My theory is that Chester and Norris are our Jon and Martin, but when the explosion happened their paired souls/consciousness was shattered into many parallel versions of themselves. Chester and Norris are just one set of many Jons and Martins yeeted out into all the different universes, but in this one they had the misfortune to end up trapped in FR3-D1. Maybe instead of just one 'somewhere else', there are thousands of them. Maybe all the somewhere else fics are correct, each representing a different version of our original Jon and Martin.
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hello dere simon (am i getting ur name right???)
First of all, lemme just say, i absolutely adore ur works n writing style!! Ur so talented!! Keep being u :3
anyways,
Not sure if u write for her, but could u do Farah with a super, like, out-of-pocketly romantic, gender neutral s/o? (Keep it sfw, if u could :P)
Like,
'Hey, can you pass me a snack?'
"How am i supposed to pass you to yourself?"
'W -- .. what?'
"What?"
'Huh?'
"Yeah, sure. Here!" (throws bag of chips at her) "I love you!"
'..Huh??'
Hey there! And yeah, you are! I do go by Simon online :> And thank you, that's very kind of you :> I hope you can enjoy this as well, then! And don't worry, my blog is entirely SFW, I don't post smut ^^
Farah with an Overly Romantic S/O
I’m sorry, but I actually feel as though Farah wouldn’t get as flustered as you described her to be. She’s a confident woman, who knows her worth. I think she’d actually quip back at you:
Hey, can you pass me a snack?
How am I supposed to hand you to yourself, sweetheart?
Well, I would prefer something overly sweet right about now. Come here.
Farah knows her worth. Years of being talked down upon, years of being degraded and treated as something subhuman filled her with a certain kind of rage that I couldn’t even begin to describe if I tried. She’s not going to get shy around you. Sure, she can be extremely sweet towards you too, but she’s probably not going to get too flustered if you’re being overly romantic towards her. She’s suffered enough, don’t you think you deserve a soft epilogue, my love? She certainly believes so. In fact, she can be quite playful, so I think she might actually just try to fluster you instead, whether it be in Arabic or English doesn’t matter to her. Besides, if you get too cocky around her, she will push your buttons as well. Oh, you wanna kiss her so bad, don’t you? It actually makes you look stupid. Well, she’s going to take advantage of that. If you rile her up enough, despite not being the tallest, she will trap you against the wall and work her charm. In spite of everything that has happened to her, she hasn’t given up entirely on love yet. Sure, it seems unlikely to someone like her, but if there’s a will there’s a way. She will playfully tease you instead, doing everything she can to fluster you. She’s extremely grateful to have found someone, who loves her despite everything, though. Yes, she’s kinda messed up, she has to consider her every move carefully before she’s being branded a terrorist by the rest of the world. The fate of her people resides upon her shoulders, after all. But underneath all of that? She’s actually a really loving and sweet woman, who would love nothing more than to ride a motorcycle with you and gaze upon the stars of Urzikstan with you. If she’s being soft? Don’t tease her. She lets her walls around you for once, it’s more than anyone else ever gets to experience.
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au where when a Death Eater is killed, they can actually not die, on one condition:
Their heart must be pure.
This doesn't mean they never ever did anything wrong. That's impossible if you're human. No, this means that whatever they've done, it's for a selfless reason. That whatever bad they've done for selfish reasons, they've fully regretted, repented, and set out for redemption. That in their heart of hearts, they are no true Death Eater, because true Death Eater have no compassion, or selfless love. Selfless Love is a pure thing, and if that exists in the heart, then they may survive being killed.
And there's another thing: they return to the physical state they were in before taking the Dark Mark. It's all effectively "wiped clean", as it were. Of course, the actions remain, as do the mental scars, but the physical body is now back to when it was still pure of this evil as a little nod to the purity of their heart.
During the second war, then, there are a few Death Eaters who do not die. But only the fewest:
The most famous example? Severus Snape, who is all but a mere child, barely touching adulthood. Who's small and underweight, whose body is still riddled with scars from the Good Guys. Who's so young it's frightening to think he became a death eater at this age because there's something so broken and fragile about him. How did he manage to survive through that?
And then... And then there's Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black.
Who... Who's a literal child.
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warrior nun, ava silva/sister beatrice, 12k, T
Beatrice is standing stiffly across the room. She rolls her shoulders, rolls her head on her neck, stares down at her hands. An unfamiliar smile slides across her face-- and Ava knows all of Beatrice’s smiles now, knows the polite nun smile and the customer service smile from the bar and the friendly smile for Hans and the small genuine one for Camila and the careful genuine one for when Ava makes her laugh and the less careful open one when Ava surprises her with coffee on the rare days she wakes up first-- and Ava’s stomach twists.
or: the wraith takes beatrice
AO3
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kpanniversary2024, prompt 5: Regret
"It's easy for you to pretend to not be bothered by it," Vegas accused Pete, spiteful. He wasn't looking at him as he did.
"You weren't the one who actively hurt the most important person in your life."
Pete's ears were buzzing. There was sweat trickling down his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, reaching his collarbone. His trigger finger twitched inside his palm that was clenched into a fist.
Pete was angry. No, he was fucking furious.
Vegas realized after two seconds the stupidity of his words, for he hesitantly lifted his head to look at Pete, apprehension mixed with fear in his gaze.
A hint of satisfaction creeped into Pete's bones, leaving him breathless. He swallowed the poison down, tasting the bitterness of his mistakes - of his choices - and started listing them off one by one to a Vegas who clearly didn't want to listen.
"Who was the one who left bruises on your face that needed weeks to disappear?"
Pete couldn't recognize his voice.
"Who was the one who rendered your arm useless by lodging a bullet inside it?"
This wasn't his voice.
"Who was the one who brought a knife to his own throat, threatening to leave you behind with it?"
It wasn't. It couldn't be.
He raised his palm, his scar a reflection on Vegas' wet, shiny eyes. He reacted as if it burned him.
"Who, Vegas?"
Vegas' voice was weak, barely there. "I deserved it-"
"You don't get to fucking say that to me!"
And then,
"You don't get to use his language to talk to me!"
all in one breath.
Something snapped. Pete felt it before he saw it, before he took a good look at Vegas' face and saw his father linger there.
"Where are you going?"
Are you going to leave me?
"Out."
Away from here. Away from him.
Away from myself.
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