat as the rest of them whether he wanted to or not, any resistance he had would crumble like a structure made of sand being beaten down by the tide. “They won’t have a choice. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There’s a child,” Wen Ning said, biting his lips. “Around the same age as your brother or my sister, or maybe the Jiang sect heir, I don’t know, around that. He helps Sect Leader Wen with whatever he’s doing.”

“A child helps him?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. Some secret his family knows, I think…his surname is Xue.”

Nie Mingjue frowned.

“I don’t know much about him,” Wen Ning added. “Only that he has some history with the Yueyang Chang clan. Bad history.”

“That’s a good start,” Nie Mingjue said. He realized that he hadn’t yet released Wen Ning’s shoulders, and gave them a small squeeze before doing so. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do everything I can to help you.”

Wen Ning looked at him with admiration in his eyes, making Nie Mingjue feel a little hot under the collar.

“Thank you, Chifeng-zun,” he murmured, and Nie Mingjue shook his head.

“Call me by name,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’ll be here a lot in the future, if all goes well.”

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect, but he didn’t hate gentle and sad Wen Ning.

He didn’t hate him at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #count your age #I know you said Yunmeng focus but this is what came out #sorry #full list of ages on the ao3 page

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foilfreak · 3 years

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BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Abandoned (4)

*This one was a week late thanks to finals. Hope this makes up for it!*

~~~

It is strange how normal things can be after having a revelation. Nothing really changes. The sun still rises, waves crash on the sand, and birds sing in the trees. It is all so painstakingly normal.

After I accepted that papa had really left me here, accepted that he had traded me for freedom, I don’t know what I expected. It felt as if the sky should at least be dark and bleak. Rain should be pouring down and the sea should rage like the storm inside me. It was almost comical how I expected such chaos and was greeted with warm days full of sun and sparkling waters.

I stopped looking for the Jolly Roger over the horizon. I stopped counting the days I had been trapped. I stopped trying to recall everything about my life before Neverland in some vain attempt to keep my memories intact. There simply was no reason.

Pan came by to see what I was doing after our nighttime encounter out on the sea. He never revealed himself but I could always tell when he was there. Watching unseen from the trees. Not interfering but not ignoring either.

One day some of the Lost Boys came by me when I was resting at my camp. Upon seeing me they stammered out apologies and ran off back to where they came. My heart panged because I wanted them to stay. I wanted someone to talk to. I thought of going to Tinkerbell but I knew if I did we’d end up talking about papa and I couldn’t put myself through reminders of him right now.

Most nights I heard music coming from the jungle but it didn’t have the hypnotic spell over me as it once had. It as no challenge to ignore it and I wasn’t sure if that was worse or better.

I only ventured towards the camp of the Lost Boys once. The sounds of joy and fun pulled me forward but the reality of what I was choosing kept me from going in. I watched from the sidelines as the boys whooped and jumped and danced around a raging bonfire. It reminded me of the nights where the crew would break out their instruments and dance on the deck. It was nothing pretty but it was fun. I could remember papa teaching me how to dance properly. Standing on his toes...

I reached for my pocketwatch and breathed out remembering how I had hurled it into the sea. I need to stop reminiscing. It’s only causing me more grief. I looked back up at the camp and saw Pan emerge from the shadows. It was as if he had sensed me for he looked right at me. There was a peculiar smile on his face. Almost inviting. He held out a hand towards me, his fingers curling to tempt me to his side.

My feet were rooted in their spot. It wasn’t until Pan took the first step towards me that I was able to move again and took off back into the jungle. I got back to my camp and huddled down in my hut. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I just enter the camp? Why couldn’t I move on?

I was just getting my breathing under control when I felt the familiar gaze of someone watching me.

“What do you want, Pan?” I asked, my voice quiet.

“So you have known that I was watching. I couldn’t tell for sure before.” Pan was closer, standing just outside of my hut. He bent down to peer inside at me. “Feel like talking now?”

I scooted out to the entrance. “Why did you follow me?”

“Because this is the first time since you kidnapped me that you’ve sought anyone out. Considering it’s been over a week since then I figured I’d meet you half way.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t live on your own forever. It’ll drive you mad. I imagine it already has some. That’s why you came to the camp.”

“How come you never said anything? You’ve been watching me for days without a word. Why say something now?”

“Like I said, you sought me out. You wanted space so I figured that I’d wait for you to come to me when you were ready. You can still come back to camp. It’ll be alright.”

My eyes snapped to his. “I don’t want to be a part of your crew.”

He gave a sigh and sat down next to me. “Still don’t trust me?” He asked.

“I’ve accepted the situation I have been forced into. My father traded me for passage out of this hellhole and since crossing realms is no easy feat I do not expect him to be able to come back for me. But…”

“There’s still a part that wants to believe he’s trying to return for you.” Pan’s voice was uncommonly gentle. Almost as if he was talking to a spooked animal. Perhaps that was what I was. A scared little creature that wanted to scuttle back into her hidey hole.

“You must think me a fool,” I scoffed.

“I think you’ve been spurned by someone you trusted and don’t know how to handle it.” He laid a hand on my back. It was surprisingly comforting. “In the years that I have lived I’ve learned a few things. One of them is that loyalty, once lost, is never earned again. Not true loyalty. Even if your father came back for you there is a part of you that would never trust him like you once did.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Pan studied me for a moment longer before standing up and holding his hand out for me, “Come along,”

“Where are we going?” I ignored his hand and stood up on my own.

“I’m showing you that you can trust me.”

He withdrew something from the pouch on his belt. It glittered like a jewel but had an odd shape. “This is a magic bean,” He said, “It can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“You’re not giving me that, are you?”

“No. We’re gonna go on a trip.” He grabbed hold of my arm, “Brace yourself, this can get a little rough.”

He dropped the bean on the ground and immediately the ground opened up into a swirling vortex pulling us both in. I clung onto Pan tighter. The journey was disorienting and my head was spinning when we finally were deposited somewhere else.

As the dizziness subsided I was able to note a few things. One, we definitely weren’t on Neverland anymore. We had been dropped on some dock where the cold air reeked of fish. In the distance there was a town. Most of the houses were dark but there looked to be an inn or a tavern that exuded warmth and energy.

Wait, I know this town! We would dock here all the time. This was where I lost--

My blood went cold. “Pan,” I turned to him, “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see,” He motioned for me to follow him. I pulled my coat tighter against me and followed after him into the town. The closer we got to the tavern the louder the cheer inside became. My legs felt like they were being weighted down by cannonballs the closer we got. Without even looking I could remember where everything was. Down that road was the blacksmith. Around that corner was a bakery. To the right of that well was the apothecary.

Pan noticed me lagging behind and grabbed me to keep up with him. “Really Pan,” I tried to pry his hand off my arm as we entered the tavern. “Why are we here?”

“Because he’s here,” Pan pointed to a spot near the back of the tavern.

Sitting at a table surrounded by pirates and wenches was my father playing a card game and drinking.

“Papa…” A part of me wanted to run up to him and hug him and never let him go. Another part of me kept me rooted in my spot. I turned to Pan. “What is this? Why’d you bring me here? To show me what I’ve lost?”

“Not at all,” he released my arm, “This is your chance. Return to him.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. If you want to you can be reunited with your father and I give you my word I will never bother you again.”

“It’s a trick. A trap of some kind!”

“No tricks here, swordfish. I am being completely serious.”

“You’re releasing me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

I took a tentative step away from Pan. I took another waiting to see if he would stop me but he made no move. I stepped closer and closer to where papa was sitting. This was real. I can go home! After so long I can finally be with my family again!

“Is that the Lady Jones I see?” The sound of a familiar voice silenced any joy I held.

I turned to see who had addressed me. A familiar pirate with overgrown red hair and a stubbly chin walked towards me. He was all muscles and devil-may-care charm wrapped in worn brown leather. “Karver,” I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t be surprised you’re here.”

“Are you still sore about the last time we met that you won’t call me Quentin?” he shook his head, “If you’d allow me I’d like to make up for it.”

“I don’t want anything from you. After months of being trapped I have finally gotten away from the hellscape that was Neverland and want to get back to my father and crew.”

“Ah yes,” Karver threw an arm over my shoulders. I tried not to shudder. “Captain Jones was regaling the tavern with the tale earlier. Nasty stuff you all encountered. I was wondering why you weren’t with the crew celebrating.”

“That’s because I only got off the island recently. I haven’t had months to become numb to everything we went through while trapped in Neverland like they have.”

“Months?” Karver’s eyebrows knit together, “Kitten, the crew of the Jolly Roger shot up from the sea like a ghost ship a week ago. They’ve been drinking the town dry ever since.”

“A week? It’s only been a week since they left Neverland? A week!” I fumed. No...no this couldn’t be happening. I was on Neverland by myself for months and it hadn’t even been a week here? I knew time moved differently in Neverland but I never expected this!

“Problem?” Karver asked.

I looked across the tavern at my father. My father who was laughing and drinking with some floozy on his lap without a care in the world. This was the same man who had gone silent for months after mama died. It took him years to be comfortable enough to act like the wolfish pirate I saw before me when mama died. To him I had been bargained away a week ago. A week ago he gave me up to escape and what was it I found? He wasn’t mourning. He wasn’t trying to find a way back to me. He was in a tavern getting drunk and having fun. He was here having the time of his life knowing full well that I was stuck on Neverland at the mercy of Pan and the Lost Boys.

I shoved Karver away and stormed back out of the tavern. Pan was waiting outside.

My voice trembled with anger and betrayal. “He was never going to come back for me. It wasn’t even a thought in his head. Was it?”

“I thought it best if you saw for yourself.” Pan said.

“Why though? I’m his daughter! Don’t I mean anything?”

“Sounds like something to ask him.” Pan nodded towards the tavern.

I shook my head. Bitter tears pouring down my face. “No. I want out of here. I want to leave. Now!”

Pan held out a hand for me. “Do you trust me now, Lost Girl?”

I took one last look inside at the man who raised me. The man who sold me. I took Pan’s hand. “I want to go home.”

Pan smiled and withdrew another bean. The next moment we were falling through a portal on our way back to Neverland. The air was warm once again, the sand was pliant and soft beneath my boots. I took in a deep breath, salty ocean air with just a hint of flowers from the jungle on the tail end of it.

I remembered what I told Pan before we returned. I didn’t say I wanted to go back to Neverland. I said I wanted to go home. When did Neverland become home?

“Feel like coming to camp now?” Pan asked, giving a little tug on our interlaced hands.

“Can we stay here tonight? I don’t think I have the energy to go to your camp right now.”

“We?” Pan asked, “Am I to take it that you want me to stay?”

Heat started to creep up my neck and I gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t want to be alone again.” I admitted. I felt like a child. I was practically begging him to stay here with me.

Pan’s features softened and we sat down. His hand still held mine and he used his other to light a small fire for us. “You won’t be alone ever again, Lost Girl.” he murmured, “I promise.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine

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gingit-cake · 3 years

Text

Therapeutic Gallavich

I’ve been wanting to write a tribute post to the Gallavich universe as a free source of therapy during the pandemic. I’m somewhat tongue in cheek here, but in a country (USA) where we have too little mental health support and too much stigma about mental health, diving into the Gallavich fandom and binging Shameless over the past 6m has been a really comforting coping mechanism for me. There is so much grief and loss in the world, so many ways our government and - for many people - our peers have failed us, that the fictional world of Ian and Mickey has been a wonderful source of comfort, in a lot of ways. It’s a retreat from the IRL shitshow. It’s got endless permutations of happy endings, to give us that serotonin boost and vicarious thrill. And given Mickey and Ian’s respective struggles - homophobic and sexual abuse, mental illness, neglect, parental death, incarceration, etc. - there are also countless fanfics that include therapy, recovery, and informal paths towards healing from past trauma. I’ve never related to a show so personally as I have Shameless, and binging it during the pandemic - when social isolation leaves way too much time for rumination, compounded by being at midlife and the reflection that triggers - it basically ripped open my heart and dredged up long buried stuff I’m finally willing to address. My husband and I watched the S7 finale on New Year’s Day, and let’s just say 2021 has been an emotional retcon of my life since. (I’m learning all the creative, literary terms.) (And don’t worry, strangers on the internet, I am fortunate to have a therapist and the insurance to pay for it. I wish we all had this.)

There’s been a few fanfics I explicitly want to give a shoutout too as ones featuring therapy or recovery or conversations that have stayed with me in a meaningful way. Excerpts, tributes, and links below the jump. Possible spoilers for Enemy Lines, Someone to Hold Me Up, Buy and By, and Etherized Against the Sky.

Enemy Lines, by J_Q and stars_fall_on - Ian has a therapist Dr. Lancaster, who introduces him to the concept of rumination:

“He felt a tightening in his chest. Did he even want to let go of Mickey? If not, what the hell was he still holding onto? A memory. A feeling. A belief that he’d made a real connection. But nothing substantial. Nothing real. // 'Ian, is there something hindering you from wanting to move on?" she asked then sat back, looking closely at him. “Are you familiar with the term rumination? // ... // Rumination, as opposed to worry, very often focuses on loss and an overpowering need to understand why something happened.' She continued to watch him closely as she spoke. 'While emotional processing starts out this way, healthy processing leads to acceptance and a release of negative emotions, but rumination keeps you stuck in a pattern.’”

THIS is my brain in a nutshell. As I wrote in a comment on one of the chapters to this amazing slow burn, enemies-to-lovers fic, I’ve got relationships from 20y+ ago that I still brood over. I’m working on letting go and the Gallavich universe has been a creative inspiration for doing some of that work.

Someone to Hold Me Up, by @westernredcedar - Mickey has a conversation with an OC about forgiveness, after reconnecting with Ian in this hurt/comfort fic:

“'You ever have to forgive your guy for something?' Mickey asks. // Mel laughs. 'Of course. Daily, actually. The man’s a damn slob.' // Mickey snorts, but then he runs his hand over his mouth and tries to actually get to the point. ‘What about something big?' // Mel looks like he’s considering the question thoughtfully, and Mickey realizes that somewhere in the midst of all this madness, he’s really gotten to like this guy. 'I have lots of thoughts about forgiveness, actually,” Mel says with an eyebrow raised. “So you may not want to get me started on that theme. But it’s more about my parents and my sister than about Jeffrey, if that matters. I guess for me it all boils down to this: would it cost me more to forgive or cost me more to stay angry? And my answer to that question is not the same for everyone.’”

This conversation about forgiveness has really stayed with me. One of the reasons I’ve realted so much to the character of Ian Gallagher is I had a hothead brunet of a boyfriend in high school during that same age range (15-17) who is probably the same height as Noel Fisher and caused no shortage of DRAMA in my life, and it didn’t end well. (We were definitely NOT soulmates.) I am serious when I say Shameless and Gallavich specifically helped me let a lot of this 30y old angst go. This exchange b/w Mickey and Mel gets at it - it was costing ME a lot to hang on to this past.

By and By, by @nowherenj - This one I’m not going to excerpt, because it was the whole story that moved me. Nowherennj draws on their experience in recovery, and this slow burn is both beautifully written and a primer on being in recovery. This was really helpful for me, as I have close friends and family who are in recovery, some with a dual diagnosis (drug use + mental health diagnosis), and this story’s generous attention to detail helped illustrate their experiences for me in a way that we don’t talk about on a regular basis. One of the reasons I identify so strongly with Shameless is because I come from a big sprawling Irish-American family with a lot of addiction and mental illness in it. This fic about Ian and Mickey in recovery makes explicit much of what I think my family hovers around because it can be so hard to talk about openly. I wept reading this one when the author brought in The Avett Brothers’ No Hard Feelings - how I want to live my life.

Etherized against the Sky, by Snarfle - This one is less about my own therapeutic journey and more about what I hope I can be for young adults that I work with now. It has a character in it named Mr. Strickland, who is a very important father figure for Mickey. I was a professor for a decade, and still mentor young adults in my current job. I think one of the unsung roles that I experienced in academia is too be a mentor for young people. Some instructors are just about curriculum and grading, but when you cross paths with young adults at the beginning of this stage of life, figuring their sh*t out, the ability to be a kind and safe source of input and an active, non-judgemental listener is honestly the most fulfilling aspect of working with students and young professionals, in my view. Maybe it’s because the years 15-25 were such chaos for me, but I love working with people this age (and probably why I hang around on Tumblr despite my near eligibility for AARP lol). You’ve got your whole life in front of you! So many possibilities! Full of hot boyfriends and tomato plants and rescue dogs and heated pools. :)

There are surely more, I’ve realized that “hurt/comfort” is a great tag for these kinds of stories. But this post is already too long. Thanks to all of you in the fandom who have created art and narrative that have kept me coming back for more, and not feeling so alone in the pandemic. We are a mighty little community!

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mollyollypuddingpolly · 3 years

Text

Home For Christmas

Anne and Gilbert

A/N : I began writing this way before Christmas, I don't know why a was in a Christmas-y mood this summer but anyways I thought it turned out good enough to post.

---

He'd told her he'd only be home two days before Christmas. He told her it was the only ticket he could get because he had been so busy studying for finals that he forgot. She was disappointed, but didn't let that show in her letters. The last few times she has seen him where in two day intervals when she ventured up to Toronto on a free weekend, so she had hoped for much longer. Of course the break continued after Christmas, but his classes resumed early, so they couldn't even ring in the new year together.

Anne decided she'd make the most of her time before he arrived, spending it with Marilla and Mathew so when he did come she could spend more with him without feeling guilty of neglecting her family through the holidays. Of course, they'd share Christmas dinner together. A tradition since Bash joined Gilbert at the Blythe farm.

Anne and the other girls stepped on to the snow dusted platform and pulled their coats tighter across themselves as the warmth from the train gave way to the chilly December air.

Anne smiled, remembering her first time standing on the platform. She glance at the small bench where she once sat, eagerly awaiting what would become her home. As the train cleared the station, She spotted the cherry tree now not white with bloom but with snow. Still beautiful and breathtaking. Pure white amongst many evergreens. Still a bride, she thought and a warmth filled her cheeks when her brain reminded her, you'll be a bride someday after all Anne. And what an adventure that will be. She shook her head to clear away the thought, still plenty of time before that of course.

"Anne!" Diana's voice pulled her from her thoughts, she turned toward the sound and noticed Diana had already approached her parents who had offered to bring Anne home too. She quickly made up the distance, allowed Diana's father to take her bag and climbed into the carriage.

"What ever had you so preoccupied?" Diana asked with an raised brow. Anne smiled sheepishly.

"I was just remembering the first time I got off at this platform. When Mathew picked me up and didn't have the heart to tell me they'd sent for a boy," Diana smiled and took Anne's gloved hand.

"And I am forever grateful to him for doing so," She said. Anne hummed with a smile, "Just think, if you'd been sent back not only would you and I never have met, but I'd be in Paris being 'finished'," she said saying the last word with such distaste she she received a sour look from her mother next to her. Anne only smiled, she could only imagine where she'd be if the Cuthberts hadn't kept her, and her imagination could come up with some horrifying possible alternatives.

To keep her mind off that she looked at the passing scenery. Snow had fallen the night before, just enough to give the fields a soft cover but not cause difficulty along the roads. She inhaled the cold air and exhaled watching her foggy breath disappear into the winds. She gazed at the lake of shinning waters, it's beauty enhanced by it's now glistening frozen surface. And she held her breath when the crossed the bridge, as she always did because her imagination didn't often like to let her think crossing one wouldn't end in tradgedy.

The carriage slowed as it approached the gate of Green Gables. Anne's heart jumped at the sight of her home. She hadn't been to visit recently due to spending her free time preparing for finals, but now she was home. And there was nothing that could make her happier.

Or almost nothing.

Anne walked towards the front door, which flew open before she reached it. Mathew stood, arms outstretched, which she willingly jumped into. Dropping her bag onto the wooden deck. He squeezed her tight and she breathed in the warm smell of a wood fire on him. Then he picked up her bag and led her inside.

"Marilla!" Anne said, walking into the kitchen. Marilla stood inspecting a tea cup. Which she quickly set down at the sound of her name. She turned to her Anne and beamed before pulling her in as well.

"Oh how we've missed you!" She said, then more sternly, " I trust that you did well in your exams."

Marilla leaned back, her hands still resting on Anne's shoulders.

"I believe I did, we get our results when we return," She said. Marilla nodded asking about Diana and the other girls before Mathew spoke up once more.

"Well we best get you set up in your room, I can carry up your bag," he offered, halfway to the steps.

"Nonsense," Marilla said quickly with a sharp look at Mathew, "Anne can carry her bag up herself," Mathew nodded suddenly.

"Right, here you are then," He said passing her the bag. Anne looked at the two quizzically.

"Okay… just let me take my jacket and scarf off first," she said, setting the bag down again. The two nodded, smiles plastered on there face. Anne looked at them with narrow eyes before turning back out into the hall.

She took the steps slowly, taking in the comfort of being back home. She remebered again her first day at Green Gables, she was too upset then to enjoy her walk down the simple hallway, but now this was a place filled with memories. Like the time she and Diana had raced up the steps giggling about bosoms before getting in terrible trouble that almost forced them to stop being friends. When Ruby Gilis had to stay with the Cuthberts after her house burnt down. And Anne finally made a second friend. When she realized she did love Gilbert and raced down the steps and to his house, but then thought she was too late. Caught up in her thoughts, she almost didn't notice that her bedroom door was slightly open.

Almost.

She shrugged, Marilla probably left it open after dusting. She pushed open the door, excited to see her simple, cozy room after the long train ride. But when the door pushed back her heart leapt with joy, and it wasn't over her small, comfortable bed.

"GILBERT BLYTHE, YOU DEVIL!" She hollared, tossing her bag and running into his arms with a grin. He grinned back and laughed as he squeezed her tightly.

Anne wouldn't know it, but down stairs Mathew and Marilla were giving each other a knowing smile.

She leaned back before diving back in, this time their lips met, his arms twist up her back, her finding solace in his hair. A chill went up her back every time they kissed and her face turned warm. She couldn't help but smile into the kiss as did he, she pulled back unable to contain her laughter, instead resting her forehead on his.

"What are you doing here? You said you couldn't get in untill the 23rd!" She said, her arms at rest on his shoulders. He adjusted his around her waist with a cheeky smile.

"I actually got back yesterday, but I wanted to suprise you. So when you told me that you wouldn't be home untill today…" he left it off letting her fill in the rest. She pulled back, lips pierced, intending to give him a sour look, which gave way to a smile.

"You sneak! And Marilla and Mathew where in on it?" She leaned back, still in disbelief, how did you convince Marilla to let you up here she thought but didn't ask. He smiled.

"They were, and so was Diana. I had to make sure you wouldn't get some funny idea of coming up to Toronto to suprise me," he said, she sucked in a breath at the thought, she wouldn't put it past fate to cause that kind of chaos.

Anne lead Gilbert downstairs, where tea and family was waiting for them.

"Bash!" Anne shouted, dropping Gilbert's hand to give the man a hug, he accepted squeezing her back tightly.

"Anne! Ah it's so good to see you! Gilbert's been here only one day and he's already talked my ear off over how much he missed you," he said as he let her go, she turned to Gilbert, smug, who suddenly seemed interested in a spot on the ground.

Anne greeted Delphine she's so big! Then everyone sat down for tea and scones.

Anne laughed when Delphine bit into a scone, smearing jam all over her face. She leaned forward and helped the small girl by whiping the corners of her mouth. Marilla was having what started out as a friendly conversation about Gilbert's studies turned into a long, explaination of all he'd learned so far, Anne commented when she could, and made a mental note to check out some medical books from Queen's when she returned so she could keep up.

It warmed her heart to see him so passionate about becoming a doctor. She remembered briefly a time when he almost gave that up, thinking the task too much for him bare. She didn't know if it was her words that day or his own self reflection that brought back his desire to purse medicine, perhaps some combination of both.

After tea, the two went for a walk through the forest. The path that she took to school untouched since the snowfall, their foot steps were the first.

"Diana isn't sure yet if she'll be aloud to continue to Redmond, but I really am excited about the idea," Anne explained, she knew he'd heard it all in her letters but something about him being here made it feel more real. " Of course, I can only go if I get the Avery Award, but everyone says I have a shot at it. Oh! And Cole has applied to an art school in Nova Scotia too! So at least I'll have one friend,"

Gilbert smiled, rubbing his thumb in circles on her hand as he held it.

"There's not a doubt in my mind that you won't win it, Anne," He said turning to look at her, she peered into his eyes. Eyes she could get lost in and had many times before, even before realizing what that meant.

"I hope so," She said, still unsure. But she wouldn't know until end of spring, so no point in worrying.

Gilbert seemed to think the same thing, taking hand he turned her around, spinning her slightly so they stood face to face, she laughed as he did it.

" I was just thinking about when we first danced together, and how we haven't had the chance to do that again,"

"Well," she said with a smile, "There isn't any music, but I do believe my imagination is more than strong enough to make up for that," she said holding out her hand and he took it, guiding her in a waltz as he hummed along to a tune he'd heard once before.

They stepped back and forth, through the clearing in the woods, as snow began to gently fall down on them. Anne looked up at Gilbert with such happiness and piece in her mind that nothing could have ruined this moment.

Nothing.

Stepping into the middle Gilbert spun Anne once more, but it was hard to tell with all the snow how safe the ground was, and catching a bit of ice, Anne slipped, falling down and taking Gilbert with her.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?" He turned to her urgently worried she'd hurt herself. But she was staring up at the sky with a smile, and when she turned to him she began to laugh, which he returned as well. They laid there, laughing for far longer than anyone in there right mind would lay in the snow. Then Gilbert laced his hand in hers and began to help her up.

"Merry Christmas, Anne," he said once they both were on two feet again.

"Merry Christmas," she replied, giving him a kiss.

#anne with an e #shirbert #awae #gilbert blythe #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #anne x gilbert #awanefanfic #fan fiction #anne with an e fan fiction #christmas fanfiction

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renxamamiya · 3 years

Text

The Sins of Your Mistakes Weigh Heavily On My Soul

A03 Link Here

My half of a tradefic with @wildcard-rumi. This is based on my Theatre of Mirrors AU and her Takuto is Ren's Dad AU, specifically on her 'Buried Memories' series.

Go have a read of her AU, it's amazing and I love it. As for people waiting for Theatre of Mirrors don't worry, I've been busy/exhausted with other personal projects and life that I haven't really got the time/motivation to write it. But I will hopefully put something out before March!

Sumire: Hello, Dr. Maruki-San Sumire: Can you come to Leblanc today? There’s something we need your help with. Sumire: It’s about Ren.

---

Takuto stared at Sumire’s message on his phone, his fingers awkwardly tapping against the hardwood that made the Leblanc counter. It had been a while since he’d met the rest of the thieves; more than a year had passed since he’d tried to force a false reality to the whole of humanity, one where there was no concept of pain, only placid happiness in which the wildest dreams had come true. It came with a price: the stagnation of humanity, one where no one had to struggle, had to fight for what they wanted. He did it out of kindness, of course; to save everyone from the pain he experienced, from the pain his son had to endure... Looking back upon his mistake, he found it ironic that his sole reason to plunge humanity in a reality of ignorant bliss was the one who unravelled his plans at the seams.

It wasn’t as if Ren didn’t have his share of anguish, yet Takuto was too aware he had condemned his son to nothing but suffering. A clumsy night in the early hours during his time in college, Ren having to grow up without a traditional, nuclear family... Him having to witness Rumi’s death, traumatized, only then to have his memories wiped... Takuto still found the memory of Ren in the hospital room hard to swallow, the time where he’d used his Persona’s powers to alter reality, to make him happy. Reflecting upon it with his changed heart, he now realised that his good intentions would have led humanity into a Hellish existence; though he didn’t regret it one bit as he wouldn’t have reunited with his son in the first place.

He nestled the cup of coffee he had close to him, taking a sip from it, savouring the complex flavours intertwined with the tangy bitterness of the roast. Sakura-san had kindly brewed a cup for him to enjoy before closing the shop temporarily for his meeting with Ren’s friends, Takuto graciously accepting the cup and paying for it, waiting anxiously for the group to arrive. A ring of the bell caught his attention, Takuto whipping his head to see Sumire’s eyes peering from the frames of her glasses. She smiled upon seeing him, rushing into the quiet cafe followed by the other thieves before giving him a quick bow, “Good morning, Maruki-sensei,” she greeted, and Takuto laughed at her extreme politeness.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Yoshizawa-san,” Maruki laughed, “I’m not your teacher anymore, and I did come here because you asked, after all,”

He looked over to the rest of the group, the thieves minus Sumire sitting in the booths, their faces solemn as they looked away from his gaze. Takuto frowned; he had spotted Morgana quietly curled on Haru’s lap, the girl running her fingers in his fur absent-mindedly, looking worried at the cat with worry. Another sweep of the room with his eyes, distress welling inside him. Before Sumire could even speak, having noticed his panicked expression he asked out loud to the room: “Where’s Ren? Has something happened to him?”

“That’s... what we want to talk to you about,” Makoto said, yet she found it hard to look Takuto in the eyes. The feeling of unease between the thieves grew between them, the worried glances they exchanged only made him more anxious.

“What happened? Is he okay?” he stuttered, jumping from his seat, “Did he get into some sort of trouble? Is he in danger?” Each time he asked them the group winced, Sumire’s cheerful expression evaporated as she watched Takuto beg for any sort of information, each question curling the corners of her frown deeper on her face, “I need to know, please tell me: what is going on?”

“It’s... hard to say,” Ann replied to his plea, “It... he...”

“Ren’s gotta Palace,” Ryuji huffed, stoic at Takuto’s shocked reaction, “We’ve been infiltration’ it for some time now,”

“He has a Palace?!” Takuto’s eyes widened, shocked at this revelation, “W-when did he get one? Does that mean that world... the Metaverse came back? How-”

“We don’t know,” Makoto tried her best in answering him, her voice understanding at his floundering confusion, “We don’t know when the Palace had been formed, but when it did fully form it brought back the Metaverse with it,”

“And Mementos too,” Futaba added, “The whole thing, and his Shadow has been manipulating it too for his own goals,”

“Just like...” Takuto swallowed, still bewildered at this newfound knowledge, “But why? Do any of you know?”

“He has mentioned a performance of some kind,” Yusuke said, “One ‘of a lifetime’, it isn’t wrong to suspect his plans with Mementos had something to do with it,”

“Have you noticed something with the public, Maruki-san?” Haru asked him, her expression curious, “We’ve been noticing ourselves the renewed interest in the Phantom Thieves out in public, even selling Phantom Thief merchandise again,”

“I... I have,” Takuto swallowed, loosening the buttons of his coat, his hands shaking in the warm air of the cafe, “I’ve heard things on the radio about the Phantom Thieves; passengers would always mention about them to me, but I always thought it was because of the anniversary of your first heist that brought interest back. Kamoshida, right?”

Ryuji and Ann cringed at the mention of Kamoshida, Takuto immediately regretting his words, “S-so anyway, where is Ren? He has a Palace, but I assume-”

“He’s trapped inside of it,” Takuto whipped his head to look at the cat, Morgana, rising from his listless nap upon Haru’s lap to talk to him, “For some reason his shadow’s keeping him in there. No idea why, but what we do know is that he’s kept at the top floor,”

“Trapped inside...” Takuto repeated under his breath, rolling the words on his tongue as he tried desperately to even comprehend the situation. Heavy silence soon fell amongst the group. Takuto bit his lip, was he the one who caused this?

Makoto cleared her throat, snapping the room back into attention “There’s a vital area of the Palace he refuses to open up for any of us, Takuto. Anyone but you, that is, according to his shadow,”

Takuto looked at her in thought, contemplating her words, they churned in his mind. He looked at the polished floor of the cafe, his lips pursed. He curled his fingers into a fist, his chest tightened, Takuto blinking the tears from his eyes as they arose.

He looked back up at the thieves, their eyes filled with hope, pleading for him to assist them in saving his son.

“Alright, I’ll go with you to his Palace; Ren’s Palace,” he said.

---

“Is this?”

Takuto gazed at the foyer before him, watching the humanoid cognitions before him, all of them chatting to and fro, paying no mind to the thieves, all of them wearing masks. Light from the scarlet day of the outside shone wonderfully through the stained-glass windows. He gazed uneasily at the statue that nestled itself between the two ascending stairs, gulping down the stress and anxiety he felt, staring at an uncharacteristically pompous statue of his son.

“The Palace is becoming more unstable with each trial we complete,” Goro informed him, Takuto still bewildered by the mere fact that he was alive, and more importantly, helping the thieves with their infiltration, “I’d advise you to keep your wits and do whatever the shadow wants you to do, we can’t risk it prematurely collapsing,”

Takuto nodded, intimidated by the former detective, barely hiding the disdain he felt towards the former councillor. He had almost condemned the entirety of reality to one of false bliss, forcing his wants onto the entirety of reality. He also understood Goro still felt bitter towards him with erasing Ren’s memories, making him suffer, the infallible leader a mess in the confrontation of his recollections, having no way to cope with any of them. Sure, he had come out on top of them, able to power through his relieved anguish of losing Rumi, of losing his father, of having to witness her...

“It certainly has seen better days,” the bespectacled man sighed. He could still see signs of grandiose and luxury in the untended chaos of the tatters and scratches that accented each curtain and carpet, as if abandoned and allowed to rot with time. A part of him still wanted to deny the sight before him, still rationalised that nothing about this was real, that his son was back in reality, that he was safe, that this was some sick prank conjured up by his friends.

All those wishful thoughts Takuto had mustered quickly dashed when he saw the figure stood before them. Waiting.

“-And remember, refer to him as Joker, not Ren,” Goro hissed in his ear, “All we can do is appease him unless... well, I don’t suppose you’d like to end up as a corpse, would you?”

“I- Thank you, Akechi-san,” Takuto gulped, nodding in acknowledgement of Goro’s warning before turning towards his son. Though they were meters apart it felt like they were looking across the maw of a canyon. With a step, and then another, Takuto walked towards his son.

“Hello, dad,”

“Hello, Joker,” Takuto responded to the shadow’s greeting, already unnerved by his eyes, no longer grey but golden. Was this a shadow his friends constantly mentioned about, the dark, repressed side of the individual? Takuto had never gotten a chance to meet such a being, the ruler of his own distortions, he was the one who sat atop of his warped heart, ruling them with a gentle hand. He had his familiar outfit on, his will of rebellion, Takuto recalling seeing it when the thieves confronted him to change his heart. Though it was the differences that unsettled him: his dapper vest shining in scarlet red, his mask, black and golden, greatly increased the eerie glow of his eyes, “You wanted to see me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to see my own father,” Joker said, words dripping with sarcasm, “It’s been a while since we last sat down and talked, I’m really starting to miss it a lot,”

“Likewise?” Takuto said cautiously, fearful of what the shadow’ll do to him if he misspoke, “I would like to spend some time catching up with you, if that is your reason for summoning me of course,”

“It was! You know me so well, father,” Joker smiled, and hand raised and the click of his fingers, a door swung open among the foyer, “Come, come with me, we have a lot to talk about I’m sure,”

---

The theatre room led him into nothing but a featureless void Takuto discovered, empty as if he was transported to another world. The Phantom Thieves, Ren’s friends, did warn him about the possible dangers that he had to face, Takuto still willing to plunge into whatever trial Ren - Joker - wanted him to face. The shadow unnerved him yes; he reasoned that anyone would be uncomfortable with the confrontation with the shadow of a loved one, their dark, inner thoughts giving shape in a distorted environment. A ‘Palace’ the thieves called it. Walking in the directionless void he hoped deeply his knowledge of the Metaverse could aid him in whatever Joker wanted him to endure. He had to save his son from himself, and this time he wasn’t going to run away from him, Takuto told himself.

“Daddy?”

Takuto’s heart jumped in his throat, him turning instinctively towards the sound of a child whimpering in the darkness. The voice was familiar, too familiar, a beacon that guided Takuto in the dark, or a lure to ensnare him into the jaws of his doom, Takuto rushing towards it with haste all the same.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

“Ren!” Takuto shouted, clambering toward the terrified child, tripping on his own feet with every other stride he took in a desperate, maddened haste to reach his crying son. He didn’t consider the possibility of the apparition of his crying son to be a trap, only instinct carried him forward until he approached the small cognition.

Grey, watery eyes full of innocence stared back at him, the small form of Ren clutching tightly onto a distinct plush of a cat. Takuto’s heart melted as he knelt to his level to address the boy, to show him that he meant no harm, the boy shying away into the fur of his toy.

“I’m here for you, Ren,” Takuto cooed, reaching out his arms towards the frightened boy. The young Ren stopped his crying. He looked at Takuto’s inviting, outstretched arms; and then at him, Takuto gave him a smile that radiated safety and love.

“Who-who are you?” from the stuttering, fearful cognition was the reaction that Takuto did not expect, his face falling in confusion, his bemusement matched with the smaller Ren that stared blankly back at him. Takuto tenderly brushed the mess of hair away from Ren’s eyes.

“I-I’m your dad,” Takuto said reassuringly, yet the cracks of his tone betrayed the melancholic feelings that welled inside of him. To see those grey eyes gaze upon him, wide and curious and with wholly innocence broke his heart, “There’s no need to be scared, Ren. I’m here now, I’ll protect you,”

Young Ren looked at him, slightly backing away from the unfamiliar, familiar man in front of him, “I... I don’t... I don’t remember, if you’re my dad I don’t remember you! I don’t-”

“Hey, calm down,” Takuto said, yet he respected the distance Ren had put between them, “It’s alright to forget sometimes, which is why we need others to help us remember,”

“I-”

“Do you trust me, Ren?” Takuto asked the frightened child. Young Ren looked at him hesitantly, clutching the stuffed toy in his arms closer against his chest. He looked down onto the floor, pausing in contemplation.

“I... Guess so,” Young Ren mumbled shyly, eyes flickering between the floor and Takuto that reminded the bespectacled man so much about Ren in his younger years. He gestured for the child to sit down in front of him, Young Ren doing so obediently, the both of them folding their legs as they sat cross-legged on the murky floor.

“Now, do you remember anything about your father?” Takuto asked, adopting a more professional persona with inquiring the boy, “Anything at all?”

“Well, I think he wears glasses,” Young Ren started, curling his small thumb and finger before holding them up to his face, peering into the holes he had made with his hands, “They’re really big on his face. He wears them a lot, and I barely see him take them off,”

“That’s good, what else do you remember?” Takuto asks, amazed at Ren’s recollection, the boy knitting his eyebrows in concentration.

“And... He had brown hair,” Ren recalled, his hands moving to his head, “Brown hair that was really long and wavy, but not too long like a girl’s. He also had brown eyes... and...”

“And?”

“He would watch Featherman with me,” Ren said, “Every Saturday, he would wake up just to watch Featherman with me. I would always ask which Featherman he liked the best a-and he would ask me who was mine, and it was-”

“Featherman Red,” Takuto finished, Young Ren’s eyes widening, “I remember. I’ve always remembered,”

“A-and,” Ren continued, his cheeks slightly flushed against his skin, “I remember whenever he came home he would always bring apples! He’s not good at cooking them, but I didn’t mind eating them anyway, because he would always bring home the really tasty ones,”

And the child continued his recollection, Takuto’s small smile that sat on his lips grew a little wider with each detail Ren managed to recall, the excitement in his eyes growing more and more, and Takuto wondered if the child was even aware of how much he recalled. Yet whenever Takuto asked for the child of his father’s name he merely blinked at Takuto.

“I don’t remember my daddy’s name,” Young Ren shook his head, his disappointment reflecting Takuto’s, “I’m trying really hard, I am!”

“I know you are,” Takuto sighed, resting a hand upon his shoulder, giving the small child a reassuring smile. Yet, as defiant as his grown-up self, Young Ren shook his hand away.

“But, there’s one name I do remember.” Young Ren mumbled under his breath. Takuto’s eyes widened, a sudden drop of water dropped upon his head. Carefully reaching over the moist patch of his hair he looked at his fingers. Nothing. He looked up. Only the black that characterized their surroundings present. He turned to look back at the boy.

“What name is it?” Takuto asked, Young Ren squeezed his eyes shut.

“I... it’s someone close to dad,” he mumbled. More droplets of phantom liquid dripped upon him, “Someone... I.... don’t remember,” The child began to panic, “I... I can’t remember it anymore. I can’t, I’m-”

“There, there,” Takuto cooed, brushing away Ren’s tears, ignoring the storming of the invisible rain on his person that only increased in ferocity, “It’s okay. Just do like what we did with your dad, okay?”

“O-okay,” Young Ren said, trying hard to salvage a mask of bravery, looking at Takuto with red, blotched eyes “I mean... I don’t have a lot of memories of her...”

“Her..?” Takuto feared he knew who the young boy was referring to, the invisible storm now pouring magnitudes onto him, unrelenting, the liquid thumping hard against his frame, his hearing starting to be muffled by the roar of rushing water, “Ren, maybe we should-”

“She had big eyes-” Young Ren began to recite, Takuto grabbing tightly onto his shoulders, his pleas for the boy to stop falling on death ears.

“-and she was smart, and nice-” Young Ren continued, oblivious to the panicking Takuto that desperately pleaded with him to stop.

It smelled. Everything smelled rancid, like something rotten, something foul, something metallic. But it was as if Ren was painfully unaware of the speckles of red splattered on his face.

“-and, and she had red hair!”

Takuto recognised the expression the young boy suddenly snapped into, grey eyes once filled with ignorance now watered with fear and distress. The memories of the break-in, the blood, the red. The child stumbled back away from Takuto, both of them shocked that the ground seemed to ripple under them.

“Ren!” was all Takuto could utter until a shrill shriek spilled from Ren’s lips. More blood dripped down from the sky, the child turned and tripped against his feet and fell onto the ground. Takuto reached for Ren but stopped.

Rumi. Rumi was in the reflection, so many copies of her, eye wide and afraid, blood gushing from her red locks, Takuto speechless, the only sound coming from his lips were the terrified whimpers that bubbled up from his tight throat. He too soon stumbled onto his knees, his own distressed reflection mirrored back at him, Takuto’s traumatic expression staring back at him among the mosaic of Rumi’s last moments. He dared not to look at the scene above him.

“Subject one is asleep and well, Dr Maruki,”

“Was the actualisation successful?” his voice rang in his ears. Takuto blinked his watering eyes, adjusting his vision to the spotless white tiles that made up the room. The familiar, sterile smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils, Takuto barely making out the sweetness of forgotten flowers in bouquets that splashed colour among the featureless wall. He allowed himself time to collect himself; he looked at his hands, bloodless yet he swore he could still feel the liquid staining his hands.

“Yes, Dr Maruki,” the unfamiliar voice rang out. Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat, allowing himself to collect his composure and strength before he stumbled onto his feet with great effort.

Suddenly he found himself in a chair, gazing at the two figures looking over a sleeping child. One was a faceless nurse, writing on a clipboard as she talked. The other was himself, “There seemed to be no complications with the procedure,” the nurse continued, the reflection of Takuto reaching down absent-mindedly to stroke the sleeping Ren’s hair, “He should be waking up at any moment,”

“Thank you,” the other Takuto smiled, “You may go now,”

The nurse nodded before dissipating into a thin cloud of smoke, the other Takuto sighing before turning to the sitting Takuto, looking at him soberly.

“It was...” Takuto croaked, the guilt of his past mistake tightening in his stomach, “I just wanted...”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the other Takuto said quietly, turning back to the sleeping form of Ren, white-gloved hands coiling around strands of black hair. Flashes of memories flickered from within Takuto’s vision. How his son’s face contorted in anguish at the recollection of memories, how desperate he was to forget, willing to battle his friends to preserve his own ignorance, the lingering gazes, hauntings of his own psychological pain that echoed from within his own eyes, “He’s such a strong child, even when staring at the face of danger he still puts on a brave face,”

“Yeah, he really-” he feels something wrapping tightly around Takuto’s wrists. He looked down; blackish-blue tendrils slid across his skin. Panic rises from his chest and tightens his throat; he struggles against the grip of the monster binding him.

“There’s one more thing I need to get rid of,” the other Takuto murmured, Takuto futilely thrashing against Azathoth’s hold. The cognitive double approached him; eyes unblinking under the thick frames of his glasses as he watched Takuto struggle against the cognitive Persona. A click of his fingers, and the tendrils encompassed all of Takuto’s body other than his face, “This is for my patient, for my son,”

“You’re making a mistake!” Takuto’s voice cracked, his appeals to his cognitive double fruitless as he saw him snap his fingers. He felt himself pulled down by the otherwise unseen demon, his feet slowly sinking into the floor, the cognitive Takuto watching him disappear with a blank face.

“This is for his own good,” the cognitive Takuto said absolutely, his expression unmoving while he watched Takuto sink into the ground, “He needs to forget, he needs to be unburdened by the memories of her death, and that includes removing you from his life,”

“But-”

“It’s the only way,” the cognition repeated to him, the scenery around him going monochrome, the doubles skin growing paler before everything started to fade into white “We both know it’s the right way,”

“We...” Takuto croaked through the tears that started to well in the corners of his eyes, trying desperately to blink them away, tearing his eyes from his cognitive double in shame, “I was... I was foolish to think that. All it did was cause Ren and I suffering...”

The cognition said nothing.

“I should have been there for him...” he choked, the tentacles that wrapped around him grew ever tighter, “But I was a coward. I-”

He turned his head to see nothing. Featureless white. His throat tightened. There was nothing; he was stuck, yet the tendrils continued to drag him down, deeper and deeper, his breaths quickened, he was panicking, fidgeting against his bonds. It was too much, he was growing increasingly fatigued, he needed to escape, he-

“Daddy?”

Ren’s confused voice rang out, and Takuto quickly lost consciousness, his vision turning black.

---

“-he the next patient?” a voice rang out from the fringes of his consciousness, so familiar to his ears. His eyelids were heavy. Takuto wanted to sleep.

“Yes, Dr Am-” another voice accompanied the stranger. His mouth was dry. He felt sick.

“-ki, Takuto,” the first voice chuckled, Takuto dragging himself from his uncomfortable slumber, wincing in pain at the bright light that assaulted his vision.

“Who... who are-?”

Takuto jolted awake in alarm. The voice... was Ren, the grey eyes of his son looking at him, tired and heavy. His hair was slicked back neatly, his outfit a white, spotless suit, his shirt collar propped neatly around his neck. “Where am I?”

“You’re in good hands, Mr Maruki,” Ren smiled at him. It unnerved Takuto; Ren’s eyes shimmering yet empty, the curl of his lips rehearsed and forced, his voice too calm for the situation they both found themselves in, “Don’t worry. Soon your troubles will all disappear,”

Ren’s words did nothing to soothe Takuto. He looked down to where he currently sat, a white throne under him. Takuto paled.

“Patient seems to be distressed due to the loss of his son,” Ren spoke, snapping his fingers to the same featureless nurse from before, who then handed him a clipboard, “unforeseen circumstances; it seemed that the little one had died during a failed robbery-”

Ren fiddled his hair in thought, tucking a stray strand behind his ear before continuing, “Patient seems to be in great psychological pain. Advisory procedure includes amnesia brought upon by actual-”

“Ren, please don’t,” Takuto cried, shaking his head furiously, “Please stop this madness, you’re making a-”

“Nurse, please make sure our patient here is secure!” Ren ordered the cognition, it nodded its head before lunging towards Takuto, its limbs sprouting from its form before pinning Takuto on the throne.

“Please, Mr Maruki,” Ren begged the thrashing Takuto, “Just calm down. I don’t want to cause you any more distress, the redhead was already enough trouble to treat,”

“Ren wait plea-”

A snap of his fingers. The entire amphitheatre rumbled violently, a great figure rose from behind Ren’s determined form, its golden skin and green eyes glowing in the light. Takuto sat there petrified, his mouth hung agape, his body quaked in fear, eyes wide as his forehead perspired with sweat, his mouth dry, his heart thumped with sickening speed, only able to hear it thrash in his chest as he gazed up upon the Persona who stared back at him with its unmoving face.

“Adam Kadmon,” Ren uttered his name, “You know what to do,”

A click of his gloved fingers, and Takuto’s vision was once more engulfed into black. ---

His brown eyes flickered open once more. Takuto rested his head on the featureless floor. He was back to where he started, the weird ethereal voice that Joker- no- his son had sent him to face the trial he so desperately wanted Takuto to endure. He wanted to go home, he wanted this madness to stop; he rose from the blackness, seeing that he was now palming wood, the walls surrounded him painted black while fluorescent light hung above his head.

“Was this...” he mumbled, yet the clicking of familiar heels made him snap to attention, hastily scrambling up to his feet, the shadow of his son walking towards him with hands in his pockets, golden eyes transfixed intently, emerging from the shadows of the empty room, him using his will upon the Palace they were currently in to convey his dramatic aura with persistent intimidation.

“Did you have fun, father?” Joker seethed, tongue rolling with each syllable as if the words were bitter to the taste. He looked pleased with himself, claiming his victory over his father, looking down at him with scorn, yet Takuto could see the agony that brewed in him by the quiver of his bottom lip, “I sure did, watching you flounder like that,”

“Was all of that how you truly felt?” Takuto meekly asked, watching how Joker swaggered towards him, avoiding the rhetorical inquiry from the shadow, “Everything I put you through... did you suffer that much?”

Takuto didn’t like how the corners of Joker’s mouth tugged higher, how his smile grew wider, thinner, his golden irises quivering in delight, how the white in his engulfed everything. Joker said nothing, his strides widening, Takuto’s feet firmly planted onto the floor.

“I-”

“The things I had to endure,” Joker roared, his expression unmoving yet his voice quaked with rage ill-fitting of the mask he wore, “The fights between my adopted parents, the stares and whispers I’d get from my classmates, the anguish I had to endure once I remembered. I kept-”

Joker’s facade slightly cracked, lines on his face, as if it were porcelain.

“I had nightmares” he cried, voice breaking, yet he betrayed no tears, “Nightmares from that day, seeing things that I couldn’t explain, seeing her dead, the blood... I always woke up in a cold sweat, never remembering why I was crying, I-”

Joker inched his face closer to Takuto’s with each word, stretching himself further upward, standing on the soles of his boots. What he didn’t expect from his rant was the arms that wrapped around him, the shadow pulled from his taunt into a comforting embrace, Takuto’s hand snaked to comb the strands of his unruly hair. Joker’s expression transitioned one from hate into befuddlement, feeling something hot drip down onto his grand, black coat.

“I’m sorry,” Takuto choked, bringing him in closer, undeterred by the mask poking painfully in his neck, “I’m sorry,” he repeated, grasping his son’s hair, palming it with long, tender strokes, “I couldn’t bear to look at you, you didn’t move, didn’t speak, I wanted you to get better, I thought-”

Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat. He felt Joker’s body in his arms slump slightly, his head resting on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,”

The shadow said nothing, merely allowing himself to be held, his body limp, small heaves escaped from his throat every so often.

“Please, let us help you, Ren-”

The shadow snapped to attention, a hand around the scruff of Takuto’s jacket collar, tearing him away from the embrace they were locked in. In his shock, Takuto tried to escape from the grasp of the invisible assailant, only able to by slipping from the article of clothing, stumbling forward and running back to the hunched shadow, Joker’s gloved hands hiding his face. Yet as he got closer something stopped his advance; he collided into something, hard, yelping in agony as he clutched his nose, blinking to see that there was nothing in between them.

“You don’t get it, do you?” the shadow laughed while Takuto pressed his hands at the unseen barrier between them, the sound hollow, no joy in his words, “None of you do,”

The sound of trickling water filled the room, red swirled below Joker’s boots, Takuto confused and scared at the sight before him. It was like... It was like... “I’m going to make everything better,” Joker continued, peaking through the gap of his splayed hand on his face, “Heaven is nothing but a lie; I’m going to make a place where desires can truly be realised,”

“Ren, you don’t have to do this! Please,” Takuto begged, the red liquid rising rapidly up towards Joker’s hunched body, the shadow glaring at Takuto’s fearful form, “You’re making a mistake, Ren, don’t make the same mistake I did,”

“Of course I won’t,” Joker smiled as he stood up straight, the waters still rising, his facade perfect yet again, the calm on his face appearing so sudden that it terrified Takuto how easily Joker was able to slip back into calm, “I know a way to make them obey, all of them,”

“Is it true? Are you using-” the water was now up to his waist, Joker unfazed by the liquid slowly drowning him.

“A trickster never reveals his tricks,” Joker laughed, licking his lips while he watched Takuto squirm, “Not like I’ll tell you... any of you. You’ll just make everything more complicated, you’ll ruin all my plans, and the worst thing is the realisation that none of you care,”

“You’re destroying yourself in the process,” Takuto begged, his hands pressing against the glass, “Your friends have told me everything, each day your mental state is decaying further, this place is collapsing in upon itself. You’re losing yourself, Ren-”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT NAME,” Joker screeched, banging two of his fists onto the invisible barrier between them, Takuto clumsily stumbling back with shock, “I am not Ren, I’m not him, I am better, HIS better!” the red was now at his neck, the room shaking with invisible fury, “I will never go back to being him, Maruki, and you should realise that by now,”

“Ren-”

But it was too late, the shadow fully submerged in the red liquid, seemingly gone. Panic engulfed Takuto, him now thumping against the glass with his hands rolled into fists, desperate to save his son from the other side, “Ren!” he called out to no avail, continuing to pound against the barrier before him.

A subtle crack, and then another, then another. Takuto heard the trickling of water before he saw it, red liquid now bursting through the dam separating him and his son, the cascade of water spilling out like dominoes, and it wasn’t long for the barrier to completely break, the red torrent sweeping everything in his path up in its tide, taking Takuto with it.

---

A low rumble came from behind the theatre door, the thieves emerging from another one of Joker’s trials pitted against them, it swung from its hinges with Takuto being thrown outside of the room. He landed with an ‘oomph’ onto the carpeted floor, the group running towards him in shock and worry, though they could barely see a visible scratch on him.

“Maruki-san!” Sumire was the first to rush to his aid, kneeling next to the dazed brunette, blue flames dissipating her mask while her hands glowing with the familiar green of Diarahan, “Are you okay, are you hurt, what happened?”

“I’ll, I’ll be fine,” Takuto assured her gently dismissing her, trying hard to amass the strength to stand up on his own two feet, “I just... I just need a moment,”

“You don’t look fine,” Haru pointed out softly, “Are you sure you don’t need to rest? You look like you’ve been through a lot,”

“If it’s anything like the trials we have to endure, I’m surprised he came out unscathed,” Yusuke mumbled out loud, “Though then again, Ren is his son...”

“I didn’t do anything too taxing, haha,” Takuto weakly laughed, giving the thieves an unconvincing, weak smile, “It was... it was...”

His smile faded, his facade melted, looking down at the faded carpet below him, “I... I didn’t realise fully the pain I put him through,” he said, almost whispering, “He was suffering all that time. It’s my fault-”

“It isn’t your fault though,” Ann said earning perplexed looks from the thieves and an unamused glare from Goro, “I- I mean, it’s not just you who’s at fault here, Dr. Maruki,” she clarified, “I think we each all have something to do with making Ren’s Palace appear. We’re at fault too,”

“Yeah, it’s not like you were doin’ it for bad purposes too,” Ryuji interjected, “I mean, you did what you thought was right, right?”

“All of you are too forgiving,” Goro muttered.

Without warning the Palace started to quake, everyone thrown off from their feet as the walls started to shake, the chandeliers suspended above their heads rattling amongst the thundering rumble that consumed the premises.

“W-Why is the Palace acting up now?!” Morgana squeaked before falling onto his back, the others struggling to keep their balance, “I thought-”

“Ren’s not looking too good!” Futaba squeaked, fiddling and adjusting her headset as she looked over the information displayed by her Persona, “His vitals are falling fast!”

But Takuto didn’t pay attention to the panicked chatter of the thieves, looking down at his hands, mortified how the dull colour of the red carpet below his hands faded even further into a rotten brown. Lights flickered around him from above. It was a nightmare, the cognitive patrons screaming. He felt something small and dust-like trickle against his back.

The quake went as sudden as it came, the roar fading into deathly silent once more. Takuto peaked out from under his huddled hands that shielded him from above, eyes darting from side to side in a panic.

“W-what happened?” he asked the thieves who were trying to regain their footing, though he already suspected the answer.

“Ren’s getting worse,” Makoto answered his rhetorical question, and Takuto’s face flushed with dread. She looked at him, her eyes sympathetic behind her mask, “You should get out of here, it isn’t safe for you,”

“You’re... you’re right,” he sighed defeated, aware that if he had accompanied further than necessary, he would be nothing but dead weight. He didn’t have a Persona, no way to support the rest of the group within or outside of battles, sure to get in their way. He hung his head in defeat, carefully picking himself up from the floor, “Just... just make sure you do everything you can to save him... alright? He’s... he’s all I have left,”

The thieves nodded in response, yet their expressions conveyed the apprehensive outcome of their endeavour.

---

Ren said nothing, merely watched his shadow wandering throughout the grand space of the dressing room. His path was directionless, absent-mindedly walking in loops, circling the furniture, his stare unfocused and distant.

“Why?” was all Ren could ask, baffled by his own shadow, “Why do you keep lashing out?”

“He deserved it,” Joker reasoned, continuing his purposeless pace, the other cognitions that normally served him purposely out of sight, “They all do, Ren, why don’t you see that?”

“They don’t, they don’t, Joker,” Ren said, and Joker laughed bitterly, “You’re hurting them. You’re hurting the people I- we-”

“Did WE deserve what happened to us!?” Joker snapped at Ren, turning to him, venom in his expression, “Did WE deserve to forget Mom? To get carted off to someone else just like property, to have to endure our adopted parents and their wrath to only be thrown by the wayside, to have our father, LIE to us, to be USED by him for his actualization? DID we!? DID WE?!”

“Joke-”

“HE ABANDONED US!” Joker shrieked; the walls of the Palace quaked around him. His golden eyes welled with tears, pulsating with anguish and bitterness, “HE USED US AS A- A- A SICK GUINEA PIG! I am SICK of being used as a- as a- a- an OBJECT! Like I’m NOTHING!”

“Joker-”

“Stop denying that you feel this way,” the shadow squeaked, his red fingers intertwined in his black, dishevelled locks, “Stop it! It’s hopeless, Ren, you know that deep inside you don’t want to understand, you don’t want to forgive. That bastard-” another sob escaped from his throat, Joker choking on his tears and disgust, a familiar swell of power coursing through his being. Another shaky sigh. He could feel Ren finally coming to his senses, his lips curling upwards from the corners of his mouth, yet he barely felt any joy as he continued, “He’ll soon pay. They’ll all soon pay, and I’ll make sure that they’ll regret what they did to us.”

---

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can’t help with?”

Takuto looked at Sumire, she and Goro the only ones escorting Takuto onto the edges of the Palace’s domain. A weak, tired smile he wore as he shook his head, “I’ll be nothing but dead weight, Yoshizawa, and it looks like you all have everything under control,”

“At least we agree on something,” Goro hissed, arms crossed as he leaned his weight on one of his legs, “No Metaverse Powers or any standout physical strength. All you’ll be to us is a liability. Deadweight. A sitting duck-”

“I wonder why, Senpai,” Sumire pondered, “I mean, he should have his Persona at least, right?”

“I-”

“Regardless, I hope that I was able to help in some way,” Takuto interjected, tearing Sumire and Goro from their pondering, “But please... please save Ren,”

“We’re doing everything we can, Maruki-san,” Sumire nodded, “And if there’s any way you can help we’ll tell you, right, Akechi-senpai?”

“Actually, there is a way in which Maruki can help,” Goro mused, as he looked at the bespectacled man, “There something I was wondering about Joker’s plans,”

“You have my attention,”

Goro turned to look at the theatre before them. A moment passed, before he gazed back into his brown eyes, “I want you to see if there’s anything suspicious going on in the outside world, any changes at all in the public cognition. If you do, contact Yoshizawa, and she’ll contact me, am I clear?”

“Why? Are you suggesting-”

“Just do it,” Goro snapped, and without another word he turned on his heel, making his way back to the Palace. With an apology and a quick bow, Sumire too left Takuto alone at the cusp of the ethereal realm.

He watched them leave, disappearing into the Palace in front of him. His eyes trailed upwards. Towards the top floor of the accursed building, to where Ren was held against his own will by his own distorted thoughts.

“Hold on a little longer, Ren,” he croaked under his breath, unwilling to leave as he blinked the tears away from his welling eyes, “Just hold on a little longer, please.”

#persona #palace: theatre of mirrors #ren amamiya #takuto maruki #takuren au #dan's log #png #mine*#myfanfic #mywriting

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sandsofoneiros · 3 years

Text

To Capture a Heart

Disclaimer: HERE IT IS. After hearing me talk about it nonstop! I finally have it done! Now, let me address somethings. I didn’t write this with a specific time in mind. I just wanted a royalty/arranged marriage au. Yes, the planets are the names of the kingdoms and there’s kings, queens, princesses, and princes. I do recognize that Poe is a little ooc but it’ll change as the story goes on.

Warnings: There’s mentions of blood, fainting, food and kids being brats.

Pairing: Eventual Poe Dameron x OFC.

Word count: 8101.

Chapter One: Summer visits.

The first month: Yavin

Eight years old.

“Can’t believe I’m stuck with her all summer!” Poe grumbled as he fell back on his bed. His hands reaching up to cover his face as Ben peeked over at his friend. The day had finally come for the Prince of Yavin to meet his betrothed. It was a strange situation for an eight-year-old prince to meet the individual he was expected to marry one day. Ben had recently met his betrothed and had been captivated by her. There were even plans for Poe to visit Naboo when she came back. However, Poe had to make it through this summer with Princess Aurora Citlati of Cianna. He had struggled to be excited at the thought of meeting her, but he felt annoyed than anything. He didn’t know much about the kingdom of Cianna, and he wasn’t doing much to change that either. Instead, Prince Poe was declaring how much he loathed this arrangement and requested to call it off.

“I bet she doesn’t do anything fun.” Ben teased. It wasn’t often that he got to see Poe so emotional over something. The prince got away with a lot more than he should. It had been tough for Poe these last few months. His mother, Queen Shara Bey, had passed away back a few months back. It had struck Kes and Poe hard. The King had gotten distant for a period before Ben’s mother had spoken with him. Everything had been going smoothly until his father informed him about his betrothed. That had resulted in Poe attempting to run away one night.

“Be quiet. We all can’t have a wonderful betrothed like the Prince of Naboo!” Groaning, Poe rolled over and buried his face into the sheets of his bed. He didn’t wish to meet this princess, but they would be arriving soon. They had brought him the formal orange robes he was supposed to change into, but he instead stayed dressed in his more casual attire. His father had stopped by the room previously and told him to start getting ready. It didn’t make the prince move from his spot at all. How could they expect him at eight years old to meet the girl he was supposed to marry! He didn’t even pay attention to girls. He wished to go on adventures and experience the world that lied beyond Yavin. There had to be more to his life than just his princely obligations that held him here.

“Well, you don’t have much time left because I think she’s already here,” Ben spoke as he peered out Poe’s window. He watched as the Citlali family appeared to make their way into the castle, the guards helping with all their belongings. “Poe? You probably need to get ready.”

The mention of the other family arriving caused his heart to drop and immediately snatched his new garments. His father wasn’t going to be thrilled if he was late. “I’ll try to stall them for you just don’t take too long, Poe. I can only think of so many things.” Ben shrugged before starting his way out of Poe’s room. The prince had never been more grateful to have a friend like Ben. They had been friends since they were babies. They had each other’s back and always managed to cause chaos for those around them. Nodding in acknowledgment, Poe started to make himself look somewhat presentable.

Aurora sighed as she followed behind her mother. Yavin wasn’t what she expected, and she was a little excited to be somewhere new. Even though the reason for the trip took most of the thrill away. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her mother’s olive gown. They were being brought to their rooms, and she took the chance to observe the castle that she would be residing in for the next three months. On the outside, it looked like a ship and everything inside was protected. The castle itself wasn’t too extravagant, which didn’t bother her. Her mom went on to talk with their handmaidens before they were greeted by the King. Ro following her mother’s lead and bowing her head to him before looking at the boy that remained beside him. Was that the prince?

He was certainly tall and quiet. This didn’t seem like the prince she had heard about and nearly missed the introduction of the Nabooian prince. She had heard about Naboo a few times and their Queen. It had been a kingdom that she wanted to visit someday. She had gone to bow to the prince before she felt someone falling into her and causing her to fall forward. The King reached out to steady her and keep her from falling. She glared at the person who had been so careless, only to be surprised when the King spoke.

“Queen Eirlys, Princess Aurora, meet my son. Prince Poe.”

Aurora’s emerald hues widened. She was expected to wed him? He beamed at everyone with the brightest grin before standing up. Kes shook his head before Poe bowed to the princess who held her hand out. Poe stared at her in confusion before glancing at his papa and Ben. He was supposed to kiss her hand. He frowned before lifting her hand and pecking it while making a face. Both of them scowled before fleeing to their parent’s side.

“I’m so happy to be here,” Ro said sweetly as she struggled not to make another face at the prince. He looked conceited.

Kes squeezed Poe’s shoulder to answer the princess, but instead, he groaned.

“So happy you could come.” Poe beamed another smile to them. Ben did his best not to snort at his friend when they stood beside each other. Poe watched while Ro wipes her hand on her dress to get rid of the evidence of the peck. He merely stuck his tongue out at her. The adults had started to walk their own way down the hall to discuss more important matters, trust the children to get along. It simply took one glance between the boys before they scurried down the corridor, leaving Ro to try and catch them. Her hands gathering up her skirts to keep her from stumbling on them.

“Pick up the pace, Poe!”

“There’s no way she can catch us!”

“Hey, wait up!”

The laughter of the boys rang throughout the castle’s hallways as the princess trailed after them. Sometimes separating to throw Ro off the trail, but she would easily turn on her heels to catch the other. It was a game that she wasn’t overly enjoying, and it was wearing her out more than the boys. They ran around the castle and its grounds for what seemed like hours before they were being called back inside to wash up and prepare for supper.

Aurora’s two braids had been redone given that they had practically fallen out from all the running around that she had been doing. Her dress changed into a dark blue dress for the dinner. It was a quiet dinner between them. Their parents talked more to each other than watching their children. Ben had sat quietly enjoying his meal until he heard Ro hiss and glance down at her legs. Poe must have been messing with her, and he was shocked when Poe pointed to him to place the blame. Ro simply glaring at them as she endured the rest of dinner. Her own legs reaching out to try to kick them. All three of them would leave dinner with bruises on their shins.

Once dinner had concluded and everybody had said goodnight, Aurora remained in her room while her mother started to undo her hair for the night. She could barely keep her eyes open as her momma brushed her hair. The traveling, playing, and a warm dinner had made her want to just crawl underneath the covers and sleep.

“I don’t like him.”

“Sweetling, you just met him today. Give him a chance.” Her mother chuckled before working the brush through her burgundy locks. She had gotten her father’s hair, and it made Eirlys smile during these moments. However, her daughter was stubborn like her. That was shining through more than anything.

“He’s rude. He was kicking me at supper! You can’t actually think he’s the one for me!” She pleaded to her mom before spinning around and sulking at her momma. This wasn’t what she had in mind when she dreamed of a prince. Poe wasn’t her ideal prince, and she suspected that he even cared for her.

“Aurora Citlali. You haven’t even tried. It’s only the first day and we have three months. At least try.”

“Fine, but you’ll see when he doesn’t try!”

“I’m confident his father will speak with him.”

Ro only huffed before crawling into her bed and letting her mother tuck her in for the night. She wasn’t going to tell Ro that she had watched them all play together and how her daughter hadn’t stopped smiling. Even the king had said this was the most laughter he had heard in a long time. The boys had mostly played pranks and caused yelling around the castle.

Both children went to bed that night accepting that their summer was going to be ruined. They were sure that they would only fight with each other. Kes and Ben had both told Poe that he needed to try. How could he try when he didn’t want to? He wanted to be a daring adventurer like his mother! He had heard the stories. She had gotten married to his father, but it wasn’t the same with Ro. She had chased them all day, but he just wanted her to go away. There was hope that maybe things would change. Maybe their parents would call this off and let them go back to their everyday lives. Still, there was some hope that maybe they would get along. Maybe they would surprise one another in the future.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yavin was known for having some of the warmest summers around, and sometimes that could lead to someone passing out from the brutal heat. Today was one of the warmest days so far, and Poe was determined to spend it at the water gardens. The water gardens were an area where the children of Yavin went to play in the cool water during the summer. Fruit trees provide not only shade but a snack for them as well if they got hungry. Ben’s face had started to turn red midway through their course, Aurora hadn’t really said anything about the heat, but sweat was forming on her brow. It was a bit of the walk from the castle to the gardens those and Poe hadn’t properly prepared them for it.

“Poe, how much longer? I think my skin is boiling…” Ben rarely whined but even Poe was starting to get impatient from the walk as well. His skin was warming up and he been wiping the sweat from his brow. His curls beginning to stick from the thin layer of sweat.

“Not too much?” He answered in uncertainty. He honestly didn’t know how long it took to get to the gardens. However, he was amazed when Aurora hadn’t said anything in the last few minutes. He expected her to have some type of remark, but what he didn’t expect was to see her falling to the ground.

She was determined not to complain. She wasn’t going to complain about the heat just for the boys to tease her. Instead, she wipes her brow with the back of her hand and continued forward. Aurora was very eager to see the water gardens that Poe had informed them about. She would surely get to play with the other children and wouldn’t be stuck with the boys all day. However, each step was starting to tire her out more than the last. It felt as if the sun had been bearing down on her the whole time. Her steps grew more sluggish, and she barely listened when the boys had stopped to talk about how much longer they had. She couldn’t help but pant just a little before darkness began to form on the edges of her vision. Ro did her best to fight it, but suddenly, she fainted. No warning to the others.

Both boys looked at her lying on the ground with pure horror. Was she dead? Neither of them knew what to do in this situation and remained silent. Kes was at the castle with Queen Eirlys. They had come without anybody else. Poe had insisted that they would be fine, and obviously, he was wrong. This was bad. “Is - Is she dead?” Ben asked before he swallowed and looked to Poe. What were they going to do? They might have unintentionally just killed the princess of Cianna.

“I don’t know! She just fell!” Poe was starting to panic and nudging her boot with his. This wasn’t good at all. Ro wasn’t responding to them, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing. There was no one around and he didn’t think there would be for some time. There was one sensible thing to do.

“We need to go get my papa. He’ll know what to do.”

Ben had nodded at the words and watched to Ro’s unconscious body. What were they supposed to do with her? They weren’t strong enough to carry her, and pulling her seemed very cruel. This entire situation was becoming more stressful the longer they waited, and it could be worse for Ro.

“Are we going to just leave her here?”

“I can’t carry her! Can you?”

Neither of the boys was confident that they could carry her back to the castle. Ben might have been taller than Poe, but that didn’t mean he was stronger. Poe already knew there was no chance that he could carry her.

“Let’s just leave her here and get papa. Then we’ll bring him back to get her.”

The boys were in accord that they would have to leave Ro and come back with Kes. No one would disturb her while she was passed out. At least that’s what Poe thought. Giving her one last look over, Poe turned to run back to the castle with Ben following behind him.

Kes had just sat down to enjoy a small break between his council when both boys stormed into his quarters. Their faces red and plainly out of breath as they struggled to tell him something, but there was someone missing. Where was the princess? Aurora had been with them when they took off earlier, but now she wasn’t there.

“Boys, boys, breathe. What’s happened? Where’s the princess?”

“POE KILLED HER!”

“WHAT? NO, I DIDN’T! Papa, she just fell! We were going to the water gardens and she fell over!”

Poe spoke as he grabbed Kes’s arm and began to pull on it. They didn’t know what Ro’s current state was, and it would be worse if she had woken up alone. She might have started wandering around and getting lost. Poe was starting to get worried as Kes went to get Aurora’s mother. He hadn’t meant to hurt her! He didn’t think she would have fainted. Eirlys hadn’t seemed too upset when Kes explained the situation to her and was eager to find her daughter. Poe hadn’t been able to look at the Queen the whole time they walked. It hadn’t taken them long to get back to where Ro was lying, still unconscious. Both adults checking over for any type of wounds before Eirlys had scooped her up to carry her. Ro had woken up for a moment and heard her mother humming a soft lullaby. They were quiet the entire walk back to the castle, and the whole time Poe kept looking over Ro. Her face was bright red along with her arms that hadn’t been protected from the sun.

“Papa, I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t hurt her! She just fell!” Tears were building up Poe’s eyes as he sat with Kes. Ro was being tended to by her mother and one of their healers. Kes watched his son fondly, knowing that he was worried about the girl.

“I know, Poe. She’s alright. Why don’t you go get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

Kes suggested believing that would calm some of his son’s worries, but nothing seemed to work. Poe had merely picked at his supper and would let his eyes flicker to where Ro had been seated for the past few weeks. Her mother hadn’t joined them either, and it had troubled Poe. Had she gotten hurt worse since they left her for so long? Was she sick now? It wasn’t until after supper that Kes and Poe had been notified that Ro was doing better and was resting in her room with her mother. It was a relief, but Poe nevertheless didn’t feel better. Poe hugged his father goodnight before starting towards his quarters. He knew that he should go to his room but his mind kept wondering about Ro. Biting the inside of his cheek, Poe made his way to her quarters hoping that he can peek inside.

Eirlys kisses the top of Ro’s hair and runs the brush through her burgundy waves while her daughter sips at her water. They had kept a close eye on her throughout the day as she rested and gave her ointment for her sunburn. It had taken the sting out of the burn. Still, Ro felt more drained than ever, and she struggled to keep her eyes open while her mother brushed her hair.

“How are you feeling, sweetling?”

“Better but tired.”

Eirlys hummed before setting the brush over on the nightstand and stood up to let Aurora lied back in the bed. Adjust the pillows to help her to be propped up.

“Is Poe in trouble? He didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t tell them that I was getting too hot.”

“He isn’t. The prince seemed rather worried about you.”

Aurora wasn’t sure if she believed her mother’s words until there was a small knock at the door. Ro’s braids had long been taken out and her mother pulled the canopy curtains to hide her daughter from their visitor. Eirlys crossed the room and opened the door, making sure to stand where the guest couldn’t see anything. However, she wasn’t expecting to see the curly-haired prince.

“Prince Poe, what can I do for you? It’s rather late.”

“Is Ro awake? Can I visit her? Papa asked me to check on her.”

“She’s fine, young prince. She’s resting right now.”

“Can I see her?” Poe was doing his best to glance around the Queen to catch a glimpse of Ro, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Sadly, I can’t let you see her. Her braids are undone.”

“So?”

“Let me explain. In Cianna, our braids are extremely important to us. We don’t allow others who aren’t family to see us without them. They mean a lot to us. However, I might know a way to let you visit her. Give me a moment, alright?”

Poe nodded. He still wasn’t sure why he couldn’t see Ro. The door closed for a moment before Eirlys had appeared again, she held a piece of cloth in her hands before kneeling down in front of the boy.

“Now, this is the only alternative I will allow you to see her. I’m going to put this over your eyes and you can’t take it off okay, young one?”

Poe nodded earnestly and stood still as she wrapped it around his eyes and he barely jumped when she led him into the room, closing the door behind them. Her hand on his shoulder guided him to the bed where she drew back the curtain and Ro looked in confusion but relaxed when she noticed the blindfold.

“Ro?” He gingerly sat on the side of the bed looking in every direction, making Ro laugh just a little. His hand actually reaching out to find hers and he jumped slightly when he felt her hand grad his and squeeze.

“I’m here.”

Hearing her voice made his lips twitch into a slight smile, his hand lightly squeezing hers. They spent the next hour chatting about what had taken place while Eirlys watched. Poe had told Ro that he thought he had some mysterious powers and had harmed her without knowing! Her eyes peered over her book as she watched them. This was the nicest they had been to one another since meeting at the beginning of the month. She almost didn’t have the heart to tell Poe that it was past both of their bedtimes, but she watched as both of them had yawned.

“Ready for bed, young ones?”

“Goodnight, Ro. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Poe.”

Eirlys showed Poe out and discarded the blindfold and watched him dash down the hall towards his room. Closing the door, she glanced over at Aurora and smiled, noticing that her daughter was already fast asleep. Tomorrow looked more promising for them, and Eirlys was feeling better about the match.

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The first month was drawing to an end and Poe couldn’t believe he had made it through the nightmare. It wouldn’t be too much longer before Aurora would be gone. All would return to order and he could forget about her for the next few months, but presently, he was hiding from her. She had been looking for him all morning and he had done his best to escape her. However, she was stubborn. He had wandered around in circles when she had caught up with him earlier, hoping that would annoy her to the point that she would leave him alone. She just wouldn’t give up. That was until he had scurried up one of the trees and sheltered there.

“I know you’re up there.”

“So? Just go away.”

“Your dad told you that we had to spend time together.”

Poe rolled his eyes at her remarks before he dangled upside down from the branch, not even bothering to say anything else to her. They had been at odds since her arrival, and it looked like it wasn’t going to get any better. His arms crossed over his chest as he swung from the branch. Hoping his silence might be the breaking point for her and she would storm off. That thought had passed when she sat down in the grass, her legs stretching out in front of her.

“I don’t like this either. It’s not just you in this.”

“Then why do you keep bothering me?”

“Maybe we could be friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

Aurora messed pulled at the string on her dress. It was the lining of the flower. His words stung and only cause her to get angry, “Then why did you come to my room when I wasn’t feeling well that day?”

Poe felt his cheeks start to warm up and he looked anywhere but at her before he went back to sitting properly on the tree. How could he answer that? He replayed the day that she had fainted from the heat and how he thought she had died. It had scared him a little. He didn’t want her to actually ever be hurt. He had been the one to keep going knowing that she wasn’t used to the heat of Yavin.

“Because my father made me.”

“My momma said you begged to see me and she had to find a way to let you!”

“I don’t beg!”

“Just tell me the truth!”

“I don’t know!”

Both of them were starting to get frustrated with the other and it wasn’t helping that the whole situation was constantly looming in the back of their minds. Ro had stood up and gathered her dress in her hands to stop it from snagging on anything as she walked back to the castle. Leaving Poe to the silence of the woods that he seemed to want more than anything.

The second month.

The second month was going by very slowly for Ro’s liking. She desired to be home. Green hues watched as spray droplets fall down the windowpane in her room. For once, there wasn’t anything to do. The boys never encourage her to play with them or they would run away from her. Telling the adults had done nothing for her and merely made matters worse for her. No matter what Kes told Poe, the young prince still made no effort. If she could keep up, she could play. A basic rule that made her not want to keep up. Instead, she sought out other parts of Yavin. She and her mother had ventured into town to visit some shops. That had led to Ro getting more clothes that were more suited for Yavin. She wouldn’t overheat and faint again. That had been the scariest part of the trip so far.

“I trust they’re getting along quite well for their age, Eirlys. Ro seems to keep them on their toes.” Kes chuckled as he led the glass of wine up to his lips. They had been observing the kids determined to see how their interactions would go. It was going to take a little more time for them to come around to each other.

“Well, Poe is absolutely a catch. I can see a lot of Shara in him. The same fire. He’s a sharp boy, Kes.”

When she had heard the news of Shara Bey’s passing, it had taken her by surprise. They had been friends and fought together. It had troubled her to lose such a devoted friend so soon. She hadn’t been able to visit as much as she wished when Shara Bey was alive. Eirlys planned to change all of that now.

“He’s grown more like her with each day. It was hard for both of us there for a while. Having Ben and Ro here looks to have benefited him. Whether he wants to accept that. He was fairly upset when she fainted that day. He continued to sneak out of his room to go to visit her.”

That made both of them laugh. She had struggled to improve the boy’s fears when he came to see Aurora. The particular reason that she kept him out of the room was Aurora didn’t have her hair braided. After she had described the custom, she had seen the look of defeat on the young one’s face and led her to discover a slight loophole for him. She had prepared him a little blindfold and led him into the room to speak with Ro. However, that would be their little secret.

“He wasn’t thrilled that I didn’t let him see her for himself. I wish I could have, but when she was at breakfast the next morning, he was right back to his normal self.”

The Queen had caught the young boy watching Aurora more carefully that following day. He might have run from her, but he wouldn’t get too far ahead that he couldn’t see her. He had even come inside when he thought it was getting too hot. Ro had trailed right behind him. She didn’t think that Poe realized what he was doing, but she was proud of him.

“That’s Poe for you.”

The children had made a habit out of avoiding each other as much as possible. Ro had discovered plenty of place inside the castle to keep her away from the rowdy boys, and they had made sure not to go looking for her. The rain had stopped for the day and Poe along with Ben were currently slashing around in the mud puddles. Neither boy caring that their polished boots were getting caked in mud. They hadn’t even notice Aurora stepping outside, her hands had gathered up her dress to reveal her bare feet. It wasn’t until they heard the quiet giggles that they looked over at her.

“Why isn’t she wearing shoes?” Ben whispered to Poe, who only shrugged in response. He hadn’t noticed when she was ever wearing shoes or not. It was odd to see her doing something that other girls considered too dirty. She hadn’t paid them any mind as she hopped into the murk puddle and let out a louder laugh.

“Maybe we could play with her just this once? I mean, we won’t ever do it again!” Poe mumbled as he looked to his best friend who simply shrugged. It would not be the end of the world if they played together just this one time. No one would ever have to know that it happened. “Hey, Aurora! Wanna play with us?” Poe called, and she immediately stopped.

Her toes had curled in the muddy water and mud was in between them. Were they really asking her to join them? The princess was hesitant as she nodded and before too long; she made her way over to their large mud puddle. Specs of mud had gathered on the edge of her dress, but she didn’t care. Lifting her foot at the water, she flicked her foot at the boys, hoping to get one of them with the muddy water. Both of them had recoiled back and laugh. It wasn’t long before all of them were laughing and covered in mud and water. The bottom of Ro’s yellow dress had gotten soaked and held a muddy brown color to it.

The scene hadn’t gotten unnoticed as Kes and Eirlys watched from the castle window. Smiles on both of their faces as they watched the children play. The second-month might have not been the most exciting for them but progress was being made day by day.

“I think we have a match.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The third month.

Ro woke up each dawn with the brightest smile on her and counting down the days until she back in Cianna. This was the last month that she would be in Yavin until next summer. Not even Poe and Ben’s incessant teasing could bring her down because shortly she would be home. The thought of seeing her sister and her friend Ignis made her beyond happy. Presently, she savored her juice while the others ate breakfast.

“I thought we could have a farewell party before you leave, your highness,” Kes spoke up as he glared over at Poe, who was rolling his eyes. “It would be an excellent means to say goodbye.”

The notion of a celebration had Ro smiling as she looks to over to her mom. Queen Eirlys hadn’t always been too enamored of parties. She would get irritated with the same melody being played or how irritating the guests would become while they consumed more alcohol. Eirlys usually only appreciated parties after she had been on the battleground and secured another achievement. However, this would be something that Ro would appreciate and she couldn’t say no to her.

“I think that is a wonderful suggestion. Aurora will have to get you a dress.”

That wasn’t what Aurora wanted to hear. She wasn’t extremely fond of dresses and had constantly decided to wear trousers with a flowing top. It was much more comfortable and she couldn’t ruin it with her exploring. However, when she had come to Yavin, Eirlys had kept her mostly in dresses, unsure about how they would feel about her daughter’s attire. Kes had told her that the next time that they came to visit Aurora was welcome to wear whatever made her comfortable, but Eirlys hadn’t disclosed that to her daughter just yet. It could wait until later.

“Poe, I’ll make sure to get you and Ben some formal robes as well for the party.” Both the boys let out an audible groan that Kes answered with a stern look. It was clear that they weren’t looking forward to this party. They would probably try to pull some pranks during the whole thing just to keep the servants busy.

“Kes, I was thinking it might be good if Poe and Aurora shared a dance. Let the people see them.” Eirlys spoke while Ro began to choke on her juice. Coughing and spitting the juice before looking at her mother in horror. Poe’s own eyes had widened in fear as he looked between the two adults. Neither of them wanted to be near each other and they wanted them to dance together? He wasn’t about to touch some girl. Ben could only snicker at the two. That would certainly be entertaining for him to watch.

“I think you’re right, Eirlys. Starting today, we’ll have you both meeting with a dance tutor to start practicing.” Kes declared his mind was made upon the idea and he thought it would him bond just a bit more. The rest of breakfast was met with idly small talk between the king and queen. Aurora and Poe had started picking at their food while Ben happily ate his. Not even offering his friend any comfort.

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“I have to dance with her! That isn’t fair!” Poe uttered as he paced in front of Ben. The taller boy was resting against the tree and listening to the distraught prince babble on. It simply caused him to laugh. Ben actually didn’t dislike Aurora, but he followed Poe’s lead when it came to their games and teasing. “I just wish she would leave already! Why have this party!” He had tossed his hands up in annoyance as Ben watched.

“It’s just one dance and then you’re done. Could be worse. They could tell you to kiss her cheek and dance with her.” Ben grinned while Poe scrunched his nose up and stuck his tongue out.

“Gross! I would never kiss her!” Kissing and girls were the farthest things in his mind. He wanted bold adventures and seeking out new places. There had to be more than just settling down with some girl and ruling until he got gray. He didn’t picture his life like that. There was no way that he could settle down with someone like Aurora. Wasn’t there someone else out there for him? There had to be!

“You’re gonna have to someday.” Ben shrugged before he began to pluck the blades of grass. It was obvious that Poe and Ro hadn’t even tried to get along this summer. They had only played together that one time after it had rained. It hadn’t been awful, and she was sort of fun. She didn’t talk much, but maybe she was simply shy.

“Have you kissed?” Poe asked before he flopping down in front of Ben. His own hands starting to pull up the grass. Had Ben kissed his betrothed?

“Maybe…” Ben’s face appeared to turn a shade of red that gave Poe a better answer.

“Oh. I have to go to my lesson now.”

With that, Poe stood up and began to run to the castle. Why did it matter that Ben had kissed some girl? Why hadn’t he clicked with Aurora? Maybe it was because Aurora wasn’t the one for him and the adults had gotten it wrong. Maybe it was the fear that Ben was starting to grow up little by little while Poe clung to his boyish nature. Sure, they were both princes, but Ben was starting to become more mature and he was the same age as Poe.

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Barging through the doors of the ballroom, Poe struggled to catch his breath as he spotted Aurora rolling her eyes. The dance instructor didn’t look too thrilled by his tardiness either. He lowered his head sheepishly as he cut across the floor to stand in front of Aurora.

“You’re late.”

“Shut up.”

Huffing, Aurora settled her hands where the instructor advised as Poe went on to the same. Both of them stiffened at the other’s touch before scowling at the other. The initial few strides were awkward, and Poe couldn’t avoid stepping on her feet.

“Maybe wear shoes next time.” He snapped before accidentally squeezing her hand a bit too tight. A look of hurt washed over her face before it switched to a more annoyed one.

“Maybe if you would listen and stop rushing, then my feet would be fine.”

The instructor could only separate them so many times to let them cool off before they started to lose their patience. They had made no improvement at the first practice and had purely argued.

“You didn’t even try!” Ro stomped her foot at him only for Poe to place his hands on his hips.

“Because I don’t want to dance with you!” His tone grew as he stood stubbornly in front of the princess.

“Do you think I want to dance with you? You’re a dumb boy! I just want to make my mom happy!” Arguing back, Aurora curled her fingers into tight fists as she studied him. Her face was starting to heat up the more she stared at him. They had definitely reached a breaking point. The whole summer had been about them bottling up their irritations about each other.

“At least I put on shoes! You have dirty feet! I don’t have to have my hair fixed just to be around people!” His eyes grew at his last sentence. He had humiliated more than just her. He had humiliated her whole culture, and the words had struck her hard. The tears were already starting to build up, and he wasn’t prepared for what took place next. Her bottom lip quiver slightly. She had crossed the floor rather swiftly and before he could register what was happening, her fist had connected with his nose. Aurora had punched him in the nose! His eyes watered to the point that he had to close his eyes. He felt something warm trickle down and touch his top lip. It was his blood. He wasn’t sure if it was broken, but the instructor had watched it all and rushed over to him. He didn’t even notice if Aurora had fled the room, and he didn’t care to know.

Aurora wasn’t at supper that night, and Poe couldn’t be happier. His nose hadn’t been broken, but it still hurt. Ben had howled with laughter when Poe told him the dramatic story of Aurora hitting him in the ballroom after their lesson. Kes had scolded Poe for expressing something so harsh and forced him to apologize to the Queen, and he would have to apologize to Aurora when he saw her next. He wouldn’t be allowed to play with Ben as much and would spend time learning about Cianna and their customs from the Queen for the rest of their stay. Poe had argued out of anger, and he hadn’t truly meant what he said to her. She did deserve an apology, but he wasn’t confident that she would accept it.

She had passed up supper to remain in her room away from Poe. She didn’t ever want to look at the prince again after what he had said. She didn’t have filthy feet and her braids were a symbol of all that she had accomplished, even if she simply had two. Her mama had so many braids and they were regularly styled in such marvelous ways. It drove her to want to earn as many braids as she could. The tears had slid down her cheeks once more and she immediately wiped them away. She wasn’t about to weep over something a stupid prince said. She was the princess of Cianna.

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The days had passed by and the farewell party was only a few days away. The dance lessons had gone by smoothly after Poe had apologized to Aurora. She still hadn’t worn shoes, much to his annoyance. They didn’t speak much during their lesson and decided to concentrate on what the instructor asked of them. Their dance routine had improved, and they still made faces at each other, but no one had gotten punched in the nose since the original lesson. The instructor had dismissed them early since they were going to be fitted for their formal attire for that night.

“You’ve improved…” Ro said before staring down at her toes while she curled and uncurled them.

“Thanks.”

Poe responded before turning to flee the chamber. He preferred to spend the rest of the day with Ben. His best friend would leave soon, and he didn’t know when he would get to see him again. Poe had begged his dad to let him take a trip to Naboo to see Ben in the spring, but Kes hadn’t given him an answer yet. He realized they would spend the summers with Ro. Neither of them wished to think about that fact and would dread it each time that summer came around.

Poe lay under one of his favorite trees as he tried not to dwell on the upcoming party and his friend’s departure. They were relaxing in the sunlight while they awaited their turn to face the tailors to try on their robes. Aurora was facing the tailors and adding the finished details to her gown.

“Do you think Aunt Leia will let me live with you instead of my dad?”

“Probably not. You can visit in the spring though.”

“Can I meet your betrothed then?”

“I don’t see why not but you can’t act like a brat.”

“I’m not a brat. Aurora has been the one to cause so many problems!”

“We haven’t been nice either.”

“Whatever.”

They lay in silence once more before the tailors came to gather them for their last fitting. Poe shuffled his feet the whole way to his room and murmured when he glanced at his outfit. The robes were complementary shades of gold and orange with decorative patterns in silver. The undergarment was a bolder shade of orange, along with a brown leather belt to tie it all together. The garments would cover his brown trousers and be tucked into his polished boots. It wasn’t hideous, but Poe didn’t want to wear it all night. Ben’s almost mirrored Poe’s, but the colors reflected Naboo or more so his grandmother’s colors. They were crimson and black with the Naboo Royal Crest lining in gold. His trousers and boots were black.

Both boys grumbled as they remained in their garments and let the tailors fuss over them to make certain that they fit perfectly. Poe did try his best to remain patient, but Ben would make a face that he would catch in the mirror that would cause him to laugh. Both tailors reprimanding the boys before Poe did the same thing.

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The night had finally come! This would be the last few hours that Aurora and Poe would have to spend together! They would be leaving right away tomorrow morning! Both of the kids had been in great spirits throughout the day. Nothing could spoil their day, not even the dance they had to share later. Presently, the children were watching some adults twirl around the chamber. Aurora observed as her mom danced with the King before looking as another swept in to steal her for a dance. Everybody was joyful.

“One day you and Aurora will host a party like this,” Ben murmured before nudging his friend’s side which earned him a nasty look from the curly-haired boy.

“I won’t dance with her if I can help it. She’s the worse dancer there is.”

“Says the one who steps on my feet…”

Ben couldn’t help the laughter that left his lips and looked as Ro smirked at Poe. Poe frowned before choosing a chunk of meat from his plate and flicking it at her. The feeling of the meat touching her cheek caused her to gasp. Huffing, Ro seized a handful of vegetables before throwing them at the prince. Seeing that he had gotten her fired up, Poe grabbed Ben’s arm and scooted him down to take the hit of food. The Nabooian prince grunted as he studied Poe and flicked whatever he had on his fork at him. None of this market was going unseen, and instantly the other kids were joining in. Food traveled all around them as Poe and Ro focused on each other. They threw whatever food their hands came connected with. Poe’s robes were becoming smeared with food stains and Ro’s navy dress was as well.

“Stop this at once!”

The thundering voice of Kes Dameron made everybody stop, and the children to slide down in their chairs. Eirlys glared at her daughter as she took in the sight of chaos that had been created around the table and their clothes. No one dared move as the King looked at his son, who had simply pointed at the princess. She pointed at Poe when her mother raised a brow at her.

“I should send you to your room, Poe.”

“I should do the same but I think I might have a better punishment for both of you if King Kes will hear it,” Eirlys spoke before looking between the children. Both of them gulped hoping that they would be sent to their rooms instead.

“Please continue.”

“I say we wrap up this party with their dance. There’s no need to make them change either.”

“I think that’s a splendid idea.”

Aurora and Poe looked at their parents in sheer terror at the image of not merely having to dance together but to do so in their soiled clothes. Ro had food in her braids, and Poe could smell the gravy that had soaked into his robe. This wasn’t going to be fun, but the adults all around them looked to be in agreement. Poe begrudgingly stood up and extended his hand to Aurora, who placed her hand in his, doing her best to ignore whatever sticky residue on the princes’ palm. Kes signaled the musicians, and the music filled the room once more. Everyone stood around the young prince and princess as they danced. Their faces glaring as they looked at each other and their noses scrunching up when they sniffed some bizarre combination from their soiled garments. Soon others began to join alongside them and the night went on.

After being thoroughly scrubbed that night, the kids were sent to bed. They had carried out the task of apologizing to all the visitors as they left. Neither of them apologized to each other but expressed to their parent how sorry they were. They had retold their story several times and had sought to draw Ben into it, merely for him to answer that he wasn’t certain who initiated it. Thankfully, no one had actually been harmed in their little food fight and the other noble children had enjoyed the fun as well. It had been a memorable evening that no one would forget anytime soon.

It was time to say goodbye and Ro was bouncing on her feet as they continued forming arrangements for the next summer. The Dameron family would come to Cianna and Eirlys had encouraged them to come in the spring for one of their festivals. Poe had stuck his tongue out at the mere mention of it. He was going to Naboo to spend time with Aunt Leia and Ben, along with Ben’s betrothed. It wouldn’t be spent anywhere near Ro. Ro didn’t like the offer either. She preferred to spend it with Ignis and Thalia. They could eat all the sweets and play in the rivers. Poe would simply spoil their fun and create trouble.

“Alright, Ro. Say goodbye to King Kes and Prince Poe.”

Rolling her eyes, she curtsies to the King before sticking her tongue out at Poe.

“Thank you for letting us visit.”

Kes urged Poe forward, and Poe bent his head to Ro and gently lifted her hand to peck. He grimaced shortly afterward while Ro rubbed her hand on her skirt. Both of their parents snickered at them. The summer hadn’t been an entire miss, and it was probable that it would get better from now on. If someone were to ask the children how they felt about it all, they would get an entirely different answer. Kes waved off the Queen and her daughter as they commenced their journey home. Poe stood with his arms crossed and toeing at the dirt on the ground. It was finally over and they could both return to their typical lives. Yet, something hit Poe as he accompanied his father into the castle. It was quiet. Had it always been this quiet?

#Poe Dameron x OC #My OC #Mar's Writing #To Capture a Heart #AU #TW: Mentions of Fainting #TW: Mentions of blood

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hrodvitnon · 3 years

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Heh, yeah, he probably didn't think Goji being that small would be a problem.

Alright, moving on-I have another little scenario cooked up: it regards Godzilla and his family needing to deal with all of the incarnations (minus Earth) that I mentioned in previous posts suddenly being teleported (along with those they cherish) to the Abraxasverse, and how they need to coexist with one another lest it ends up like this fic:

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12783256/1/Godzilla-Battle-of-the-Ten-Kings (Ignore the outcome that Heisei won)

I also have a pretty good idea how this might affect the routes (don't worry, I won't let you describe how you can't speculate yourself yet-I'll do it myself for this.)

In the Coexistence Route, there's going to be a lot of chaotic confusion regarding around 10 or so versions of Godzilla running around and possibly starting to rampage in response to being taken from their home dimensions; MV!Goji and his family have their hands full trying to stop/talk with the other Gojis to stop rampaging & explain where they are now. Showa might be the most reasonable and will likely help them out, especially with the likes of Kiryu Saga!Goji & GMK!Goji who will resist and try to fight back against those who they see as impostors until Showa & MonsterVerse Godzilla put them in their place and get them to listen. The 2000 twins might accept since they do have equal levels of sapience to Showa!Goji, it's the bigger Godzillas that might pose a problem-with Heisei & Final Wars probably getting into a large & intense fight if they ever met & cause massive collateral damage in the process-not to mention another version of Shin who wouldn't have the same personality or empathy as his Abraxasverse counterpart and will be hostile to anything and everyone around him-including his counterpart because he sees Abraxas!Shin as weak due to his empathy. The Titans & humanity will need to work together to corral and get Heisei, Final Wars, and 2016!Shin to stop and listen to reason (though 2016!Shin possibly will need to be frozen again)-and it might end with all Godzillas agreeing to stop fighting (on certain conditions) , but they need a place to live that is isolated enough to be at peace (GMK will be left out and probably be either killed or vanquished to the Hollow Earth for Kong to finish him off with his axe); with a version of Monster Island to be used as a new home for the Godzillas (with Minilla, Minya, & Godzilla Jr to accompany their respective fathers there). It would end with a wobbly, but peaceful Coexistence.

In the Genocide Route however, things will not go so well....

Because here-the Godzilla incarnations are teleported while MV!Goji is in the process of wiping out humanity-the Titans start to become frustrated & very wary of these other Gojis as they start to pick fights with each other and, whether accidently or not, kill more humans in the process. Of course, MV!Goji will quickly sense the presence of these other Godzillas and immediately try to attack them as a result of his hallucinations blinding his judgement and common sense-resulting in some of the Gojis (Heisei especially) having a bone to pick with him after the fact. It might all culminate in a final showdown after some warmup battles in (very ironically) Tokyo-where all the Gojis show up, destroy the city to get themselves ready-and start to battle one another for the right to be the one true King of the Monsters!(of course, this is actually just to get rid of the competition)

The Titans & MV!Goji's family then watch with bated breath as the 10 Kings duke it out and slowly start to permanently kill each other as the fighting and stakes get higher and higher-with Kiryu Saga!Goji being the first one to die before the others, 2016!Shin does some creepy stuff that might disturb his counterpart, the original 1954 Goji is also in the fight and gets beaten up a lot, and all the smaller Gojis are killed off before the night ends. The larger Godzillas start to unleash their true power as the fighting gets even more intense, a great many beam-lock wars are had-& then the slaughter begins-Shin ends up being the first to die as the other 3 Gojis gang up on him after he potshots them too much, and then, you will likely be surprised-Heisei is then offed. How so? Let me describe:

• Despite their respective powers-Final Wars and MV!Goji (if the hallucinations briefly go away) will recognize Heisei!Goji as having a lot of potential to kill either of them (my interpretation) and team up to take him down-resulting in a complete decapitation to permanently kill him (heh, how's that for irony?).

The former two are the last ones standing-and fight the last fight for their lives. Everyone watches in anxiety and Godzilla's family, despite what he has recently done, pray that he wins this last fight. At first, MV!Goji has the upper hand, having gone feral & finally stopped holding back, and is seemingly very close to killing his counterpart-only for him to reveal he was also holding back and turns the tables on the natural Godzilla, tossing him around-beating him senseless & utterly wrecking him. Everyone watches in understandable horror as Final Wars!Goji then begins to charge up his spines....and they flash crimson red as he then impossibly throws MV!Goji high up into the sky.

Having had enough, Godzilla's family rush to stop what was about to happen....but it's too late.

Final Wars!Goji unleashes his Burning G Spark Heat Ray into his counterpart (here he doesn't need Ozaki's boost to gain the ability), who initially tanks the attack-but it slowly becomes too much for his body to handle....and after a few seconds, he lets out one, final agonized roar before exploding into a fiery ball of light & chuncks of flesh. His family, and the Titans can only watch in silenced shock as their Godzilla bit the dust and was now gone forever......

Meanwhile, Final Wars Goji roars in victory before immediately going to the sea to rest after winning. The only ones happy with MV!Goji's demise is humanity, who sort-of praise Final Wars!Goji as a hero of sorts and slowly start to rebuild what Godzilla destroyed. On the Titan perspective, the other Titans are initially very hesitant to accept Final Wars Godzilla as their new Alpha/King, but after he demonstrates his abilities and power-they submit and look to him as the new ruler of Earth, the only ones who outright rejected his rule were Kong, Tiamat, Barbra, Dagon, Scylla, and Rodan-with the now deceased MV!Goji's family going into hiding in the Hollow Earth to grieve the death of their Godzilla.

Mothra is in complete anguish and despair after the death of her mate, Shin & Junior are in similar states and become depressed, Leo, Manda, & Keeta are mostly unaware of what's happening but do their best to comfort their peers since they can easily detect their sadness, but the one who was affected the most was Monster X, with Viv trying to deny the fact that Godzilla was gone, and San trying anything to comfort her. Kong visits every now and then with Jia to act as emotional support to the grieving family and generously lets them stay in the Hollow Earth as a temporary home until they recover enough to head to the surface.

Mothra heads to an isolated island to be alone after she justifiably rejects FW!Goji as her king, Shin & Junior go with her along with Leo and Manda, Keeta is taken back to his adoptive father, and Monster X starts to develop a bitter grudge against FW!Goji and wants revenge for MV!Goji's death; but even Viv'n'San know that trying to take on the one who killed the other Gojis wouldn't end well for them-so they teeth-clenchingly 'coexist' with FW!Goji until they find a way to get their revenge.....even if they themselves die or it would be for nothing.....

Just to inform you, I can understand if you don't like the Genocide branch-off scenario, so you can simply react to the Coexistence one if you like.

But overall, what do you think of the second long post that I wrote?

Yeaaaaaah, not a fan of the Genocide branch-off... plus I wasn't a fan of the whole Everyone Beats Up MV!Goji thing from previous asks, it's all kinda, well, sus.

...though I'd like to bring up something that Monster X themselves state in Abraxas Chapter 17: They can be good, but can also be a terrible (if necessary) evil, true to their namesake. In this instance, I'd picture them flatly rejecting FW!Goji out of rage and hate because he basically killed what Vivienne saw as a mentor/god, and this cat-faced bastard expects submission from them? Fuck that. He'll get in their face about it like, "I'm your king now. Kneel."

But Monster X just stares at him with the same cold hate they gave to MaNi before mauling and killing him. "KNEEL!" FW!Goji demands. Monster X doesn't even blink. "Even kings kneel before the executioner." FW!Goji scowls at them with fire in his eyes. "You better not be threatening me, you little freak. You saw how I put down that rabid animal you're being such a whiny bitch about."

"Oh no," Monster X says with thinly-veiled contempt, "Certainly not. Just making a historical observation. I'm the Executioner... and no king's reign lasts forever, Usurper." Then they have the balls to turn their back on him and move to the Hollow Earth, knowing that even if FW!Goji wants to throw hands he has no real reason to (unless he wants to be an asshole) and FW!Goji has some measure of reason. Implied Death Threat aside, they never explicitly challenged him and attacking them just for disagreeing with him (when MV!Goji left Kong alone after he refused to submit) will only make him look like a tyrant.

---

For the Coexistence Chaos, I wouldn't consider 2016!Shin to be actively hostile to everything around him; in his home film it's noted that "behaviorally it just moves," he's basically a confused animal that doesn't know what's going on and simply reacts (see also the lyrics to Who Will Know), and he only explicitly reacts with violence once he's met with violence (namely gaining his atomic breath after GBU-57s were dropped on him), so he'll be hostile purely out of self-defense.

Also, regarding the Genocide branch off, let's not forget 2016!Shin's 5th form (the army of small humanoid Shin Godzilla's literal seconds away from branching off from his tail); because 2016!Shin is constantly evolving in a way to combat the threats he faces, it's not out of the question that he'd just spawn the 5th forms so they can scurry off and go into hiding while the other 9 Gojis are ripping each other apart.

#wagrilous 23

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julianxlevy · 6 months

Text

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [JULIAN LEVY]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [LOGAN LERMAN]. You must be the [THIRTY-TWO] year old [OWNER OF DRIFTWOOD COFFEE SHOP]. Word is you’re [HONEST] but can also be a bit [TACTLESS] and your favorite song is [THE SCIENTIST BY COLDPLAY]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

Basics:

Full name: Julian Alexander Levy

Nickname: Alex (Family and old friends call him this)

Age: 32

Birthdate: December 10th, 1990

Sun,Moon,Rising: Sagittarius, Gemini, Taurus

Hometown: New York City

Job: Owner of Driftwood Coffee Shop

Been in Aurora Bay: 27 years (left for 6 years, has been back for 8 years)

Bio:

(Tw; Abandonment)

It’s hard to believe that the boy who ran around Aurora Bay causing chaos for the majority of his childhood and adolescence would become an owner of a coffee shop, and yet that is exactly what happened to Julian.

Julian was born in New York City to a mother with a dream of stardom but honestly a lack of star power and a father who could care less about his existence. He was raised in a very unstable environment there until he was five and his mother told him they were moving to Aurora Bay to live with family.

What she had left out was that she had no intention to stay. After a week of being back home, one day she left Julian at his aunt’s house saying that she needed to run errands, and left him there, never returning.

Kids can be resilient but that messed with Julian a lot and it still hurts him to this day. Not that he would admit it.

He was always a very active child and while his aunt, uncle, and grandma definitely didn’t expect to take on the responsibility of raising him, they did their best.

Julian was thrown into every sport. His aunt told him it was because he was so good at them but now he knows it was to keep him out of trouble…and it didn’t help.

There were constant calls home about Julian’s behavior and he always seemed to skip extreme consequences. Did he get reprimanded? Yes. Was there punishment? Rarely. He was charming. Still is. Which is why he got away with so much.

For all the heartaches he caused his guardians, he did even worse with his peers. Relationships were chaotic. Besides his best friend(wanted connection), who he had since he moved to Aurora Bay, there were problems with his romantic and platonic relationships. Either he was too flirty and caused people to think he was interested, he was too flaky and wasn’t there for people when they needed him, or he would completely break up with a girl out of nowhere and for no reason.

When the troublemaker graduated high school, he went to a community college in New York. New York specifically to look for his mother but what he found was love…for the city.

He ended up doing surprisingly well when he moved away, because he was too afraid to cause trouble away from home, and got accepted to NYU. He didn’t go though because as he finished his associates, he fell in love with a sweet girl and instantly wanted to start a life with her.

They were together for one year when his girlfriend became pregnant. For a bit, everything was working out well. He got engaged, had a daughter, and was working as a manager at a coffee shop in upstate New York, but when his daughter turned three, everything changed.

It turns out his fiancee wasn't quite ready to have a family and when he returned home from work one day, not only did he see her with another man, but she also told him she was leaving.

It broke Julian's heart that his daughter had to go through the same thing he went through, but he was and is determined for her to feel loved, which is why he decided it would be best to leave New York and move back to Aurora Bay.

While he couldn’t find his mom in New York, he certainly found her when he returned back home and it wasn’t a joyous reunion. He’s been back for eight years and he’s still not on good terms with her.

Because his aunt had an amazing connection, the original owner of Driftwood Coffee Shop was looking to retire and travel around the world and Julian was a former barista/manager in desperate need of a job. So he is now running a coffee shop in the same town where he used to know the sheriff personally.

He’s still the same charming Julian, just not as chaotic. If there is one thing that becoming a father taught him, it is that he has the capability of taking things seriously.

Headcanons:

Julian hates the taste of beer but drinks it because he thinks it makes him look rugged. (He's stupid, y'all).

Julian is surprisingly very neat. He likes to keep things as clean as he can.

He is a very active father. PTA dad, goes to all her recitals, and every other posts on instagram is something about Gracie.

His daughter has a cat named Carl, but he affectionately calls him little shit. He loves him...sometimes.

His cousins (Wanted connection) are like his siblings. They were raised together and he is fiercely protective of them.

Julian likes surfing but he is not good at him. Catch him at the beach nearly drowning every weekend.

Important Relationships:

Family; Parents: Sarah Palmer and Aaron Levy, Aunt and Uncle: Yvette and Anthony Ogden Cousins: Ella Ogden (27) Anthony Ogden Jr. (29), Children: Gracie Levy

Platonic; Plots wanted: (TBD.)

Romantic; Plots wanted: (TBD.)

#aurorabay.intro

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priorireverte · 3 years

Photo

Congratulations Nat!

Your application for Lavender Brown has been accepted. My werewolf(?) flower child! Let’s focus on the trouble she’s going to get into and NOT how this is a day late.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Nat, she series

AGE: Old enough to have played Neopets when it was considered a popular thing

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Usually around 2-3 times a week. Sometimes more frequently. Sometimes I may be on once a week if my chronic illness decides to throw me for a loop.

ANYTHING ELSE: No triggers.

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: Lavender Brown

BIRTHDATE: April 27, 1980

DEATHDATE: May 2, 1998

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Female, she/her/hers, pansexual - openly

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

OCCUPATION: N/A due to recently returning

FACECLAIM: Sydney Park

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

Returning brought the news that Lavender’s father died several months after she did, leaving the Ministry with the option of handing her over to her mother. The woman is rather uneasy about the whole situation since she has no training in regards to what to do if the attack on her daughter results in the full moon affecting her.

Coping is confusing and has left Lavender rather anxious. The last thing she can recall was a searing pain in her neck and Fenrir Greyback being bent over her— the one face that truly haunts her memories. Having fought for what was right and just leaves Lavender with little regret toward the side she chose. After all, her father always encouraged her to follow her heart, and doing so meant not risking allowing the Dark Lord to take over. It will be a bit of a relief to know her death wasn’t for nothing (a big fear of hers includes discovering that their side lost) but the after-effects will haunt her waking moments.

Being attacked was certainly not how she imagined her life to end, with her returning focused on fretting about what will happen the first full moon she experiences. Her parents carried prejudices toward werewolves that she didn’t exactly support or question as a child past deciding she would come to a conclusion based on her own experiences. With Remus Lupin as the only werewolf she came across before the one that ended her life, she has some hope that things won’t be too unbearable. There’s just the matter of her mother making occasionally rude remarks and not wanting to spend long periods of time with her.

PERSONALITY

Before her passing, Lavender could be described as boisterous. She appreciated being the center of attention and was prone to being loud and behaving in ways that would get others to pay attention to her. Some would even go as far as describing her behavior as childish. It was merely a matter of getting the attention that her parents didn’t provide while growing up.

Although friendly, her personality had a way of grating on people. She had few friends and was grateful for the ones she kept throughout her time at Hogwarts. Reading situations is something she struggled with, often relying on Parvarti to keep her in check if she seemed too overbearing.

Divination was easily her favorite school subject, with care for magical creatures as a close second. She was rather clever, hiding behind the habit of playing dumb around her classmates.

Returning has left Lavender on the anxious side, feeling like people are paying extra attention to her because of the mystery around coming back from the particularly gruesome way she died. Falling from a balcony could have left her alive (damaged but alive). The attack from Fenrir, however, was too much to handle. Knowing he was what caused her to perish has her fearing the attention that is on her. There are too many unknowns and she feels as though the attention she is receiving is out of treating her as an experiment - not people being relieved to see her as one of the familiar faces among the returned.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

Lavender is the only child of Isaac and Seraphina Brown. She was a welcomed addition to the family, with her parents doting on her during the first few years of her life. The novelty of having a child wore off once Lavender was old enough to have her own opinion. Her mother didn’t appreciate the attention-seeking ways of her child and kept the girl at a distance. Her father loved her but wasn’t overly affectionate, relying on material goods as a way of showing his feelings toward his child. She was rather spoiled but her childhood lacked the traditional warmth most parents provided their children with.

Although purebloods, the Browns did not officially pick a side during either war. Her father focused on the Ministry and managed to avoid being recruited by the death eaters. The main family values involved her father mentioning Lavender was destined for greatness that would be guided by her own decisions. He wanted her to have the confidence to think for herself and use her mistakes as learning experiences but did not have a constructive way of instilling those values that didn’t involve lecturing at his daughter.

HISTORY

Spoiled and lonely. The years leading up to going to Hogwarts were spent getting whatever she asked for from her father. It didn’t matter how expensive the item was or whether or not it was an appropriate item for her age. Although grateful the threat of tears served as a way of getting whatever she wanted, material goods did not make up for the emotional distance her parents used while raising her. The Browns were not overly social and Lavender spent her early life surrounded by books, dogs, the outdoors, and having minimal contact with other people.

Hogwarts was challenging since it meant meeting children her age. She didn’t know how to behave around others and struggled with understanding social norms during her first two years of school. The little guidance from her parents and peers made making friends hard but she did manage to befriend a few of the girls in her dormitory.

She was quite close with Parvarti Patil and the two were inseparable for most of Hogwarts — the teen serving as one of the first thoughts on her mind moments after coming through the veil.

Voldemort’s return was something Lavender didn’t immediately acknowledge. Her mother had made scathing remarks about Harry during the summer after the first bit of news spread about it and she went along with it in an attempt at getting attention from her mother. Peer pressure eventually led to her accepting Harry was telling the truth.

Lavender sided with Dumbledore’s Army and spent her last year of life being quite vocal about disliking the Death Eater’s interference at Hogwarts. She eventually took to hiding in the room of requirement since running her mouth was too risky and the castle had taken a rather dark turn.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

Ugh. I would never - how dare you even suggest I enjoy this group enough to take on two characters, let alone three. I said the third would be a calm muse and here we are with the dice gods deciding the possibility of postmortem lycanthropy means chill.

Anyway, oof. Let me see the chaos of returning after being attacked by a werewolf and the uncertainty of not knowing if Fenrir did enough damage to have caused her to become one. (Emmy side note of we’ll need to further discuss this since I’m fine with either her getting a few wolf-ish traits from the attack or her returned life getting the hiccup of transforming on the full moon :|)

I would love to see Fenrir come into play and know that is rather wishful thinking but he could prove to be an interesting addition.

I’m mostly wanting to further explore Lavender’s character traits. I feel like J.K. Rowling deliberately made her annoying and gave her few reasons for readers to forgive her for her personality/basically went “wow loud girl that giggles too much and is emotional. Let’s keep her development at that.” Returning would mean those overly obnoxious traits being a little muted since she no longer likes the idea of all eyes being on her.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Mock blog: https://lavlavbrown.tumblr.com/

#prioriacceptance #lavender brown

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yellow-faerie · 3 years

Link

This is a fic I did from a prompt from @actuallymiriel. I hope this is something like what you wanted!

“Ho! Traveller!” Finrod spins around, reaching for his sword before remembering that he no longer carries it with him. The unmarred world is safe, after all. He forces himself to relax. “Good day,” He says in return, examining the stranger before him, dressed in fine hunting clothes and holding himself cheerily. He is clearly an elf but there is something…some feeling that makes Finrod wary.

Finrod is grieving the loss of his husband in the new world when he meets a stranger in the woods. They have an enlightening conversation.

——————————————

Finrod has taken to wandering the forest recently.

It is close to his lonely cottage and far preferable to staying within its empty, silent rooms.

Galadriel had asked him, last time she visited, why he insisted on staying out here in the wilderness when there was plenty of city where he would be decidedly less lonesome.

It’s not that he hates the city: quite the contrary, he loves to watch the hustle and bustle of people toing and froing and to hear the unique music of every market place and street.

He does not hate the city but the forest is dearer to his heart and he will sacrifice company to walk beneath its boughs.

The forest is where he met the love of his life and his death. Every step he takes that crunches beneath him, every bird that sings in the canopy above, every gentle swaying branch reminds him of Bëor.

He takes a faded joy from the memory of his love’s unadulterated ecstasy at the world around him.

That is why he took his leave to the middle of nowhere.

“Ho! Traveller!”

Finrod spins around, reaching for his sword before remembering that he no longer carries it with him. The unmarred world is safe, after all.

He forces himself to relax.

“Good day,” He says in return, examining the stranger before him, dressed in fine hunting clothes and holding himself cheerily. He is clearly an elf but there is something…some feeling that makes Finrod wary.

The stranger gives him a hearty smile. “I thought I would be the only one this far from civilisation.”

“Are you lost?” Finrod inquires – it feels impossible as the elf seems so at ease but it was polite to ask.

“Ah, no. But I do not think I shall make it to my destination tonight. Alas, I must sleep in the woods.”

“I live close by. You may stay the night instead of sleeping out here, if that would be to your liking.”

“I most generous offer that I will most certainly be taking you up on.” The stranger smiles. “May I know the name of my host?”

“Nóm.” The name falls from his lips as easily as the offer of a nights rest. His tongue seems to have a life of its own in this elf’s presence. “And your name, stranger?”

“You may call me Únan-Pen.” He gives Finrod another smile and any unease Finrod may have felt at the name melts away.

+++++

“A very nice supper that was indeed.” Finrod’s guest puts his knife and fork together on his plate. “Now, I’m curious – what brought you to live here, so far from your kin?”

Finrod grimaces. “I have rather a lot of kin. It is quite nice to have a place to be away from the chaos.”

“Ah.” The elf buries around in his pocket, revealing a pipe. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

“Of course not, be my guest.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, in which Finrod reminisces of times he had done this with his many mortal friends and of course, his dearest love.

“You seem awfully melancholy,” The other elf comments suddenly, breaking through Finrod’s thoughts. “I thought this new world was a happy place.”

“Happiness is subjective. ”

“Is it now?”

“It is. Happiness can only be gained through your experiences. Thus, your experiences shape the way that you are happy. It’s not something you can just create.” Finrod hates the bitter note that creeps into his voice.

His guest puffs thoughtfully on his pipe. “You appear to have missed something that your peers have not. They do not seem so pained in the new world.”

“They forget the old.”

“Do not think that I forget her! I do not pretend that she never existed. I want to be happy, Finrod!”

Finrod blinks away the sour memory. “Would you like some tea?” He asks his guest, trying for a smile.

“Certainly, if it is being offered.”

Finrod lifts the kettle onto the stove.

“Are you alone here?”

“Yes.” Finrod tugs on one of his braids as he returns to his seat. “I have no-one to share it with.”

“Is that why you are so mournful? You are alone?”

“It is not just because I am alone. It is because I once had someone I thought I would be able to share my life with and now I do not.”

“They were mortal?”

Finrod lets out a short laugh, before agreeing resentfully. “He was mortal. Eru will not let me be joined with him again.”

The kettle whistles, high and piercing, and Finrod stands again to fill the waiting mugs. Bëor never liked the unsweetened taste of this tea, Finrod thinks as he brings the mugs back to the table.

“You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of the One,” Finrod’s guest comments as he accepts the tea.

“Why should I? He has done nothing for me.”

“Nothing?” The elf looks incredulous. “He created you. Surely you cannot find fault with that.”

“It was done with little creation, it appears, or else he is not so omnibenevolent as I am so often told.” Finrod’s knuckles are white where they grip the mug.

“Do you truly believe you can understand His reasoning? His mind is far beyond that of any spirit on this earth, incarnate or not.” Finrod’s hands are beginning to scald, holding his mug so tightly. “He is timeless and transcends all comprehension. Would it not be folly, then, to argue with His actions?”

“If He did not want those He created to argue with His actions, He should not have caused His creation – His children, whom He claims to love – pain from which they cannot recover.”

“You believe he has inflicted something upon you that has caused a wound that will not heal?”

“Yes.” Finrod squares his jaw as he takes his hand from the mug. “He gave His children separate fates and put them in a place where they would form bonds of brotherhood and love but then he tore them apart through death, never to be joined again. And now I must watch my family be happy and content in this new life, free from burdens and with those they love and know I will never quite manage to achieve that same peace separated from him.”

“Fifi, for the sake of all that is good, why must you continue to wallow in your pain?”

His guest takes his pipe from his mouth, setting it on the table with a firm tap.

“I am interested,” He starts slowly. “In a point from earlier. Happiness, you said, was subjective. Thus to achieve happiness, would you not need pain to compare to your joyous moments too?”

“Yes. But if you cannot recover from your injuries, does that not taint those moments.”

“Only, I believe, if you let it. If you do not, if you accept the change and let it become a part of you – not to forget but to accept – you may very well find those moments of joy are happier. The greater the pain of an experience, surely, would provide a greater love for those things around you.”

“It is not a matter of letting. You cannot…you cannot just take that weight from your soul.”

“No. But you can get stronger so that the weight does not feel so heavy.” The elf picks up his pipe again, tipping it into the flickering fireplace. “Surely you are not the only one who suffers so? Not the only one who must deal with the grief of a lost lover.”

“Fine! If you must be like that, leave! See if I care!”

Finrod doesn’t answer, his brother’s biting words echoing in his head. Their parting conversation – well, argument seems a more fitting term – was not a sweet one.

“Well, it’s getting late.” Finrod looks up from his hands at his guest who gives him a smile that seems to hold all the peace in the world. “I should be off to bed.”

Finrod gives his guest a weak smile and directs him through a door to their left with a quiet goodnight.

His brother’s harsh words whisper into his ears, sweet memories of his lover flit across his eyes as he sits at his kitchen table, the hearth dying down to embers and the sun rising in the west.

++++

Finrod is woken slowly from his thoughts by the sun falling on his face and his open eyes.

He yawns, exhausted from his long night. He supposed that he should make breakfast. He stumbles to his feet and over to the guest bedroom.

He knocks gently. “Hey…” He trails off as he realises, with some embarrassment, that he can’t remember his guest’s name. “…sir. Would you like some breakfast?”

There is no answer but for the whistling of wind through an open window. Finrod pushes the door open.

There is no-one occupying the bed or any part of the room: indeed, everything looks untouched, as if no-one slept there at all last night.

Finrod stands in the doorway, the gentle morning breeze blowing the curtains and into his hair.

There is a sharp knock on the front door.

He blinks, surprised. “I’m coming!” He yells, pausing for a moment, wondering at his mysterious guest.

The knock comes again.

“impatient,” He mutters, fumbling with the bolt and key.

There’s a third knock. “I’m opening it! Calm down.”

“Good it’s bloody freezing out here.”

It’s good thing that Finrod has already unlocked the door because he can feel his hand begin to shake.

“Aiko?” He asks, pulling the door open.

Sure enough, there is Angrod: spiky hair, lopsided grin and all.

“Hey Fifi. I think we need to talk.”

“Talk?” Finrod asks.

“Yes. But properly this time. With no arguing.”

That doesn’t sound too bad.

#Finrod #Finrod/Beor #Tolkien #Silmarillion #Fanfiction #writing prompt

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twohornycannibals · 4 years

Note

13 for the prompt list?

#13: “You can’t just keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

(I really liked this prompt for Hannigram! Thank you~)

It's not exactly as though Will wanted to talk about it. Of course, he couldn't deny the part of him wanted too. Denial was ugly, rotten; it crawled under his skin. He had stopped denying himself things, at least he thought he did. It wasn't denial if he wasn't sure he wanted too.

They didn't talk about it. But they thought about it whenever they're minds would wander away from the pain and suffocating chaos of this new life—Chiyoh’s boat, the ocean waves that make Will feel safe. As if, maybe, if he closed his eyes, he would be sailing to Europe, and he would find Hannibal as he had. Expect this time he would either run away or successfully die. He couldn't decide which, not when his mind was always snapped out of the daydream by Hannibal himself. The living, breathing, real Hannibal. However damaged and scruffy he looked compared to usual, he was there. Not in Europe, nor prison, but here on a boat off the coast of Cuba.

Today, however, Will had denied himself the daydream before it started. The unspoken truth of their situation was turning to slug under his skin, and he itched it to go away.

"Will?" He always spoke quietly, not wanting to bother Will. Hannibal knew he wasn't a bother, but he was hesitant. Knowing how much Will enjoyed the simplicity of the water.

"Yeah?" He turned to meet Hannibal's eyes, their gaze softened. How has he softened after all this? When all Will had done was grow tenser. "Everything okay?" His response was nodded, Will noticing the trembling in his legs as he stood on the deck. It wasn't sea legs, Hannibal would've adjusted easily if it weren't for the bullet wound and the blood loss. Will had peered at him contently when he had initially clutched the fresh wound; now, Will waited impatiently for him to heal. It made him feel uneasy to see Hannibal hurt. "Weakness doesn't look good on you, Dr. Lecter." He reached his arm out to steady Hannibal, nodding his head towards the cabin where the cot was. "Dr. Lecter" held a weight to it. Sometimes it felt joking and humorous; most of the time, it revealed Will's emotions far too quickly. Hannibal recognized when he was on-edge or closed off regardless, but it was a dead give away. "Fits you like an ill-fitting suit." Those shaking legs had tensed as he was led to the cot, placed gently down like a fragile family air-loom. Will looked him up and down as his body relaxed, still in obvious pain. His voice was humorous, salty, pained, caged-off. He didn't even bother to hide it. Deny himself.

"If I am the doctor, why are you the one taking care of me?" Hannibal's eyes were heavy, making sure not to leave Will's, never wanting to miss an emotion in the younger man's eyes. Will rolled his eyes; body seemingly relaxed regardless of the tenseness of his voice. Aside from the scar on his cheek and the wind-tasseled hair - that smelled like the ocean when they laid next to each other at night - Will looked the same. As if nothing had changed. "Regardless, I haven't worn a well-tailored suit in many years, now have I, Will?" He responded to the silence, noting how different he looked. How un-Hannibal he was. Will sighed into the air, moving away from Hannibal as his eyes darted outside. He hated how tense this was, how much they denied by the silence. "Everything okay?" He mimicked Will's tone, and that made him laugh. Barely, just the rise and fall of his chest, a brief smile on his lips. It made Hannibal smile too, before returning to the seriousness of his question. Will guessed he shouldn't pretend anything, Hannibal could tell. He could always tell, regardless of how injured he was.

"We never talk about it." Gaze still on the waves outside, feeling Hannibal's piercing eyes on his body. Admiring, worrying, whichever Will accepted happily.

"About what?" Hannibal sounded serious, but Will huffed and looked back at Hannibal. Annoyed.

"Stop it." This stupid little game of silence, how much Hannibal must be enjoying it. Will groaned to himself as he realized how much Hannibal enjoyed watching him suffer. But he also enjoyed watching Will delight in it, so he didn't know why he didn't initiate the conversation.

"If you want to talk about something, Will, please do. I am not going to stop you." It was honest, and Will couldn't help but cave a bit at his words. He was there, of course, he would wait for Will to broach the topic. But still, he wasn't a man to ignore things altogether.

"I guess I'm just surprised we haven't talked about what happened." He was hesitant, wanting Hannibal to say it first. Why? Maybe the confirm that it did happen. Not just a nightmare. Take the lead, he begged in his head.

"What happened?" Maroon tinted eyes peering at him, waiting for him to crack. Will leaned his head against the wall and squeezed his eyes closed, trying hard not to find the nearest knife and cut into this coy and annoying man. But they made it too-far for that.

"Hannibal," Using his first name now, voice hinting on danger. That just made Hannibal raise an eyebrow. "You can't just keep pretending it didn't happen, cause guess what? It did!" Hannibal's gaze didn't change as Will's voice raised slightly, fist clenching. ‘How would you kill me?’ ‘With my bare hands.’

"Tell me, with your own words. Explain to me what happened?" It almost felt like Hannibal was Dr. Lecter again, asking about his nightmares. But this had happened. This was real. Will's body tensed, his walls trying to close in, but he couldn't deny himself. Not now. Not after all this.

"We killed the dragon. You and me." There was something in Will's eyes as he said it. A memory, a craving, a yearning. His eyes begged for Hannibal to agree to acknowledge.

"That we did, Will." His eyes glittered back, watching Will with the most intense gaze.

"It felt good. Purely good." Because it had, it had filled Will's body with a feeling so unique. Nothing like the times before, but he hoped it was like all the times ahead. He wanted to feel that again.

"Will you ever regret your actions that night, Will?" Hannibal's eyes questioned, and Will laughed, stepping closer.

"Never."

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #post-season 3 #tw: murder mention #fanfic #writing #prompt #askes #hannibal lecter

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mpxzane · 3 years

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“We all have dark thoughts dear, some of us are just not as good at hiding it as others.”

tw: death, abuse, violence, drugs

Broken;

“You called me a monster, you wanted a monster. And now… you’ve got one… aren’t I generous?”

As a young god, he was clumsy, messy, unorganized but - he did his best with the task he was given as his people’s god of death. He was lanky, awkward, ill-prepared for the large task of tending to the souls that he was graciously given the responsibility or ruling over. Others in his pantheon were by his side as he found his way, comforted him and helped him along so that he could be the great ruler of the underworld that he was born to be. However, nothing and no one could have taught him or told him how to juggle the struggle of his duties with falling in love. Nothing could have prepared him for the mess his own heart had gotten him into.

He was naïve, easily controlled by his emotions, and quick to fall in love. Another young goddess, also naïve and new to the world of feelings, relationships, and just anything outside of their duties as gods - caught the young god of death’s eye. Slowly the two came together, careful and unsure as they had never felt this way before, nor did they know they were even capable of feeling something so strongly for another. It was a crawling speed at which they finally collide but when they did… the feeling was as if two stars had just collided with one another. Sparks, flashing lights, racing hearts, love, and passion came in droves. Overwhelming the two young gods with things they had never experienced before, only seen others experience it or seen the mortals they watch over fall in love.

Perhaps the passion was too much, the love was too strong, the friendship not strong enough… because no matter what they felt in the beginning it all fell apart in an explosion in the end.

She made him love himself in a way he never had before because she loved every part of him. The clumsiness, the awkwardness, the lankiness, the unbearable smell he had no control over– and he loved all there was to love about her. From the love she had for her pantheon, the love she had for the mortals she was tasked with caring for, her graciousness, her smile, her eyes, her lips– he loved all of her just as she loved him. Yet, it wasn’t enough in the end. Although he chose her over his duties over, and over, and over again… she couldn’t do the same for him. He understood that the mortals in her care were important to her but, he wanted to be just as important to her… he just wanted to be equal to them in her eyes rather than less than.

Yet, she still chose them over him. To the point of leaving him forever… forever choosing her love for mortals over the love she shared with him.

He couldn’t understand it, was he too much? Was he not enough? Was he too much of the monster she used to say he was? In anger she had called him a disgusting monster… if she saw him as a disgusting monster then that is what he would become… just for her.

Nothing could have prepared him for falling love… but more than that, nothing could have prepared him for getting his heart broken into shards of broken glass. Shards he used to chisel out who he would become.

Ruler;

“When an owl screeches, someone nearby will die. If you hear a hoot, take a deep breath and count to ten.”

The soft jingle of bells follows Cizin as he walks the cold and quiet night streets of the Earth. The dark surrounding him as he lumbers along the cobblestone pathways. His wide owl eyes awaiting the one who shall join him in his trip back to Mitnal. His gaunt, decaying body dragging along the streets, the shuffle and jingle of the bells in his feather a haunting thing for anyone to witness. A literal manifestation of people’s worst nightmares. He was created from their worst fears. The fears of those terrified of death. His faithful and equally terrifying companion Muan flies overhead, helping the Lord of Death and Ruler of Mitnal decide who will be joining him tonight. His ominous size and daunting symbolism as his wings are spread in the air, terrifying anyone who hears his screeches.

With every daunting step of his boney feet along the pathways, he passes the doors of unsuspecting mortals. Each one doing all they can to keep the horrifying Cizin at bay. Some keep him placated without even realizing, the sounds of wailing women bringing him joy. As each impact of fist to cheek is felt as a vibration in his chest, her fear and torment feed every urge in his bones. Other doors hide crying children, being reprimanded by strict parents, their anguish and misery filling him with warmth as he passes by them. Nightmares wrack others, leaving them to roll around in restless sleep, the torment of their own minds wreaking havoc on their psyche was enough to make him sigh in contentment. He continues along the streets, bones and bells alerting anyone close enough to his presence.

It’s the quiet homes that pull at his ears, the silence leaving a hunger in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t happy knowing someone behind a quiet door isn’t experiencing some form of misery. This brings him into the homes of sleeping families, a wave of a hand and eyes glowing red bring nightmares and horrifying ideas into the minds of innocents.

Night after night, he would come to the surface to bring chaos to the minds of mortals. Collecting souls to follow him to Mitnal and accepting the offerings given to him by his loyal followers. There was something missing though, something he couldn’t quite place. He was bored. Bored of his work in Mitnal and on Earth. Mortals were becoming more and more comfortable with chaos and pain as they wrecked it on themselves and those around them just as much as he did. It wasn’t filling to hear a battered woman cry or children to weep in the night. The vibrations of their agony no longer fill him with happiness and placating his hunger. He needed something new.

This brought him to the home of a vile human being. His favorite kind. A vicious man as horrible as him. One who made it his purpose in life to steal from the poor, vulnerable, and innocent. A killer who paid no mind to the innocent men, women, and children who’s souls he sent The Lord every evening. Cizin did not fear him, nor was he happy to be taking over his life. This disgusting man made his job as a god so much easier, for this mortal was not restricted to the streets at night or to the confines of a decaying body. He’d seen other gods use mortals as their vessels, to blend in with the disgusting rats they so loved. He didn’t understand it at first but, he was bored and boredom brought experimentation. The Lord reached out to the mortal he respected as he slept and laid a skeletal hand on his slowly rising and falling chest.

A flash of light and Cizin had made his choice.

This should be fun…

Humanity;

“Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.”

When Ah Puch imagined humanity, he imagined those he saw in the dead of night, the souls he would take from the earth and leave to be tormented forever in Mitnal. The mortals he saw were the ones who wailed and screamed to keep him away, those who rightfully feared him and hated him. Those who worshipped him with all of their being and were shunned by their peers. What he did not imagine were those he would see in the light of day. The kind that were soft and sweet, forgiving, smart, and patient. He hated them, perhaps he was even jealous of them. Jealous of the love they give and also receive in return. Ah Puch spent centuries believing that he was happiest when he was feared and hated but, being surrounded by the rats he grew to hate… he realized why the one he loved chose them over him… which only made him hate them even more.

However, the god could appreciate them at the same time, for this side of humanity was what made the demons he influenced all the more powerful. Evil and filthy mortals that feed off the innocent ones, taking their fear and naivety and using it to make themselves more powerful. To Ah Puch mortals are nothing more than disposable rats, rats he can influence to do his bidding with no care if they die for him or not. Wanting nothing more than to cause chaos and torment their kinder counterparts. These easily manipulated rats are what helped Ah Puch find power. As he played the wealthy businessman and con artist, they were slinking around the back alleys of the cities he called home, taking control over the communities around him with threats and fear tactics. His worker rats made him stronger as he found power among stupid mortals that fell for anything that came out of his mouth. While his rats did his dirty work, he was able to charm his way into the lives and minds of some of the most powerful groups in the world. Surrounding himself with other people’s greed, lust, and their desire for misery and chaos, their destructive natures and skewed morals only made his work as a god of death and chaos that much easier.

It was also quite fun for him to watch their souls slowly turn to ash in the pits of Mitnal for the crimes he convinced them to commit.

If he’d known mortals were this easily manipulated and molded to his will, he’d have taken a vessel much sooner than he had. He found the rats were so easily turned self destructive, this discovery would become the easiest way he would fill the hunger for misery in his stomach. The pit that constantly needs to be filled with anguish, pain, and chaos. Torture at his own hands was few and far between as he had to keep up the mask with the more elite mortals. However, the hands of his minions were free to be covered in blood in his name, yet murder and torture just wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He needed a new method. Instead of hunting for himself or having his minions find an innocent face for him to torment, he found that simply supplying weak-minded mortals with inhibitors was just the thing he needed to placate his hunger. It was so easy for them to fall under the control of the inhibitors he and his minions would supply him, too weak to fight their own weak, mortal ways of becoming addicted to what he gave them.

Ah Puch started with alcohol, cocaine, and tobacco. Some of the easiest addictions he found that mortals would cling to if offered at just the right moment in their pathetic lives. Sex and love were next, discovering that to the weak minded people on his streets were just as susceptible to who addictions as any hard physical drugs. The new era mortals gave him so many more things to use against them, things that would bring them to their knees and right into his pocket. The amount of drugs and inhibition reducing pass times just increased with the creation of technology and the snowball of toxic relationships, just fueled him in new ways he never thought possible. At this point he barely had to put any work in at all… the idiot mortals were practically giving their corrupted souls to him on a silver platter. Nothing quite beats having some poor, weak minded mortal in his bed - high as a kite and confessing their undying love to him as their god, only to have a complete mental breakdown days or even hours later… This new era took him to a new level of chaotic euphoria.

With his hunger so easily filled thanks to humanity’s own downfall, he needed something to take up his time. These ventures only helped him get richer and richer so, by the end of the 1970’s he took up collecting. Collecting all different things mortals found disgusting or “evil”. He admired them. Admired these objects and all the stories and history they carry. There was something about the energy in his collection that comforted him. Knowing that all these objects that were considered “junk” or terrified mortals were safe with him, and knowing that even objects could hold evil and chaos like him brought him a level of what he could only describe as feeling like he was truly home.

Business;

“Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts… perhaps the fear of a loss of power.”

When European historians discovered the original stories of him and his pantheon, well the stories of the original Cizin, the skeletal god who walked the earth only at night. They gave him a new name, “God A” among what they were classifying as the alphabetical Mayan deities. Out of spite, he gave himself a new name. Zane. The final letter of the English alphabet inspiring his new spiteful expression of self. It was around this time he learned of the creation of a new, enchanted island. An island made just for gods and their half-blooded children. A bizarre concept to him, to imagine gods and goddesses of all pantheons loving together with their half-mortal children. He thought about at least visiting to see what all the fanfare was about, but the thought of running into his own half-blooded children caused him to hesitate. He had a few that he could remember but, none of them were worth any of his time. He had better things to worry about than a few mistakes that happened to be his children. As if any of them would actually want anything to do with him anyways, no child wants a psychotic monster as a father. Zane couldn’t imagine even if he did care (which he doesn’t) that his children would care to meet or learn about the monster their god parent was. So, he ignored them and let them go about their lives, whatever that may be.

Finally, he decided to feed his curiosity of this island he kept hearing about among the gods in the early 1990s. He moved into a dusty apartment above a dirty, old store in an obscure alley of the Red Light district he decided to lovingly name - Sombra Muerte. That store would easily become one of his favorite accomplishments. He chose not to promote his shop, word of mouth was enough for him and the quieter his store was the better in his opinion. There is a reason he used to leave dealing with customers and clients in the hands of his assistants and minions, he could be charming when he needed to - schmoozing had become quite a talent of his - however he could only handle but so much before he was tired of it. Customers came and went of the years and he did his best to keep the regulars happy and new customers in the mood to return. The front of the back alley curiosities shop was dark, brooding, gothic, evil, and odd. A perfect home for his collection. The basement of said shop held an even darker secret that the Lord of Death kept well. His empire of schemes was still going strong, being run out of the same place that masqueraded as an oddities shop. It took him over three centuries to build up his empire to encompass almost the entire mortal world, he wasn’t going to leave it in the hands of anyone else just so he could prance around in a city full of other gods.

With drugs, schemes, sex, and oddities taking up his time and filling that pit in his stomach, he rarely visits Mitnal anymore. Finding it more fulfilling to wreak havoc and create chaos among gods and half-bloods and it was much more fun than dealing with ratty little mortals all the time.

Since learning of the power of torment and torture that humans are able to withstand and still live. He took on a new job, one catering to those only of a specific nature. Discovering there are times when he can torture and torment without having to kill and still feel fulfilled. Then, watching the poor humans - well half-humans - become addicted to this pain and pleasure slowly lose themselves was all the more enjoyable for him. With drugs, sex and oddities taking his time and fulfilling his nature, he rarely visits Mitnal anymore. Finding that wreaking havoc among gods and half-bloods to be much more fun than playing with ratty, little mortals.

Changing;

“Nothing is so painful to the mind as a great and sudden change.”

It’s been years now. He’s intertwined himself with the half-mortals for many years and he’s been dealing with mortals for even longer. As his time living on Mount Phoenix grows - Zane can feel a change in him being sparked. A change that he is not sure if he likes. Perhaps it’s the influence of the many different personalities that he comes into contact with now, maybe it’s the several children of his that have come into his life. Either way he is not happy about any of it. He’s started to go soft that last year or so and there is now and in his gut. A stinging behind his eyes and a spark in his stone cold heart that hasn’t been ignited since his heart was shattered a millennia ago. The old feeling of disgust he held around demigods was not as strong anymore and he hated himself for the slight cracks that were appearing in his obsidian encrusted heart. Zane hasn’t been anything but ruthless, controlling, deceptive, and hateful since he was broken as a young god. New emotions have begun to bubble up inside of him, he’s started to struggle with his identity. Nothing he does feels right anymore, yet, the pit of anguish and chaos in his stomach is numbing. The cravings for misery and pain are lesser now, rather than all he could think about.

After a long, much needed, trip to his home in Mitnal he has returned just as confused as he was when he left. He knew what these feelings were and deep down he was terrified of them. The last time he allowed his emotions to be as strong as mortals, he fell in love and his heart was shattered into a trillion tiny pieces. Zane was left a tattered and broken version of the god he once was and he built himself back up into the monster he became. Nothing ever the same for him after that, never having felt anything but pain since she chose the mortals he grew to hate over him. It was easier for him to allow himself to be feared rather than to allow himself to be loved and give love. He never wanted to feel that pain again… Perhaps, that is why he keeps no attachments. You can’t get hurt by love if you have none.

Zane always held the belief that he would never love his children. To him they are all nothing but disgusting half-bloods, born from the species he can’t stand. Yet, something is changing there too. It’s a hard feeling to describe, and the closet this can get to in words is guilt. He feels guilt for leaving them to be raised by pathetic rats who hate him. If he’d tried to care for them sooner, they could have been raised by some great - a god! They would have grown to be so much more than just half-bloods with no direction. Perhaps one day he could grow to love them in his own way. They are of his blood and as much as Zane hates himself and mortals… maybe the combination will open a new part of him that he hasn’t reached yet.

#tales of cizin ;; self para #;; bio #[ updated bio to fit the new and improved ah puch ]#[ made him a little more palletable and easier to find connections with ]#[ its a long one oops-- ]#[ also peep the new sexy fc ]

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

The Shrill (1/?) (Sci-fi)

Characters: Henry Cavill x small! innocent female reader (AU)

Summary: Something was haunting the whole world. A trial to test everybody's will power to live that an unspecified sound could make humanity turn into a death zone with four factors to describe them once they've feel the attacks. You've thought everyone was considered safe in the black mansion you were living in because nobody has reacted to the Shrill for a long time. Until now...

Warnings: Murder. Blood. Angst. Choking. (Not in a sexual way, bb's. *wink wink nudge nudge* The sexual part will be on the next) Aggressive Henry but also sweet.

Words: 2,500+

A/N: This kept me up all night. It's all in my head and I tried to sleep it off until it reached to a smut and I was like..Ooooh. OOOOooooOOOH. I NEED TO WRITE IT OUT! Hehehe. Here you have it! 💕💕 You'll have your mad Cavill smut on part 2! Btw, I’ve written a body type, If it isn’t your body type then feel free to imagine yours instead. I couldn’t put “*your body type*” because I didn’t like the look of it in the overall imagine. Also, a certain scene was inspired by Divergent! Thank you!

REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE IT A LIKE, IF YOU’RE LIKING THIS SHORT SERIES! THANK YOU! TAGLIST IS OPENED IF YA WANNA BE TAGGED BY THE SMUT PART--I MEAN NEXT PART. OKAY? 😍😘

Taglist: @vikingsbifrost @sofiebstar

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots/fics are definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Fifteen different people in one huge mansion. A black mansion to be specific. The world has created and experienced chaos and madness as the entirety of humanity was now suffering from a wide unearthly signal that could get certain people to act berserk.

Nobody knew why. Nobody understands the reason and where does it come from, but the people who were living in the huge Mediterranean mansion that you were in were completely free from the violent reactions that may cause.

With violent reactions that can be considered brutal for a kill.

Everyone was laughing in joy, some even had alcohol wrapped around their fingers as they try to blur out all what was happening around the world.

You and Henry were sure that everyone was safe; until one person who had reacted on the sound.

There it was. That certain sound; a high pitched signal. Everyone looked at each other, sensing who were reacting towards the shrill. The effects were truly indistinguishable, you wouldn't know who and what will hit them when the signal can be heard. But, there were contingencies you've felt and heard while everyone was quarantined in the mansion.

There were four factors as to how you would react towards the sound. You've witnessed the most horrifying reaction which was Brute. Your own father has managed to terminate every single one of your family except for you. He was also included in the brutal murder as he aimed the gun to his head. You didn't know if it was intentional or not but he neglected you from the massacre and you didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

You've had hypothetical presentiments as to why they've reacted that way. Facts which are considered sixty-five percent accurate based on how you've been observing everyone's actions. The reason why they've began to violently react to the signal was because they never had committed any wicked sin and actually had a good heart.

Second was altruism. Some people have reacted towards the signal with goodwill and compassion. However, those people were thoroughly godawful in their lives. Committing such abysmal sins which can be considered unlawful to the law and especially to the eyes of God. They suddenly become all incorruptible and law-abiding after the shrill that they don't remember what happened nor do they remember who they were and have been.

Third was The Hushed. Humanity has given these people lemons and not bread. These people were the ill-tormented. They were given the affliction of never having to get to speak what their heart says no matter what happens. All their lives they have lived in agony and now they were receiving such curse into not having to talk nor having the fate on reacting towards their environment. They were completely the epitome of a coma. Their souls and mind were still living on earth but they were forbidden to move nor react towards their environment.

Last, but not the least as your current observations weren't fully factful; was the Unbalanced. They were the combination of every factors that has been said. They all have their days, it's either you react with brute, altruism or become the Hushed in every other day. They were the unstable ones, the people who you couldn't read when they are attacked by the shrill. To know that they are considered the Unbalance start from acting like a demented person until they were acting normal one day then not on some.

The one that you couldn't get the bottom of is why specific people weren't being attacked by the chime and you couldn't comprehend why you haven't been passively reacting towards the problem at hand and nobody could answer that question for you.

Thus, this ill-fated moment was the most terrifying memory you can ever decipher as the love of your life have caused you a busted lip and a frightening gun in between your forehead.

"Listen to me and I hope you take this into consideration, Nugget." Henry skeptically started; voice all calm and soothing, standing completely tall and jacked before you. Your height differences thoroughly sweeping to the eyes of everyone maybe even cute to some as you stood five foot one before him with big bones; wide hips and small chest. Technically, a bottom hourglass with those stomach flab hidden behind the hoodie of your boyfriend that reached your thighs. An imperfect interpretation of how humanly you were, unlike your love who seemed to be utter perfection.

The latter crossed his burly arms across his prominent chest, combing a hand through his curly locks and sighing deeply to himself like he was trying to understand what his thoughts has been telling him, he licked his lips before peering down at you, giving you that worried gaze he would give whenever his thoughts get the best of him.

You gave him a reassuring smile after he pulled you away from the group of people who were bonding all together. At first, you were questioning why he'd held your wrist, pulling you away from them. But, now you understood his actions.

Despite of sounding confident all the time, today the walls began to break as you've seen your powerful looking man so scared for what he could do to the people around him if he was attacked by the Shrill.

He'd languidly taken the gun latched in between his belt. A frown etched upon his features as his stubble was growing longer. Henry checked the black pistol in his hand, clicking the chambers open to see how many rounds it could take before shutting the clip back and handling the grip to you with a small, glum smile.

You've stared back at him with incredulity. The gun on your palm without knowing what to do with it. Your lower lips wanting to pop out because of what the message actually sounded like. A shake of your head was the only reply you could muster as you felt your heart being grabbed by a claw at a rickety future that was bound to happen because nobody knows how this trial would take.

"If...If I somehow react to it and be a part of the Brute," he trailed off, stepping closer to you and reaching out for the side of your jaw; his rough, calloused fingers dancing across the nape of your neck as he subtly gave a smooth caress. Beautiful ocean blue eyes with tiny specks of brown on his left eye, gazing down at you with a look you've seen since the moment you've manage to develop feelings with each other when the nightmare happened; utter love and respect, "---and if you must shoot me before I cause chaos to everyone, do it. Understand?"

Another shallow shake of your head, repeatedly doing so with a begrudging heart, "Henry," you pleaded, not wanting to do it as the action will fall on your hands. The responsibility of shooting him would be your nightmare forever. "N-No, I--I don't even know how to shoot a gun. I--I won't ever forgive myself if that ever happens. Ask me anything, but that!" the tremble of your voice was evident. You shook your head once more, objecting at his wishes and never submitting.

"Panic will consume you and once it does, you're surprised you've already shot me to death, Y/N." Henry tried to lighten the mood as he managed to get out a toothy grin. Though, you knew his heart was shaking at the painful truth he could decipher, "I'd rather accept that you shoot me. I'd rather see your face before I die,"

You could feel your eyebrows in a tight knot, your heart beat ceasing at the responsibility on your hands. The soft cookie in you coming out with tears forming around your eyes. Henry stared you down with a tender beam, entirely leaning down to plant a kiss on the side of your eyes to stop you from weeping out.

"Love can be a bloody brute, and I mean that literally, Nugget." the latter whispered, finally pecking your temples before the ones in between your eyebrows.

You've felt his warm breath that you wished not for it to turn cold. He was the only who you could depend. The shoulder whom you cry on and a person who you've loved to the fullest and killing him won't ever be the best idea for you.

Once the soft pillows of his lips left your forehead, he had lean his forehead with yours. Eyes fluttering closed as he took in everything. Your warmth, scent and soul like he wouldn't get to reach for them ever again. "Don't hesitate, okay? Just shoot."

The shiny metal barrel was now aimed between your head. A bloody lip and a wound on the end of your eyebrow have been given to you by your own boyfriend as he'd reacted very different with you. From the moment he was tightly closing his eyes as the shrill went on and on. You knew he was next.

At that, you've managed to speak your heart and tried getting his attention before he could even hurt the people around you who eventually became your friends.

You've rather let him hurt you than see him hurt others or even himself.

The mere image of you being violently hurt by a huge, brawny man wasn't completely pleasing to the eye. Everybody were scattered in the large living room where tables and chairs were ruined with troubled gazes in their eyes. They were stuck to their feet as they watched the scene unfold.

Irith, a police woman who lived in the same mansion as you do; snatched her gun out of her holster, quickly aiming the firearm at Henry who'd grabbed onto you, tackling you down the floor and in between you with his hand gripping your neck in a choke hold. The gun he'd given was taken away from you; maybe because you've technically given him the opportunity to do so and it was now in his palms.

"He's going to kill you, Y/N! You’re gonna die!"

Irith clicked the safety off her pistol and you've heard it. Your boyfriend's fingers wrapped around your neck as tight as he could with an apathetic gaze like your Henry wasn't even there at all. "No-No-No! He’s not! Please! Don't do a-a-anything! Don't hurt him! Move away!"

You croaked out and pleaded with a cough; forcibly clawing out to get his fingers away from you. To no avail, Henry was very much stronger than you and getting out of his hold was like asking the heavens to show you the pot of gold on the end of the rainbow.

"H-Henry," another croak before he tightened his hold around your neck. The air seeming to be cut off better than before. You've stared into his eyes, trying to find him in there but all you could see was a person whom you didn't know. A complete utter murderer who just wanted you dead.

You've stopped struggling against his hold, tasting the blood in your mouth as he breathed deep above you, his thick thighs on either side of you as he pinned you down. Irith didn't know what to do and dropped her aim. Panic settling her nerves as she watched you get choked by your boyfriend who'd been anything but violent to you before it even happened.

Your fingers left his, mind flying at the thought to fight him off. Shaky fingers reaching out to touch the side of his face which ignited a feral growl out of him once he'd felt your cold, trembling fingers. The other hand of yours nervously gripping onto the barrel, aiming it better between your forehead as Henry's face morphed into a painful wince.

You can't let him go that yet. No. Deep inside, you know he was still in there.

"Shoot...me," you whispered in between gasps and heaving breaths. The air soon cutting your lungs shut. "I-It's okay, lo-love. Y-You can shoot...shoot me,"

All the response he has ever did was a loud groan, his finger on the trigger but never flicking. He stared you down with that wavering gaze, like he has been struck by lightning. Your thumb reaching out for his lip, soothingly caressing with a firm will as you spoke out loud with a slowing heart, "It's...It's okay...I love you...Always..will,"

Something was shutting off inside him. All he could see was that you were a target he should eliminate because you were part of the humanity who tries to ruin the world because of their irresponsible actions. Yet, your voice. It was echoing inside his head, like a soothing one which could calm that certain switch and the nerves sending inside his brain for the kill.

The veins on the side of his head were popping out and you could see him struggling with something. His lips shaking as you felt it on your thumb. He tightly shut his eyes closed, hardly breathing out of his nose as he was whimpering like something was hurting him.

It was. His head was hurting because he was fighting it off.

You've caught his attention again, slowly caressing your fingers across the apples of his cheeks like a touch to reassure him to just do it and end his pain instead. You stared into his tightly shut eyes and gave a solemn smile, "Y-You're...the best I've ever had...D-Don't...worry, I-It's okay,"

Your pleading was like an ambulance being sent to rescue him. He snapped his head away from you, breath completely labored as he was wrestling with those small voices whispering inside his head; telling him to just pull the trigger and end his misery. But, the other echo screaming at him that pulling the trigger will just add more misery and probably even guilt and utter madness for himself.

"F-Fuck!" He lividly cussed out loud. Snapping his eyes open and you've seen the most grief-stricken picture. His eyes rheumy and dewy like he was on the verge of crying.

Then, you've heard the safety click back. His fingers shaking a lot more as he does so before falling on the floor, rolling away from you with a maddened groan.

He was in luck and also for you because you were close to having your breath taken away from you before he even managed to stop himself. You breathed in deep, like you were trying to catch your breath again and mewling at how free it was to feel your air back in your lungs.

Yet, you were about to reach out for him in the midst that you were still in a haze from being choked out. You've blinked your eyes open to see him scurrying away, feeling as if your heart was ceasing again. He stood on his feet, avoiding the terrified looks on everybody's faces. Though, the most painful part of everything that happened was not his aggressive action towards you. But, from how he bypassed your hold on his hand and thoroughly shunned away like you were disgusting.

Hence, you knew he was mad at himself and probably for you because you let it happen. The guilt beginning to eat him alive just before you even knew it.

MARSHALL LOOKS SO SO CUDDLY. I WANT PAPA BEAR TO JUST HUG ME ALL NIGHT. 😪😣😍😍

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