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2seokfan · 4 years

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Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 1

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 3.6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4

summary:

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year? So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a rollercoaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

note: Hi! This is my first fic ever! I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna read this but I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile so fuck it.

You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse on the couch.

“God my back hurts!”

Honestly with the amount of random bodily aches you experience on a daily business you could pass for being 70 years old. But this time you knew where the pain stemmed from. You just had to fall asleep awkwardly after a night on your phone. And of course today was a work day and you slept past all THREE of your alarms. But you know that feeling when you sleep for a suspiciously long amount of time and something doesn’t feel right? That’s the sixth sense that saved your ass this morning because your internal body clock was like sweetie I think you’re late.

You only had time to slap on some makeup, hoping it looked semi decent, and throw your greasy hair into a messy, but passable bun because no one wants to see an ugly receptionist. You had to skip your morning Starbucks drive-through routine because you’re about to be LATE, late so you grab your keys and start your car, booking it to work.

You work at a private hybrid clinic which pays a little better than most but that means you also have to deal with a lot of attitude from rich “owners” (you hate that word). And you sat weirdly at work today so that did nOThing to help your back pain. Also how come everybody decided to book an appointment today?? It’s Friday for god's sake why does everyone and their mothers decide it’s time to call the clinic and book a checkup. They get so mad at you when you say this whole month is filled. You can’t change the schedule though?? The calendar’s filled lady either get over it and settle for next month or fuck off (of course you don’t say that out loud cause you’ll get fired). Also someone yelled at you today because they didn’t like the magazine choices in the waiting room.

Anyways your day sucked and you couldn’t be happier being back in your tiny apartment to binge watch netflix stand-up comedies until you collapse. Well you say it’s your apartment but you actually have a roommate. She’s nothing like you though, she’s the epitome of responsibility. You agreed to live with her even though you met her through Craigslist because once you met her in person you deemed her genuine enough, and also found out she’s hardly ever at the apartment but she still pays rent on time?! You really hit the jackpot with her honestly. Cause you can be a little bit messy sometimes but even when she is home she never complains. The only negative side of having her as a roommate is that you never really had time to bond with her cause she’s so busy and over your league that even after a year you two still aren’t anything more than friendly acquaintances.

Alright time to get out of your work clothes and into nothing but your favorite oversized t-shirt with no pants on because that is what you deem home-appropriate attire. But before you turn on netflix your tummy is making “feed me” noises so it’s time to check the fridge. Damn no leftovers. Time to crack open one of those Trader Joe’s frozen meals you have stacked in the freezer. You blindly pick a box. Guess you’re having vegan tikka masala tonight. Not gonna lie though those frozen meals are actually not half bad. Or maybe you’ve been away from good home cooking for so long you’ve become desensitized? Who cares, you’re hungry. Also it’s Friday, so no harm in cracking open a bottle of wine right?

When you’re all settled on the couch with your favorite plush blanket on your legs, a random comedian on tv, and a full tummy, your mind drifts away. It’s Saturday tomorrow and you have the weekends off. Maybe you should do something fun for yourself to make up for the crap you had to deal with today. You text your best friend Karli. You know she’s awake since it’s only 10pm.

You: Hey girl wanna go to the beach or smth tmrw?? <3

Karli: Yaaas ok I don’t work!! What time?

You: and we can walk around all the fancy stores and get coffee from that place we love.

You: hmmm how bout meet there @11??

Karli: Sounds good sweetie want me to pick you up?

You: no its ok ill meet u there i need to buy groceries after

Karli: Kk love ya see you then!!!

You: love ya! night bby

Karli knows that when you say “go to the beach” you really mean walk along the beach and the nearby stores because it’s early June and prime tourist season. That means the sand is packed with people and their kids and the water’s probably filled with pee so you’re not really down for that. Also the expensive shops near the beach are so cute and you love walking around window shopping, pretending like you can actually afford any of the items on display.

The wine is now getting to you cause before you know it you find your eyelids getting heavy. You muster up your last ounce of strength to turn off the tv and force yourself out of the couch cause your poor back doesn’t need another excuse to keep hurting. As much as you don’t want to wash your face and brush your teeth, you have to because you don’t want makeup on your pillowcase tonight. And when you finally crawl into bed you knock out instantly.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Oh fuck…”

You forgot that drunk you last night set an alarm today for 9am. Thank you drunk Y/N.

Why 9am? Because you need to shower and get ready, plus the beach you’re going to is near the north part of the city, which is also the expensive part of the city, meaning it’s a LONG ways from where you live. But the stores are aesthetically pleasing and it contains both you and Karli’s favorite coffee shop so you’re willing to make the 25 minute drive. Karli doesn’t have to worry though because she lives a lot closer than you do. Girl has got her shit together. Honestly you’re just glad she decided to move back after graduate school cause the long distance friend thing sucks balls.

You hop in the shower and rinse yourself awake. The weather is perfect, warm but not too hot. Unlike many people who prefer to dress up for a nice outing, you’re just the opposite. You’ve been forced to dress in nice business attire with a full face of makeup all week. Hell no are you dressing up on your days off too. It’s a sweatpants and tank top kinda day so that’s exactly what you wear. Ever since college you’ve spoiled yourself into only wearing comfy clothes whenever you have the chance and it’s become a minor problem in your life. You have some perfectly nice jeans in the closet but you haven’t worn them in forever. And you’re not gonna wear them today either. And makeup? Who needs makeup? You’ll just go barefaced since you have no one to impress. Actually just kidding maybe a little concealer just to cover up a few rough spots but that’s IT. You’re still a little self conscious and you know you have to work on that but not today.

It’s now 10:15. You grab your purse from the couch, slip on your favorite pair of slides and head to your car. You’re the kind of person who absolutely needs music when you drive so you quickly start blasting your favorite playlist. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the beach area. Parking is hard to find on the weekend but your lucky ass managed to squeeze into a street parking spot right as someone pulls out. You lock your car and make the trek to Cozy Coffeehouse, your favorite coffee shop hands down.

Karli is already here and she’s hopping up and down, waving at you. She looks super cute today in her little black dress and fishnets. She’s had the same taste since high school and you’re glad that even a Master’s degree hasn’t stopped her from dressing all punk on her days off. You jog over and give her a quick hug.

“Hey girl look at you!! You’re so cute!” You take in her makeup and you swear if she didn’t go the corporate route she definitely should have been a makeup artist. Her eyeshadow is amazing and you’ll never ever have the blending talent that she has, nor could you ever get your eyeliner to look that sharp.

“Aw thanks! You look comfy though I’m kinda jealous now maybe I should’ve dressed down.”

“No I love your outfits! Besides, someone has to look nice in this relationship.”

You link arms and march into the cafe. It’s located near the fancy designer stores on a large hill overlooking the beach. When you step inside the whole atmosphere screams ‘cozy’, fitting its name perfectly. The interior is littered with mismatched sofas and armchairs but it somehow still looks aesthetically pleasing. Soft piano jazz is playing through speakers and when you step inside the delicious scent of freshly ground coffee beans immediately invades your nostrils.

You glance at their pastry display first. Today must be your lucky day because they have tiramisu and you absolutely love tiramisu but it’s usually sold out. No way in hell are you letting this chance slide, fuck breakfast norms you’re definitely getting a bite of that. Unfortunately you’re not a fan of sugary treats on top of sugary drinks so to balance things out you choose to order their house brew.

After you two order, you find a spot in one of the plush armchairs near the window and sit. You really are lucky today since window seats are usually taken. But not this time! You guys get to enjoy the gorgeous scenery displayed before you. The sun is bright, people are laying on the beach tanning, and kids are splashing each other with water. For the first time in awhile, you feel content with life, if only for a bit.

Before long your orders are called out and you stand up to retrieve them. Once you’re settled, you break into conversation with Karli, eager to catch up on everything that happened since you two last spoke face-to-face. You talk about work, Karli’s boyfriend Sunny, that new pizza place that opened up near your apartment that actually has really shitty pizza.

“Like seriously how do you fuck up pizza that badly?” you exclaim in between generous bites of tiramisu.

“No I get you,” Karli responds, slurping her iced mocha frappuchino, “everybody knows what pizza is supposed to taste like, I mean it’s gotta take talent to actually fuck it up to the level you’re describing girl.”

“Exactly!!” You wave your arms in the air, wanting to physically demonstrate your frustration at the situation and your passion for good pizza.

“Anyways…” Karli gently sets her drink down and takes on a more serious tone. “How are you though, honestly.”

“Hmm, me?” You swallow your last bite of tiramisu, “I’m doing good. Works ok, life’s ok. You know. Everything’s… ok.”

“I get that everything’s ‘ok’ but you know I want you to be more than ok. I want you to be happy”

You see the genuine concern in her eyes. Bless this girl for being so soft-hearted.

She continues, “And when was the last time you dated? Like, what, 2 years ago??”

Of course she has to mention dating. Karli has always been a romantic. You? Not so much. Your brain tended to err on the logical, practical side, which is not always a good idea since it keeps you away from many potential relationships.

“I date!” You scoff, but you’re not convincing anybody, least of all yourself.

“Oh really?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise, “Tinder one night stands don’t count babe. You know what I mean.”

“Well you didn’t specify…” You mumble, trying to come up with any excuse to defend your pride. You know she’s just being a good friend and that she’s asking because she cares about you, so you don’t let her questions irritate you.

“Sweetie I’m not trying to make you feel bad and I’m sorry if it comes across that way. It’s just… you mean a lot to me and you’re my bestie and I just want to see you be happy.” She takes your hand from across the table and looks you in the eyes. “We don’t get to see each other as much as we used to, so when I do I want to check in on how you’re doing.”

Then she averts her eyes, which you find highly suspicious. “Also I may or may not have found someone who I KNOW will be a perfect match for you.”

“AHA I KNEW you were leading up to something!”

“Wait but hear me out. He’s an accountant and at first I was like hmmm is he too boring for Y/N? But then I realized I was judging him by his job and that’s not cool so I talked to him and he’s, like, actually super cute and super sweet and I think you two will get along so well!” She’s speaking very fast at this point, trying to squeeze out as much information as possible before you can interject. Then she finishes with one of her signature Karli smiles, big and wide and all teeth and she knows you can’t say no to that face.

“Dammit. Fine.” You lost this round. “Alright if he wants to meet up I won’t say no. How bout that?”

“Gee that’s so thoughtful of you Y/N.” Her tone is sarcastic but she’s still smiling so you know she means no harm.

After another half hour of conversation, locked in a heated debate about food again (this time she’s defending her stance that pineapple belongs on pizza), Karli’s phone rings. The sound scares the poor girl half to death, and watching her jump a mile from her couch had you snorting into your coffee mid drink.

She looks at the caller ID, muttering under her breath, “It’s Saturday what do they want?” then glances up with a sad little pout, “Sorry Y/N it’s work gimme a sec…”

From what you can hear on her side of the conversation, something has come up and she has to head to the office right away.

“Ok I’ll be there in fifteen,” she hangs up and gives an exaggerated “Ughhhhh”. She takes one large gulp, finishing the last of her ultra sweet, ultra whipped frappuccino. “It’s like they can’t do anything when I’m not there.” She looks especially apologetic when her eyes land back on you, “I’m so sorry I have to cut this short…”

“Hey it’s ok! Duty calls ya know,” you give her a reassuring grin, hoping it passes for a smile instead of a grimace. You were really hoping to hang out today.

“No it’s not ok. We didn’t even get to walk around today! And I know how much you like to do that.” She stands up, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, “so next time I’ll plan a day where I guarantee I won’t get interrupted. It’s the least I can do.”

“Mk sounds good babe,” you give her a big hug, “Go get ‘em tiger!”

After she exits the cafe you finish the last bit of your coffee and glance out the window, staring at the people on the beach. Wow it’s really crowded down there today. You zone in on two kids attempting to build a sandcastle, but it’s too close to the water so the waves flatten it in two seconds. But it seems they didn’t learn their lesson because they keep rebuilding the castle in the same spot. Just move it further up little dudes.

You find yourself lost in thought again. Just because Karli’s suddenly busy doesn’t mean you don’t still have a whole day to yourself. You can walk around on your own. Also why not treat yourself to another drink? A fun one this time from their specials menu.

Ten minutes later you find yourself wandering around the various shops, hot hazelnut latte in hand, gazing at display after display of designer clothes and bags. Look, you may not be a huge fashion person, or have any expendable cash, but a girl can still appreciate art, especially when it’s laid out so nicely in front of you.

Speaking of art, there’s an art gallery coming up that you absolutely love. You’ve always been too afraid to go inside because you’re the type of person who feels obligated to buy something if you enter a local store and you DEFinitely can’t afford anything there. So you opt to loiter outside, like some creep, looking a little too long at the featured art through the window. This time it’s an Impressionist style painting of a ship on hazy waters with a sunset in the background. You’re no artist but you can appreciate good quality work when you see it. The piece is mesmerizing and serene, transfixing you to the spot. Before you know it, you’ve been staring for 15 whole minutes.

While admiring the artist’s use of color on the display piece, you overhear a lady raising her voice not too far away, snapping you out of your trance. It sounds like drama, so being the nosy bitch that you are, you’re definitely gonna check it out, if only to satisfy your curiosity.

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ll be perfect for each other!! Where’s your owner I bet he’ll listen!” At this point the lady’s voice is sounding downright aggressive.

As you shuffle closer to the scene of the noise, you spot a middle-aged, blonde lady pointing her finger at two hybrid men, almost jabbing one of them in the chest with her sharp, ruby nails. Behind her stands a gorgeous female arctic fox hybrid who clearly belongs to her as she pats her owner’s shoulders, trying to calm her down.

“I’m sorry miss but we just aren’t interested.” The taller of the two hybrids with orange hair speaks up, gently pushing the lady’s hands away. “Please leave us alone.” He’s being surprisingly calm, even after getting yelled at in public.

“Yeah lady get out of our faces,” the other white and grey haired hybrid is definitely more agitated, crossing his arms as he huffs in annoyance. You don’t blame him since the blonde lady is being ridiculously rude.

You can’t really make out the two males’ faces, since they’re turned away from you, but they are obviously hybrids. Both having incredibly bushy, soft-looking tails and tall, pointy ears sticking out of their heads.

Even if you can’t see their expressions, you can tell they’re uncomfortable with the harassment. Since you’re still somewhat unaware of the context, you stay out of the argument but decide to keep an eye on the situation in case the lady steps out of line. You’re just slightly around the corner, able to stay a safe distance away so that no one, especially the lady, can catch you eavesdropping. Pretending to admire the Gucci purses displayed in front of the shop you’re now standing at, and almost choking at the price, you cautiously side-eye blondie as she refuses to back down from the hybrid boys.

“Listen here you rude little pets, I’m not leaving you alone until I see your owner. My Sylvia here,” she gestures to the fox hybrid behind her, “would make a perfect partner for you.” She pokes the orange haired hybrid again, “I’ve been searching so long for her to find a mate and I’m not giving you up! Now where the hell is your owner!”

What the fuck?! How dare this lady talk to them like that? And in public no less! You now know exactly why she’s yelling at them. Working at a private hybrid clinic has opened your eyes to the harsh world of hybrids, and their selfish, rich owners. It’s not uncommon for owners to negotiate with each other and breed their hybrids. If two pretty hybrids mate, their children can be sold for loads of money. It's cruel and disgusting, with many of the children sold off before they can even get to know their parents. You’re all too familiar with this tradition, often catching owners in the waiting room of your clinic discussing in whispers about buying and selling hybrid children as if they’re livestock.

“Hey what the fuck did you call us?!” The white and grey hybrid is now also raising his voice. “Listen you wrinkly bi…!” He is quickly silenced by the orange hybrid, who abruptly clamps his hand over his buddy’s mouth.

Orange hair clears his throat. “What he means is, we don’t appreciate the tone you’re using with us. Please leave us alone ma’am. We’ll be on our way. Goodbye.” They attempt to brush past her.

“Hey hold on a minute! I’m not done with you!!” This lady even has the balls to grab onto orange hair’s arm. “I demand to speak to your owner!” Then some sort of realization dawns upon her because her eyes go wide, then quickly narrow. “And where are your collars? Aren’t owned hybrids supposed to have collars on? You know I just might have to call Hybrid Services.”

You can see the boys visibly tense at her words as she sports a satisfied smirk. Poor Sylvia is now gently tugging on her shirt. “Please calm down, miss…” she says desperately trying to remedy the situation.

Before you know it, and without any plan of action, you round the corner and march up to the boys, standing defensively in front of them.

“Um…” You gulp, then clear your throat, speaking in what you hope is a more confident tone. “Sorry I took so long guys! You wouldn’t believe the line at the coffee shop!”

#bts fic #bts hybrid au #hoseok fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfction #hybrid hoseok #hybrid yoongi #bts hybrid fic

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cherryrogers · 5 years

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bittersweet {2}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of illness + death.

synopsis: The world of boxing wasn’t something you knew much about, but after a certain boxer with blue eyes and an irresistible charm wove his way into your heart, you soon learned that it went far deeper than red gloves and gold medals — you thought that the boxer happening to be your brother’s best friend was bad enough, but darker affairs had only yet to come to light.

a/n: this one is a long one folks,,, i just couldn’t help myself :)) also the italics at the start are a flashback, just in case anyone was confused - please enjoy !!

Series Masterlist

Three months.

It’d been three months since Sarah Rogers passed.

You hadn’t even noticed the date as you plodded downstairs, making your way into the kitchen and praying that your brother hadn’t eaten the last of the bread, eager to make yourself some toast for breakfast.

Steve had left early in the morning, heading off to his first training session at the local boxing gym. You offered to go with him, just for some moral support, but he insisted that you spent the morning in bed rather than sitting in a cold training room.

So, you spent the morning wrapped in a fluffy blanket, basking in the darkness of your bedroom. Tired eyes begging to flutter shut. A sad mind not allowing them to do so. The moment that you let exhaustion subdue you, all you could dream about was her. Laying weakly in the hospital bed, a thin, faded blue duvet hiding the equally thin legs she’d barely used for months. Her brows furrowed slightly in discomfort, lips chapped, bony fingers weakly clasped in her lap. You wanted to reach out to her, take her cold hand in yours and tell her she’d be okay. But the moment your fingertips were about to graze her skin, she’d disappear. Everything would disappear, and you’d be left completely alone.

It hurt less to just avoid sleep all together.

After finding the bag of bread, which had three slices left inside of it, you absentmindedly checked the expiration date on the small tag around the twisted plastic. Grocery shopping was something you and Steve were slowly getting better at doing without your mom around, but that didn’t mean expired, untouched food wasn’t still hiding in your kitchen.

The neutral expression on your face saddened quickly, eyeing the date of expiration written in bold, black letters.

OCTOBER 15TH.

You’d heard the phrase before, that time was only a construct. An age-old system to keep humanity in order. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day... You understood the math, but there was a lot of things about time that you didn’t understand. Like how months could pass in the blink of an eye, yet the hours within them felt like years. How you had spent almost eighteen years being raised by someone you loved so dearly, eighteen years of smiles and laughs and always having a shoulder to cry on, yet the three months you’d been without it all felt like an agonising eternity. How could the science of time explain that?

Suddenly, you’d lost your appetite.

Plopping yourself on a stool, you leaned your elbows against the hard marble countertop, letting your chin rest lazily in your palms. And again, time had lost its structure. For what you thought had been thirty seconds, your eyes stared aimlessly into space, not having anything particular on your mind. You wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow in sorrow. To let a frown sit on your lips for more than a moment. That was what would happen if you thought about her, so you didn’t.

The click of the front door unlocking brought you from your empty trance. Soon enough, your brother was in view, looking at you with curiosity. Dark circles were still evident under his eyes, not as bad as they used to be, however. For the first time in a while, his body didn’t look tensed up. The crease between his normally crinkled brows wasn’t so noticeable, and shade of his irises were... well, they were blue.

Not dark blue, or blueish grey, but a bright, sky-blue. Just like they used to be.

“How long have you been sitting there?” The boy asked, placing his gym bag on the counter.

You glanced up at the clock. Thirty minutes. Not thirty seconds, but thirty minutes you’d been perched on the stool, eyes fixed on nothing.

“Not long.” You responded, forcing the corner of your lips to curl into an unconvincing smile.

Steve only nodded, fiddling with his fingers subconsciously. “You know what day it is, kid?”

Your fake smile faded quickly as you lowered your gaze. “Yeah. It sorta still hasn’t, you know... set in yet. That she’s gone.”

“I know,” The blond rounded the counter, placing himself on the stool next to you. In the corner of your eye, you noticed the slight frown on his face. “You’ve just gotta give it time.”

Time. You weren’t sure what time meant to you anymore.

Sighing, you turned your head to the side, still not looking at him directly, but allowing yourself to see him better. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For ruining your mood. You look sad; you didn’t look sad when you walked in here.”

“You haven’t made me sad, (Y/N). It just... it’s a hard day. But we’ll get through it together, alright?”

“Alright,” You agreed quietly, feeling better when you saw a soft smile reappear on his lips. “How was it, then? Your first training session?”

Steve’s smile widened, appreciating your interest in the morning he’d had. “Good. Really good, actually. Made a friend, in fact.”

You quirked a brow in response. “Really? Didn’t know you were capable of doing that, Steve.”

“You know, for a moment, I thought you were being nice to me.” He playfully glared at you, unable to pretend to stay mad when you giggled quietly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” You nudged your knee against his. “You know I love you really.”

“Hm, love you too, kid.” Although his tone had a hint of sarcasm in it, you could tell by his eyes that his words were genuine.

“Anyway, carry on. Tell me about your friend.”

“Well, his name is Bucky-”

“Bucky? Never heard of anyone called Bucky before.”

“It’s a nickname - his real name’s James.”

“Oh, right. I guess Bucky’s a cooler name than James.”

“Great; now that’s established, will you let me talk?”

There was a different aura to Steve that day. Sure, like he said, it was a sad day. Except, it wasn’t like the sad days you’d had over the past three months. The boy wasn’t stuck in his pyjamas, living off black coffee and giving you a half-assed conversation like you’d reluctantly gotten used to. He was... your brother. The brother that you hadn’t truly talked to for a while. The brother that you needed then more than ever.

Maybe it was because of that new friend of his.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Go on, Stevie. What’s Bucky like then?”

* * *

“Steve?”

The blond’s head shot up at the sound of his name, raising a brow at you from across the kitchen counter. Elbows pressed against the marble, chin being held up by your palms. You began to feel a little déjà vu in your current position, fragments of a not-so-distant memory piecing together in your mind.

That was two years ago. Two years since your brother finally stopped pushing you away. Two years since you got your Steve back. You wondered if he even knew how important that day was to you.

“I was wondering...” You started, nervously tapping your shoe against the counter. “Could I come with you to the match tomorrow?”

You’d been putting the question off all week, worried that a slight waver in your tone or a glimmer in your eyes would give everything away. There was even a moment where you considered just not going. Maybe you were getting in over your head - going on a date with Bucky. It was only meant to be a one-off. One makeout. One bit of fun with the hot boxer at the gym.

However, he wasn’t just the hot boxer at the gym. He was Bucky Barnes. The person that other than you, Steve trusted with his life. Steve was a good man with good judgement. If Bucky wasn’t a genuine guy at heart, there was no way Steve would think so much of him. Perhaps the boxer wasn’t going to be just a one-off, perhaps he could be more than that. More than just your brother’s best friend.

All you knew was that the way he made you feel, was pretty amazing. If you felt like that all the time, you sure as hell would be the happiest woman alive. You wanted to feel like that again, and you weren’t sure that there were many guys who could do that for you, not the way that he did.

“You wanna go to Bucky’s match?”

“Well, I know how much boxing and Bucky mean to you - I think it’d be cool for me to get an insight into this side of your life.” You weren’t actually lying; Steve had always kept the boxing part of his life separate from you. He knew fighting could get brutal sometimes, and he dreaded every time you’d have to see him with a black eye and bruises scattering his skin.

Steve didn’t fight as often as Bucky did, but he liked the competition every once in a while. He always went to his best friend’s matches, though.

The blond nodded, retrieving a fork from the utensil drawer and placing it into the bowl of noodles he’d made for you. “Okay, sure. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Okay.” You quietly sighed in relief as the bowl was placed in front you, and you quickly lifted some noodles into your mouth to hide the wide smile threatening to overcome your face.

The boy moved over to the sink, delving his hands into the soapy water and beginning to wash some dishes. A breathy laugh left his lips. “I just can’t believe you hadn’t met him until Monday. College must be keepin’ you busy.”

“Believe me, it is,” You slurped a noodle into your mouth, causing your brother to scrunch up his nose at you. After moving out and starting college, it was hard enough for you to hang out with Steve, nevermind meet any of his friends. “He seemed nice.”

Nice. It sure was nice when his hands were sliding under your skirt-

“Nice?” Steve snorted, making your knit your brows together in confusion.

“Yeah? Why’s that funny?”

“I mean, he’s not an asshole. Must’ve cleaned up his act since he knew he was talkin’ to my sister. Last time I tried to interrupt his training, he almost knocked my teeth out,” He chuckled at the memory. “He’s only nice when he wants something - usually if he’s tryin’ to chat up a girl.”

Restraining yourself from choking on your noodles, you tried to muster out a nonchalant reply. “You think he was chatting me up?”

“Kid, if I thought he was gonna try something with you, his match tomorrow would be the least of his worries.” Oh. “But he told me he’s takin’ a girl out after the match, so I don’t think that there’s anything to worry about.”

Shit. He told Steve he was going on a date? Was he trying to expose the both of you? Maybe he wasn’t as paranoid as you were about the whole ordeal, but you were confident that your paranoia was perfectly justified.

All in all, for the moment, everything was fine. You were going to the match, and you were going on a date with Bucky - Steve wasn’t suspicious. Everything was fine, and everything would be fine.

Hopefully, you could say the same after Friday.

* * *

There was a reason you tended not to hang out with Steve and Peggy.

Not that you didn’t like Peggy, as she was one of the kindest women you’d ever met, and she was perfect for your brother. However, trailing behind them like a lost puppy as you were guided through the gym wasn’t exactly ideal.

You’d never been to the main room before where the proper boxing ring was. It was a lot larger than you’d imagined, and the dimmed lights made it hard to actually, well, see anything.

Steve turned around, taking your forearm and pointing you over to a row of seats closest to the ring. “We’re gonna go find Bucky before the match starts, you wanna sit down?”

“You’re leaving me alone? Why can’t I come with you?” You asked, the numerous amount of strangers surrounding the room making you nervous.

“Someone has to make sure no one takes our seats, kid,” He shrugged, patting your shoulder gently. “We won’t be long.”

Before you could even begin to object, the couple walked away from you, weaving between bodies and eventually leaving your sight.

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sighing, you quickly paced over to the seats and plopped yourself down on the one furthest to the left, the cold plastic causing goosebumps on your bare thighs. You’d worn your best skirt that night, one that made you practically exert confidence. You were ready for the match to start, ready for it to finish, and super ready for your date with Bucky.

Well, that was if he won.

The thought alone of seeing him again in his boxing attire caused a blush to coat your cheeks - a white undershirt, grey shorts, sweaty, glowing skin, his biceps flexing as he threw a punch, back muscles tensed... fuck. If the night ended without you being able to kiss him again, you’d be pretty disappointed.

While in your daze, another figure took a seat next to you before giving your shoulder a nudge. The contact made you jump a little, but after turning to face whoever just invaded your personal space, you couldn’t help but let out a confused laugh.

Peter Quill had made himself comfortable next to you, hugging a box of popcorn against his stomach as he sent you cocky smile. Oh, lord.

You’d met the guy at a party in your freshman year of college, and you might’ve made out with him for a little while at said party. Easily the dumbest drunken idea you’d had, since the boy never left you alone after that night. However, you liked Peter. He was good company, sometimes. When he wasn’t making stupid jokes and generally be annoying, you were sort of glad you’d locked lips with him that night.

Not that you’d ever do it again. The thought alone made you grimace.

“Peter?” You raised a brow at him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to watch the match, obviously,” He replied in a ‘duh’ tone, causing you to glare at him. He extended the box of popcorn out to you, waving it in front of your face. “You want some?”

“I’m good, thanks,” You pushed it away, turning your body to face him better. “I didn’t know you were interested in boxing.”

The boy chuckled, flicking his fringe out of his face. “Well, I actually do a bit of boxing myself. I train here on the weekends.”

“Seriously?”

��Uh huh. How d’you think I got as ripped as I am, (Y/N)?”

“Clearly not by your diet,” You nodded your head towards the large box in his hands, causing him to mumble something about Fridays ‘being a cheat day’. “So, do you know my brother?”

“Your brother?” He questioned. “Who’s your broth-”

“Quill,” God, dammit. “You have five seconds to stop talking to my sister before I drag you outta that seat myself.”

A groan fell from your lips, looking up to see Steve with his eyes narrowed at the boy next to you.

“Steve, it’s alright. We go to college together.” You assured him, seeing Peter’s puzzled expression in the corner of your eye.

“Wait... you’re Steve Rogers’ sister?” His eyes darted between you and your brother before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never knew you were a Rogers, (Y/N).”

“It’s been longer than five seconds...”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave.” Peter huffed, getting up from next to you and beginning to walk away. You mouthed an apology to him, feeling bad that your brother had scared him away, just like you were sixteen and back in high school.

Steve only sighed contently, sitting down where Peter previously was and motioning for Peggy to sit on the other side of him.

“You know, there was no need to do that.” You uttered, jutting out your bottom lip at Steve, who scoffed at your annoyed expression.

“You can do better than Quill, kid. Trust me.”

“Oh my god, I’ve been friends with him for almost a year. He’s harmless,” You elbowed him lightly, lowering your head and smirking as you mumbled your next words. “Joke’s on you, though; I already made out with him last year.”

Steve had a harsher glare on you than he had on Peter. “Are you serious right now?”

“Uh huh, and I’ll do it again if it irritates you that much.”

“(Y/N), I swear-”

“Shut it, the both of you,” Peggy warned, instantly making you and your brother zip your lips. If there was one thing you admired about Peggy, it was that she never took anyone’s shit, including yours and Steve’s childish squabbles. “The match is about to start.”

After sharing a mutual ‘I’m still annoyed with you but I’m sorry’ look with your brother, you both laid your eyes on the ring, which now had a bulky man standing in its centre. His voice in the microphone bounced off the walls of the room, and hearing him introduce Bucky to the ring sent a shiver down your spine.

Cheers and whistles erupted in the crowd, which you didn’t even realise was so large until you took a moment to analyse the filled seats as much as you could in the faded light. Steve shouted out a supportive ‘you’ve got this, Buck’ from next to you, and your heart skipped a little as your eyes landed on the boxer.

Those fire truck red gloves covered his hands again, squishing slightly as he punched them together while he psyched himself up. This time, however, his top half wasn’t hidden behind a piece of clothing, and dear god, that man had definitely been carved by the Lord himself.

The referee was introducing the opposing boxer, but you weren’t remotely focused on what he was saying as your eyes travelled the surface of Bucky’s torso, deciding that you never wanted to see him in a shirt again. Ever.

Eventually, you flicked your gaze up to his face, and heat pooled in your cheeks as you saw him looking right back at you, blue eyes twinkling under to harsh lights above the ring. A smirk played on his lips, probably having noticed you practically drooling over him. Before he was handed his mouth guard, Bucky sent you a wink, and you were incredibly grateful that your brother was too busy whispering in his girlfriend’s ear to notice - disgusted, but grateful.

The other boxer had a scowl on his face, glaring hardly at Bucky as they both got into position, ready to fight. Anticipation arised in your body, hoping that the following forty minutes would consist of Bucky kicking ass so that he could get you out of the club soon after.

And well? Your wish was happily granted.

You had to reapply your lip-gloss quickly towards the end of the match since you were constantly biting on your bottom lip as you watched Bucky in his element. Sure, he took a few hits here and there. But by the end of the match, you couldn’t shake the smile from your face as you watched Bucky raise his hands in victory, the crowd cheering even louder than at the beginning.

The sound of chatter filled the room as everyone started to get up from their seats, and as you pulled the strap of your small clutch over your shoulder, you felt a nudge on your upper arm.

“You want a ride home?” Steve asked, still noticeably annoyed from your last conversation, but there was a softness to his tone.

You shook your head as casually as possible. “Thanks, but I’m going out tonight. Nat’s gonna pick me up.”

Tell Natasha about the hot boxer you’d got yourself a date with, you noted to yourself, realising you hadn’t even mentioned him to your best friend yet because of the sheer paranoia that Steve might somehow hear it from her.

“Oh, alright,” He nodded. “Where you goin’?”

“Just a party.” You shrugged, earning yourself a sigh from your brother.

“Okay, well no alcohol, kid. It destroys your liver.”

Peggy backhanded his arm gently. “Steve, she’s not a child. Let her be.”

“Drinking age is twenty one, Peggy. The girl’s not drinking.”

“The girl has a name, you know,” You groaned, crossing your arms. “I won’t drink, alright? Now get outta here - Natasha will be here soon.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve took a step towards you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you lightly. “Be careful, and text me when you’re home.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

* * *

“(Y/N)?”

A voice calling your name startled you as you turned around, clutching a hand to your chest. Breathing out in relief, you couldn’t help but curl your lips at the sight of Bucky. While he was no longer shirtless, the look he was styling now was one you’d also love to have him never change out of. Ever.

Bucky was freshly showered, making his hair look softer, and the beads of sweat that previously formed on his hairline had been cleansed away. The dark blue shirt he wore fitted perfectly on his figure, tucked neatly into a pair of black jeans, while a black quilted jacket sat on his shoulders, pulling the look together.

“James,” You greeted him, pushing yourself off the wall of the corridor. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks, gorgeous,” He grinned, stepping towards you and putting a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the doors of the gym out into the parking lot. “Would’ve been real disappointing if I lost.”

“Yeah, it would’ve,” You nodded, leaning into his arm as the cold air breezed past your skin. “Because I’ve been looking forward to this date, you know — are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Aw, how sweet.” He smirked, earning an eye roll from you. The boxer lead you over to his car, where he opened up the passenger door for you, allowing you to slide into the comfortable leather seat as he whipped around to the driver’s side.

“And to answer your question...” Bucky shuffled in his seat before starting up his car. “Well, have you ever been to the Fall Carnival?”

Memories of a time far, far back resurfaced in your mind. Crinkled leaves. Loud music. The sweet scent of pumpkin spice. “When Steve and I were kids, our mom used to take us every year. Even if it was pouring with rain, that woman would power through and take us there anyway - even when all the rides were closed, she’d take us just so we could each win one of those massive teddy bears on one of the stalls.”

You let out a laugh, fondly reminiscing on the tradition that had slipped your memory until now.

Bucky smiled empathetically, having knowing what happened to your mom after being Steve’s rock since he joined the boxing club. “Sounds like it was real fun.”

“It was,” You nodded, playing with the silver bracelet on your wrist absentmindedly. “As we got older, though, Steve and I would just go by ourselves. We thought she just didn’t want to parade around a carnival with two teenagers anymore, but... well, that’s when she started getting sick.”

God. This was meant to be your first date with Bucky, and you were already spilling your heart out to him. Not that you didn’t like talking about your mom, but you didn’t want to put a damper on the mood of your date.

“Steve talked about her a lot,” Bucky spoke up, causing your gaze to flick up to him. “Your mom... she sounded like a great woman. Wish I could’ve met her.”

“I think she would’ve liked you, Bucky.”

Bucky. You realised that you’d just referred to him by his nickname, but it just felt right in that moment. To Steve, the guy who brought him out of his funk and helped him become the man he is, was Bucky. Not James, but Bucky.

“So,” You chuckled, noticing the soft smile that had formed on Bucky’s lips at your words, but deciding to end the conversation about your mom on a positive note. “You gonna win me some stuffed animals tonight?”

And his signature smirk had crept its way back into his face. “Only if you win me some too. I’ve already had one win tonight, Rogers. S’only fair to balance it out.”

“Okay, fair enough.” You leaned back in the car seat as Bucky pulled the vehicle out of the parking space.

It didn’t take long to drive to the carnival, and the car ride was rather pleasant. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, but as you hummed along to the melodies playing from the radio and Bucky tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, conversation wasn’t really needed.

After arriving at the enterance of the carnival, Bucky enveloped your hand in his as you walked through the different rides and colorful stalls, eyeing the prizes at each one of them so you knew which games were worth playing. Shrill screams and hearty laughter rang all around you, coming from the families and young couples that seemed to be populating the area. The smell of pumpkin spice soon entered your nose, and it immediately brought a strong wave of nostalgia with it.

A light squeeze on your hand brought your attention back to Bucky, who was almost beaming down at you.

“So, I was thinking,” He started, pulling a curious expression onto your face. “Maybe we could engage in a little... friendly competition.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, a little confused, but intrigued. “And what does this competition entail, James?”

“We, are gonna go to every stall here and each play a round at the games. By the end, whoever can collect the most prizes for the other person wins.”

“Wins what, exactly?” You challenged.

“Anything they want,” The boxer smirked. “I’ll let you know when I win.”

With a scoff, you yanked your hand from his grasp and placed both of them on your hips, a confident expression plastered on your face. “Bold of you to assume that you’re gonna win.”

“Bold of you to assume I ever lose, (Y/N).”

“Alright, you’re on.” You smiled, turning your back to him as your eyes darted around the grand selection of games for you to play against Bucky. Skee-ball, the ring toss, whac-a-mole... all games you’d destroyed Steve at as a kid.

This was going to be fun.

And so, the competition began. Grasping onto Bucky’s hand, you proceeded to guide him all through the carnival, determined to make his boxing win the only win he got that night.

You started off on a bit of a winning streak, defeating Bucky at the balloon shooting game and other stalls that required patience and mental strategy. A smug grin sat on your lips as you passed the boxer a large, pink teddy bear with a white bow around its neck, which he took reluctantly. Confidence was surging through you at that point, however, it was soon about to be crushed as you got round to the physical games. Not that you weren’t considerably strong, but Bucky was a boxer. He was definitely at an unfair advantage.

By the time you got to the high-striker, the final game, you were tied. Bucky smiled fondly as you clutched the abnormally large hammer in your hands, eyes narrowed in focus, before you struck it down on the lever as hard as you could. The puck shot up to around the half way point, before falling back down with a clink. During Bucky’s turn, however, the guy hit the lever with a lot more force, causing the puck to spring up and trigger the bell at the top to ring, indicating his success.

Now it was his turn to smile cockily at you, handing you an enormous, soft stuffed penguin as you attempted to bite back a grin.

“What did I tell you, babydoll? I never lose.”

“Alright, James. You win,” You sighed, unable to stop your smile widening. The both of you must’ve looked ridiculous - at least ten stuffed animals, large and small, were tucked under each of your arms. The abundance of fluff and warmth was helpful in keeping the cold away from your body, but you needed to put the damn things down. “How about we put the stuffed animals in your car, and then you can tell me what you want your final prize of the night to be?”

The boxer nodded slowly, and the two of you took a stroll back to the car until you reached your destination, him being immodestly proud of his win against you. Bucky helped to take all of the stuffed animals out of your arms and did his best to fit them all in the trunk, along with the many you won for him.

After shutting the trunk, Bucky turned to you, lips curling up as his eyes swept over your face.

“Can I tell you somethin’, Rogers?”

You nodded, feeling your heart rate speed up a little from the question.

“Steve... he’s my best friend. You told me the other day that you didn’t like hidin’ stuff from him, and trust me, I don’t either. I was thinkin’ that this wasn’t such a good idea, takin’ you out.”

The boxer saw a glint of worry appear in your eyes at his words, and quickly reached forward to grab your hands in his.

“But, I’ve been trying to find a flaw in you, (Y/N). Anything that might be a sign we shouldn’t be doing this. And... and I can’t. Every time you told me somethin’ about yourself tonight, I only wanted to find out more about you. Not Steve’s younger sister, but you, (Y/N) - I wanna know you more.”

God, he looked so perfect under the moonlight. Baby blue’s trained only on you, soft lips parted slightly, a light stubble on his jaw that you wanted to trace your thumb across. A few small cuts and bruises on his face from the fight, barely beginning to heal, but not taking away any of his beauty in the slightest.

You wanted to know him too. Not just Steve’s best friend, but him, James Buchanan Barnes.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, James,” You took a step forward, pressing your hands against his chest. “Is this your way of asking for a second date?”

“Maybe,” Bucky teased, snaking his arms around your waist. His eyes lowered to your glossy lips, subconsciously leaning towards you as he inhaled a nervous breath. “Is is alright if I...”

His voice trailed off when his lips began to brush against yours, and within a second, he was kissing you.

The kiss was different to your first. It wasn’t hungry, or fuelled by lust. But gentle, meaningful. Signifying the start of something you weren’t at all expecting, but eager and excited to pursue.

The moment was one of those moments, where time didn’t follow its usual rules. Because you swore that when your lips met his, time completely stopped. The world around had paused, and all that was left to play out was the intimate moment that you and Bucky were sharing.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, your nose just grazing his. Time proceeded to continue, the blaring music from the carnival able to be heard again, the coolness of the air hitting you once more.

“Your prize, Bucky,” You said quietly, drawing circles on his chest over the soft material of his shirt. “You still haven’t told me what you want for your win.”

Chuckling, the boxer simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s okay, gorgeous. I think I just got my prize.”

Well, fuck. That one made your heart swell.

Your mind wandered back to Steve. Could there be any way he’d be fine with you and Bucky? Would there be any sort of outcome where he didn’t end up hating you?

The answers to those questions weren’t clear, but one thing was - you wanted to take your chances with Bucky Barnes, because when he kissed you, it suddenly wasn’t about your brother anymore. It didn’t matter if it was wrong, on your part or Bucky’s. All that mattered was that this was what you wanted.

And if Steve didn’t like that? Well, that was a bridge to cross when you got to it.

It was bittersweet, really. On one hand, your heart ached from lying to the blond you’d been through hell and back with. But on the other, your heart was positively melting at his best friend’s charm.

Bittersweet. Yes, that was the perfect word to describe it.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #boxer!bucky #boxer!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au

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angelicspaceprince · 5 years

Text

Alive

Author: Ama

Title: Alive

Pairing: Beelzebub/Reader, Friendship!Aziraphale/Reader/Crowley mentioned, squint and you’ll miss it Friendship!Aziraphale/Beelzebub/Crowley I guess?

Character/s: Beelzebub, Aziraphale, Crowley, mentions of God.

Word Count: 3, 459 words

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, cancer treatment, a bit about what happens to your body when we die, nightmares, mentions of death. I think that’s it.

Tags: @elyshakate, @trelaney, @corvids-of-the-skeleton-tree

Summary: Beelzebub doesn’t get it. Cancer is not a cold, it’s not temporary, this thing will kill you. But they don’t seem to care and even when you fight to stay alive, it’s not until a certain angel intervenes that they realise what they’ve already lost.

Notes: So, y’all can blame trelaney for this one and me listening to Alive by Sia on repeat for the past hour. We have been talking about Good Omens hcs for a while now and she brought this one up and its been eating at me ever since/I pretty much said yep I’m gonna write a fic about this so everyone can cry. So if y’all are upset with the concept, I’m not to blame. Plot bunnies were provided, I just ran with them.

First time writing Beelzebub, it’s probs OOC, I do not give a shit but don’t come running to me crying ‘this isn’t Beelzebub’, suck it it is now. Beelzebub also uses them/they pronouns. It might not be canon, but it is here.

Buy Me a Coffee

Alive

You were alone when you got told that you needed to go in for further testing, alone when you went for the scans, alone when you got the results. You kept everything hush hush, not wanting any drama or to raise concern when it could be a false positive.

But it wasn’t.

Cancer. Brain cancer. Glioblastoma multiforme to be exact. Pretty advance, the doctors gave you a realistic prognosis of six months, and a hopeful prognosis of twelve months at most. You didn’t cry when you got the news, didn’t cry on the way home, didn’t cry as you cooked and ate dinner alone. You held it in, waiting until the quiet of the night took over and you knew you were truly alone and that’s when the sobs became to rack your body.

You were too young! How could you be given a prognosis of twelve months, at best, at your age? You knew you were going to die one day, but you expected quite a few more decades before it happened.

You didn’t sleep that night, spent most of your time crying and trying to figure out what was going to happen next. You had to tell people, had to plan what was going to happen when eventually treatment stopped working, what you wanted once you died.

You have to tell B.

Being in a relationship with Beelzebub has been hard, but worth it. Some emotions were clear on their face, anger, annoyance, frustration, but others were not, such as love. You knew B loved you, they wouldn’t have spent time with you if they didn’t like you or put up with your human tendencies if they thought you to be beneath them, but sometimes it was hard to gauge if they truly loved you. It was always hard to bring news to them because their emotional reaction would always be a little….off. This was something that you weren’t looking forward to telling your partner.

You told your partner about the doctor’s visit the next morning. Beelzebub always made sure that they had the mornings with you seeing that their nights were rarely free. For the first time ever, you really had hoped that some unexpected hellish business had kept B away from you that morning, you still hadn’t processed the news. Still hadn’t accepted your fate. And even though it was hard, you managed to get the words out.

No reaction.

That’s what hurt you most of all, you think. Beelzebub didn’t even seem to care. Out of all the emotions you could read on Beelzebub’s face, none seem to pass them. You got the tests alone, the results alone, the prognosis alone. But telling B and explaining what the doctors had said? Made you feel the most alone you felt during the entire process.

You started on chemo and radiation, wanting to prolong your life as long as possible. You spoke to Aziraphale about life after death for humans and his answers, although philosophical, did nothing to ease your mind into thinking there was an afterlife for humans where you could continue to be with Beelzebub, if that is what they wanted. B was there every morning to help you with your medication and the subsequent nausea and vomiting that followed. They once asked why you were doing this and appeared confused when you told them it was to length your life. Surely you didn’t want to go through all this torture just for a few more measly months? But still, they continued to help where they could. You asked for them to take time away from hell to be with you, but they refused. You would still be there in the morning, why disrupt business as usual?

You continued to waste away. You become frail and unable to move without assistance. Aziraphale and Crowley are literal God sends during this time. Crowley would always hiss and say he’d talk to the love of your life, but you always asked him not to. It’ll be fine. Beelzebub knows that you’re sick and, they’re right. Why disrupt business as usual for one, insignificant human? Eventually, however, even Beelzebub could see how ill you had become, nothing but skin and bone, being wasted away from the sickness.

Then the seizures started.

The first one was a shock. You were so angry at Beelzebub not being able to understand that you wouldn’t just bounce back from this. No matter how many times you tried to explain it, they just didn’t seem to get it. Suddenly, all the anger of being sick and dying way before your prime and before you could enjoy a long like with the Prince of Hell just exploded from you. You screamed and raved about how this wasn’t a cold or the flu, this was serious. You asked them if they even loved you because it feels like they don’t, you need them right now and they are not there for you. When Beelzebub asked why you were so upset about this when you would just wake up in the morning, healthy as ever, you wanted to scream. Instead, you fried.

You collapsed on the floor as your brain began to overheat, body jerking uncontrollably. For the first time ever, Beelzebub felt out of control. No demonic miracle they tried got you to stop so they decided that, for once, they’d ask for a human’s help. They got you to A&E where you were instantly admitted into the hospital before into a room once they got the seizure under control. Quickly, it was decided that you needed to stay at the hospital and you weren’t going to be able to leave. Beelzebub didn’t leave your side once you were admitted, only once to go back to your place and get some things to make the barren walls seem more like home.

You barely made it to the five-month mark. Towards the end, there was nothing of you left. Seizures continued. They were quick to strike and intermittent. Some lasted for a few moments, most lasted for at least 10 minutes, and some very rare ones lasted for over an hour. They were horrid, your brain felt like it was being fried every single time as B just sat with you. But, as time went on, they became more regular and prolonged. You struggled to maintain your breathing after four days in hospital. It was decided that your airway would remain unassisted. The rattle of your throat unnerved Beelzebub, but they stayed regardless, their hand never leaving yours. They stayed in the room, even when you were being washed but did not assist. The nurses looked unnerved enough at the Prince of Hell’s attire and lack of desire to leave your room or even eat. They played your favourite music and read to you, spoke about things down in hell that was being managed for them. It was as if it was a rare night where Beelzebub could actually take the time to spend with you and you alone. Aziraphale and Crowley visited often, spoke to you as you continued to apparently dream and made sure Beelzebub was ok and asked if they needed a break. They always said no. They’d rather watch you sleep. You looked peaceful when you were like this and Beelzebub could almost convince themselves that you were snoring whenever the rattle could be heard.

It was a rainy Sunday morning when you died. Beelzebub was holding your hand and reading to you a book you never got to finish. When B got to the end of the last page, they could almost hear you sigh as you breathed in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out.

Nothing.

With a smile, Beelzebub closed the book and put it to the side and waited, hand on yours as it had been the entire time. Seconds pass and concern started to bubble under Beelzebub’s skin. Usually with discorporation, it was instant. You’d be here with a new body and ready to live a new life. Seconds turned to minutes as your body started to cool and Beelzebub’s concern grows to anxiety as they move up towards your body. You should be back by now. The rattling that was once concerning would have been a relief to hear right now. They call your name, beg you to wake up because this isn’t funny anymore as they climb onto the bed, careful of all the wires and tubes so they can try to convince you to just wake up. Even if it was just to scream at you some more, they didn’t mind, they just wanted you to stop pretending and to get out of bed.

That’s how Aziraphale and Crowley found the Prince of Hell. Sitting over your rapidly hardening body as rigor mortis kicked in, confused as to why your eyes were open, yet glassy. They were still begging you to wake up, this isn’t funny anymore, I know you’re mad at me but please just wake up. Neither had heard Beelzebub sound so desperate and confused before, and it had been clear that they had been doing this for hours. Aziraphale is the one who puts two and two together and walks up to the demon.

Crowley goes to get the nurse. You wouldn’t want to be lying there in your own filth, you deserved a more dignified death than that as Aziraphale quickly but quietly got Beelzebub off of your body and off the bed so the nurse could do their jobs in peace. B still looked at your corpse confused, now pale as the blood settles on the lower half of your body. You’d never looked so sick in your life, but this isn’t right. You should be awake by now.

That’s when Aziraphale breaks it to him. Humans, when they die, they aren’t like demons or angels. When they die, they are gone for good. Its like a sleep, apparently, that lasts forever unless you were in good favour with God. And being with a demon most definitely removed your changes of that.

The news takes a second to sink into Beelzebub’s brain before everything starts making sense. Why you wanted them to spend more time with you, the frustration of when they refused to break their schedule for you, and when they just didn’t seem to understand that this was serious and terrifying for you. Discorporation is scary for anyone who hadn’t experienced it. But you’d be back. Surely.

It’s not until the nurses arrive to clean your body that Beelzebub moves. The nurse goes to start with your face and the Prince of Hell just screams as emotions they didn’t even know they had crashed over them. They screamed at them to not touch you, that you weren’t dead and you’ll be ok, just wake up, please wake up. They are sorry, just please, for the love of all things unholy, open your fucking eyes. Nurses, doctors and security had to rush in to pull the Prince from your body as the nurses fought back to make sure you weren’t injured in the fight. Beelzebub claws at everyone who touches them, almost attempting to swim past everyone to get to you as they are thrown out and into the family room with a nurse to try and console them. You’re in a better place now, God will take care of you, you are at peace. Beelzebub just rocks and cries because of all the things they will miss that they didn’t even realise that they would miss. Seeing you wake up and being groggy before lighting up when you see them, holding your hand, kissing you, making a plate for them even though you both know full well that you’ll end up snatching most of it from their plate. Never have you listen to them rant and offer advice that only a human could provide or listen to you rant after a particularly hard day. Never see your face whenever you see something that excites you, never hear your laugh, never be held in your arms or hold you in theirs ever again? Never be able to tell you that they love you.

It felt like all the oxygen had left Beelzebub’s body and no matter what they did, they couldn’t get enough in their lungs. They never told you that they loved you, they always assumed they had time for that. Now they’d never get that chance again. Darkness seems to crowd in from the corner of their eyes as a truly desperate and primal wail finally makes its way out of B’s mouth and fills the halls of the ward before they promptly pass out.

~~~~~

Beelzebub wakes up with a gasp. Not in the hospital, the chemical smell no longer burning their nose. They are back home, in your bed. The demon rubs their face with a relieved smile before they turn to make sure you were alright.

No.

You’re not there.

The sheets are cool and there is no evidence of you sleeping there. Beelzebub can feel the oxygen slowly being sucked out of their body again when the panic sets in again. Are you dead? What’s happened?

A flush followed by three loud crashes and a string of swears in the dark lets them know what’s going on and they rush from the bed straight into the kitchen to see you, still pale and looking permanently tired, but alive standing in front of them, checking over your foot. B can’t help it. They crash right into your arms and hold you as close as physically possible, breathing in your scent deeply to centre themselves. It’s ok. You’re alive.

“Whoa, hey there.” B could hear the smile in your voice. “You ok?” Beelzebub doesn’t trust their voice, so they just nod. “B? Are you crying?” The smile turns to concern as the Prince pulls you in closer. You start to rub their back as you sway in the kitchen. “The dream again?”

“Yes.” Their voice croaks, they sound broken. Exhausted. You sigh as you pull back and make sure that you can make eye contact with your partner. The unshed tears that they are clearly fighting back break your heart as you swipe your thumb underneath their eyes as you cup their face in a silent attempt to calm them.

“It’s ok dearest. I’m ok. You’re ok. Do you remember what happened?” It takes a second for Beelzebub to nod as the memories come flooding back.

You did have an argument and you did have a seizure before it concluded. Beelzebub did think that you would just return in a new body ready to go. But Beelzebub got you to the hospital quicker. You came out of the seizure quicker. You ended up in a coma and in the hospital for a week. B didn’t leave the hospital for that entire time and they did read to you and play music and talk. That’s when Aziraphale told Beelzebub what happens to humans after death. That’s when the penny dropped and, for the first time in a week, Beelzebub stepped outside.

Beelzebub got on their knees and begged for God to spare you, just for a while longer. A miraculous healing, that’s all you needed. No matter how much Beelzebub tried, no miracle of theirs could save you and God did not help in anyway. When Beelzebub came back, a day later, your prognosis did not look good. They took you off air support. They suspected you had 48 hours at most. That dreaded rattle could be heard before B could even walk in the room.

Aziraphale suggested that, perhaps, between the three of them they could save you. Somehow, it worked. The cancer was gone, and you woke up to a crying and relieved Beelzebub six hours later, to the amazement to all the staff involved. B just climbed onto the bed and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you, apologising between each kiss and saying that they loved you, so, so much whenever you both pulled away for long enough for them to get the words out. You were still incredibly sick, even a year on there have been complications. It took a while for you to be able to walk without assistance, for your weight to return and for you to be able to concentrate for a full hour – or even just be conscious for three hours – and not need a nap. You came home six months after you first were admitted into the hospital. Beelzebub made a point, from then on, to be home as often as possible. Hellish business could be conducted anywhere, so B worked from home in the same office you now do. Beelzebub, although still not in tune with their emotions, had become more affectionate and initiated the affection more often than before. The Prince even began to learn the value of sleep and loved to spend the night with you holding each other.

The nightmares came about a month after you came home. You needed to spend the night at the hospital after you found out you needed some exploratory surgery done. Beelzebub woke up with a fright, convinced you were dead until they went to go pick you up the next morning. If you disappeared from the bed for too long, the nightmares would start up again. A side effect of the cancer has left you forgetful, and some nights when you wake up and just need to pee or eat or drink something, you forget that being away caused Beelzebub distress like this. But you work on it.

Another side effect, as you both found out one day that Beelzebub is sure nearly brought them to discorporate, is that you can’t die. Turns out, the angel and the demons did their job a little too well. Although you have gotten better and parts of you have changed, you haven’t aged a day. When you didn’t see where you were walking and got hit by a car, Beelzebub felt their world end again for a brief second before you stood up, amazingly unharmed, and began to apologise to the driver for not watching where you were going. The relief hit Beelzebub hard, before realising that you were going to be with them forever. The joy that wracked their system is something that Beelzebub has not felt since but enjoyed every moment of it.

Right now, however, Beelzebub did not feel joy. Some relief, yes, but mostly residue panic from the constant nightmare that they had been having. Somehow, you managed to coax them onto the bed and pulled them in tight against you so they could have some comfort.

“Feel better?” B makes an uncommitted noise that you take to mean as ‘yes’. “Good. I’m sorry I forgot again. I’ll try to remember to read the sticky notes next time.” You can feel their scoff against your chest as you roll your eyes. “I love you though. I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Please don’t.” Their voice still sounds broken but comforted in the knowledge that you were okay.

“I won’t, precious.” You smile as they make eye contact with you and a rare smile graces their face.

“I’m sorry I was a bad partner.” You roll your eyes.

“B, you weren’t a bad partner, you just didn’t understand, and I didn’t think to explain it at the time. It’s okay. We’ve worked past it.” The noise B makes this time makes you think they don’t believe you, so you jostle them slightly so you can both lay down together, you stroking their back as they make small buzzing noises of content, both of you slowly beginning to drift away.

“Love you.” You smile as B’s quiet voice fills your ears right before they fall asleep.

“Love you too.” B’s hum lets you know they heard it just as you close your eyes and let your sleep take you away.

You were alone when you had the tests, got the results, and the prognosis. You felt alone as you battled for a few months more to live with your love. You drifted alone in a dream state for a week before two demons and an angel brought you back, better than before. After a journey of feeling so alone, it was moments like these that made you feel so loved because you knew Beelzebub loved you, loves you and will forever love you, as you will forever love them. Even as you drift in your sea of unconsciousness, there is one thing that you feel now that you hadn’t felt for a long time after your diagnosis.

Alive.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #beelzebub #ama writes #reader insert #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub/reader #beelzebub x reader fanfiction #beelzebub/reader fanfiction #beelzebub uses them they pronouns #fanfiction #fanfic #good omens fanfic #go #go fanfiction #go fanfic

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lastbluetardis · 5 years

Text

Family of Six (10/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Teen, 6700 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 2.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Next update: October 22nd

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

“My tummy hurts,” Sianin whined over breakfast one morning in mid-May. She pushed her fried egg around her plate with her fork, pulverizing it with the tines and resulting in a goopy yellow mess.

“Where does your tummy hurt?” James asked, reaching over to dip his toast into the broken yolk.

She circled her hand vaguely in front of her stomach. Very helpful, he thought with a sigh.

“Do you feel like you might throw up?” James asked. She shook her head. “Do you need to poo?”

Again, she shook her head. He pressed the backs of his fingers to her forehead. She wasn’t warm, but her lack of appetite indicated she wasn’t faking it.

“Do you think you can make it through school?” he asked, standing to take her plate.

“I guess,” Sianin said.

“If you’re really feeling poorly, go to the infirmary and we’ll pick you up.”

“Who’s feeling poorly?” Rose stepped into the kitchen, a twin in each crook of her arms. James stepped forward to take one from his wife, allowing Rose a free hand.

“My tummy hurts,” Sianin said.

“She doesn’t feel warm,” James said, absently bouncing the baby he was holding. “But she didn’t eat much of her breakfast.”

After a brief examination, Rose agreed with James’s conclusion for Sianin to attempt the school day. She and James hovered near their phones though, waiting for a call from the school telling them to come get Sianin. But no such call came. However, when James went to pick the kids up from school, it was clear that Sianin still wasn’t feeling well.

He found his daughters on a bench, Sianin half-bent over and hugging her middle while Ainsley rubbed her back.

“Tummy still hurting?” he asked, crouching in front of her. She nodded. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Let’s go home; I’ll give you something to help your tummy.”

He watched Sianin carefully as she walked to the car; her steps were slow and shuffling, and there was a slight hunch to her shoulders, as though she couldn’t bring herself to stand up straight.

When he helped her into her car seat, she grabbed his hands and said, “Daddy, don’t strap me in too tight.”

“All right,” he said. He kept the buckles as loose as was safe. He kissed her forehead, testing her temperature and giving her comfort at the same time. Her skin felt a little warm. “Love you, Sian.”

Sianin was quiet for the drive home, not contributing to the conversation and only giving a brief account of her day. Her silence unnerved him, and his heart broke for his daughter.

When he got home, Rose ambushed Sianin at the front door, asking about how she was feeling and how her stomach was all day. She answered her mother’s questions succinctly, then went right over to the couch and laid down.

Ainsley followed her sister and crouched by her head, talking softly. A moment later, Ainsley patted Sianin’s cheek then went down the hall.

“I’m going to get paracetamol,” James announced to no one in particular.

Rose followed him to their room. “What do you think it is?”

“Not sure,” he admitted, hating the answer. He couldn’t help Sianin if he didn’t know what was ailing her. “I think she’s starting a slight fever though. Hopefully that will help burn off whatever bug she’s got.”

“Could it be constipation?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know.” He found the liquid paracetamol and went back to Sianin. She was standing beside the couch with her jeans off. Ainsley was handing her a pair of stretchy cotton trousers to slip on instead.

“I’ve got medicine for you, darling,” James said, shaking the bottle. “Take a bit of this, then you can lie down again.”

Sianin dutifully swallowed the dose James gave her, flushing it down with a glass of water Rose handed to her.

“Are you hungry?” Rose asked, brushing Sianin’s hair out of her eyes.

“No.”

“Did you eat any lunch?”

“A little.”

“Do you think you can try a bit of soup if Mummy makes some?”

Sianin shrugged.

“Well, it will take a little bit to make it,” Rose said. “We’ll see how you feel when it’s ready. Just rest, love.”

“Want Daddy to sit with you?” James asked. When she nodded, he slid onto the couch beside her. Instead of laying down, she curled up against him with her head on his chest and her knees pulled up. He absently stroked her hair, hating that she was sick. “Are you sure you don’t need a poo?”

“No, that hurts.”

“What do you mean, ‘that hurts’?” he asked, alarmed.

“When I try to push… it makes my tummy hurt worse.”

“Have you gone poo today?” he asked.

“A little bit,” she answered. “I don’t wanna talk anymore. I wanna sleep.”

“Okay, darling. You can sleep.”

The evening passed quietly, with Sianin dozing against James’s chest for most of it. She swallowed down a few bites of broth when it was done, but she eventually pushed it away, saying she didn’t want any more.

Her fever gradually built, and by the time James and Rose put her to bed, her face was burning up. They wanted to keep Sianin in bed with them, but she resolutely refused—the irony of her not wanting to share their bed after months of co-sleeping was not lost on them.

“I don’t wanna hear the babies all night,” Sianin said.

They couldn’t exactly argue with that. So they tucked her into her bed after giving her another dose of medicine, both to help her fever and to help her sleep.

“Please come to me and Mummy tonight if you need to. If you throw up or start feeling worse. Promise me, Sian.”

“I promise,” she mumbled, tugging her blankets up to her neck.

James didn’t sleep well that night. He awoke at the smallest of sounds, sure it was Sianin coming to get him and Rose. And any sleep he did manage to find was interrupted by dreams that he was awake and fretting over Sianin.

The twins woke up twice during the night, and after tending to their babies, James and Rose peeked into Sianin’s room to check on her. She was asleep each time they looked, but she was always in a different position.

“I think we’ll need to take her to the doctor,” Rose said when they curled up in bed together at nearly four in the morning. “She’s getting worse.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“I don’t know what it could possibly be,” Rose said, frustration straining her voice. “It’s not food-borne, ‘cos none of the rest of us are ill. And we haven’t gotten a notice that a stomach bug is going ‘round the school.”

“Unless she’s the start of it.” James pressed a kiss to the top of Rose’s head. “We’ll take her to hospital tomorrow morning, first thing.”

Rose remained in James’s arms for the rest of the night, and judging by her fidgeting and occasional sigh, she wasn’t sleeping either.

It was a relief when they heard Ainsley get into the shower a few hours later. At least they didn’t need to pretend to be sleeping any longer.

They went immediately to Sianin’s room, but she was dead asleep. Deciding to let her rest for as long as possible, they closed her bedroom door and got ready for the morning.

“Aren’t you going to get Sianin up?” Ainsley asked as she slurped down her yogurt and fruit.

“We’re keeping her home today,” James said.

Ainsley frowned. “She still doesn’t feel well? Are you taking her to the doctor?”

James nodded, then moved down the hall to wake Sianin. He and Rose had agreed he would take Sianin along when he dropped Ainsley off for school, then he would go with Sianin to the hospital.

Sianin was curled onto her side with her blankets twisted around her hips and her stuffed dragon hugged in a death grip. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her hair was a little damp with sweat. His heart squeezed.

“Rise and shine, darling,” he murmured, crouching beside her bed. He pressed the backs of his fingers to her forehead. She was burning up, worse than she was the night before. “Sianin, sweetheart.”

Sianin moaned and turned her head out of his touch. Her eyes fluttered open, then her entire face crumpled as she let out a sob.

“My belly hurts. It really, really hurts now!”

James’s heart began to race at his child’s distress. “Show me where. Let Daddy see.”

He brushed her hair away from her clammy forehead as she rolled to her back. She hovered her fingertips over top her belly button.

James pressed down where she indicated, and when he palpated the right side of her lower abdomen, she cried out and slapped his hand away.

“That hurts! Don’t touch!”

Dread unfurled through his gut as a niggling suspicion clawed at his mind.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “The doctor’s gonna make you feel better. Can you get up for Daddy?”

Sianin sat up, then her face went white and sweat popped across her forehead before she vomited all over the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, crying.

“It was an accident,” he said rubbing her back gently as she retched again. “Let’s go wee, then we’re gonna go to the doctor. Can you stand?”

Sianin slowly eased onto her feet. She looked wobbly, so James went with her to the loo. When she was finished, he guided her back to her bedroom.

“I’m gonna get Mummy. You wait here. I’ll be right back.”

James smoothed a hand down her hair and kissed the top of her head. Then he turned down the hall and to the kitchen. Rose was sitting at the table with Ainsley.

“Rose,” he said, interrupting whatever Ainsley was talking about. “Can I borrow you for a sec?”

Rose must’ve read the urgency in his face, because she jumped to her feet. James went to the sink and grabbed a roll of paper towels, then bent to the cupboard beneath and grabbed carpet cleaner.

“Did Sianin throw up?” Ainsley asked.

“‘Fraid so,” he answered. “Finish up your breakfast, then Mummy will take you to school.”

Rose frowned at him, but followed him down the hall.

“Something’s very wrong with Sianin,” he said once they were out of earshot of Ainsley. “She threw up, and her belly hurts to touch. God, I think it might be her appendix. That’s on the right side of the stomach, right?”

As they approached Sianin’s bedroom, they heard muffled sobbing coming from the bathroom instead. Their six-year-old was kneeling a few paces in front of the toilet beside a small puddle of vomit. Tissues and toilet paper were tossed on top of the mess, as though Sianin had attempted to clean it up.

“I didn’t make it,” she hiccupped, rubbing at her streaming nose.

“It’s all right, baby,” Rose cooed, dropping beside their daughter. “Daddy’s gonna get you some fresh clothes, then he’s gonna go with you to see a doctor so your tummy will feel better.”

“It hurts, Mummy!” Sianin wailed, tears and snot streaked on her face. “I don’t feel good!”

“I know,” Rose murmured, pulling Sianin into her arms. She met James’s eyes, then cocked her head to the door.

He turned on his heel and went to Sianin’s room. He quickly cleaned up the worst of the mess Sianin had made, hoping Rose wouldn’t mind cleaning more thoroughly later. He then went to her dresser and grabbed soft leggings, a loose shirt, socks, and comfy slip-on shoes.

When he returned, Sianin was sitting on the lip of the tub in only her pants as Rose gently touched her stomach. She was running her fingers along Sianin’s skin and inspecting it closely, as though she could physically peer inside of their daughter and find what was hurting her.

“Not there!” Sianin cried, catching Rose’s hand as it meandered to her lower abdomen. “Please, Mummy, don’t touch it.”

“I got clean clothes, darling,” he interrupted. “Let’s get you dressed and we’ll go.”

“I’ll help her,” Rose said. “You get dressed.”

He realized he was in his sleep clothes of boxers and a t-shirt. He turned away from his family and went to his and Rose’s room. He grabbed clean clothes from his closet, not even caring what they were. He dressed in record time and slipped on his shoes before going back to Rose and Sianin.

“Let’s go, darling,” he said, hefting her into his arms.

“Wait. Can I bring Elliot?”

“Of course,” James said.

“I’ll grab him,” Rose said.

As James moved to the front of the house, Ainsley appeared.

“Is Sianin okay?” she asked, her brow pinching when she saw her sister curled up in their father’s arms.

“Her tummy is just really hurting,” James assured her. “So I’m gonna take her to the doctor and get it all fixed.”

“I threw up,” Sianin croaked, turning her head to look at her sister.

Ainsley reached up and rubbed her hand up and down Sianin’s arm. A moment later, Rose breezed down the hall with Sianin’s stuffed dragon in her hands.

“Here we go,” Rose said, handing it to her daughter. “Feel better, my love.” She brushed a kiss to Sianin’s forehead. Then she kissed James’s cheek. When she rocked back onto her heels, her face was solemn. “Let me know when you know anything.”

“I will,” he said, bending down to peck a kiss to her lips.

Then he turned and went to the car. He buckled Sianin in as carefully as he could, then he drove them to the hospital.

He could have praised all of the gods that ever existed in the entirety of human history that there was hardly anybody waiting to be seen. He got his daughter checked in, then he sat with her in his lap in a hard-backed wooden chair.

As they waited, James pulled out his phone and they played Sianin’s favorite game: dots and boxes. Thankfully there were no more vomiting episodes, but it was clear his daughter felt miserable. Her entire body felt hot and soon he was sweating in the jumper he’d donned despite it being a warm spring day. Nevertheless, he kept his arms around his little girl, holding her close.

“Y’know, your mum and I used to play this when we were kids,” he said, trying to keep her distracted. “It was one of our favorites. But we didn’t have fancy schmancy phone apps. We had to continuously draw and wash the game board off our arms.”

That made Sianin smile a little. “Me, Elena, and Juliette do that with Pictionary. Daddy?”

“Yes darling?”

“My hair is annoying me.”

Indeed, her fringe kept falling into her eyes.

“Want me to braid it back?”

She nodded, and gingerly spun on his lap until her back was facing him. He fluffed her hair out away from her sweaty face and neck, then gathered tendrils of the fine strands between his fingers to weave into a simple French braid.

“You have such beautiful hair,” he murmured to her as he fastened the end of the braid with a hairband he found in his pocket.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, running her fingers overtop the braid to feel the ripples and bumps. “You should grow your hair out so I can braid it.”

“Grow my hair out?” he repeated incredulously. “I don’t think I’d look good with long hair, eh? But you can braid my fringe if you’d like.”

Sianin turned in his lap until her knees straddled his thighs. With her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth, she mussed his hair to get it to fall forward over his forehead. He ducked his head so she could reach more easily, then sat motionlessly while Sianin played with his fringe.

When four little braids were standing out of the top of his head, Sianin’s name was finally called. James stood with Sianin on his hip and walked her towards the nurse that had summoned them.

The nurse efficiently gathered Sianin’s height, weight, and temperature—she was running a fever of nearly 39C—and took detailed notes of her symptoms. Sianin remained folded up in James’s lap for as much of the process as she could.

When it came time for the physical examination, James could do nothing but watch as Sianin cried on the exam table while the physician poked and prodded her stomach.

“You’re doing great, Sian,” he encouraged, holding her hand. “Squeeze as hard as you need to. The doctor’s nearly finished. You’re doing so well.”

Next came a blood draw. James helped hold his daughter still as the nurse pricked her arm, and he forced Sianin to keep her eyes on him instead of the needle and vial of blood they were taking.

While the nurse left with Sianin’s blood sample, the doctor came back with an ultrasound machine.

“The doctor’s gonna use this to see inside your tummy,” James explained. “Do you remember the pictures of the twins that Mummy and I showed you while they were in Mummy’s belly? A machine just like this is what took those pictures.”

“It’s completely painless,” the doctor chimed in. “I’m gonna squirt a little bit of jelly onto your belly, then I’ll scan you with my magic wand.”

Sianin eventually reclined on the exam table and let the doctor scan her abdomen with the probe. The doctor was as gentle as possible throughout the scan, but James saw the discomfort on his child’s face.

Even though James already suspected the diagnosis, it didn’t make it any easier to hear it confirmed from the doctor’s lips.

“She has appendicitis. This means she has an infection that has inflamed her appendix.” The doctor rotated the ultrasound monitor towards James. She traced her finger across the screen as she talked about Sianin’s prognosis: her appendix was blocked and swollen and if they didn’t remove it soon, it could burst and cause infection to her entire abdominal cavity.

“When can she get in for surgery?” James asked faintly. “How serious is this?”

“I want to get her rehydrated and started on a course of antibiotics,” the doctor said, “but I would like to get her in for surgery today, if possible. The sooner the better with this kind of thing.”

“Daddy?”

James looked down at Sianin, who was pale-faced and close to tears. He forced his face to relax, then he smiled at her. He rested his hand atop one of hers and said, “Your pesky little appendix has a small injury. So the doctors are going to go inside of you to fix it right up. That will make you feel loads better.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s nothing to be scared about, Sian. You’re going to be all right.”

Sianin didn’t look particularly convinced, but she didn’t make too much of a fuss when she was transferred to a different room and hooked up to an IV line to replenish her fluids.

“We’ve got her on antibiotics and pain medicine,” the nurse murmured to James. “And we’ve also given her a small dose of an anti-anxiety medication. It should help her to relax. We will let you know as soon as we can get a surgeon scheduled.”

“Thanks,” James said, scrubbing his palms across his face. When he pulled his hands away, he saw writing on his wrist.

How is she?

Has she seen a doctor yet?

Hello?

Are you still waiting?

James, what’s going on?

For god’s sake, answer your bloody phone or write me back!

“Bugger,” he mumbled.

When the nurse left the room, James pulled a pen from the nearby desk. He tugged his phone out of his pocket before sitting by Sianin’s bedside. There were several texts from Rose waiting for him, demanding an update. He set the phone on his thigh, electing to use their soulmark.

“She’s got appendicitis. Going to need surgery,” James wrote. “They’re giving her fluids to rehydrate her. Not sure when the surgery is yet. Possibly later today.”

Barely fifteen seconds later, his phone lit up with Rose’s name and a photograph of the two of them, but he ignored it. Instead, he wrote, “I will give you a call, I promise. But please make sure you’re calm. Sianin’s nervous enough as it is and I’m here in the room with her.”

The phone call ended. A moment later, Rose wrote back, You arse. Let me talk to my daughter.

“I will. But please, love—”

I am bloody calm, so answer my goddamn call!

He exhaled slowly, and the next time his phone lit up, he answered it.

“Don’t you ever ignore me again,” Rose growled the second he accepted the call. “Not when it’s about one of our kids. I’ve been worried sick, James!”

“Hello to you, too,” he said cheerfully.

“Is that Mummy?” Sianin whispered, shaking his arm to get his attention.

“Yep, wanna talk to her?” he asked, already putting his phone on speaker.

“Hi Mummy!”

“Hi baby,” Rose replied softly, all traces of her agitation with James gone. “Daddy tells me your appendix is what’s making your tummy hurt.”

“Yeah. It’s infected,” Sianin said, sighing gravely. “The doctor said I hafta have surgery to get it taken out.”

“Wow. How are you feeling?”

“My tummy hurts still,” she answered. “But not as much. It reeeeeally hurt when the doctor was pushing on it. I didn’t like that. But Daddy told me to squeeze his hand really really hard.”

“Nearly bruised my knuckles,” James interjected playfully just to hear Sianin giggle.

“Good,” Rose muttered, and he frowned at his phone.

“The doctor put a needle in my arm,” Sianin said, not having heard her mother’s jab at her father. “It feels weird and hurts when I touch it.”

“Don’t touch it,” Rose and James said at the same time.

“Do you want Mummy to come wait with you before your surgery?” Rose asked.

“Yeah, I’m so bored,” Sianin moaned. “They have TV here but no good channels.”

“I’ll bring along a game,” Rose promised.

“Can you also bring an overnight bag?” James asked. “Change of clothes for me and Sianin. Shampoo and things.”

“Er…?”

“They said she’ll probably be staying the night,” James said. “I’d rather not wear these manky old clothes tomorrow, too. Obviously I’m staying with her.”

“Obviously?” Rose repeated, her voice sharp.

James clenched his jaw.

“Me and Daddy are gonna have a sleepover in the hospital!”

“Sounds like fun,” Rose said. “Daddy and I need to have a private chat. I’ll talk to you later, sweetheart.”

“Okay Mummy. Don’t forget to bring a game,” Sianin said.

“I’ll remember. Love you.” Rose made a kissing noise through the phone, and Sianin echoed it.

James groaned internally as he switched the phone off of speaker mode. He pressed it into his chest and said, “I’m going to be right outside the door, Sian. Okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sianin nodded, and he exited the room. He put his phone to his ear and said, “Right, where were we?”

“You were being a twat,” Rose snapped.

“Rose, come on. Be reasonable…”

“Why is it automatically assumed that you will stay with Sianin?” Rose asked.

“Well for starters, I’m already here,” James said.

“That’s bullshit,” Rose spat. “I can be at the hospital in twenty minutes.”

“Someone needs to stay with our other three children tonight,” James answered.

“You could come home after Sianin’s surgery,” Rose said.

James bit back a growl. God, she’s stubborn. “You’ve got to be there to nurse the twins, Rose.”

“Excuse me, the last I looked, you were more than capable of feeding our babies.”

“All right, fine! Come stay with Sianin. Pump in the hospital room every couple of hours. Be my guest. Oh, but good luck finding a place to keep the milk cold, unless you want to let it go to waste. And I guess I’ll be switching the twins over to formula when I’ve gone through the small supply of milk in our fridge!”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and James exhaled raggedly, his exasperation gone. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” she said, her voice quiet. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being unreasonable.”

“You’re worried about Sianin,” he said gently. “That’s understandable. But Rose…” He scrubbed his hand along the nape of his neck. “You’ve made me feel like you don’t trust me to be here with Sianin.”

“No, James, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that. Of course I trust you with her. Of course I do. I just… I want to be there with her, too. My baby.”

“I know.”

“But you’re right,” she said. “It makes more sense for you to stay with her.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Come wait with us before the surgery. We’re just sitting in her room watching TV. Sian would love the company, and you promised her a game.”

“I’ll bring an overnight bag for you,” Rose said. “I’m going to drop the twins off with your dad, then I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed a finger into his tired eyes, then murmured, “I’m very sorry I didn’t give you updates like I said I would.”

Rose was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that James thought their connection cut out, when she finally said, “Two hours of silence from you, James. Two hours. Do you know how scared I was?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I was focusing on Sianin and, well…”

“Forgot about me?” Rose teased weakly.

“Maybe a little bit,” he admitted sheepishly. “Really, though. I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“I want to be furious with you,” she said, letting out a noise that he couldn’t distinguish between a laugh and a sob. “God, I want to be so furious with you. But how can I be when I know you were singly focused on our daughter?”

James didn’t know what to say, so he just said, “I’m sorry. I love you very much, Rose.”

“Love you, too,” she replied. “Right, I’m gonna get ready to go.”

“I’ll let Sianin know you’re…” James trailed off when he saw the doctor walking towards him. “Rose, I gotta go. Doctor’s here. I’ll call you back when I get a free moment. Love you. Bye.”

He disconnected the call and stuffed his phone into his pocket. “Has she been scheduled for surgery?”

“Yes, in a half hour,” the doctor said. “There was a sudden last-minute opening.”

“A half hour?” James repeated dumbly. “Is she ready for surgery that soon? Is the surgeon ready?”

“Has Sianin eaten this morning?” When James shook his head, the doctor said, “Then she’s fine. Shall we?”

James opened the door, guiding the doctor into Sianin’s room. She beamed at her father, but the expression slipped when she saw the doctor.

“Hiya, darling,” James said, walking up to sit on the edge of her bed. Sianin shuffled closer to him. “Looks like the doctors are ready to take care of that appendix for you.”

“In a few minutes, you and your dad are going to be moved to a new room, where we’ll give you something to help you fall asleep,” the doctor said gently, standing at the foot of Sianin’s bed. “And as soon as you’re asleep, we’re going to take you back and get that nasty little appendix out.”

“What if I wake up?” Sianin asked, clinging to James’s hand.

“The doctors are very good at their job,” James told her, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. “You won’t wake up during the surgery. You’ll be sleeping deeper than you’ve ever slept before.”

“Promise?” she asked solemnly.

“Cross my heart,” he said, making an ‘X’ over his chest, then hers.

“When we’ve finished getting your appendix out, we’re going to take you to a new room where your dad can join you again.”

“No, Daddy, I want you to stay,” Sianin pleaded, turning her big brown eyes on him. They were welling with tears, and his heart fractured. “The whole time. Please? Please can’t you stay with me?”

“I’m gonna be with you whilst they put you to sleep, and I promise—I promise—I’ll be there when you wake up,” he whispered, swiping his thumb across her fallen tears. “You’ll be so deeply asleep, you won’t even miss me.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Sianin hiccupped.

“I know, darling.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked Sianin into his side. “I know.”

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” the doctor said, before she left the room.

“You’re being very brave, Sianin,” James said as he continued to hold his trembling child.

“I don’t feel brave,” she said, burying her face into his chest.

“Well, you are. Being brave isn’t not being scared. It’s okay to be scared. But you’re not letting the fear win out,” he said, leaning down to plant kisses across the top of her head.

They sat in relative silence for a while before the doctor came back, along with a team of nurses. James kissed the crown of Sianin’s head and slid off her bed.

“Daddy!” she cried, reaching for him. “No, you promised!”

“I’m right here,” he said soothingly. “But the doctors need to wheel you into a new room, and they don’t want to be pushing my weight around. I’m gonna walk.”

“You’re coming with me, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “No one on this planet could stop me.”

Sianin relaxed back into the mattress, and James followed the nurses as they pushed Sianin down a long corridor and into a sterile-smelling white room. The nurses left, and in walked a second physician.

“Hello, Sianin. I’m the anesthesiologist,” he announced.

“He’s the man who is gonna give you something to help you fall asleep,” James explained to his daughter.

“Hi,” she said meekly.

“We’ve got this cool mask for you to put on,” the doctor said, wheeling over a cart and showing her the gas mask.

Sianin’s glanced at it, then at James. He smiled reassuringly and stepped closer to her.

“When you put this on, a magic gas is gonna come out of it,” he said. “You’ll be asleep in no time.”

“You’ll stay ‘til I’m sleeping?” she verified to her father.

James nodded.

“And be here when I wake up?”

He nodded again. “Mummy will be here by then, too.”

“With a game?”

“With a game,” he said, even though he knew Sianin wouldn’t be up for a game after coming out of surgery.

Sianin looked up at the doctor.

“Ready?” he asked.

When she nodded, the doctor slipped the mask over Sianin’s nose and mouth. James smiled at her reassuringly when he saw panic rising in her eyes.

“Can you tell me about your friend there?” the anesthesiologist said, gesturing to her stuffed dragon.

Sianin clenched her fist around its neck and said, “He’s a dragon. His name’s Elliot. My gran got him for me when she and I went to…”

Her voice suddenly died off and her eyes rolled back slightly before her eyelids slipped shut.

James exhaled raggedly, and he pressed a kiss to Sianin’s forehead.

“We will get you the moment she’s out of surgery,” the doctor promised, then with that, they handed Elliot to him and wheeled his baby out of the room.

“If you come with me, I’ll show you where you can wait.”

He turned mechanically towards the voice, and saw a nurse standing at the doorway. He followed her to a room with a bunch of chairs, where he was then given a pager. He took the pager and walked outside into the warm spring day to call Rose.

He ran his fingers through his hair and hissed when they snagged in the row of short braids Sianin had made at his fringe. They’d loosened over the course of the morning, and were now a row of snarled tangles. He teased them free as the phone rang at his ear.

“Hey, everything okay?” she asked. “It’s been a while. I just dropped the twins off and am on my way to the hospital. How is she?”

“They’ve taken her back for surgery,” he said, absently running his thumb across Elliot’s sequined wings.

“They’ve what? Already? But… but I thought they didn’t have a time for her yet.”

“Something opened up,” he answered. “They just took her back. Our baby… our baby’s getting surgery.”

Rose was quiet for a few long seconds. “She’ll be fine, James. It’s a routine procedure.”

“She’s having one of her internal organs taken out!”

“At least it’s not an important one,” Rose joked weakly. James managed a small snort. “I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can. I’ve got a bag packed for you.”

“Thanks. A game too? Sianin made me double check. I don’t think she’ll be well enough to play anything, but I promised her I’d ask you.”

“A game too. I love you. I’ll be there soon.”

“Love you.” He disconnected the call, then strolled back into the hospital to wait.

Nearly a half hour after Sianin was taken into surgery, he heard his name being called out. Rose was walking straight towards him. He stood on stiff legs and opened his arms for her. They held each other tightly for a long minute, then they sat down on the uncomfortable chairs to wait.

“How long did they say it’d be?” Rose asked, chewing her thumb cuticle.

“Hour and a half, thereabouts,” James replied, pulling her hand away from her mouth and twining their fingers together instead.

“And how long’s it been?”

“Twenty-eight minutes.”

Rose sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, keeping silent vigil.

Another half hour passed. Then an hour. An hour and fifteen minutes…

Finally, just as James was about to go to reception and ask for any available updates on their daughter, his pager blinked. He and Rose strode to the front desk, where a doctor was waiting for them.

“We’ve successfully removed Sianin’s appendix,” she announced with a comforting smile. “There were no other signs of trauma or infection. All in all, it was a very routine procedure.”

“Will this have any effects on the rest of her life?” James asked the doctor. “Like when someone has their gallbladder removed they can’t really eat greasy foods and such.”

“She didn’t get her gallbladder out, James,” Rose said tightly.

“I was just drawing a comparison,” he hissed back. “Excuse me for wanting information about my daughter’s health.”

“What, and I don’t?”

“There shouldn’t be any lasting effects,” the doctor interrupted, glancing between them warily. “Really, the appendix is one of the most vestigial organs in the body. She should make a full recovery and never once miss her appendix. I’ll give you some information packets to read. I can take you to her now; she’s in a recovery room and sleeping off the rest of the anesthesia.”

“Yes please,” they said in unison.

James threaded his fingers through Rose’s as they followed the surgeon through the long, endless corridors of the hospital. They eventually reached a room that had Sianin’s name scribbled on a whiteboard on the door.

It was eerie to see Sianin asleep in a hospital bed. It made her look too small. She was pale, and her head looked like it was propped at an awkward angle. Rose breezed past him to sit at Sianin’s head, where she gently adjusted the pillows.

James came up and stuck their daughter’s stuffed dragon at her side. He pulled up a chair next to Rose, and he reached for Sianin’s hand, which was lying limply on the bed.

“Her hair looks nice,” Rose murmured. “I assume that was you?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t mean to make you feel silly about your questions. I’m glad you asked.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly. “We’ve both been out of sorts with each other today.”

“We should’ve been comforting each other today, not bickering.” Rose scooted her chair closer to his. She rested her free hand on his thigh and her cheek on his shoulder.

“This is a first for us. First time our child has needed any type of surgery, let alone emergency surgery. We’re stressed,” he said, kissing her temple.

“I know. But I’m still sorry.”

They both descended into silence as they waited for their baby to wake up.

It took Sianin about twenty minutes to wake up from the anesthesia, and when she did, she wasn’t entirely cognizant. She woke up for a minute, then drifted back to sleep for another five. This pattern went on for a while, frightening James and Rose even though they were assured by the nurses that this was a common reaction to anesthesia.

Finally, she opened her eyes and remained conscious for more than a few minutes.

“Mummy?” Sianin slurred, blinking slowly. She moved to rub at her eyes, but paused when she got a look at the back of her hand, where a needle was stuck. “There’s something in my hand.”

“It’s just there to give you medicine,” Rose soothed. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“Tired,” she said.

“Does your tummy hurt?” Rose asked.

Sianin shook her head, then furrowed her brows. “I can’t feel my tummy.” She tugged her blankets down and her hospital gown up to look at her stomach, as though to verify she still, in fact, had one. She poked it for good measure.

“The doctors gave you some medicine to numb you,” James explained. “Let us know if it starts to hurt again.”

Sianin nodded, her eyes fixed on the gauze covering the incision. She then looked at her mother with a sleepy smile on her face. “I got surgery, Mummy.”

Rose smiled. “I heard.”

“They took my appendix out,” she said.

“I heard that, too.”

“What did they do with it?”

“Chucked it into the rubbish bin out back,” James said with a quick wink. Sianin’s eyes widened, and he chuckled. “Nah, doctors have a special sort of rubbish bin that they put body parts into.”

“That’s neat,” Sianin said, yawning. “When can I go home?”

“Probably tomorrow,” James answered. “The doctors want to keep you overnight to make sure everything’s all right before they let you go.”

“You’ll stay, right Daddy? You promised.”

“I did,” he said, nodding. “And I will. I’ll stay with you for as long as the doctor wants to keep you here.”

Sianin looked at Rose. “Will you stay, Mummy?”

Rose pursed her lips. “I need to go home and take care of your sisters.”

Sianin bobbed her head in acceptance. When she next blinked, her eyes rolled back a little bit.

“Are you still sleepy?” Rose asked, stroking Sianin’s cheek.

Their daughter nearly purred and tilted her head into her mother’s touch. Rose continued her ministrations, and Sianin melted into the mattress. Five minutes later, she was asleep again.

Rose’s happy demeanor evaporated as her shoulders slumped.

“Hey,” James said, taking Rose’s free hand. “She’s fine.”

“I know. I just… I hate that she got so sick. We should’ve taken her to the doctor sooner.”

“We would’ve received the same diagnosis,” James said gently, even as his own guilt threatened to swallow him. He’d sent Sianin to school while she was suffering with an infected appendix. “She would’ve needed surgery regardless.”

Rose cracked a small smile, one that James returned. “Will you ever stop being logical?”

“Nope!” he said, beaming manically. “It’s one of the things you love best about me.”

Rose chuckled quietly and threaded their fingers together, lapsing back into silence as they watched over their sleeping child.

If you’ve read to the end, consider leaving a comment or reblogging? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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verannaca · 4 years

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i have to let you go

Rating: T Pairing: Kristanna Approx chapter WC: 2k https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13583022/1/i-have-to-let-you-go

Description: It had been almost a year since Anna had lost the last of her blood-family. She'd just began to accept that her sister was gone when she felt a calling in her soul. Elsa was calling to her, and it was time to find her. She needed to know what really happened. With Kristoff by her side and nightmares plaguing her brain, it was time for Anna to see Ahtohallan.

Notes: This is not 100% canon to the events that took place in F2.

[Chapter 1]

Six months earlier…

Time was moving slowly. It felt as though the world was passing by in slow motion. Sounds were distant. Voices weren't registering in her brain.

I guess you're Queen now…

He came back for her. He'd saved her from the giants and gotten her to the dam in time. She was able to do what was right. The dam fell, and nearly, so did she. But she was caught in the nick of time. And just as quickly, she was back in her lover's arms. Her best friend. Her only remaining family.

They hadn't spoken a word to each other on the journey back to the camps. He knew without knowing: Elsa was gone. That meant that Olaf was gone, too. And with most of the kingdom now washed away, Anna had lost almost everything.

Sitting next to her, he could feel her agony. It radiated off of her with more force than body heat. He'd never seen her so pained. Watery eyes, puffy cheeks, a swollen pout… She had no words. She couldn't speak. She was thinking too much. This was only the shock. The real pain of reality hadn't even hit yet, and she was dreading it. The anxiety in her core was making her sweat. Her hands were shaking so much in her lap, it was moving her whole frame. Although her breaths were there and shaky, she felt as though she wasn't breathing at all.

There's nothing to bury.

Only a stone with your name to mark a life that once was.

He had no words, either. He kept an arm around her to let her know she wasn't alone. This was new territory for him. He'd only ever lost her. Watched her turn away from life, and freeze before his very eyes. She was just out of reach. It was floating in the back of his head when he was told by Yelena that she'd left him behind. He'd grieved the potential loss of their relationship. It felt as rational as it did irrational. He hadn't been able to fully get her attention throughout that whole journey. Not until the end.

To an extent, he understood exactly how she was feeling. And now, he was dreading the pain he could've felt if she'd never made it out of that cave. If she'd given up and not returned. Then he would have nothing.

But that's not what happened. She was strong. She picked herself up and carried on as best she could. It wasn't until they were back with the Northuldra that she was able to find some words.

"I'm sorry I left you behind," she'd told him. "I was just so desperate to protect her."

He understood. He knew the feeling by heart. A million words rushed to his head in that moment; there were so many things he needed to say and needed her to hear. But now wasn't the time for a speech. Just some simple words that she'd never forget.

"It's okay," he told her. He held her a little closer, making sure to look her in the eyes as he said, "my love is not fragile."

The rest of the day felt like a blur. She couldn't be happy for freeing the forest. In fact, she was beginning to overthink things. It made her feel selfish. She couldn't help but think, if the dam hadn't fallen, I'd at least have my home.

If we'd forgotten about this past and pretended it never happened, Elsa would still be here.

It wasn't that simple. Elsa was stubborn. Determined. A tiny bit oblivious to those around her. Once she made up her mind, she stuck to it no matter what. It was a good quality for a woman to have, and a terrible quality for a sister. If she'd just listened.

Slowed down for five minutes.

Spoken to me like I wasn't a child.

By the time she'd come to her senses, they'd returned to what was left of their kingdom. She was staring blankly at the rubble below. The pain was too much.

Every painting. Every photograph. Every physical memory. Gone.

She clutched on tighter to the satchel across her chest as more tears flowed silently down her cheeks. All she had left were the sticks, coal, and a single carrot of her childhood best friend, and the scarf her mother used to wear. She had no other physical memories of her family. This was it.

"Anna." The voice was distant. It seemed to echo, which was odd seeing as they were outside in an open space. She felt a hand on her shoulder; the hand of her man. "We're going to take care of this, okay? You don't need to think about it right now. You did the right thing and the people are behind you. Just stay standing."

The words came so slowly; breathily; quietly; gently. She didn't hear them. She felt a squeeze on her shoulder, a kiss atop her head, and then nothing. She didn't feel entirely alone. She felt safe. He would take care of her. He understood her.

The world blurred and dropped around her. She didn't register that she'd collapsed until a couple of people were by her side, asking her if she was all right. She was not all right. They spoke to her, but she remained silent, staring, unmoving.

They'd rushed to rebuild the castle. It wasn't nearly as large, but it honoured the Northuldra beautifully. It was still a work in progress, and would be for a long while, but it was liveable for the time-being. They received shipments of food and various supplies to keep the citizens safe and healthy, though many were forced to move elsewhere. Those that survived on the hills offered refuge and food to those in need.

This sacrifice was too great.

She'd worried that it was a mistake. Sacrificing the safety of her own people and home for the sake of a history that she had nothing to do with. Selfish.

She was not selfish. The opposite. The most selfless person to walk the Earth. Everything she did, she did for others. Always. But this time; just this once, it was too much. This loss was too much.

She'd been physically ill for the first two months. Her diet and sleep were horribly affected by her grief and devastation. The nightmares hadn't set in yet, but only because she wasn't ever sleeping. She'd felt guilty for leaving Kristoff behind. She'd felt extra guilty for letting him take care of her after she abandoned and hurt him. But he insisted. He reminded her constantly that he loved her and was willing to wait. He was patient and understanding. She didn't need to worry about him.

"I'm a big boy. I can speak for myself."

If she'd had the energy, she would've argued. He was in pain, too. Who was taking care of him?

They'd been staying in one of the farmhouses unaffected by the wave. The owners were kind enough to house many, seeing as they had the most room and the most food. But products wouldn't last forever, and winter was hitting hard. The timing could not have been worse.

A public wake was held in memory of their fallen Queen. Citizens lit candles and sang a song into the night sky every night since their princess returned. The coronation was going to have to wait, but people had started acknowledging Anna as their new Queen already. She'd become queen in that cave, though that was the last thing on her mind in that moment.

Things had gotten only a little easier in spring when she had her own room to return to, hide in, and sleep in. It was a new safe space. She and Kristoff had decorated it to their own liking. It was his idea; something to keep her busy until she had to be queen.

Elsa had three years to prepare and heal after their parents never returned from their trip. Anna had only a few months, and a lot more grief and uncertainty to process. She was only twenty-one; the same age her sister was.

How could so much change in just three years? To get her back, and lose her just as fast.

Council meetings were difficult to attend. The moment Anna wasn't being engaged, she was lost in painful thought; so far into her own mind that she didn't hear the voices attempting to snap her out of her daze. It startled her every time, and almost always resulted in tears. She pulled through best she could, wiping her emotions away, taking a deep breath, and speaking as a queen would. This is it.

She felt as though she was hanging on by a thread, ready to snap and fall at any moment. She wondered; how long could she keep this up?

She dreamed of all the things she could've said or done differently. She dreamed of what could've been if she'd been more aggressive. She dreamed of a fight that her heart desired, that would never come.

Though these dreams were painful to process upon waking up, they beat the nightmares. She couldn't stand to hear those voices anymore; the laughter, the singing, the sounds of the ice- it was too much. It wasn't bittersweet; it was haunting.

Why couldn't we have done it together?

At least we could've died together.

But then Kristoff would have nothing. He'd be alone. He never would've gotten closure or answers.

And it would've been her fault.

No. That was worse. The thought of hurting him was so much worse than her own suffering. He deserved better than what she'd given him, and she had to prove it.

She worked hard on communication. Telling him that she loved him and was thankful for him. Thanking him for his efforts. Telling him when she was in need. Asking about his own feelings. Talking to him about his own pain. Letting him know that it was okay for him to talk to her.

"We have to take care of each other. It's us against the world now."

She'd asked him if he wanted to leave. If she'd hurt his feelings; broke his trust. If he'd given up on their love. If he felt too neglected.

He was honest, as per her own demand. He told her about his heartache; how she'd made him feel. How lost and alone he was. How confused. He told her how important communication was to him; now more than ever.

She heard every word. Thought on it. Cared for it. Care for him. She swore to do her best. To speak up. To swallow her pride or fear and speak her mind. That was all he needed, and all he needed to hear. He trusted her more than anyone. She was his best friend. Now and always.

It had been nearly seven months. Time seemed to crawl, and yet, Anna couldn't believe how long it had been. The vivid dreams made it feel like it hadn't been nearly a year since she'd last seen, touched, or heard her sister. Being in a new building, surrounded by new things, made it feel distant. The life she knew was now a distant dream. Her staff remained; that part was at least the same. But the pain in their gazes as they looked at her, the last of her blood, was a reminder of what she'd lost. After too many tearful encounters, she decided to relieve them of their duties and have them live elsewhere. It was a difficult decision, and it took the last piece of her childhood with, but it was necessary. She needed to build a fresh start.

And yet, she was obsessing. Every conversation led back to her desire to find the caves on her own. To make her way across the sea and walk the lands that stole her family. Something in her core was begging to go. Kristoff wouldn't let her. In fact, he was strongly against it.

"Your whole family was lost to the same quest. It doesn't matter how close they got or what they found; they never made it home. You cannot suffer the same fate."

It caused fights. She didn't want to hear that truth. She needed him to let her go.

"The kingdom needs you. Your people need you," he'd remind her. "And I need you."

It ended her obsession for a short time, but they'd end up in the same discussion almost every evening. Then they'd fight, calm dpwn, talk, and then sleep. They felt a distance forming between them. They'd almost always been inseparable; head-over-heels for each other, and they showed it. But lately, they weren't even up for cuddling. They craved affection and human contact, but feared using each other or hurting their relationship. They'd tried healing via sex only once and ended up regretting it for the following week. It wasn't them. Lust wasn't them. They needed love.

They weren't in the mood for love. They needed a friend. They were the friend that the other person needed. But there was a lingering pain. The grief had affected their romance, which added to their overall sadness. It felt like a hopeless, never-ending loop of devastation. Nothing was working in their favour.

She'd almost left. She almost gave in and left in the night to chase history once again. But she couldn't. She didn't have freedom anymore. She had a job now. Duties and responsibilities to tend to. Twenty-one going on forty.

Maybe it would be easier if the circumstances were different. If she'd chosen, or been asked. But she didn't have a choice. There was nobody else. No siblings, no cousins, no children- she was the last of her bloodline. All that had been built; generations of history was under her belt now. It was all hers, and she had to make it last.

I need to go there.

I need to see why it was worth their lives.

#Frozen 2 #kristanna #fic #it takes a while #for the mystery to build #and i'm v anxious #but i know it'll be good #ESPECIALLY for anna fans #:')

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mylifeasevelyn · 5 years

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Orphan

Hello dear stranger, it’s me, Evelyn. Yeah, it’s been a long time... I’ve written a lot of drafts throughout the past couple of months, but I could never finish them or wrap my thoughts properly... until today.

The past 15 months have all been about rediscovering myself after breaking free from my abuser. I truly thought it was going to be an easy transition, but fuck no, it wasn’t. The first six months were shit ‘cause she kept trying to contact me and trying fuck me up psychologically, and the following months were confusing, to say the least. Too much shit went down and thanks to the few years of free therapy I got from my shitty university, I’ve been processing everything without resorting to self destruction in the process. Ever since I broke contact with my abusive mother/the demon who cannot be named/former wife to my dad, my father and I have been sort of trying to bond as father-daughter. We have never been truly close and I truly can’t remember why ‘cause I cannot remember my childhood or teenage years. My memory is hazy from back then due to all the abuse and trauma I endured at such a young age. Anyways, overall, my life was going from ugh to meh (depression much? Lol)

Shit started to hit the fan on October 30th, 2019. I remember that day clearly because of what happened the following day... anyways, I remember asking my shrink to give a call asap. Within 30 minutes she gave me a call. I was studying at the library at the time. I exited the place and made my way to the closest place where I could speak privately. Long story short, I told her my depression was making a huge return. I was slowly but surely losing interest in the things I was doing, regardless of my feeble attempts to keep myself sane in the process. After she hang up, I kept thinking about how I no longer had anything to fight for. No real sense of family, no real sense of friends, nada. Not even a fucking a pet to come back home and take care of or something (although having a pet while being in this mental state is not my kinda thing to do tbh.) It was in that moment that I remembered that over ten years ago, I used to work as a waitress to grab some cash to eventually travel to Buenos Aires and see My Chemical Romance live, which I did (hell yeah.) Fuck, but that shitty dream of seeing them live again had ended there when the band broke up. October 31st came and well, y’all know what happened already. Having them back shook my world and gave me another reason to keep fighting this mental illness and all the other bullshit I’m still going through. The following weeks became more bearable, but still, something wasn’t right. Another month went by. It was a Wednesday midnight, I was about to get to bed when I got a text from my father, back at it again with the suicidal thoughts. He’s done this for the last couple of years, the first time affecting me so bad that I had a panic attack (fyi, we live in different cities, I can’t just go and see him right away.) Again, thanks to therapy, I’ve learnt how to take a step back and see things with a better perspective. After reading his text, I once again took the role of parentified child and tried my best to comfort him, and insisting on him getting therapy. And as stubborn as he is, he said no and started making excuses and me, as patient and comforting as I know I can be, I kept telling him that I couldn’t always be there for him and it would make me feel more at ease if he would just freaking go and see a professional. I gave him links to read and find the right therapist for him and all that jazz. I also told him that if he wasn’t gonna do it for him, then he should at least do it for his daughter. The following day he sent me pictures of him having a great fucking time with his friends while I was here, back home, fucking worried. So yeah, damn right I got angry at him. I didn’t reach back to him until the following Monday ‘cause he kept texting me and I was getting annoyed by the endless I’m okay pictures he was sending me. I gently told him to back off and give me space. More months went by and we kept being in touch and seeing each other, pretending like it was all freaking peachy, as always. Believe the lie. Remember?

January 2020 came by and a friend told me she was going to see a Queen tribute band with his dad and I thought it would be a great opportunity for my dad and I to properly bond, since we’re both passionate about music. I invited him to the show and he said yes. Another month went by and we met again. I could tell something was off about him the moment he walked through my door, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was doing my make up while he waited for me to be done. Mind you, we don’t talk much because he is a really quiet man when he is around me, my brother and his ex-wife. The moment he started talking I could tell he was venting, and I was carefully listening and responding when necessary. And that’s when he admitted to me that he was back to doing shady businesses with criminals. Since he knows I’m not a judgy person, he told me everything in detail. The more he told me, the more my body was becoming tense, to the point where I pulled a neck muscle. But my stomach truly turned when he told me, casually, that he had given my security number to a thug as “insurance”. The moment he said that, I remembered when he, a few weeks back, had asked for my security number and I asked why he needed it, and he said it was because he’d forgotten it. I was stupid and naîve enough to trust him and he straight up lied to me, yet again. Whenever fucked up shit like this happened, child me would become paralysed or mute. Hell, I used to stutter and mumble till age 13. My teachers were always nice to me about it ‘cause I was a good, responsible student. That’s all I can remember. So, it’s safe to say that I was in shock. He kept on talking and I could see my reflection in the mirror starting to change. Shit. Not a panic attack. Not now. I don’t know how, but I managed to keep my shit together. We left my apartment. I wasn’t feeling well. Something was wrong. I couldn’t process what had just happened. I was back to being a child. I couldn’t talk. I texted my shrink. It was an SOS moment. She couldn’t call me. Fuck. My mind kept telling me what happened is wrong, this is wrong... but what exactly_ is_ wrong? Why am I feeling this way? A couple of hours went by and I was able to block those thoughts from disrupting me. I slowly started chatting again. My father was unaware of what was happening. I’m pretty sure he thought I was grumpy or something. Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me this way before, lol.Either way, he never asks about me, my life. It’s always been about him since we’ve officially “reconnected.” Well, the more I think about it, since forever.

Night time had finally come and it was time for the show. Things were still awkward between my father and me, but I was somehow more relaxed ‘cause I knew I was meeting my friend and her dad. They were late and my father and I were barely talking to one another, so I said fuck it, grabbed my phone and started checking my social media to make time go by faster. And alas, my friend and her dad finally made it. What a relief. I started feeling my usual self coming back. I was back to talking and being my usual goofy self. Unfortunately, my father was being an asshole, I cracked jokes and tried my best to include him in the conversation but he wouldn’t even laugh. He would just look away, so I retreated a bit and I went back to just being awkward with him. Right before the show started, there were two empty seats with a better view right next to were my friend was sitting, so my father suggested we should go and sit there instead. I gladly agreed. I changed seats right away. I looked back, he didn’t move an inch. Instead, he was signalling me what I think meant something like “yeah, yeah, go ahead” and at this point I was looking at him, confused. I was thinking: “dude, really? We’re supposed to be here and bond. Not sit three seats away from each other. Pff” My friend’s father was cool enough to change seats with my friend so that we could sit next to each other. So, there we were, from left to right: me, my friend, her father, and my father. At the moment, I remember telling my friend: “oh good, I hope they bond and have fun since they are almost the same age and wearing the same coloured t-shirts! Bahaha” The show went on smoothly. 10/10. But part of me was still keeping an eye on my father, making sure he was having a good time. My friend would check on him and tell me if he was having fun. As I predicted, he cried while singing his lungs out to Bohemian Rhapsody. Both him and I miss her deeply. His mother, my grandmother. Anyways, the show was over and I had to get back to my dad. The moment the lights were back on and I looked at him, I could tell he had been crying, so my stupid heart and empathic soul gave him a break and tried their best to get back on more friendly terms. Unfortunately, he was back to being unfriendly with the rest of us. So much so, that he grabbed my shoulder and moved me away from my friend and her dad. Again, it didn’t feel right when he did that. That feeling felt so familiar, but I couldn’t remember why... I eventually lost sight of my friend and we got lost in the crowd that was exiting the stadium. For a moment I stopped somewhere where there wouldn’t be a shit ton of people walking all over me and I turned around to see if I see if I could find them to at least say goodbye. My father was vocal again and told me to just keep going and I insisted on trying to find them. As you can guess, I had no luck finding them. Now it was time for me and him to go to each other’s home. At this point it was almost midnight and I had to get on a bus to go back. He insisted on taking me back home (40km away.) Had I found my friend, we would’ve gone back home together, as intended. The ride back home was filled by John Williams’ score of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I chose the music ‘cause at this point I had a headache and since I suffer from motion sickness and I was out of dramamine, I had to listen to my music. I tried making conversation and all I got back from him was “really”, “oh”, “yeah”, “oh, really?” and “oh, yes.” I was trying my best not to cry. The moment the score started playing A window to the past’s part in Mischief Managed! A memory came back. I used to lock myself up in my bedroom and play that song on loop while crying to drown out the sound of me sobbing. I also remember that whenever I cried too hard at night, the following day I’d had to wear make up on my eyes to cover my puffy eyes. I was fourteen years old back then. That was the year my father cheated on my mother and moved to my grandmother’s house, who had just passed away months prior to all that toxic drama that they always had. I didn’t cry because I wanted my mommy and daddy back together, fuck them. I cried because I had to go back to my dead friend’s house and have my happy memories turn to shit after seeing her house lifeless too. Remembering that fucked up memory puts me back on the brink of tears as I’m typing it now. Man, that’s the reason why I don’t enjoy listening to_ A window to the past _anymore. Anyways, I was back home safe and sound, him too. I was feeling mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.

I abruptly woke up, found myself lost in my own bed, my own bedroom, my own apartment. I shook my head as an attempt to get my shit together and that was when I heard a voice in my head say: “he was abusive yesterday. He’s abusive too, just like her.” And_ fuck_. Yes. That was it. That’s why I felt weird. That’s why I almost had a panic attack. That’s why I almost cried twice throughout the day. He’s always been this way with me. He doesn’t know shit about me. Whenever I tell him something about me, he doesn’t even remember having that conversation at all. Hell, he can’t even remember my friends names! He never asks about how I’m doing, not that I care since we’re not close whatsoever, but you know, he should at least know that since, well, he’s my fucking father. Whenever he bought me a present growing up, it was always something he liked, something he wanted me to wear. Hell, I can’t even tell how many pink pieces of clothing I’ve gotten rid of because I fucking_ hate that colour, or maybe the reason why I fucking hate that colour so much is because of how much he forced me into wearing it. He’s always been a distant father, but at least he never beat the shit out of me or told me I was fat or ugly, or that he preferred my brother over me (like my abusive mother used to do.) Then again, that doesn’t make him any less abusive. Abuse is abuse. His motto’s always been “here, have this money, do whatever.” I used to appreciate that because I thought “cool, thank you for not being nosy.” Truth is, the reason why we can’t connect, bond or whatever is because he doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s been rejoicing on the fact that I’m “on his side” now because I no longer talk to abuser n° 1. On one of my sessions, my therapist told me that the reason why abuser 1 always did her best to crush my self-steem was because she considered me competition. And I dumbfoundedly asked “competition?”. And she replied: “yes, she feels like she was to compete with you for your father’s attention.” My head exploded after that statement. Right now I can’t help but think of what she told me that way. My father has kinda well more like really, been doing kinda the same shit to me, trying to keep me as close as possible to him, to the point where he texts every other day, which he never did until now. The suicide drama, the criminal activity, and a lot more shit that I’m sick of having to deal with. Like I said before, I’ve always been on the role of a parentified child. I always had to deal with this shit _and on my own. I’ve always been the punching bag. I always had to deal with all their drama when all I wanted was to have a normal childhood. All I got instead is a suicide attempt, a decade of self-harm and a long ass history of drug and alcohol abuse, which they know nothing about because I always kept it to myself. I always felt like a burden. I always felt guilty. I was always a “crybaby” because abuser 1 used to tell me that as a kid and whenever she used to see me cry about something as an adult.

So yeah, I’m fucking done with my family. Oh, and my brother? In case you haven’t read any of my previous posts, he’s just as an asshole as the other two are. He’s violent like abuser 1, so fuck you very much, I’m okay this way. He won’t talk to me and he won’t even tell me why. The rest of my family don’t know shit about me because I was always the “quiet one” so I know for a fact that I’m most likely the black sheep for not returning to my hometown in the past year or so. Abuser 1 is very into deceiving appearances and wearing a public mask, so I know for a fact that she’s playing the victim because she can’t reach me anymore, bahaha. fml.

With this post, I can officially say that I’m done grieving the family I always wanted to have but never did. I’ve been meaning to legally change my name because my middle name is abuser’s name 1 and now that abuser 2 has used my personal information against my will to do criminal activity, I have more than enough reasons to reinvent myself in every fucking way I want and need. With that being said, if you’ve got some last name suggestions, feel free to send me suggestions. This is only the beginning of the new chapter of my life. Hopefully your new chapter is starting now or soon too, dear stranger.

Never give up, always fight

Love, Evelyn

#text #personal #abuse #depression #anxiety #panic attacks #parentified child #borderline personality disorder #like if you read please #ty #my life as Eve #my life as evelyn

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emybain · 6 years

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After Archenemies 3/?

In honor of not getting on Tumblr tomorrow, here is part 3 of whatever this is to anyone who liked the first two parts. In all honesty idk what this part is, and it might be a little soon for what follows, but I wasn't planning on making this fic long anyways so...yeah. Here is part 1 and here is part 2 if you care. feel free to check out my other works also! enjoy! warning: I dont really edit these that much, so please be kind if you see errors! this is also shorter than what I usually write, just fyi.

Edit: heck i forgot to post the links to the previous parts...ill do it later lmao

Nova’s communicator band had gone off three times in the past hour. She had taken it off and set it on her mattress after it first went off. She didn't need the distraction, especially if that distraction was Adrian Everhart.

“Why are you still staring at that thing?” Nova looked up to see Honey in the doorway of their shared room, leaning against the cracked door frame. She was examining her polished nails. “If you look at it any longer, the filthy Renegade will be able to turn back to normal.”

Nova pushed back the chair she was sitting on in front of Honey’s vanity where Danna’s butterfly was currently trapped. It remained immobile for the most part. When Nova would start to worry if it had died, it would crawl around its little prison. “Just thinking.” About her uncle. About how they would be able to free him from the Renegades. About Nightmare. About a certain Renegade boy.

She closed her eyes, feeling a headache forming at the base of her neck.

“Well, you can think and answer your little Renegade buddies.” Honey gestured towards the communicator band resting on top of a jewelry box. “That ringing is driving me nuts. I can hear it all the way downstairs.”

Nova rolled her eyes, but picked up the band nonetheless. “It’s only gone off three times, Honey. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Me? Not dramatic?” Honey laughed, the sound like bells. “In your dreams, sweet girl.” She strutted into the room, reached over Nova, grabbed a magazine that was open on her vanity, and sauntered back out. Her perfume lingered, stronger than ever. Nova waved her hand in front of her face. Vintage fumes were the last thing she needed for her aching head.

Her communicator band went off again, and she heard Honey yelling from the first floor to shut it off before she did. Nova looked down at the device, scrolling through her notifications. The first one, nearly an hour ago, was from Adrian.

This is last minute, but we’re meeting in the HQ library in about 30 minutes, Let me know when you get here. It’s about Nightmare.

Nova froze. That couldn’t be good. This was it, she thought. They figured her out, and this was Adrian trying to lure her into a trap to arrest her.

Taking a deep breath, she checked the next message, which was sent twenty minutes after the first.

Nova? Are you busy? If not, please respond.

The third one was five minutes after the first.

Of course you’re busy. You would’ve responded by now. Ignore my last message.

The most recent text was sent two minutes ago.

Nova? We’re all here. You’re not dead or something, are you? Please tell me you aren’t because I would be really upset.

Nova snorted, shoulders relaxing in relief. She believed she was safe, for the time being. She bit her lip, thinking of a response.

Hey. Sorry. Turns out I’m pretty sick, and my uncle took anything that could distract me so I could rest.

Nova thought back to a few days before, when she had pretended to feel under the weather in order to have an excuse to leave the visit to Max. She couldn’t stand to be there any longer without being weighed down by the guilt. It was a believable lie. Besides, she didn’t have time to do detective work with Adrian on her secret identity, nor did she have the patience for it. The quicker she and the rest of the Anarchists figured out a way to free Ace, the sooner she could drop the ridiculous Renegade charade.

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to come by later to give you some company?

The smile that grew on Nova’s face was inevitable, along with the giddy spark in her stomach. She suppressed it though, and denied his offer, pushing away all thoughts of being able to curl up against Adrian while they did something as mundane as watching a movie.

No, thank you though. My uncle is pretty strict whenever I get sick and doesn’t like visitors. Maybe another time?

She received a response almost immediately.

Definitely! I hope you get to feeling better, Nova.

It was so sweet. Nova’s heart ached. Even though she wasn’t sick, she had a feeling she would feel better soon anyways.

Thanks, Adrian.

Nova sent the text. She debated on whether or not to send something else. Something came to mind, and she immediately cringed. Then Ace’s words floated through her mind. Earn his affection.

Well.

With a defeated sigh, Nova reluctantly sent a text with a heart.

Sweet rot, her IQ just dropped by 20.

Downstairs, Honey started singing. Nova suspected she was cleaning; she tended to sing when fixing up the old house. Nova groaned. Honey wasn’t a terrible singer, but it did not mix well with Nova’s pounding head. Maybe she was actually getting sick.

Standing from the vanity, Nova brushed off her leggings. The butterfly was moving in its prison, crawling lazily along the side of the glass. Nova bent down to eye level with it. She could’ve sworn it made eye contact with her.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” she murmured. “Maybe in a different reality we’d be friends.” She meant it, much as she hated to admit it to herself. Danna was a lot like her; it was a shame they were too alike, for that’s what got Danna trapped in the first place.

Nova sighed and rose back up. She took off her communicator band, then reached for her coat lying on the bed and headed downstairs. Honey’s trilling voice grew louder. She was singing some song about the beauty of the southern countryside.

Leroy was seated in the dimly lit kitchen, surrounded by lab equipment. Nova saw the samples of Agent N she had snatched in the past few weeks. He nodded in Nova’s direction as form of greeting, too engulfed in his work. As Nova suspected, Honey was cleaning. She was standing on a towel on top of the counter, wiping a wet rag across the higher cabinets.

Nova cleared her throat. “I’m going for a walk. You guys need anything while I’m out?”

They both chorused a “No.” Nova nodded.

“I’ll be back, then.”

“Hey, Adrian...um… come check this out,” Ruby whispered hesitantly from the computer across his. Adrien looked up from his communicator band, the faint trace of a smile on his lips from Nova’s last text. The heart was unexpected, and frankly, not like Nova at all, but it radiated Adrien’s body in warmth. The concentrated set in Ruby’s eyes made the smile fade, however.

They were in the Renegade library and archives, doing research on Nightmare. Adrian had about five open tabs about her most recent sightings and activity. One of the tabs was an article discussing the identity of the Anarchist, but the information was of no use to Adrian.

He got out of his chair and walked around the table to stand behind Ruby. Next to her, Oscar leaned over, craning his neck to see the screen. There was an unopened file in front of Ruby.

“So I was thinking about what you told us, about Nightmare being Ace Anarchy’s niece?” Adrian nodded, and Ruby continued. “Well, his last name is Artino, correct?” Adrian nodded again. “I looked up the name, and well, I guess you should see for yourself.” She clicked on the file. It was a report from about ten years ago filed by his own dad, Hugh Everhart.

Four people found dead. David Artino: age 31. Tala Artino: age 30. Evie Artino: age 11 months. One unnamed man: age unknown. Suspected Anarchist or Roach affiliation.

Forensics confirm all deaths were a result of direct trauma from bullet wounds, without prodigy interference. Prints found on the gun matched both those of the unnamed man and also those of Alec Artino (alias: Ace Anarchy).

There is reason to suspect the deaths of the three family members were done as a killing for hire. The motive for the homicide remain under investigation. See the full report as filed by Hugh Everhart (Captain Chromium) here.

Additional notes: The eldest child, a six year old girl, was not found at the scene. Neighbors have reported no knowledge of her whereabouts. A report has been made to the Renegades missing persons unit.

Oscar whistled lowly. Ruby had highlighted the last paragraph. She was watching the two boys, lips pursed. Adrian read the report, over and over again. Something about it wasn’t right.

“Was the girl ever found?” Oscar asked. Ruby answered his question by opening another file. This one was a missing persons form, dated ten years ago.

Name: Nova Jean Artino

Age: Six (6) years old

Height: Unknown

Weight: Unknown

Description: Black hair, blue eyes, parents were Italian and Filipino.

Status: Not found

If any information is known, contact the Renegades Missing Persons Unit.

Below the information was a fuzzy picture of a girl, taken by an outdated camera probably. She grinned at the person behind the camera, a wide gap below her upper lip where two front teeth should have been. In her arms was a newborn baby, fast asleep in her sister’s arms. Adrian let out a small gasp. He took the mouse from Ruby and zoomed in on the girl’s face. Her features were chubby, but the hard set of her jaw was unmistakable.

“Great skies,” Oscar breathed. “That’s not...it can’t be..”

“It is,” Ruby confirmed, disbelief in her voice. “That’s our Nova.”

#archenemies spoilers #archenemies #nova artino #adrian everhart #oscar silva #ruby tucker #danna bell #my writing #im sorry lmao

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thewolfiespack · 7 years

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31 DAYS OF STYDIA: day six/seven

A/N: Hey ho! Here it is -finally- day six and seven! Tomorrow (17) is my birthday IM SO EXCITED IM TURNING 18 WTF AAAAA!! So I probably wont be able to post this weekend, I’M SO SORRY. But ill post on monday, pink promise! He you like this one, tell me what you think. Love ya xx

Word count: 1329

31 DAYS OF STYDIA: day one

31 DAYS OF STYDIA: day two/three

31 DAYS OF STYDIA: day four/five

Day 06 Stiles was feeling better, it was almost like a weight came out of his chest. He was waiting for her call because He really wanted to hear her voice before go to sleep, He wanted to make sure she was okay. But Lydia didn't call. And for obvious reasons Stiles started to freak out. Since the first time He asked if everything was fine, he knew they'd lied. 1:25 AM Stiles: Scott, where are you? Are you with Lydia? ... She said she would call but she didn't, I think something is wrong Missed call Scott?????? Missed call I knew something was wrong!! Just tell me what is going on!!!!!! 1:46 AM Missed call Scott: Calm down dude, I was just sleeping Stiles: UHUM, obviously Scott: And I haven't seen Lydia since yesterday Stiles: Go check on her please Scott: Stiles, don't worry, maybe she forgot or... I don't know... Stiles: I don't think she would forget. Yesterday we had the conversation... Scott: And... Stiles: And... Well, she didn't say what I've been waiting for, but she said she will say it face to face Scott: That's great... Right? Stiles: Yep, and she's planning on coming this weekend Scott: This is weekend is tomorrow Stiles: Oh my God...... It's tomorrow I'm going to see her tomorrow Okay, I need to clean up the apartment..... Shit, it's going to take forever 2:09 PM His cellphone started ringing in his pocket, the teacher stopped the class and every student was looking at him. “I... My dad” Stiles got up and got out of the class as fast as he could, he couldn't miss that call. “Hi” She said on the other side, it was great to hear her voice “You probably thought i was eaten by the gigantic monster we are all fighting in here”

“Well...For a moment, yes”

“And you are probably in the middle of your class so I'm going to be quick”

“You knew I was in class and called me anyway??”

“It's important” Stiles didn't say anything else, just waited for her to continue “I don't think I can go to DC tomorrow... Please don't kill me”

“Okay...”

“I can't tell you why right now but I'll try next week... I really wanted to go” She was trying to make the situation better, but Lydia and Stiles knew it wasn't working -You are very mad, right?

“No... Of course not... Thank God I hadn't clean the apartment” He laughed, even so there was nothing to laugh about. Stiles knew Lydia wanted to go, and that she was sad she wouldn't be able to... And well, the reason really didn't make a difference at that point 'cause she wasn't going to visit him anyways.

"You believe me when I say that I tried everything to make it work? That I really wanted to go?" She was definitely sad, and that broke his heart into pieces.

"I believe you..." Lydia didn't say anything else and all he could hear was her breath, that for some reason made him feel in peace -I guess what you wanted to say to me face to face will have to wait.

"But it will happen... Sooner or later, I'll say it back."

_______________________________________________________________

A/N: For this chapter i think this music fits perfect. A Million Dreams (The Greatest Showman) If you want to read while listening to the song, play it on my command

Day 07

Even without Lydia with him, Stiles was feeling good, he tried not to focus on her "not coming" and focused on her "wanting to come" and that made him feel better. Of course he would be happier than ever if she was there sharing the apartment with him for just some hours. The apartment she helped decorate. That should be hers too.

3:09 AM

Stiles: Hey! So, I was thinking about something... Actually Scott wondered it first but we think we should ask you because you are the only one that can answer it for us.

Well... I'm asking you, but just because he said it would be fine if I did

Lydia: Stiles, please just go to the point! You send so many confusing messages I forget what the subject is

Stiles: You are right

Okay... So, if you are about to kill someone...

Lydia: What???!!!!?

Stiles: Like, let's pretend you are going to be really mad at somebody in the future, and you have plans to kill them... BUT NOW you predict this persons death

Lydia: Okay...

Stiles: Do you know that you'll be this person's killer, or you just know it when it happens?

Lydia: Stiles??? WTF???

Stiles: It's a great question, c'mon!

Lydia: Well, I can't answer it because I never killed anyone

Stiles: Hum....

But maybe you just don't know it yet

Lydia: Why would I kill someone? It doesn't make sense

Stiles: Of course it does! Did you understand the question? Because i can be confusing sometimes

Lydia: Hum, just sometimes????

Stiles: Okay, a lot of times...

But did you understand?

Lydia: Yes, but I don't know how to answer you

Stiles: Tell me what you think will happen

Lydia: I think I will predict but I probably won't know that I'm this person's killer

Just if I hate this person now and I have already plans in my mind of killing them...

Stiles: I think i understand

Lydia: Okay, let's pretend i hate you

Stiles: Okay, you hate me

Lydia: And i hate you so much that I'm planning to kill you for over a month and then I predict your death.

In this situation I'll probably know that I'm your killer.

Stiles: Then I'm dead

Lydia: Super dead

Stiles: That's interesting...

Not the fact that I'm going to be killed by you in this scenario but fine

I understand.

Lydia: Well, i still don't understand the reason for this question

Stiles: Just curiosity

Lydia: About that, what are you doing right now? *play now*

Stiles: Absolutely nothing, and you?

Lydia: Thinking

Stiles: That’s great, means your brain is working

Lydia: You didn’t let me finish! [It was funny, Stiles could hear every message in his head, he could hear Lydia saying all of that words, and he knew that was the exactly way she would say it.]

Stiles: Sorry, my bad

Lydia: Well, I was thinking about you

Stiles: Me? Why?

Lydia: You are living your dream, how that feels? I mean, first you got the girl and then you are going to be a fucking FBI agent

Stiles: It feels like a dream, ‘cause seriously, I’ve dreamed with this exact situation a lot of times…

A LOT

The only difference is that you were be by my side

Lydia: But I’m

Stiles: Not figurative speaking! I mean by my side for real.

By my side like sharing the bed right now.

Lydia: Share the bed… I like that

Stiles: I would say that the bed is waiting for you in here but I prefer the bed that’s in Beacon Hills

Lydia: You really consider coming back?

Stiles: We leave Beacon Hills but Beacons Hills never leaves us

Lydia: You are right, but we need to make an effort. I really don’t want to live in Beacon Hills

Stiles: Why not? Everything we have is in there

Lydia: Not if we build it somewhere else…

Stiles: C’mon you can’t be serious

Lydia: We need to move on

Stiles: It doesn’t need to be right now…

Lydia: Stiles, you took a really big step forward by going to DC, why do you want to take that step back?

Stiles: You are right… I don’t know

Lydia: Everyone is moving on. Scott is going to college, Malia desperately wants to go to Paris, and we are getting out of here.

Stiles: Than we build our lives somewhere else.

Lydia: A fresh start but not too fresh. Close to everyone but not too close.

Stiles: I’m almost sure you’ve been thinking about that for a while

Lydia: Kind of…

Stiles: For some reason that idea fits in my mind perfectly.

Lydia: That’s because we are together. And that fits perfectly.

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serrpentine · 7 years

Text

♚ —– 1990 / @erinseverly

They had a great time last night going out to Santa Monica pier, playing games and acting like the two kids they are deep inside, enjoying delicious fair food and dancing by the beach to the sound of great music. Unlike usual lately. Their honeymoon a few months ago turned out great. It was all great for a few weeks until things started spiraling downwards for the singer. More fuel or conflicts rather has been added to the fire since four months ago with the band more specifically. They started on their next upcoming album but of course Steven had to draw the last straw and get his ass fired not too long ago at all right as they’re doing so.

Progress has been slower than Axl likes and that’s only added to his frustrations meanwhile he’s been slacking off with his therapist which is definitely bound to take a turn for the worse, with his relationships anyway. With his marriage. He’s mostly been treating Erin like shit, they’re back to that again. The more days he misses at the doctor the more of an asshole he turns back into because obviously he can’t deal with this stress all on his own yet he’s been too busy trying to get a new drummer and produce the music on his own to even squeeze time in what’s most important.

But drifting away from his frustrations - the career part of his life - last night at Santa Monica was all great, he felt happy and stress free for awhile. Love between a husband and a wife was what it should be until it happened. He’s been pondering on it ever since, that’s why he’s still long awake at four in the morning as he stares at the wall and Erin sleeps soundlessly. It’s bothering him more than he’s led on, obviously. He doesn’t sleep good on most nights anyway but what small argument they got into at the pier is keeping him up all night long. Replaying the thought over and over.

The stars were out and the sea salt breeze was blowing their hair all around, getting in their eyes and mouth, they were laughing at that while admiring the clear Californian sky above the ocean - when they’d happen to see a woman and her husband having fun with their two and six year old being what a family should be - at the same time. Laughing coming from all of them, childish laughter. Even from the adults they were that happy. And doing something so simple riding the carousel just to make their kids happy. Of course they didn’t stare long but Axl’s gaze lingered before he turned to Erin and mentioned one thing about having kids since they hadn’t discussed it since their trip on the plane going to Hawaii a few months ago.

He was wondering if her thoughts had changed, he was so hoping they had. He was hoping so much that his heart dropped when he was sorely disappointed and Erin completely shot the idea down like she did on that day on the plane. It caused a small argument until he told her something like, ‘well it’s okay, probably didn’t give you enough time’ when in his mind he was about to scream. He’s about to scream now. In fact, he feels uncomfortable around her. Laying with her here with the thoughts really gnawing at him, the thoughts of what he really wanted to say. He has way too much time to think which is always a dangerous thing, being stuck inside his head for too long.

His back facing Erin, cheek pressed against his pillow while his hand with his wedding band lays flat against the mattress. Eyes flickering to the ring on his hand. Who is he actually even married to? The girl that constantly gushed and was always on board of starting a family one day, the exact kind of girl he was out trying to look for so he could have a family with one day. Also the kind of girl he thought he was never going to find out here in this city but he found her anyway because it was meant to be. Or the girl that’s so seemingly against children now it makes him ill? The longer he convinces himself that she’s lied to him all this time the more he chooses the latter. If the woman that loved kids and wanted them as much as he did was his wife then she wouldn’t deny them. He doesn’t want to be with this person if this is what she’s really wanted this entire time, no desire to have a family at all.

He finally drifts off to sleep but he ends up dreaming about it and eventually wakes himself back up around seven. Four hours of sleep but he’s waking up in a worse mood than he fell asleep in. He’s in the kind of mood where he’s sick of life and he’s sick of Erin’s shit to go along with it. He’s sure he knows today’s fate, pretend the discussion last night didn’t happen or Erin will say something about it and he’ll act like it’s fine to prevent a fight. Looking over at her sleeping form as he quietly pushes himself up, daylight dim in their room from the dark curtains keeping most of the sun out as it’s nearly fully risen in the sky as red brows crease. Eyes falling on her own ring.

He’s beginning to think she has no idea what that ring means to him. It hurts, crushes his heart to the point he wants to start crying at the thought of leaving her. Axl can’t find any reason why they’re still doing this if she promised one thing and now is saying another. Giving another moment to think about it before he turns to a fuck it attitude and tears himself away from her, the more he thinks about her words and attitude towards a family angers him enough to give him that fuck everything attitude. He uses the bathroom, including brushing his teeth and hair before grabbing his wallet, clothes and changing out in the condo’s living room so she can’t hear him. Slipping his shoes on, grabbing his car keys before walking to the door and not leaving anything behind. She can just guess where he’s off to if she wakes up before he gets back.

#erinseverly #:))))))))))))))

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kdinthecity · 7 years

Text

Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: Flight

So sorry for the hiatus on this one! Very cruel of me to leave Chapter 6 on a cliffhanger, too. So, for Chapter 7, I could not make it fit for Day 7 of Zutara Week (starlight) and I think it’s going to take another chapter or two to finish this story. Hopefully it won’t take me a month to post it, though.

The content of the “Blue Spirit” file is not what I expected. I have tried texting and calling Zuko numerous times because he HAS to see this. And I HAVE to know what he found in the “Painted Lady” folder. Needless to say, I do not sleep a wink.

This makes me a miserable wreck in the morning, but I remember to shower and put on clean clothes since I didn’t the day before. Gran Gran fusses at me for not eating breakfast. Apparently I skipped dinner the past two nights, too? I resent the look of utter disbelief she shoots me when I yell, “I am fine!”

I mean, I will be fine once I talk to Zuko. To avoid further questioning and expressions of pity, I wait on the sidewalk for him to pick me up. Except it isn’t his ten-year-old sedan that pulls up in front of my apartment building. I would have never pegged Iroh for a sports car aficionado, yet a white Lotus Elise now purrs in the nearest parking spot with a bearded driver poking his head out to grin and wave at me.

I smile back, but my heart sinks. It’s a two-seater which means no Zuko. That new car smell combined with crisp leather wafts when I open the door.

“Only eight more days until the season premiere of Crossroads! Aren’t you excited, Katara?” Iroh chirps.

I survey the interior like I’ve lost something—someone. “Where’s Zuko?”

“He’s fallen—” The old man lets out a raspy cough. “—ill today. I might be coming down with a little bug myself.”

He revs the engine and raises his eyebrows. I hum appreciatively, pretending to admire the power of the machine, but the vibration only heightens the sick sensation of worry I already feel in my stomach. Iroh doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort as he then launches into a long explanation on theories he has for upcoming episodes of our mutual favorite show. I don’t mention that I haven’t finished season six, yet, and he’s basically spoiling the ending for me. But I no longer hold the same anticipation—like something so trivial couldn’t possibly matter in comparison. It reminds me of how I couldn’t wait to get my ears pieced.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “Uncle Iroh? Where is Ursa?”

In truth, I already know the answer to this. Because her whereabouts are detailed in the Blue Spirit file.

“Ursa is… gone,” he answers simply.

“I know she had to go into hiding,” I say. “But… does Zuko know?” I'm almost certain that he doesn't, but my sources also list Iroh as a point of contact. Why would he keep this information a secret from his nephew when it so obviously causes him suffering?

Iroh lets out a long and labored sigh while fixating hard and fast on the road, very much in the same way that Zuko does when troubled by the topic of discussion. Seconds stretch to minutes, and I’m ready to fire my next question when he finally speaks again.

“I do not know what Zuko’s father told him about his mother,” he says. “But whatever it is, Zuko accepts that he will never see her again. And that is… for the best.”

Tears sting at the corner of my eyes, and a bitterness burns at the back of my throat. Because if my mother was out there somewhere, still alive, I'd do whatever it takes to find her.

"But why?” I ask.

“Because if Ozai knew where Ursa was, he’d kill her.”

"But Zuko thinks she's dead already. Why can't he at least know that she's alive? It doesn’t make sense!”

“It makes sense when you understand what kind of control Ozai can exert over his family. It is much safer this way.”

“But if Zuko knew—“

“If Zuko knew anything, his father would find a way to get the information from him and then kill him, too. Your family wouldn't be safe, either. It would be best to just let it go, Katara.“

I seethe at this response but don’t say anything more for the rest of the ride except thank you when Iroh drops me off at the Marine Center. It’s going to be another unproductive day at work for me as I’m plagued by thoughts such as…

I know Ozai is cruel and scandalous, but a killer?

And if Iroh knows so much, then how come Ozai hasn’t killed him?

Did Ozai kill my mother?

Zuko still hasn't answered my calls or texts and misses the next two days of work. I am worried to the point of exhaustion. Iroh doesn’t offer me any more rides to work, probably because of my aggressive line of questioning. Maybe I do have what it takes to become an investigative journalist. But if I would have kept my mouth shut, I could be seated comfortably in a luxury sports car instead of on the stinky crowded bus. I suppose the quest for truth involves making sacrifices.

For my mom, it meant sacrificing everything. I'm crying again, and this time, the bus driver hands me tissue, like he came prepared for that girl who always gets emotional. He obviously remembers who I am because he waits for me to get off at my stop, and I have to tell him I’m going one stop further today—to Mushi’s.

There are so many missing pieces to the story, and I plan to continue my investigation by stationing myself in our usual booth until either Zuko or Iroh decide to start explaining. The wait staff looks at me in the same way the bus driver does—like I'm going to spontaneously combust at any moment now. They offer me my usual, but I surprise them, too, but ordering something different.

What can I say? I’m investigating a murder now. I’m living dangerously.

OK, maybe trying the sea urchin was a little bold, especially when I’ve hardly eaten anything of substance for a few days. I am now poking at it with my chopstick, pretending it’s Ozai’s—ugh, I don’t even know what body part it would represent. I think I might throw up.

Odds of this greatly improve when Mai walks in the door, demanding to see Zuko. She is told that he is not here. She accuses the hostess of lying. I said the same thing to the poor woman when I arrived, but surely I didn't make that much of a scene? Oh God, I did put my hand on my hip just like that, though.

I try to look away, but I just can’t. Mai persists, now asking to see Iroh. When her tone shifts from forceful to frantic, I become less suspicious of her as an enemy and start thinking of her as a source. She works for Future Fire Technology, so maybe she knows something. But how do I approach her?

I don't have to. She catches my eye on her way out the door. She hesitates as if weighing her options, grimaces at the sight of my food, and finally decides to sit down after letting out a dramatic sigh.

She's really... pretty. I kinda want to scream right now.

"I can't seem to get through to anyone here, but maybe you can help me," she starts.

I nod.

She leans in and props her elbows up on the table. “Listen. Zuko is in big trouble. His dad found out he went to the police. He needs to… I dunno, get out of town for a little while until this shit blows over.”

The police?

Mai’s brow furrows under her thick fringe. I guess she wants some kind of response besides my blank stare because she shakes her head and mumbles stupid peasant before reaching into her handbag. She then extends her hand, draws in a shaky breath and places a USB drive on the table in between us. This one is very standard looking—not disguised to give color or moisture to one's lips.

“I can trust you, right?” she asks.

I gape at the device like it’s going to explode, but all I feel is the heat of her intense amber eyes boring into me.

“It’s more evidence for Zuko’s case. I’ve found some really weird stuff since I started working for Future Fire." She takes a cursory glance around the restaurant, and her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "I should NOT be doing this, and I was NEVER here, OK?”

Zuko’s case?

She pushes the USB drive all the way across the table to where it’s nestled underneath my elbow. “Keep it hidden, you dumbass.” Then she quickly stands and hisses, “Your food smells like shit,” before slithering away.

She may have inspired a new creature for my stories, an eel with spiky scales like a sea urchin. I debate on the name—Uniagi, perhaps? If only I could retreat into my imaginary world right now…

I bang on Iroh's apartment door. He finally answers but says that Zuko still has a relentless fever, and he doesn’t want me to catch it. I say I don’t care, I have to see him NOW.

It was no exaggeration. Zuko is really, really sick. Like deliriously feverish. I hold a cold cloth to his forehead. Zuko moans. Iroh paces the floor.

“I had counted on Zuko getting better by now,” he says. “This really interferes with your travel plans.”

“Our... travel plans?” This is equally unnerving and relieving to me, especially after what Mai said.

“Yes. You’re going to Alaska. I hope it wasn’t too forthright, but I took the liberty of booking your passage.”

"Where in Alaska?" I ask.

"You have family there, right?”

"Yes, I do."

And Zuko does, too.

Thankfully, the next day is Saturday, and the fever finally breaks. Zuko talks about the crazy dreams he had—something about dragons and a bald kid with blue arrow tattoos. He insists that miso soup and mochi ice cream are needed to nurse him back to full health. Like the dork that I am, I retrieve whatever he asks for and listen attentively to his stories. But it does not go unnoticed that he tends to change the subject when I bring up the USB drive and my mother's files. I haven't told him about Mai's visit, yet.

Our flight for Anchorage leaves Monday morning. I almost forget to call Yue to let her know I won’t be coming into work. The best reason I can come up with is the truth—I feel threatened. Now that I have read the files Mai gave me, I contend that Ozai would kill anybody who got in his way. I want to warn Yue, in fact, but I don’t really think she is a target. Future Fire’s donations to the Marine Center serve as a diversion tactic so that no one pays attention to the real work going on behind the scenes.

Zuko must have stumbled upon the same secrets when working there last summer. And so, his father gave him a permanent reminder on his face to never tell anyone. This is my speculation, anyhow, but maybe Zuko will tell me about it someday. He doesn’t owe me an explanation about his scar, but he better tell me what’s in that Painted Lady folder at least.

This is what I know: Zuko’s dad has been selling his VR technology to undisclosed clients off the record, many of whom serve in foreign militaries and governments. The VR headsets offer an enhanced tactical training platform for soldiers.

As if committing high treason wasn't bad enough, the gloves are being formulated for use as actual weapons—flame throwers, of sorts. And the exoskeleton will be reconstructed as high-powered armor. And all of this new technology is being tested in a remote area in central California.

Death Valley.

It’s a little complicated to get to my dad’s hometown, but my family normally flies to Seattle, then we connect to Anchorage. From there, a smaller commercial airline transports to outlying villages, and the closest one is King Salmon, a 30-minute drive away. My dad knows a pilot who will fly directly into the Naknek airport, but he operates seasonally, and is often very busy during the summer months.

Today’s travel itinerary confuses me, though. Iroh drops us off at a random train station so we can take an hour-long ride to a different airport across the bay. Then we fly to Chicago? I do the math in my head—a four-hour flight in the wrong direction—then another seven hours to Alaska. As far as I know, our tickets only take us as far as Anchorage. What then? I don’t ask, and Zuko doesn’t offer any explanation, either. In fact, he says very little with his headphones on, hidden beneath his hood. It is going to be a very long day.

When we land in Chicago, and Zuko receives a text from his uncle to change airlines, it hits me. We’re doing all of this to evade Ozai who might be trying to follow us. I pull my own hood over my head and without even realizing it, I grip Zuko’s elbow. There’s a softness in his golden eyes when he looks back at me and warmth in his fingertips when he clasps his hand over mine. It’s the same comfort he gave me that night in his car and a glimpse of the vulnerability we shared at the tide pools.

I shudder and finally admit my biggest secret of all. Because when I say this, it means I’m not in control anymore. “Zuko, I’m scared.”

I have been all along. Ever since Mom died. I thought I could be brave. I thought I was strong, but—

“Me too, Katara.”

He’s not supposed to say that! I want to scream at him to fix this. He’s the one who should be brave and strong and better than this.

I storm off and make a scene right there in the airport even though we’re supposed to be flying under the radar. Zuko doesn’t run after me, though. He always knows when I need my space. He texts me our departure information, and by the time I meet him at the gate, I’ve realized how I misdirected my anger. Voicing my apology is hard because some things we haven’t talked about, yet.

“I’m sorry I got mad and ran off,” I start with a shrug. “B-b-but I’ve been blaming you—your family for my mom’s…”

“Yon Rha,” Zuko says.

“What?”

“He’s the man who—“ He winces. “When your mother’s investigation got too deep, my father hired someone to…”

I swallow hard and nod. I can’t decide if he’s telling me this to get a reprieve from my angry outbursts or so I can have some semblance of closure on the matter. I don’t think it’ll serve either purpose, but the look on his face is an odd mixture of hopefulness and regret. Maybe I can return the favor.

“Ikem,” I say.

“Who?”

“He’s the man—“ I watch his eyes go wide then dart from side to side. “Your mother,” I add with a whisper.

We hold each other’s gaze, both knowing this conversation is too risky to have right here, right now.

I am startled by the announcement on the loudspeaker. “We are now boarding passengers for Air Appa flight 813 nonstop service to Anchorage, Alaska.”

#zutara #zutara week 2017 #zkweek #zutara week #zkweek2017

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theupstartsparty · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2: Rexias and Lahar

Spireling Ymil appeared to be in a better mood than usual when he had called Rexias and Lahar to his office that morning to give them their next task. An anonymous patron had visited that morning with an unusual request. A cave had been discovered a few miles outside of Everspring’s easternmost protectorate, and the patron had it on reliable authority that a crystal ball lay in its depths, a couple centuries old at least. The patron did not disclose the reason for the request. Once Rex soon found out what it was precisely what had gotten the crime boss’s spirits up, he understood why a reason did not matter.

“One hundred fifty gold pieces each upon returning with the objective,” the half-orc said in a smooth baritone, a rare smile curling up his lips. Rex’s ears perked, fully alert. He turned to his partner, whose normally heavily lidded chestnut eyes were open wider than he’d ever seen them, almost making the elf look awake. If that was their personal cut, how much had this patron paid the spireling for the job? He silently doubled down on his policy to never pay for artifacts.

“Anything else you find in the cave is fair game, though if there is something that could prove helpful to the Clasp, know ingratiation will get you far. I know you two are smart enough to remember what happens if you try and screw us over, so there’s no need to go over that policy. Just remember that those marks of yours are there for a reason. Any questions?” The slick half-orc barely gave them a moment to answer. “Wonderful. Be prepared to leave this afternoon,”

The spireling lazily waved them out of the office, and Rex and Lahar, knowing of his capricious and particular temperament, lost no time in making their exit out of the lava chamber the crime boss called his office. They made their way through the system of tunnels underneath the city of Everspring.

“That is a hell of a lot of gold. Not that I’m complaining, but where does he get off on choosing us for this mission?” Lahar asked, keeping his voice in a low drawl as they walked through the underground market. “I thought that Ymil had it out for you somehow,”

“I guess he’s decided six months is enough time to waste keeping me on a leash,” the tiefling responded, flicking his tail on a burlap sack of a white powder on the front of a vendor’s stall. Any objections the vendor might have had were ignored as they pushed through the crowd, keeping an eye out for pickpockets who did not respect the Clasp code.

“Perfect task for us though, huh?” the elf quipped, taking out a finely carved ivory pipe and some dried plants from a side pouch. “If we die, he gets our dumb asses off his hands. If not, he gets to buy, like, goldspun clothing or some shit,” He trailed off as he lit the pipe and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, then exhaling an opaque blue smoke cloud.

Rex smirked. “Let’s hope the handsome devil didn’t send us on a suicide quest, then. Who knows how much he was paid up front?”

He took the lead around the corner that turned down a less-travelled tunnel with Lahar close behind him. The path was empty save for a few floating will o’ wisps towards the curve of the ceiling serving to light their way, and they made their way down a few more lanes until they reached the bunkers, where they made up their packs for the weeklong trip.

The spireling had sent one of his lackeys with directions written down on a scrap of yellowed parchment. The lackey, a familiar scrawny purple-haired human they knew as René, was waiting in the outer tunnel that led into the farmlands. He looked almost envious as he handed the paper over, but sent them off just as amiably as usual.

“Once you return, I’ll be expecting that courier’s tip from you,” he said, pretending to inspect his fingernails as he judged their reactions. There was no way the spireling would have told anyone outside of the mission, but René had a way of knowing things regardless. How he had gained the trust of the spireling was a mystery to Rex and Lahar alike.

“In your dreams,” Rex grinned. The two bowed slightly to each other while each placing a closed hand over their chest in the common Everspring salutation. René picked up his torch as he walked away from the pair down the tunnel, leaving a flickering shadow that stretched and soon faded into nothing.

The ancient lava tunnel system in which the entirety of the Clasp operated existed underneath the very feet of Everspring’s population. These tunnels had been historically disputed. The earliest people of the area had once lived entirely underground, virtually unnoticed as the deities and arcanists raged in the Calamity. Once the world quieted, the settlement that would later be known as Everspring was built aboveground. Much of Everspring’s history was deeply entwined with the tunnels. However, the growing weight of the city took its toll on the tunnels, and eventually most of the system fell into disuse in the face of structural collapse. The Clasp moved in soon after the condemnation, building up what they referred to playfully as the Black Market, and had secured the tunnels (“Netherspring,” as some of them had dubbed it) for the past eighty years or so.

It was from these tunnels that the two Clasp members emerged, propping open an innocuous hatch that opened up to a flax storage barn. The harvest of the year had not yet been collected, and the barn currently housed pieces of equipment in various states of repair. No one was currently in the barn, Lahar noted, and motioned to Rex to follow him up the ladder and out of the tunnel.

The tunnel out of the city had taken them past the first hill surrounding the city. A major reason the Clasp valued their hold on Netherspring was because of this particular tunnel, which obscured their movements over land from the curious eyes of the Everspring Guard. Normally, smuggled goods (oloore root and Sannish were the most popular) were handled through ships at the Sea Port. The need occasionally rose to transport inland, and the tunnel was the best means of doing so. It also gave them the advantage against the Myriad, who had been unable to establish a firm trade in the city due to the competition. From the barn the thieves walked inconspicuously to the Shambling Path, heading east to the protectorate of Phandolin.

The countryside of Everspring crested gradually downward, showing off the rolling expanse of farmland that existed outside the walls of the city. Purple fields of flax and saffron gradually blended into the greens of wheat and grapevines, and the landscape itself seemed to ripple as breezes combed through the scenery. The late afternoon skies still recovered from last night’s rain, and a few grey clouds hung onto the otherwise clear blue canvas. The walk was perfect for tourists who would swarm the city like bees at peak season.

The fields stretched on for a few hours before the hills to the south stopped rolling and jutted sharply into sheer rock faces, a formation which was known collectively as the Virage. The hills to the north had changed from agricultural land to the forest of the Verdant Expanse. By twilight, the Virage crested low, and the untamed Mornset Countryside became visible in the distance, and as the sun dipped below the horizon Lahar suggested bedding down along the treeline for the night.

----

It had been four days on the road at this point, more than halfway to their destination. The past hour had dealt them an ill-tempered hydra, which had put them both in a bad way before Rex managed to incinerate it. Lahar’s survivalist magic had kept them alive, but to recover properly they were forced to make camp earlier than anticipated.

The campsite was minimalistic that evening as they only bothered to set up the tent and find a water source. Rations would have to do for the night; hunting and foraging was too much of an effort, and hydras were inedible much to their disappointment. Dark skies had threatened rain all day and the tension in the air alluded to something more impressive than a drizzle. The tent was pitched a few yards inside the forest, underneath a short but sturdy-looking oak at the top of a slope. They set up quickly and crawled through the canvas flaps just as the first drops began to fall.

“How’s the bite?” Rex asked his ranger companion, who had thrown himself onto his bedroll almost immediately after entering the tent.

Lahar groaned, wiggling off the rest of his armor to assess the hip wound properly. “It sucks. Nothing I won’t be able to sleep off though,”

The light pattering of rain on their tent suddenly crescendoed into a roar as the deluge hit. They decided to not attempt conversation and instead started in on their rations. The bacalhau from the Nixie Bazaar was worth the risk of being caught, Lahar firmly believed, and Rex had to admit that it beat the tasteless jerky the Clasp offered.

The black-haired tiefling took out his daggers from their scabbards. Though he had managed to get the worst of it off earlier, the blades were still caked in crusty ochre-colored blood. He took out his cleaning kit and set to work. A blue-tinted opalescent fog began to fill the tent, as if Lahar was calling upon spirits as he smoked.

Rex allowed himself a momentary glance at his former protege. The elf had joined the Clasp’s forces not six months earlier, coinciding with Rex’s own return. Spireling Ymil had assigned the new member to Rex as part of his probation, a decision that he had originally not been enthused about but soon came to appreciate. Lahar proved to have an offbeat personality that instantly clicked with the rogue, and was not lacking in any natural talent for thieving either. According to himself, he had previously taken up with a few roving bands of hunters deep in the Mornset Countryside, and had developed and honed his abilities there for many years.

As with all things dealing with the Clasp, there were a few questions that could be asked about what caused him to join. Unlike René, however, Rex never found himself needing to know everything, and never made a move to ask about Lahar’s past. To his appreciation, this favor was returned in kind, resulting in a comfortable partnership that lasted even after Lahar was branded a full-fledged Clasp member. They had been working together ever since.

The torrential downpour had subsided to a steady rainfall when Lahar spoke up, his naturally low voice raising ever so slightly to be heard over the din. “So, this artifact. Crystal balls are supposed to scry on people, yeah? How creepy is that?”

An obsidian, infinitely reaching tower flashed across Rex’s mind. “I know I’d hate that,” he answered, taking out the oil from his kit and getting to work on the leather grips.

“But Ymil said that it also-- knew things, if you asked the right questions. Do you think it’s sentient? Like, some ancient guy fucked up somewhere and trapped himself in an orb?”

“I don’t know if you’d be able to cast a spell if your soul was trapped. At least, that’s what I remember from Lucius’s books,”

Lucius was the exception to their silent agreement. A month ago, his older brother had interrupted them in the middle of a job. Furious at Rex for taking his gold before leaving Emon, he had come to collect with a vengeance. It was the first time Rex had ever fought together with Lahar, and he had been taken aback by how readily the elf had rushed to his aid. His brother, upon being defeated with two daggers and an arrow to his throat, had sardonically congratulated Rex for making a friend before disappearing into a cloud of sparks.

(“I robbed my brother and he’s not happy about it,” the rogue had said by way of explanation.)

(“He probably deserved it,” the ranger had answered. And that was it on the subject.)

“Probably not sentient then,” Lahar decided. He sat back up, wincing as he was reminded of the bite mark, and began unlacing his boots. “Do you think there’s a limit to the number of questions you can ask it? Or who can ask them?”

“I don’t know,” The tiefling finished oiling the last bits of leather on the hilt and put the newly cleaned blades back into their sheaths. He paused as he mulled the questions over in his mind.

“Maybe we should find out,” he said slowly. A slight mischievous smirk crept across his face as he turned to face his traveling companion. “Once we find it, I mean. Ask it a few questions and see what comes of it.”

Lahar took off a boot and set it aside. “I was thinking along the same lines. Might ask if you’re ever gonna be able to fuck the spireling,”

Rex flung his dingy pillow right at Lahar’s smug expression. The offending party dodged out of the way, laughing softly, and the pillow hit the canvas behind him with a dull thud. Thunder boomed from miles away, and the rain began to pick up again, sounding like gravel pouring onto a rooftop.

“I’ll take first watch,” Rex said, abruptly changing the subject. Lahar, still looking overly proud of himself, nodded and packed up his pipe and whatever recreational substance he used, then laid down faced away from the tiefling. About ten minutes later he began to levitate, signalling that the elf had started his deep trance.

The tiefling spent his watch figuring out his question for the crystal ball.

----

“Fuck! They keep coming?” Rex’s blades sung as they cut through one of the gelatinous oil slicks that had come to life not sixty feet into the cave. Where the dagger sliced a burble of ooze separated from the main body. Its actions seemed entirely autonomous and equally hostile.

They had combed the forest outside Phandolin for some time looking for the entrance to the cave. Even with their perceptive talents, the rogue and ranger had taken over an hour to locate it; the map had proven to be hastily made up and nowhere near to scale. The mouth of the cave was covered by a thick, pale green epiphytic curtain which obscured most of the daylight, plunging the cavern into semidarkness. Neither had bothered with a torch, which, in retrospect, might have helped in spotting the pitch black ooze clinging to the ceiling, waiting in ambush.

“I’m sure slicing at it isn’t helping!” Lahar shouted, rapidly nocking an arrow and turning over his shoulder to release it. The tarlike entity recoiled, rearing up and forming its amoebic body into the shape of a fist. Lahar’s ears flattened and he darted just as the wave of pitch careened into the wall behind where he had been seconds before.

“And your arrows are?” Rex retorted, shuffling backwards as the newly formed second ooze plashed forward. True, blades were proving to be detrimental, but what the fuck else could he do at the moment?

“You have fire, right? Use it!” There was that, he supposed, but he was not too keen on taking a hit from a damn ooze. Part of the slick had stealthily started enveloping the elf’s boots, and Rex ran over to his partner to sever it from the rest of the amorphous entity. Lahar plucked another arrow from his hip quiver and, muttering an arcane phrase, sent a Hail of Thorns at the ooze. The arrow glowed a sparkling green and impacted into the creature, exploding into a ring of long, nasty, thorny protrusions.

The pitchy ooze still clung to Lahar’s leg, and twisted around in a vortex of tar. He grunted and buckled slightly under the constriction. Out of the corner of his eye Rex saw a black wave headed toward them. It had been easy to avoid the sluggish attacks of the ooze. They had only stayed to deal with the gelatinous creature at present, rather than later.

“Ugh. Fine,”

The wave crashed into Rex, barreling him backwards several feet. A feral red heat surged through his veins, and he extended his arm forward and condensed the energy into a cone of flame. The force of the blast blew his unruly black hair flat against his head. When the fire of the Hellish Rebuke cleared, two piles of ash remained.

Behind him on the ground, cursing steadily, Lahar was kicking the ooze around his leg off. The slick, which had not seemed particularly strong to begin with, fell off after a mild beating, and Lahar scrambled backward, fumbling with his pack until he found his tinderbox. He took one of his arrows and set it alight, and plunged it into the ooze that had crawled its way forward. It caught fire and squirmed into ash, ending the encounter.

They got to their feet and stared deeper into the cave. Rex caught the echoes of guttural snarls coming from down the intersection to the right. His body felt like it had been run over by a draft horse.

“We should stop at Phandolin next,” he said.

“Agreed,” replied his companion.

#the upstarts #the upstarts story #dnd #dungeons and dragons #writing #taldorei campaign

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shippersark · 6 years

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Alia Bhatt on ruling the box-office, romance with Ranbir Kapoor & fighting anxiety

Zoya Akhtar jokingly calls her Paul the Octopus. Whatever film she says yes to is a bonafide hit. Whatever she says no to goes to the boondocks. Right at this moment, Alia Bhatt is everything right with Bollywood and a much-needed talent that our movies seriously lack. She will be working with S. S. Rajamouli’s next bilingual, RRR, opposite Ram Charan and Jr NTR, a dream she always nurtured. Showbiz corridors also hush-hush that the next Sanjay Leela Bhansali starrer will topline Alia. In addition to this there’s her father, Mahesh Bhatt’s Sadak, Ayan Mukerji’s Brahmastra and of course Karan Johar’s magnum opus Takht. Looks like a packed two years ahead. In between all this she’s found love in the form of Ranbir Kapoor. No sooner did the couple make it public than rumours of trouble in paradise started doing the rounds. In the same breath, there’s talk of their upcoming marriage given Ranbir’s father, Rishi Kapoor’s health. Her current release Gully Boy has seen her in top form internalising the character of Safeena, a spitfire, who rails at convention and cocks a snook at moth-eaten mores. While Abhishek Varman’s Kalank will present her in an epic avatar. It all adds up as the right time to meet my favourite sunshine girl…

What’s the best compliment you’ve received for Gully Boy? Mr Amitabh Bachchan wrote me a lovely letter after Gully Boy. This is the third note I’ve received from him. One was for Highway and the other for Udta Punjab. Both are framed and up on my wall. (Smiles) After Gully Boy, people believe I’m a little crack. They perhaps think, ‘tu thodi si pagal hai, humkomaar sakti hai’. I love the fact that the character of Safeena made such an impact. I didn’t expect this kind of response. For me it was a good film that I got for free because of Ranveer Singh. You’re like Paul the Octopus, you can foresee the right scripts. Zoya (Akhtar) also calls me Paul the Octopus. But I’ve gone wrong once. I had loved that script too. Perhaps, the execution went wrong. I choose my films as an audience. I’m a restless person. I can barely hold a conversation with a semi-boring person. So, imagine me playing a semi-boring character. Either it should scare me or be something in my space, but with a twist. Gully Boy was an alien space. How did you own it? We did workshops. Also, there’s a kind of ‘buntai’ Mumbai chick hidden within me. I began speaking like that. I felt Safeena was me. The space was alien to me. But not the emotion. People have felt those emotions but no one’s expressed that kind of rage or jealousy. Have you ever beaten up anyone? No. Never. That’s a lie I swear I’ve never had a cat fight. I don’t have that confrontational ability. I’m a chuha (mouse) type of person in real life. I have this need to please people. I don’t want people to not like me. But I do identify with that emotion, that feeling. Like Safeena says, “Ek life hai aur ek tu hai. Upar se woh ghus rahi hai beech main…” I love the dialogue that I have one life and one you. Why is she taking that away from me? That thought was so beautiful. Is your relationship with your parents (Mahesh Bhatt and Soni Razdan) a bit like that in Gully Boy? No. My parents have never raised their hand on me. Were they conservative? Definitely not. But I understand that emotion in the film where they talk about me lying. I used to lie a lot to my parents though I didn’t want to. Also, the bathroom scene with Ranveer Singh was wonderful… When Ranveer was doing the scene, I was not shooting that day. But I went on the set at 7 am to give him cues so he could feel like he was talking to me. Similarly, he came to give me cues when I shot my scene two months later. Listening to his voice helped. When an AD gives cues, it’s difficult to feel the tension. Do intense roles, like the one in Gully Boy, take a toll on you? It took a toll for sure. Kalank also took a toll on me. Because I was shooting simultaneously for Brahmastra and Gully Boy. Balancing Kalank and Brahmastra was difficult too because I hardly slept. It was demanding physically and emotionally. Kalank is my first costume drama. It would take one-and-a- half-hour to do my hair and make-up. In Kalank, I play a typical heroine but with layered intensity. I was uncomfortable shooting in heavy lehengas in the month of May at Filmcity. It was exhausting and I feared messing up. I wanted the conviction to come across. I’m scared because it’s something away from what I’ve done before. But your roles have always been edgy and challenging… Kalank is not edgy, it’s an Indian world but with intensity. It’s an epic drama. Ranveer Singh and Ranbir Kapor – how different are they as co-stars? They’re both different as actors. When Ranveer is excited, it’s visible. When his preparation is on, you’re aware of his focus, his energy… You can see he’s getting into his shot. But with Ranbir, I wouldn’t know what he’s thinking. He could be thinking of butter chicken yet he’d be giving a shot. That’s the way he is. So Ranveer has more technique? I don’t know about technique. But his process is more visible. I don’t think Ranbir has a process. He’s just gifted, he just comes and does. There’s no thought. But both are ‘chill’ on the set. You seem to have become like the female Ranbir Kapoor having developed an air of detachment… I’ve always been like that. It has nothing to do with Ranbir. People keep saying Ranbir and I are so similar. I don’t think he’s detached. We don’t have or rather I don’t have the ability to pretend. So, if I’m interested, I’m interested. Also by default, my face wears a perpetual frown. I could be feeling ecstatic. But you wouldn’t know that because I’ve got this frown on my face. So, it’s not because of Ranbir. I’ve always been this way. Of late, there’s just so much going on in my mind, it’s not a good thing. I’m not present in the moment. I’m constantly flying somewhere else. Ranbir is not like that. He’s quite the opposite. The best advice on life, work or relationships that Ranbir has given you… I stress about things that are not in my control. I’m an over thinker. I get anxious. There was a period when I was working hard and I was stressed. Ranbir told me if you’re working hard, you need not worry about anything else. Do the best you can and just let everything else be. That helped me. I still stress but it’s easier for me to now let it be. The maximum I can do is put in my 100 per cent. I don’t need to worry about the results. Are you a chronic worrier? Ya, but I’ve calmed down of late. I guess it happened this year. What brings you anxiety? I want my films to do well. But that’s not my biggest stress and fear. I get stressed if my friend is stressed about something. Say, if something is bothering Ayan (Mukerji) or Abhishek (Varman), it stresses me. Or if I have many things to do and I’m unable to do everything, it stresses me. I have bouts of anxiety every now and then. But I’ve found a way to move around it. You know you will feel low. But that only makes the high feel better. Other than your movies, what else gives you a high? Your relationship? No ya. What’s giving me a big high right now is my relationship with myself. It’s another level of connection and a feeling of growing up that I’m experiencing right now. I’ve turned 26 a few days back. I’ve become sensitive to my environment. If I feel an environment will be too frantic for me, then I don’t go out. I sit in my room, I stay with myself, I watch something, I read a book… I’m so passionate right now that I’m getting scared. I’m so passionate that I’m also getting excited. How do you keep calm? You’ve got to constantly tell yourself to calm down. The possibility of the future is so immense, it’s like being a kid in candy land. At the same time, you don’t want to get lost and be separated from your family and friends. So, it’s important for me to stay grounded. And also, remain focussed on my work and normal life. Of course, just seeing your efforts flower and the efforts of your friends’ flower – for example, when we launched the logo of Brahmastra in the sky, I got so emotional. We’ve been talking about this film for so many years and now t’s a reality. It’s such an ambitious film. There was a point when I felt like ki kuch hoga hi nahi. I’ve lived with Abhishek on Kalank too. Karan (Johar) had mentioned this one line about the film during Student Of The Year. It was a film he wanted to make and then it went on to Abhishek. So, the journey seems unreal. Do you get time to nurture your relationship with yourself? I do take that time.Even if I’m tired after a shoot, I don’t come and hit the bed immediately. I listen to music, I reflect, I read… I like waking up early in the morning so I can glance through the newspaper. I gather all my thoughts, answer messages, speak to people as to what I can do more creatively. I think about my characters. I reflect on the day’s work. I wasn’t getting this ‘reflection’ time in the middle of last year. I just kept shooting. I began to feel like a robot. That’s when I started suffering from anxiety. My days are still hectic but I’m giving time to myself. Did it take a toll on your health? Ya, more than anything it affected my mental health. Thankfully, I didn’t fall ill. But I was just so annoyed and sleep deprived. How do you work then? Have you ever faced a situation where you felt the need to see a counsellor? Ya, I have. I haven’t been depressed but I’ve had bouts of anxiety. It comes and goes. It’s been happening quite a bit since the past five to six months. It’s not like an anxiety attack but I just feel low. Thankfully, I’m aware of it because of my sister (Shaheen Bhatt). She’s fought depression. I’ve read her book. No matter how bad it is,I just let myself feel it. Sometimes, I feel like crying for no reason. Then it passes. Initially, I’d be a little confused. I’d constantly give reasons that it’s because of work or maybe I’m tired or haven’t been able to meet anyone... The kind of personality I have, I become a little on the edge. I spoke to friends about it. I spoke to Ayan about it, I spoke to my sister’s friend Rohan (Joshi). Everyone told me that you’ve got to realise that it will go away. What’s important is to accept it and not say that you’re fine. If you’re not feeling fine, then you should just say you’re not feeling fine. Why didn’t you seek professional help then? I wanted to but it’s not obviously reached that place where I’m desperate to speak to someone. So, I guess I’m fine. We’re privileged to be in this business and to be living this life. But a tiredness can seep in and make you feel low. There could be a scientific explanation for it as well. But I’m not shy or scared to accept that I’m feeling low. I just have to let it pass. But the time when it’s there, it’s a bit weird. I don’t know how to explain that. What about social anxiety? Yes, I do experience social anxiety. If I’m sitting in a group of 10 to 15 people, who I’m connected to, I’m fine. But if I go for a party or a wedding, I go wild because I don’t know what to talk to people. I can’t make small talk. Hello ke baad mein kya bolun. Then I become fake. People who know me say why are you going weird. Do you feel judged? No. Maybe, I’m not judged. Do you worry because you’re a people pleaser? I’m not a people pleaser. I just want people to like me. I don’t want to upset anyone in my life. I want to be a person, who’s loved by everyone. One and all. The gossip is you’re getting married within a year. That in April your parents are doing a roka. The only ‘Roka’ I’m going to is the restaurant in London. There’s no roka happening for me. And why are you putting a year to my marriage? Okay, how do you tackle someone as difficult as Ranbir Kapoor? He’s not difficult. He’s a gem. But he’s had a troubled past… How does it matter?It’s part of someone’s life and who cares. Aur main thodi na kam hoon. So, when did you decide that this was the guy? When I met him for the first time in my life. Again, let me tell you he’s not difficult. He’s a supremely simple person. He’s such a nice human being that I wish I was as good as him. As an actor, as a person, as everything. He’s way better a person thanI am. And about getting married? Well, that’s the only thing that’s irritating right now. Every morning I wake up to the news that I’m getting married. I tell him what the hell. I guess he’s used to it. Do you believe some rival actress started the rumour? I hope no one is rivalling with me. Marriage is not even in my bandwidth. There’s too much happening in terms of work and life. I’m not saying that I can’t be married and work as well. But I’m really too young. I’ve no plans of getting married right now. That’s it. It has to wait. The rumours probably began when you were seen by Ranbir’s side in New York, where his dad Rishi Kapoor is undergoing treatment… Ya. I hope it’s coming from a nice place, where people are actually excited about it. That’s why I let it be. I’m not offended or angry at all. Getting married is a trend right now but this is one trend I’m not following. Is being in this relationship tough compared to your previous ones? No. It’s not a relationship. It’s a friendship. I’m saying this with all genuineness and honesty. It’s beautiful. I’m walking on stars and clouds right now. The best part is that we’re two individuals, who are living our own professional lives in its full form right now. He’s shooting continuously. So am I. It’s not a situation where you’ll see us constantly together. That’s the true mark of a comfortable relationship. Nazar na lage. In fact, there’s a beautiful book titled My Brilliant Friend. Ranbir’s my brilliant friend. Credits: Filmfare Read the full article

#AliaBhattopensupaboutherbattlewithanxiety #AliaBhattrevealssheisbattlingwithanxietybouts

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paulsebert · 7 years

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Secret Empire #0 Thoughts (Spoilers)

Previously: The Red Skull used Korbik (a sentient cosmic cube that sometimes takes a child's form) to turn Captain America into a bad guy. Captain America is now a loyal agent of Hydra an evil organization that is sometimes Nazi affiliated and sometimes not depending on who is writing. Captain America planned a bunch of bad stuff behind everyone's back. Captain America turned on his evil master. Red Skull desperate to make Cap stop admitted that Captain America that his new history (that we saw in extensive flashbacks over many issues) was all lies he made up. Captain America doesn't care because he's EEEEVIL! He kills Red Skull and sets out to take over the world... his way! This took 15 fricking issues to get to. Meanwhile we learned that Nick Spencer should really stay off twitter.

Notes: Despite the bad reaction Spencer's Cap run has gotten I'm actually a fan of most of Nick Spencer's work. Superior Foes of Spider-Man is of one the best comics of the last decade and the The Fix is hilarious. His run on the two Captain America runs are really mixed bags. The first two arcs of “Captain America: Sam Wilson” are really good but Spencer struggled trying to deal with real life politics in the later issues. As for the eeeeeevil Captain America book well... it's better than painful fever dream of Rick Remender's Captain America book. I'm going to try to be fair and optimistic going into this one.

Our story opens with a World War II flashback in of Hydra Cap in the mountains of Japan meeting with Kraken an obscure villain from Jonathan Hickman's Secret Warriors. Hydra's secret base looks like the Legends of the Hidden Temple set. Kraken tells Captain America that the Allie will use the Cosmic Cube (not Korbik but another one) to change reality so that Hydra doesn't take over the world. He says they're going to change his memories and no matter what he must not forget he's a Hydra Agent. Of course we know all of these new World War II memories are bullshit so... they're either illusions or maybe Kraken was manipulating Steve the whole time or... uuuugh. I am three pages in and I have a headache!

We now have a flow chart of characters. I know Secret War did the same thing but... hoo-boy. That's a bad sign.

We cut to modern day. Cap is at S.H.I.E.L.D command with Sharon Carter. We learn that a Chitari (those aliens from the first Avengers movie) invasion is headed towards Earth. But the Planetary Defense shield is down. Wasn't there a whole other organization called S.W.O.R.D that handled this? Where is Abigail Brand?

We see the Guardians of the Galaxy and The Ultimates fighting aliens in space. I am wondering why most of the focus isn't on this and is instead on S.H.I.E.L.D HQ? Daniel Acuña draws pretty fight scenes. Let him do that!

Meanwhile a boatload of supervillians lead by Gravitron are attacking New York and the Defenders are fighting them. Unfortunately more of the focus is on S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. So we’re mostly watching EVIL Cap and Sharon watching all the action.

Meanwhile Hydra has invaded the country of Sokovia the country that Ultron completely destroyed back in Kurt Busiek's run. I know it’s played a role in Specer’s run but shouldn't it just be all empty space and dead Ultron drones now?

The narrator is REALLY going out of his way to tell us what a brilliant strategist Hydra Cap is and how all of these couldn't have happened by coincidence. It's sort of like how every three pages in Avengers Arena someone says “gee Arcade is really a clever villain now. He sure thought of everything.”

Back in space Quasar is eaten by a space whale. I should be upset at the apparent death of a new superhero but like... this HAS to be a set-up for her to punch her way out of the belly of a space whale an issue or two later. Right? I mean why would you waste an opportunity for an awesome action scene?

I just realized that Hydra Cap planning his scheme while the heavy hitters are in space is a LOT like the plot of Infinity. Also the whole novelty of an EVIL Captain America story would have been a lot more at home in Axis. Remember how Tony Stark was eeeeeevil for a year and no one cared?

Now Nitro shows up while the Defenders are fighting and Jessica Jones throws him high into the air while he triggers an explosion that looks like a homage to the opening of Civil War. This comic is turning into a greatest hits album of other comic crossovers.

The Secretary of Defense gives Captain America full control over the U.S. Military and Law Enforcement thanks to a new act of congress so everything bad from here on out is caused by an ill conceived piece of legislation... just like Civil War!

The defense shield is turned on locking aliens out and the Defenders get backup from the Uncanny Avengers. Things are looking up for the heroes.

Suddenly a heli-carrier crashes into S.H.I.E.L.D HQ and a bunch Hydra mooks show up. Only the S.H.I.E.L.D guards aren't fighting back because Dr Faustus is brainwashing everyone. I should have mentioned before this whole mess started that the Red Skull had psychic mindscrew powers and dude whose sole power was brainwashing people working for him. If you really wanted to do a Captain America is EVIL story the whole cosmic cube and prolonged elaborate false history flashbacks are kind of superfluous.

Captain America orders the Hydra Guards and the mind controlled S.H.I.E.L.D guys to take Sharon Carter prisoner. Sharon is not under Faustus' control despite the fact that if I had a drink for the number of stories where Sharon Carter was mind controlled I'd be drunk. Sharon thinks Cap is being controlled by Faustus but...

youtube

A Hydra guy is just standing there and has this slackjawed look like “I can't believe this shit.” I'm going to pretend he's Bob from Deadpool. Bob's presence is the most entertaining thing about this book so far.

I could be reading “The Button” right now. That comic has Batman fighting Professor Zoom AND Flash fighting Samurai Robots... Samurai Robots! And it doesn't have walls and walls of exposition text...

Iron Men Riri Williams and Force Ghost Tony Stark (it's a long story) discover someone has sabotaged the planetary defense shield and Hydra guys attack them. Just as it looks like we're going to get a good fight it cuts away.

On Space Skype Captain America reveals to Captain Marvel that wave after wave of Chitari are coming and he's keeping them walled off outside with fierce alien warriors to their doom. Cue Cliffhanger #1.

Tony Stark and Riri Williams just beat up all the Hydra Guys OFF CAMERA! We've got like a bazillion action scenes going on and NONE of them are given any time to breath under these unending walls of exposition text.

Hey it's HELMUT ZEMO! Which Zemo is it... the morally complex anti-villian/anti-hero from Thunderbolts? Is it the Cobra Commander-esc idiot from Avengers Undercover? A combination of the two? I don't know because he has all of three panels in this issue.

Zemo and a guy named Blackout (not the Ghost Rider Villian) have stolen the book of Darkhold. Does anyone remember Darkhold: Pages from the Book of Sins? It was like this early 90s quasi-horror comic about this cursed book whose pages granted evil monkey paw wishes and the people who made those wishes usually turned into monsters. Plus there was an evil dwarf. Like that you should be revamping that into something so if you wanted Peter Dinklage to be a villain in a Marvel movie. Oh and there were people called The Darkhold Redeemers who were trying to stop the Dwarf and one of them was a lesbian and this was like long before LGTB representation was anywhere near common in comics. Dude I want a Darkhold Redeemers comic.

So Zemo and an obscure Avengers villian named Blackout (who looks like the poor man's Electro) use the Darkhold to banish New York City isolating it under a Dark Force dimension dome. It's like when the Hand sealed off Hell's Kitchen in Shadowland but bigger. ANOTHER crossover callback. Cliffhanger #2.

Tony deducts that the next target of attack is going to be Washington DC he calls for The Avengers (several teams worth), The Champions, and Spider-Man (who I guess wasn't in New York.) We get some big epic hero arrival poses that would look great if they weren't crammed into TINY... TINY panels.

Back in Washington an army of Hydra Helicarriers loom ominously over the White House. Hey do you remember the C-Plot from Fear Itself. When Skadi's Army attacked Washington but no-one cared because the rest of the book was about fighting monsters with Evil Thor Hammers? ANOTHER CALLBACK!

This the B-side of a Marvel Comics Crossovers Greatest Hits Album. Side A is about 70% tracks from Secret War, the Worthy stuff from Fear Itself and a trio of tracks from Civil War, Secret Invasion, and House of M. that were popular at the time but doesn't hold up.

The nicest thing I can say about this comic is that Daniel Acuña's art is really good and if anything this is one of the best looking bad comics I've ever read.

Despite the involvement of Hydra and the 40s flashback EVIL Cap doesn't really come across as a Nazi at all and just a generic “take over the world” badguy. On one hand that kind of seems to be Marvel backing away from the obvious “Cap is a Nazi” angle that was making people uncomfortable and angry and yet on the other hand it's also backing away from the “America is more messed up than we thought” allegory that could actually make a point this time. Spencer isn't the guy to be doing that kind of project though. Not sure who I could see doing that and making such a gut punch work. Grant Morrison or Kyle Baker maybe?

If this is any indication it's going to be a loooooong six months. Maybe I should be polishing off my “Rikki Barnes: The Winter Soldier” pitch.

#Secret Empire #Marvel Comics #Captain America #HydraCap #Nick Spencer #Daniel Acuna #Every Crossover Ever #This Comic Is Bad And You Should Feel Bad #Spoilers #Wednesday Spoilers

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elsewhereuniversity · 8 years

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On Time and the Perception Thereof

I’m a senior, and if everything had gone to plan I’d be graduating in a few months. Things didn’t go to plan.

I started college at a different school, just an ordinary girl with a bright future. I did well in my classes, fought a little with my parents, got drunk for the first time when someone spiked the punch at a Christmas party. There were only a few things that made me unique: a talent for prose and poetry, a kind word for everyone, even the loathed squirrels on that campus, and a body and mind that liked to fail me.

That last piece is why I’m here—and why I’ll never leave.

My last school didn’t have any dealings with Them…but we did have ghosts. Some kind, some not-so-kind, some that were just there. Like many colleges, we had a lot of students attempt suicide. Some succeeded. Others, like me, did not.

I found out my childhood had left me with PTSD when I had a panic attack in the middle of the night and had to go to the hospital. That was one of the nights I’d felt like I was being watched. It wasn’t the last.

Within the month, I felt followed—observed—constantly. I couldn’t eat. Oh, I tried, but I gave up when it all came back up again. I couldn’t sleep except in daylight. I missed class, and all I did seemed to drive me further into despair.

On an afternoon in February, I woke up to find that I’d missed yet another class. My parents called, and they said I couldn’t miss any more. I felt something pressing into my head, something far darker than anything inside of me. I reached for the bottle of sedatives I’d been prescribed for the panic attacks.

I changed my mind at the last minute, my fear of myself breaking through whatever compulsion I’d felt. I called my parents instead.

After four days in a psychiatric ward, I went home on medical leave. I wanted to return to my school, but I was too afraid to reapply. Something didn’t want me there.

When my year of leave was up, I applied to Elsewhere University. See, I had an idea of what I was getting into—the traditions people talked about online were a sign that someone with my knowledge of folklore couldn’t ignore—but I felt myself called here. I thought my knowledge came from books and stories, but I was wrong.

Very wrong.

What I have…it isn’t the Sight, I’m not that unfortunate. I just…Know things sometimes. I’ve had dreams for years, ones that always come true. I speak in languages I don’t know, not really, but somehow the words feel right. I feel watched—and I’ve never been able to tell if it’s the hyper-vigilance or something more. And I remember everything.

But the worst part isn’t the awareness of things I shouldn’t be aware of…it’s the way it combines with my disorders.

Ever since that first panic attack, my awareness of time has been a little…off. I hate driving because I can spend the whole trip feeling as though real life is just a dream. I start a task, and look up to find that six hours have passed while I just stared at a blank page, trying to write an essay and feeling as though it’s only been minutes, save for the rumbling in my stomach and the dizziness of dehydration. Other times, when I feel as though everything is a danger, and every passerby a foe, a handful of minutes stretch into hours.

And then there are the flashbacks.

Most of the time, I know where I am, that it’s only a memory…but sometimes I don’t. Sometimes, the memory is what’s real to me.

And that’s how I got into trouble.

I’ve always been careful to follow the Rules, see, because I know my interest in writing makes me vulnerable. I never use my real name; I don’t share my writing with anyone. I’m polite to everyone, and make sure I’m never the recipient of debts or a debtor myself. Most people here don’t even know I write. I stuck with my original major when I transferred—political science—so I didn’t initially incur any interest from Them.

In my second-to-last semester, that changed, drastically. I took a class on Arthurian Legend—it seemed like it would be fun, and I felt that calling again—and made the mistake of giving a presentation on Avalon.

Well, it wasn’t the presentation that was the mistake, exactly, it was how much I got right.

See, I understand in-between places. It’s part of my nature—I was born in that strange time of year between Samhain and the Solstice, when the world’s a bit thin and blurry around the edges. I’ve always had the feeling of being separate but still a part of humanity, partly because of how often I’m ill, but also because I was always just a bit too different for most people to enjoy being around.

Combined with the fact that I am essentially a living liminal space, caught between the past that haunts me and the future I am constantly anticipating with terror—let’s just say that the idea of Avalon, a place grounded in a real location but a gateway into Elsewhere…it appeals to me, calls to me, and I recognize myself in it.

I guess a little too much of that recognition came through in my presentation, because suddenly, I kept encountering Them everywhere.

A girl with a smile a little too sharp to be human walked beside me in silence to every class for a week.

A flock of magpies that didn’t exactly have feathers, just blurs that could be feathers, gathered around my lunch table once a fortnight for the next two months, never begging for bread but just watching me. There were seven of them, always seven, never more or less.

I never went near the pool, but I kept finding lost flip-flops, still wet and always the left one of a pair, in front of my door every morning. I left out a bowl of whipped cream for each one I found, and quietly asked around to see if the shoes belonged to anyone. No one had ever seen them before. I kept them in my closet and pretended not to hear the dripping of water on the wooden frame of my door every night.

Then, one day, I had a flashback walking to class. It was nothing major, just a glimpse of a childhood humiliation, but it was one of the dissociative ones. I think I must have said something, though I don’t remember what, because the next thing I knew, the girl with the too-sharp smile had hold of my arm and was pulling me to sit beside her in the grass. I was still pretty out of it, because otherwise I never would have done what I did next.

I thanked her.

Stupid, I know, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at the time.

Her smile somehow got more sharp. When she spoke, it wasn’t in English, though somehow I understood her. She wanted something very specific in return.

I couldn’t refuse.

So now, I can’t leave the campus. That was part of the deal I didn’t mean to make—that I would stay…and act as an intermediary of sorts, or an interpreter if you look at it another way. It’s not that bad, really, but I just can’t get used to the way I step in and out of my world and Theirs. I missed a week of classes because I stepped through and couldn’t figure out how to get back without slipping through the time-stream.

The administration isn’t happy about it, but they’ve offered me a position. Technically, I’ll be part of Residential Life, but my purpose isn’t exactly laid out. See, the bargain was only that I’d lend Them my voice and hands (thankfully still attached to me—I still had enough presence of mind for that) when They need to communicate in ways humans will understand…anytime they need to communicate. And time, well, it isn’t exactly linear.

Now I’m not just off in my awareness of time—I’m sliding between eras at Their whim. I guess this explains why that photograph I found in the archives looks so much like me. I’m sure I’ll get around to being in the Admissions office in 1879 sooner or later.

After all, I now have all the time in the world.

So, this is my contribution to the whole dissociation thread…I hope you enjoy it…

[x]

#theperidotshade #stories #suicide #dissasociation #i am a living liminal space #is such a fantastic phrase #submission

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