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diejager · 1 year

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Run, Rabbit Run! Pt.2

Cw: implied smut, DARK, yandere, murder, blood and gore, Ghostface is a menace, betrayal, canon typical violence. Wc: 1.4k

Note: pt 3??

He loved the look of fear on your face, the dread that sunk into your skin, and the slight shaking in your hand. Your face drained, seeming so frozen that he thought you stopped breathing and died, heart seizing frightfully; but he knew that expression when your brain calculated the risks for fight or flight. On this occasion, it was flight.

You bolted, legs swinging you over a window and through the tall grass (or corn, was it a corn field? It didn't matter to Ghostface). In your instantaneous act of terror, you chose a random direction, unaware that you were leading him to a corner. He followed behind you, neither too close nor too far, just at the right distance to have your heart beat frightfully and not hear his breathing.

He loved it, running after you as he did before, one step behind you and so close to having his hands wrapped around your pretty neck. He wondered if you'd let him in again, to bite your neck and shoulder with red kisses, to take you apart in his arms, and to let him talk to you about the things he did - only this time, he wouldn't shy from sharing the gruesome stories he painted for the world to see.

He turned sharply at the corner, determined to cut you off before you left the walls of this weirdly shaped maze. He flashed his knife, the one he intended to gut you with, and jumped at you. You caught the glint of his knife too late, gasping for air when his body tackled you, rolling on the floor. You groaned in pain, cheek laying on the rough, dirt ground of the farm. Ghostface's body was warm and heavy, and strong, he straddled you and cooed.

"Missed ya, doll," he didn't have a distorted voice, he had no use for a voice box in the Entity's world. He couldn't be fought, he couldn't be stopped, and he couldn't be killed. "Didja miss me?"

His voice was familiar, too familiar to be normal. The drawl in his words and the soft, yet raspy tone of it reminded you of home: Pennsylvania. You knew he started there, killing off the people you knew before ultimately choosing you and failing to kill you. It was the cataclysmic event of your life, it festered fear and paranoia of everyone you knew and met.

His gloved - they were also warm - fingers played with your sides, moving upward to knead the flesh of your shoulders and pinch your nape. You flinched at every touch, even the softer, appreciative ones from the killer made you jump. He threaded through your locks, locking with the base of your hair and pulling your head back. You yelped at the harsh motion, feeling your hair being pulled from its seams with the force of his grip.

"I asked you a question, (Name)," he hissed in your ear, his mask kissing your cheek. "It's impolite to ignore your boyfriend."

You gasped, his use of words sent chills down your arched back. It couldn't be, could it? The thought of Ghostface and Jed being the same person made your heart drop. Tears blurred your sight, threatening to spill the second you connected the dots he placed for you.

Jed was a tease, but he was loving and caring, he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his world. Although he found interest in the murders since the start of your move, his words made the twisted truth into a dark fantasy that people got hooked on. That never stopped him from loving you, spending the night in your bed, comforting you when your paranoia and nightmares hit you so strongly that you crashed. He was the light in your life, a pillar of reassurance and comfort.

Unlike the reaper, renamed Ghostface by Jed, was a cold, calculated killer that found pleasure in blood. He murdered as he loved, mixing both in a perverted need. He stabbed with passion, he killed with devotion, and he drew stories up with fascination. Ghostface was the killer you ran from, he was your demon as you were his obsession.

"N-no- no-," you cried, nails digging into the ground. You felt frustrated, angry, and betrayed. Were you being lied to by the killer or was he telling the truth? You wanted to ignore him, block out his familiar voice and the words he kept singing to you. "You're not-"

"Not Jed, hmm?" you could hear the mocking pitch in his voice, his head tilted forward, letting his nose touch your cheek. "That's mean, doll. I thought we had something going on. Really, I really thought we had something, didn't you?"

"Shut up!"

Your enraged outburst earned a scoff from him, he crawled off your body and moved you to face him just as you were planning on pushing off the ground and running. He cocked his head left, straddling you once more with his hand mockingly waving his knife. The threat hung on a thin string, and Ghostface had an unpredictable pattern of instantaneous and planning acts. If he wished to gut you where you laid, he would, but if he wanted to watch you run, he'd let you go with a cackle echoing in the eternal sunset.

You wished you could move, hit him, dig your fingers into his clothes until you got to his skin and claw him bloody, you wanted to hurt him as he hurt you, but your hands were pinned beneath his knees.

"What? Can't run now, can ya?" he chuckled, voice light with perverted mirth. "You had me running all 'round since Pennsylvania. Home's real far now, isn't it?"

Your teary eyes glared at him, lips pulled in a toothy sneer, you hated him. (Did you really hate him? He was Jed, wasn't he? If his words were truthful then you felt torn in two.) Dirt smeared your face and your hair formed a messy halo around your head like the angel Ghostface spent years hunting.

His thumb brushed the smudged brown on the apple of your cheek, but you turned to bite him, teeth clicking when they didn't bite any skin. He clicked his tongue, quickly taking his hand away from your volatile mouth. He knew you were a biter, he remembered you biting into his shoulder when he got rough, begging for him to bite back. You were a little minx when you were comfortable.

Though you were adorable, denial wasn't something he appreciated from you, that glint of doubt in your eyes almost felt insulting. You were so attentive, eyes following his every movement, he liked the attention. You followed his hand, reaching for his mask, eyes widening when he tilted the ghostly face up and peered down at you with hazel hues.

You gaped like a fish out of water, shocked into silence. New tears brimmed the corners of your eyes, rolling down your temple in quiet submission. Your breath stuck in your throat, body trembling beneath him.

"Da-Danny?" you whispered, voice so quiet he almost missed your words. God, he loved the stutter in your words, a nervous little wreck he mended as Jed.

"Good eyes, but look closer, babe. I know you can do it," he lowered his head, breath mixing with your panicked ones. Panic looked good on you as fear and dread did, he wanted to eat you alive. "C'mon, (Name)."

"You-you're Jed too?"

He rolled his head back, chuckling at your meekness, you made yourself smaller, wanting to hide from him. The bubbly personality he grew up knowing turned into an introverted and paranoid survivor. He was drunk on the knowledge of the change he brought, changing you into the person you were, he broke your cocoon and clipped your beautiful wings. He wanted you to himself before, and now still.

"Bing! Bing! Congrats, babe! I knew you were smart, " he chuckled, fingers digging into your neck. He watched you gasp for air, struggling to free yourself from his hold. "Oh, don't worry, we'll see each other again."

He raised his knife over his head, the sharp edge gleaming gold with the setting sun. A crazed glint crossed his eyes, flashing darkly in his beautiful face (you always found Danny pretty, the dark-haired introvert was handsome, and Jed's hazel eyes reminded you of Danny. Your liking of Jed probably stemmed from your little crush on the dark boy from your neighborhood) when he finally swung his trusty weapon.

"We'll have eternity together, doll."

#ghostface x reader #ghostface dbd #danny johnson #dbd ghostface #dead by daylight #ghostface #ghostface x male reader #ghostface x female reader #dbd killer #dbd fanfic #dbd x reader #dbd x male reader #Dbd x female reader #x reader #yandere #yandere ghostface #yandere dbd #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight ghostface

493 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

The top of your blog says you're still taking requests,no pressure though of course: Eddie lives through the events of s4 and heals in the hospital, his name is cleared, Eddie spends his time with his uncle and his friends, plays games. He notices that Steve sort of remains on the back burner, shows up to little gatherings but keeps himself at a distance, busies himself with small tasks. Keeps the focus on Eddie, and is content to sort of stare at everyone, and not join in. Eddie gets worried and asks Robin whats up with Steve, why does he keep just standing in the corner or the kitchen smiling instead of joining in, I think he's bumming the kids out, Robin. And she has to calmly, and frightfully, remind him that Steve died over spring break. What are you talking about he's right there! I'd love a Ghost Steve who doesn't want to move on, wants to stay with his family. Doesn't want to be alone. Eddie is the only one who can see him at first(?)

OKAY SO THIS WAS SAD AS SHIT AND I LOVE THIS PREMISE. I especially love it because I have read A LOT of ghost Eddie fics, some where he was actually dead and some where it was a weird Upside Down thing and he was alive. I'm a big believer in happy endings so I went full speed ahead with the latter option for Steve. But since you requested ghost Steve not wanting to move on, I had to switch it up a bit to where Eddie couldn't just let it go. Still plenty of sad, but I had to make it hopeful and happy at the end because I am me. - Mickala ❤️

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While Eddie was in the hospital, it felt like he was in a bubble. His uncle was the only one allowed to visit for the first week, and then the kids were able to come by when his name was cleared.

They weren’t themselves, a cloud of sadness around them, but that was to be expected with everything that had happened.

Dustin, especially, clung to him more than he expected.

He figured it would be rough, he did almost die, after all, but this was on another level.

Dustin was with him every day for hours, sometimes had to be dragged out by his mom who understood, but only in the way a person who doesn’t know about the Upside Down could.

Robin came by sometimes, a haunted look on her face, none of her usual energy anywhere to be seen.

He managed to get her to crack a small smile twice.

When he left the hospital, things somehow felt worse.

The government had provided him and Wayne a new trailer, nowhere near the trailer park, even managed to get Wayne a new truck since Eddie’s van had been destroyed and Wayne’s truck was on its last leg for the last year.

His name was cleared, but that didn’t mean people changed their mind about him.

He mostly stayed at home, didn’t even attempt to go to the store with Wayne or anywhere but Dustin’s house or the Byers’.

The kids started begging for normalcy in whatever ways they could: meeting up for movie night, bringing Hellfire back, dinner at the Byers’ house.

Eddie was on board with it, wanted to put everything in the past just as much as they did.

He went to movie night, at Robin’s house while her parents were out of town instead of at Steve’s.

Steve, who hadn’t visited him once while he was in the hospital, hadn’t made it to any hangouts with the kids, apparently was coping with everything by ignoring everyone.

Eddie would have to do something about it soon because the kids were clearly missing him.

Movie night was okay, but he decided to have the next one at his house.

He told Dustin to let everyone know, didn’t think he had to be specific about everyone.

Steve didn’t show up on time, which was unusual since he was usually Dustin and Lucas’ ride. They rode with Nancy and Mike.

Everyone settled in, Eddie started the movie and passed out popcorn, waved goodbye to Wayne on his way out the door to his night shift.

Everything felt okay, but without Steve, it didn’t feel right.

Eddie could admit to himself he had a crush on him. He had one on him in high school, but that was easy to ignore when he was an asshole.

Now, he knew Steve was a good guy, protected these kids and Robin and Nancy with his life and didn’t hesitate even when he should.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore, he realized that while he was in the hospital. It was full blown feelings. Love.

Eddie sat in Wayne’s recliner in the corner, keeping an eye on everyone through the movie. He glanced over to the kitchen and saw movement, but didn’t think anything of it.

They paused the movie halfway through for bathroom breaks and refills on snacks and drinks, and Eddie followed all the kids into the kitchen to get his own beer.

He was startled when he turned the corner and saw Steve smiling at him from the corner.

He didn’t want to say anything, figured the kids had already said hello and he was just letting them get their stuff first.

But it was kind of weird that he’d come in the backdoor of a trailer he’d never visited when he easily could have come in the front door. Eddie watched as Steve leaned against the wall of the kitchen, watching everyone move around without saying anything.

It was weird, especially because the smile seemed to transform from a genuine one to a sad one quickly.

He didn’t want to draw attention to it, didn’t know how much Steve let the kids see usually, so he turned to grab his own snack from the counter.

Robin was standing there, staring at him, eyebrows pinched together.

“What were you looking at?”

“Uh,” Eddie glanced back over and saw Steve frowning now. “Steve? Looking like a kicked puppy in the corner?”

Robin’s face went from confused to worried in a millisecond.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Steve.” Eddie gestured towards where Steve was still standing, but now he looked panicked, like he wanted to interrupt. “Please feel free to make me not look insane, Steve.”

Robin glanced over to the corner, then back at Eddie, tears in her eyes.

“Eddie,” she said, voice sad, like she was about to break the worst news in the world to him. Then, she did. “Steve died. Remember? We had to leave him.”

That can’t be right. He could’ve sworn Steve was there when he was being pushed through the gate, when he gained just enough consciousness to look around and take inventory of the people around him. Steve was there.

“When did he die? He was at the…with the bats…he was at the trailer…right?”

Eddie looked back in the corner and saw Steve looking down at the floor.

And then Robin was pulling him into a hug.

“Nobody told you. They were supposed to tell you. And we-” she let out a sob. “We just haven’t talked about it. It’s hard to. Last time we tried, Dustin had to be given anxiety meds. I’m sorry, Eddie. He’s gone.”

She was crying through the explanation, almost too much for him to understand what she was saying.

But he watched as Steve wiped at his eyes in the corner.

Like he was crying. Like he was there.

He knew Robin wasn’t lying, she would never lie about something like this, and it would explain a lot of the behavior of everyone and Steve’s absence up until this point.

“Robbie, I-” Eddie didn’t know if it would help or hurt her to know he could see Steve right now. He made a decision based on the way Steve was watching them now, his eyes wide and sad, like he would be crying if he could. “I can see him right now.”

Robin pulled away, looked at him, then over at the corner.

“Right now? He’s there right now?”

Eddie nodded.

“Can you hear him say anything?”

“No, he hasn’t said anything. I don’t think he can.”

Steve was still just staring at them, and Eddie knew he was stuck.

If he was truly dead, he wasn’t moving on the way people do. If he wasn’t dead, then something super weird was happening and he would have to get help from everyone.

But he didn’t want to involve the kids, not for this. Because if Steve was dead, like they thought, and they went through the trouble of trying to find him, they’d be hurting all over again.

But if he wasn’t.

“Robin, were you sure he was dead? No pulse or breathing, no movement?”

Robin’s eyes widened.

“I mean, I guess as sure as we could be with how rushed and emotional we were? Nancy couldn’t find a heartbeat and he wasn’t moving, and we waited as long as we could, but he didn’t wake up. Do you think he isn’t dead?”

Steve was watching them, his fingers tapping against his arms that were crossed over his chest.

“How long can someone survive down there?”

“Eddie, look. I already talked to Hopper about it. He said even if somehow Steve managed to survive his injuries, they were bad enough that he would have probably been found by something and attacked. And even if he survived that, he’s been down there without food and water and clean oxygen for a month. The fact that Will survived a week was a miracle.”

He didn’t push. He could hear it in Robin’s voice that she’d already thought of every possible outcome, probably even tried to plan a rescue mission at some point.

She couldn’t take the disappointment either.

Eddie dropped it for now, but he watched as Steve watched him.

He just had a feeling that this was more complicated than Steve being dead.

—-----------------------

He let himself mourn that night.

While he didn’t feel like Steve was dead, he knew that no matter what, Steve had been missing from all their lives for a month.

He cried for hours, he cried for Steve, for Dustin, for Robin, for Max, for everyone who Steve loved so much that he died for them.

Himself included.

Because that’s what it came down to: Steve died protecting them.

They all took a risk, but Steve paid the price.

It wasn’t fair. The guy who put everyone first was the first one gone.

Eddie finally fell asleep, but it was restless. He kept getting flashes of Steve in his dreams, his face bloody, his body bloody, his screams loud.

Which was weird for a lot of reasons, one of them being that he didn’t know what injuries Steve even had when he died. The ghost he saw in his kitchen earlier had just been Steve, not bloodied or broken or scared.

When he managed to get up, he went through the motions of his day: brush his teeth, shower, eat breakfast, do his stretches, play guitar, eat lunch, clean up, talk to Wayne.

But by dinner, he felt like he had to do something. He had to figure out why he felt this buzzing energy around him.

He waited until Wayne left to get their dinner at the diner and bring it home, then he called Robin.

“Robin, is there a gate open somewhere?”

“Seriously, Eddie.”

“I just need to know! Maybe you’re right, in fact, you probably are. But what if you aren’t? What if he’s stuck down there? What if he’s too hurt to find a way back here?”

Robin was silent, but Eddie didn’t let that deter him.

“I know you guys were pretty sure. And I know you wouldn’t have left if you didn’t believe he was dead. But you said yourself you were emotional and overwhelmed and feeling rushed because of everything happening. It’s not that far of a stretch to believe that he could be alive.”

“Eddie.”

Her voice was broken.

She didn’t want to believe him.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“I know it’s hard. It’ll get easier, I hope. His parents just sold the house, and his car, so. He’s gone. We have to accept that.”

“Okay.”

But it wasn’t okay.

He hung up with Robin, promised he would try to get some sleep, take care of himself. It was a lie.

He ate dinner with Wayne, pretended he was doing alright, pretended he didn’t still hear the echoes of Steve’s screams in his head.

Wayne left early for work, claimed he was picking up some overtime due to them being short staffed still after the quake. He said he wouldn’t be home until nine the next morning.

Eddie nodded and pretended to head to his room for the night.

He did a lot of pretending until he was alone.

Then, he got on the phone with El.

El had gotten attached to him while Max was in a coma, stopping by to talk to him after she’d spent an hour or so with Max. She saw him as a cool older brother, especially when she realized Hopper wasn’t his biggest fan.

“I need to know if there’s a gate open.”

“Eddie, I do not know if I can help with that,” El responded slowly, carefully.

“What if I say it’s for a really good reason?”

“I am sure it is, but I promised Dad I would not open one.”

“But what if there’s one already open?”

“There is not. I would feel it.”

Eddie sighed. He didn’t want to make El break a promise, but this was worth it.

He knew Hopper would forgive her and him if he was right.

“Has Will mentioned feeling anything weird?”

Sometimes Will felt things that even El couldn’t, usually things happening only in the Upside Down. Everyone’s running theory was that it was because of the time he spent down there.

“No, he just feels the usual.”

“What’s the usual?”

“It is just there. Sometimes it is more there than other times.”

“And right now? It isn’t more than other times?”

“I think it is just always more than other times since Vecna.”

Hm. That could be something.

“Why does it feel like more sometimes?”

“It is hard to say. Sometimes it is nothing, sometimes it is because something is moving and trying to get out.”

“Is it always a creature?”

“It always was before.”

“El, I think Steve’s alive.”

There, he said it. He said it to someone who could probably actually help him, who would would help him if she believed him.

“Why do you think that? They said he was not breathing.”

“I know, but, look. Robin even said that they were being rushed and were crying and could have missed something.”

“But it has been a month.”

“I saw him. In the kitchen.” He hated saying this to one of the kids. They all loved Steve so much and if he was wrong, he really didn’t want this to hurt her. “At movie night. He was there, but only I could see him. Robin said maybe it was a ghost, but it seemed too real.”

“It was Steve?”

“Even if he’s de-,” Eddie stopped. “Gone. If his body is where it was left, it should be put to rest here. And if it isn’t, and he’s alive, then we can save him.”

“But we will get caught.”

“Not if we do it tonight. Hopper works nights this week, right?”

“Yes.”

“So he won’t be home to know you’re gone. Will is over at Dustin’s. Jonathan is so high, he won’t notice you’re gone. Joyce will be asleep by ten. You can sneak out.”

“What if you get hurt? I cannot go down there.”

That was a valid concern.

They defeated Vecna, and the Mindflayer hadn’t been a problem since, but that didn’t mean the other creatures weren’t still prowling around down there.

Out of all of them, he had the least experience with them, and she had every right to be worried.

“I can handle it. I’ll bring Steve’s bat.”

—------------------------

He met El in the woods behind the cabin they were staying in. Hopper had redone it, adding two bedrooms and a bathroom so they could all fit more comfortably.

They silently hugged and kept walking further, away from any chance of being seen or heard.

El warned him that opening the gate was risky in other ways too. She had a lot of control over her powers, but sometimes using this much strength would leave her too tired to close it again, and they couldn’t leave a gate open for longer than it took for Eddie to get in, check for Steve, and get out.

They also ran the risk of her using a little too much power and making a gate that was too big for her to close at all.

But these were risks Eddie deemed worth it, and with some convincing, El did too.

They found a small clearing, big enough to make a gate that Eddie could fit through.

He didn’t let himself stop to think about the last time he was being pushed through a gate, how he was bleeding out and barely breathing. He only thought about how Steve was down there, dead or alive, and didn’t deserve to be.

“Are you ready?” El asked him, her hands digging into the earth below her.

“Ready.”

“Two hours. If you are not back in two hours, I call Hopper.”

That was the deal. That was the only way she agreed to do this.

He knew if it came down to him being gone for more than two hours, he’d probably be grateful to see Hopper.

“Got it.”

El nodded and closed her eyes.

The ground started shaking, Eddie held back the panic, and suddenly El was staring up at him, blood dripping from her nose, smiling.

The ground had opened between them, just big enough for Eddie to slip through, small enough for El to cover with sticks and leaves if someone came looking before their time was up.

“You will come back in two hours.”

“Sure thing, supergirl. With Steve, hopefully.”

“With Steve,” she added with a small smile.

Eddie didn’t think anymore.

He dropped himself down, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach when everything turned upside down on him.

He didn’t let himself hesitate, even though he wanted to.

He had a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time, and if Steve was alive, he could be anywhere.

But he walked towards where Robin and Nancy had left him. It would at least confirm if he was dead, his body hopefully would still be there if so.

It was only two miles, but Eddie was never a very fast runner. The first mile went surprisingly well, much faster than he expected to be able to do it. But during mile two, he felt his legs shaking.

He was still technically healing, the physical therapy stretches he did every morning further proof that he still had a long way to go before he was completely recovered.

But he pushed through it, knowing that the way back would be worse and he couldn’t waste time now.

But when he got to the area between the Creel house and the trailer park, he saw no sign of Steve, or anything for that matter.

There weren’t even vines or dead creatures around.

He tried to remain calm.

Steve had been alive when they left him here.

He may not be now, but he had been.

That felt worse.

He pushed that aside and decided to run to the trailer park.

Steve wouldn’t have gone in the direction of the Creel house, and he wouldn’t have wandered aimlessly no matter how much blood he’d lost.

He would have gone to the place he knew they would be in hopes the gate was still open.

The trailer park had always been kind of eerie, even in broad daylight, so the Upside Down version was downright horrific.

Eddie ran directly to his old trailer, hoped that somehow Steve found shelter here.

It looked worse than what he remembered, blood on the floor from when they were half dragging, half carrying him after being a meal for the bats.

The door had been kicked in at some point, and he wasn’t sure how or when that could have happened after they left.

He almost didn’t want to know unless-

He could hear movement in the back bedroom. His bedroom.

It could be anything. Wind blowing through a broken window, a creature he wasn’t entirely prepared to kill, Steve.

God, he hoped it was Steve.

He slowly walked towards the bedroom, his hands shaking where they were holding on tight to the bat.

The door was open a few inches, and he could hear the movement more clearly.

It sounded like someone was in bed, shifting in the sheets.

Holy shit.

He pushed the door open.

Holy shit.

“Steve!”

Eddie dropped the bat and ran to the bed, only stopping himself from jumping onto it when he saw the blood.

There was a lot, though most of it looked old, like maybe Steve had crawled here and then couldn’t quite find his way back out.

Steve was pale. It was dark, and hard to make out a lot of details, but he could see that he was deathly pale.

“Steve?”

“Eddie?”

“Holy shit, Jesus Christ, Steve. Where are you bleeding from?”

“Um, I think my leg? And my stomach.”

His voice was raspy, sort of nasally like he was coming down with a cold. Could you catch a cold from being down here? Probably.

Eddie’s hands hovered over the sheets, ready to move them so he could try to help, when Steve suddenly turned on his side and threw up.

“Shit. Hold on, let me help you sit up.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

Steve was crying, and Eddie didn’t know what to do.

He took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to apologize, Stevie. I’m sorry you’ve been stuck here. Can I check your heartbeat?”

Eddie needed to see if it was ridiculously fast or slow, needed to determine how quickly he had to move them out of here, if he could take a few extra minutes to try to patch him up or if he just had to put him on his back and run.

Steve held his wrist towards him and Eddie quickly found his pulse.

He counted like a kind nurse showed him while he was in the hospital, filed away for future emergencies so he could be useful.

“It’s a little fast, but I think that’s normal for the situation. Let’s get you up and we can go.”

“Go how?”

“You can hop on my back.”

“I-”

“Steve, it’s not up for debate. You’re coming back with me and I don’t care if it means I break my back.”

Steve nodded once, his eyes closing as if he was just too exhausted to fight.

Eddie was sure he was.

Even if he managed to sleep here, it couldn’t have been well. It’s hard to rest when you know scary monsters are just outside the door.

“Tired,” Steve said, almost like he could read Eddie’s mind.

Hell, maybe he could after spending so much time down here.

Something to test later.

He checked his clock. Still had almost an hour and a half to get back to the gate.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink lately?”

“Found some water four days ago I think? Maybe five. Managed to stretch it until yesterday. Food’s been gone for days.”

How was he not passed out?

“How much of this blood is yours?”

“All of it.”

Awesome.

Eddie felt his forehead. He had a fever.

Even more awesome.

He probably had infections, which can be treated if you get them taken care of quickly, but he could have had them for weeks by now.

Cool.

“Alright, on three, wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. I’m gonna lift, and I just need you to try to keep leaning forward while I get you on my back.”

“Mkay.”

“And you cannot close your eyes. You hear me, Steve?”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Sweetheart, I need you to talk to me.”

“Mhm. Eyes stay open.”

“And mouth keeps moving. Alright,” Eddie helped him out a bit by placing his arms around his neck. “One…two…three.”

He lifted, and huffed out a sharp breath when his ribs started aching almost immediately.

“Okay?” Steve whispered against his neck.

“I’m okay. You?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie let himself take one calming breath, just enough to get himself back on track. “Talk to me.”

“Hurts.”

“I know, love, but I need to know you haven’t passed out,” Eddie said sympathetically.

“Wanna hold your hand.”

God, okay. He could handle that.

He could.

“Okay, one hand for a minute. I need them both to hold you up though.”

He moved one hand up to his chest, where Steve’s hands were sort of dangling. He let his thumb run along the side of Steve’s hands, then Steve grabbed it and squeezed, surprising strength behind it.

“Is Dustin okay?”

Jesus Christ, this guy was half dead and still asking if others were okay.

“Yeah, he’s doing okay. Misses you, though.”

“Miss him.”

“Max is gonna be mad you came back from the dead in a more impressive way than her.”

“She can win.”

Eddie let out a laugh and tugged his hand back to adjust Steve on his back.

They had barely made it out of the trailer park and Eddie’s legs were shaking. He could do it though, he had no choice.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“A month.”

“Robin?”

“She’s hurting. She thought I was crazy. Didn’t wanna come because she didn’t wanna see you like she left you.”

“Not dead though.”

“Nope, not unless dead people can talk down here.”

Steve’s breath was hot against his neck, tickling him and sending chills down his back.

“You?”

“What about me?”

“Hurt?”

Steve’s voice was getting more strained, like he was doing his best to still talk but it was causing a lot of pain for him to do so.

“I was really hurt, yeah.”

“Still?”

“Not as much. Just a little.”

“Love me?”

Eddie knew he was losing it. The pain, the dehydration and hunger, the deliriousness. Steve didn’t have a clue what he was saying.

“What?”

“You love me?”

“Um.”

Steve squeezed his legs around Eddie’s hips.

“Came back. Love me.”

When it was put like that, yeah, Eddie guessed it seemed kind of obvious.

“Just a little.”

He could sense the eyeroll Steve wanted to give, but didn’t quite have the energy.

“I saw you. In my kitchen. Were you there?”

“Dunno.”

“Did you dream about it?”

“Just you. Kids. Robin. Missed you.”

“We all missed you.”

Eddie was making more progress, his determination to get Steve medical attention far outweighing any weakness or pain he was feeling.

“Ow.”

“What hurts, sweetheart?”

“Stomach.”

“Bites?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie could feel where the blood was soaking through his shirt, but he knew it wasn’t so much that he couldn’t at least make it through the gate before bandaging it up. He’d made it this long with them out, another 30 minutes wouldn’t kill him.

Hopefully.

Steve was quiet again, but he was breathing against Eddie’s neck steadily, so he didn’t push.

“Man, you won’t believe the place they gave me and Wayne. It’s got two bedrooms. And we have a whole kitchen instead of just a small counter area with a stove and fridge. Maybe you can cook us dinner when you’re better, you know, as a thanks for rescuing you.”

“Not a good cook.”

“I don’t believe that. Robin said you made her chicken parmesan from scratch for her birthday.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so chicken parmesan, my kitchen, soon.”

“Soon.”

They were close, creeping into the edge of the woods, and Eddie was trying not to panic at Steve’s silence.

“Stevie, just a few more minutes. Tell me about the first thing you wanna do when you’re back.”

“Mmm.” Steve’s head rolled back and forth like he was trying to focus. “Kiss you.”

“That can be arranged. What else?”

“Hug Dustin. Love him.”

“Yeah, he could use that.”

“Hug Robin. Love her.”

“She could use that, too.”

“Hug you, love you.”

He wouldn’t hold Steve to this, he wouldn’t. But it would hurt so much when Steve forgot about this whole conversation.

He bit his lip and nodded.

“Yeah, I could use that.”

Steve’s lips were pressed against his neck, most likely accidental, but Eddie let himself pretend for a moment it was a kiss.

When he reached the gate, he whistled to get El’s attention.

“Oh! Eddie, is that…”

“He’s alive. Really hurt and needs water and food. I need to get him through.”

El was prepared with everything and it only took a couple of minutes for them to get through the gate, Steve whimpering slightly as they moved him around.

“You were right.”

El seemed surprised, like she had only done this to give Eddie closure. She hadn’t expected Steve to be alive.

“He loves me,” Steve said.

El looked at Eddie, then at Steve, then back to Eddie.

“You love him?”

“I do. And I’ll love him a lot more if he stays alive. We have to get him to the hospital.”

“I can call Hopper?”

“Tell him to meet us at the cabin with an ambulance.”

“Jus’ need sleep.”

Eddie looked at Steve, mouth open in disbelief.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Sleep.”

“I’m not arguing with you. You can barely form a sentence. You’re going to the hospital.”

“You come?”

“I won’t leave your side.”

Eddie put him on his back again so he could walk towards the cabin, hopeful that Hopper wouldn’t ask a lot of questions until they got Steve taken care of.

“He is on his way!” El yelled from the porch, Joyce coming up behind her, hair a mess from being asleep.

When she saw Steve, her eyes widened and she nearly tripped running down the stairs.

“Oh God, Steve! Honey, are you okay? Of course not, you can’t even walk. You’re bleeding!”

“Mrs. Byers, can you get him some water maybe please?”

“Yes! Oh my God!”

She was running back up the stairs, mumbling to herself the whole way.

El giggled as she watched.

Eddie loved her.

He could hear sirens in the distance, and he hoped he would be able to ride with Steve.

He shouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

Steve’s eyes were closed, but Eddie kept his fingers on his pulse, making sure he didn’t have any changes while the sirens got closer.

Hopper’s patrol car arrived first, barely in park before Hopper was jumping out and running to where Eddie was cradling Steve.

Joyce came out with the water and handed it to Eddie.

“Dammit, why would you go down there alone? You know the rules.”

Eddie ignored him, just focused on getting some water past Steve’s lips.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Just a few sips.”

Steve’s lips moved, then he swallowed some of the water.

“There ya go. Good job.”

Hopper was watching in silence now, Joyce with her arm around him.

Eddie knew they were wondering how the hell they would ever get over leaving Steve behind.

The ambulance pulled up next, EMTs rushing out and asking Eddie question after question.

He had to keep it simple: found him in the woods, must’ve been out there since the quake with the injuries and level of dehydration. They took him at his word.

When they loaded Steve up, they let Eddie in only because Hopper insisted.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

And he was.

Eddie kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, but he could see the lights of Hopper’s police car in the window next to him.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open a few times as they hooked him up to oxygen and an IV, kept checking his vitals.

Eddie smiled at him each time, made sure he knew he was there and he loved him.

—---------------------------

It was two days before Steve woke up again.

The wounds weren’t bad, but they were infected, which was why they kept randomly bleeding despite not being very deep.

The infection was actually the worst of it, but it had potential to be life threatening if they couldn’t get it under control.

They pumped him full of pain relievers and antibiotics, fluids and nutrients.

Eddie sat by his bed the whole time.

None of the kids were allowed in yet, doctor’s and Hopper’s orders, but he heard Dustin in the hall multiple times a day giving it his best shot.

Robin hadn’t come by yet. Eddie knew she felt guilty, immensely so. She left her best friend down there, suffering, and didn’t even think to double check when it was safe to do so.

Eddie didn’t blame her, and he knew Steve wouldn’t either, but Robin would.

But when Steve’s eyes finally opened, bloodshot and glassy from his IV concoction, he smiled at Eddie.

“Love me?”

“Just a little.”

He fell back asleep a few minutes later, holding Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

—------------------------

It took another four days before the doctors said he could be around others. His infection symptoms had gotten better and they believed the worst was over.

Eddie called Robin and told her to bring Dustin, no arguing. Steve was asking for them.

It wasn’t a lie, but he may have exaggerated it slightly just to get them here.

And when they did show up, everyone cried.

Robin collapsed next to the bed while Dustin folded himself against Steve the moment he was given permission to.

Eddie just watched from his chair, took in the way Steve comforted them despite the fact he was still in the hospital after spending a month alone in the Upside Down.

That was just who Steve was.

It probably wasn’t healthy, but it’s why Eddie loved him. Just a little.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #temporary character death #ficlet #request #angst #happy ending

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xxforestfairyxx · 4 months

Text

Indiana Snow

an: We've just had our first snow of winter and everything looks so pretty! In honor of the first snow, here's a winter Eddie one-shot, a product of my boredom! Hope you enjoy it! (NOT related to 'The time before')

blurb: Andrea Emerson is back from college, but not even a week into her winter break, Hawkins receives a freak blizzard. Her brother, Gareth, has recently suffered an injury and calls in his bandmate to aid Andrea.

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The snow was coming down in small, sticky clumps when I woke up on a chilly morning in the middle of December. I could feel the blistering cold through my socks as I walked down the creaky stairs, trying my hardest to not wake the rest of the house up. I made my way into the frightfully cold kitchen, where a note taped to the fridge caught my eye.

Wanted to get out before the snow started. There are sandwich materials in the pantry. Josie's food is in the fridge. Love, Mom

Right on cue, I could hear my sister's tiny footsteps padding down the stairs. She came around the corner into the kitchen, her hair sticking out in every direction while she rubbed her eyes. "Hi, bubby," I said, picking her up and kissing her on the cheek. She was only two but had recently figured out how to climb out of the crib. "Hi, Andy," She sighed and laid her head on my shoulder sleepily.

Josie and I spent the rest of the morning making breakfast and coffee while watching the snow out the window.

Eventually, Gareth came downstairs, befuddled by sleep, and had breakfast. He glanced out the window, immediately refusing to shovel any snow. He sprained his ankle a week ago anyway, so I wasn't planning on him doing much. "I will take Josie out to play, though," he exclaimed, his statement punctuated by an excited squeal from Josie. I sighed heavily, marching to get my boots and coat on.

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What a great way to start winter break. Not even three days back from college, and already freezing my butt off while shoveling snow. I wasn't making any good progress either, barely getting the steps clear enough to get out of the house without falling over.

About half an hour into shoveling, I heard a voice behind me. "Hey, stranger." I turned to see Eddie, clad in a winter jacket, holding a snow shovel. The snow whipped around us, leaving snowflakes in his hair, which was held back in a ponytail. He looks like an angel, I thought. The idea bounced around in my mind briefly before I banished it. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I came to help," He said, motioning to the shovel.

"You guys sure did get a lot more snow than we did at the trailer park. That probably has to do with how many cars drive up and down those roads. It's so much... prettier here." He said, looking out in our yard. Our house was nothing to look out for, nothing notable. It was small, with barely enough space for all of us. I made a slight noise of agreement before getting back to shoveling, Eddie following close behind. "Jesus, this snow is packed. I think what you need for Christmas is a snowblower," he exclaimed. I laughed mildly, watching a grin break out across his face.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, heaving snow to the left of me. "Shoot," He replied. "Were you actually 'In the neighborhood' and just happened upon me?" I asked. He let a few moments pass before heaving out a long sigh. "Not really," He finally answered. "Your brother called me." Bingo. "Oh." Even I could hear the disappointment bubbling in my voice. I'm gonna kill that brat.

"But I'm happy to do it. What other day do I get to spend with a college girl?" He grinned at me. "Shut up," I said, trying not to let him see me smile at such a stupid joke. "Well, tell me about it. How is college going?" He asked. I sighed. "It's good. I like it; it's just so... much. The schedule is really intense." I explained. "Geez. Sounds rough," he said. I was also tempted to ask him about school, but I knew there wouldn't be much to say. I could tell he took a hit on his self-esteem each time he had to repeat senior year.

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"Well, it looks like we're about done here," I said. After almost two hours in the snow, we had finally cleared the driveway and the sidewalk. He held his hand up for a high five, which I missed by about a mile. We both let out awkward laughter, eye contact slipping away. There was another minute of awkward silence. "Hey, I think we've got some hot chocolate inside," I suggested in a singsongy tone. "Hell yeah. I'm freezing my balls off," he said, letting out a chuckle of laughter. I walked past him, smiling, and let us into the house.

We shed our coats, boots, and scarves by the front door and entered the kitchen. Eddie followed me as I went through the cabinets, grabbing various supplies. Josie came running over, and I picked her up, cradling her in my arm while the other stirred cocoa powder into a few mugs. "Josie, you remember Eddie," I said, turning her to face Eddie, leaning against the counter next to me. He waved to her. "Can you say 'Hi'?" I prompted. She waited a few minutes while smiling at him and then said a slow 'hi.' He shot her a grin and returned the greeting. She giggled and hid her face in my neck. Me too, girl. Me too.

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The following afternoon was very calm, with Eddie and Gareth escaping to the basement to practice a little one-on-one. We drank our hot chocolate at the kitchen table, laughing the whole time as Eddie or Gareth cracked a joke.

"Why in God's name would you call Eddie, of all people?" I asked while shutting the door behind the cold. "Well... um.... I thought he would be the most willing?" He said, scratching his head. "And why is that?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Because the guy loves you! I mean, do you really not see it?" He exclaimed. I scoffed. "Come on. Is there any other guy in this town who would subject himself to a day of manual labor just so he could spend time with you? He was practically begging me to give him an in like this." My heart thumped in my chest, and I could feel my cheeks blooming with heat. "Shut up. He does not," I said, walking down the hallway back into the kitchen. "Seriously. He doesn't shut up about it. It's a little weird, sometimes, to hear the kind of shit he says about my sister," He said. I focused on doing the dishes, pretending not to hear him. He sighed and finally gave up, walking down the hallway.

My mind continued to race in all different directions. He likes me? How is that even possible? I mean, we never even talked to each other, even though he was best friends with my brother, and we were originally supposed to be in the same year. It was all just... weird. Besides, I've been away at college for the past year! Sure, he was cute in high school and possibly even cuter now, but why would he ever have feelings for me?

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#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

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disneyparksattractionstournament · 6 months

Text

Favorite Disney Parks Attraction Showdown: Round 7/FINALS

Videos and propaganda under the cut!

Haunted Mansion: Disneyland, WDW Magic Kingdom, Tokyo Disneyland

Propaganda:

"The ride system was perfected by Bob Gurr, gay icon. Seriously, any Disney gays and Haunted Mansion gays, thank gay icon, Bob Gurr for giving us an iconic ride vehicle and system. The whole ride is iconic. It inspired modern day horror tropes, gives goth kids a cool ride to enjoy as they pretend not to enjoy their trip with family when they actually do, has that really interesting spider story in the ballroom scene, X Atencio giving us an iconic song, story, script, and voice acting in the Lemme Outta Here ghost and the break down spiel, THE FREAKING STRETCHING ROOM, THE WALLPAPER!!!!!! Hatbox Ghost being an urban legend, with his existence being argued and questioned for years until we finally got a blurry picture confirmation and him coming back years later, ICONIC! Madame Leota and Little Leota! The hitchhiking ghosts!!! GHOST HOST!!!! The freaking conveyor belt at the end of the attraction that you step off to and if your not careful, it's easy to almost fall, accidentally giving one last scare before you leave the ride and makes you realize how clumsy you are? Iconic. "

"This is a ride that I was absolutely terrified of when I was a little kid. I actually have photographic evidence of this (ask for it if you'd like). But, my goodness, this rough start only made me love it all the more as I grew up. This is such a fun and goofy ride despite the morbid theme and occasional eerie bits! It's a duality. The ghosts have such a personality and the Ghost Host is such a charming guide (and I find the fact that he abandons you to go join the swinging wake hilarious, especially because you wander into the attic with Constance when unguided). It's just such a well-crafted ride! There's so much to see and I never get tired of it. The Doombuggy itself is an ingenious way to move people through the ride with such a distinctive design. The Ghost Host raising and lowering the lap bar for you is neat (fun fact, The Phantom in Phantom Manor is a terrible host and doesn't do this for you, probably because he's too busy planning your death. Asshole.). The effects in the ride are so cool and hold up, especially the Pepper's Ghosts effect. The rooms are distinct and eccentric. The Grim Grinning Ghosts song is absolutely delightful, and it's such a nice touch that you can distinguish the vocals of different ghosts you see in the graveyard. I should also just give a shout-out to the soundtrack for the ride as a whole, which wonderfully warps the Grim Grinning Ghosts theme to match the scene you're in. The ride also does such a good job of plunging you straight into the experience with facade of the mansion (I adore the look of the conservatory) and the queue. The tombstones are so funny and I really appreciate the interactive elements they added in the exterior section. And then you get inside the mansion, hear the Ghost Host's narration, and get into the Stretching Room. How can I describe that room other than frightfully fun? So, why Walt Disney World instead of Disneyland? I prefer experiencing the changing portraits on the ride rather than in the queue. I love the library as the setting for the busts that watch you. The music room with the ghost you can only see in shadow playing a version of Grim Grinning Ghosts is captivating. And, my goodness, the staircase room takes my breath away and I love watching the ghostly footsteps on the stairs. It's even going to have the Hatbox Ghost soon (I am not weighing in on the discourse over the potential location for him).

"I love it. I love ghosties. I love the effects. I love women who murder their husbands. I love the jaunty tunes. I love having to stop for 4 minutes not even partway into the ride and having to watch the same things going on for ages. I love a good ghoul ride, man "

"Epic conveyer belt keeps the line moving (though that won't always stop the line from being long)."

youtube

Tower of Terror: WDW Hollywood Studios, Paris Walt Disney Studios Park, California Adventure (2004-2017), Tokyo DisneySea

Propaganda:

"you forget how scary it is until you watch the preshow. and then you forget how fun it is until you ride the ride. 10/10 would recommend went on it with my friends twice last time we went."

"WE LOVE HORROR MEDIA REPRESENTATION!!! ONLY PUSSIES TAKE THE STAIRS"

"This ride made me absolutely terrified of elevators for a bit. xD Anyway, the bellhop cast members are hilarious. The hotel that is covered in cobwebs and was clearly abandoned in a rush after a terrible event is so cool. The Rod Sterling Twilight Zone intro is iconic. The basement is an interesting setting for the final part of the queue. The generators, lights, and floor indicator malfunctioning helps build your anticipation. The friggin elevator moving into the hallway and into a new shaft when the electrical ghosts make their appearance and you enter the Twilight Zone is so impressive. The dropping and rising of the elevator is such fun and I love the randomized events they added. I have to say, though, that ventriloquist dummy in the unloading room still makes me uncomfortable."

"Who doesn't love a creepy dark drop narrated by the man, the myth, the legend Rod Serling himself?"

youtube

#disney parks #disney parks attractions tournament #disney #poll #disney world #tournament poll #wdw #disneyland #magic kingdom #haunted mansion #tower of terror #the twilight zone #rod sterling #dca #finals #round 7 #Youtube

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skyward-floored · 3 months

Note

Warriors tugged his scarf up again and hacked another series of sharp, rough coughs into the fabric. His sigh more like a groan after catching his breath once the fit was over.

His head swam slightly, but he pushed through it and swept his bangs off his face. He wasn't sure, but his hands were either frightfully cold or he was on the border of running a temperature.

"Hey, hello! Wars!"

He was startled out if his introspective daze by the hand waving in his face.

"All good? That sounded nasty and like it had to hurt," Twilight offered up one of the waters from the group.

"Thanks, I've got mine," if, and a big if, he was sick it would do no good to have it go around over a shared water canteen.

"Morning crud," Wars shrugged after he took a swig of water. It burned something fierce and eroded some of his confidence as well as his forced smile. "You know how it is."

"Mhmm, sure," Twilight didn't sound overly convinced.

The group trudged on a while longer, though Warriors fell into a daze around the sharp, stabbing coughs that just seemed to dig deeper and deeper into him behind his sternum.

"Oh-kay that's enough of that," Sky clapped his hands and spun to face the lagging half of the group- which seemed to only hold Twilight, surprisingly Time and Wind, and Warriors himself.

"Time for a break. Wars, sit." Sky doled out commands effortlessly and Wars could do naught but sit numbly down beneath a tree.

"Did he just-?"

"Yep. He used his knight voice on you," Wind snickered and elbowed Wars' side, elicting another string of coughs and a groan.

"Sick, Captain?" Sky was standing in front of him, blocking the light. It looked like Twilight was just behind him, the tattle tale.

"Hardly," he waved off the gravely crunch to his voice, "Probably just the tail end of whatever it was a week ago working it's way out at most."

"Uh-huh."

Wars went to retort again and found himself with a face full of Wind's hand on one cheek, Sky's on his forehead, and Time sneaking the back of his fingers to the other cheek. He felt his face flush at the attention, and with a bit of indignation.

"Hands off," he batted them all away, albeit gently and with no bite. The jig was up, it seemed.

"It is okay to ask for down time and to rest," Sky had crouched in front of him now, "you know that, right?"

"We won't be upset as long as you take care of yourself, Captain," Time frowned in a way that reminded Wars too much of the little gremlin boy he knew of Time from the war. Wind was in on the concerned frowning, more of a brotherly pout really, to really pile on the lesson that he is cared for here.

Twilight seemingly disappeared, either to avoid accusation or to busy himself with the site set up.

Oh, but, hmm, must be more out of it than I thought, Wars thought to himself. Wolfie had trotted over and began to nudge his way under War's arm to settle his warmth and weight across his stomach and chest.

Sky gave Wars' hair a ruffle and gave a quick headshake to Time and Wind when they moved to get up.

"Stay here and keep him resting. Hylia knows he won't let himself," Sky gave a soft smile. "It is okay to need a break and a rest, please take it."

---------

Woe your coughing be upon Warriors and also the blorbos r cuddling you too.

anon wait you can’t just drop this here and leave without revealing yourself ANON COME BACK THIS WAS VERY SWEET AND JUST WHAT I NEEDED AND NOW I’M CRYING YOU’RE SO SWEET AND LOVELY

#answers from the floor #anon #linkeduniverse #linked universe #fic #I don’t deserve you all WAAAAH

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achaotichuman · 2 months

Text

Ya'll remember the Dahlia fic I posted like three hours ago?

I hope you do because here is chapter 2

Link to part 1 is here.

@fell-in-luvs, @r-biter, @praetorqueenreyna

______________________________________________________________

A Field of Dahlias

When he awoke, someone was pressing a damp washcloth to his forehead. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes. Vision blurry and everything was sore.

Finally, he recognised the person above him as Alis. The female noticed him waking up and inhaled quickly before letting the washcloth rest on his head, taking his hands in hers.

She called over her shoulder, "Tell Lucien he's awake."

There was the sound of a book snapping shut as a person got up from the emerald chair in the corner of his room. Tamlin tried to lift his head to get a clue of who was sitting there, but he only managed a glimpse of pale robes before Alis pushed him back down.

"Where is Lucien?" Tamlin asked. His voice sore, barely above a whisper.

"Speaking with some courtiers, nothing to worry over." Her hands moved to hair and began to plait so as to keep her fingers busy.

"What happened?" He asked.

Alis still for a moment, then she said, "You're magic exploded, your study was the only thing affected."

"My magic exploded?" Tamlin asked, his voice even smaller.

"Yes."

"But..." I'm not supposed to use my magic, and for it to have exploded like that.

Oh no.

Oh god no.

At that moment Lucien walked in.

The red head was beside the bed in seconds. A hand went to Tamlin's shoulder, "Hey, you're up."

"Yeah." Tamlin replied.

"Still weak, but awake." Alis said, taking away the washcloth from his head and sliding off the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Lucien asked.

"Awful." Tamlin snapped.

Lucien gave him a soft smile that didn't reach his worried eyes, "Figures."

"Here." Alis said, and she helped him to slowly sit up.

The second he was upright, all the blood in his brain rushed out. Dizziness overtook and his face went frightfully pale.

Alis reacted faster than Lucien and grabbed a bucket beside the bed.

Tamlin vomited until he was dry heaving. Alis' rough hands pulled back his hair and Lucien immediately moved to rub his back. Tamlin however pushed him back.

When his body finally relented, Tamlin slumped back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling.

Alis took the mess away with a murmur that she would be back soon. Lucien nodded to her while Tamlin closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

When the door clicked shut, Lucien broke the silence, "Well this has been a hectic day."

"You think." Tamlin rasped.

"Yeah I do. And I think it has been made worse by the fact we have not addressed all that need addressing."

"Lucien-" Tamlin groaned.

"No, if you won't talk about it Tamlin, then I will. Like it or not, you are pregnant, it is Feyre's. Feyre is now the God's know where in Night with that monster-"

Feyre in that fabric that couldn't be called clothes. In Rhysand's grasp. Painted and being touched while drugged flashed through his mind.

"Feyre-!" Tamlin shot up and wen to rush out of bed.

Lucien grabbed and pulled him right back, "Enough, Tamlin!"

"But she-" Tamlin would bite him if he needed to.

"She is Night because of a bargain she made when she was warned not to."

"He coerced her into it." Tamlin seethed, he knew, Feyre had said when he quested the bargain mark. How Rhysand had twisted her arm when she initially refused it.

"I know." Lucien said, worry shining in his eyes, "But it is still bargain magic and until the week is up, we won't know where she is."

"If," Tamlin's voice was like thunder, "She is still there a second after the seventh day ends, I am storming the Night Court."

"I don't doubt it." Lucien murmured, "In the meantime, we have another issue."

Just like that, the fear writhed in him again, "My magic exploded-"

"Heilda gave you a check over whilst you slept. We got lucky."

Mother above, he nearly thanked the Gods.

"But-" Lucien said sternly.

Tamlin already knew what he was going to say.

"She doesn't just recommend female because its more comfortable, it's also safer Tamlin. So-"

"I know." Tamlin whispered.

Lucien's hand travelled along the soft sheets, then gently covered Tamlin's.

"This is shitty." Lucien said.

Tamlin huffed a laugh, "Yeah."

A heartbeat of silence passed and Lucien eventually asked, "Do you want to try shifting?"

Tamlin sighed, "Yeah."

"Okay do you need me to leave-?"

In a second his clothes were ever so slightly baggier around his waist. The fabric around his chest constricted and his jaw became just slightly less defined. Small changes, but enough to mark him as something else.

Thank Gods for him that he retained most of his muscles. Eyes, wider now, looked up to Lucien.

The Fox was blushing furiously and it made Tamlin bite his lip not to laugh.

"How- you-"

Tamlin shrugged, "I base it off what my body already looks like."

"Mhm." Lucien's cheeks were flushed a rosy red, "I didn't realise it was so easy."

Tamlin laughed, voice with a slightly higher pitch. Toned differently enough for anyone to notice a change, "It doesn't sound like it would be."

"No it doesn't." Lucien murmured, then he cleared his throat.

Tamlin picked at the buttons of his shirt, pulling too tight to be comfortable. Lucien noticed and quickly asked, "Do you want a different set of clothes."

Tamlin was still in the clothes he would have been married in. Jacket and waistcoat gone. But still in his trousers and white shirt. His heart throbbed.

"Yeah."

Lucien nodded but before he could leave the bed, there was a rapping against the door.

"Come in!" Tamlin called out.

"Just as I thought." A female said as she opened the door, "Different voice means you've already shifted?"

Ianthe peeked through the crack in the door, not stepping through the threshold. One of her vows of purity. To not step under the roof of a room with only a male.

She looked him up and down, "I was correct then."

Without another word she tossed some clothes into the bedroom, they hit the bed. Tamlin lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

"Clothing." She said, as if it were not obvious.

"I won't be wearing Priestess robes." Tamlin said with a slight tilt to his lips.

"I would be offended if you were." Ianthe retorted, "Change and once you two have your heart to heart there is someone who wants to see the two of you."

"Who?" Lucien asked.

"Hurry up and you'll see." Ianthe told him flippantly. Then she closed the door.

Lucien rolled his eyes hard enough Tamlin thought they might get stuck in the back of his head.

"Must she be sarcastic as well as insufferable."

"Wouldn't be Ianthe otherwise." Was all Tamlin replied with as he moved to grab the clothes, she had tossed him.

Not her clothing, certainly not, the Priestess. Specifically, the High Priestesses, swore their virginity to the Mother. Which included a myriad of rules that Tamlin had never paid attention to learning. His mother had always scolded him for not being as studious as he should've been.

He didn't recognise the clothes and they smelled unused. How long had he been out that she had been able to go out and buy new clothing?

"I wonder who could be here-" Lucien started. Then cut himself off sharply as Tamlin unbuttoned his shirt.

"Tam-Tamlin!" Lucien quickly swivelled his head away, staring adamantly at the wall opposite to Tamlin.

Tamlin breathed in deeply as he still adjusted to the new weight on his chest. Strange and new despite him having worn it before.

He didn't purposely altar anything. His body was as it was if he had been biologically born a female. Risking alterations risked unnecessary magic and in turn unnecessary risk.

But it seemed he had inherited his mother's figure. Which was a pain in multiple ways. Including the back it was bound to cause his back.

"Mother above." Tamlin mumbled as he stretched his arms.

Lucien was very still, arms crossed, and eyes pinned to the wall. Tamlin watched him from the corner of his eye as he pulled on the thin blue knit top Ianthe had given him. It was fairly loose but tight enough that his figure was highlighted. Then he began to undo his trousers.

"Have you never seen a female's body before, Lucien?" Tamlin teased as he pulled his trousers down over his hips.

"I have-!" Lucien's gaze swiftly turned back at the implied insult, but he yelped and turned back away.

Tamlin rolled his eyes and quickly pulled on the new grey wool pants.

"You are free to look now." Tamlin said.

Lucien breathed out through his nose then turned back around. He nodded once then furrowed his brow.

"What?" Tamlin asked.

Lucien stammered for a moment before gesturing to Tamlin's chest. Tamlin nearly laughed.

"They're called tits, Lucien."

"I know- Mother above Tamlin." Lucien huffed, "I mean don't females usually wear.... undergarments for their breasts."

"Oh... yeah." That may possibly be helpful.

There was silence for a moment, then Tamlin asked, "Where do we get one of those?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know Lucien, you're out with girls all the time."

"I don't go shopping with them." Lucien said scrunching his face.

Tamlin sighed, then he slid off the bed, "Well I have to go ask Alis an uncomfortable question. Join me?"

"And watch you stammer as you try to ask, of course." Lucien replied, quickly following after him.

Tamlin laughed and felt like maybe this would be okay.

Alis had been lurking just in a room down the hall. Giving some order to the new maids who had been hired. Lucien had walked in first, Tamlin, suddenly insecure of his new form, had hidden behind him. Hands itching to hold onto the back of his shirt, but he already first embarrassed enough as it was.

When Alis saw them, she quickly straightened and told the girls to shoo. They scattered off with a 'Yes miss,' and a curtsey to the Lords.

Tamlin did not enjoy how they looked at him confused and hesitantly said 'My lady.' He did not refute them though.

Once they were gone, Tamlin appeared before Alis more fully and began by saying, "So Alis-"

"This is going to be about bras I'm guessing." Alis said, with one hand on her hip.

Tamlin blinked, "How did you-"

Alis gestured to his chest, then raised an eyebrow, "You have your mother's form. You can borrow some of hers until we can have some made for you."

"Oh please God no-"

"You have an important guest waiting for you in your office, so you will suck it up, sweetheart." Alis said kindly before leading him back in the direction of his bedroom, Lucien trailing behind.

"Who is this important guest?" Tamlin asked.

Alis hesitated for a moment, before ultimately saying, "You will see."

Lucien quickly leaned in a said, "I told you Ianthe is contagious."

Tamlin stifled a laugh as Alis dragged him back into his room. When Lucien attempted to follow in, Alis shut the door in his face.

"Sorry Lucien!" She called out.

"No problem!" Lucien called back, "I'll wait here!"

Quickly Alis went over to Tamlin's wardrobe and rifled through for a single box. His mother's possessions which had been cleaned and put away for safe keeping. She eventually looked back up at him.

"Do you like red?" She asked sweetly.

"I am going to get a very uncomfortable reality of what my mother went through aren't I?"

"Yes, sweetheart, you are."

***

After Alis finally taught him how the clasps worked, making more than one comment about Feyre must have had to undo all her own bras as he was hopeless. They walked back out.

True to his word. Lucien was leaning against the wall opposite of the door, fiddling with his nails. As soon as the door opened and Tamlin stepped out, the Fox looked him over. Cheeks flushing red again, but he nodded, then jutted his head in the general direction of his office.

"Shall we?" Lucien asked.

"We don't have another choice." Tamlin mumbled.

Alis told them she would be getting back to work. Then murmured a good luck, which didn't give Tamlin much hope.

As they walked the halls, Lucien said, "You look good."

"Thanks, enjoy it while it lasts." He knew the effects of pregnancy were many. And many he was not looking forward to.

Lucien lightly knocked Tamlin's shoulder with his own, "We'll handle everything as it comes."

Tamlin nodded but he couldn't shake the utter worry festering in him.

Finally, they made it to the closed wood door of his office. Lucien and Tamlin stopped before it. Sharing a look. Tamlin nodded once and Lucien opened the door.

Tamlin didn't know what he was expecting. A monster maybe, Amarantha back from the dead. Hybern himself.

But his mind never conjured the idea of Eris Vanserra sitting in his chair. Legs kicked up on his desk, mindlessly playing with one of his pens.

"Finally!" Eris exclaimed, "Someone deigns to meet me."

Lucien had gone awfully still in front of him. Eris met his eyes, having not seen Tamlin behind him yet, "Brother, I thought your High lord would come himself, but I can always discuss matters with you. You were always quite intelligent."

"Eris." Lucien growled.

"Easy boy." Eris told him. Voice mocking, "I will not bite... nor burn."

"What are you doing here?" Lucien asked, his voice was a low and harsh. His hand twitched like the youngest Vanserra would like for nothing more than to burn his eldest brother to death.

"Is it not obvious? I came to see my dear old friend Tam-"

As Eris spoke, Tamlin stepped out from behind Lucien.

"-lin.... Interesting." Eris mused, a lazy grin spreading across his feline face as he laid further back into Tamlin's chair.

"Vanserra, kindly get the fuck out of my chair."

After another careful once-over of Tamlin's new form, he said, "But the view from here if quite spectacular."

A smile spread on Tamlin's face, "Then come over here and you may see it better."

"Well, if you insist." Eris said as he easily stood without faltering and walked around the desk.

In a second Lucien's arm shot out, but Eris tsked, "Such behaviour, littlest brother. I am sure Tamlin is fully capable."

"I trust you, Eris, as far as I can throw you. Which we can both assume would not be very far."

"Right." Eris drawled, side-eying his brother.

"Enough sibling rivalry. Hello Eris." Tamlin said with a grin.

Eris turned his attention to his friend, the friend he'd had for four centuries, "Hello Tamlin."

Lucien blinked. Tamlin just nodded to him, and the Fox glared but moved his hand away.

"What do you need?" Tamlin asked, as long as he had been friends with Eris, he knew this was male never came around for just a friendly check in.

"Heard on the grapevine that a certain bride ran off with teh High lord of Night. Decided to come around and see what all the fuss was."

Tamlin blinked, then he looked at Lucien who was scowling.

If word had already reached Eris... How long had he been out for?

"Lucien how long was I asleep?" Tamlin asked.

Lucien pursed his lips, then he turned to Tamlin and slowly said, "About a day and a half."

Tamlin gaped. He forced his way past Eris, who despicably was taller than him whilst he was female form. He looked out the large window behind his desk and saw that the sun was indeed high in the sky.

"It's tomorrow?!" Tamlin seethed.

"I didn't want to worry you so soon after you woke up." Lucien said gently.

"It would have been helpful to know it was tomorrow!"

That meant Feyre had already been in the Night Court for a day and a half. Rhysand doing the Gods knew what to her-

"Mother above." Tamlin felt sick.

"Okay." Lucien hummed, he quickly walked over and took Tamlin's hands. Leading him to the green lounge. Slowly letting him sink into the soft pillows, "Breathe Tamlin."

Tamlin wanted to snap, but even breathing was becoming difficult.

"What is going on?" Eris asked, concern bleeding into his words.

Lucien looked between Eris and Tamlin, then leaned into whisper, "Do you wish to tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Eris stepped forward.

"Eris-!" Lucien stood up, looking as though he would physically remove Eris from the office himself, but Tamlin caught his hand.

"It's fine Lucien, he can know."

"Are you sure?" Lucien asked.

Tamlin nodded, then turned to look at Eris who was standing with his arm crossed and eyebrow raised.

He looked so smug, the one joy Tamlin could find was he about to knock that away.

"Eris I'm pregnant."

Eris' furrowed his brow.

A heartbeat passed, and the news sunk in.

The first son of Autumn's face dropped. His mouth fell open, his eyes widened so most of his whites showed. He quickly put the back of his hand over his mouth as he processed it.

"What?" Eris managed to choke out.

In any other situation, Tamlin would have laughed at how the snarky Prince was finally speechless. Right now all he wished to do was cry.

"Yes." His voice nearly cracked. But he swallowed hard and held his head high.

"So that's why..." Eris made a gesture to his body and Tamlin wanted to curl up and away from sight.

"Yes." Tamlin said in a far quieter voice to keep the shaking out of his voice.

"Oh... shit. But Feyre-"

"Is also a shapeshifter," Lucien said.

Eris looked between Lucien and Tamlin. Occasionally opening his mouth to say something but ultimately choosing not to.

Then he sat down on the lounge beside Tamlin, eyes blinking, and face still caught in shock, "Well... fuck."

"That was the beginning of the problem." Tamlin said.

Lucien and Eris chuckled suddenly at Tamlin's attempt at a joke.

Then the room fell silent again.

Now that it was out and open, Tamlin couldn't deny it any longer.

A baby.

He was having a baby.

And his fiancé was in the Night Court. Completely unknowing.

And he was here.

Tears pressed into his eyes and Tamlin was finally unable to stop them.

"Oh, love." Lucien whispered. Collecting Tamlin in his arms.

At the warmth, the love in his embrace. Tamlin was utterly helpless. He cried into his chest, unable to hold it back any longer.

A warm hand that wasn't Lucien's rubbed up and down his back.

"I'll murder Rhysand." Eris hissed under his breath.

Lucien drew in a breath, "Let's just start with handling this week."

***

The week itself ended quicker than Tamlin thought it would. Eris couldn't stay for longer than the rest of the day, but he promised to return again later.

As for Tamlin, he cried a lot that week. He also broke more than one vase after a nightmare of seeing Feyre underneath Rhysand, screaming for help-

Lucien held him a lot that week. Tamlin hated how dependant he felt on his touch, on his arms around him. Alis had been as open as she could, but even she was busy with training the new hires. And the most comfort Ianthe was physically capable of providing anybody was an awkward pat on the shoulder.

More than once Lucien and Tamlin wound up in the library. Curled up on a cushioned seat made for one. The fire roaring the manor asleep.

Tamlin had often tucked his face into Lucien's neck, whilst Lucien held him in his arms. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear to calm him.

It had been a nice reprieve from the stress. But nothing could put aside the fear he held that at the end of the week Feyre wouldn't be back.

But she was.

And something was very, very different.

Tamlin's first fear was that Rhysand had laid hands on her. But spoke little of what had happened during the week.

"Anything, anything you learned, anything they told you." Lucien said, as Feyre glared at him from her seat.

Her eyes were colder, her gaze piercing. She shook her head, "They told me nothing of value. I just stayed in his palace until the weeks end."

Tamlin nodded, finding comfort in that least, "He didn't touch you?"

Feyre shook her head and Tamlin wanted to thank the Mother.

"That's good."

At least they had that reassurance.

But why collect her now?

What game are you playing Rhysand?

***

"Feyre! Thank the Mother and Cauldron and every holy item in her trove!" Ianthe exclaimed as the taller female wrapped the Cursebreaker in a hug hard enough to crush.

The air whooshed from Feyre's lungs and she gasped. But her shock overode the pain. Ianthe was hugging her. Being physically affectionate.

That was... a first.

Then she quickly pulled back and cupped Feyre's face, moving her head back and forth as she inspected the younger woman for injuries of any kind.

"The Mother will wreak havoc on that male if he has harmed you. He never touched you, did he?" She asked quickly.

Feyre shook her head. "No Ianthe, he did nothing to me."

"Oh, the Mother is kind and merciful." Ianthe then pulled her into another embrace.

"Ianthe you- can't breathe."

"Oh, oh no." Ianthe quickly released her, "Sorry."

Feyre took in a breath and rubbed her sore ribs, "It's fine, really."

Ianthe nodded, then she scowled at her clothes, "Come flower, we'll get these atrocious fabrics off of you."

As much as Feyre wished to snap they were not atrocious, that she had learned to love the clothing she was in. That she didn't want to put on the clothes of Spring, but she nodded and silently allowed Ianthe to lead her back inside.

Tamlin she saw next. Her initial reaction was shock because of who she saw standing in place of the normally broad hunter-like male.

She saw Tamlin, in the same female form he had been in the night they shared together several months ago. A loose green silk dress adorned his figure, curving around his full breasts and slightly smaller waist. He was slightly shorter but still much taller than Feyre. Now Ianthe's height. Though Ianthe could not be called a short woman at all.

"Feyre." He breathed, before rushing to pull her into hsi arms.

Feyre let him, not knowing why the usual passion she felt for him was missing.

***

The Tithe came and Tamlin was sick several times before it began. Lucien stayed with him in the bathroom for over half an hour just holding back his hair and rubbing his back.

By the time he had to make an appearance he felt like going to sleep for a thousand years. He was tired and so, so fucking sick of it all.

"Are you sure you're well enough to do this?"

"Not at all." Tamlin said.

He was nowhere near well enough to do this, but life wasn't fair especially to him. So, he sucked it up but on a fake smile and walked out into the throne room where Feyre was already waiting with Ianthe. The two were talking about something or other and the conversation halted as he entered, and the Tithe began.

It was nearly as disastrous as the wedding. Ending with once again Feyre storming out.

Tamlin knew what it must've looked like to her. He himself nearly felt bad for the Faery, but he also knew they had found their way here from Summer during the fifty years and had never participated in the Tithe before. He already had the complaint that they didn't want to.

But until the treasures were at least partially recovered from Under the Mountain, and trade was back and running through the Courts. They needed the Tithe.

It was one thing that Feyre said that pissed him off enough that he didn't go after her himself.

"We already have enough jewels."

As if the Tither's collections were for him. As if most, if not all of it went into the salaries for his staff, housing for his people, the workers and the farmers supplies and defences for Spring.

Tamlin had stormed back to his room. It didn't help that he felt fucking useless, helpless, in this form. In a delicate state he couldn't risk too much.

Worst of all he hated the way he now had to dress in it to appear proper. He hated the way his body looked. And he hated knowing how the baby would ruin how he looked.

For years his body had been the one thing in his life had control of. Then Amarantha had forced him and his Court Under the Mountain and his body too was stripped from him.

Eyes roaming exposed skin, taking what didn't belong to it-

He just got his body back and now it was taken again. Now the love of his life was being taken from him a week a month.

Tamlin stormed to his room and locked the door. He then ran to his bed, grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. He pulled back inhaled then screamed into again.

Then he threw the pillow to the floor like it was personally responsible for years of agony.

He wanted to destroy the entire room. Feel the thrill of shredding fabric and breaking furniture under his claws.

But he was fucking tired.

He collapsed onto his bed, grabbed another pillow and screamed into that as well. Before tossing it across the room, it hit the wall with a thud.

Tamlin closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, he hoped he never opened them.

There was a knock at his door.

"Go away!" Tamlin shouted.

"I wasn't going to come in." Ianthe answered, "I just wanted to tell you Feyre is safe in her room, but Rhysand will be collecting her tomorrow."

Oh shit.

Fuck no-

Tamlin sat up straight, but Ianthe called out, "Before you come rushing out this is a hallway with two closed doors at either end and no other women are here so let me leave first."

Tamlin huffed but sat back down, Ianthe then said, "She also doesn't want to see you, but I believe Lucien is waiting in the library."

Tamlin wanted to ask why he should care if Lucien was waiting in the library, but her heard her footsteps leaving and the door of the hallway opening and closing.

"Mother help me." Tamlin mumbled as he stood up and finally left.

He passed Feyre's room and at first his body screamed top open the door and see her. But Ianthe's warning came to mind. He sighed but left it alone.

Lucien was in fact in the library. Sprawled across the sae chair they had spent the week curled up together in. He was deeply entrenched in what he was reading. But he looked up at the sound of Tamlin's footsteps.

Lucien smiled, putting his book down he opened his arms, "Come here, baby."

"Fuck." Tamlin whispered under his breath before rushing to Lucien and falling into his arms, sobbing relentlessly into his dhoulder.

"I'm so fucking pathetic." He cried.

"No you're not, Tam, no you're not." Lucine murmured.

"I can't even protect the one person I'm supposed to protect."

"I know, Tam, I know." Lucien kept him wrapped in his warm arms. They stayed holding each other for hours, until Tamlin ran out of tears and fell into exhaustion, finally sleeping, despite the slightly awkward position.

At some point after Tamlin had fallen asleep someone knocked on the threshold and Lucien looked up to see Alis at the door, and behind her was Eris.

The eldest Vanserra walked in, needing no further introduction from Alis, who just nodded to Lucien before slipping away.

Eris sat in a lounge next to Lucien, simply saying, "I'll stay with him this week when you can't."

"Why do you care?" Lucien asked.

"Because he would do the same for me."

***

The week came and went. Same as ever. Except that this time Eris did stay.

As much as Tamlin just wanted to sleep for a week and wake up whenever Feyre was back, he was a High lord and lately one thing stood on the forefront of his mind. The bargain Feyre had made.

Books upon books were open on his desk. Scattered across the ground, papers scrunched littered the floor. Eris was sitting in the green lounge, also flipping through the old books they had taken from the library.

"Nothing." Eris stated, letting the book nag onto the coffee table.

"Could you at least try to be helpful?" Tamlin growled, though it did not sound the same in his female form it was just as intimidating. Though Eris, as per usual, was not impressed.

"I'd much rather be a nuisance." Eris said deadpan. Tamlin rolled his eyes.

"Gods above." Tamlin cursed.

Was there no way out of this?

Here is the link to chapter three!

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otmaaromanovas · 5 months

Text

There is a popular quote attributed to Princess Xenia Georgievna about Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna, claiming that she was “‘frightfully temperamental,” “wild and rough”, and "cheated at games, kicked, scratched, pulled hair, and generally knew how to make herself obnoxious" - yet the letters between Xenia and Anastasia suggest they had a good, familial relationship - so, where did it come from?

Turn to Peter Kurth's book 'Anastasia: the life of Anna Anderson' - the title alone should give a hint at the context behind this quote! Page 202 states that:

"Although Xenia and [sister] Nina had left Russia in 1914, passing the war years with their mother in England, they both retained vivid memories of their “‘frightfully temperamental,” “wild and rough” cousin Anastasia, who cheated at games, kicked, scratched, pulled hair, and generally knew how to make herself obnoxious. “‘Anastasia was madly jealous of me because I was taller than she was,” Princess Nina recalled. “As the daughter of the Emperor she thought she ought by rights to tower over everyone.”"

So, one riddle is already solved: the much quoted note about Anastasia cheating "at games, kicked, scratched, pulled hair..." etc was not said directly by Xenia Georgievna, but rather was Kurth's interpretation and paraphrasing.

Kurth cites two sources here: the first, for Xenia, as being one of the two trials surrounding Anna Anderson in Hamburg. Hence, the quotes came from Xenia Georgievna's testimony to the court. The second, for Nina claiming that Anastasia was "madly jealous" because of her height is noted as coming from an "Interview with Princess Paul Chavchavadze (Princess Nina)" - Peter Kurth's own interview with Nina Georgievna.

Let's look closely at these two quotes.

Xenia's, saying that Anastasia was "wild and rough", came directly from a court setting, a legal testimony. As someone who knew Anastasia growing up, her opinion over the Anna Anderson affair would have been one of great interest. It's therefore quite likely that, in illustrating their apparent closeness as children to the extent that Xenia knew Anastasia's "wild" side, she was more reliable as a witness. This, of course, neglects to mention that Xenia and her sister departed Russia with their mother in 1914. They never got to see Anastasia mature into a teenager, whilst her tutors, close family, and entourage did - and they unanimously agreed that Anna Anderson could not have been Anastasia.

Similarly, Nina's quote about Anastasia's jealousy over her height appears to be somewhat accurate - Anastasia was indeed self-conscious about her height, writing in a letter to her father that she was very pleased to discover that she was taller than an officer that the sisters met. However, it also appears to be somewhat exaggerative.

For a more balanced perspective of Xenia and Nina, when they left Russia in 1914, they never saw their father again. He was shot by the Bolsheviks in 1919. No amount of money, status, or lavish upbringing can bring back a loved one: I don't think that it would be too drastic to say that, having lost her father to the Revolution, she was hopeful that there could be some hope that someone in their family might have escaped. Xenia, the younger child, just eleven years old when she saw her father for the last time, was unable to convince her elder sister that Anna Anderson was Anastasia.

Photo, left to right: Nina Georgievna, Anastasia Nikolaevna, Alexei Nikolaevich, Olga Nikolaevna, Tatiana Nikolaevna, Xenia Georgievna, Maria Nikolaevna

#Anastasia Nikolaevna #Anastasia Romanov #Anna Anderson #Nina Georgievna #Xenia Georgievna #Nina Romanov #Xenia Romanov #quotes #sources #Peter Kurth #cousins

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barmadumet · 3 months

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💐 happy Valentine ❤️

Thank you so SO much! You have no idea how thankful I am for sweet anon messages today. It’s been a rough one.

I am finally home; I had stayed with my parents a few nights helping my mom take care of my dad post triple bypass surgery. It was very hard to leave. Earlier today, we had him up and moving, and he blacked out and fell.

I am so glad I was there; I was able to help my mom brace him and get him safely to the floor, so we could wait for paramedics to arrive.

I am so drained, physically and emotionally. It’s hard to believe two weeks ago, I was just arriving in Orlando and looking forward to a fun weekend. Life has been so chaotic and stressful since then, going back and forth from state to state and lacking sleep from all the worry. Time is quickly and frightfully passing me by.

The most challenging part about this is the distance my parents have created between us. Many of you know the background… For 35 years, my parents were literally my best friends. Then, about 21 months ago, they decided to move away. The fact that they are across state lines now, and no longer a 3 minute drive from my house, has made this so much more difficult. And unfortunately the distance these last almost 2 years, isn’t just physical. We aren’t the family we once were. It’s complicated and strained. And every day I still have to fight the feelings of abandonment and rejection - that worthless feeling that tells me I never truly mattered to them the way I once thought.

More than ever, I am so incredibly grateful for everyone here. You guys give me the strength to go on when I so often feel like I have nothing left after so many impactful losses in such a short span of time.

Happy Palentines Day ❤️ I wish I could give each and every one of you a big hug AND a grand box of chocolates and cuddly teddy bear! (Bear n shit lol) 🍫 💝 🐻

Love you all so much 💘

#asks #I’m sorry I’m so expressive lately #shit is so real rn #love you #thank you #🙏

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frick6101719 · 4 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're doing goood)) Please do tell, are you going to continue writing the sequel to The Last Songbird? I'm so worried cos SaB now cancelled((

HI ANON

Sorry for taking so long to say so, but yes! I am hoping/planning to write a sequel to TLS. My idea right now is to cover some key moments from the actual duology and explore how they would change in this AU, but I haven't quite landed on how to do that yet. I have written part of one important moment though, and since I've made you wait so long I think I owe you a snippet.

~~~

He could see Inej’s little slippered foot dangling over the edge of the crate. She was still, lying on her belly. He could still hear the Blacktip dying at his feet, but it was Kaz who felt like he was choking on his own blood. Climb, you fucking idiot. He ordered his body like he would order any other Dreg, and because he was Dirtyhands, their lieutenant, the brain and the spine of their operation, his body obeyed. He had to climb from another side of the pyramid, wasting precious time. He was not as agile as she, and there were so many here on the docks, waiting for them, he couldn’t waste a second when she could be—

He turned the corner, saw her lying there frightfully still. He grabbed her ankle, and she stirred faintly at his touch. While a shudder of revulsion passed through him he didn’t let that stop him as he leaned over her body, taking her by her shoulder, his other hand on her hip. He hadn’t touched her in so long—she was so small. He tried to be gentle, but he was not a gentle man, and she groaned in pain as he rolled her over.

The knife was free of the sheath hidden in her sleeve before she was even fully turned, and its wickedly sharp point settled beneath her breast with practised precision. Kaz almost dropped her.

“May the Saints receive me,” she whispered.

“No!” He grabbed her wrist, felt her pull against it, but his grip was iron. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even hold the knife, which fell from her grip with a clatter.

He struggled to find his voice. “Not just yet, Inej,” he said. His grip didn’t loosen.

There was no way to be gentle about it, but he slipped the knife back in its sheath and scooped her up, pushing the sound of her pained moans somewhere deep in his mind where he couldn’t touch it, where it wouldn’t drive him insane until he needed it to. I got Brekker’s Wraith.

He jumped down, and though he expected it, the sharp explosion of pain in his leg was staggering. For several moments his world flashed hot and white. He squeezed Inej closer to his chest—her body was limp, and though she didn't weigh much she felt oddly heavy. Perhaps he forgot gravity acted on her the same as everyone else, because he’d seen her move like she weighed nothing, and now she was here, almost dead in his arms—

Not dead, he thought, gritting his teeth. He began to run, each step a fresh burst of agony through his bad leg, but he ignored it. His cane lay tucked in his arm, useless, digging into Inej’s back between her shoulder blades. His Wraith. She’s not dead.

She groaned, head lolling with the rough, unevenness of his gait. “Did we win?”

He inhaled sharply. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He didn’t want her to ask about winning, or what happened, or how his plan went to hell and left her bleeding, clinging desperately to life. Not for the first time, a dark, gleeful voice—Jordie’s voice—reminded him.

I’m here, he thought instead, but he wasn’t willing to look down at her.

“I don’t want to die, Kaz.”

Her voice was small and quiet, and no knife could be more precise carving through his insides and piercing his heart. He swore he’d protect her. He was the worst sort of liar. “I’ll do my best to make other arrangements for you,” he said. He knew it would upset her, and he hated himself for it, but she needed a fire in her to pull through this, and anger was the kind he was most adept at stoking.

He waited for her retort, for an indignant sniff, a righteous proverb—anything—but she remained quiet. “Keep talking Wraith,” he demanded, his voice wavering. “Don’t slip away from me.” Not now. He always knew when she eventually left him it would be his fault, but if he got her killed…

Her head lolled against his chest, and she gave another soft groan. “But it’s… what I do best.” Her eyes were shut.

He squeezed her tighter again, not caring if it made it harder for her to breathe. He hadn’t been this close to her since he became Dirtyhands, and even through the pain and the panic and the blinding rage, he felt the edges of nausea. He clutched her tighter anyway. She wasn’t going to die in his arms. She couldn’t. “Just… just make it to the schooner,” he said. His words sounded desperate even to his own ears. It had been a long time since he held her—it had been longer since he begged for anything. “Open your damn eyes, Inej.”

~~~

I just realised this is the second snippet I've posted; the first is here.

#RIP TO SHADOW AND BONE #we lost a real one #I'm still sad #but bless this fandom #you are so much fun #Kanej #Six of Crows #a fic... of mine???

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twostepstyless · 1 year

Text

Rough

Fic Advent Calendar Day 18

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Authors Note: Y/N and Harry are suffering through their hangovers but Harry has the brilliant (not) idea of going ice skating to fight off the hangover.

As always, reblogs, likes, feedback of any all varieties is encouraged and always appreciated my little chookies - G x

Word Count: 1.8k

SFW

———

Going ice skating while frightfully hungover was not a good idea. In fact, it shouldn’t have even crossed their minds in the first place. The full English fry up Harry ordered in for them when they woke up this morning, was a great idea, a fantastic one they agreed as they revitalised their hungover bodies with some greasy breakfast food. Even the walk round the park with the dog was a good idea, a bit of fresh air to blow the cobwebs of the night before away, but Harry, ever the persuasive, had taken her by the hand and all but dragged her back out the front door, after dropping Vinnie, their dog, off at home, out to the outdoor ice rink set up for the festive period.

“It’ll be fun, m’heart, proper Christmassy as well, innit? I’d put money on us going skating is on your list of stuff f’us to do together,” Harry’s pace was quick as they made their way to the pop-up rink as Y/N gave him a sort of bashful look. “It is on the list, isn’t it?” He sounded smug, proud of himself.

“Maybe, but I envisioned it a little more picturesque than this, not at half 11 on a Sunday morning, hungover, looking like I woke up all of a half hour ago and feeling as rough as a badger’s arse,” Y/N groaned as they got closer, seeing the little hut that housed the rental skates and lockers for your belongings, “plus I wouldn’t even say hungover, I reckon the alcohol content still in my blood would say I’m still drunk, I don’t know if I can skate like this,” Y/N tried to wriggle free of his grip as he steered her towards the counter.

“I don’t think they breathalyse you for skating, Y/N/N, and in fairness, y’did only wake up a little while ago,” Harry laughed.

“You don’t know that they don’t breathalyse you, maybe it’s the same as driving,” Y/N challenged.

“What y’gonna get done for skating under the influence?” he snorted before telling the man behind the counter their shoe sizes and picking up their skates, directing Y/N to a wooden bench where they could kick off their shoes and don their skates. Harry put both their shoes in a locker before he popped his skates on, fastening the buckles before looking at Y/N who had gotten as far as putting her right foot in the left skate and no further.

“Y’gonna need to buckle my skates up, if I bend down, I’ll be sick,” Y/N swung her legs up across his thighs as he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Let’s start with the right skate on the right foot first, hm?” Harry smiled at her softly, before switching skates and fastening them for her. He stood to his feet and held out his hand for her to clasp to get her up, which she did with a groan. “Listen, f’you really don’t want to do it, we don’t have to,” Harry said sincerely.

“No, I do, I’m being dramatic, jus’ don’t laugh when I fall,” she took his hand as they hobbled to the edge of the rink, lingering at the little step down to the ice.

“Wouldn’t dream of laughing, you’re the better skater out of the pair of us, m’sure it’ll be me that stacks it,” Harry took the first step onto the ice, catching his balance with his arms outstretched as he wobbled, the blades trying to find purchase on the slippery surface. Harry let out a grunt as he caught himself when he tried to spin round and felt his left foot slip from under him, “fucking hell,” he panted, finally able to turn on the spot and hold his hands out to assist Y/N down. It was only them and a few families skating round the rink this early on a Sunday, the children clinging on to the little balance tools that looked like penguins. With a deep breath she stepped onto the ice, while clutching Harry’s outstretched hands.

***

“Look at you, m’little hungover figure skater,” Harry praised as they began skating their second loop, albeit a slow one, around the perimeter of the rink.

“Torvill and Dean, eat your fuckin’ heart out,” Y/N giggled breathily, forgetting how much ice skating knocks the energy out of you. Their hands still held each other’s in a death grip as their blades pushed against the ice in smooth strokes. If one went down at this point, the other was going with them.

“Reckon we’re at the point of letting go?” Harry asked, raising their joined hands between them.

“Y’worried I’ve got germs or something?” Y/N asked, focusing on her feet, but trying her hardest to make her voice sound as if she was offended.

“What? No, fuck, no, that’s not it, jus’ thought you might want to skate yourself a bit, not let me slow y’down,” Harry tried to backtrack.

“Baby, m’kidding,” she squeezed his hand while laughing as relief washed his face. “You’re not slowing me down, I’m going slow so I don’t make myself nauseous and end up chucking my breakfast up across the ice, but let’s give this a go, I s’pose,” and with that they dropped their hands and continued skating.

***

It’s ironic, while drunk the alcohol can make you feel invincible and overly confident, as if you could do anything. The hangover the next day, however, seemed to impair you beyond belief, normal human function seems to fall by the wayside when hungover. At least for Y/N anyway. She got a bit more confident while skating, going ever so slightly faster, spurred on when a child lapped them on their loop round the rink. All was going well. She had gotten ahead of Harry, who had slowed down even further to take a few pictures of her gliding across the ice. She looked over her shoulder, catching him taking her photo as she skidded to a stop to wait for him. Her breath surrounding her in clouds of steam as she tried to regulate her breathing. Then, with the twitch of her foot, she was down, flat on her back as if someone pulled the rug out from under her feet all while letting out the loudest shriek her body could muster. It must’ve looked comical, but she can confirm it certainly didn’t feel comical, especially when she heard a little boy whizz past her, with his penguin to keep him upright being pushed in front of him, giggle as she laid on her back, staring up at the sky, hoping the ice would crack down the middle and swallow her whole like a crevasse in a glacier.

“Fuck!” She heard Harry call, “Y/N/N, lovie, you alright?” Harry skated up to her, leaning over her, with his hand outstretched to help her up.

“No, leave me here to melt into the ice,” she whined, screwing her eyes shut.

“Baby, let me get you up, c’mon, are y’hurt my sweet girl?”

“I don’t think so,” she sniffled, “can we get off the ice for a second?” she asked, finally taking his hand as he helped her sit up then get her to her feet as he nodded, helping her off the ice. Luckily, or not so luckily, she fell right by the exit off the ice, so she didn’t have to go very far when she got up with a grunt.

Harry got her sat down on a little bench that was tucked away from view as he perched next to her. “Look at me, are you hurt, is anything even a little bit sore? If it is, I’ll run home and get the car and we’ll go to the minor injury unit or something,” Harry’s hands cradled her face, warming her skin that had gone cold from lying on the ice. He could see the glisten in her eyes as she tried to fight off tears.

“I don’t think so, jus’ cold and my- think my ego is bruised,” she whimpered as Harry pulled her legs back over his thighs, undid her ice skates and removed them as he cuddled her under his arm, close to his side.

“Do you need to cry?” he asked, rubbing her arm with his hand, trying to generate heat with the friction as she shivered under his touch.

“No, m’fine,” she mumbled, shoulders quaking as she tried to hold herself together.

“Y/N,” Harry deadpanned, getting a few sniffles in response, “do you need to cry?” his voice was calm and collected, no hint of judgement evident in his tone.

“Mhm,” she sniffled again before the tears began to flow freely, “jus’ need two minutes to feel sorry for myself, then I’ll be fine, honest” she choked out as she cried into his neck. No loud sobs to be heard, just free flowing tears as she wept quietly.

“I know, s’okay, cry all you need, m’heart,” Harry soothed, letting her tears run their course. Her two minutes of tears was closer to five minutes as Harry’s hands rubbed calming patterns on her body and told her how he bets Vinnie will be sat at their front door, tail wagging, waiting for them to come home so he could have a cuddle with his Mummy.

“Okay,” Y/N took a deep breath, and palmed the last of her tears away, “m’okay now, but I think I’m done with the skating for today, if that’s alright?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t let y’go back on that ice even if you wanted to,” Harry spoke, “unless it was so we could go get the little arsehole who laughed when you fell,” Harry joked.

“Harry, he was like seven, y’can’t threaten children,” she giggled as Harry removed her legs from his lap so he could go collect their shoes from the locker.

“Just because he’s a child, doesn’t make him any less of a little arsehole,” Harry rolled his eyes at the thought of the little devil boy.

“Whatever y’say,” she giggled, Harry happy he was getting more smiles than tears out of her now, as she shoved her feet back into her shoes, “can we agree not to do this hungover again though?”

“Probably f’the best,” Harry agreed, sealing her hand in his as they began their walk home to Harry’s sheer delight, it seemed she genuinely was uninjured.

“Can’t deny it was a little funny how y’fell, it was like someone pulled the rug out,” Harry snorted before he was met with a slap in the chest by his girlfriend.

“I think it’s you that’s the little arsehole,” Y/N gaped, before she burst into a fit of laughter as Harry tried his best to conceal his giggles as he kept picturing her falling.

———

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cannebady · 2 years

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Imagine it's post reunion and everyone is trying to find a new normal.

Ed and Stede are in the early stages of EdandStede and are taking things slowly because there are still tender hurts and they want to do this right.

Izzy, surprisingly, chose to stay, which Ed feels complicated about and Stede is oddly pleased by. Apologies were made, and the whole crew agreed that a big, overarching apology was sufficient. The rest is just time and perspective.

Strangely enough, Izzy seemed to jump at the opportunity for a redo, if not as much with the crew as with Ed and, shockingly, Stede. Something must have shaken loose between Stede's surely ham fisted reclaiming of his ship and now, because Izzy's outbursts are kept to a minimum, occasionally he asks Stede questions and calls him Captain, and he doesn't roll his eyes at single, solitary one of Ed's flights of fancy, regardless of how laden in silk and lace.

Suffice it to say, that there's a fledgling peace on The Revenge that everyone is learning to relax into.

That being said, they're still captained by Stede Bonnet, so if they thought an Employee Appreciation Party was unlikely for an honest-to-God pirate ship that's really on them.

The good news is that Stede lives for pageantry and Ed lives for a good fucking time, so together they've packed the deck with an unbelievable spread, courtesy of Roach, and more booze than is advisable for any number of people to partake in.

There are lights strung up, the flutter of the candles twinkling like their own captive stars and bathing the deck in a gorgeous juxtaposition of cool moonlight and their own warm galaxy. It's intimate, but that feels right.

Frenchie's got a tune going, accompanied by Oluwande and Wee John, and as the bottles get emptier the makeshift dance floor gets busier and Stede's heart is filling in a way he feared it wouldn't again.

He's also a bit tipsy himself, though he thinks he's hiding it well, and he's always rather loved to dance so he's struggling to contain his excitement to foot tapping and swaying in place. Ed, always watching and frightfully good at figuring Stede out, catches the movements and, as if in slow motion, stalks over to Stede with mischief in his lovely eyes.

Before he knows it, Ed's dragged him out onto the dance floor.

Now, let it be said that Stede has spent months watching Ed in every way imaginable and being bowled over by how everything someone does could be so attractive. However, if he had seen Ed's dancing when they'd first met, he may have sung a different tune. Yes, he's gorgeous, he always is, of course he is, have you seen him? But, the man appears to have both a complete lack of rhythm induced by two left feet, chorea, or several dozen biting ants in his trousers. His movements defy the laws of both dancing and physics.

Stede starts laughing, he can't stop laughing because it's Ed and fuck he looks ridiculous, and while he's almost doubled over, he hears an echoing snicker that makes him turn his head.

Ed's flushed and clearly couldn't be fucked about his atrocious moves based on the smile on his face, but the laugh is rough and low and drew his attention as well. It could only belong to one other.

When Stede looks behind Ed, Izzy is biting his own lip to stifle his laugh and looks both embarrassed at being caught laughing at his captain and like he can barely stop himself from laughing harder.

Ed looks at Izzy.

Izzy looks at Stede.

Stede looks between the two of them.

The rest of the crew stares on bated breath.

Then, a snort from Ed has them all giggling. Isreal Hands and Blackbeard himself, giggling of all things alongside the Gentleman Pirate and their rag-tag crew.

It's like the last thread of old is obliterated and Stede feels light as air.

His grin catches Izzy's, then Ed's, and then Frenchie takes the opportunity to slow things down. The tune is melancholy and lovely, and Stede holds out his hand to Ed who accepts with a lovely shy look that does stuff to Stede's insides. The lights reflect off of his whiskey eyes and Stede, not for the first time, is drowning in them.

Ed feels so good in his arms that he can't possibly care about the man's lack of prowess here. He's so warm, and soft, and he smells like shit liquor and salt air and Stede is affected.

As before, Ed's rhythm is nonexistent and he's clearly never done this before. The rum isn't helping and they spend more time clinging to each other, with Ed apologizing constantly for the damage he's doing to Stede's toes, and laughing than they do actual dancing.

They hear someone clear their throat and both turn to see Izzy standing next to them. The sheepish look is foreign on his face but charming in a way that makes Stede's chest warm.

"Edward, let me fucking teach you before Bonnet ends up like me," he rasps out, nodding towards his foot that's down a phalanx. It's so deadpan that Ed doesn't seem to know what to do before he breaks out in a grin.

"Gonna teach me to dance like a gentleman, Iz?" Ed says, rakish grin in place.

Izzy rolls his eyes, "If I can get you not to look like a twat it'll be a miracle." he says but it's good natured.

Izzy grabs Ed's hand, then brings his other around his waist showing Ed how to lead. Seeing them together does Things to Stede. He'd have expected jealousy, but he just feels happy. He feels like there's warm light in his heart trying its damndest to break out and shower itself over them. They just look so good together. Both hard and soft in different places, both intense and lovely and oh dear, Stede really has been slow on the uptake. A jolt of heat and panic runs through him.

Izzy and Ed are laughing and, despite Izzy looking extremely competent, Ed is getting no better, which is sending him into hysterics laughing at himself. Even Izzy is grinning, though with a touch more exasperation.

When Frenchie starts another slow number, Izzy shakes his head and gestures for them to head off to the side. Stede is considering making himself scarce to process his feelings and give them some privacy, when Izzy grabs his wrist much more gently than he'd think him capable of.

"Come on, Bonnet. Let's show him how it's done." and just like that he's in Izzy's arms, leading somehow, through something like a waltz. It isn't one, and it's nothing Stede would've seen in the galas of his youth, but Izzy is very competent and certainly knows his way around a dance floor (and dance partner, good lord).

He spins Stede, somehow leading while following, and Stede is laughing and Izzy's laughing too, making Stede damn near forget about Ed which is shocking considering that Stede even thinks of him while sleeping.

He looks over and Ed's eyes are dark, fathomless, hot. He's tracing their movements, specifically their hands, but it isn't rage or jealousy. This isn't the evaluation of The Kraken. No, this looks a bit more come hither.

Izzy slows to meet Stede where he is, a few strands of hair flopping over his forehead and fuck, Stede wants to tuck them behind his ear. Wants to drag his thumb over his Polaris tattoo and maybe also his lips.

They look from each other to Ed and back, and by some unspoken agreement they follow Ed away from the deck and towards the captain's quarters.

They meet in the hallway outside, and Izzy looks at Stede. "Do you want-" he starts and before he's done Stede's already saying "God, yes".

Izzy looks to Ed and raises an eyebrow. Stede looks at Ed too, letting the question be plain on his face. He feels alive, bold. He reaches out and grabs Izzy's hand, is met with warm calloused and a sharp intake of breath and Ed's dilated eyes.

"Fuck, yes," Ed says before dragging Stede against him, slotting their mouths together and releasing a moan that sounds like it's been trapped for ages.

He releases Stede and gives Izzy the same treatment. Stede is transfixed watching them, the hot press of their mouths, a slick tongue. Stede's still holding Izzy's hand where it's gripped to his.

Ed and Izzy part, both looking overjoyed and relieved.

"I'll just," Stede starts, moving to open the door, but is caught by Izzy who frames his face, looks into his eyes and, with gentleness he couldn't have imagined, brings Stede in for a sweet kiss that turns filthy in seconds.

Ed, shameless as he is, moans openly at them, one hand on each man's waist like he can't possibly stand to be parted from them.

"Inside, fuck, lets go," Ed groans and he grabs them both to huddle them further towards the door, even as their lips break apart prematurely from the rough herding and both look a little dazed from it.

Stede recovers enough to link his free hand with Ed's (Izzy still hasn't let go and neither has he) and pushes the door open.

There's a whole new world waiting for them inside.

#ofmd #our flag means death #Ofmd ficlet #ed x stede x izzy #steddy hands #steddyhands #izzy hands #stede bonnet #edward teach #Blackbeard #Boys kissing #Boys dancing #My fic #Ofmd fic #our flag means death fic

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mimzalot · 1 year

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im a pacifist, but... (Claude von Riegan FE3H)

copied over from twitter - written circa 3H, prior to starting 3Hopes

kinda love that Claude is like "I'm as close as you get to a pacifist route, I like to avoid bloodshed" and his right hand man can kill you six ways from Sunday and left hand lady has a giant axe and can KO u in one hit and his named retainer is a war hero and –

not to get into it but imho this is actually a pretty accurate way of how “pacifism” tends to operate. Claude is the ideological focus but the pragmatic approach demands violence. and there's something to look into re: how Hilda, Lorenz, Judith and Nader carry violence in his stead

I think people get into this when they assess Claude bouncing his ideology off Edelgard's violence because that's essentially it - it doesn't mean Claude facilitates this violence, but of course a pacifist angle doesn't exist without something to oppose. so they work in tandem.

Claude deals in violence too, though I think he manages to avoid too much of it - but the necessary violence doesn't go away, and I'm interested in how it then becomes the responsibility of those in his immediate vicinity. some would call that cowardice. and they do!

on the flipside they could call it a sort of moral integrity that's difficult and must be protected. Claude distancing himself from the violence keeps Claude afloat, and they need Claude to keep his clear leadership. so protecting his integrity by violence is... good, then?

in any case I just love the dynamic of compassionate scheming diplomatic leader sitting at the centre of like five murder machines all willing to throw their lives on the line to protect his vision of peace whew yeah that's the good shit

and the best bit is that Claude is under no illusions, so if you consider that Claude always offers an out, and never wants bloodshed, and sees the inherent value of all people, then you gotta wonder whether he's withering away every time someone dies for his cause. aha! eek!

tis a moral conundrum, no?! he needs to empower people to fight for him even if he's morally opposed to the subsequent fighting. Claude doesn't deal in cognitive dissonance so you can rest assured that the violence he inspires is just as internalised as the violence he commits.

how do you sleep at night when you believe whole-heartedly that violence isn't the answer but have to choose that answer anyway? all the lords say "it's necessary" but the other two seem more inclined to say "and it's right" (whether they believe it fully or not) - Claude doesn't

also interesting to me that Lorenz prefers to avoid bloodshed and Hilda just hasn't really thought about it, because I think both of them need that guidance from Claude to avoid falling into that "necessary righteous violence" angle that war-faring Fodlan has BUT IN DOING SO…

they become frightfully powerful allies for Claude that are capable of all the violence, and also, all the sacrifice. so proximity to Claude's pacifist outlook bolsters your willingness to die for Claude, if you wanna look at it that way. damn LMAO that's rough buddy

Claude inspires you to live! and in doing so inspires you to! uh! die. for him, this time. whew. lucky Claude spent most of his upbringing fortifying himself mentally otherwise this spiritual predicament might just kill a guy's spirit haha hee hoo

and I haven't even started on Byleth, where Claude dumps the task of violence AND leadership. he doesn't feel good about it though. and the cool thing there is that Byleth is arguably not into the idea of needless death either, and is OP enough to handle it... which Claude knows.

I guess this is all surmised by the "yet you participate in society! curious!" comic where just because Claude doesn't like a thing doesn't mean he won't utilise every aspect of that thing because that's the resourceful, productive thing to do when faced with unbelievable odds.

addition: this is coming up a lot in the early chapters of Golden Wildfire where Claude is forced to not only respond with violence but facilitate violence among the unwilling Alliance as retaliation to impending war, which is a little moral paradox that really shows how difficult it is to match up ideals and practice.

similarly, I’m keen to get into the idea that an anti-war outlook is also just tactically sound from where Claude stands in the world, regardless of how he might feel about it. of course an Empire will see war as their tactically sound option, whereas an Alliance cant afford that sort of behaviour. it’s an interesting and ongoing exploration of the strength of moral imperative vs. tactics, and where they intersect, falter, thrive, etc.

really chuffed about this and figure I’ll have more to say about it when we reach the end - but it’s early days! Shez is a fascinating addition to this as the ‘merc that needs violence to thrive’ and I’m primed and ready for more intrigue to come.

#fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #yet again i am forcing myself not to edit my past threads #mimzameta #i realise i shoulda called this a mimzarchive #fe3h #mimzamine

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rose-arwen-padme · 1 year

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Suppression

The forbidden tale of Anakin and Padmé's AOTC courtship. A detailed expansion covering the movie, known deleted scenes, and many new scenes. If George showed 20% of their screen time, this is the other 80%. Told in Padmé's POV with ROTS awareness. Written for the enduring fans of Anidala.

Prologue

I don't possess the Force ability to influence minds, but my time as Queen, as Senator, and as Anakin's obsession has taught me there is power to be found in the consequence of my words.

Scrutinizing outsiders have judged my relationship with Anakin from the beginning. Our tale is like a misunderstood creature in a zoo, the spectators pressing their noses up at us on the glass. They gape with their pointed fingers. They're vocal with their opinions and privileged hindsight of how they would've handled the twists and turns differently.

They're unaware, or uncaring, of the elevated audience rows they hurl their uninvited speeches from.

Such detractors single out the warning signs as bombastic, obvious signs of doom. How resourceful they are at finding fuel for the fires they burn us in. As if blinded by these flames of their own creation, they do not pause to view their kindling as the moments they were as we lived them. What to us was one rough conversation in an endless day— our bodies and minds perhaps taxed from duties, unending travel, or even grief, mixed with natural hindrances like hunger, lack of sleep, etc— or a passing disagreement which was returned to after we'd had a chance to process and re-frame… to them, all of it only became chopped and isolated historical fodder. I imagine it's quite effortless to throw sentiments like stones at these events when you know they are events and understand their future importance.

How nice it must be, to absorb and contextualize simultaneously with the big picture... As the great Master Yoda might say, we had not that luxury.

Stand and judge me. Stand and judge Anakin. Force knows we both deserve it, to various degrees. It's easy to pass down the verdict when you weren't caught up in the wave yourself, hijacked in body and mind by forces beyond your control. We were all of us— and I include Obi-Wan in this— just trying to navigate each day as it came, doing the best we could with the information we had at the time. And so, I'll charge you to remember: Even the combined insight of the mighty Jedi Council never saw this coming. How could I be expected to?

{Are you an angel?}

No one knows the full story— our true story.

In terms of emotional presentation, what is the opposite of a highlight reel?

We were inexperienced, the both of us, and it handicapped us in precarious ways. Regardless, the cliché old adage stands frightfully true— when you know, you know, and Fate does not make allowances for how unprepared you are when It comes. We're told in romantic holomovies and wispy fables that such sudden, deep knowledge of finding your soul's intended sweeps you off your feet, making you dizzy with the butterflies and happy certainty of love.

We lacked such rapturous fortune.

Our recognition of fate came dosed in fear. It was absolute certainty wrapped tightly in nothing but the uncertain on all sides, with no air to breathe. It was the sudden lurch from familiar, solid ground to standing on the edge of a wet precipice, the wind ready to push us over at any moment. So we fought it. I swear it on the barren wasteland of all I hold dear— we did try. We fought it, until we… we couldn't. Until we had no choice but to either forfeit our sanity and suppress, or to give in to the abyss and hope we came out the other side whole.

We chose to hope.

Hope has always moved this galaxy forward. Always will. But in its progression, some get crushed beneath the wheel.

I would never separate my fate from my husband's. However, if I am allowed to speak in my own defense, he was far more prepared than I when destiny reunited us on Coruscant. He'd had a decade to process, to accept, to plan, to commit. I was late to the game. Popular thought seems to be that Anakin was the rash one— the unmanageable wild bull— and I the level-headed stoic. But I can never say enough how much I regret the pain I caused him, and the precious time wasted, as he struggled to stabilize me in the chaos alongside him. He knew we were inevitable from the first moment I stepped foot in Watto's shop. For a man infamously known for his lack of it, his patience as he waited for me to catch up to him was nothing short of astonishing. Albeit, that patience was far from perfect.

This realization of fate for a pair when thrust upon individuals in two very different stages of acceptance of it does not make for an easy-breezy love story. There were milestone moments that didn't play out like the glossy holomovies. Mutual inexperience coupled with raw intensity, making for clumsy actions and unpolished words.

But then there were those magical instances, which, unrestrained from knowing any better and ignited by our hungry want to experience, actually far surpassed possibility.

Those that would label us a toxic cocktail of abruptly rushed feelings and dramatic declarations knew scraps of the story. The closest people around us— the select few who knew— barely understood us, what we were to each other. The Jedi didn't even want to try.

So much has happened to him. To me. To us. I shoulder my share of blame without contest.

But I draw the line at any who would reduce us to shallow caricatures.

We were playful. We teased. We laughed. Oh, how Anakin could make me laugh. We bonded over losses, helping each other through grief. We fought— furiously. We made sacred amends. We peeled back sides of ourselves we hadn't yet shared with another soul. And we desired. Gods, Anakin and I desired like we'd invented it. We burned for each other like two stars going nova under our very skins, a touch both acting as the curative relief and as the explosive trigger for craving more. Professionals in the Red District of Coruscant practice for years to do with their entire bodies what we could do to each other with a single look. 'Boring' was not a word in our relationship's vocabulary.

I've been accused of falling for him too fast, before I really knew him. Such a charge is wrong on two counts. First, I knew exactly who Anakin Skywalker was when I married him. I saw firsthand glimpses of the wraith that would consume him long before most others did— even Obi-Wan. But, just as clearly, I likewise saw the good, the exorbitant amount of light in him that others failed to see. Even Obi-Wan.

And second, I did not fall for Anakin. One does not meet with the life-altering experience which made me feel more alive than anything ever had before and call it a fall. It will be difficult for the hindsight spectators with their superiority complexes to believe, but Anakin brought more excitement, passion, and joy into my life than anything I had ever known. Whether running a planet or a blockade, the nervous energy of addressing the Galactic Senate, or being surrounded in a war zone, it was all paltry compared to the rush I'd feel when his gaze simply met mine across a room. One does not fall for a man, a lover, a— forgive me, but— born pilot like Anakin Skywalker. I flew.

I acutely know this because the fall did come, only much, much later. By that point, the glorious height to which we'd soared became fatal once the descent began.

There are plenty who would have my Ani suffer eternally in hell for his crimes. I am not here to invalidate their reasons, nor to silence their cries for justice. I know what he has done. If they get their wish, my only request is this— let his same flames engulf me as well.

For this angel will gladly burn in hell by his side.

Continued at AO3 Link and Fanfiction.Net Link

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