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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.

#alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons prompt #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders blurb

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Corrupt Angel! Keigo Takami X Demon! Reader- Episode 1/3: The Same Side Of A Coin

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Hey friends.....this is a ride Theres talkings of suicide, sinning, degredation, heaven vs hell and religious themes. You’ve been warned.

Leggo

...

You stood in the middle of the dancefloor, staring around the room. Once a year heaven and hell would come together and host the gala of the century. The Dark One and The Holy One would set aside their differences one day out of the year and host a party bringing both their children together for a huge affair.

Every demon and angel across the nine realms would show up. The beautiful, the ethereal, and the not so beautiful too. You watched as each leader sat respectfully on their thrones.

You watched as The Dark One looked over his people. It was times like this you admired the man. Your soul had mistakenly fallen to the pits of hell when an angel who wouldn’t do their job correctly denied your entry to heaven. You were given special treatment as a result.

The other demons knew you didn’t do anything wrong and they didn’t hold it against you. In fact, the other demons treated you like a kid sister. They never let you near any real demon business.

“Ah, Young Y/N! Come!” The Dark One waved you over. “There’s someone you must meet my child.”

“Yes, Sir!” you gave a thumbs up from the crowd. “Excuse me, Pardon me.” you shimmied through the crowd. You caught the eye of many angels. The other demons spoke highly of you, saying how the feather freaks would be lucky to have you...they were right.

You wore a black gown, with a pretty decorative necklace. Your wrists were decorated in beautiful lace cuffs that matched the rings on your right hand.

“Y/N, my word you look beautiful as ever.” The Dark One praised. “I want you to meet-”

“The Holy One, I know you...my family speaks...spoke-” you corrected yourself. “Highly of you.”

“Y/N, as I live and breathe. Old Goat Face wasn’t kidding.”

“Oh shut up and fix your bedsheet, Cloud Breath.”

You giggled as the two argued like siblings.

“Y/N, I would like to personally apologize. I’m afraid some of my children can be quite...elite about who the let through the gates.”

You remember being thrown down the stairs, falling for a while, then landing next to a lake of lava. Of course that was a while ago.

“It’s okay...not like I was the purest soul in the world anyways.” you shrugged.

“Sin does not define you my child, I’m sure your heart would have landed you here with me had a different angel been working that day.”

That didn’t change the fact that you were booted to hell. No one could change that even if they wanted to.

“Ah! Keigo My boy! Over here!” You watched as The Holy One waves someone over. You kept your eyes on the Dark One.

“How are you holding up, dear?”

“I’m well.” you bowed respectfully. “Sorry for not socializing enough.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear girl. As long as you are enjoying yourself.”

You smiled, about to reply when a new body came into the picture. A tall man, in a black tuxedo strode up to you, the dark, and the holy One. he was obviously an angel from his golden thin rimmed halo hanging above his head of sandy brown hair. Only instead of white wings, his were blood red. They were unlike any you’ve ever seen before. You had never seen a higher level angel before in the flesh.

“Y/N, Triple 6....this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you, man. Don’t let twinkle toes tell you anything about us. Demons aren’t so bad. Y/N here is proof of that.”

“Y/N huh?” you finally met his sharp eyes. His gaze held yours for what felt like an eternity. His smug expression slightly faltered as he stared at you. His lips parted slightly at the sight of you. Never in all his days had he seen such a low level demon hold such a high priestess appearance. “I’m...charmed to meet you.”

“Likewise.” you bowed your head respectfully. You had noticed a few select demons getting near you. All the upper levels seemed to glare at this Keigo person with intense hate and you were positive it wasn’t just because of the color differences.

“You don’t have horns.”

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You have no horns.” he said again, a smirk teasing his lips.

You moved your hair from in front of your forehead to reveal two little bone-ish stubs. They weren’t sharp, nor prominent like the higher-ups. You remembered the others saying you needed horns that fit you just right. They would grow...eventually.

“Hm, Keigo, Y/N...why don’t you two go on the dancefloor?” The Holy One asked.

“With this asshole? No thanks.” you rolled your eyes. “You think just because your higher up than me, you can disrespect me?” you crossed your arms. (Read more below the break)

...

“Disrespect. Dear girl, it was merely an observation!” he looked amused at your anger.

“Don’t you smile at me.” you seethed. “I know a pompous ass when I see it.”

“Y/N, do try and calm yourself.” The Dark One put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it with malice.”

“Come on. What do you say.” he held out his hand. He winked.

“Only because I refuse to say no to a God twice.” you seethed.

Everyone watched as Keigo, wings spread crossed the dancefloor with you on his arm. You obviously weren’t too happy, given your first impression had already down down the drain.

He’d better not touch Y/N if he knows what’d good for him,

Keigo of all people, dancing with a demon doesn’t surprise me.

You tried to ignore the gossip as a hand rested at the base of your spine. Keigo looked down at you, his smugness unwavering as he began move with you to the music. It was a low, slow jazzy tune with what could be described as a ‘sensual piano’ melody.

“I really didn’t mean it the way you took it, doll.” he whispered in your ear. “But you’ve got fire, I respect that.”

“I..I’m sorry.” you sighed. “I’m just...used to people degrading me because-”

“This is so new to you.” he finished, his smile slightly faltering. “I was like that too, thousands of years ago.”

“Well I’m on year two so-” you scoffed. “It’s not that bad...I guess. Hell isn’t as bad as the books say it is.”

“Well heaven isn’t all clouds and rainbows either, doll. I’ve been banished so many times I’ve lost count.”

“Banished? I don’t understand.” you tilted your head to the side.

Keigo could see what was left of your innocent aura hanging around you. Most people who fell into the pits of hell were already long gone with no trace of human emotion or attachment. You...were different. It reminded him of...himself once upon a time.

“I’ve gone rogue. They tried to restrain me but they give keep giving me chances.” he shook his head. “That’s the think about the Cloud Kingdom, dear. They refuse to believe there are bad people in the world.”

“Is that why...your wings are-”

‘No...that’s more of a stylistic choice...can’t let all those souls go to waste can I?” he winked. “Red suits me don’t you think.”

“Y-yes.” you replied honestly, finding it hard to lie.

“So what about you?” he raised an eyebrow. Among the hum of the other patrons and the music, not to mention your demonic heart thumping loudly against your chest you felt Keigo’s breath on the shell of your ear. It was like he was telling you a secret. “What brings you to the pits...killing an ant by accident?”

“My application for the gates was apparently denied.”

“No why would that be.” you don’t look like the type to sin.

“Trust me.” you shook your head. “I’ve sinned more times than I can count...I guess putting a bullet in my head was the last straw.”

Keigo’s breath hitched in his throat as you told your story. You...you shot yourself? Such a small thing? You weren’t a murderer, or god forbid anything else. He felt himself silently fill with rage. You had the glow of an angel that was for sure.

“I’ve come to terms with it. Guess I wasn’t worthy.” you shrugged.

“You are always worthy.” he abruptly cut you off. “It’s these white wear wearing, cloud riding fuckers that aren’t worthy.” he seethed. ‘What other sins could you have possibly committed.”

“...The Dark One hasn’t told you?...I’m a lust demon in training.” you explained. “I used sex to fill voids when I was alive. When I couldn’t replace my pain with pleasure...kapow!” you put your fingers to your head and faked a gunshot.

“Lust demon?” Keigo raised an eyebrow. “That explains why you look so sexy tonight.” he flirted.

“Are you hitting on me?” your eyes widened.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

You hadn’t noticed that Keigo body was flush against yours. Skin to skin. You felt warm, scorching hot beneath him. That was the demon fire.

“Y-yeah.” you nodded. “I do...wow-” you stepped back from him and fanned yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Keigo stepped forward and laced his hands in yours.

“What have you done to our sister?” a high priestess demoness waltzed up. She glared at Keigo who seemed unfazed, only raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Dear are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” your chest heaved. “I feel- so...” you partially moaned.

“What has this angel scum done to our sister.” a male demon stormed up. He unfurled his dragon-esque wings. “Sister Y/N, say something.”

“I need air...I have to go outside.” you immediately walked away. Keigo, in a confused state watched you walk away.

“Sister Y/N is unwell! We must go after her.”

“She’ll be fine, we’ll know if she’s in trouble.”

Call it instinct, but he had to follow you.

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crash-cinematic-universe · 3 years

Text

a beautiful sight

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: peter maximoff is good at getting himself into trouble. you’re good at getting him out of trouble. what happens when you get tired of the same old routine?

warnings: there is angst for a moment and then they just start fucking. language warning and also sexual content warning

notes: this took so long. this took me so long to write. this took me so long to write and i am so sorry about that. this is 4k words long i hope that eases the pain. also i tried to keep the pronouns gender neutral but since they are having sex the reader is written to have “female” genitalia

taglist: @stranger-names @gooseyhouse @parkersdarling @amourtentiaa @toodles-me-doodles @rottenstyx

Your hands gripped the leather steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip, your teeth clenching so hard you feared your jaw would snap. Fat raindrops smashed against the windshield before quickly being swept away by the automatic wipers. Street lamps and stop lights sparkle in the rain, making for a beautiful sight; if you were traveling under different circumstances, you’d probably enjoy the drive. Unfortunately, you were currently being crushed by your current situation, anger simmering within your stomach.

You pulled up in front of the police station, a withering sigh escaping your chest before the car locks popped open. Determined to keep your composure in front of a bunch of cops-- who, admittedly, you were not on the best terms with-- you kept your chin up and expression stoic as you walked through the rain into the main lobby of the station.

The police station was exactly like how someone would expect it to be: the floor was covered with dull white, the walls a similar shade of white. An unsuspecting visitor would be immediately greeted by the uncomfortable and unwelcoming lobby, decorated only with a dying fern in the corner. Four grey chairs sat against the wall, a small wooden side table between them. There were magazines on the table, each one more brain dead and empty than the last. One could only compare reading said magazines to eating only empty calories for their entire lives.

A shell of a receptionist sat behind a large desk across the room, and you walked directly over. This one is new-- you’d been here three times in the past three months, but you didn’t recognize her. She was typing away at a computer, her eyes tired and sunken in. There was a coffee cup sitting next to her, but it looked as if it remained untouched for hours. Sluggishly, she looked up at you.

“How can I help you?” Her voice matched her exterior, a deep fatigue dripping off her words, Obviously, she didn’t want to be there, but you couldn’t really blame her. Who would want to work in such a lifeless place?

“I’m here to pick up my boyfriend,” You sound tired, not as tired as the receptionist, but still tired. She shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Name?”

“Peter Maximoff.”

You catch a glimpse of the receptionist’s name tag, quickly learning that her name is Nicole. She types something into her computer, adjusting her glasses and leaning in slightly.

“Alright, miss, he’ll be out in a few minutes. You can take a seat over there,” Nicole gestured over to the makeshift waiting room and you nodded.

“Thank you,” Like clockwork, you spun on your heel and landed in the uncomfortable chair that had gotten used to your presence.

You hated police stations. They had a certain soul-sucking quality to them; whether or not that quality comes from the poor souls that get thrown behind bars or the pieces of shit that put them there is up for individual interpretation. Police stations reeked of stale coffee and sweat, the occasional police siren cutting through the air every hour or so. The sound alone was hair-raising, especially to someone who landed themselves on the “wrong” side of the law uncomfortably often.

The sound of footsteps approached the double doors to your left, and soon enough Peter walked through them, his hands still bound in handcuffs. The police officer that escorted him out unlocked his cuffs before disappearing back behind the doors, leaving the two of you in the lobby alone. Well, mostly alone. Nicole was still sitting behind the counter, looking as unenthused as ever. Peter rubbed his wrists, his pale skin an angry red where his cuffs constricted them.

He had a black eye, his silver hair messy and unkempt. The Nirvana t-shirt he was wearing was ripped, and dozens of small cuts and bruises littered his body. You already knew he got into a fight, you just didn’t realize how banged up he had gotten. A part of you pitied him. Upon seeing his injuries, you almost allowed yourself to let go of the anger that had been festering inside of you. Somehow, you restrained yourself. Silently, you turned and walked out the front doors of the police station.

“Y/n--” Peter calls after you, an incoming apology hanging on his lips. You got to the car before he could catch up to you, quickly entering the driver’s seat and waiting in silence. Soon enough, Peter clambers in.

“Y/n, I--”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you cut him off, frustration evident in your voice. Wisely, Peter held his tongue. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep recklessly running through the city doing whatever the hell you want. I can’t keep bailing you out, I won’t keep bailing you out.”

“I’m really sorry, doll,” He sounds like he’s being genuine, but you were going to need a lot more than one measly ‘sorry’. “I just… I saw these guys beating up some teenager in an alley. I couldn’t let that slide, and god knows the cops aren’t going to do anything about it. I did what I thought was right,”

“I’m not mad at you for that, Peter. I would’ve done the exact same thing if I was in your position, I’m just… worried. I know you think you need to stand up for the little guys, but you can’t keep putting yourself at risk. I hate seeing you all beaten up like this,” You sighed, taking Peter’s hand in yours. His knuckles were bruised, the new purple splotches decorating his skin. The bruises from the last unfortunate encounter weren’t even fully healed you.

“I swear, this is the last time you’ll have to do this. I promise,” He smiled weakly at you, and somehow, you managed to swallow the fury that had built up inside of you.

“It better be.” You ran your thumb over his injured hand, watching as the dark purple patches disappeared. Thankfully, your mutation guarantees that all of the scrapes and scratches will heal quickly. “Now, let’s go home so I can bandage you up.”

“I’d like that,” Peter smiles softly. His hand remains in yours as he rests his head against the car window, watching other cars whiz by in the rain. The street lights illuminated the sharp angles and delicate curves that made up his face. Even with a busted lip, Peter was still one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the sound of raindrops pattering against the windshield lulling you both. It was late, the sun had long plunged past the horizon and a dusting of stars had appeared in the night sky. You noticed a few constellations as you drove to your apartment, the three signature stars of Orion’s belt catching your eye. A few months prior, Peter had taken you to a large field in the middle of nowhere, the scenery free of the light pollution the cityscape provided. He talked for hours about the stars, going from constellations to the lore behind them to the planets themselves; he even spoke about the star signs. He spoke with such passion, you felt as if you could listen to him talk for hours.

You pulled up in front of your apartment, quickly switching off the car. The rain gradually grows harder as you and Peter scurry up the pathway to the apartment lobby. Peter practically dragged you inside; it was obvious that he was struggling to contain his speed. As it turns out, hiding superpowers is much harder than initially expected. With every mutation-suppressing day that passes, Peter grows more antsy and you grow more anxious.

“You alright, silver?”

“Yeah, I just wanna get home,” he replies, but it’s too quick. He’s too eager to ward off your concern. He’s hiding something.

“Peter, don’t lie to me,” Your words are obviously a warning, but they come out much softer than intended. Peter is visibly unwell-- you can’t believe you hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“Really, I’m fine, it’s no big deal,” It was obvious that he was trying to reassure you and quell your worries, but he was failing miserably. Finally, he surrendered. “Seriously, I’m totally okay. I’m just a little sore and, uh… bleeding,” It’s only then that he lifts up the part of his shirt that hadn’t been torn, revealing a poorly bandaged gash-- you can only assume he got stabbed.

“Oh my god,” You gasped, taking a sharp step forward. “Peter, you-- what-- how have-- oh my god,”

“It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it’s just--”

“It is not okay! Not in the slightest!” You pulled him into the nearest empty elevator, immediately slamming your hand on the button for the fourth floor. Peter looked pale and sickly, and upon closer inspection you realized that he was trembling. Still, Peter managed to smile softly.

“I’m okay, dollface, really,” The elevator dinged, and you practically yanked him out of the small compartment. “Once we get home, you can patch me up, good as new, just like always,”

“Peter, why didn’t you tell me?” You fumble with the keys to your apartment, a metallic jingling punctuating your words. After what felt like a billion years, you finally managed to shove the key into the handle and throw the door open.

Like clockwork, you fell into the routine you’d come to know so well. Peter sat on the kitchen counter, taking off his torn and tattered shirt and waiting patiently for you to come to his aid. You took a sharp left into the bathroom, your knees hitting the floor as you dig through the cabinet under the sink. The glimmering white gloss of the first aid kit caught your eye; within seconds you had yanked it out from between the extra toilet paper and the windex. Although you could heal the worst of the cut with your mutation, you still had to bandage it and disinfect the giant gash.

“Okay-- just try to hold still. You know the drill,” Peter nodded slightly, sharply inhaling as you pressed your fingertips to his pale skin. He leans back on his hands, his eyebrows furrowing as he hisses. The open wound on his abdomen begins to slowly recombine causing blood to gush out of the cut. You’re quick to wash it away with a wet cloth. As extraordinary as your healing abilities might be, they don’t take away the painfulness of any given laceration. For the next minute or so, your beautiful boyfriend is going to be in near agony. Peter’s head falls back as he tries his best to avoid looking at his injury-- he claims it “always makes it worse”.

“We’re almost done, Peter. You’re doing very well,” You soothe, trying your best to make the process as quick as possible. Peter whimpers as the cut closes and the blood flow stops. The skin where the cut closed was still very red and tender, and any sudden movement risks reopening the wound. This one was particularly bad, the severity and depth of the injury dangerous enough to warrant the consideration of double bandaging.

A deep sigh escaped your chest; you were tired of this routine. This awful, never-ending chain reaction that almost always ended with you trying to scrub blood out of your clothes. The police station, the arguments, the cuts and gashes and hushed apologies-- you were just so tired. And you loved Peter, you really did, but he didn’t love himself. He was willing to put his own survival on the backburner at the drop of a hat, and even though he usually came out fine, the thought of him getting hurt was weighing down on you.

“Y/n?” Peter chimes up, his voice pained and gravelly. You hum in response, too occupied with disinfecting the now healed cut to answer with a full sentence. Peter winced every time you pressed the washcloth to his skin. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly, his voice wavering with each brush of the rag. Genuine remorse coated his every word, and beneath the gentle tremors and the sharp breathing, his voice is thick with building tears.

Peter sits up, a strangled grunt forcing its way out of his mouth. He moves slowly, trying desperately not to agitate the healing skin on his stomach. His shoulders slumped over and his head hung low, strands of silver hair falling over his eyes. It’s getting long. You’ll have to cut it later. Gently, you run your hand through his hair and pull his head up so your eyes meet. Some of the tears had spilled over, leaving glistening tracks in their wake.

“I’m so sorry,” He coughed, although it seemed as if he was trying to cover a sob. You pulled him off the counter before wrapping your arms around his waist, minding his injury. His skin is warm and littered with scars. He practically collapses on your, gripping at your shirt like it’s his lifeline. “You do so much for me, and I always end up asking for more. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,”

“Peter, it’s okay--”

“No! It isn’t! You drove all the way across town at midnight to pick me up from the police station, only to immediately find out that I got stabbed and decided to hide it from you,” he stuttered, his grip on you tightening ever-so-slightly. “I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend lately,”

“Hey, look at me,” you softly cup his face with your hand, running your thumb over the fading bruises from past altercations with assholes in alleyways. Peter Maximoff is nothing if not a hero at heart. “Yes, lately you’ve been reckless and it freaks me out. Sure, I didn’t exactly think I’d be spending my Friday night sitting in a police station waiting room. And, yeah, I’d prefer if you didn’t hide stab wounds from me, but you are not a shitty boyfriend. You’re a wonderful boyfriend who happens to have an uncontrollable urge to help others, even at your own expense,” You press a kiss to his forehead, brushing the hair out of his eyes once again.

“I just don’t want you to get tired of me,” Peter’s voice is quiet and vulnerable, hesitancy hiding between the syllables.

“Me? Tired of you? Impossible,” you enthused, reveling in the slight smile that cracked on Peter’s porcelain face. “I just hope you don’t get sick of my constant worrying,”

“You know I could never,” A grin grew on his face, and suddenly the sadness and the tension in the air was replaced with content. Peter looked at you with admiration, and within seconds his lips were on yours.

Any remnants of the anger you once felt was snuffed out like a dying candle. Your head felt warm and fuzzy as Peter’s hands found their way to your hips. If someone were to tell you that Peter had a secret secondary mutation that granted him the power to subdue any person just by kissing them, you’d believe them wholeheartedly. There was something about the way he leaned against you, encapsulating you in a tight embrace as every aspect of personal space was thrown out the window. You’d call it intimacy, but it seemed like so much more than that. Sometimes words aren’t heavy enough to describe what you felt for Peter, and what he felt for you. That’s alright, though. You do what you can with the words you have.

Your silver-haired companion takes a tentative step forwards and you proceed to follow his lead, walking backwards until your back hits the wall. He huffs, pulling away from you for a split second so he can whirl you around; Peter always preferred to be the one against the wall, for lack of a better analogy. It didn’t take a genius or a prognosticator to see where this was heading, and judging by the eagerness behind his movements, Peter could see it too.

Hesitantly, you push him away from you for just a moment. His chest rises and falls in a brisk rhythm as he rests his forehead against yours. You’re still pressed against his chest, and he’s still clutching you like you’re some sort of flight risk. Almost instinctively, you run your hand through his shimmering silver hair.

“Peter, less than ten minutes ago you were lying on my counter with an open wound. Are you sure you’re feeling up for this?” A wide smile grew on Peter’s face, and with each passion second you could see his signature cocky stature returning. You knew it wouldn’t last much longer, but hey, might as well let him enjoy it while it’s there.

“You fixed me up pretty well, dollface,” Peter pecks you on the cheek and a momentary chuckle escapes you. “I feel better already,”

“Alright, if you say so,” You grab him by the collar and pull his lips to yours once again. The kiss was eager and needy-- Peter melted beneath your touches, just like always. You ran your hands over his bare skin, reveling in the shutters and shivers that ran up his spine. He pulled you closer, almost as if he thought you’d disappear if he let go. Gently, you raised your arm and began to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, accidentally tugging on the silver strands.

This seemed to set something off in Peter, and in the blink of an eye you found yourself lying on your bed with him hovering over you. His lips were on your neck in an instant, leaving a trail of soft kisses that led all the way down to your collarbone. You could feel Peter’s warm hands snaking under your shirt, tentatively caressing your skin. Although you’ve done this a thousand times, he was still incredibly focused on making sure you were enjoying the interaction as much as he was.

You spurred him on in the most obvious way possible; by pulling him back up to your face and flipping him over, swinging your leg over his hips and resting your hands on his bare chest. This position oh-so-conveniently happened to result in your knee pressing directly against Peter’s crotch. You’re quick to replace your knee with your hand, gentle palming him through his impossibly tight jeans. He swallows back a groan, his teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to break his skin. You’re quick to reach up and wipe away the blood that formed on his lip, a smirk growing on your face.

“Careful, pretty boy. Wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself any more than you already have, now, would you?” The sudden use of his favorite pet name sent shivers down Peter’s spine, his heart rate steadily increasing with every second that passes. You quickly unbutton his jeans before pulling them off, dragging your nails down his thighs as you do so. Before you had the chance to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, he managed to use his mutation to flip you onto your back. His hands pinned your wrists to the mattress, a smirk stuck on his face.

“Y’know, you really do take great care of me,” Slowly, Peter starts making his way down your body. There’s something about how the light hits his face, casting shadows over his sharp features that make him look like some sort of greek god. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops along your waistband, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second. “I think it’s about time I take care of you,” With that, Peter fluidly tugs off your jeans, discarding the rest of your clothing before settling between your thighs. He rests your legs on his shoulders, his hot breath fanning over your cunt and sending shivers up your spine. The feeling of light kisses on your thighs catches your attention and frustration spreads throughout your chest. You reach down and tug on Peter’s hair, whining in reaction to his ceaseless teasing. He looks up at you through his eyelashes with a cocky smirk growing on his face. After one last sultry look, Peter lurches forward and buries his face in the apex of your thighs.

A low moan escapes you as a soft string of praises falls from your lips. The grip you held on his hair tightened as Peter’s tongue circled your clit, sending white-hot waves of pleasure through your body. He pulls his hand off your thigh and immediately buries two of his fingers inside of you. Your head was scrambled, any semblance of coherency that you once had flying out the window with each jerk of Peter’s hand.

“Fuck, Peter,” You moaned just a little too loud. Just when you were regaining some sense of composure, the earth-shattering feeling of rapid vibrations ignites every nerve in your body. The combination of Peter’s vibrating fingers buried inside of you and the feeling of his lips working at your clit was just too much, and within seconds you were spasming around his fingers and calling his name.

You can’t bring yourself to form words, instead opting to pull him back up to your lips. All either of you could do was grab at each other, desperately trying to pull the other closer than you already were. Peter practically tore off whatever clothing that got in his way, leaving the both of you completely bare. With one last glance up at your face, he waited for confirmation before pushing his cock inside of you.

It was as if everything fell into place, the feeling of fullness and passion sending electricity through your body. You hooked your leg around his side, pulling him deeper inside of you as his thrusts fell into a steady rhythm. His pounding was relentless, his chest heaving with every jerk. Peter’s name fell from your lips like a mantra as he punctuated your words with deep thrusts.

“S-So good, Peter,” Your words are slightly slurred as you look up at his face. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration; long, low moans fell from his swollen lips, and for a moment, it felt like music to your ears. “Such a good boy for me,”

Peter whimpered and his movements faltered; in one final act of defiance, you used your leverage to flip in around once more. You anchor yourself on his chest before rolling your hips against his, watching Peter’s eyes roll back as you begin bouncing on his cock. A string of senseless noises and incoherent ramblings fall from his lips as he thrusts his hips upwards to meet your movement. His nails dig into your hips so hard that it hurts-- you can’t exactly blame him.

“Y-Y/n, please,” Peter begged helplessly, tears building in his eyes. He didn’t know exactly what he was begging for, but he begged regardless. The feeling was so much; it was everything at once, and it was so good he almost couldn’t take it. “P-please, please...” He trailed off.

One slight adjustment resulted in Peter slamming into your sweet spot, causing your moans to get damn near screams. Your nails left angry red trails on Peter’s chest, taking their place amongst the countless hickies you left behind before. Then, in a beautiful amalgamation of moans and whimpers and screams, you and Peter came in unison. He snapped his one last time before throwing his head back, emptying himself deep inside of you.

You watch Peter’s face intently, his eyes fluttering closed and his hair sticking out in every direction. He was practically glowing; completely blissed-out with a golden halo hanging over his head. A soft smile played about his lips as he began to finally catch his breath-- it’s only now that you see the dozens of little marks you left on his body. An odd sense of pride filled your body and for a moment you felt like an expert artist admiring your latest mural.

Slowly, you pulled yourself off of him, collapsing to his side and exhaling deeply. He immediately wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Peter is practically radiating warmth, a strong sense of comfort settling over you and you gently trace his collarbones.

“I love you, y’know that?” His voice is quiet and dripping with fatigue; it’s music to your ears.

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell,” You joked. Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes before resting his head on top of your shoulder. “Seriously, though, I love you too. Nerd.” He seemed satisfied with that response, nuzzling his face further into your touch.

Rain softly drummed against the windows, light from the moon and from the city skyline reflecting off the droplets like a billion multi-colored stars. Peter had drifted off to sleep, the gentle glow from the outside world making him look like an angel that fell out of the sky and into your bedroom. Your eyelids grow heavy, and as you succumbed to the influence of a deep sleep, you kept your eyes trained on Peter’s face. He truly was a beautiful sight.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #xmen #wandavision

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (2)

Autumn Serenade

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

Many hours later, the door clicked closed, and Marinette sat up straight in attention. “Adrien?”

“No girl, just me,” said Alya. “Did you sleep at the table all night?”

Sunlight poured in the window.

“I guess I did.” Marinette rubbed at her eye, smearing her mascara. “What time is it?”

“Morning time. Almost 8. I’m surprised Sunshine isn’t still here. I have expected to catch you both cuddling on the couch together. Did you just…fall asleep at the table?”

Marinette didn’t answer, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Marinette?”

“He bailed on me. Ghosted me. Not even a text.”

“He what!?” She shrieked. “Why that dumb little—“ Alya whipped out her phone, and called someone, putting them on speaker.

“He didn’t answer me, Alya, don’t even try.”

Instead, Nino’s voice spoke over the line. “What did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget anything! It was that Best Man of yours!”

“Adrien? What did stuffed-with-fluff forget?”

“He forgot Marinette!”

“Marinette? He ghosted her!?”

“Yes! He never showed! And he’s not answering any calls, so you better get a good excuse from him! He better be dead or in the hospital, or I’ll put him there!”

“Alya…” Marinette said weakly. “I’m sure he has a good excuse…”

“I’ll call him,” Nino promised. “I’ll figure this all out. He’s a good boy, I know he wouldn’t just…not call.”

“I want to believe that too,” Alya said with pain in her voice.

Then, Marinette’s phone rang, and she hurriedly answered it, not looking at the number. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Nathalie.

“Oh, good morning.”

“I’m calling to inform you that next week, you’ll be working from the office all week. Mr. Agreste is…feeling unwell.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know. By chance, is Adrien there?”

“No.” And without anything else, Nathalie hung up.

“Rude,” Marinette muttered to herself. “Something smells fishy.”

Nino called back a minute later. “I can’t get a hold of Adrien either. He’s not answering his phone.”

Alya frowned, arms crossed. “Fishy indeed.”

“Well, he can’t avoid me forever. I am Gabriel’s intern, so I’ll corner him sometime.” Then a horrible realization came over Marinette. “Oh god, he didn’t actually ask me out!”

“What? Did you daydream this whole thing?!”

“No! He asked me if I wanted to have dinner, and he said he had something important he wanted to tell me! But he never clarified that it was a date! I kissed his cheek! What if he panicked!? Alya, this is my fault!”

Nino laughed from the other end of the line. “Dude, this is so not your fault. It sounded like a date to me. He still owes you an explanation. Regardless of what type. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Nino’s got it right, Marinette. You didn’t do anything wrong. When he stops being such a butthead, he’ll come groveling. I promise.”

“Yeah, well, we can only hope.”

Through the trees

Comes Autumn with her serenade

Melodies

The sweetest music ever played

Autumn kisses we knew

Are beautiful souvenirs

A whole week of silence was torture. Marinette continued to go to work, and put on her big girl pants and acted like everything was fine. Gabriel only communicated to her through emails, and she was unanimously thrust into the leadership role in his absence.

It was frustrating, annoying, and stressful, since she was not prepared to become CEO overnight. By the end of the week, she had run herself ragged. Fueled by coffee and fear of failure, she wrapped up her last project for the evening, and went back to the apartment.

There, blessedly, Alya and Nino greeted her with hugs and leftovers.

“Rough day?”

“Rough week! Mr. Agreste has been basically AWOL, and I’m the one filling in! He doesn’t answer my phone calls or texts, and answers my emails an hour after the fact. I’m exhausted!”

“And Nathalie didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope, she’s sealed up tight. Apparently, Gabriel is sick. But I can’t get any news about Adrien. Honestly, I’m about one mental breakdown away from breaking down the gates and demanding answers.”

Alya chuckled. “No need to be so drastic, Marinette. Maybe both of them got the flu, and Nathalie is forbidding them from doing anything but resting. You know how strict she is.”

Marinette kicked off her shoes and leaned her head back on the couch. “I know, I know, and you’re probably right. It might be best if I come up with a plan in case this ever happens again. Specifically Gabriel getting sick, not Adrien being a coward.”

“It’s weird though,” Said Nino. “Adrien’s always been overly considerate. Even after all this time, he still asks too many questions about social faux pas. For him to just ghost you, for a whole week even; it’s concerning.”

Marinette had tried not to think like that. Adrien being awkward and scared was so much easier to stomach than something tragic befalling him.

And yet, if it had, wouldn’t she know by now?

She took out her phone, and called Nathalie, much to the curious gazes of Nino and Alya.

“Hello Marinette.” The woman greeted, as stoic as ever. “I was under the impression that you were done for the night.”

“I am. I just...haven’t heard from Adrien all week.”

“With Gabriel ill, Adrien has been busy, much like you. It wouldn’t surprise me that social calls would fall to the wayside.”

“I was just...worried. Is he there?”

“Yes. He’s fine.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s asleep. He’s had a hard week. You’ll see him Monday, as Mr. Agreste wants you working at the manor.”

“Oh, okay then. I guess...thank you, Nathalie.”

“You're welcome.” The call ended.

“So he’s not dead in a ditch.” Marinette announced. “Nathalie said he’s asleep. And I’ll see him Monday.”

Nino frowned, though he didn’t say anything.

It was just...odd.

As I pause to recall

The leaves seem to fall like tears

Silver stars

Were clinging to an Autumn sky

Monday morning, Marinette went over to the mansion. She rang the bell, and the gates opened. She crossed the quiet drive, the gates shutting behind her, and approached the door.

There was usually someone there to open it to greet her, whether it was Nathalie or the Gorilla. Not this time.

Marinette took hold of the handle and opened it herself, for the first time ever. She didn’t think they would mind, if the gate opened.

“Hello?” She called. “Nathalie?”

The lights in the foyer were off. And despite the large windows beside her, dark shadows hung in the corners like cobwebs.

The house felt empty. Cold, and dark. The manor had always been cold, of course. It was picture perfect, sterile and modern minimal. But today it felt worse. Noticeably worse.

If this is what it felt like at night when she went home, it was no wonder Adrien hated it here.

The doors to Gabriel’s office were closed, and she approached, knocking gently.

“Come in.” Said Nathalie’s voice.

She was at her desk, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. “Good morning,” she greeted.

“G-good morning.” Marinette nodded. “I’m just letting you know I’m here. You usually greet me at the door so...”

“You’ve been here long enough, I didn’t think such formalities were necessary.”

“They aren’t! It’s fine, totally fine. Just...unexpected is all. Is Gabriel still ill?”

“A bit. He may come down, but he may not. I will field all questions.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She prepared to leave, but asked. “Is Adrien home?”

“He’s working in his room. He’s very busy.”

Marinette just nodded, and went to her own office down the hall.

It was a smaller room, used to belong to Emilie. Gabriel was very specific about how things were kept. The desk was Marinette’s, but everything else was Emilie’s. The bureau in the corner, the little settee, the curtains, it was all her design. Emilie had good taste, thankfully, and so the room was fine the way it was.

Even with the light off, this room didn’t have that oppressive weight in it.

She could relax, however slightly, and get to work.

It was hard to concentrate on work when all she wanted to do was storm upstairs and demand answers from Adrien. At this point, she definitely felt like she deserved them. Date or not, she deserved a little closure as to what had happened, and why he had never followed up.

In all likeliness, it would probably just be, “my phone died, and then I forgot to text you back.”

But Nino’s comment about Adrien’s extreme consciousness really nagged at her.

Before she knew it, it was time for her lunch break, and she took her sack lunch with her to Gabriel’s office.

He still hadn’t come down, but Nathalie was there.

“Nathalie? I’m taking my lunch now. Do you think I could visit Adrien?”

The woman stopped her work and screwed up her lips, an expression Marinette had never seen on her before. She seemed to be thinking much too hard.

“I will go see if he is able to handle company.”

“Tell him I don’t want to bother him, and we don’t have to talk. I just want company.”

Nathalie nodded, and stepped out of the room. Marinette followed across the foyer, before Nathalie harshly told her, “wait here.”

She ascended the stairs to Adrien’s room.

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

Marinette never had to wait. Since working in the same house, they had developed a pretty open door policy. He was allowed in her office anytime, and likewise, she was allowed in his room, though she usually knocked first. Young men and all.

But this was the first time anything like this happened. Was Nathalie just paranoid about her getting sick too? Or her getting Adrien sick?

Was Adrien still ignoring her, and let Nathalie in on it?

What had she done to warrant this reaction?

Finally, Nathalie came out of the room.

“Adrien can see you for a little bit. But he’s busy, so try not to distract him.” Her tone was stern, in a way that made Marinette instinctively curl into herself. A sternness like she was in trouble.

Seriously, what did she do?!

She climbed the stairs, and approached the door, knocking slightly. “Adrien?”

“Please come in,” his voice called back.

When she entered, she noticed the lights were out. He sat in his computer chair, facing her completely, sitting rigidly, and smiling.

It was the fakest smile she’d ever seen.

She sighed. “Relax. I’m not mad.”

He blinked. “You…aren’t?”

“I mean, I’m a little confused. Why didn’t you show?”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I think I’m the one that’s confused. What are you talking about?”

She scoffed. “Last week? We were going to have dinner? You never showed or called?”

“Oh. I…forgot.”

“It was your idea!”

“I…was sick. And I fell asleep. Yes. What day?”

“Friday night.”

His eyes widened. “Oh yes. That is exactly what happened.”

She sighed as she sank into his couch, and opened her lunch. “I understand. I really do, but next time, could you return my calls? I spent a whole week in silence from you.”

“Nathalie confiscated my phone.”

This made her chuckle. “Okay, that’s an ironclad excuse.”

He smiled, again, so fake.

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“Tell you? I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me.”

“Well yeah, but on Friday. You asked me to dinner and said you wanted to tell me something.”

He spun around in his chair to look at his computer. He scrolled through a document, and then turned back to her. “I don’t remember, I’m afraid. This past week has been…a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth.”

“What were you sick with?”

His eye twitched. “Uh, cancer.”

“WHAT?!”

“Too severe? Strep throat then. Pneumonia. Bronchitis.”

“You could just say you don’t know instead of giving me a heart attack, you know.”

“Apologies.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Talking how so?”

“Like, really proper.”

“Is it not how I usually talk?”

“Not when we’re alone…”

He screwed up his lips. “Hmm. My bad. Too many period dramas while I was sick, I suppose.”

She laughed. “Oh my gosh, like when we binged Sherlock together, and we couldn’t stop talking with British accents?!”

He grinned. “Precisely. Just like that.”

“Man, had I known you were sick, I would have brought you some soup and given you company.”

“Nathalie wouldn’t have let you.”

“I know. It just kills me to think that you were alone all week.”

“It kills you?” He looked horrified.

“Yeah…I know you get lonely…sorry, I’m prying again.”

He shook his head. “Just…the phrasing caught me off guard.”

Marinette noticed from the moment she walked in, he had only once glanced at his computer. She was being a distraction, just like Nathalie had asked her not to.

“Well, I heard you were busy, so I’ll finish my lunch in my office. But, we’re good right?”

“What?”

“Like, you aren’t mad at me for anything? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No, you did nothing wrong. We’re great friends.”

“Good!”

Something was wrong.

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

She walked to him and kissed his temple, like he always appreciated, and she spared a glance at the computer screen.

She only got a glimpse of the first line.

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste.’

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #the ghost of Smokey Joe #ladybug #chat noir #ghost story

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jihyuncompass · 4 years

Text

RFA+V+Saeran with a sick MC

I realize this concept has been done to death by this point but I really wanted to take a shot at it, I’m still learning how to write headcanons and find my own style so I hope you enjoy!

Zen/Hyun

This man doesn’t get sick are you kidding?

Not only does Zen heal at an inhuman speed but despite drinking and smoking frequently he has the immune system of a God.

So when you’re sick he isn’t super familiar with all the remedies and things to do when someone is sick.

One thing he is good at though is giving you attention and affection.

Need some cuddles? All you have to do is ask and he’s all over you.

Doesn’t like seeing you sick and unhappy but he does like how cute you look when you’re asleep curled up with a blanket on the couch or in bed.

Makes you some tea to help soothe your sore throat and holds you close while you drink it.

He’ll feel extraordinarily guilty if he has to leave you to go to rehearsal or a show but expect for him to come back and immediately give you hugs and kisses to try and make up for his absence.

He loves you so much and isn’t scared of getting sick himself. So expect him to be just as affectionate with you as you would be in full health.

Yoosung

He kinda knows what to do to help you?

(He calls his Mom)

Makes you some soup that his mom would make him when he wasn’t feeling well.

Obviously buys you medicine, he doesn’t have a lot of money but he’ll get the store brand stuff that hopefully will be just as effective.

Encourages you to rest by watching him play LOLOL

It’s pretty fun to watch you can’t deny that.

He’s kinda afraid of getting sick himself so he’s careful around you. He spends a lot of the time that you’re sick cleaning.

However he can’t help cuddling with you a little bit, even if it puts him at risk.

He’s not the best at taking care of someone who isn't feeling well but he genuinely tries his best to help you feel better and comfort you at the same time. He’s inexperienced but always has his heart in the right place.

Probably gets the same sickness after you. Now it’s your turn.

Jaehee

Jaehee gets sick, but she doesn’t have the time to be sick so she is the type to take a dayquil and then get to work.

Even after she stops working at C&R and starts her cafe she still is really bad about taking sick days for herself.

However that isn’t going to fly with you, Jaehee isn’t going to allow you to become a slave to capitalism that she already is.

When you wake up with a sore throat and a coughing fit so bad that you can barely catch your breath, Jaehee is next to you patting your back until you're coughing fit subsides.

She makes you a hot mug of tea.

Considering she owns a cafe the tea she makes is definitely the best cup of tea you’ve had in your entire life.

She decides to close the cafe for a day to take care of you so that means you get Jaehee all to yourself :)

Musicals all day long, you start working through Zen’s entire musical career while you cuddle together on the couch.

She definitely tries not to get sick herself but you may notice her sniffling a few days later.

Jumin

Kind of a mix of Jaehee and Zen, he doesn’t get sick often and when he does he will do everything in his power to try and hide it.

As we all know Jumin is rather protective over you so the second he notices you coughing or your voice sounding raspy his personal private doctor is called and on his way.

Doesn’t matter if it’s a minor stomach bug or something more serious, with Jumin it is taken extremely seriously.

The chef makes the best meals for you, if he has to go to work then he’ll have the best in-home care nurse come and look after you while he’s gone.

Though he would feel much more comfortable staying home with you and tending to you himself no matter how long it takes (Sorry Jaehee :( )

You’re given the best medicine money can buy, and the best husband in the world so even if it takes a while to feel better you can’t complain too much.

Jumin is a careful man so he doesn’t get sick after you, it’s honestly kind of impressive.

Seven/Saeyoung

Surprisingly good at taking care of you.

He did have to take care of Saeran when he was sick as a little kid so you guess he has some experience.

You’re stuck in bed the entire time you’re sick. Don’t even think about getting up.

If you do Seven’s right there bringing you back and insisting you rest. He’s watching you through the CCTV cameras he keeps in the bunker. He knows.

Can’t cook for shit but he’ll try.

And then he’ll ruin whatever he tries to make so he ends up calling Vanderwood for help.

He’s very gentle with you he’ll get you anything you need, spend as much time as possible with you, and if he’s stuck working and can’t be with you directly he’ll build you a robot to keep you company.

On a joking note he’ll definitely bring you all your food, medicine, and drinks wearing either his maid outfit or the brand new nurse one he bought just for occasions like this.

(He looks great ngl)

He’ll only respond to you if you call him “nurse” just to tease you.

Very good at keeping your spirits up when you aren’t feeling your best. He’ll probably get sick after you too but it doesn’t matter to him.

V/Jihyun

Activate worried Jihyun mode

V notices that you’re sick pretty quickly.

If you try and insist that you’re fine, you don’t need to rest, you don’t need to take the day off. He isn't going to force you to lay down.

He will however give you his saddest, most concerned expression that makes your heart break into a thousand pieces so you voluntarily get back in bed.

V gets sick the normal amount any person does. He’s usually down for a couple days but then he’s right back at it. He hopes you’re the same way.

This man can’t handle seeing you unwell for long.

Would definitely work from home to look after you.

In general he’s very doting, he’s willing to go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you’re taken care of.

Makes you lots of cups of tea and makes you drink a lot of water to help you feel better

He tends to worry about overstepping your boundaries so if you want cuddles or any kind of physical affection you’re going to need to ask him for it.

But once you do he’ll be by your side immediately, rubbing your back, cuddling with you or anything you want.

He might get sick after you but if he does you’ll take good care of him like he did for you.

Saeran

Saeran is no stranger to being sick, as a kid he was sick a lot and after continuous use of Elixir while at Mint Eye his immune system is pretty bad.

He’s used to being sick but he absolutely hates it when you are.

He feels useless just seeing you coughing and shivering and not being able to do anything about it.

He’ll cook you anything he can think of that would help you feel better, hot soup with fresh herbs, hot tea and juice, homemade bread, anything he can think of he’s making for you.

He knows that logically he should keep his distance because he’ll definitely get sick if he stays too close to you but he can’t be away from you for long.

In general he isn’t one to initiate any physical affection and the same goes for when you’re sick. You need to tell him what you want, and that it’s okay for him to be close to you.

While you’re sick it’s hard not to notice Ray peeking out a bit, that anxiousness, the worry, the shyness.

No matter how anxious he is he’ll push through it for you, you’re his prince(ss) after all.

183 notes · View notes

peachy-inserts · 4 years

Note

HCs for Todoroki, Deku, and Bakugou on their reactions when their (s/o) is ill, but trudges through their ailment to support these guys (despite the boys’ protests not to) in the Sports Festival and passes out in the audience due to the illness and fatigue, resulting in quarantine, please?

Sorry for the wait! God… you can really tell I don’t write for Bakugou enough by how off topic I am. I just have so much to say about this lovable dick that I don’t typically have the opportunity to

Warnings: Cursing

Midoriya:

When you first began to show symptoms of sickness, Deku became a worrying mess and found himself slacking off on training despite the sports festival being so soon

Not that he really needed it, but it’s Deku

Like I said before, he’s a total worrywart. We know this about him! No matter what it is, he is an absolute anxious mess. You’d better not tell him that you came out to watch him anyways!

He knows how much it means to you, and while you got good seats as a result of being in general studies, you could always watch it from home! It was broadcasted nationally, and it’s not like you would miss anything; they did a pretty good job covering all of the details!

We’re gonna go with the scenario where you don’t tell him you came out to support him, because if you did he simply wouldn’t participate until you caved in. Deku is a chaotic force of good and more importantly, incredibly fucking stubborn. I know he’s a sweet boy, but good God he does NOT take no for an answer. Kid doesn’t listen for absolute shit!

In the middle of the festival, he notices a little bit of a commotion in the crowd but shrugs it off; he’s gotta make sure he impresses you, since you’re supposedly watching him on the television!

It’s not until afterwards that he hears about it, being informed that you’ve been put on quarantine as well

Let’s just say he is heartbroken. More than anything, he was looking forward to coming back to the dorms to pay you a visit and relax after a long, tiring day. With the sports festival off of his chest, he can take care of you without being so stressed about it… Except, that’s not the case

Since you’re contagious, you’ve been sent to your own house. That way the sickness doesn’t spread, and you can be properly taken care of

As soon as he gets permission to, he is on his way! ...Only to be greeted at the door by a family member who shoos him away, since you are quarantined after all

Deku would (impatiently) wait it out with you, trying to make it as easy as possible. He’ll run to all of your teachers collecting work, and even try to do some of it for you. He does spend a lot of time studying, after all, so you don’t have much to worry about

He had the next two days off after the tournament to recuperate and rest, which was spent almost entirely on FaceTime with you, showing you his new injuries (we all know it happened, the boy has no rationality), trying to help you with your makeup work by the tutoring the best way he can, and fawning over your tired but loving expression. Actually, mostly just that last part

Delivery man Deku! He’d pick up all of your favorite snacks, candies, and bottled drinks, then deliver them personally to your house. Being shooed away the last time though, he opts to leave them in a woven basket with a poorly tied bow and a note in the bottom, which is just for you

Todoroki:

While he would be worried about you, he ultimately believes that it’s your decision on what you do. If you wanna come to the sports festival and watch him he won’t stop you, but he can at least try and persuade you by telling you just how he feels about it

That’s not to say he isn’t disappointed, though. Like Deku, he wouldn’t know that you had passed out until after the festival; either because he’s so focused or even because he’s just too dense. It could even be a combination of both, knowing him

Shouto would be quick to chastise you, almost akin to Bakugou in the way he wastes no time in telling you just how you fucked up. However, he’s still timid and suffers from commitment issues stemming from insecurity and his upbringing. He’s just as quick to apologize, sighing and wishing you get wells from the bottom of his heart

The sports festival is long off of his mind by now; to be honest, he didn’t really care about it in the first place. Whether or not you saw it is beyond him, although he appreciates the thought

He knows better than to try and come see you while you’re quarantined, but he doesn’t really give two shits. If he gets sick that’s his own problem, so he won’t stand for being denied time with you; he’ll at least take precautions and wear a mask, though.

Besides, you’re in this situation because of him. Even though he stands by his stance on this being your choice, he still feels deep down like it’s his fault

Shouto is sort of the awkward type in this stage of your relationship, so he won’t necessarily go out of his way for you. He’d gather your work for you since he’s still at the school, but if he’s unwelcome in your home due to the sickness he won’t fight it or show up again.

Still yet though, he misses you and is worried more than he would like to admit. Lots of random calls and texts from him

He would spend all day looking for those cutesy heart edits and sending them to you, or finding shitty memes and teasing you over them, saying it reminded him of you

ONE MORE THING: He’s sappy as shit, and being inexperienced and sort of isolated from society in a way (he didn’t even know what a concert was) he’d try and stick to cheesy romantic ideals. This man would write you a whole ass poem to give to you with some chocolates whenever you returned to the dorms, waiting on your bed

Bakugou:

The most assertive in telling you to stay home. He’s hyper aware of your sickness and how it spread, but most importantly aware of how badly it’s going to affect you. Let him catch you coming anyways and he’ll kill you

Because he’s so knowledgeable on the topic, he’s easily the most worried by far. It’s not that he’s scared for your safety so much, but more so your general wellbeing. Katsuki is miserable whenever he’s sick, so the thought of you going through the same thing is almost agonizing for him

He acts like a total mom and you can’t change my mind on this. Also, I don’t agree with fanon Bakugou being arrogant and hateful towards his s/o. This man is putty in your hands, and although he acts annoyed at times he prioritizes making sure that you’re comfortable and know how he truly feels. He’s always had trouble communicating his feelings because of his relationship with his mother (we all love her but I will die on this hill) and as a result of it, is honestly terrified of fucking up and losing you by being too closed off

Anyways though, back to the point: he would be a total mom when you’re sick! Bossing you around, don’t do this, eat this, breathe some of this in, here, have some tea- It’s honestly exhausting having to listen to whatever miracle cure he’s concocted for you next, but you know he at least means well. He really does go above and beyond for his s/o, especially when they’re unwell. The most important part in a relationship to him is being able to lean on each other when you can’t stand up on your own, and by God he’ll carry you for as long as you need him to. Literally and figuratively

I know I’m going off on a tangent but I just have so much to say about my interpretation of Bakugou: he’s the boyfriend who insists on trying to fix all of your problems instead of just listening to them, and it’s one of the most frustrating things

ALSO BAKUGOU DOES NOT, CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, CALL HIS S/O NAMES LIKE ‘IDIOT’ AND ‘BASTARD’. HE DRINKS HIS RESPECT (WOMEN) JUICE

Katsuki is very intuitive; even though you most likely lied about staying home to get him off your ass, it doesn’t take long for him to know that you’ve come anyways, and HOOOO BOY is he pissed (not that he’d ever take that aggression out on you, though. He’ll save that for the finals)

His head is swirling throughout nearly the entire tournament, and he’s thrown completely off of his game. On a typical day, he’d be trying to show off for you and flexing whenever he can while flawlessly demolishing his opponents, but this time he only makes it into the top ten

He can’t stop stealing glances into the stands, his mind wandering into the empty seat beside you and dying to know whether or not you’re okay, all while absolutely fuming. More than anything, he’s mad at himself. It’s been proven to us time and time again that he tends to blame himself for things, and takes it way too personally, to the point of being self destructive as a result of a sweltering, nasty inferiority complex

Immediately after the tournament, when he’s released and free to head back to the dorms and rest, he sits down in the locker room and calls your cell. Two times, three times, and finally four times with no response. Ok, now his heart rate is shot

By the time he finally comes into contact with you he’s in a cold sweat, brow furrowed in aggravation and concern; a strange mixture. Calm him down, let him know you’re alright, and assure him that you’re perfectly safe and comfortable at home, well taken care if

Once that’s over with, expect a lengthy lecture about the dangers of exposing yourself while you know you’re sick, thoroughly chastising you and expressing just how worried about you he truly is (Seriously guys, if you’re sick even in the slightest STAY HOME)

Like Deku, he would want to spend as much time with you as possible, even if it’s over FaceTime. He tends to be a little paranoid over germs, though, so since it’s not like you live together he won’t pay any visits to your house. Quarantine means business!

However, though, he will prepare a nice little surprise in your dorm room for when you come back. A carefully decorated array of dried flowers, candies, and small snacks. Katsuki prides himself in all that he does and strives for perfection in every aspect of life; this is no exception. He lives to impress you!

Once you’ve beaten the worst of the sickness, he cracks down on you and will begin to act like he’s a professor on Zoom; man schedules FaceTime meetings between the two of you for him to catch you up on everything that you’ve missed. Let’s not forget, he’s at the head of his class and devotes a large portion of time and dedication into his academic studies

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aurelieparra · 4 years

Text

I AM THE STORM [1 of 5]:

A little bit of set up. This series is going to come from many angles, so do enjoy. You shot her up and dismembered her best friend’s corpse, so like, it’s fucking on now I guess.

Date: June 12th, 2020. Warnings: None.

“Well, somebody’s overcompensating...”

It was a half-hearted attempt at a jealous jibe.

The smile she’d once adored more than any other came a moment later.

“After the four year migraine it took to get to this point, I think I’ve earned a little leniency in the showing off department,” he said with a muted chuckle. The man didn’t pull his attention away from the view to look at her—not that she could blame him. “You’re just jealous mine is bigger.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.

Well, he was right about that.

When she finally made her way to his side—not without taking the time to appreciate the expansive penthouse in which they stood—she lifted a hand to point toward another building a short distance away. The tower their eyes met was not an architectural marvel by any stretch of the imagination—in fact, in her opinion it gave credence to the idea that money couldn’t buy taste—but it was a behemoth; a king that loomed over all others, and one that had raised an entire city along with it.

It carried the name Bennett more proudly than she ever had.

“For now.”

It was peaceful up there. That in itself was such a stark contrast to the world below that she couldn’t help but be taken aback by it. Aurélie St. Clair was no stranger to Launceston’s skyline—her family had built enough of it—but it’d been so long since she’d visited, she’d forgotten that the city was, on a superficial level at least, one of the most stunning on the face of the earth.

“I’ll admit I was a little surprised when you asked to meet me here.”

When he finally turned to look at her, she felt her heart sink.

It’d been six months since she’d last seen him, yet he seemed to have aged by years. The evening light did him no favours. He looked uncharacteristically stressed. Tired. Unwell.

A fresh wave of guilt hit her in an instant. Aurélie felt a great deal of remorse for all the business associates who had suffered as a result of their involvement with the French Organization, but none of them hurt quite as much as it did with Amir. It was personal.

“I partly wanted to congratulate you,” she began, cutting off her own train of thought by fishing a bottle out of her bag. Even if the idea of a quiet drink with an old friend was an appealing one, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that would be the full course of this conversation. “I was going to get you a watch, but where’s the fun in not being able to share it with me.”

“Fair.”

As soon as he had a hand on the neck of the cognac, she found the glasses.

It wasn’t until they’d made their way over to the empty kitchen that he finally spoke up again: “And what about the other part? I’m guessing if you’re trying to sweeten me up with a rather impressive Rémy, it’s not going to be anything good.”

“Always such a pessimist…”

“When in Launceston.”

Aurélie directed her attention to the alcohol as though she needed it to get through what she was about to say. In all honesty, despite the fact she had been rehearsing all afternoon—trying her best to figure out a way to approach a conversation in a way that wouldn’t seem pathetic or patronizing—she still didn’t know whether she had it in herself to convince him. Amir had always been so difficult to manipulate; it was one of the things she appreciated most about him.

Unless you were Lara Rutherford, anyway.

“I don’t know how best to go about explaining this, but things are going to get bad in London, Amir.”

Straight out with it, then.

The sharp and bitter exhale of a laugh that he offered didn’t surprise her.

“What, worse than New Year’s Eve?”

It dawned on her then that he had no real idea what these people were capable of. Rumours of the Russian Mob had no doubt reached Boston, but he had never spent enough time in this breeding ground of horror—not even when he was with her—to understand where London was going to end up if someone didn’t stamp out the Russian cancer before it spread.

“Those same Russians mailed me parts of my dead mother,” Aurélie reminded coldly, gulping a cognac far too expensive to be downed in one. “We’ve held back on the Rutherfords since Porto Velho. I sought peace until I knew they were responsible for bringing the Vorshevskys to London. That is unforgiveable.”

“So you’re going to pick a fight with the most powerful family in London to fix it?”

The defensive tone didn’t surprise her. Amir had almost been one of them, after all.

“You realise they were likely just as responsible for the attack on your hotel as the Russians?”

“Our hotel,” he reminded stiffly, taking a sip of his own drink. The pause that followed seemed uncomfortable on his part. “Look, Andrew Rutherford and his entire organization of scum can burn for all I care. I mean that. But you’ve seen what wars like this do to a city. Look what it did to Launceston. Look at the people whose lives have been ruined because of it.”

“That’s why I’m telling you this. I want you to leave.”

Amir was the type of man so insufferably level-headed and calm, that when his jaw tensed in obvious annoyance, her discomfort was genuine.

“What?”

“I don’t want you caught up in this.” The sincerity of her words seemed to surprise him. It was a painful realization, as her voice cracked, and not the way this had panned out in any of the thousand attempts she’d made at running the scenario through her head. “I’ve already lost too many people I care about, and you’re a convenient way for them to get to me. What they perceive as French business. They know that now. I want you to leave.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

It might’ve seemed like an over exaggeration if she hadn’t already lost enough to make the paranoia justified. New Year’s Eve alone had taken both her uncle and her best friend, and almost left her children without a mother.

“It’s why I moved Laurent to Launceston. If I could’ve made Ethan—”

“What happened to Ethan was not your fault.”

Even though he reached a hand out to the top of her arm, neither the gesture nor the words held much comfort. If she hadn’t opened the fucking place—as much a fuck you to the Rutherfords with the Amir partnership as it was a legitimate business decision—he never would’ve gotten caught in the crossfire.

No, she mightn’t have held the gun in her hands, but indirect responsibility was still responsibility.

“You can’t carry all of this on your shoulders,” he continued. “That’s not how it works.”

“My family has done bad things.”

“I don’t need to know—” It seemed like he cut himself off, and a part of her was glad she didn’t have to hear the rest. Aurélie had long ago come to terms with the monster her decisions would eventually make of her, but it seemed to hit different when the judgment came from someone on the outside. Someone she respected. Maybe he didn’t want to know for deniability. Or maybe, he didn’t want their façade to be ruined, either. “Look, my hotel in Belize is almost ready to open. If it’ll make you feel better, Revati and I can stay there for a while.”

It took a moment for the words to register. The relief came quickly.

“Thank you,” she breathed, flinging her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. “It sounds awfully selfish, I’m sure, but I can’t afford more things to worry about right now.”

Aurélie hadn’t realised she was still holding onto him until he laughed humourlessly into her shoulder.

“You’re right. It does.”

“If being away from The City is going to be a work problem, I can write off the loan.”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, before she could expand. Even though it hadn’t been on her mind when she’d suggested it, she hadn’t expected him to say anything else. Amir didn’t like to feel indebted. “That’s almost eight-hundred million dollars, you idiot.”

When she finally let him go, she let out a sigh. Like she gave more shits about the money than him.

There were still a few others she wanted to see out of the city before the wheels of her plan were set into motion, but he had topped the list, and if nothing else, the ease of this gave her some confidence about dealing with the others. God, she needed another fucking drink, though. As the blonde reached out to take the bottle, however, her attention was caught by an expression on his face that wasn’t inspiring quite so much confidence as the conversation that’d come before.

“I don’t want my loan gone—”

She stilled for a moment.

That was definitely going to be followed up with a ‘but.’ Aurélie poured herself a drink as though preparing to brace herself.

“—but I would appreciate it if you could do something else for me. I wouldn’t ask you this if I didn’t think it was important.”

“What is it?”

It was as though she could physically see his brain doing somersaults inside of his head trying to figure out how to phrase whatever was coming next. The fact he seemed so unsure was doing little to ease her anxiety.

“If I can set up a meeting, and believe me, if I ask, she won’t say no—”

No. No, no…

“—would you meet with Lara?”

Aurélie immediately regretted attempting a sip because she almost fucking choked.

Had his brain injury sent him on a path to senility before his time?

“Absolutely not,” she replied in a heartbeat. “Not a chance.”

“Hear me out for a second.”

“Her family had people try to murder me. Twice. And the first time she had the gall to send me flowers to the hospital afterwards!”

There were a great many people that her lifestyle had baited her into hating, but aside from Konstantin Vorshevsky himself, Aurélie wasn’t sure she despised any of them as much as her. The mere mention of her fucking name—especially from him—was enough to make her blood boil. After everything she’d just said, about the Rutherfords…

With his hands up in surrender, he quickly added: “She’s the weak link.”

Aurélie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. The weak link was surely Damon.

“I went to see her in the hospital after New Year. We talked.”

“You did what?” The sigh that left her was one of exasperation because she wasn’t even surprised anymore. The man never learned. “Amir, you have to stop doing this...”

“I know,” he said; though to his credit, whilst looking rightfully disappointed at his own idiocy. “But that’s not why I brought this up. We talked about everything that happened. The point is she wants the Russians out of London as much as you. And she doesn’t just blame them for being shot. She wouldn’t even see her own father.”

Now that was useful information.

Andrew’s little princess blamed him?

“Lara doesn’t agree with them bringing the Russians here?”

“Not at all.”

It was enough to pique her interest. Somebody like Lara Rutherford would never turn against her family, and Aurélie knew it because like it or not they were cut from the same cloth, but that didn’t mean that her discontent with their direction wasn’t exploitable.

“They’re grooming her to take over the family,” Amir continued, fingers reaching for his glass again. “The enemy of my enemy.”

“Is still a manipulative fucking bitch.”

Even though he glared, she stood firm.

“You can’t fight the Rutherfords in London. You know that. Take a loss on her to screw the Russians.”

The idea of taking a loss was so foreign a concept for the French Organization, she was almost offended. To not see some merit in his point, however, would have been as egotistical as the woman they were discussing. Lara was going to take over the Rutherford family one day; of that, there was no question. If they could find some common ground in their hatred of the Russians, maybe she would make for a leader far easier to negotiate with than her father.

“There’s no way she would even entertain this.”

“You don’t know her like I do. Her ego overrides everything, and she can’t stand that they got away with this. Whether you hate her or not, in the long run, you know she would be more useful as an asset than an enemy.”

In the long run.

And that was when she realised.

“Fine.” The word was so begrudged, she could’ve fucking choked on it. “I’ll meet with her.”

If he was in any way relieved, he hid it well.

So she prodded again.

Scrutinizing.

“Just answer one thing.”

“Of course. What is it?”

The woman took pause to finish her second drink. To consider if she even wanted him to confirm the answer.

She sighed. Continued.

“Are you trying to convince me she’s useful to help me, or protect her?”

Amir looked about as stiff as she did when he brought up her stupid fucking name in the first place.

She knew before the word even left his mouth:

Both.

#self para #self para: i am the storm

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lawfulpride · 4 years

Text

Back by popular demand! A conversation between Davos and Thor, Part II. Thor played by @honourablebravery.

captaincoffee07/25/2020

Thor, never the best at 'reading a room', is not foolish enough to be entirely oblivious. Good at this? Nah, probably not. Oblivious? Not so. The slight crease in his brow furrows further and further inward, before he moves to seat himself beside Davos-keeping a good forearm of space between them so Davos doesn't feel crowded in. "Well, you scarcely know me now, generally I have learned that speaking with someone on friendly terms can change that." They clearly have some sort of shared ground, and Davos seems to burn with the need to speak. Perhaps as Loki, he's forever been unheard Thor thinks, a pin-prick of bitterness touching his heart. "Is it something that you would wish to discuss? I am no wordsmith, but I have a gentle ear, and the ability for pragmatism."

Hopeful07/25/2020

"It's . . .. . " Davos ducks his head. He's been working on this: hard. But revelations of his personal struggles remain shameful terrain he was trained for 28 solid years to keep to himself. "It's. Not." He sighs, and looks up. "It's not seemly. For someone like me. I am. I am still learning that I have the right to be." He blinks. "Well. Human."

He gives Thor a long look. " . . . the person I put all my faith and trust in was my brother. When we turned 28, we were the two final contestants, out of all the monks in our temple, to go to trial for the most prestigious title--and responsibility--of my homeland. I was winning. Winning, but I couldn't kill him, even though that was the custom, so I begged him to yield. He was losing badly, but he still wouldn't listen to me, he kept fighting. And I kept winning. And then the light passed over the windows of the temple, and blinded me for but a moment. And Danny . . . his name is Danny, Danny Rand . . . .you've surely heard of him, he is as rich and at least half as famous as Mr. Stark . . . . he took the advantage and disarmed me, and won."

"In that one moment everything I had ever wanted, everything I had ever dreamt of becoming, was gone." He grinds his jaw. "But I was still willing to stand by his side as he took the Iron Fist . . . .the title and the duty of which I spoke. And he thanked me by abandoning us. Abandoning me."

"Coming back here. To play white Kung Fu hero to a city full of reprobates."

captaincoffee07/25/2020

Something about Davos not even being 30 yet both startles and alarms, Thor's brow knitting continually, until it's nearly a flattened line of scrunch. "Siblings are not forged in blood alone, family is family, a lack of a blood bond means little when the pain is so true, the experiences so raw, and the moments so introspective, sharp and clear. Birth right can only account for so much, it's what we know and experience that makes a relationship. This man, Danny, he is your brother, in the truest of it's definition. And you have bene hurt, both by his betrayal and abandonment, and by he effectively sneering in the face of your love and accomplishments." Thor blinks, seemingly startled by how much he's said. "Of course..I can only know this from an outsiders view' He says, quickly. Aware that-regardless of what Davos currently describes, he'd probably not appreciate Thor actually insulting the man. He knew that feeling all too well. "Davos..if I may..what is it you wish to ask him? Can it even be quantified in singular statements? What drives you now?" He saw Davos was indeed human, but he keeps this quiet, not sure how this moral complex is for the other, or what about it disturbs him so. He hasn't enough information yet for that.

Hopeful07/26/2020

Davos folds his arms across his chest. As he is wont to do, he listens closely to Thor's ruminating. The god clearly speaks from experience. "Of course." He looks up suddenly, eyes bright with a different kind of light, one not altogether gentle. "Your brother is the sorcerer who attacked this city in 2012." He would love to do battle with such a formidable creature, but he also knows that to say or even think such a thing toward this good man's beloved family member is unkind. " . . . . as for your question, I don't. I don't know."

"I cannot imagine what I would say."

captaincoffee07/26/2020

There is anger there. Thor can sense it. What he cannot discern is it's direction, and he is not about to make the situation escalate by asking. He feels pain, but he doesn't know quite why he feels pain. For a moment, he wishes he understood people, emotions, nuances better. He tries, and he hopes that is something. "Yes, Loki attacked New York here..in 2012..he was..unwell..very very unwell, that is not..I wish to not make it sound as if I'm excusing him, but much has come to light, since that moment." He chuckles, fondly, almost, reaching for his ice coffee. "You know.' Having a small sip. "It's entirely possible you won't know until you are within five inches of Danny's face that you'll know exactly what you wish to say"

Hopeful07/26/2020

"it might be unwise for me to ever see him again." Davos looks down at his right fist. He flexes it, over and over, slowly, as though something there is missing: the hand that, briefly, held the Iron Fist, when for a time he stole it from Danny. A twitch of muscles, that meditates on what might have been. "I have spent many months rebalancing my chi, recovering my self-control and my....clarity...in knowing right from wrong. Seeing Danny makes me violent and irrational."

"...it did not used to."

captaincoffee07/26/2020

Thor nods, slow, steady, and hopefully with understanding. "Unwise..yes, but are you settled?" He asks, "If you think that it would be possible to never see him, to never have that moment again and carry out your life with something else on your mind, could you do so? I would never advise anything that could hurt you, but I only ask, does it feel wise to you?" He continues, a little quickly. "You seem a man whom carries burdens like brands, Davos. A man who will always feel the burn of things that fester, that he believes wrong, because not having the resolution to something you believed in so deeply..I don't know if you'd be content, letting it go..because to you, it'll always feel like some slow moving knife taking pieces from your spine until someone yanks it back out." He could be wrong, and he truly has little clue where this babbling he speaks comes from..maybe Davos had a way of making everyone more introspective.

Hopeful07/26/2020

Davos sets his jaw. He stands, and moves to the door. But he pauses, and turns. His hand tightens into a fist at his side. He turns it and examines his palm. And he returns to the couch, and sinks back onto it. "You are right."

captaincoffee07/26/2020

He worries for a brief moment if he's said something upsetting, but then Davos just..sits back down. "I cannot speak for you, nor your best interests, Davos..but..I do..I cannot say I do not worry. Your energy is very..intense"

Hopeful07/27/2020

The Steel Serpent looks at the Thunder God in his gauging, serious way. "I was born to protect, and I must find something to protect, or I will run mad." It's a confession, a tacit agreement.

captaincoffee07/27/2020

Something to protect. It seems there could be a double meaning to that..but it feels..rude to ask. He's not sure how to respond, precisely. "What about protecting yourself..and what you believe in? It may..I feel that there are causes, things you sympathize with, perhaps, if devotion is what drives you..looking somewhere to it?"

Hopeful07/27/2020

"That is why I am a shifu at several training centers now." He rubs a palm down the back of his scalp, and inclines his head toward Thor in a single nod. "That is what I seek. Truth to my purpose. To be devout, to the people who need to learn to protect themselves. Some of them are children. Some women battered by the pigs who have abused the sanctity of marriage. Some teenagers."

"It's only...Can you miss the person who abandoned and betrayed you? I fear that is my dilemma. Yet I don't trust myself to speak to him without reverting to shameful ways."

captaincoffee07/27/2020

Norns, what a loaded question. And such a question does not have a simple response-it cannot, at the heart, have any response not loaded and situation-based. He decides to hone in on the most simplistic part of the question (or what Thor thinks is the most simple) "Yes, I think you can' He says, gently, 'But you and I both know there is more to it than that..is there not?" The set up is a clear opening I can expand upon this should you desire it. You are safe in my company.

Hopeful07/27/2020

"Please explain." Davos takes the opening, finally sipping his nearly forgotten tea.

captaincoffee07/27/2020

"Betrayal..is not a black and white issue, and it of course, determines on the type of betrayal." He's hesitating, but it's clearly in result of thinking how best to word what he desires to bring to the table here. "And how badly you are hurt by said betrayal. I think that, if one is to look for forgiveness after a betrayal has occurred, then context is utterly crucial."

Hopeful07/27/2020

"I don't want forgiveness, I want him to beg it! And I want to still tell him to go to hell!" Davos speaks ferociously but his whole body tightens, trying to regulate the emotions he keeps too constantly locked up in the dark. "I want him to have never left, I want us to be home! I would have gladly yielded him the honor he was bestowed if he had just taken it seriously!"

A long pause and he draws out a shaky exhale. "Forgive me, I should not have raised my voice."

captaincoffee07/27/2020

Thor's first instinct is to reach out, he's tactile, after all. But he doesn't have consent and he's not sure what a man like Davos thinks of such things. Knowing full well some individuals hated touch. His fingers flex against his own leg, a slight inward curl, "Anger is not always something shameful" He points out, gently, "Sometimes it is good to let it out..lest it consumes us." Unless Davos believed anger a shameful thing, "You are not..." No He puzzles, then tries again, "This is a safe haven, Davos"

Hopeful07/27/2020

"A weapon does not know anger." The words are hollow and come from a dead place behind Davos's now shuttered and lightless eyes. "A weapon does not indulge in emotions. It is dangerous. I do not think you unsafe. On the contrary, you are .....you are quite kind."

"I want him to have valued me...as much as I valued him." That's the root of it all. That's the bottom line.

captaincoffee07/27/2020

"You're a human first, Davos" He lets that sit, a moment. 'I was not always good...maybe this is why I make such an effort now..maybe I always had goodness inside, but could never access it..or..something." Words are not his strong suit. "You know the truth that you cannot force him to value you...Davos, it hurts..but Danny's blindness is not because of you, but him, and whatever has completely clouded his mind, his vision, his everything."

Hopeful07/27/2020

Davos bites his tongue halfway to saying "I know that!" because. Does he? Intellectually, perhaps, but not in his heart of hearts. "I have never been exposed to what...the Western world, I believe, refers to as 'positive reinforcement,' but I shall attempt to believe your words are true."

captaincoffee07/27/2020

"In truth..I do not quite grasp that concept either. My..my father's belief to me..was that..as long as you did what he claimed was 'good' then..it meant something. But it had to align with his personal visions. Order, regulation, he saw the future, did he? Maybe he claimed such, not sure...but I was so brash, so arrogant. And after years of encouragement from him to be so, he tells me no, it is too much, humble yourself..and I do..but it still did not align with his beliefs" "Loki suffered worse for it. He saw right through him at points..he always was to clever.."

Hopeful07/27/2020

Davos lifts his head from where it's been resting, in his hands, and studies Thor perceptively. "My parents are like your father. It's exhausting. I'm very sorry. The price of being the model pupil, always, is steep. But I succeeded often in being what my mother and father...mostly my mother, demanded. It was just that it was never quite enough. I could always be more perfect. And when I was not, I did not exist."

captaincoffee07/27/2020

"And I, to you, I am sorry..but if I may?" He has no idea how to preface it, simply launching himself head-long into words and hoping it sticks "I have learned, and I cannot claim this to be universal, these parents of ours..they have ideas, they want things accomplished. My father wanted a King, and he molded me to be just that, but when I started to eek from his mold, he punished me. He had two sons..well, Loki is Loki, but we grew up..side by side..and he made it seem as if the throne was allowed to both of us, but he deliberately kept the truth at bay. I was to take the throne, Loki not, and in his eyes we both failed because of what? Because HE couldn't be arsed to communicate openly? Because he treated fatherhood like putting pieces into a puzzle? Adding sealant to a sculpture? How can we do wrong or right when to him, sharing his thoughts was not..we were never worthy of his true voice, only spiels I have to wonder were rehearsed, he even banished our sister and told NOBODY." Now Thor is raging, that tell-tale fiery personality that still lingers beneath the surface, even to this day, rising like an encroaching flame. "She was too powerful..for him..' he scoffs, 'Imagine.." Lies, lies, deceit. Half truths. "Davos, we..we could never live up to what our parents desire, because their desires are not tangible, they are unrealistic, they always were. To the offspring are a means to an end, a continuation in a storyline they've crafted and could never finish, because we have agency. If they wanted someone to carry out legacies, whatever, to their exact specifications, make models, or something, do not expect that people with brains and feelings and hearts are blank slates waiting to be guided about like dogs!"

Hopeful07/27/2020

Davos watches Thor storm around his own lodgings, his inspirational words turning into a blaze of still unresolved emotions. The Kung Fu master blinks slowly once. He then smiles, a small soft smile, almost modest in nature. This is so familiar. Danny has a temper like this, too. Danny likes to rail against injustices, too, albeit a bit more sanctimoniously than this Thor fellow does.

Something about it is as comforting as the commiseration, the empathy, within the words themselves. He stands and walks over to the ranting god, and lays a hand on his bicep. "Are you alright?" he asks, and it's clear he actually cares. Davos isn't much of a deceiver.

captaincoffee07/27/2020

The touch does not startle him, it is both welcome and relieving. "..Are you?" He asks, quietly. "I.." He chuckles, 'I am a Thunder God for a reason, it appears." Aware that the moment is radiating tension, but comfort in the same shared space. 'Our lives seem oddly similar, Davos, in some ways."

Hopeful07/27/2020

"I am, in fact." Davos huffs a laugh through his nose, and nods. "Perhaps we are."

captaincoffee07/27/2020

Thor's grin turns downright radiant, pleased with the good discussion, moving to turn himself more fully, his own wide-palmed hand loosely grasping Davos's shoulder. "I am glad, to have given you some chance to alleviate some burdens, and I would be honoured to have you as a friend."

HopefulToday at 2:17 PM

Davos reddens. Particularly his cheeks and ears. They aren't especially large ears, but with his shaved head, they become prominent. He could face down any foe with his fists, and with his keen wits, he could navigate nearly any delicate intellectual scenario as well. But being told by a friendly behemoth that he wants to be his friend, that it would be his honor? That's intimidating to someone trained to disregard emotional attachments altogether, save those which pertain to loyalty, and to devotion. "I." Oh, but it's very good for him, this scenario. "I would also be honored." He grasps Thor's shoulder, in return. He has to stand on his tiptoes.

#Interactions: Thor Odinson #ic #Davos #Davos Iron fist

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princessanneftw · 4 years

Text

Alright, this is the second chapter. I'm terribly sorry for the cliffhanger, and don't worry there is a happy ending.

🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻

Driving the car to the hospital, Anne noticed the car behind hers. Two of her police officers insisted on following them at least to the hospital door but not to join them inside to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Tim the poor thing tilted his car seat backwards, the wet towel she got for him on his head, wetting it with some water from time to time. He looked like he could barely breath, his body shivering from the fever. She noticed also how he was wincing and trying to hide it, his hand sneaking to his tummy as the pain become unbearable.

Arriving to the ER, Anne walked to the reception desk to talk with the nurse while Tim took a seat on one of the chairs in the waiting area. She came back with a clipboard and started filling the necessary information, asking her husband when needed. Of course she could easily use her name and title to get the best service and he would be now in a room all to himself with a half dozen of doctors fawning over him, but she knew her husband hated all the fuss that came with that, especially since he was insisting all the way here that it wasn't a big deal. She sighed and gave the clipboard back to the nurse and sat back waiting. In the meantime, Tim had to use the bathroom twice to throw up, certainly because he held it back on the way to the hospital.

It was 30 minutes later that they saw the doctor. There were the usual questions and checks, all the while Anne glaring at her partner's responses (he was feeling unwell since he woke up, threw up every medicine or remedy he took, the pain is unbearable).

"I think you have appendicitis, Sir. We will do the blood tests and ultrasounds to check the severity and see if it needs surgery," declared the doctor.

A nurse came to take his bloods for the test then he was ushered to another room to have the ultrasound, all the while his wife holding his hand. She was not a woman who intentionally took part in public displays of affection, but she had to admit, she was scared for her Tim. She knew deep down that nowadays, appendectomy surgery is not something to worry about, but she couldn’t help herself.

Apparently, Tim indeed had appendicitis. The bad news, his appendix was swollen and might start leaking or it could burst which was worrisom. The good news, he will have the surgery as soon as possible, so the appendix could be removed before anything drastic happened.

It was 6am when they were moved to a private room, where Tim had to endure another round of tests and check ups from the surgeon and anesthesist, answering all the questions they asked. Fortunately they could get hold of his medical history from their family doctor. Tim was putting on a brave face, the only indication of his nervousness was the tight grip on his wife's hand and the subtle looks he was throwing her way.

Meanwhile, Anne's phone rang multiple times. Apparently the PO informed their superior about her whereabouts who in turn told the Private Secretaries and the housekeeper. It wasn't long until Tim's and her PS said they were on their way to the hospital. The phone calls only stopped when her battery died, because she forgot to charge her phone the previous night and Tim forgot his at home.

The surgey was scheduled for 9am. Tim was given some medicines to stop the appendix from bursting and a pain killer. She was sitting by her husband sipping some coffee her PO got her from the cafeteria, while speaking softly to Tim, trying to take his mind from what will happen and sooth his nerves, when there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” She called thinking it was one of the staff, but she was surprised when one familiar blonde head peeked from the doorway.

"Hello, I was told there was a very sweet man called Tim in this room?” said Zara, who came in the room smiling but with worried eyes, followed by her brother Peter. Tim who was surprised but happy accepted Zara's kiss on the cheek all while chuckling quietly but wincing when his tummy hurt from the sudden movement.

“And a giant one too." Said Peter while kissing his mother’s cheeks then his stepfather's.

“How did you know?" asked Anne.

“I was having an early morning run and I thought I’d pass by the house to have a cuppa with Tim, only for the housekeeper to tell me what happened." answered Peter

“One of my friends called me asking what was wrong with you, because she saw a picture of you both on Twitter in the waiting area of the ER. Apparently someone who was here with their friend took it and shared it on social media,” said Zara sitting on the edge of her stepfather’s bed. Anne rolled her eyes as her daughter continued. “Don't worry, your office is handling everything.”

The little family sat talking with each other, Peter and Zara inquiring about their stepfather’s health and reassuring him that he'll be fine. Shortly after that, Tim was taken to the surgery room, Anne and the kids following behind. After a peck from Anne, they sat on the chairs outside of the surgery ward, the worried princess refusing to move from there until her husband was out. Zara, knowing her mother's habit of not charging her phone, put her mother's sim card on her second phone. Eventually everyone they personally knew and who loved and cared about Tim called her Mum: her uncles, cousins, her dad and even her busy granny and old grandpa. The same was with her and her brother.

The private secretaries came, shortly after them Autumn and Mike, who left the girls with their nannies because it was Saturday. They told them reporters were outside the hospital wanting answers. ‘For God’s sake, couldn't they leave her and her family alone? It's just a simple surgery,’ thought Anne. And let the others handle the matter. But it was more than 2 hours since they took Tim to the OR and there was no news. ‘Shouldn't the surgery take an hour max, what the hell is happening?!' She noticed an increase of movement in and out of the surgery ward, and started worrying. 20 minutes later a nurse came out, her face unreadable.

"Something went wrong"

TBC.

* * *

GASP. Another flippin cliffhanger! This was very cute, moreso than the first one. I liked the inclusion of the whole family and Anne being the usual strong af type but worrying inside about her hubby. I await part 3 ☺️

#fANNEfiction #i will go down with this ship #softness and fluff #submission

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fourteenacross · 4 years

Text

end of 2019

I've done this survey every year since like, 2006 and then missed it last year because I was on a social media break. Whoops! My shitty memory makes it fairly important as a way to track the passage of time, so I'm back on the horse this year.

What did you do in 2019 that you’d never done before? I'm sure there's some specific thing, but nothing's coming to me immediately. Oh, I guess I started cross stitching? Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I'm not sure what my resolutions were for last year because I did not write them anywhere because I did not do this meme /o\ Next year: + Set up some kind of writing schedule + Finish my mg novel + Survive moving + Get a new job + Go on more dates

eta: Outside of these sort of concrete, 2do-list type goals, I set some more nebulous personal goals on Twitter: - See my local friends outside of the BFC more often - Do weird, dumb shit - Be nicer to myself - Fix my meds - Bake something fancy(Okay, that last one is kind of 2do-listy.) Did anyone close to you give birth? YES!! @caphairdadbeard had a baby and he's perfect and I love him and it kills me that he's so far away and I only get to see him a few times a year, even more so than it usually kills me having Sarah so far away. Did anyone close to you die? My former roommate's father. I did a lot of family stuff with her over the decade that we lived together and spent a lot of time with her parents and he was super loved and admired by his community. A real shitty loss all around. What countries did you visit? Just the US, but I visited Seattle and Mississippi for the first time! What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019? ~*~Financial security~*~ What dates from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? I'm so terrible with actual dates. May 9 was Max's birthday, so there's that? We did a lovely, successful live show on April 18. OH we went to Rent Live and had our wild weekend in LA on January 26. We watched a lot of wild movie musicals at Grace and Jesse's in July. I saw Blair Witch in the woods. I went down to the city to see Octet and Hadestown. Lisa moved in with me. Moby-Dick happened. Now I'm just listing events and not dates, but there you go. What was your biggest achievement of the year? God, do I even have one? I'm not dead, so that's probably something. Oh, I guess we had a really good WBS month where we were interviewed by Forbes.com, had one of our crossovers with IDEOTV, guest edited TBD, and had our live show. That was a really satisfying few weeks. What was your biggest failure? I'm haunted by this work thing I fucked up, even though everyone has told me it wasn't a big deal. I really crash and burned out for NaNo because SAD hit me way harder and faster this year than it has in the past. Did you suffer illness or injury? Lots of brain stuff, as per usual. A couple minor colds. My FAMILY on the other hand.... What was the best thing you bought? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Tickets to Octet, maybe. It was probably my favorite show of the year. The new chair/loveseat is also very good. Whose behavior merited celebration? Some of my friends. A lot of excellent activists. Sarah's baby (he's very good). Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Like, the whole government? Where did most of your money go? Grown-up type stuff (rent, utilities, groceries), cons, and travel. What did you get really, really, really excited about? LA, Octet, Max, DragonCon, Moby-Dick. Galentine's! What song will always remind you of 2019? Probably music from Octet? I don't like.....listen to the radio. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Probably about the same? Maybe more stressed out by family stuff going on and money stuff. b) thinner or fatter? Same. Also, I hate this question. 2020 Kaitlyn, delete it plz. c) richer or poorer? About to be poorer. What do you wish you’d done more of? Writing. Sleeping. Going on dates. Hanging out with people. What do you wish you’d done less of? Being depressed. Being stressed. Did you fall in love in 2019? Nope. What was your favorite TV program? If we're talking "currently airing" and not "things I bingewatch that are very old," probably The Good Place--OH I almost forgot Good Omens was this year!!! Also that! And I started watching Schitt's Creek and watched all of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Oh, and I started watching some videos on the Bon Appetit YouTube channel, mostly Gourmet Makes and Making Perfect and Reverse Engineering. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Mostly just like...........people I don't actually know who are terrible humans. What was the best book you read? Coming soon to a podcast feed near you! What was your greatest musical discovery? Probably Octet? I don't think I listened to a lot of new music this year. OH WAIT, The Highwomen!!! What a good album!!! (Also in doing the theatre section I just remembered Six was this year too!) What did you want and get? Mostly material things--clothes, cons, travel, seeing people, tickets to things, etc. Impeachment. Got that. That was nice. What did you want and not get? Financial security. A new job. Emotional stability. A relationship. More sleep. What was your favorite film of this year? Captain Marvel, although Us, Charlie's Angels, and The Wind were very good too. What was your favorite theatrical event of the year? Probably Octet! The broadway version of Hadestown was kind of disappointing compared to the 2016 NYTW version and Moby-Dick is great fun, but still pretty rough in places. Octet is just.....very good. Oh, or SIX, that was great too! Octet or Six. Oh, and, jesus, this year was a hundred years long, I totally forgot we saw Denee as Eliza this year!! She was very good!! And I got to see Daniel Breaker as Burr again and I fucking love him. What was your favorite podcast of the year? The Empty Bowl, a meditative podcast about cereal. It is so good for zoning out and being calm. TAZ has been killing it with the one-shots and the Amnesty arc, too, and this was the first year I listened to MBMBaM weekly and also I mainlined all of Sawbones after listening to half of it, then not listening to any for six months, then deciding to start from the beginning again. Unwell is a really good show that I recommend, and Mabel. The Magnus Archives killed it with season four, which was tailored to my exact narrative tastes. MFM and Criminal are perpetual faves. American Hysteria was super interesting to go through and Bear Brook and In the Dark both obviously had fucking fantastic years. Oh, and Who the Hell is Hamish? that was fun too. And I’ll stop now.

I.....listen to a lot of podcasts. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 34! On the day, I went out for dinner and drinks with some friends. That weekend, I bought a bunch of children's Captain Marvel birthday supplies and we played Jackbox games and ate cake! What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Any sort of fix to our current political mess. And/or financial stability. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2019? The "Whimsical" section on eShakti. What kept you sane? Friends! Podcasts! Anti-depressants! Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Brie Larson and Starr Busby are the first that spring to mind. What political issue stirred you the most? It’s hard to pick just one when the whole country is on fire. Who did you miss? Pretty much everyone when they are not right next to me. Sarah Bay, a lot, but I feel weird singling one person out. [This is exactly what I wrote for the last four years, but I’m keeping it because it’s still true.] Who was the best new person you met? Did I meet new people this year? I know I internet-met a couple people, but I'm not sure if I in-person made any new friends? We hung out with this girl Jenn at con a bunch, she was pretty cool! edit: oh my god MAX I met MAX this year because he did not exist last year!!! Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019: Do not invite folks to sit on a panel unless you know they'll stick to the goddamn topic agreed on in advance. Quote a song that sums up your year: And no one grew into anything new / we just became the worse of what we were

(I think this is the third year in a row that Dave Malloy has been my lyric of the year.)

Anyway, that’s 2019 for me. I can’t say I’m sorry to see it go. The last half, in particular, was super rough. Hell, the last week was super rough--guess how many members of my family have been in the hospital in December! If you guessed “six” you would be correct!! (Everyone is more or less fine.)

But, hey, it also brought me my tiny nephew and two Dave Malloy musicals, so it wasn’t all bad!

I hope 2020 treats you all well, friends!

#stuff about me #2019 #meme

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janeturenne · 6 years

Note

Romana and Wynter for the headcanon meme?

Romana III/Matrix!Tre (this is mostly gonna be about the latter of those, let’s be real)

A Realistic Headcanon: Romana III is aro/ace. Since Romana II was not aro, this causes some heartbreak. I’m not positive, but it’s possible that Matrix!Tre is also aro/ace, but she’s in such an unhealthy situation and so starved for any kind of contact with other minds that she doesn’t really have a healthy way to come to that conclusion. She so needs friends that it’s probable romantic love and friendship, touch-starvedness and sexual desire, get muddled for her and that she won’t have any way to figure out what her actual desires are until her basic needs are met. So. That’s. Fun?

A Headcanon Which, While Possibly Not Realistic, Is Hilarious: Relatedly, Matrix!Tre is every bit as excited as she seems to see Leela and Narvin. She does want those hugs. Lots of them. All the hugs. That part is convenient, but not in itself a scheme. She wants them to love her and acknowledge her for a real Romana, before it’s too late, and it breaks her hearts a little that they don’t. THEY MAY NOT LOVE YOU TRE BUT I DO *cries quietly* (I don’t know how my hilarious headcanon ended up with crying. All Romana III headcanons are to greater or lesser degree tragic. I apologize for this.)

A Heart-Crushing and Awful Headcanon: The regeneration between Romana II and Romana III is a bad one. Really rough. Romana II, for all her habit of self-sacrifice, realizes in her last instants of being Romana II that oh god she doesn’t want this, she never let herself be happy in this self, and probably there’s a moment thinking about Leela and Andred and what if Leela doesn’t like this new self and oh god, Andred, don’t think about Andred right now don’t think about knives in the dark and Pandora’s sharp-toothed grin–and it all kind of poisons the regeneration process. A wartime Gallifrey can’t afford for its Lady President (let’s be real, she’s not gonna stay Coordinator forever) to put herself into a coma or spend weeks in a zero room, and because she didn’t cope with that regenerative trauma adequately (this is Romana, when would she cope with her traumas) she spends this lifetime having… attacks. Picture Caesar and his epilepsy, the open secret of the leader who’s sporadically unwell, but for Romana it’s uncontrolled artron energy discharges at unpredictable times, her friends shunting her quickly away when her eyes turn gold or sparks start to spill from her fingertips. (On one fortuitous occasion, she manages to channel this discharge sufficiently to kill a Dalek with it and save their skins, because she’s just that much of a stone-cold badass. On the other hand, she also occasionally burns her friends by accident, especially Leela, who has fewer natural defenses than a Gallifreyan.)

Unrealistic, but I Reject Canon and Substitute My Own: Matrix!Tre and Matrix!Romana II absolutely found a way to twist the Matrix to their will and imprison the Daleks while keeping themselves safe. This is 10,000% percent true and no alternate theories will be accepted, sorry. Tre is not being tortured by Daleks for all eternity. I refuse.

And Wynter:

A Realistic Headcanon: Nobody admits to “soggy boggy” voluntarily. I think his real Academy nickname was therefore something even worse. I have no idea what that might be but I shudder to imagine.

A Headcanon Which, While Possibly Not Realistic, Is Hilarious: Somehow, Wynter comes into possession of a golden retriever. He is a Good Boy. They are Good Boys together. …and having typed those sentences, I now need Wynter to be friends with the McElroy brothers and I have absolutely no idea how that could possibly happen but maybe Wynter is a podcast fan, idk.

A Heart-Crushing and Awful Headcanon: more like hand-crushing amirite *booed offstage*

no but seriously I’m struggling to come up with anything worse than canon. …oh god no okay. No. Okay. This is… okay.

When Pandora first takes over Wynter, when he first defies her, she shows him what will happen to him if he resists. And he does it anyway.

I hate everything I hate this question oh god *hides under the covers and sobs*

Unrealistic, but I Reject Canon and Substitute My Own: WYNTER IS ALIVE AND WELL. THE ALIVEST. THE WELLEST. NOTHING BAD HAS EVER HAPPENED TO HIM EVER HE IS A PRECIOUS BEAN AND DATING ACE AND I LOVE HIM.

#Romana #Wynter #Tre #presidentromana

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mittensmorgul · 7 years

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I'm shook. Dean actually admitted that Chuck doesn't care, that Chuck just left and ignored all of his responsibilities. I thought Dean was pro-Chuck, I mean, he called Chuck a bestie, didn't he? I'm not sure if he really resents Chuck or he was just too depressed to think straight. I'm still shook though. (Oh, and if you're feeling unwell I hope you recover. I wish you luck. May October be kind to you.)

Aahhh, thank you. :P And yeah, I’ve been sick since Walker-Stalker Philly a few weeks ago, stupid con crud that turned into bronchitis because I am a weakling with no immune system. :D

I’ve also been debating whether I should write tonight (fic, which I have a deadline of december 2 on and I’m not even close to finished on), or if I should write a long meta on Fathers, or if I should just go to sleep and try again tomorrow. But this bit about Chuck, and how Dean feels about Chuck as an absent father figure, would factor into that meta.

I mean Dean’s always held a grudge against God since… ever probably, but at least in text as far back as 5.02 when Cas set out in search of God to help stop the apocalypse. Chuck never really grew into anything Dean could really respect any more than that, you know? Even the burden Chuck laid on him at the end of s11 wasn’t what Dean wanted. Dean had his ENTIRE LIFE ruined because of Chuck’s inability to clean up his own mess, and then suddenly Dean fixes it FOR him, and Chuck just sashays off into the sunset with Amara and again lays the entire burden for taking care of EVERYTHING at Dean’s feet… but Dean’s still just a guy doing a job. He doesn’t have Cosmic God Powers to just fix stuff when it goes wrong. How the hell is he meant to take care of the entire world?

He does try, though. Oh, how he tries. Until it crushes and breaks him.

(and whoopsie this is actually shaping up to BE that meta on fathers I’ve been thinking about, so guess how I’m gonna spend the next hour! WHEEE! *tosses fic writing plans out the window*)

I’ll start with the easiest one: Dean referring to Chuck as his bestie. In 12.04:

Gail: Do you know God, gentlemen?Dean: Oh yeah. Yeah, we’re- we’re besties.

Said with about 9 tons of sarcasm. I’d find a gif to demonstrate just how done Dean was in that scene, but he was pretty much done with EVERYTHING in 12.04. I think that nicely sums up his attitude going into that conversation.

But yes, I 100% do feel like Dean resents Chuck– for laying this burden on him and not giving him ANYTHING else. He laid this out to Chuck’s face in 11.21:

Dean: Here’s the thing, um…Chuck… And I mean no disrespect. Um… I’m guessing you came back to help with the Darkness, and that’s great. That’s, you know – It’s fantastic. Um, but you’ve been gone a – a… long, long time. And there’s so much crap that has gone down on the Earth for thousands of years. I mean, plagues and wars, slaughters. And you were, I don’t know, writing books, going to fan conventions. Were you even aware, o-or did you just tune it out?Chuck: I was aware, Dean.Dean: But you did nothing. And, again, I-I’m not trying to piss you off. You know, I don’t want to turn into a pillar of salt.Chuck: I actually… didn’t do that.Dean: Okay. People – People pray to you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing.Chuck: You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on – Real hands-on for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created… would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. [Sighs] It’s enabling.Dean: But it didn’t get better.Chuck: Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.Dean: Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.Chuck: I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

And that’s it, really. The crux of Dean’s feelings toward Chuck. And that never really changed. Dean still had to take the burden of sacrifice on HIMSELF (carrying the Soul Bomb to Amara) because Chuck didn’t or couldn’t or just wouldn’t. It wasn’t Chuck that saved the world there, it was Dean using his words with Amara, dragging Chuck kicking and screaming into the conversation.

Okay, not kicking and screaming, more like whimpering and huddling… whatever… :P

But Chuck told Dean not to confuse him with John, and mistake his own “complicated upbringing” for Chuck’s “parenting” of the entire universe. And yet… as above, so below. And Chuck himself “chose” Dean as his mirror.

Then we have Dean’s own complicated Father Issues, from how John raised him, to how he was forced to raise Sam. As he said in 12.22 to Mary, he was forced to not only be a father to Sam, but a mother as well. And it wasn’t fair to Dean, and he hated Mary for her deal that put him in that position in the first place. What was unsaid there, but plain as day anyway, was that he hated John for it, too.

Lizbob and I were talking earlier about how Jack was describing the fact that he WAS his mother for a while before he was born, and how the very act of his birth sucked the life out of Kelly, and how that was a horrifying metaphor for motherhood, but Dean has said it himself, of Sam. Back in 10.03, when Sam was curing him of being a demon:

DEAN: You notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since … [Dean laughs.] Forever. Or maybe … Maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life!SAM: This isn’t my brother talking.DEAN: You never had a brother! Just an excuse for not manning up. But guess what: I quit.SAM: No. No, you don’t. You don’t get to quit. We don’t get to quit in this family! This family is all we have ever had!DEAN: Well, then, we got nothin’.SAM: Would you say that to Dad?DEAN: Dad? Oh, there’s a prize. There’s a man who brainwashed us into wasting our lives fighting his losing battle!

Sam’s “very existence sucked the life” out of Dean’s life, just like Jack literally did to his mother, just TWO EPISODES AFTER Dean broke through to Mary with his confession about the horrors of his life, and his anger over having to be both mother and father to Sam.

And this was about the point I hit my EUREKA! moment over why the idea of Dean being forced to be a parent to Jack just pushed every NOPE NOPE NOPE button in my entire body. Because he’s JUST NOW finally letting go of feeling like his entire life had been one long forced obligation to be a parent to Sam, and now here’s this new pseudo-manbaby with frightening and potentially Dangerous Magical Abilities who needs parenting and looking after that was foisted on him against his will AGAIN.

I mean, it’s like the ultimate in Cosmically Un-Fucking-Fair.

And even the notion that Cas should be responsible for “parenting” the giant nougat-loving nuke in lost-and-found clothes just… sits so wrong with me for the exact same reason. How long has Cas been a guardian to Dean? How big was the whole “You aren’t our babysitter” theme last season? That Cas never really had time to internalize before Jack hijacked Cas’s “babysitter” instincts for his own purposes?

Yes, it’s sweet and I can see that the parallels between Jack and Cas are being written really well so far, but the cutesy Cas-as-Jack’s-Daddy stuff just physically sickens me (which is saying something considering how physically sick I am as a baseline here…). I don’t think it’s “cute.” And I’m saying this as someone who LOVES Jack as a character.

Kelly (who was literally already “dead” at the point she met Cas, and was technically– according to Jack himself– already “Jack” at that point) had sized up Cas and decided that he would make a good guardian for Jack, and that Dagon would make a bad guardian for him, and took matters into her own hands in order to make that happen. Literally took Cas’s hand without his permission, after he’d declined to touch her stomach, and then forced his hand again after literally hijacking Baby and driving Cas to the scene of her “vision.” Then literally taking Cas’s hand again to force events to unfold as they had in the vision, without regard to any of the other horrors that played out as a result– such as Joshua having been killed by Dagon, the Colt being destroyed, Sam and Dean being hurt, Cas nearly getting killed, and then zapping enough power through Cas to kill Dagon, a being of a type we’ve only ever seen harmed by the Colt and the Lance of Michael. It was clear early on that Jack had Serious Power and yet we see he has practically NO CONTROL over it.

I am soooo tempted to apply a little bit of Miriam’s description of Becky to Jack…

He sees something he wants and just takes it without a thought for who it might hurt. He took candy from the vending machine in 13.01, but… he kinda did that to Cas, too. Even before he was born, he saw the sort of devotion Cas had to the people he cared about and even if he didn’t understand WHY, he understood through Kelly that this was something he would need for himself. So he took it, even if it might hurt other people.

Just like he flung his power out at the sheriff when she touched him while he was being assaulted by angel radio. He didn’t intend to hurt her, but he was already in pain and frightened and that’s just how his power works for him right now… as if it’s “him but not him.” Almost like it’s an independent entity that’s in Extreme Self-Protection Mode.

That’s how Miriam described Dean, as someone who takes things and breaks things no matter who it hurts. But really… that’s not Dean, and that’s not Jack either– or at least not what Jack would CHOOSE to be. But from the outside, it kinda looks that way.

So, yeah, I LOVE the idea that Sam is finally getting a turn at forced parenthood from the other side of the equation. It fits beautifully with his own arc toward self-forgiveness and acceptance of his own powers and feelings of whether or not he was inherently evil because of what had been done to him as a baby. I LOVE the idea that Sam will get to experience being a father and mother to someone going through much the same things he did all his life (albeit as an adult, which was not a luxury Dean had when he was forced into a parental role at the age of almost five).

But for Dean? I’m horrified that this has been forced on him again. And for Cas? The fact it’s not something he chose of his own free will, nor gave informed consent to before he was sock-puppeted into becoming Jack’s babysitter… yeah, I find it moderately to seriously disturbing…

And for the sake little baby Jesus, I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT JACK IS EVIL. I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT JACK IS NOT “GOOD.” Good and evil are entirely irrelevant to this conversation.

But Jack’s power did something to Kelly. And it did something to Cas. It wasn’t done with malicious intent, but IT WAS DONE TO THEM. And it’s something that severely limited their free will. We’ve seen how Jack’s power works, without his active CHOICE to make stuff happen. He’s on a fight or flight sort of level with it right now, and it just happens to be set to overkill, you know? I’m sure he’ll get a better handle on it eventually, but I think it’s also going to be a vulnerability that others may try to exploit (enter Asmodeus, or potentially AU Michael, and possibly eventually Lucifer… this isn’t going to be an easy journey for Jack).

Anyway I think I’ve wandered so far off topic of your original question, but congrats, you won the Which Question Will Result In Actual Meta award this week! :P

I think it’s been more than an hour. *checks clock* *what even is time anymore* It’s definitely been more than an hour.

#kajuned #spn s13 spoilers #spn 13.01 #oh DEAN #sam fucking winchester #castiel winchester #jack nougat winchester #if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass #the ghost of john winchester #winchester family dynamics #that's what free will is #the special agony of brainwashing #i know i should be sticking other tags on here but it's after 1 am and i am officially out of brain now

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randomthoughtsgonewild · 7 years

Text

I'm back...

Hello.

I don’t really know how to start this if I’m honest.

It’s been a long while (yeah no shit dumb dumb *facepalms*) and well, things have happened. Some of big degree and some of little importance.

Current status?

I’m feeling shit.

Yes, you may leave. This will not be clean. But when I made this blog and when I titled the description, I meant what I said.

If you no like; bye bye stranger.

If you do but you ain’t into this type of honesty. See you later, mater.

…

So, where to begin…uh, I don’t have the best memory so I believe I shall start around Christmas time 2016.

Life was going semi-okay; school and personal problems were hassling but durable. But during that time I lost two of my mates; one of which I’m closer than the other. It was a whole group thing – we all decided to cast them away because of something they did (I would say what but due to its authenticity and specificity; I can’t take the risk of someone I know recognising it because frankly I’d rather have no-one I know in real life, knowing I am the owner of this blog— not because I’m ashamed; more so of the fact I am a very private person. Which is quite ironic considering I am quite open about everything and everyone— other than myself. But I digress.)

— and so my group casted them away and they were gone throughout the last term before Christmas break; it was hard because I lost my closest mate and my really good friend. But that was resolved quickly after the term and we’re all okay.

See? That wasn’t too bad aha.

Well, we haven’t got to 2017 yet and that’s when things start to go downhill…

So it’s the beginning of the new year and I guess you could say I was hoping for a much better year than 2K16. But when has Lady Luck EVER been on my side? Never. So, like the cow Lady Luck is; it brought me a ton of obstacles and hoops to jump through. To which I failed tremendously.

(I also forgot to add; Been alive for half a century, divided by 2 and subtracted by 10. Yay.)

In January; school had picked up and like the Army Officer it is, really started to tire me out. I was struggling with the work and the homework. It was a mess. It sounds fairly simple and in fact; I imagine many of you to be quite unimpressed by me because “kid, you don’t even know what tiredness is *rolls eyes*” — and you’re probably right, I do not. But you probably don’t know what it feels like to have to be up to the brim in GCSE coursework as well as revision because students love tests! (Wait–wait, maybe you do actually, okay well I had some mental stuff going on too so that counts?)

But again, I am straying off de topic. So anyways, Jan. Tiring. Made me very stressed. Stress is not good. Lotta spots for me, brother. I hate acne. Especially stressed-related ones. But. I. Digress. Again.

Which brings me to February; aww Feb. Poor, sweet, juvenile Feb. Always been a month that tends to fly by so quickly and probs the most boring – seriously though, what actually happens in Feb that is interesting? Nothing. That’s it. But, for me Feb; well Feb was an eye opener for sure. I’m not the type of person to beat around the bush for one thing so I’ll be out with it – quick'n'easy like a bandage.

I discovered two things; My mental state was way beyond fucked. Two? I’m not as strong as I thought I was.

And for me to have discovered this, well it was certainly big. You see my family is not the type of family to ask if ones okay and find the solution; we are more of the ‘ask if you’re okay but if you say anything out of the norm then forget it’ — we always have been. Well, at least I think we have. I’m not really close with my family, but I blame that on the stuff going up in my cranium.

So anyways, my head = not in a good state then (or now). Explanation? I don’t know.

In fact, I think it hasn’t been in a 'good state’ for a while. Possibly ever since the summer of '16 (and maybe before…?) which would mean whatever I’ve been manifesting is suddenly making itself known and to be honest the manifestation is quite large. I don’t know what I have to be frank; I don’t know if it’s depression or if it’s something else, in all honesty I feel kind of stupid for just assuming it’s 'depression’. I feel like that nowadays that word is tossed around so much it just feels stupid to say “I’m depressed” with anyone actually taking you seriously. Plus, I never thought I could be depressed or even in such a state of mind.

Which lead me to my epiphanic of uncovering the truth of my mental strength.

It isn’t that strong.

You see, I always thought for a long time in my life that I’m the type of person who doesn’t breakdown, who knows how to build themselves back up again if the going gets tough; the type of human who will never let themselves fall so far down the well of “depression” because I’m just not like that. Full stop.

But I realised in the second month of the year, that I’m none of that; I’m just extremely good at ACTING like I am. Like I am strong, like I can’t breakdown, like I can’t be “depressed”. I realised that I’m so used to being in this mind state that my head has adapted to feeling like this and since I have a slight fear of being mentally unwell; it simply taught me how to ACT like everything’s okay. When in fact…

Everything really isn’t fucking okay.

Now I could type here for ages and ages about my stresses, my worries, my problems etc etc but that would make this so long that it would be the equivalent of 3 Harry Potter books…aaaand since I’m not JKR and I don’t have that type of time; I’ll just summarise, summarise, summarise!

Here we go; so after my big discovery in Feb, it lead to all sorts of things — I started to become more aggressive and more sad; which led to more acting because even if I knew I had a mental health problem it still didn’t mean I wanted to get help or – god forbid ACTUALLY talk about it! So I started to distract myself; distractions, distractions, distractions = my best friend. The more I distracted myself, the more I (believed) had less time to dwell on my (rapidly becoming real) mental health illness. So I took up having some cigarettes from time to time because it made me feel calm and yes I know of the dangers but pocketing a couple of my dads cigarettes wasn’t going to kill me okay? Plus, I always told myself (still do now) to never buy my own pack because that for me would lead to an addiction. Amongst that; I did other things like lash out, do drugs (I DID THIS ONCE BTW) and just things that really weren’t good for me.

So with me doing all this and believing it would prolong my mental health illness awakening; I didn’t realise that instead of PROLONGING my MHI, I just kept feeding it. With all the things I did, they lead to consequences; every time I would smoke, I would feel bad– horrid even, the fear of becoming addicted lead to me feeling shameful (more for the MHI monster to eat), every time I would steal my dad’s wine bottle and drink it for myself, I would feel disappointed that I would stoop so low and thus gave the monster an even bigger meal and every time I tested my parents patience or acted kinda rude to my mates; it fed my monster STRESS because I would stress about what their reactions would be and ugh it was not good.

But here I am typing as if I overcame it all and everything is well again; for your information mi amiga; it ain’t. In fact I still am going through all this and frankly I’m tired. Exhausted. Fatigued. But knowing me and my coping methods; my brilliant acting skills will be back at it again for the next couple of months until I guess I break or something.

This whole text post sounds weird tbh; I don’t like how I’ve written it but it’s honest. And I have more to talk about as well but there just isn’t enough time in the day (or so I say) and besides; it gives me a good reason to post sooner.

However, regardless of all the bad; I have dipped a finger back into my pool of story writing and it’s been a good thing for me to say the least. Another distraction tbh but better than wallowing in my head and assuming the worst.

So yeah, that’s it. That’s all I’ve got. I would say more but the effort is too unreal. So this shall be a goodbye and goodnight.

- A

#been a while #big post #long reads #depression #actually I don't even know if it is #life #deep #young adult #oh dear #literally just using the wrong hashtags rn but oh well #christmas 2016 #2017

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