#cynthia rose imagine

[cheemken]

I sometimes think about that one ask I sent where the Champions meet their messed up selves in the villain Diantha AU. But like imagine if they met themselves in the Villain Champion AU. It’ll be way, WAY, worse then the Villain Diantha AU one

Cause like, they’re all evil, with Iris and Hau being manipulated by them. And because Cynthia fused with Giratina for practically nothing. Shes just evil to be evil. Lance has a body count, Iris is one mean comment away from pulling a Team Plasma, and Leon is a tyrant who sided with Rose

But god, when they see Iris. She’s just a shell of her old self and she’s very violent and quick to anger. But they can tell that she’s nervous around them, like they’re gonna do something to her if she messes up

All of them are gonna be horrified about what the other champions have done to her, just because she almost didn’t meet their expectations. Cause if she faced another tough challenger and almost lost but kept her title. Like the original champions would be proud of her but the villain champions would torture her again and make her training more vigorous

OUUGGHHJCBCMCXMD

God please Diantha would throw hands w her villain counterpart fr

But yo that's so sad tho imagine them taking Iris and Hau from their villain counterparts and asking them what's really wrong, and Hau's there telling Diantha everything, cause ofc, he still had that mindset, the one talking to him is Diantha, this may not be the Diantha in his universe but the fear is there yknow.

And idk, I imagine villain au Hau being like,, ah, idk the English word for this,, shit wait actually idk the English word for this gimme a sec, like... Two faced???? That's really not the exact translation that I'm looking for but that's a bit close ig. Anyways yeah, yknow, Dia really spoiled Hau in the villain au, and Hau became somewhat of a mama's boy bc of that and he's such a lil shit that he'd often taunt Iris saying that he's Diantha's favourite, even telling Dia what Iris would hide from them just so she can get in trouble, and he'd spare himself the same fate, never admitting he's also scared to be punished

And imagine him telling (not villain) Diantha abt everything that happened tho, how Iris almost lost and if she didn't pull through, she would've lost her champion title, and he's there bringing the spotlight to himself, saying how he's just as strategic as her now, and no one could even come close to beating him

Imagine his surprise when Diantha just softly says she's proud of him, then goes to Iris and hugs her, tells her that it was okay, she did her best, and she's also really proud of her too. Imagine both their surprise tho, cause Iris was also expecting this Diantha to slap her and get mad and get Cynthia to trap her in the Distortion World too, only for Diantha to pull Iris closer to her, and Iris breaks, crying her heart out, clinging to her, her tears staining Dia's blazer.

God just cjmxxbdk the other champions asking Iris and Hau what else the other champions had done to them, Iris kept quiet, and as much as Diantha hated it, she used that fear Hau had and asked him instead, and the boy told her everything

Imagine how much that'd fuck them up tho, how much damage their villain counterparts caused, not only to their region but to other people as well, to Iris and Hau especially, that those two kids, their kids, are so fucking terrified of them, terrified of making a mistake, terrified of getting punished.

[ellswritings]

Masterlist ;)

*= smut

The Hunger Games

Imagines

Finnick Odair

Wasting All These Tears On You

Peeta Mellark

They Don't Know About Us

Katniss Everdeen

Johanna Mason

Haymitch Abernathy

Cato Hadley

Marvel Sanford

Clove Kent

Coriolanus Snow

Sejanus Plinth

Series

none yet :(

Teen Wolf

Imagines

Scott McCall

Stiles Stilinski

Derek Hale

Jealousy, Jealousy

Peter Hale

Chris Argent

Lydia Martin

Issac Lahey

Allison Argent

Malia Hale/Tate

Liam Dunbar

Kira Yukimara

Series

Lupus Nox- S1 Cast, Prologue, S1 E1, S1 E2,

The Maze Runner

Imagines

Thomas

Newt

Minho

Gally

Aris

Brenda

Sonya

Harriet

Series

none yet :(

Marvel

Imagines

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Loki Laufeyson

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Logan Howlett

Peter Quill

Gamora Ben Titan

Peter Parker

Peter Parker (TASM)

Thor Odinson

Michelle Jones-Watson

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Series

none yet :(

Once Upon A Time

Imagines

Regina Mills

Emma Swan

Killian Jones

David Nolan/Prince Charming

Peter Pan

Rumplestiltskin

Neal Cassidy/Baelfire

Series

none yet :(

Bridgerton

Imagines

Anthony Bridgerton

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Colin Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

King George

Simon Bassett

Eloise Bridgerton

Series

none yet :(

Harry Potter

Imagines

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermoine Granger

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

James Potter

Draco Malfoy

Lucius Malfoy

Tom Riddle

Luna Lovegood

Bellatrix Lestrange

Series

none yet :(

Glee

Imagines

Finn Hudson

Sam Evans

Jesse St. James

Quinn Fabray

Santana Lopez

Brittany S. Pierce

Rachel Berry

Mercedes Jones

Mike Chang

Noah Puckerman

Series

none yet :(

Criminal Minds

Imagines

Aaron Hotchner

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Matthew Simmons

Luke Alves

Kate Callahan

Series

none yet :(

9-1-1

Imagines

Evan 'Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Bobby Nash

Athena Grant

Howard 'Chimney' Han

Maddie Buckley

Series

none yet :(

Gossip Girl

Imagines

Chuck Bass

Nate Archibald

Dan Humphrey

Serena Van Der Woodsen

Blair Waldorf

Carter Baizen

Series

none yet :(

Pitch Perfect

Imagines

Jesse Swanson

Beca Mitchell

Chloe Beale

Bumper Allen

Cynthia Rose

Benji Applebaum

Donald Walsh

Fat Amy/Patricia Hobart

Series

none yet :(

[averagewriter-inthedark]

My Heart Will Go On 🤍 | Bradley Bradshaw Imagine | Titanic AU

Set where Bradley falls in love with a first class passenger aboard Titanic

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: third class!Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x first class!female reader (romantic), Natasha Trace x Jake Seresin (romantic), Robert Floyd, Mickey Garcia, Reuben Fitch, Javy Machado, OCs for family members.

Content Warnings: fluff, major angst, profanity, classism and mentions of sexism & misogyny, historical event disaster, death, emotional, light smut-Minors DNI! | female!reader (she/her) wc: 18.3k (this is long be warned)

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: On Wednesday April 10th, 1912, RMS Titanic set sail from Southampton, England on her maiden voyage to America. She carried thousands of passengers from across the world, including 21-year-old American socialite Y/n L/n. No one could have predicted the outcome the ship they said was unsinkable would endeavor. And for Y/n, never did it come to her she’d be boarding a ship with a path of leading her to her soulmate.

Note: Y’all I literally was a MESS during the final few scenes I wrote—I literally had to stop because I was crying. It didn’t help I was playing the Hymn of the Sea and My Heart Will Go On and envisioning the scenes as I wrote them. It was too much really—and I always cry at the end of the movie so it felt the same. Please not this is NOT an exact retelling of the movie plot, i referenced a lot but also did research on the real story of titanic (for example how it was a moonless night so it was very dark). Anyway I’m sorry if this made you a mess like it did to me….we can cry together.

———————————-

1958

“Grandma, can you tell us the story about how you met Papa?”

Crickles rose next to her eyes when she softly smiled, bringing the bed sheet up to tuck in the children. Only the dim light from the candle lit the room. Down the hall, the faint sound of Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me To The Moon,” on the record player could be heard. She didn’t even hear her daughter, the children’s mother, come in.

“Honey, you both need to sleep,” the woman knew the subject was a sore one for her mother and father, despite being why they met. In her nearly forty years of life, she’d only heard the story first hand from them once. Any other information was the lectures in history class of the historical tragedy. “We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow so you need to be well rested,” her look was scolding, causing the children, ten and twelve, to pout.

“Pleaaase.”

“Amelia.”

“It’s only half past eight, mama.”

“Yeah, please just one story,” Rebecca pleaded with her sister, “You said they met on a boat like the one we went on last summer!”

Their mother hushed them, “No, I said they met on a ship—that’s very different from the little steamboat your uncle and aunt have.” Her voice goes lower, careful to not to disturb her father from down the hall, “and what did I tell you about asking such things?”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” the older woman finally stepped in, casting a soft look to her daughter.

She didn’t look convinced, aware of the painful memories the story would bring up. Losing friends and family so suddenly on what was supposed to be the journey of a lifetime. “Mom…..”

“Trust me, Cynthia, it’s okay. You need not to worry about me,” she turns to her grandchildren who appear confused and a little ashamed for causing their mother to scold them. “I think it’s time these little ones get a little history lesson about your father and I. How the Bradshaws came to be.”

“Are you sure?” Cynthia stepped further into the room. She didn’t want to admit it, but she too wanted to hear the story again. The first time had been when she was eighteen, confronting her parents after she found newspaper clippings and the ticket for a first class passenger reading her mother’s name, Y/n L/n, stashed away in a box when they were moving. That’s when they sat her down at the table detailing everything from start to finish.

By the time her parents finished telling the story Cynthia was in a puddle of tears. She understood why her parents always had a haunted look in their eyes whenever April 14th rolled by. It never left them until the 16th, since the 15th was just as significant. Her older sister by eight years, Caroline, warned her to refrain from asking their parents about how they met and she soon realized why. After doing the math, her sister’s birthday was exactly nine months to the day, born on the 14th of January in 1913.

As she got older Cynthia met more children like her. Those whose parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts were among the nearly 2,300 passengers and crew aboard. Children whose family members survived had the same look when the anniversary passed. Just like Cynthia’s parents.

“Mom,” she took a seat on the armchair in the corner of the room, “I don't want you to relive it if it’s too much.”

“I appreciate your concern, honey,” Y/n smiled at her, “but I’ve learned to cope and manage. Your father has too,” she watched Cynthia visibly relax. “In fact, he and I have talked about it a few times since you left home. And I promise to keep it short—and not go into detail about….you know,” she didn’t have to explain further for Cynthia already knew what she implied.

With a nod from her daughter, Y/n adjusts her position so she’s seated more comfortably, allowing the children and Cynthia to see her better. “To tell you the story of how Papa and I met,” she begins, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting against her. “We have to travel back forty-six years. To April tenth, nineteen-twelve…..”

“Hurry, Y/n, we’re gonna be late for check-in!” Her father shouted from in front of her, moving at a fast pace with her mother and younger brother. Clutching a bag in each hand, Y/n tried not to trip while apologizing left and right to people she bumped with. The dress she had on was tight, the skirt brushing against her ankles and Y/n wished she opted out of wearing the pillbox hat her mother insisted she wore.

“Sorry!” She said when she caused a man to drop his basket of apples. “I’m so sorry!” As much as she wanted to help she couldn’t, the whistle of the luxurious ship sounded off in the near distance, resulting in more stress to consume her. Her family was supposed to be dropped off right in front of the dockway, but due to a rough start in the morning they ended up getting caught in traffic just before the turn into the lot. Now they were running with little time until the ship would set off for Cherbourg, France, the first of two stops before sailing to New York.

It wasn’t a classy sight for such a wealthy family. Surely their fellow first class passengers were watching them with disapproval. But then again they always did.

The L/n’s were not your average high class family. While the majority of the first class aboard came from generations of money, Y/n’s father built his real estate business in New York from the ground up after being in the working class for thirty years. They were what you would call ‘new’ to the high class scene and still did things working class people did. She and her brother went to public schools instead of private institutions. They didn’t have an army of maids and butlers in their home, her mother preferring to do the housework herself. Y/n was in her last semester of NYU with passions of being a writer. And her father was very involved in his business despite making it big to the point he could just hire a bunch of people to run it for him.

To them, money was a privilege that could easily be taken away at any point. They were humble in their wealth, sharing it by putting resources into the low income neighborhoods they once lived in. Unlike their newfound peers who’d rather stockpile it away for safekeeping.

Yeah, even with money you hide away from judgment.

Out of breath already, Y/n finally reached the corner her parents had just turned to arrive at the docking platform. There was no stopping the awe-struck expression in face the second her eyes landed on the giant vessel. The smell of fresh paint struck her nose, gaze drifting to the large lettering that sent chills along her arm.

Titanic.

The rumors did no justice when describing the beauty of the ship. Titanic was magnificent. She wondered if her parents were as captivated as she was.

“Y/n! Come one!”

Scratch that thought. Maybe they weren’t.

Picking up the pace, Y/n hauled up onto the platform with her ticket in hand, amazed she didn’t drop it in the chaos.

“Ticket please,” the man dressed in a White Star Line uniform said with his hand out. Her parents and brother were standing off to the side, now taking in the beauty of the ship since they made it on time.

Handing over the paper, the man read over her information and stamped it, allowing her to pass where another man was waiting to escort them to their suite. Settling in Y/n unpacked her gowns and nightwear, hanging them up to prevent wrinkles. Makeup and what little jewelry she had filled the vanity, school books claiming the nightstand. When she finally finished her back hit the bed with an audible huff of relief, sinking into the mattress adorned with fine silk sheets.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” her father said when he found her just a short moment later. “Lunch will be served and my colleague wishes for us to join him and his son. He’d like for the two of you to meet.”

Instantly Y/n bolted up from the bed, suspicious in her eyes, “Why?” There was no denying the possible reason. At 21 years old, finding a suitor to settle down with was expected of her. Personally Y/n wanted to focus on her studies. Not finding a husband. Her parents never pressured her to find someone, but now it seems her father was suggesting such.

Her mother comes into the room, wearing the same expression as her. Her eyes go straight to Y/n’s father, “I told you, I don’t like that man—nor his son. He has no respect for you and you know that!”

“I know that, dear,” he sighs, exhausted in his tone. “Believe me I’m very aware. Look, I’m not trying to set her up on my own accord—in fact, I’ll be happy to decline a proposal if that is what he’s seeking. But he invited us to have lunch with them and I accepted because that’s how things are done. Honey,” he faces Y/n, giving her an assuring gaze, “I’m not pressuring you into anything. Okay? If I said no to this he’d likely pester the entire journey to America and I did not want that for us. So please, give me an hour of your time to get through this meal? Bore the man if you have to so he’s less interested.”

Y/n was eternally grateful she was blessed with a father who did not engage in the typical high class behaviors. Any other man would be presenting her hand in marriage like an auction. She’d seen it with the few friends she’d made. It always started with a ‘meeting’ arranged by the fathers of two people and before they knew it a rock was on the girl's finger.

Her father respected her. He warned her before she sat at the table and found out for herself. Even given his blessing to scare the man off or assuring he’d say no to a proposal. Not many fathers would do that.

“Thank you for telling me in advance, dad. I’m starving too so let’s get this over with,” she makes a face, knowing what he was going to ask of her next. “And I promise to watch my tongue.”

That didn’t last long. She knew the second she sat at the table it wouldn’t. Not only was her father’s colleague the most arrogant man on the planet with no respect for his peers, but his son was as equally the egotistical maniac as he was. Throughout the entire lunch, Y/n didn’t know who exactly was trying to win her affection. Both men seemed to be trying to one up the other. How odd of the father for doing such when it was thought he planned for his son to hopefully become her suitor.

Not the case really.

One comment from Richard to undermine her intelligence had Y/n bolt from the table with a sneaker remark, disregarding the looks of disdain from the two men and others. Her parents remained invested in their meal, shooting a smirk of approval to their daughter.

“You promised me this would be a mutual agreement!” The man shouted in frustration. Her father simply sipped his champagne.

“I promised no such thing, William. I said your son may meet my daughter, but I made no commitments for her to agree to anything more.”

The fresh air and sound of the sea hit Y/n as she stepped onto the deck, overlooking the rear of the ship where the second and third class decks were. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath before slowly letting it exhale. Men like Willam and Richard were not the first she’d interacted with. Unfortunately most of the male population in high class shared personalities in similar nature.

Egotistical, arrogant, narcissistic. The list goes on. Very little respect for women or those of lesser wealth. Y/n prayed she’d never settle for someone like that. The marriage would be a disaster.

Opening her eyes, Y/n rubbed her hands along the smooth railing before slightly leaning over to get a better look. Murmurs filled her ears, children laughing from the lower decks, the band playing a light melody. It was a pretty scene with the sun high in the sky and seagulls flying overhead. They’d be docking in France soon before stopping in Ireland until finally crossing the Atlantic.

As her eyes drifted over the area, Y/n locked gazes with a man who made no attempt to hide he was staring at her. It caught her off guard, but the young woman couldn’t let but stare herself. He was the most handsome man she’d laid eyes on. Brown hair with almost a golden hue to it. Though it was hard to see the color of his eyes from the distance she assumed they were as beautiful as the rest of him. He was tall—even with the distance she saw in the way he towered over the railing he was beside.

And he was looking at her like she was the only girl in existence.

Blinking, her admiration was cut short by the sound of a cheerful voice shouting, “Y/n!” Spinning around, Y/n was met with the dazzling smile of her best friend, Natasha Trace. Surprise etches her expression.

“Natasha!” The two embrace in a hug. “What—you didn’t tell me you were returning to America. I thought your studies were to finish in London.” Natasha was the only genuine friend Yn had made since her father hit the money pot. Maybe it was because Nat’s family was of humble beginnings like the L/n’s.

“I discussed the potential of finishing the semester early,” Natasha explained, beaming and looking radiant with the way the sun was hitting her. “My father sent a ticket through the post once I told him the news.”

“When was this?” Y/n had recently visited the woman when her family were in London. Her father had a business convention and with the finishing of Titanic, he wanted them to be one of the ships first passengers. During her visit, Nat revealed no indication she’d be joining the maiden voyage to New York.

“Shortly after you departed for Southampton. I only had few exams remaining and my professors were very forthcoming with allowing me to do them early. Plus I missed home. My mother has been writing me daily it seems—waiting for me to come home. I think my father spent all his fortune to get the ticket to me in time.”

“I’m amazed he managed to get one,” Y/n commented, taking her arm in hers as they begin to walk away from the railing, but not before casting a second glance to the man on the lower deck. A swarm of butterflies filled her to see he was still looking at her, his friend having to wave a hand in front of his face as though to pull him from a trance. Another gentleman beside him appeared to be staring at Natasha. She must’ve noticed, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks as Y/n escorted her away. “I heard many had to trade services and goods to get one.”

“I can see why,” Natasha waved to the beautiful vessel surrounding them. “This place is magnificent. Almost as though it were a ship made of dreams.” They continued to walk along the deck, nodding to passengers and crew members who greeted them.

“What are your plans once we arrive home? Off to visit your family I presume?”

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, waving to a small child. “I’ll spend a few days with them—my sisters cannot wait to hear of my adventures in England.”

Y/n hums, turning her head slightly with a knowing gaze, “And what of Alan?” She watched a tired sigh leave Natasha, face becoming defeated.

“He expects an answer from me as soon as I return.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Of course,” Natasha replies, stopping to face her. “I’ve weighed in the advantages marrying him would bring me and my family—my mother is sure to remind me in every letter she writes. He is kind, generous, not like the other men my father wished me to court.”

“But….” Y/n trails off, eyes sympathetic.

“But,” her friend sighs again, “I do not feel what a woman is supposed to feel for her potential fiance. I can’t bring myself to love him. I like him, Y/n, I truly do. But I’d only be hurting the both of us by accepting.”

“Then tell him the truth,” Y/n tells her, bringing a comforting hand to Natasha’s shoulder. “Alan is an understanding man—you’ve been a friend of his since grade school. I doubt he would fault you for not being able to return his affections. Why subject the both of you to pain and a miserable marriage? What happens if you marry him and then fall in love with another?”

Natasha didn’t answer, glancing to the floor with heat coating her cheeks. Y/n squeezed the shoulder she was touching, “Come, let us have a drink,” she began to lead Nat to one of the many lounges in first class, “Take your mind off things while I tell you all about the father and son I recently had lunch with.”

“That sounds interesting…and a little concerning.”

“Trust, dear friend, it was.”

Later on in the evening, Y/n was pulling Natasha to her room to hand over clothing for her to change into.

“This is a horrible idea, Y/n!” She spoke in a rush, untying her dress and moving to be hidden from view.

“Oh it’s not so bad,” Y/n laughed, tossing the clothing she wore on the bed before pulling on the slacks and shirt. “Have some fun. Were you not the one who wanted to explore the ship earlier?”

“Not by sneaking into the third-class compartments!” She waved a hand like it was obvious, “We’re not allowed down there. What if we get caught?”

“That’s why I told you to have your ticket with you,” Y/n reminded her, placing her own ticket into the pocket of her trousers. “And your identification card. If we get caught we show them and if they still do not believe us I will send for my father.”

“You’re awfully confident about this.”

“Natasha, who’s to say we’ll get the chance to travel this ship again once we dock in America? Let us make the most of it while we can.” Placing a scarf around her neck, Y/n nods for Natasha to follow. “Follow my lead.”

Getting caught by crew members when passing between the class decks was what Y/n was prepared for when she first made the impulse decision to explore the ship. Running into the man she had a staring contest with earlier in the day was not something she had planned for.

“Hello,” she breathed out, hands clutching his biceps when he caught her before she could hit the ground after running straight into him without paying attention. He was even more beautiful up close. Hazel eyes boring into her with a small smile painting his lips. He must’ve recognized her too.

“Hello.”

“I think we lost them,” Natasha caught up to her, equally out of breath before freezing at the sight of the group of six men staring at them like deer in headlights. “Oh…”

“Ladies,” the blonde haired man, who Y/n caught looking at Natasha that afternoon tipped his messenger boy hat at them.

“S-sorry,” Y/n stuttered, flickering between the men but always coming back to the one holding her arms. Finally she broke away, embarrassed to have been seen in such a state. “I should have been watching where I was going—.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, voice as soft as his eyes. “No trouble at all, ma’am. Are you both okay?”

“We’re—.”

“There you are!” A shout captured all’s attention, Natasha and Y/n groaning before shooting apologetic frowns to them. “Stop them!”

“We have to go!” Nat grips onto Y/n’s forearm, pushing her to move. “Y/n, I’d like to make it back home and not be forced off this ship in Ireland!” Frantic sounds of approaching footsteps could be made out by the two crew members pursuing the women.

“We know a way,” the man she had yet to learn the name of suddenly said, holding his hand out. “C’mon.”

Maybe it wasn’t wise for two ladies to be following a group of strangers. But considering they’d be facing the wrath of their parents if caught they impulsively agreed, Y/n’s hand taking his. The blonde offered his to Natasha, the woman looking hesitant before accepting and the two led them away from the deck and towards a corridor. With the remaining of their group following from behind, it made it easier for the crew members to lose sight of them.

Music filled their ears, as did the chatter of a crowd the closer they got to wherever they were taking them. Y/n and Natasha shared a look, equally confused, concerned, and intrigued. When they turned the corner into a spiral stairwell, it revealed the source of the noise. Third-class passengers had gathered what appeared to be a celebration. Children and adults were dancing, drinking beer which had to have been smuggled in. A group of men were playing instruments while couples standing in corners displayed affection to one another.

A smile formed on Y/n’s lips. The energy was contagious, making her want to join in on the festivities. She’d almost forgotten what brought her there in the first place.

“They won’t come down here,” his voice brings Y/n out her thoughts, the young woman remembering she was still holding his hand. It felt warm in her own, bringing a heat to her veins that carried to her face.

“Are you sure?”

“They would’ve been here by now if they were that desperate to catch you two.” Pulling her further in, he and his friend let go of the women. “Apologies for being so forward—didn’t think you two would mind seeing you were in such a hurry.” A couple of the friends they were with already went off to mingle, leaving the four off to the side.

“We should be thanking you really,” Y/n replied, hand moving to run her arm nervously. “You’ve saved us from a load of trouble.”

“Looked like it,” the blonde removed a cigarette from his tin, lighting it with match. Offering one to them only Nat accepted, which would’ve been seen as scandalous to their peers above. “So…what brings a couple of first-class gals below deck?”

The two are instantly flustered, “H-how did you—.”

“Well, for starters there’s the fact we saw you ladies this morning on the first-class deck,” Green eyes drift over to Nat, causing her to blush. “And though you dressed the part to pass as someone like us, anyone could tell from the way you carry yourselves that you belong above.”

They didn’t know whether they should be impressed or offended.

“We wanted to explore the ship,” Y/n admits, arms going behind her back like a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. The man she was interested in raised a brow, “By dressing up like third-class passengers?”

Natasha made a sound, muttering, “I warned you this was a bad idea.”

“I realize that now, Natasha.”

“What are we supposed to do?” She groaned, “Wait it out till the sun rises? Or when we dock in Ireland when they’re easily distracted?”

“Do you want me to answer that with a plan or were those rhetorical questions to further prove you were right?” Y/n glanced around the place, aware of her friends' annoyed gaze compared to the men who looked amused. Huffing, Y/n faces them, “It’s come to my attention we have yet to know the names of our saviors. Mind telling us, and anything you could offer to help our situation.” Instantly the two straighten.

“Jake Seresin,” said the blonde.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” his hand extends to formally introduce himself. Y/n shakes it, mirroring the smile he gives her. “And about your situation, I’m afraid you can either attempt to sneak past the guards during shift change or like your friend mentioned, wait till we dock in Ireland.”

“That’ll be just before noon,” Natasha sounded like she didn’t like that option. “Your parents would notice you’re not in your room when it comes time for breakfast. We must return as quickly as possible.”

Bradley tilted his head, “Well if that’s the case then you better off with your chances sneaking past the crew, Miss…..” The trail off in his words made her realize she hadn’t given her name. But then again he may have heard when Natasha said it moments prior.

“Y/n L/n,” his reaction to her name was visible. As was Jake’s when she added, “and this is my friend, Natasha Trace.”

Both men shared a look. “L/n, huh? Like the name of that big building on 21st street?”

“That’s the one,” her lips tightened, ready for the judgment and assumptions about to be thrown at her.

Nat felt the same when Jake added, “And your daddy is the one competing with Rockefeller for king of the oil business. I remember reading something about it in the Times.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to use the term ‘king,’” she crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with her walls already in place. “And I wouldn’t trust all you read in the papers. My father has high respect for John—he taught him everything he knows.”

Jake raised his hands in defense, “I mean no offense, ma’am. How about you tell me more over a drink?” The look of surprise had the man grinning, Y/n having to bite back a giggle to not embarrass her friend. She gave Natasha an encouraging nod that read, ‘he’s on the make with you!’

“While you two are chatting,” Bradley suddenly cut in, a determined look in his eyes as they set on Y/n. “Would you like to dance?”

“O-oh,” she began to stutter, now in Natasha’s shoes considering she had yet to accept Jake’s offer of a drink. They both were hesitant to agree to the offers. “Uh—shouldn’t we be looking to see when the night guards change shifts?”

“That’ll be towards dawn,” he assured, “plenty of time for you to return to your room before your parents wake.” At her still unsure gaze, Bradley’s voice turned softer, “just one dance. S’all I ask.”

Meeting Natasha’s eyes, who simply nodded in silent exchange, Y/n raised her hand and let it fall into Bradley’s grasp. “One dance, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Did you really only dance with him for one song, Grandma?” The twelve year old girl, Amelia, was flabbergasted when her grandmother ended the story with, “and we lived happily ever after.” She yearned to hear more.

“That was the plan,” Y/n booped her nose, “but your Papa was a charmer back in the day—still is I should say. One dance became two, and then three. Before we knew it the sun was rising, Natasha and I were in a hurry to return to the first-class deck. Thankfully we made it before anyone could spot us,” lips curl up, a fond memory surfacing in her head, “though to this day I believe my brother knew what we did.”

“How?” Rebecca asked, earning a look from her mother.

Y/n chuckled lightly before responding, “He had that look in his eye that he knew something I didn’t. I never got the chance to ask him if he did,” a sad sigh leaves her, but she quickly masks it to not concern the girls, “but my brother and I had an unspoken connection when we were growing up. Able to know what the other was thinking or trying to imply with little to no words at all.”

“What happened after?” Amelia sat up straight, eyes full of hope. A hopeless romantic, even at a young age, she loved hearing the tales of how people found love. Fairytales were her favorite, where the princess meets the handsome prince and they live happily ever after.

The clock was pushing 9:30, well past the time she and her sister were supposed to be asleep. Amelia believed her mother would’ve stepped in earlier to cut the story short.

And it looked like she was about to do it just then. Standing from the armchair, Cynthia stopped her mother before she could answer, knowing the story was about to take a different turn if it went any further. “I think that’s a story for another day,” her tone was apologetic, but Y/n’s gaze assured her she was right to interrupt. The story would end on a happy note for the girls.

“But—,”

“You mother is right, sweetheart,” Y/n lightly pushed against Amelia’s shoulders to get her to lay down, bringing the sheet back up. Disappointment filled her granddaughter’s expressions, Y/n offering a small smile, “One day, I will tell you both more of my time on Titanic—and how your Papa and I fell in love in those short days sailing the Atlantic. But for now,” she goes to press a kiss to their foreheads, “sleep. We will have breakfast in the morning—I’ll even make French toast for you two.”

Though the girls wanted to hear more, the exhaustion soon took over, both releasing a yawn. Amelia drifted off, picturing Titanic and all its beauty from how Y/n described it, making a mental note to ask to see a picture one day.

Cynthia kissed her daughters goodnight as Y/n blew out the candle, the two exiting the room with Cynthia closing it behind her, leaving it slightly ajar. Approaching the kitchen, Cynthia debated on asking the question on her mind, growing bigger with each second. Everett, her husband of 15 years, had already gone to bed in the guest room they’d been staying the past weekend, leaving her father as the only person other than them still awake.

Y/n was handed her nightly cup of tea from Bradley, the man leaning to kiss her cheek. Sipping the hot contents, she released a sound of content, his arm going around her while he sipped his own. Leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, Cynthia admires the scene in front of her. The look of love in her father’s eyes while he gazed down at Y/n, his own wrinkles adorning his face. Both grayed haired with skin beginning to frail as they approached their 70s.

Cynthia pictured them at 21. Young and carefree with dreams and aspirations. Her mother, a timeless beauty and her father, the handsome charmer. Boarding Titanic to return home after being gone so long, unaware they’d meet their soulmate and experience an event regarded as the deadliest peacetime disasters in history.

They were one of the lucky ones. Surviving when so many were lost, yet they had their fair share of perished loved ones. Cynthia saw it anytime Y/n mentioned her father and brother. Saw it when her father discussed the days he spent with his best friends.

“Little ones finally in bed?” Bradley’s voice removed her from her thoughts, Cynthia nodded when she realized he was asking her.

“Yeah,” she rubbed her arms, “they insisted on hearing a story from grandma.”

“Oh really?” he looked intrigued, peering down at his wife, “which one this time?”

Y/n tightened her mouth slightly, “About how we met.” Instantly his expression changed, but it wasn’t like in the early years where Bradley would shut down at the mere mention of Titanic. Instead a hint of a smile found his lips, knowing it was his granddaughter’s wanting to know how they fell in love.

“Oh,” he hums, shuffling his feet a bit and tightening the hold on Y/n. “What all did you tell them?”

“Up to the morning of the eleventh.” A laugh leaves him, making Cynthia mentally sigh in relief.

“What a night that was,” the memory of him and Jake ushering Y/n and Natasha through the secret pathways they’d found that led straight to first-class replayed in his mind. Peering behind the corridor at the night crew relieving themselves from post, giving only three minutes for the women to cross into the deck without notice. Bradley catching Y/n’s hand before she could leave, “May I see you again, Y/n? If not tonight but the next?” The eye contact between them was intense, desire and what could only be described as the beginning stages of love swarming.

Y/n promised to return, noticing Natasha was promising the same to Jake and handed Bradley the handkerchief she had on her. A kiss to her hand and Bradley watched her go, dragging Natasha away until they disappeared out of sight, leaving the men to avoid being seen as they headed back to the third-class compartments.

“One to remember,” Y/n echoes, leaning more into him. The image of her and Natasha giggling when they made it to her suite flashed in her mind. “I cannot believe that just happened! Oh, Natasha, do you feel what I am feeling? It’s like walking on a cloud!”

“Mom, dad?” Cynthia suddenly spoke, nervous she was about to make them upset by asking the jarring question nagging her brain. When their heads turned the words flew before she could stop them, “Could…could you tell me again about that night?”

Sunday April 14, 1912 started out like any other aboard Titanic. Y/n rose early to accompany her family at breakfast before meeting with Natasha for lunch. Throughout the day they’d reside close to the railing of the first-class deck to oversee the third-class one where Bradley and Jake would wait for them. Subtle looks and waves would be exchanged, the men subjected to howls and whistles from their friends.

In the days leading up she felt like she was living in one of her fairytale novels. The night of the 11th she and Natasha were formally introduced to Mickey, Reuben, Javy, and Bob when they snuck back during the shift change between day and night crew. Y/n enjoyed being with the group. They were funny and outgoing, very different from the men she was usually surrounded by.

Together they’d drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes, dance to the music passengers played and tell tales of their upbringing. Y/n learned Bradley and his friends were all aspiring aviators with backgrounds as mechanics and had grown up in the same neighborhood. He was originally from Virginia and lived in New Jersey with his Godfather after losing his parents to illness when he was sixteen and had no siblings.

Y/n told him about her family, explaining how they were once working class citizens until her father had a leading hand in constructing The National Association of Realtors. Bradley appeared impressed when she told him, finding admiration in those who worked hard for their wealth and not had handed to them on a silver platter. She explained her studies at NYU, dreams of being a writer—a novelist to be more specific, and hobbies of hers such as horseback riding, reading, and writing.

“What type of novels do you wish to write?” Bradley popped some chocolate into his mouth, offering a piece to her which she gladly accepted.

“Thrillers would be interesting to do,” she walked with him along the deck, the sound of the water hitting the ship loud against her ears. Jake had dragged Natasha off God knows where. The others were likely enjoying the company of their new Irish friends they made who boarded during the stop in Queenstown. “A good mystery could be fun. Also who does not like a happily ever after when it comes to love stories?”

“Think this journey may inspire one of the sort?” Bradley’s voice took a different turn, Y/n glancing to see he was already staring at her, a look she could only describe as adoration. It made heat rise in her, butterflies pooling that were threatening to burst from her stomach.

‘Is this what they mean when you’ve fallen in love at first sight?’

Feeling confident, returning the same gaze as Bradley, Y/n replies, “It is too early to say, but if what I feel happening is the same for you…. I find it very well could be.”

That night ended with their first kiss. Shared before the sun rose and Y/n made her leave to her room. Though she was scolded by her mother for missing breakfast due to sleeping in longer than she should have, Y/n didn’t care. The tingling sensation from where Bradley’s lips met hers remained all day, making the young woman yearn for more. A light feeling in her chest as though she was walking on a cloud. It grew stronger with each time she was with Bradley.

Hours were spent together once the night sky took over. Y/n departing for bed right after supper to get a few hours of sleep. When she awoke Natasha was knocking at her door and the two would sneak off—careful not to draw attention to themselves. The night of the 12th Bradley and Y/n crept into the area where the motor vehicles were stored. It was like a candy store for the man, who worked on cars for a living.

They’d play pretend with Bradley acting like Y/n’s driver. “My lady,” he’d say while helping her into the unlocked vehicle. “Why thank you,” her giggle made his heart skip, wishing to hear more of it. Y/n would lean over the seat between them while he leaned back, the two sharing kisses between laughs.

Two young adults living in their own little world. Slowly falling in love as the day turned into night. Each time Y/n left there would be a gaping hole in her heart. Drifting off to sleep with Bradley’s face as the last thing she saw. When the cycle continued on the 13th, all Y/n could think about was coming clean to her family. She could no longer deny there was love between her and Bradley. Despite only knowing each other for three days, Y/n saw his love for her each time they locked eyes. Every little touch had her wanting more. The words he spoke to her were like a poem, her hand itching to write them down so they stayed with her forever.

She wasn’t worried about them judging Bradley for his status. They were once in his position not even a decade ago. Discriminating him for being lower-class would make them hypocrites and just like their peers they criticize on the daily.

Y/n knew her parents wanted her to be happy. Regardless of who or where the person came from, as long as they loved and respected her then Y/n’s parents would accept them. Her happiness was their priority. It was why they constantly turned down marriage arrangements from her father’s colleagues. And when looking at all the qualities Y/n desired in a life-long partner, Bradley possessed all of them.

“Are you going to tell them?” Natasha raised her teacup to her lips, eyes unconscious flickering over the railing to find Jake. They were seated at a table, discussing the feelings rising between them and the men who’ve caught their eyes. Raising her own, Y/n followed her movements and saw Bradley kicking what appeared to be a ball with his friends and some children.

“I don’t know honestly,” she sighed, placing the teacup back on its saucer. Tiny sunglasses framed her face, protecting her eyes from the sun directly in front of her. “Do you plan on telling your family about Jake?” Now it was Natasha's turn to sigh.

“I guess I share the same fears as you. While I believe my father would approve of Jake, I’m scared he will worry too much about his public image. Of my parents, he’s the one with the most hopeful I say yes to Alan’s proposal.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to marry Alan?”

“She doesn’t want for me to end up like her. Though she grew to love my father eventually, their marriage stemmed from their parents pressuring them,” Natasha’s gaze wandered back over to Jake. “It wasn’t until they had my siblings and I that she felt the love a wife is supposed to have from her husband—and that was because of us. Truth is, Y/n, I don’t think I see myself falling in love with Alan even if we have children.”

“Then be honest with yourself and your parents, Natasha,” Y/n finally said, declining when a server approached with more tea.

Her friend gives a look of challenge, “only if you do the same.”

“I will,” Y/n spoke confidently, before making a face of unease, adding, “when we arrive in New York.”

“And have you discussed this with him yet?” Natasha didn’t have to say Bradley’s name for her to know he was who she was referring to.

“No, but I will bring it up when I see him tonight. We’ve only a few more days till we’re stateside, that gives me time to prepare.”

Y/n was late to meet Bradley that evening due to Richard visiting her unannounced. “Apologies for the interruption this late, Y/n. But do you have a moment?” It took her by surprise, casting a worried glance to Natasha who mirrored it.

“Um, of course. Nat, I’m going to step out for a minute. I’ll be right by the door,” a nod from her friend and Y/n stepped into the corridor, closing the door so it was slightly ajar. “Yes, Richard?”

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior on Wednesday,” the words shocked her, Y/n visibly reacting to them as though she was in disbelief he was actually saying them. “I mean no offense to you and feel as though I was misunderstood in what I was trying to say.” It took every nerve of her to not roll her eyes. Of course he was trying to pass it off as her not understanding him. He was only a few words shy of calling her over dramatic. “If you allow me, I’d like for you to reconsider my proposal of courtship.”

Y/n stated the obvious, “You never offered a proposal, Richard. I took my departure before any proposal could be made.” Naturally he didn’t expect her to point out his flaw, thinking he could get away with gaslighting her into believing she rejected him when in fact there was no rejection at all.

Quickly Richard attempted to improvise, “Well, then allow me to make one now,” he removed his hat, placing it over his chest in a slight bow, “Would you do me the honor of courting you in hopes a beautiful, highly respected marriage may blossom out of?”

Now she was put on the spot, heart increasing well over the average beats per minute. No doubt Natasha was listening in, equally as anxious to hear what Y/n would say. Mentally cursing, Y/n fumbled over her words, “I-I…I must discuss this with my father in the morning. Surely you understand, Richard,” of course she wanted to say no, but without her father with her Y/n feared the outcome. Even with Natasha behind the door, there was no saying Richard could react negatively to rejection. “I cannot give you an answer just yet. B-but you shall have one by tomorrow evening.”

Though Richard obviously didn’t like her answer, he did a job of concealing it, “Of course. It was foolish of me to come so late in the evening—and to assume you’d agree without consultation. Please, take all the time and I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/n.” Once he was gone, Y/n leaned against her door and released a breath she had been holding, Natasha bolting from her chair with a, “What the hell was that?!”

After explaining in depth the details Natasha couldn’t hear and a much needed vent to cool off, the two finally made their way to the third-class deck just after midnight. They found Jake and Bradley in the meeting spot they’d established, sharing a cigar and asking what took them so long. The nervousness in Y/n’s demeanor worried Bradley, who gently pulled her away to give them privacy, “What’s wrong?” The one question had Y/n spilling everything off her chest. From Richard and his stupid proposal to her wanting Bradley to meet her parents.

“I’m very overwhelmed and don’t know what to do,” she cried, eyes lining with unshed tears threatening to spill. “The man is already acting as though I’ve said yes and there’s no way in hell I am going to end up in a loveless marriage for my entire life—not when you’ve taken claim to my heart, though it seems foolish to think you could fall in love with someone in just three days a-and I worry my family is going to say absurd things about your status when it shouldn’t define you because you, Bradley, are the most perfect man I’ve ever met and I love you—.” Her last words are cut off when Bradley’s lips meet her. Large hands cupping her cheeks, the scuff on his face burning her chin as the kiss turns more passionate. Y/n’s hands fly to his hair, soft curls against her fingertips and the woman letting out a light moan when Bradley slips his tongue into her mouth in what people would call French kissing.

Pressing her chest further into his, Y/n feels his arms fall to her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground all while continuing to keep his lips on hers. The wind brushes through her hair, cool air sending chills along her otherwise flaring skin.

“I love you,” he finally whispers against her lips, saying it once more before retraining them to hers. Nothing is said for the remainder of the night, the two finding claim to a storage room where they make love until dawn. The only sound exchanged are hot pants of breath and sighs, Y/n’s nails digging into Bradley’s back while his arms cradle her like she was made of glass. He brings her to a climax so many times she loses count. Moans grew louder to the point she feared someone would walk by and hear them. Bradley swallowed each with a kiss, holding her hand and becoming lost within her. If cloud nine was what she felt when with Bradley, then at that moment she was experiencing euphoria. Feeling the reminisce of him lingering inside her well after they were done.

Basking in the afterglow, Y/n laid her head on Bradley’s chest and felt his fingers trail along her back, making her release a sound of bliss, “Where are you going when we dock?”

It takes a second for him to answer, sleep threatening to consume the man, “Back to New Jersey with the guys—see my Godfather and probably go back to working in his shop. What about you?”

“My studies end in late May so I will return to school for the time being,” she replied, lifting her head slightly to see into his eyes. They were the same as hers. Content, blissed, overwhelmed with happiness. “After that….I do not know. My father I think wishes for me to assist him and my brother with the business. But I’d like to travel—see different places on my own.”

“You know,” Bradley hums, a smirk forming on his mouth, “New Jersey is only a short drive from New York—actually it’s across the harbor, the ferry will get you there quicker.” Y/n’s own lips curled up.

“Are you implying I come visit you in New Jersey, Mr. Bradshaw?”

“Only a mere suggestion Miss. L/n,” he defended, cheekiness in his tone. He then becomes serious, hand cupping the side of her face, “I don’t plan on letting you go after this. My heart won’t allow it. It won’t go on without you.”

It was probably the most romantic thing Y/n had ever heard. Better than any writing on paper and forever engraved into her mind. “I don’t think mine will either.”

All throughout the 14th, Y/n was in a constant inner battle with herself. Wondering how to approach the topic of Bradley to her parents and declining Richard’s proposal. Once they learn she’s no longer a maiden Y/n worried about what their reaction would be. If her father would make Bradley marry her right then and there—not that she would mind honestly but she didn’t know if Bradley wanted the same.

“What is wrong today, my dear,” Y/n flinched from the sudden intrusion. Coming up beside her was her father, placing a hand on the railing in her typical spot on the deck. Natasha had stepped away to find a powder room, leaving Y/n to herself until her father appeared. “You appear to be in distress. I find it difficult you can be in such a state when you’ve got a view like this,” he gestures with his hand to the scene in front of them. Nothing but the beautiful ocean and clear skies, the scene straight from a painting.

“I am only deep in my thoughts, father,” Y/n fidgeted with the material on her dress sleeves, looking away when she saw Bradley as the memory of that morning flashed in her mind. “Thinking about my studies and what to do after.” She heard her father make a ‘humph’ sound.

“Nothing to do with your little admirer then?”

Instantly her stomach fell, heat flaring within her, eyes wide like saucer. Snapping her head to her father, she found his gaze forward and when she followed it, Bradley stood in her vision. Dread consumed her, quickly trying to play it off, “I-I…I don’t know what you mean.” A chuckle fills her ears.

“Darling, I may be getting old but I still have eyes and ears,” a hand rests on her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Do you not think I’ve noticed a shift in you these last few days? Ever since Wednesday’s luncheon you’ve spent every moment of your time on the deck. The knowing glances between you and Natasha—how you two come to this spot every day and spend hours watching those fellas over there,” he lifts his finger to point in their general direction. Crinkles appear beside his eyes when his lips curl, “Not to mention I checked your room the other night to find it vacant. Then when I went to have my late night cigar, I saw you in the distance creeping out of the stairwell with Natasha—but you weren’t alone. Those fellas were with you..” his voice becomes softer while Y/n’s heart picks up pace. “And I know the face of someone smitten. And that one over there—,” he points directly at Bradley, who stood frozen when he looked up to find them staring at them. “He’s smitten with you, my dear girl. Trust me, I know, it’s how I look at your mother.”

While she felt a sudden rush of calmness from her father’s implied approval, the linger of worry still remained. “Are you upset with me, dad?”

“What for, Y/n?”

“Because…” She struggles to find the words and lets out a sound of frustration. “Ugh—I know you are not one to invest your time in gossip but I still cannot help but worry. About how people will view you and all the work you did to give us this life—with these high expectations of who I’ll marry and for me to—.”

He stops her before she could finish, “do you love him?” She’s taken aback by the question, stuttering at his bluntness.

“It—it’s only been four days—.”

“I knew I loved your mother within two,” he tells her, still smiling to help put her at ease. “But let’s not make it a competition. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you love him, Y/n.”

“I do,” she falls to a whisper, finally answering when she locks eyes with Bradley. She could tell he was worried for her, slight strain in his face as though he was trying to decipher what the two were discussing. Offering a small smile in hopes to show it was all okay, Y/n says, “I think I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him he’d be someone important to me. But then talking to him every night since we departed England has only confirmed what I already know. My heart belongs to him.”

With the seal of approval from her father, Y/n spent the rest of the day avoiding Richard—even hiding when she caught him and his father walking the deck in a hurry, as though they were searching for something. More like someone.

She and Natasha had supper in Natasha’s suite, gushing over their newfound happiness with their lovers. Y/n wrote in her diary every single detail so as to not forget it when she got older, capturing the memories in writing. While braiding Natasha’s hair the two discussed the brunette's plans for when they docked. “I’m going to come clean to my parents,” Natasha declared, trying not to move while Y/n finished with the first of two braids. “Tell Alan I cannot marry him and let him know I’m spoken for. He’ll understand…I hope. And for my father he will learn to accept it if he has any objections.”

“I’m happy for you, Nat,” Y/n smiled at her through the mirror. “Truly I am. You deserve to be happy—and Jake is smitten with you.”

“As is Bradley with you,” Natasha smirked, causing her friend to look away shyly. “Oh don’t be shy about it now! I know what took place this morning.” At Y/n’s horrified expression, Natasha laughed, “You were way more tired than usual when we returned to our room. And I couldn’t help but notice a slight struggle when you walked.”

“Good heavens, Natasha!” Y/n let go of the hair to cover her face with her hands, cheeks hot from embarrassment.

“Was it nice?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” eyebrows wiggled at her, Natasha giggling as Y/n playfully tagged at the braid before moving to the next one. Moving on from the subject the two finished getting ready until it was the typical time for them to leave, silently thanking whoever above that Richard did not find her. She’d have to confront him eventually. It was that or pray she could avoid him the remainder of the journey—which was only a couple more days.

Bradley lifted her in the arm when she met him, capturing her lips in a kiss before placing tiny ones over her face. It made her giggle, his scruff tickling with each kiss. “Everything okay today?” was the first thing he asked, “I saw you and who I assume to be your father this afternoon. Looked to be a serious conversation.”

“He’s aware of our endeavors,” she spoke truthfully, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat the inevitable. At his anxious eyes she was quick to explain, “He knows I’ve been sneaking at night to see you—he caught me returning to my room. He doesn’t know about this morning….” She watched him bite back a smile, her own forming as the memory resurfaced. “But from our conversation, my father has no objections about us. He wishes to meet you once we dock.”

“He does?” His tone was surprised, Y/n nodding to show she was serious.

“Yes. I told him about your work and he was impressed. Is….is that okay with you?” Her voice goes low, fearful of his answer. A hand cupped her face, holding her gaze to his and Y/n felt her heart nearly stop at the love in his eyes.

“I would be honored to meet your father, Y/n. It disappoints me we have to wait, but I would wait longer if it means I get to receive his blessing.” Before she could say anything else he kissed her, thumb brushing over her cheek making Y/n sigh with bliss. There was no way she could let go of Bradley after they arrived in America. Even if her father had disapproved of them she’d find a way to see him.

Chills run along her body causing Y/n to shudder, the air suddenly dropping in temperature. The reaction has Bradley pull away, “Are you getting cold?”

“A little,” she mentally cursed herself for deciding on a dress instead of trousers and a coat. It was one of her old ones from when she was fifteen. It was ivory colored and a little worn out from wearing it so often as it had been Y/n’s favorite until she got the privilege of purchasing high quality clothing. Though a little tight on her figure it still fit rather good on her.

Removing his jacket, Bradley pulled it around her shoulders before fixing her hair and ignored her protests. It was freezing outside, their breath visible. Surely Bradley would freeze to death as his long shirt would do nothing to combat the cold.

“There you go, doll.” Her reaction to the nickname had him grin, “That should warm you up. Though I could think of another—.”

“Shall I remind you, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re in the presence of a lady and you should refrain from insinuating such scandalous remarks.” Biting his lip, Bradley leans down to hoarsely whisper, grinning at the gasp she releases when she feels his breath hit her ear.

“I don’t recall you reminding me this morning…”

The heat Y/n felt rivaled a fire in a chimney. Consuming her with every inch of her being, she could do nothing but grin while Bradley hid his face in her neck, peppering kisses throughout.

For the next hour they laid on one of the benches, talking of what their lives would be together as the stars danced above them. Y/n pointing out constellations from time to time, making a point to identify Sirius, the brightest star of all. They laughed. They kissed. They dreamed of the future. What their house would look like, “At least two stories. With a big backyard and a dining table to fit ten people.” How many kids they’d have, “Two would be nice, but I wouldn’t mind three. A little mini you and me running around.” If they’ll have animals, “a dog of course. Ooh—a chicken to have fresh eggs for breakfast and possibly a couple of goats.”

It was perfect. Complete and utter bliss.

But that disappeared in the blink of an eye. Right as the clock struck 11:40 pm.

“What’s happening?” Y/n lifted off of Bradley’s chest, sitting up straight by the sound of people shouting on the decks above. Following her suit, Bradley made a motion to stand when he caught sight of Jake and Natasha running toward them.

“What is it?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Jake was out of breath, face red with worry. “But I think I heard someone yell about an iceberg—.” An ugly sound rocketed before Jake could finish his sentence. Jolting movement on the ship deck had them all stumble, Y/n clutching onto Bradley’s side as his arm met her waist. Moments later an intimidatingly large iceberg appeared in their view. Slowly moving as the ship literally whined with effort to avoid collision. But it was to no avail as more striking sounds of ice hitting metal echoed in the night. Pieces fell onto the deck, the four moving slightly aback.

Moments later the ship's engines stopped. Dazed and confused by what they witnessed. Titanic had hit an iceberg. A large one at that. The sound alone was an indicator of how bad the collision was. Stressed shouts of crew members only further confirmed it.

They were left to wonder what would happen next. Were they waiting for the crew to assess the damage before restarting the engines? Would they even be able to? Were they already sending signals to other ships about their collision?

Leaning over the railing, Y/n found the reflection of Titanic’s lights staring back at her. The water was eerily calm, no doubt below freezing. Several other icebergs could be made out in the distance surrounding the ship if she squinted her eyes. With no moon in the sky it made it difficult to see.

Y/n anxiety increased when the thought crossed her mind, ‘Are we going to sink?’ She removed the thought as it appeared. No. There’s no way the Titanic would sink. She was deemed unsinkable by everyone involved in the making of her. She was designed to remain afloat even if four water compartments were flooded.

‘It’ll be alright,’ Y/n thought silently, trying to convince herself more than anything.

But that didn’t last long when Bradley and Jake’s friends rushed over not even twenty minutes later, their nightwear drenched in water and fear coating their eyes. “It’s flooding down there,” Mickey huffed, “all over the floors.” Passengers filled the deck, families huddled together as they awaited information. Mickey’s news sent dread to the young women. Flooding was never a good sign.

Something in Y/n’s gut was telling her to find her family. “I-I need to go,” she glanced at Natasha first and then Bradley, “I should find my father. T-they may know more on the upper deck a-and are not telling us how serious it is down here.” Bradley looked hesitant to let her go, Y/n’s voice turning softer, “I’ll come back. I promise I will—a-and I’ll find out what’s happening.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nat removed herself from Jake, the man wearing the same face as Bradley. “We should go now while the crew are distracted.” Without consulting further, Y/n picked up the skirt of her dress and hurried away with Natasha trailing behind. They made it past each deck, racing up the grand staircase to the level Y/n’s parents were to find them in evident distress. Several other members of their circle were also there.

One look at her father and Y/n’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Dad…” it took everything to remain calm, realizing her hands started to shake when he took them in hers. “What’s happening?” He didn’t want to admit the truth she already knew, but as she squeezed his hands the words left him, confirming the worst.

“Titanic’s taking on water,” the choked gasp was audible no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Her father squeezed her hand, “They’re preparing the lifeboats—you two should go gather some belongings to take with you.” At the mention of lifeboats Y/n mentally thought back to the ones she’d seen lining the ship deck. Counting, her heart further shrieked at the number she summed.

“There's only twenty,” she whispered, horror on her face. “T-there’s got to be three thousand people on this ship. Wha-what—how are they going to save everyone?!” Her voice grew louder with each word. Suddenly she went quiet, the realization hitting her. Behind her Natasha gasped, also realizing the obvious.

All the lifeboats were on the boat deck. Right above the first-class one.

“O-oh my God. They’re not going to be able to save everyone.”

“Y/n—,” her hands slipped from his grasp, “Y/n!!” She was running, skirts dragging along her ankles as she hurried down the path she’d just come from. Urgent footsteps behind her signaled Natasha following, the two women bumping into people without apologizing. Tears lined her eyes the entire way, wishing it was all a horrible nightmare she was going to awake from at any moment.

When she finally found Bradley she collided with him, oblivious to the fact his trousers were soaked in water. Too frantic she made no mind to ask where it came from. “We’re sinking,” she cried against his chest. Even in his arms it did nothing to ease her fear. “The ship’s sinking.”

“Wh-at? No, that’s not possible.”

“She’s unsinkable!”

“It must be a mistake—I’m sure they are working it out as we speak.”

It was utter chaos from then on out. Minutes passed where slowly the passengers would realize the extent of the situation. Cries of children and babies were heard, their parents attempting to calm them despite their own emotions surfacing. Y/n rushed to her suite with Bradley, the man unable to contain his awe at how luxurious the first-class compartments were. He stood like a fish out of water as she flung open her small makeup bag to place her diary, ticket, the few photos she had, and whatever small compatible items Y/n thought were valuable. Clothing and anything else could be replaced.

The door flying open caused her to shriek, Bradley stepping back when Y/n’s father appeared in the doorway. He let out an audible sigh of relief when his eyes landed on her, “Where have you been?” He stepped further into the room, Y/n’s mother and brother trailing behind. All froze at the sight of Bradley standing with her, her father being the only one to recognize him.

“Who’s this?” Said her mother, not shying from looking Bradley up and down. It made him blush, glancing at Y/n for help. But she was also at a loss for words.

“This is the boy I was telling you about. Now as much as I wish we were meeting in any other circumstance,” her father strolled up, closing the bag for Y/n and pulling into his hands while using his free hand to gently push her toward the door, “We need to get to the boat deck this instant.” As they were coming out they met Natasha and Jake, Bradley asking his friend where the others were.

“I don’t know,” Jake stressfully removed his messenger boy hat to run a hand through his hair, “Mickey went to find that girl he’d been shacking up with and Javy I-I thought was behind me.” Bradley gulps, sweat pooling at his hairline.

“We’ll find them,” he firmly states. “We’ll find them all.”

When they reached the boat deck they were faced with the grim reality. Less than two dozen lifeboats would not be enough to get Titanic’s 2,500 passengers to safety. She was going to take many down with her. Time was their emissary. Slowly ticking away by the second.

Coming to the end of the first hour since impact, Bradley brings Y/n’s attention to him when he sees they were only allowing women and children into the boats. Crew members were telling passengers it was only minor damage and they were only putting them in the boats for precaution. Sparks from flares shot into the sky, with hope neighboring ships would notice.

Bradley stared deeply into the eyes he loved, “Marry me.” The question stops the world around them, Y/n’s eyes becoming wide as saucers.

“W-what?”

“Marry me, Y/n,” his tone is serious. “Right now on this ship. Under the stars you love while in front of your family and our friends—i-if tonight…” he trails off, voice becoming shaky. It brings tears to Y/n’s eyes at what he was trying to say. “If tonight is my last night I don’t want to waste another second.” The reason he said ‘my’ instead of ‘our’ last night was knowing deep in his heart Y/n would likely survive instead of him. She would get on a boat and hopefully be rescued.

“Yes,” she whispered, no sign of hesitation in the answer. All the love she felt emitting with one word.

And so the unthinkable happened not a mere ten minutes later. Y/n standing in front of Bradley, hands entwined as the ship’s Chaplin read off vows they repeated. Y/n’s family had tears in their eyes, as did Natasha, Jake, and their friends—who managed to find them at the right moment. Other passengers stopped and stared, some looking on with unreadable expressions, mostly women who found the sight bittersweet. It was almost fitting considering Y/n was wearing a near-white dress.

When asked about exchanging rings Y/n went to say, “no rings,” but Bradley stopped her.

“I have this actually,” his hand goes to his trouser pocket, “It’s not a ring but I think it’ll do.” Removing what could only be described as the most beautiful necklace Y/n had laid eyes on, her mouth parted in disbelief. Diamonds lined the chain, coming down to surround a large blue heart-shaped gem. “It’s a diamond,” Bradley said softly, making Y/n’s eyes widen even more. Wondering how he acquired such a magnificent piece of jewelry that looked like it was worth more than anything she owned.

He must’ve read her mind because Bradley was quick to explain, “My father gave this to my mother when he proposed to her. He got it from his mother, who received it from his father on their wedding day. He never told me how our family came into possession of it, but I once heard him refer to it as the ‘Heart of the Ocean’.” How fitting when they were in the middle of the ocean, and Y/n had become the owner of his heart. “It’s been passed down from Bradshaw to Bradshaw as a gift from a husband to wife. My mother made sure to give it to me before she died,” bringing the necklace around her neck while still facing her, Bradley secured it into place, adjusting it so the heart laid on her chest. Above her own beating heart. “And now it’s yours.”

Hand coming up to her chest, Y/n felt the smooth cut edges of the diamond, tears falling from her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she croaked, sniffing from the overwhelming emotion. “Thank you. I’ll protect it with my life. H-how did you—.”

“Before you came back to find me I made sure to grab it from my room.” So that’s why his pants were soaked. He went to get the necklace before the compartment flooded.

“I-I,” she stuttered, glancing behind to peer at her father. “I don’t have anything—.”

“Worry not, my dear girl,” the watch he always wore unclipped from his wrist. It was his favorite one, the only item he splurged on before they became wealthy. And now he was given it to Y/n’s husband.

“I can’t take this,” Bradley goes to object, but her father silences him. Y/n kisses the older man’s cheek, whispering “thank you,” as she takes the watch before placing it onto Bradley’s wrist.

“By the power invested in me,” the two hold hands once more, letting the tears fall freely. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Chaplin turns to Bradley, “You may kiss your bride.”

Warm hands cup Y/n’s cheek, lips meeting in the middle to seal the act. No longer was she kissing the handsome stranger who caught her eye aboard the ship of dreams. She was kissing her husband. The man she was to grow old with. To explore the world. Raise children together.

Their fairytale was only beginning. But tragedy was on the horizon. Ending the journey before it could start.

Their friends clapped and cheered, her mother cried. Passengers and crew members witnessing offered nods of congratulations. Before long the happy moment was gone and replaced with the dread once more at the reality facing them. At first Y/n thought Jake and Natasha would marry next, spotting a ring on her friend’s left hand.

“It’s his class ring,” Natasha softly said, admiring the jewelry with glistening eyes. “I told him I’ll marry him once we reach land.” Taking her hand, Y/n squeezes and offers a small, encouraging smile, “We’ll make it the wedding of your dreams.”

The hour reached a half after one, almost two whole since the iceberg struck Titanic. They all gathered to the edge of the boat deck, Y/n’s father ordering her, her mother, and Natasha to put one on. As they did they could hear the crew member shout the same thing he’d been shouting the last hour and half. “Women and children! I need women and children!”

It was then Y/n realized why her father and Bradley were slowly moving them closer. “No,” she whispered, turning fully around. Over Bradleys shoulder she spotted her father speaking to her mother. Behind her children were crying out for their daddies. “I’m not going without you.” His hands met her shoulders. “Don’t ask me to get in that boat, Bradley.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

He squeezed her jacket clad shoulders, “Y/n, please do this for me. Get in the boat with your mother and Natasha. You guys will be safer there.”

“And leave you here!” She shouted, not caring who heard. Here was her newly wedded husband saying goodbye. “You married me not even ten minutes ago—a-and you’re already telling me to leave!?”

“As your husband I’m ensuring you make it off this ship safely! That is my priority—that you’re safe!” His own voice raises, hand going to Y/n’s jaw to force her to look at him when she fights his hold. Bradley was doing his best to keep calm for her sake, not wanting her last image of him to be where he’s scared out of his mind. Though the crew made efforts to conceal the truth, Bradley wasn’t blind. The water was rising closer to the deck, submerging the lower floors past the point of fixing.

Titanic was sinking.

“Don’t ask me to leave you,” Y/n closed her eyes, lip trembling to hold back the sob threatening to escape. “My heart won’t go on without you, Bradley.” It wouldn’t allow her to. Bradley was the keeper of her entire soul. Losing him would destroy her.

“Look at me,” his thumb caressed her cheek, running over her bottom lip to wipe the stray tear. When her eyes opened, Bradley brought her into a kiss. “I’ll find you,” he said pulling away, “Get it in that boat and I promise I will find you when this is all over. I won’t stop till I do.”

“N-no—.”

“I promise you, baby,” he says again, tightening the hold on her. “I will see you again.”

A choked sob left Y/n, pressing her lips to his desperately, the taste of salt hitting her tongue from the tears mixing in. “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, offering a watery smile. “Hey, I’m the luckiest bastard in the world. You’ve made me so.” They kiss once more, Y/n being passed to her father. She leaps into his arms, shaking against him when he tells her he’ll always love her and to take care of her mother.

“Thank you, daddy,” she cries, nuzzling her face into his chest and not wanting to let go. She didn’t have to explain because he already knew the meaning behind her words. ‘Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for always believing in me. Thank you for letting me open my heart to him and giving your blessing. Thank you for loving me.’

“I love you, my dear girl,” his lips meet the crown of her head. “I’ll see you soon.”

After hugging goodbye to her brother, who was refused by crew to board with them since he was seventeen and viewed as a young man rather than a child, Y/n followed behind Natasha and her mother onto the lifeboat. A crew member assisted, taking her hand, “watch your step, madam,” Y/n’s heart raced with each step, falling to the seat on the edge of the aisle, closest to where Bradley stood.

“I love you!” He shouted to her, going as far to lean over the railing of the ship, Y/n rising enough from her seat to offer one last kiss. It was brief, but she poured all her emotion behind it. A shout from the man in charge of the lifeboat yelled for her to sit and Y/n unwillingly listened. All the way down Y/n kept her eyes on Bradley, briefly meeting those of her father and brother. Jake was next to her husband, no doubt watching Natasha seated next to her.

Even when they landed on the water Y/n could not relax. As the crewmen paddled them away, the sight of Titanic was more frightening than she imagined. Growing worse by the minute. The dark blue section of Titanic lower levels were nearly submerged leaving only the decks above the surface.

“I thought it was unsinkable,” a lady gasped, making murmurs of worry echo among the passengers. Y/n shared a look with Natasha, finding the same emotion etched in the other's eyes. It increased when an unpleasant noise filled their ears, snapping their heads to see the rear of Titanic rising in the air, the front completely foregone in the sea. Without realizing it Y/n had stood from her seat, face wretched with horror.

“Oh my God.”

Hands flew to her mouth, gasps radiating behind at the sight of Titanic going dark. Barely could Y/n make out the vessel due to little light without the moon. It made Y/n strain her eyes, desperate to see what was happening. Praying to whoever above Bradley and her family aboard was on the side of the ship still afloat. Y/n’s breathing increased, feeling Natasha stand beside her.

Everything happened so fast after that. What sounded like gunshots rang out mixed with the screams of those still aboard fighting to make it in time to the rear of the ship. Metal and wood crunching caused bile to fill in her mouth, feeling nauseated by the overwhelming panic.

Whimpers escaped Y/n, becoming full force sobs when a horrible *crack* echoed in the night. Titanic had been split in half. And though hard to see in the dark, the sound alone of the moaning ship sent her into despair. Within minutes the rear half of Titanic lifted once more, fully disappearing out of view forever, leaving the cries of her passengers stranded in the 26 degree water desperately fighting to stay alive.

Y/n dropped to her knees, cries mixing with everyone else. The scene was too much to handle. Screams echoing in the darkness, utter misery to show the terror. She didn’t want to imagine how many people were trapped when the ship sank. All she pictured was Bradley’s face. His smile when the lifeboat descended. That one last look of love.

Then Y/n thought of her father and brother. Were they already at the bottom of the ocean? Or were they part of the hundreds screaming in the distance? The sound that was slowly becoming lower signaling their battle was with cold water was ending. Whatever the case Y/n didn’t want to picture their dead bodies—the thought only made her more devastated.

She cried for her mother. She cried for Natasha—who was in the same state as her. She cried for those on the lifeboat. But mostly Y/n cried for herself. For what could have been

For what should have been.

The screams soon drowned out. Leaving a ghostly silence as Y/n’s sobs returned to whimpers. Soon the exhaustion took over and she fell asleep against her mother’s chest. The cold air was a painful reminder of what had taken place. When Y/n awoke it was to the sounds of engines and for a moment she thought it had all been a nightmare. She’d find herself in bed with the sun peering in from the window. Hearing the footsteps of passengers leaving their suits to attend breakfast. And she’d go about her day the same way until it came time to see Bradley.

But it wasn’t a dream. Confirmed when her eyes opened to the dark skies turning an array of colors from the sun rising in the east. First she felt panic, then came the anguish and soon she was silently crying as her heart broke in two, hand coming to hold the diamond on her chest.

RMS Carpathia was their saving Grace. Y/n was pretty much a walking shell of a woman, reluctantly allowing the crew to help her onto the ship. A blanket was placed around her shoulders, a hot tea in her hand, the saucer shaking from her slight tremor. Guiding her mother and Natasha to a spot away from others, Y/n made no effort to drink the tea. She had no energy even though it would warm her up.

A piece of her was missing—forever lost in the ocean.

People stood at the entryway of where passengers were coming in. Hoping to find their loved ones among the survivors. Seeing Natasha peek around to get a better look, Y/n plainly said, “What are you doing?” Her tone was void of emotion, depicting her mental state.

“I heard someone say one of the lifeboats went back—they were searching for survivors in the water.” Instantly a wave of hope rose within her though Y/n was careful to not let it grow. Scared it’d only be met with heartbreak.

But then sandy hair caught her vision causing the teacup to fall from her hand, contents splashing onto the deck. “Y/n?” She ignored her mother, moving to stand on top of the bench a few feet away to overlook the crowd. Heart racing, she desperately searched for the owner of the sandy hair. She didn’t have to search too long.

“BRADLEY!!” The strangled cry escaped her, the man that stood roughly thirty feet away spinning around in a flash he nearly broke his neck. Y/n could see a girl resembling her beside him, Bradley possibly thinking it’d been her and was disappointed to find it wasn’t. Their eyes met, a mix of astonishment and relief, but most of all pure love pouring into their expression.

“Bradley!” Y/n yelled again, dropping from the bench just as he started to run in her direction. It was like slow motion. Y/n pushing through the crowd, frantically keeping her eyes on him to not lose sight.

“Y/n!” She heard him yell. The crowd between them separated and not a moment later Y/n was leaping into his arms, a sound mixed between a cry and laugh falling from her mouth.

“Oh God,” it was really him. He smelled of sea salt and shook like a leaf, but it was him, Y/n pulling away from the embrace just to make sure. “It’s really you.” His hands cupped her cheek, the feeling all too familiar.

“It’s me.”

“Y-you….I thought you were dead!” A tear trailed her cheek, his thumb moving to wipe it. “I saw the ship sink—and I could not see where you’d gone. How—?”

“The boat that came back,” he started to explain, voice shaking from the cold making Y/n stop a man with teacups, handing one to her husband. “I-I was on a piece of driftwood. It kept me from being…being in the water—.” He gulped, flinching as his eyes watered before closing them. Like he was trying to avoid the painful memory.

Now it was Y/n’s turn to hold his face, offering comfort in the best way she could.

“I-I tried get-getting them on but it was too small for a-all of us. Y-your….” He didn’t want to meet her eyes, shame and guilt visible in his face. “Your father wouldn’t get on—no matter h-how much I told him to. Your brother…” he trailed off, tears spilling from his eyes and Y/n brushed them away while fighting her own. Understanding what Bradley was trying to tell her. “And the others…..wh-what they held onto wasn’t enough to keep them out. I-I thought they’d be okay—I kept calling to them when I saw the boat—b-but they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t answer.” The last word ended with a sob, Bradley’s head dropping down onto Y/n’s shoulders as she held him.

They cried together, Y/n cradling the back of his neck with a hand and feeling the rock of his shoulders against her. Mourning the loss of their friends and family. Y/n grieving the death of her father and brother. When her mother and Natasha arrived, both with hopeful eyes turning into despair in seconds. Seeing Bradley in her arms knowing he was on the boat with the other survivors pulled from the water. Neither Jake nor Y/n’s father and brother with him.

Y/n felt Bradley remove himself from her hold. He looked broken, a shell of a man. Placing a hand in his pocket, they watched him take out an item they couldn’t make out. Only when he unfolded it did they realize what it was.

Jake’s hat.

Natasha let out a gut wrenching weep, covering her face with the hat when Bradley handed it to her before falling to her knees. “I’m so sorry,” a fresh wave of tears threatened to escape, Bradley unable to look at her without feeling the guilt for not saving the man she loved. Y/n moved to hold her friend, Natasha clutching onto her forearm while her mother silently grieved beside them.

All around them was a similar scene. Haunting and dreary. Completely different from the joyous celebration not even a week prior when Titanic sailed off on her maiden voyage. Carrying close to 2,300 people across the Atlantic. Some traveling to America for the first time or were on their way home. Now at least 700 of those passengers were on the Carpathia while the other 1,400 belonged to the sea.

The ship’s crew went around to collect names. Recording them to make it easier when going through the logs when they docked to account for all who survived and persisted. Y/n nearly forgot what name she was supposed to give. Boarding Titanic as a L/n but leaving as a Bradshaw. At the crew man’s confused eyes by the hyphenated name she gave Y/n simply stated, “We married as she sank, but the records will show Y/n L/n.”

Three days. It took three days for Carpathia to arrive in New York. The Statue of Liberty greeted her like an old friend, the people she carried unable to enjoy the scenery they’d been anticipating for so long. The sky rained as though it were crying in mourning. Grieving the lost souls instead of welcoming them.

When the ship docked, Y/n held onto her bag in one hand and Bradley’s arm on the other. Her mother and Natasha followed behind, displaying their grief in every movement. Stepping foot onto the pavement, Y/n let out a breath she’d been holding, feeling only a glimmer of relief at the fact they were home. “What now?” Bradley squeezed her hand, conveying everything in the simple gesture.

“We go on,” he admires the skyline briefly, settling his eyes on hers. “As best as we can we go on. We go on for them.”

“My mother was never the same after that night,” the cracking of wood in the fireplace echoed behind Y/n’s words while she sat on the couch beside Bradley in their sunken living room. Cynthia was across from them, wiping at her puffy face from time to time. Unable to control her emotions.

Y/n’s left middle finger unconsciously traced over the jewelry on her right hand. Her mother’s wedding rings. And nestled beneath her blouse was the necklace worth more than what remained of her family’s fortune.

“She nearly sent herself into an early grave trying to stabilize the business my father built from the ground up. Difficult to do back then when men wouldn’t respect a woman's authority,” Y/n smiles fondly at the memory of her mothers strong willed temperament. “My mother was an intelligent woman. She always prepared for the worst at times. And when deciding what to do about the company, she wanted to make sure our family would be okay if disaster were to strike again. It was like she predicted the fall of the stock market—-preventing us from being affected by selling our shares and interests years before the crash even happened.”

Cynthia thought of her grandmother. How hard it must’ve been to lose her husband and son so suddenly then having to become the face of the family. Her daughter discovering she hadn’t bleed since the week prior to boarding Titanic, the family doctor confirming the pregnancy not a day later. Never remarrying despite the many suitors itching to get a hand on the L/n fortune. Cynthia thought of how her grandmother would wake up bright and early every morning to watch the sunrise. Remembering the smell of her perfume and taking Cynthia and her sister to her favorite bistro for afternoon tea. Teaching them how to be independent women. Even on her deathbed as the illness consumed her right as America joined the Second World War, Y/n’s mother never lost her strength. Thinking of the memories had Cynthia missing her.

“And what about Natasha?” In all the years she’d been alive, Cynthia only heard her parents mention Natasha a handful of times. Each one was met with a distant look in her mother’s eyes, followed by grief until she thought of a happy memory associated with her, causing a small smile to form on her Y/n’s lips.

“She was never the same either,” the answer came with a sad exhale. “After reuniting with her family, Natasha spent several weeks at their family home. I visited her often while I finished my studies and did my best to comfort her in any way she needed. She ended up accepting Alan’s marriage proposal, but on the condition that they travel across America first before being wed. The journey would last several months, but in the end they wedded in Manhattan in the winter of 1913 and welcomed a son and daughter soon after,” the memory of Y/n holding Natasha’s son in the hospital flashed in her mind. “They were happy. As happy as they could be. But Alan, the amazing man he was, knew he couldn’t live up to what Jake was to her. The impact he made on Natasha’s heart. Yes, she grew to love Alan eventually—the birth of their children being the main reason she did—but he was not her true love. And he accepted that,” Y/n felt the lump form in her throat. As it always did when she thought about what came next for her friend.

Bradley’s hand rested on her knee, offering consultation knowing it was hard for her to think about Natasha. Her fingers interlaced with his, swallowing back the lump.

“After the end of the War—the first one—Natasha was traveling with her children home from a weekend visiting her parents. It was late and raining, difficult to see….a vehicle ran the sign and plowed straight into them.” Cynthia didn’t hear the soft gasp leave her mouth, her mother’s own tightening to prevent her lip from quivering. “She was gone instantly. Her children too. Alan was a mess as you can imagine—drowning himself in alcohol daily until I stepped in….”

“Wake up, Alan!” Y/n’s palm met his cheek after knocking the bottle from his hand. “What is the matter with you? Is this how you want to die?” She gripped the labels of his stained dress shirt to make him look at her, voice rising with each word. “By wasting away like some goddamn bum when you could be living for them. By continuing on instead of disgracing yourself or their memory. Natasha could have done what you’re doing when Jake died. And she watched him go down, unable to do anything and hear his screams go quiet as he lost his battle with survival. How do you think she dealt with that? She had every reason to not go on. Let the grief consume her and become the shallow of the person you’re on your way toward. But she didn’t!” Y/n let her emotion release. “She went on—she lived for him! And built a life with you—and you may not believe it but Natasha did love you, Alan. Maybe not the way you wished, but she loved you and you are disgracing it by doing this to yourself! Honor her and your children by finding the strength to live for them. Because so help me God, Alan, I will not watch you waste whatever is left of your life like this. You will die alone with no one to show up when it comes time to be there. The choice is yours.”

“Did he?” Cynthia couldn’t help but ask, “Did he eventually learn to cope?”

“He did,” Y/n smiled. It was a genuine one to show she was happy her friend made it through his hard times. “Alan moved to London about a month after that visit. He wrote to us often, telling about his adventures in England and even traveling across the channel to France where he continued exploring Europe. In 1921 he met a nice woman and married. They had a son and permanently resided in London,” Y/n’s tone went lower, the smile slightly falling. “The letters stopped coming in 1943–during the Second War. I do not know to this day what happened to him. If the bombings claimed them or if he died of disease,” she sadly shrugs, “I only hope he was happy with his life. That despite losing Natasha and their kids he was able to find peace.”

“I’m sure he did,” Bradley finally enters the conversation, having been quiet for most of the time and only adding input during the moments Y/n wasn’t there for. Keeping his experience in the water after Titanic sunk short and limited. While he learned to accept what happened and cope with the grief of watching his friends die in front of him, Bradley still felt the open wound in his heart. “You stepping in is what saved him. Had you not said what you did that day, I confidently believe Alan wouldn’t have made it to the next year. Going to London saved him. All he needed was a strong push.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Cynthia broke it. “Do you think they’ll one day find her?” At the confused looks she received her voice went softer, “Titanic. Do you think she’ll ever be located?” She watched her parents take a sharp breath, like they had never thought of the idea.

“Well…” Y/n brought a hand to rub her shoulder, unconsciously moving it to touch her necklace. “I predict she’d be in the place where she sank, at the bottom of the Atlantic. Either in two pieces,” she winced, “or held together by whatever was able to withstand the pressure.”

“I’m sure if the government or whoever is that interested would be able to locate her,” Bradley comments, rubbing Y/n’s knuckles with his thumb. “But I don’t know if we’ll ever see it happen.”

The rest of the evening was filled with Cynthia hearing stories of her parents' lives before Titanic. Laughter fell between them as Bradley relayed the times he and his friends had gotten into trouble on occasion. Y/n talked about her adventures with Natasha while in college and how her father went from a working class man to one made of riches. How her brother was a mischievous child, playing pranks on the higher-class members who would say mean things about their family. Bradley spoke of Pete, his Godfather, and of his parents who were the reason he went to England in the first place in 1912 to fulfill a dream they once wished of.

When it came time to call it a night, Cynthia kissed her parents on the cheek and departed to her room, thanking them for everything and being open with her. Once in their room Y/n removed her necklace, admiring it like she always did before bed and placed it on its holding, letting her thumb run over the smooth surface. On his side Bradley unfastened his watch, placing it next to the framed sepia photo of Y/n from their official wedding day that took place in May of 1912. Next to it were other photos, some black and white, of them over the years after Titanic. Y/n in her graduation gown. Their daughters as children and teenagers, on their wedding days and the birth of their grandchildren.

Tucked into the covers, Y/n smiled at the feeling of Bradley placing a kiss on her forehead. “You okay, doll?”

“I’m good,” she answered, leaning up to press her lips to his jaw. “Are you?”

“I am. More than what I thought I’d be. But you know,” his hand goes to take hers. “Having been so many years and with you by my side every day since, It’s made it easier. When I think about that night I still feel some guilt, but I don’t let it control me. Now when I have so much to live for. You, our daughters and grandchildren. Them.” He didn’t have to say their names for her to know who he was referring to.

Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bob, Jake, Natasha, her father, her brother.

They didn’t get to experience the lives they should’ve had. So in their place, Y/n and Bradley live everyday like it’s their last. Making it count so when they reunite with them they’ll have plenty of stories to share.

“Me too,” she whispers, curling into him so her head rested on his chest. The gentle beat of his heart filled her ears, bringing ease to the old woman as she drifted off to sleep. Echoing the words Bradley spoke to her the night they docked in New York.

“We go on. We go on for them.”

54 years later. April 2012.

Amelia stared at the pictures lining the wall, under the giant lettering that read First-Class. Hazel eyes drifting over each, reading the words inscribed on the plaques before moving to the next. When she landed on the one she searched for, her gaze turned soft. The black and white picture depicted the woman at a young age, the most eye-catching detail being the heart-shaped diamond around her neck. A moment later Amelia felt movement on either side of her.

“Is that her, Nana?” Her granddaughter, Melody, asked from her right. On her left was Melody’s mother, Amelia’s daughter, Y/n. Named after the woman on the plaque in front of them.

“It is, darling.” Together they read the writing detailing her grandmother’s fate following April 15th, 1912.

Y/n L/n: February 14, 1890 — December 1, 1985

Daughter of New York real estate developer, Y/f/n L/n and his wife Y/m/n L/n. Set sail from Southampton with her parents and younger brother.

Boarded Titanic at age 21.

Passed away at age 95.

Married third-class passenger Bradley Bradshaw aboard Titanic on April 15, 1912 as she sank. Graduated NYU May 1912. Moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Two daughters. Published romantic thrillers and a best-selling autobiography. Returned to Titanic wreckage site at age 95 in October 1985. Died from heart failure two months later.

“Wow,” Melody breathed, letting her eyes admire the beautiful woman in the photograph. Her great-great grandmother. When the idea of going to the Titanic museum on the 100th anniversary of the wreck came to her for her school project, Melody had no idea of her linkage to the disaster until the night before when her grandma Amelia said she had a confession to tell her. The whole night was spent sitting in their hotel room with Amelia relaying the story her grandmother Y/n told her when she was 12 before revealing the events of April 15th when she was 18.

Amelia’s own daughter, named after the woman who made a lasting impact on her life, hadn’t heard the tale either. She was just as shocked as Melody to learn her great-grandparents were on Titanic when she sank.

Originally Melody’s idea for her project was to discuss the impact on society the disaster made. But after hearing the story of how her great-great grandparents fell in love aboard the ship, married while it sank, and reunited on Carpathia and lived their lives in memory of the ones they lost, Melody shifted her idea, Focusing on how even when all hope seems to be lost, love finds a way to break through.

“She was beautiful.”

“She was. My grandpa said she was the most beautiful person aboard,” Amelia chuckled. “Though I think his best friend Jake would say otherwise.” Natasha, her grandmother's best friend, came to mind. Amelia takes a moment to point out Natasha’s plaque where they read her unfortunate fate. “It was love at first sight—as cliché as it sounds, but it’s the truth. Four days was all it took for my grandparents to fall in love. Waiting every detail in her diary. Marrying during the moment everyone was in a panic.” Together the three women stepped over to the opposite side of the wall where the third-class survivor plaques were. There Amelia found her grandfather’s handsome face near the top.

Bradley Bradshaw: June 10th, 1889 — September 5th, 1985

Traveled to New York from Southampton with his friends from childhood. Only one to survive after being pulled from the water having climbed onto driftwood after Titanic fully submerged.

Boarded Titanic at age 21.

Passed away at age 96.

Married first-class passenger Y/n L/n aboard Titanic on April 15, 1912 as she sank. Moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Two daughters. Became a fighter pilot for US Navy 1914. Drafted into First World War 1915. Died in his sleep four days after the wreckage of Titanic was discovered 1985.

Amelia’s smile was bittersweet, “My mother told me shortly after I learned the full story that she discovered their secret when she found her mother’s ticket tucked away in a box of newspaper clippings about the wreck. NOt too long later my grandmother shared with her the diary detailing her first-hand experiences on Titanic. The night they told her was the first time they had told the story from start to finish—telling it once again the night my grandmother shared with my sister and I how they met. Only she left out the details of that night for the sake we were too young to understand,” Amelia paused, her gaze still on her grandfather’s image. “They told us the rest when I was eighteen. After that, I don’t think I ever heard them mention Titanic until the news broke out that the shipwreck had been discovered. Four days later, my grandfather died in his sleep. His heart just stopped,” Amelia went quiet after adding. “It was like he was waiting.”

Though quiet the entire time, Amerlia’s daughter Y/n was deep in thought. Thinking back to her childhood and the short ten years she got to spend with her great-grandparents. Having been named after Y/n, they two shared a connection and even got the chance to wear the beautiful diamond necklace she always had around her neck. Little Y/n had been shielded from the media attention the family was receiving in the months after Titanic’s discovery. First the death of Bradley, then the elderly Y/n went on a secret trip she had no idea was about. Ending the year by attending her funeral that winter.

Knowing what she did now, Y/n understood why her family reacted a certain way whenever the famous ship was ever mentioned in conversation.

Melody read over the information, frowning slightly. “Do you think she died of a broken heart? Your grandma?”

“Oh I’m certain,” Amelia traveled back a few paces to see Y/n’s plaque. Careful to not bump into other guests in the exhibit. The significance of the day brought many visitors to the museum.

“Being with someone for seventy-four years..how could she go on? My mother feared the journey to the wreck site would kill her, but my grandmother was adamant she’d go. She and my grandfather never believed they’d be alive to witness the ship be located. With his death four days after, my grandmother fulfilled an unspoken promise between them. So she went with my mother and aunt—ninety five years old remember, and saw the waters one last time. One thing you should know is my grandmother never crossed the Atlantic again after 1912. My grandfather did, because of the war, but I think Y/n was waiting until Titanic was located to travel the sea again. A part of her soul was left behind that night—losing the father she adored and her brother. Then you had my grandfather’s best friends.” She took another pause, hands moving to her pockets where she felt the leather bound diary.

Y/n’s diary.

The one she wrote in her will that was to be donated to the Titanic museum on April 15, 2012. Exactly 100 years to the day that the ship of dreams became one with the sea.

“Going to the site filled that final gaping hole in her. But the loss of her true love was too much for my grandmother. And so she passed in her sleep exactly three months to the day after Titanic was found.” Amelia removed the book from her pocket, hand softly touching the rough and dated surface of the leather. “Leaving me with this to fulfill some of her last wishes.”

“Is that…..” Melody leaned closer, her mother doing the same. Both were staring at the book with wonder and awe.

“Her diary,” the older woman confirmed their suspicions. “She wished for it to be donated here on the centennial anniversary,” Amelia gave her granddaughter a look, “I didn’t plan for you wanting to come here when I made sure to fulfill the promise. Having you two here is a bonus—especially now that you know everything.” Amelia could see in their eyes they were practically itching to open the book, wanting to see the contents that laid within.

Moving to a bench in the corner away from prying eyes, Amelia motioned for them to sit on either side of her. “The museum director is expecting me once we finish here so I must be careful with this. For preservation reasons, I’ll be the one to hold and turn the pages, but I’d love to share with you her words. And I know she would want the same,” glancing at the women, she received eager nods. “Alrighty then.”

Opening the cover, their eyes met the cursive writing that belonged to Amelia’s grandmother, her name in bold cursive, Y/n L/n. Amelia gently turned to the first page, dated one month before Titanic sailed on her maiden voyage.

“Monday, March 10, 1912. Father has come home with the news of his invitation to a conference in London next month. Not only has he informed my mother and I of his wishes for us to join him, but also he has purchased tickets for the White Star Line’s new vessel expected to set sail one month from today. They are calling her, Titanic…”

As Amerlia read off the words of her grandmother one last time, she wondered if her grandparents were back on the ship of dreams with their friends and family. Crossing the Atlantic in a place where time and space ceased to exist. Only the open ocean and the beautiful skies. Where Bradley was chasing a giggling Y/n down the corridors. Where Natasha got to live the life she dreamed with Jake. Their friends with them and Y/n’s family together at last.

It was a long wait full of patience. One seventy-four years in the making.

But as Y/n took her last breath on the night of December 1st, 1985, she was young and full of life, wearing the Heart of the Ocean as she ran to board the ship about to sail for a journey that would never end. Coming to the platform where a young Bradley stood, a spitting image of what he looked like the first time she laid eyes on him, his hand out for her to take. Behind him were the smiling faces of her family and friends—some of whom she hadn’t seen in seventy years, with the passengers of Titanic on the decks above. A beaming Natasha holding Jake’s hand, waving to Y/n as her children peeked from behind her legs.

Y/n locked eyes on her husband. The soulmate she had been without for three months. No words were spoken. Conversing everything they wanted to say in just the one look.

‘We’ve been waiting for ya, doll.’

‘I had to do something first.’

‘We know,’ a silent nod passes. ‘We were there with you.’ Gesturing his head to the ship as if to say, ‘You ready?’ Bradley stepped forward, hand still out for Y/n to take. Not even hesitating, Y/n grasped his warm palm in his, the feeling all too familiar as a spark of life shot through her chest.

Boarding Titanic together for the first and final time.

………………

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

[one-berzerker]

This is kinda out of left field, but I wanted to share; imagine Rose and Ilmo bonding. This has spoilers for AW2's endgame, so beware!

Like, they were likely already acquainted with how their jobs overlapped (Coffee World and Oh Deer), but after the events of AW2, with both Cynthia and Jaakko's deaths, they really connect over being the last one standing. They now have to shoulder their duties as "Lady of the Light" and "Leader of the Cult of the Tree" by themselves, but by making that connection with each other, they're no longer alone.

Idk I want Ilmo to find comfort in someone who understands the horrors™️

[mintaikk]

Steven Stone headcanons because he's one of my favorite characters

-He's really good at old timey electroswing dances, and shit at any other ones. Probably dances like this with Wallace

-If he and Wallace ever got married, he'd probably propose with a rose quartz ring because they symbolize love and compassion

-I like to believe that he's had his metagross ever since he was a kid. In the games, he also mentions how his favorite pokemon is beldum. It'd be cute to think of him getting his metagross as a beldum, as well as it being his first pokemon

-No, but the games go out of their way to talk about how attractive he is (especially team magma and team aqua). He's aware of all of it, but chooses to ignore it. Does get awkward or flustered anytime someone flirts with him

-He can and will go on four hour tangents talking about his favorite rocks (he literally talked to deoxys about a cool rock I can't with him-)

-Owns metagross shorts. In fact, change his summer outfit in masters to wear metagross shorts, and we're all good

-This isn't really a headcanon, but masters mentions how he likes Hoenn Rangers (pkmn version of power rangers) and I like the idea of him being a super hero comic nerd

-Considering the fact that he goes and hands out rocks to people, he is most likely the one that helped Wally find a dawn stone and a moon stone to evolve his gallade and delcatty

-Sits on his Metagross doing whatever (reading, messing with his rocks, sleeping) and Metagross just kinda lets it happen

-His favorite candy is rock candy

-When he found out what Terra stones where, he put Wallace in charge of being Champion for like 6 months as he raced his way to Area Zero

-Has autism with stones being his special interest (idk if it's real, but I can't get over the line above)

-Ironically, he doesn't like rock music. He heard it once and never again

-Really enjoys art museums and all that kind of stuff, especially statues. Him and Cynthia go together anytime one of them visits

-Has lickded at least 5 rocks and has attempted to eat at least 1

-Both cares about neatness and doesn't care. When in caves, he won't care about getting his clothes dirty, but doesn't like getting messy outside of that

-Anime only: Has a soft spot for Maryn and Alain, and let's them get away with more than they should

-Enjoys boardgames a lot. In my champion roommate au, I can imagine Iris and Blue trying to teach Steven how to play Mario Kart or something, and he just sucks ass at it. But he's really good at Minecraft for some reason. Spends a lot of times in the game mining

-Really good friendswith Professor Sycamore and they talk about mega evolution and rocks together

-He sleeps in really soft pajamas and is sometimes a nerd about them. He has Skarmory, Cadilly, and Aggron onsies, and a pajama top with beldum patterns on it. Casual clothes would be T-shirts with words like, "Sinnoh Rocks!" and then having a lot of evolutionary stones for the print pattern or something like that

-Aggron's dex entry mentions how they plant trees and soil to keep their mountains looking nice. Steven saw his Aggron doing this, and started doing a bit of gardening himself

-Wallace does, in fact, use the nickname "Silver-haired dreamboat" for him and Steven looks like this anytime that happens

(I wanna make a post just rambling about originshipping because I love it a lot)

[ninjaturtlemaniac]

which artist do you wish to have a voice in the next trolls movie?

Hello Gorgeous 💖

They should do the equivalent with Anna Kendrick with what they did with Justin Timberlake and NSYNC.

PITCH PERFECT VOICES!

I mean they already had Skylar Austin (Jesse in Pitch Perfect) as Branch in the TV Show.

ESTER DEAN we were ROBBED. She is Cynthia Rose in Pitch Perfect and she voices Legsly. They have this absolutely legendary singer/songwriter/actress and Legsly is barely in the movie! 🔥 I think they should use her again in the future and actually utilize her voice which is why I cast her as one of my OCs. 😊

But I can imagine them casting Ruby Rose as a random Troll. Not sure who, maybe a Rock Troll. Ohhh she can be my other OC 😈 sweet.

Should I just write an OC list with their voices? Okay you talked me into it. ❤️‍🔥💋

Main Characters Children:

Princess Harmony 🎶 - Hilary Duff (Lizzie McGuire)

Princess Rosiepuff 🌹- Hailee Steinfeld (Pitch Perfect)

Prince Ace - Currently a baby but when he is older? Jesse McCartney.

Princess Clover 🍀- Nicki Minaj 😏

Prince Birdie 🐦- Juan Pablo De Pace (Fernando in Fuller House)

Angel 🪽- Donald Glover (Childish Gambino)

Phoenix 🔥- Jared Padalecki (Sam from Supernatural)

Sugar Gals:

Sable 🍸- Emmy Rossum (Fiona from Shameless)

Sage 🛍️- Amanda Seyfreid (Karen Sykes from Mean Girls)

Scout 🪖- Stephanie Beatriz (Rosa from Brooklyn 99)

Summer 🫧- Ester Dean (Cynthia Rose from Pitch Perfect)

Sonnet 🎨- Kerry Washington (Olivia Pope from Scandal)

Floyd's Ex Boyfriend Saga:

Cider 🍺- Robert Patrick (Terminator)

Steel 🎸- Will Arnett (Arrested Development)

Dom ❤️- Zachary Levi (Chuck/Shazam/Flynn Ryder)

Halen 🥀- Ruby Rose (From Pitch Perfect) (Dom's Sister named for Van Halen)

Cabaret 🪶 - Alex Brightman (Fizzarolli from Helluva Boss)

Jewel 💎- J.K Simmons (J. Jonah. Jameson in Spiderman)

These will most likely change 😈😝

[thefae-journal]

tripping the wires

fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies ship: Faccivinos pov: second person, Jane

word count: 3,623 warnings: n/a

summary: That night she snuck in through your bedroom window, drenched from the rain. You helped dry her off with a spare towel from your bathroom, and everything seemed to fall into place.

- "i want more (just not this)"

Also on AO3

Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies masterlist masterlist

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

This is where it started. Under the bleachers, you approached her while her head was buried in a book. You don’t remember which book it was, but that detail doesn’t matter. Like it was nothing, she told you off. Her words cut deep. 

Take a glass half full and drown in it then. 

Yet, there she was, standing with you on stage after she was the first person to endorse you. Stood and flashed her ass to the entire eleventh grade, with you. 

Stole Gil’s car. Made you buttons—and kissed every one of them. Snuck out of detention. Tried her best to make sure that people didn’t hate you.

For you. Everything she did. Does . That can’t just go ignored. And it doesn’t. 

She didn’t let you drown, no matter how full the glass was and how much it overflowed. 

You thought that this was normal friendship stuff. This was how friendships worked. You’ve never had any friends, not in the first fifteen years of your life. Not really, not like this. And just like that, that wasn’t how it was anymore. So suddenly, Olivia Valdovinos held your hand and didn’t let go. Couldn’t let go. 

At the Frosty Palace, your hand brushed hers on the seat of the booth, under the table. You were sitting beside her, and Nancy, who was off the clock but still in her uniform, was on the other side of you. Then Cynthia was next to Nancy, and Hazel on the other side of Olivia. Chatter of winter break plans floated through the somewhat empty Frosty Palace. Slow day. 

“I’ll have to come here as much as I can,” Olivia said. “To see all of you, but most of break, I’ll be with my family. Now that Richie is back—” She shook her head, her curls slightly bouncing. “I can’t stay away from you for too long. I might go insane.”

Everyone laughed, even you—a light giggle that leaped from your tongue. 

“What about you, Jane? Not seeing us every day, how will you survive?” she teased, and nudged your shoulder with her own. “Won’t you miss me?” On the light blue leather of the booth, pinkies touched, then linked. As if it was normal. Right. 

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you bowed your head and stared at your hands. How your pinkies fitted so well together. You imagined what it would be like if it was her whole hand. Her whole hand captured by yours, embraced by yours. But you already knew what that felt like—she held your hand at the fall carnival. That was different… somehow.

“Of course I’ll miss my Pinks. I love you guys, but break is only a week, and we can still hang out.” 

“I would like that,” Hazel chimed in. “It’s been a few weeks since we’ve had a sleepover, all together.” 

Sleepover. You lifted your gaze, and Olivia was the first in your view. With no effort at all, her just existing, being, sweeping locks of her hair over her shoulder, your breath hitched like it was stuck in your throat and couldn’t properly be expelled. Her hair had gotten a little longer since the fall, before Thanksgiving. What you would give to run your hand through it…

This didn’t make any sense. She was your best friend, just your best friend. Nothing else beyond that. And friends… they didn’t think of each other like that, in that way. When she smiled, it warmed you from the inside out. This warmth sat in your stomach, crawled through every vein in your body. Blood boiled to a simmer that rose to your cheeks—flush. 

When she looked at you, touched your shoulder and her thumb brushed along the material of your dress. Every time she was at your side during the days that were sour. You’re enough. 

You’re Jane. 

Her little chuckle when those words came out of her mouth. 

How you wished then that she tucked your hair behind your ear. Just a little. Only a little.

Olivia squeezed your pinkie, and you were brought back to Nancy’s hand waving in front of your face. 

“Hello, Earth to Jane,” Nancy said, retracting her hand. “Did you hear anything I said?” 

“I—” You glanced around the table, at each of the Pink Ladies. Hazel and Olivia’s genuine concern, Nancy’s very clear annoyance that she might have to repeat everything. You couldn’t read Cynthia, her head tilted to the side. But her eyes seemed focused, studying you almost, for a moment before she blinked it away. “No.” 

“Where was that head of yours, huh?” It was no longer just pinkies, but full hands clasped together. Olivia moved them to her lap, and keeping your composure after spacing out became harder to do. “You’re always running, Janey. Slow down for a second.” 

Janey.

Nancy groaned and crossed her arms over the table. “Sleepover. My house instead of yours.” 

“O-okay? Are you asking or…?” 

“Yes, I’m asking!” 

“You know you didn’t have to ask. I’ve always wondered why none of you ever offered to do a Pink Ladies sleepover not…” You paused, feeling Olivia’s fingers spread yours apart so hers could fit in between. You opened your mouth to at least try to say something. Nothing came out. You couldn’t finish what you were saying because Olivia caught your tongue or zippered your lips shut. 

Hazel adjusted her glasses. “Not… what?” 

You cleared your throat. “I… um…” 

Sweat built up in the cracks of your palms, even the one Olivia was holding. That meant that she would feel it. That meant that she would know you were nervous—because your hands were always sweaty when you were nervous or flustered. That meant that Olivia would ask you if something was wrong. That meant that Olivia would be more concerned than she already was. Maybe ask more questions than you could handle. 

Your grip on Olivia’s hand tightened, uncomfortably tightened, and you started feeling the pressure of the Pinks’ eyes on you. Waiting. Waiting for anything to leave your mouth. One word. The slightest noise. A single breath. 

Olivia’s other hand found yours, now enveloped, like a hug. And for a moment, you eased, finally exhaled. “Jane? Are you—?” 

“I’m fine! I’m fine. I just need to, um…” You gestured to Nancy and Cynthia to leave the booth. Once they did, a bit confused as to why they had to, your hand slipped out of Olivia’s, and you slid out of the booth like it was fire under you. You needed to get out. You needed to be alone. Breathe. Fucking breathe. 

You rushed to the bathroom. Turned on the faucet of one of the sinks and let the water run. Your hands rested at either side of the sink, grasping at the white. If nails could dig into porcelain, make a dent, yours would. 

What the hell was wrong with you? Your eyes met the matching ones in the mirror. Your face was all red, eyes close to watering. You sniffled. “Fuck.” 

“Jane?” It was Cynthia.

You jumped and twisted the knobs of the faucet to stop the cold water from flowing. You dried your eyes. 

You didn’t even hear the door open. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured her. “I just—” 

She leaned back against the bathroom door. “You like Olivia, don’t you?” 

You did. Do. When those words crept to your ears, reality set in. Truth set in. It was out there. Cynthia knew—just by how you looked at her. There was no more escaping it. There was no more not knowing what this was. What your feelings were. What they meant. 

After your talk with Cynthia, you went back to the booth, sat next to Olivia like you weren’t just telling Cynthia how your whole heart would swell at the sight of her barely minutes ago. She leaned close to you to whisper into your ear: “Are you okay?” 

You nodded. 

You wish you don’t have to hide from her.

Almost midnight, and you are lying in your bed, tucked in, lights off. All you can think about is her. Your mind simply won’t shut itself off even though it needs to because the tiredness in your body is reaching your eyes, and they are starting to ache. You try to rub them awake with your knuckles, but it doesn’t soothe the sleep that’s bound to catch them. 

Rain pounds against the roof, and although this usually lulls you to sleep, tonight, it’s ineffective, as you toss and turn. Pull the comfort close, then shove it away, then pull it close again. Scream into your pillow. Cry. So much crying. Out of frustration. Pain—internal pain. Pain that makes it seem like your chest is tight or your stomach is upset, but it’s just the result of every single thought passing through your brain that you’re struggling to piece together because of how fast they’re going. 

On your stomach, you bury your face in your pillow, hugging it—the same position you sleep in when you have cramps. The pressure to your stomach makes it better, relieves the spasms that plague you. You wonder if the pressure of your forehead pushed in the pillow would do the same—flip that thinking switch, turn it off. Like Olivia said: slow down. 

You laugh. Slow down? Jane Facciano, slow down? That’s too much like a fantasy. 

Jane Facciano doesn’t slow down. Not in her head. Not in her body. 

Unfortunately. 

Not when Olivia is stuck in the webs. Not when you can’t stop thinking about kissing—

Shut up. Just shut up. 

Shut up. 

As if your brain is listening, it goes quiet, except for the tapping of glass. Tapping that isn’t inside your brain at all, but outside of it. At your window. 

Slow, you fold the comforter over, put on your glasses, and approach the window. Lights still off, darkness encasing your bedroom. No shadows linger on the carpet floor or the pink walls, until you pull open the curtain, and bits of the street lights shine through. On the other side of the window is Olivia, soaked—her hair, her clothes, her skin, her face. 

“God, Olivia.” You wave your hand down, signaling for her to duck, before pushing the window open. You help her climb in, then close the window so rain doesn’t get in and dampen the cushion of the window seat. 

When you turn, she's standing in front of you, a victim of the downpour. But still, beautiful. So damn beautiful. 

In her wet clothes, she shivers, and seeing her chin and lips quiver, you guide her to your bathroom without a word. Shut the door. Lights on.

You grab a towel from the closet and wrap it around her shoulders. She tugs the towel at the corners, seeking more of it so her elbows are under it too. With your hands on her arms, you check over her—her face, her body—to make sure that she’s okay. Physically anyway. And besides being soaked from head to toe, she seems like she is. 

“I’m going to get you dry clothes, okay? Wait here.” You turn to leave the bathroom, but her fingers wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You go back to where you once were, your hands on her arms. You stroke them. “Are you okay?” you ask, your voice a low hum in the quiet of the bathroom. 

Olivia, oddly, avoids your eyes, staring down at the cream tile floor. You’ve never seen her like this. So frail and broken. A cat shoved into a corner with no possible way to flee. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers.

“Liv, I…” You pause, a long beat as you gather your words. “I’m here. You’re not alone, I promise. You need to get out of these wet clothes before you get sick. I’ll be back, okay? I’ll be gone…” You wipe away drops of water trailing down her cheeks from the rain, water dripping from her hair. “...only for a second. Well, um, not literally a second.” 

She laughs, then nods, giving you permission to go now. 

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be back,” you say.

But you don’t go. You lose yourself in her. The softness and vulnerability of the moment. The way her eyes finally meet yours. How her eyes are less brown under these lights. More blue. Or is it green? A combination of the two maybe. Either way, they’re— 

They truly are something special. Just like she is. 

You know that if you were to place your hand over your heart, it would be pounding, fast. If you leave, fetch her new clothes like you said you will, it might even out. Not be as fast as you imagine it is. Thumping, like when Fran used to jump from one stair to the next a few years ago instead of walking up them. If she touches you, your wrist, any spot that radiates a pulse, will she feel it, too? 

“I’ll be back,” you repeat with a heavy breath, and this time, you do go, the door left open behind you so she can see you. 

She can see you turn on one of your lamps, the one closest to your bed. She can see you at your dresser, browsing through each drawer. She can see you venturing into your closet, hear you humming to yourself. She can see you as you settle on pajama shorts and a long-sleeve button-up. Baby blue, no pattern. You give them to her, and she can’t see you anymore.

...

No, I… What makes you think that I do? She’s my best friend. I can’t— 

You surrendered. Is it that obvious?

Yes, but even if it wasn't, it just makes sense. 

What Cynthia said holds weight within your body. 

You’re practically attached at the hip. Wherever we are, you’re always next to each other. 

When Olivia quit the Pink Ladies, it was like you were going through a divorce. 

I know you’ve been having Pink Ladies sleepovers without us. Is it even a Pink Ladies sleepover if it’s only you and Olivia?

For the first time, you released every bit of your feelings for her. Said the scary parts out loud.

You wanted to be close to her. Always.

You couldn’t stand being away from her, and you truly thought that winter break was going to kill you if you couldn’t see her at least once during that week. 

You liked when she held your hand. You liked when it was just you and her, alone. 

Her abandoning her Pink Ladies jacket at your house felt like a break-up. The worst break-up that hit you hard, harder than you expected it to. 

That night, you wore her jacket to bed. Sobbed into your pillow. All because you thought you lost the most amazing person you had ever met. 

Your mom came into your room, hearing your sobs from down the hall, and she didn’t understand. She tried her best to comfort you, but it couldn’t stop the crack from forming in your chest where your heart resided. 

And when Olivia chose you, chose the Pink Ladies instead of getting married, you never felt more relieved. You wanted to cry right then and there, but kept it together, for her. That was what she needed. 

That is what she needs after walking through the rain, climbing up the wall garden and to your bedroom. You’ll do that, mute your aching just for a moment. Whatever she needs. 

I like Olivia. Maybe I even… love… her. 

You sit on your bed, your legs crossed like a soft pretzel, and you brush Olivia’s hair. Untangle it of the knots that came because of the rain. You’re gentle with her, slowly moving the brush from the top of her head to the tips that end below her shoulders. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

Olivia lowers her head, and you adjust to her movements, her posture. “Richie wants to ask you to… to… go with him.” 

You stop. 

“We had a fight. It woke my little cousins. He’s never—” She sniffles and brings her knees to her chest. “He’s never yelled at me like that before. We don’t… yell at each other. He was so angry, Janey.” 

You’re not sure you comprehend it. How an argument started from Richie wanting to try again with you. If anything, you’re flattered that he does. But… Richie is history. You have your eyes on someone else now, someone you can’t have. You have to pay the price for it. 

Falling for a girl. Falling for your best friend. 

You shake your head and continue brushing her hair. It’s not dripping anymore—just damp. 

“I said something that I shouldn’t have. It was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking. If I kept my mouth shut—” Olivia hiccups. “Girls aren’t allowed to have what they want. They have to take what they’re given and accept it. I didn’t… couldn’t accept it because what I want is too strong.” 

You finish up the last strands of her hair and set your brush down. All nice and smooth, like it should be. You know it’ll be soft once it dries, even if she doesn’t tend to it, pin it up, style it. “Your voice is just as important as his, if not more important.” You comb your fingers through her hair. “It’s important to me. You’re…” 

You’re important to me. 

Olivia looks over her shoulder at you, tears brimming her eyes. “I wish everyone was like you, Jane. I think life would be better if they were.” 

Your hand finds her back and lingers for a moment, before rubbing it up and down, hoping to calm her pending tears, the sadness that rules over her. “I think life would be better if everyone was like you.” 

“What? No, Jane, you don’t have to say that to—”

“I’m not. I mean it.” 

She sharply turns and hugs you, her arms around your neck. Despite the change in position, your hands still rest on her back. And your stomach, well, your stomach feels fuzzy. 

And you, you feel alive. 

As she buries her nose in your hair. 

How her fingers play with the baby curls on your neck. 

How this feels so… right, and it’s a hug. Just a hug. You’ve hugged her plenty of times before. But this hug, here, carries every single ounce of love that feels like home. 

“It upsets me when people don’t see it, don’t see you outside of… of your body and your looks. You have a beautiful brain inside that head of yours, Liv. And a beautiful heart. One of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. If people don’t see that, see who you truly are, it’s their loss,” you say. “I see you. I always have.” You pull away, only a little, enough to see her face and the tears present on her cheeks. “Olivia, you’re allowed to want things, even if the world says you can’t have them.” 

You already know. There are so many things you would beg to have, but the world isn’t kind. The world can give you a home one day and betray you the next. The world can give you love one day and rip it out of your arms the next. The pain it drops on you is too much to bear. The feelings you have for Olivia, the tugging it does of your limbs, is too much. 

It’s all too much, and there’s nothing you can do to escape it. Even when the world says it’s not right. Even when the world says it’s bad. Even when the world won’t let you love her because loving her causes the tide to travel in the wrong direction. 

But the wrong direction is the right direction. For you, this is what’s right. You and Olivia. This want to be with her, more than a friend would. And if you come crashing, you’ll crash together. 

If she wants this, too. If she wants… 

What if she doesn’t? What if all of this is just you?

Yet, you wipe her tears away with your thumbs as if it’s not. As if it is the both of you. She is in this, too. When she relaxes into your touch, you start to wonder… unless she’s yearning for comfort, any kind of comfort, and she’s not seeing your actions as something romantic.

Until her hand connects with yours, keeping you there on her cheek. “I’m so glad you asked me to be your campaign manager.” Your eyes drift down to her lips as she speaks. “And that I chose you.” 

“I am, too.” 

You don’t mean to do it again. You don’t mean to lean in. You catch your body acting before your mind can approve. You don’t try to stop yourself, because she reciprocates. She looks at your lips, too. She leans in, too. 

Is that why she and Richie fought? Because of you? Did her hand on yours, her soft breaths on your skin, her stolen glances of your lips force her to brave the rain? All the times she held your hand, asked to come over and stay the night, called you during weekends to say hi or that she misses you… 

You exhale and nuzzle your nose against hers. “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?” you whisper. 

Olivia nods, and the feeling you’ve only dreamed of, the feeling you thought you would never get to feel cascades through you, a sudden wave of warmth. A kiss. Her kiss. Her lips on yours. And everything you wanted, everything you thought you couldn’t have, falls into place.

[steel--fairy]

Character Headcanons #1

champions and the leadup to them becoming champions!

lance started his journey at 14, the traditional age in the dragon clan to let kids go out on journeys. they have to pass a certain test in order to receive a dragon type and he did (clair failed the first time rip). his first pokemon was a dratini ofc. he did all the johto gyms, beat the e4 and made champion rank, then went on to the kanto gyms (which i see as being a common thing among high level trainers from kanto and johto. you do your own region and make it to the champion level if you can then try the other 8 across the mountain). he travelled the world for a few years and after he returned, he joined the e4 at about 24ish and made his way up to being the leader of the e4. he was pretty content in that position but wasn't too upset to become sitting champion when red unexpectedly left.

steven became a trainer a bit older than most expect. he was content to travel and mine rocks and never really considered being a trainer until a bit after he turned 16 and his dad was like "well you're old enough to start learning how to take over from me someday : )" and steven was immediately like "actually i think im gonna try being a trainer I'll come back latermaybebye" and yeeted himself out of rustboro faster than you can say electrode. he ended up being very good at training which was just a bonus. shortly into his journey he learned about mega evolution and completely halted doing the hoenn gyms to yeet himself to kalos to learn about it properly. when he gets back he basically just. curbstomps everyone with the fairly unknown mega evolution ability and becomes champion at around 19ish.

wallace comes from a family thats very established in the contest circuit, with several older sisters who were all master ranks coordinators. he started young (10 or so) and very quickly rose to being a top coordinator in hoenn. however his older sisters all eventually stopped competing leaving him miles ahead of the rest. its very boring when you're basically just competing against yourself so he was like "well im going to try being a trainer now : )" at 16ish and was instantly successful at that too. it also scratched his competitive itch a bit better, especially when he became a gym trainer (and later gym leader) for juan as he liked the challenge of trying to fit his team to the challengers level. it got even better when this one guy managed to absolutely destroy everyone in the gym despite having a pretty severe type disadvantage and they became best friends and rivals : ) as for being champion, he takes over from steven shortly after the whole team magma-aqua fiasco.

cynthia had a very protagonist like journey. she set out at 12ish with her gible, got a pokedex from prof rowan and set about filling it (though she had already gotten a badge or two by the time she ran into rowan), had some grand adventure, became champion very young (13 or so) and has held onto her title ever since.

alder is super interesting to think about because he's old lol i imagine that the unova league was still fairly newish at that point in time so the concept of going to a gym to battle was very thrilling and unique, though not everyone thought it was a good thing. alder started his journey pretty young (13ish?) and took his sweet time doing the challenge as he just loved exploring so much. he only became champion at like 18 or 19 and not because he was bad at battling. he was probably one of the first champions in unova and reigned for quite a few years. then of course his first partner volcarona died. he resigned from battling for a long while until pulled back in a bit before bw starts. the previous champion unexpectedly retired due to illness, and since they hadn't been ousted by battle, all the members of the pokemon league voted for a new champion. alder was fairly surprised when he got a call saying he was up for champion duties round 2 if he wanted them, but agreed to come back until a new champion won the title.

iris challenged alder and won : ) haha, she's just a bit too young to have as much history as the others lol she wasn't ever a gym leader, but she did work as a gym trainer for her grandpa which was great practice.

diantha came from a rich family who wanted her to focus more on her acting career than battling but diantha was insistent on taking time off to try the gym challenge. (her parents were mortified. it's one thing to have a few leisurely battles at the battle maison where you can make connections but to join the rabble in the gym challenge? eugh.) but her parents bought her a specially bred ralts and off she went. she was young enough (14 or so) but by that point she had a decent acting career which led to her being noticed every so often. she quickly became champion (diantha's good and kalos doesn't exactly have a strong battling culture) which caused a huuuuuge argument between her and her parents who were still very stage parenting her.

leon is like cynthia. he was basically another little 10 year old protagonist prodigy who quickly rose to the top. but for some hc's, he got his sponsorship from kabu. motostoke was the closest gym so he and sonia took the train there to ask for it. kabu, as most gym leaders do, asked for a battle to see if they were good enough and was blown away by leon's already evident skill with his charmander.

[sp1derc1der]

Some questions for the day.

Who would win in a fight, Cynthia or Volo?

How do weredragon Cynthia and Volo work biologically? Is it like insects or some sort of bizarre centaur anatomy thing.

Do you plan on doing any of the members (Like Agate, Amethio or Gibeon) from pokemon horizons?

Would Carmine’s weredragon be similar to Kieran’s if she had one?

How tall are Rose and Leon? Because I’d imagine that Rose looks kinda big in my mind.

Would Draconids/dragon tamers be considered allies of weredragons because of them being pretty much what I described?

Would Az have a weredragon form? And would be similar to like a sauropod or vhagar from HOTD?

1: Probably Cynthia since, well, she’s more bulkier than Volo and would probably beat him easily. Poor Volo got the string cheese Alastor Tumblr sexyman physique while Cynthia got the Aggron, but floof treatment.

2: They kinda work like praying mantises since they’re the closest thing we have to centaurs (four limbs for moving and two for attacking)

3: I haven’t watched Horizons, but I don’t plan on drawing them as weredragons. I’m more or less sticking to the games.

4: She’d probably look similar to Kieran, but have a sharper snoot (she’d also look fiercer than her brother), so think of Haku from Spirited Away, but more fearsome-looking

5: Leon’s around 2.4 meters, so nearly a whole meter taller than his ace Pokémon, Charizard. As for Rose, he’d probably be around 3.9 meters (i have a headcanon that he and archie are somewhat related, so that’s why they share similarities and are large boyes)

6: Yep. Weredragons are pretty much respected in many regions (unless your name is Ghetsis and you’re from Unova), so the Draconids and dragon tamers would probably help to protect weredragons (yes, they’re powerful enough to potentially kill someone, but they can be killed easily, so think of dragon tamers and the Draconids as bodyguards)

7: AZ would probably be a weredragon. As for if he’d be sauropod-based, probably not. If I did design a dragon form for AZ, he’d have some Zygarde, tarrasque from French mythology, and tortoise inspiration. Maybe a few Ultimate Weapon and Eternal Flower Floette design touches as well. He’s not going to be a wyvern like Lysandre and Diantha

[lea-khena]

Following my talk with some friends I've come to realise that the majority of people seem to view Cyrus as rather small but i personally think hes more on the taller side than the small side. Maybe not a giant size but firmly at least on the "taller than average" size. I feel the need to share my interpretation of this reasoning.

Reason why i put him tall is because he IS tall in most of his canonical interpretation. Hes only small when you look at his model in USUM and compare him to the other pokevillains but in pokemon masters hes taller than gio, maxie archie, lusa, cynthia, rose, heck hes actually pretty tall and among the pokevillains theres only lysandre, ghetsis and guzma (if he stood straight) who are taller than him. In BDSP he stands at least a good head taller than all of his commanders. He is shown also tall in both the anime and the mangas, taller than a majority of characters he encounters.

From a design viewpoint, it also makes sense for him to be taller : it gives him even more of an aura of mystery, intimidating cold and dark presence, a strong dominating will, almost unreachable... His will to become the god of his new perfect world, a vision of perfection that is beyond emotions and thus beyond humanity, something he constantly tries to do, distancing himself from people and his own emotions, unreachable, taller than people is what he wishes to be in a sense and in a sense, he is. In a very scary way.

So I'm personally a firm believer that cyrus is actually tall. I personally like to imagine him around the 5 foot 10 or 11, but i dont have any proof for specific height thats just personal preference.

I think the belief hes small comes from when USUM was popular and rainbow rocket spread like rockfire. Also BDSP did him no favor by putting everyone into chibbis lol so that probably also influenced it.

I also want to say i have no problem if you hc Cyrus as small xD you do you and what you like!! Just wanted to put my two cents out there and see if maybe some people would like my vision

[pettyotome]

Into The Devil's Psyche - Chapter One

Summary: In a twist of fate, Akari becomes his patient.

Read: here.

The first time he saw her, he was taken aback, and it seems that she was too. But unlike him, she wore it all on her face. She looked at him with sharp, cautious eyes, like she was on the verge of figuring something out– but just couldn’t quite pin exactly what that was. 

“Sorry,” she finally spoke, and with clarity, “You just look a lot like Cynthia, but in glasses.” 

And you look a lot like Akari. 

It was a thought he considered articulating out loud, just to see how she’d react. But that would be inappropriate, she was here as his patient, after all. 

“Please, no need for apologies.” He widened the door, gesturing for her to come in, “Welcome, Miss Yukimura.”

She gives him a faint smile before stepping forward, a designer handbag hangs from her wrist as she walks in, shoulders pointed in her rose gold dress coat. It was a bit jarring to see her so… poised in the way she carried herself, strutting into a therapy session like it was a runway show. He’d gotten glimpses of her on TV and through a billboard once or twice– in this new reality, she seemed too glamourous to have even been real. 

And that only made him resent Arceus even more, not only for choosing her, but for making her untouchable in this lifetime as well.

“Oh my gosh, is that a Growlithe over there?” Her eyes lifted in excitement over at the corner of the office as she made herself comfortable on the plush sofa across from his chair. 

The Growlithe perks up at her presence in the room, doing a little hop from his little napping corner, making a cute, enthusiastic walk over to the couch. 

“Yes, it is. I hope you don’t mind, he’s a Therapy Pokemon.” He smiled warmly as he shut the door from behind him, approaching his desk for his notes.

“Not at all! I never had these the last time I was in therapy.” She pats the empty spot next to her, and Growlithe jumps up there. She cups his face with her hands in affectionate glee.

“I see, well, I hope that it can provide you great comfort whenever you need it here.” 

“I’d give you a five star review just for this cute little Growlithe!” 

He gives her a laugh, and uses the moment she’s distracted by Growlithe’s company to take another look at her file sitting next to his notepad. It seemed that he was referred to her by Cynthia.

Her name, written in bold, was Hikari Yukimura. Twenty-seven years old. To the rest of the world, she was Sinnoh’s Champion, a world renowned fashion designer, coordinator, award winning actress, and a pop star. But to the medical world? She was just like any other headcase who’d been in and out of therapy ever since she was fifteen, her notes were detailed with a long list of mental health issues and substance abuse that she ended up in rehab for a couple of times. But so far, she’d shown great strides in her overall emotional well being in the past recent years. 

He looked back at her with suspicion, she looked blissfully ignorant enough while playing with Growlithe, but he couldn’t write this off the similarity in her name and her likeness to Akari as a coincidence.

“Fifteen feet apart, right?” He made note of the sensitive information on her file. 

Apparently, Mesprit decided to gift her with the magical ability to feel other people’s thoughts and emotions, within fifteen feet of her. It made sense. Akari always had a stronger link to Mesprit out of all the Lake Guardians. 

“Yes, please.” Hikari said, with a bit of stress hanging onto her voice.

“Of course. I can only imagine how straining it is for you to have to internalize other people’s psyche, and this should be a safe space for you.” He smiles at her, but what he really means is that he wouldn’t want her to have access to his thoughts either.

“Thank you… it sounds nifty in theory but in practice… I just want peace, you know? And it ends up not being all it’s cracked up to be.” She says, resentment fills her voice.

He’s curious to know, but it wouldn’t be wise to push so early into the session on their first meeting. He still had a PHD to uphold. 

“Is that what brings you into therapy today, Hikari?” He asks, pen and notepad in hand as he sits on the chair across from her. 

Her lips part a little as she rests her hand on Growlithe’s head. She looks off to the side, like she’s ashamed to not have an answer prepared for this session. Or maybe, she was embarrassed about her reasons, whatever they may be. But still he waited, relaxing his shoulders into the cushion of the chair. 

“Oh, no it’s not. I’m sorry, I…” Hikari sighed, a cloud of exhaustion leaving her lips, “It’s been awhile since I’ve done this and… I just feel stupid since I thought I was over it, I thought I conquered it, and… I just didn’t think I’d be at this place again.”

“What is it that you thought you were over?” His voice is very soothing when he asks. 

“The nightmares. I had a lot of them when I was fifteen, it was a constant voice in my head, always telling me that the world is better off without me, that I’m not a real hero, because I couldn’t save Cyrus. That my existence… It's done nothing but cause problems and make people worry about me needlessly, and the only reason why they do, is because I can’t do anything right. Because the truth is, I’m not a monument, I’m a burden.” She’s deep inside her own head, it’s like she’s drowning when she speaks, only managing to keep her head above the water for every well thought out sentence, and she doesn’t even take a breath after she’s done, “That’s what the voice says, at least.”

He’d read about the big take down between her, Cynthia and Cyrus in the Distortion World. Cyrus was Cyllene’s descendant, it was sort of funny, how the tables turned. And yet even so, history would still repeat itself. 

“This voice, do you feel like you know why it’s come back in your life now?” He’d read her file, so he knew of how much Cyrus had affected her, and the following events that spiraled after. 

The media had penned her a classless teenage diva who liked to brawl with the paparazzi, and she’d been admitted to rehab after falling hard and headfirst into a gambling addiction. It dawned on him how good she was at lying to the world. She did not come with a pretty past. 

“There's been some backlash about my documentary that just came out...” She let out a heavy sigh, “and normally, I can take criticism, but it came from Cyrus’s mother, who is suffering from dementia in a nursing home right now because of me, and she says that I took away her only son. That her son is dead because of me. That I brought disgrace upon the Akagi family name. The interview she did on me was pretty brutal, and I know, I’ve been told it’s not really my fault but… I just keep thinking if it was my own mom, I’d never want to devastate her like that. And yet I did that to someone else’s mother, because I never thought of Cyrus as someone who had a family, a mom who was worried sick about him. I forgot that he was a human, just like me.”

He listened intently, while jotting down notes. On his notepad were the words: guilt ridden, unresolved emotions, possible unresolved trauma…

“I’ve also been having relationship problems with my ex of all people, and old memories I didn’t even know I had are coming back up again… just a lot of bad things happening to me at the same time.”

… and finally, he wrote down in a big circle and underlined: Recalling old memories? From 1870 Hisui? Circle back with patient later.

“Maybe hearing all of this from Cyrus’s mother has triggered feelings from your fifteen year old self. It happens.” He clicked his pen, and crossed his legs, “Have you considered the possibility that Cyrus’s mother is just using your name as a scapegoat from holding her son accountable for his actions? That she’s not coming from the right place blaming you, but rather, you’re just the easiest thing for her to be angry at?”

He could see from across the room, her eyes relaxing reluctantly, as if she could consider what he said, but that it was too… easy to accept.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s just angry at me for no reason?” Hikari says, as if finding his response preposterous, “I gave that woman dementia and her husband left her to rot in a nursing home. Certainly her hatred towards me isn't completely unfounded.”

“If I’m being honest, Hikari, Cyrus sounds like a man whose problems started with his parents. But to be quite frank, I’m not interested in dissecting his past, or psychoanalyzing his parents, because he’s not my patient, you are. You’re here, and you matter. And I’m here to tell you that you did not give his mother dementia.” He says with a swift sharpness that leaves no room for interruption, “Unfortunate events unfolded because of HIS actions, you were just the one to shed light on them. And who knows what kind of world we’d live in if he were the one who won? His mothers blissful ignorance would’ve come to an end either way.”

He kicked himself for saying so. His words rang true, and yet, why did he feel as if he was lying through his teeth? Did he identify with Cyrus? Or did it make him feel uneasy to validate the woman whose life was so obviously charmed yet again by Arceus– was it a brewing bitterness inside his stomach, he wondered.

“I suppose you’re right.” She said, letting go of the reluctance in her voice.

That was enough to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. 

“We can’t control how people handle the truth… but I gotta say, it’s a fucking bitch.” She laughs, but it’s out of misery, like it would make more sense for her to cry instead. 

“It’s not unreasonable to feel the way you’re feeling, when you’re being blamed for unveiling the nasty truth about a person everyone loved.” He says, because he knows better than to hate her, “And I get the feeling that you’re the kind of person who doesn’t let someone’s true colors stay in hiding for too long. Don’t be ashamed of that, so many people wish they had your courage.”

“You know… back when Team Galactic was a thing, I used to get so angry that more people weren’t trying to do something about them. I’d ask myself, why are people just sitting around, letting these people steal people’s Pokemon, deface historical statues, and blow up lakes?” Hikari speaks with a crack in her voice, “No one ever told me how hard it would actually be to play a hero. That's why there’s so little of us. I don’t regret it, but the world lit me on fire for exposing Sinnoh’s cherished architect, when they were the ones begging for someone else to save them from Team Galactic. I did what was asked, and all I have to show for it is my chronic depression, a long list of rehab records, and a half assed apology from the rest of the world.”

“The real burden was never you, Hikari. But rather, the greatness you’ve had to carry” He says kind, but firm, and he’d pause before speaking again, “They never tell us what goes on behind the scenes of a coveted celebrity, or a treasured hero, they only share the glory. But that’s a good thing, you see, because when people are faced with the reality of it all, they’re forced to assess if who they are is in line with what they want. And for the most part, even if they want the glory, they’re just not cut out for it, they don’t have the character, the discipline.”

“Are you saying that I should consider myself lucky that Arceus picked me for this crazy, messed up gig?” There’s a lightness to her voice, a curve at the corner of her mouth.

And he swallows, forcing a smile. Though she might not have meant it that way, the fact that she felt the need to remind him she was chosen, stung him in the chest.

“I’m saying that I honestly don’t think you’d give up all of this just to be like everyone else.” He wants to call her out on the privilege she holds, for not knowing how good she truly has it, “Can you honestly say that you yearn for a normal life? That none of it feels right for you, even through the pain? That you weren’t meant to be who you are, doing what you do for people right now?”

“...I wouldn’t.” She says, observing her wrists, decadent with pristine jewels. It was almost like she actually gave his question some thought. 

And if she truly did, then he could bite his tongue around her, because he couldn’t let his perception of her give him away all too soon. 

“Good.” He says, with a hint of approval in his voice, “Because I’d hate to think that the people in this world that become great, aren’t worthy of it.”

“So, are you saying that I am worthy, then?” Hikari’s eyes sharpened playfully at him.

And from this angle, the cat-like smile she gave him, he could see the woman that she is, she was no longer a child, no longer the empty headed amnesiac who showed no expression, no. Now, she’d become something more… striking. 

Something that he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“I think…” He swallows, knowing to choose his words carefully, “That you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who would need my validation.”

“Why thank you, Dr. Miyashita.” She takes it as a compliment, as he hoped she would.

He can see that she looks to him with a newfound admiration and liking to him in her eyes, and there’s a part of him that finds humor in the fact that he was helping Akari yet again. So, he smiles, putting his faith in Arceus once more.

“Please, call me Volo.”

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Cynthia Hammond (an OC) X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute, and Mildly Fluffy Prompt [Sneak-Peek]

• There will be more!

• Cynthia’s face-claim is Emma Stone as her role(s) in Kinds of Kindness

• Sneak-peek consists of the first part of this prompt/instalment, but the entire version will be posted on Wednesday

• This is a largely WIP idea so I apologise if it’s not immensely clear at this stage

!TW: Implied suffering from PTSD/Trauma, mention of previously facing sexual assault/rape, implied suffering from anxiety + separation anxiety + depression, hints of self put-down(s) + self doubt, implied mention of previously being manipulated/abused, dystopian atmosphere (WIP) - if I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

You remembered the day you stepped off of the train, the sign stood a few paces away from you reading a ‘welcome’ in massive letters before being followed by the words: ‘to Holmsborough’ in a slightly smaller font. You remembered the smell of grass; the occasional bark from a distant dog, before you warily continued walking down the pathway whilst the train slowly began to descend away from you to wherever it was next headed, somewhere you’d most likely never be able to see, now that you were here for your new makeshift psychiatric treatment.

You’d been told you should come here and give it a try by your doctor, the other methods he’d been assigning you not working as well as he’d planned them to, the day you’d first been assigned him following your recent facing of sexual harassment by a friend, back in your hometown. You hadn’t been sure what to do, so of course you said ‘yes’, stuffing your hands deep into your pockets whilst you walked and walked down to the town that was due to become your new home. You tried not to think it was weird; eerie, until you reached the medical centre itself, except it looked more like a retreat, the walls brightly painted an interesting shade of yellow, whilst the sign outside consisted of bright rainbow lettering - it was all just-.. odd, but you were used to it, now, sitting on the opposite side of Cynthia whilst you both were awkwardly sitting together at the same booth, sheltered by the café’s roof above you.

“Where’d the flowers come from, then?” You inquired, your voice close to a whisper whilst you wrapped your hands around your mug of coffee, evidently nervous; you still weren’t used to being this close to people again after what had happened to you recently.

“Oh, these,” she began timidly, before taking an awkward sip of her own beverage, “they, erm-.. well, they’re for you.”

You faltered; tensed up opposite her whilst your eyes locked with her own for a moment, your heart seeming to skip a beat as you wondered why she’d bring you flowers like that, especially such nice ones; beautiful yellow roses that you could smell across the table whilst she handled them with cautious care, her eyes locking with your’s as if she were trying to hide that she was scared of something; doing, or saying something wrong around you, though you couldn’t imagine why she’d react in such a way to your presence when you both had only known each other for a little while, now - it wasn’t exactly as if you both were friends, not at all, but you certainly felt safe enough to hang around each other the way that you were, now.

“M-Mine? I’m sorry, did - did you really just say that they’re mine, or-?” You stammered a little, speaking too fast, and she would hesitate, gulping again, before she nodded, and managed a faint smile over at you.

“I just wanted to get you something, for all you’ve done for me recently,” she clarified, and you would raise your eyebrows; this was something incredibly unusual for Cynthia, you determined, unless she wanted something from someone. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s true,” she insisted, before you sighed heavily, and got straight to the point.

“What is it that you need me to do, now?” You questioned, and she would falter, a pained expression on her face, before she hastily bowed her head; she didn’t know why it had seemed to hurt her to hear you jump to such an assumption, even though there was something she did want from you; no-one’s opinion had ever mattered as much to her as your’s seemed to, ever since she first met you that day you’d first arrived here, and seemed to capture her attention in an instant the second you walked through the institution (the retreat’s) doors.

“Please be my date for my family’s homecoming party,” she mustered, her voice sounding a little exasperated, “I usually go alone to these kinds of things, but-..” She sighed heavily, before glancing up at you again whilst you listened to her intently, not wanting to interrupt her no matter how worried you were that someone might find out about you both being together without the leadership’s consent, if ever you did decide to pretend to be something more to her in front of her family the way she was asking you to for her upcoming personal event beyond the retreat’s walls. She lowered her voice, her eyes briefly flickering toward the other poor souls who had been convinced to come here; it wasn’t exactly an appropriate topic to discuss here; the leadership condemned feelings ever being associated with relationships, unless such feelings were more friendly than lustful. “People have started whispering behind my back,” she admitted dejectedly, and you would frown; you knew how that felt too well; to be the black sheep of your own family, and you had to fight back a sigh as you nodded gravely, and smiled reassuringly over at her to encourage her to continue, somehow, with her request, “about how they feel bad for me, y’know, b-being-.. alone, especially after what happened between me and my ex, Jack.”

You couldn’t help, but scowl in response to her mentioning of him; you’d heard about many of the things he’d done to her, and it physically made you ache as well as burn inside to know that she’d been hurt by him the way she had, before she’d come here, herself, a few months ago, now.

“Isn’t being alone a good thing?” You mused, the disdain you were still holding clear in your voice, and she would frown, before shrugging, and bowing her head again whilst she tried to act as if she were admiring the flowers, when really she was trying not to cry in front of you, not wanting you to think her weak, or hysterical as a result of what he’d done to her, when those were things you could never think about her; you saw her as stronger than you ever could be; the most confident, and beautiful woman you’d ever met since your coming here, and the thought would prompt you to falter. Did you just refer to her as being beautiful? You drew in a barely audible sharp breath, gritting your teeth subconsciously whilst you fidgeted with your fingers beneath the table - if the leadership were able to read your thoughts, you’d probably be dead right now, for having such a thought about her.

“Some might see it that way, I suppose, but-.. me,” she continued slowly, biting down upon her tongue whilst her voice threatened to tremble without her consent, “I prefer - having someone, I guess, to cling to, during occasions like those - I never thought I’d lose Jack like that, but I just seemed to not mean enough to him to be anything, but his play-toy, b-but - you, you could be-”

“Stop,” you interjected hastily, your own voice briefly trembling now whilst your heart began to race, “Cynth, I - I can’t; we can’t, the leadership; the rules - if we were found out-”

“We won’t be,” she interrupted gently, her voice seeming to soothe you more than you thought possible, and you couldn’t help, but glance down at your hands as soon as you felt her hold then within her own, “they won’t know, I promise, besides - it’s not like we really mean anything to each other, do we?”

You would falter, a pained expression on your face, before you glanced up at her, and wondered why your chest was aching again.

“You’re right,” you murmured, “we - we don’t.” She smiled sadly over at you, before she glanced down at her beverage again, and her eyes seemed to darken a little alongside your own; you never thought anything could hurt as much as this did, as she withdrew her hands from your’s, without you even knowing why the ache was there, and more prominent than any feeling ever had been before, but you guessed you’d just have to get over it, somehow, as you distracted yourself with your coffee again, goosebumps still running along your arms from after she’d held your hands within her own soft and warm ones, prompting your heart to skip a beat again at the reminder of such a feeling as that moment had been. You couldn’t help, but smile softly, telling yourself that it was just the coffee you were now holding again; it was extra sweet today, and the milk wasn’t making you feel quite as ill as it usually did on other days, before you’d both begun to meet here together, as unlikely ‘not-so-friends’, like the leadership would call such a relationship, before they give out consent to those whose feelings are only the type to be felt by friends in a restrictive as well as apparently ‘helpful’ society to those mentally burdened by events like that experienced by you and Cynthia not too long ago, now. Of course they catered to other types of trauma, but trauma linked to sexual harassment seemed to be their specialty, here. “So,” you began again, forcing a smile over at her, “where’s the function going to be, then?”

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it, and are looking forward to the full instalment’s dropping on Wednesday as much as I am! ❤️

[cheemken]

Another thing about the movies, each main character saw the number 180 before the accident happened and killed them all. Like Flight 180, hearing the number 180 on the radio, and race car 180 for examples

So if we’re going with Diantha seeing everyone’s death in a dream, imagine the thing that convinced her the dream was real was some kind of number or symbol she saw before the ambush happened

Also yeah, imagine the ABSOLUTE guilt Lance, Iris, Cynthia, and Leon (I forgot Hop existed for a minute lmao) felt for choosing to save their family over the other people in their regions. They chose to betray their job as Champions for their family. Perhaps the reason they chose to save their family and not let them die is cause they hoped they’d be able to escape capture?

But back to Diantha, imagine her trying to find a way to get all the Champions to come to Kalos so they’d be safer in numbers. But people like Iris and Wallace can’t because they’re guarding items that Team Rainbow Rocket would want for themselves

Unless of course Diantha just straight up tells all the Champions about what she saw. Calls an emergency meeting in Kalos and pretty much starts with

“So this might be a shock for all of you, but we’re all going to die within the next few days”

“…Diantha what the fuck”

Can you imagine how that mustve been for Dia tho😭😭

Homegirl wakes up in cold sweat, screaming, crying, almost threw up. Augustine ran to her room asking her what's wrong, worried as fuck, then she pulls him close, hugging him, terrified he'd suddenly disappear, her hands were trembling as she's going on how she'll make sure nothing happens to him and to everyone. Like, mfer is so confused but he's like really trying to calm her down. Imagine how paranoid she'd be, always having one of her mons (yes ofc its Gengar bc I still love this hc) watch over Augustine in Lumiose, making sure Lysandre doesn't get near him, and even spy on Lysandre. Then when she gets to the League she even tries to confront Malva abt it, and ofc that kinda shocked everyone and even Malva bc holy shit they haven't seen Diantha this pissed and terrified. Like, her hands are legit shaking, grabbing Malva by her shoulders, glaring at her, it got to the point Diantha ended up calling her Tyrantrum, the imposing dragon fossil glaring down at everyone. Malva eventually fesses up, she knows damn well Diantha's too pissed to mess w, and despite her always wanting to spite Diantha, she knows if she did rn she'll be the one dying bc she knows the lengths Diantha will go through to make things right.

And god just chdmdb Diantha explaining to them what her dream was, that she was so goddamn sure it was a premonition, and the others were sceptical at first but then again, she managed to find out abt Malva being part of Flare bc of that dream, even told them of Lysandre's plans and him being the head of Flare, and Diantha's starting to spiral again Drasna had to calm her down.

Then ofc, Dia calls in the other Champions, said it was an emergency, and y'know, they came as soon as the call ended bc Dia honestly sounded like she's abt to experience her fifth meltdown for the day and it's only 10 in the am, tbf she is on her fourth meltdown for the day—

When the others got there, Diantha is trying so so hard to calm herself bc Jesus Christ homegirl did not eat anything today bc she was hurrying to the league in a panic and that dream still continues to haunt her, so yeah she's like, at her limit

So she's there, taking deep breaths, and then looks at the other Champions, telling her of the dream, of the premonition she had. And ofc some of them couldn't believe her, especially w how detailed she is abt their deaths and the events that's gonna happen, but like, y'know, even Leon himself said that Rose really acting suspicious lately, even more so than usual, he's been more demanding, more isolated, as if he's planning smth. And ofc, that kinda surprised the other Champions too bc Leon and Diantha don't even get along well, they don't even agree on almost everything, but w Leon showing that he actually believes in what Diantha is saying is enough for the other sceptics to actually believe her, and they should start planning on what to do now bc if not then they're all gonna die

[razieltwelve]

Partner (Final Rose x Pokemon)

Note: In the Final Rose x Pokemon AU, Cynthia x Averia is a thing. Phoebe is their first kid.

X X X

Averia loved all of her children, and she wanted the absolute best for them in life. That was why she'd spoken to her mother about getting an egg for Phoebe. It had become clear very early on that Phoebe wanted to become a trainer just like Averia and Cynthia.

She could already imagine the pressure that Phoebe would be under once she began her journey. Averia came from a family of World Champions, and Cynthia probably would have become one too if Averia and Diana hadn't split the position between themselves for so long.

In short, Phoebe had pedigree.

And Averia was going to make sure that she got a starter who could match that pedigree.

Averia had gotten Torrent when she was six years old, and Diana had gotten Inferno at the same age. It was customary amongst the Yun Clan, and Cynthia had agreed that it would be good for Phoebe to get her starter early too. If nothing else, it would reduce the pressure on her a bit when she finally began her journey.

And so Averi had asked for the egg.

It was a Riolu egg, and it's lineage was one many trainers, even Regional Champions, would kill for.

The mother was a Lucario... who was the daughter of Lightning's Lucario. And Lightning's Lucario was the Lucario, the starter and ace of the greatest World Champion in history, a Pokemon who had never once been defeated when holding the anchor position. His daughter had not accomplished those heady highs... but Lightning had trained her too, and she had proven to be almost as accomplished as her legendary father.

And the egg's father?

That was Cynthia's own Lucario, one of the strongest Pokemon in the world.

It honestly wasn't fair. But Averia didn't care. Phoebe was her daughter. She wouldn't fight her battles for her, but she would absolutely make sure that she was as well-armed as possible. Besides, they wouldn't be giving Phoebe the rest of her team. Like Averia, Diana, and Cynthia, she would be gathering the rest herself.

Averia very much looked forward to seeing what her daughter would come up with.

X X X

Years later...

"Mother!" Phoebe wailed, clutching at Averia's leg. "You have to help me plan!"

Averia raised one eyebrow. "You want me to help you develop a plan to beat your mom?"

Phoebe nodded. "Yes." Beside her, her Lucario nodded too. "I'm your daughter, you have to help me!"

"Your mom is my wife. Maybe I should help her instead."

"But mom is already a Regional Champion! I'm just a tournament winner. I need your help more!"

Averia tried not to laugh. Phoebe had more than met everybody's expectations by beating all the gyms in their region in a year and then winning the tournament. She had then accepted the traditional Champion vs Tournament Winner match... thereby pitting her against Cynthia.

Cynthia had certainly found it amusing. She had secretly confided to Averia afterward, that she'd almost burst out laughing when Phoebe finally realised that, yes, she would have to fight her in a match that would be televised across the entire world.

"Phoebe, you're my daughter, and I love you very much." Averia patted her daughter on the head. "But I'm not going to help you."

"But... but...!"

"I remember when I won the tournament for Oerba. As the tournament winner, I too accepted the challenge to face the Regional Champion." Averia shuddered at the memory. "I was actually stupid enough to think I might be able to challenge my mother."

Phoebe blinked. "Wow. You actually thought you could beat Grandma Lightning?"

Averia sighed. "Yes. Like I said, I was stupid. I begged your Grandma Fang for help. After all, the closest anybody ever got to beating your Grandma Lightning was when she faced your Grandma Fang."

"Bahamut is a beast!" Phoebe said.

"Indeed. Instead, your Grandma Fang told me to do my best and that miracles can happen when you work hard and believe."

"There wasn't a miracle, was there?" Phoebe asked.

"Oh no. Your Grandma Lightning obliterated me. She sent her Lucario out and swept my team." Averia's eye twitched in aggravation. "And afterward, she patted me on the head and complimented me for lasting as long as I did. The worst bit was that she was being honest. Sure, I got swept, but I lasted longer than the last four tournament winners combined."

"..." Phoebe shuddered. "Mom is going to kick my ass, isn't she?"

"Almost certainly."

X X X

Author's Notes

Cynthia... terrorising her own children, and you can bet that she'll have Averia playing the piano for the theme too.

In all seriousness, Phoebe was absolutely under a lot of pressure right from the start due to who her parents were. Cynthia was still the Regional Champion, and Averia was head of the Pokemon Academy in Sinnoh.

Everybody was taking bets on whether or not she'd live up the family reputation (both sides). The fact that she did says it all. Alas, her run of victories came to an end when Cynthia kicked her ass. That said, Phoebe does eventually become the World Champion.

Funnily enough, her team ends up resembling Lightning's more than Diana's or Averia's teams ever do. For instance, Phoebe has a Lucario, and Garchomp, and a Gardevoir, all Pokemon that Lightning famously had on her team. However, she fights more like Cynthia and Averia than like Lightning.

She is exceptional at studying her opponents and their Pokemon to develop plans for battles. However, she is also outstanding at adapting on the fly and learns very quickly. As a trainer, she is renowned for her keen battle sense, which allows her to snowball even the smallest advantage into an insurmountable victory.

During her era, the World Champion position was generally contested between Averia's branch of the family and Diana's. Many people remarked on how nostalgic it was since it reminded them of when Diana and Averia would routinely swap the position between them.

[miazims]

Here is the 10th prompt of @msmiki1218's "31 day sim style challenge" It's preppy and I think Nora looks really cute.

CC links under the cut.

Hair: The Sims Resource - Cynthia Hairstyle

Earrings: M Jewelry VIII (4 type / 12 color) | Rusty's on Patreon

Eyeliner: [poyopoyo] Rose Set | Makeup Set n10 | PoyoPoyo on Patreon

Blush: SIMBLREEN 2021 RELEASES - peachyfaerie | peachyfaerie on Patreon

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - First Kiss Lipstick

Top: Augmented Top | Brianitesims on Patreon

Skirt: Can’t even imagine wearing those in winter | SIMANDY on Patreon

Watch: Esther Watch | MadameRia on Patreon

Bag: ៸៸ apricity ៸៸ | boonstow on Patreon

Socks: The Sims Resource - Lace Socks

Shoes: The Sims Resource - Shoes with square toe and chain

[alullinchaos]

i find the repetition of a script really soothing for some reason? i don't know if it's an anxiety thing (i heard that people w anxiety like familiarity) or an autistic thing (has to do with routines - my bet is on this one) but I've been watching a lot of L.A by Night (Vampire the Masquerade 5th Edition - a TTRPG show) and the way that certain phrases are repeated is so nice to me. like 95% is improv, but certain ideas repeat and it feels like home. "(x character) will join at a dramatically appropriate moment" some variation of "In Los Angeles the sun rose, the humans went about their daily tasks, cooking, cleaning, working, living... but you did not. You only awoke as the sun set" cynthia introducing nelli as a "fabulous toreador" of course shout out to "I'll activate awe," "I'll make a note," jasper playing basketball with people's skulls, alex ward doing that hand motion when he actives unseen presence, b dave doing the mind wipe motion with the two fingers, etc. idk. la by night isn't my favorite actual play series that i've watched and it's the first non-dnd one (I literally got into TTRPGs 3 months ago w d20 and CR) but it's the first one where I've felt really grounded in and... comforted by the story. of course I felt things when watching the unsleeping city (only campaign I've finished- just season 1) but it felt more like a foray into new things whereas watching la by night feels more antique, somehow? despite it being a younger game, it's got an older feel; even though i don't understand the exact stats/mechanics as well as I understand D&D's, i have a much easier time imagining myself GMing it didn't mean to turn this into a commentary on anything (esp. with the d&d drama right now lmao) but... these are my thoughts