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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

i’m absolutely living for Faust and Faith!!! more soon pls 🥺

I had some free time and the urge to clean out some of the centuries-old asks fermenting in my inbox. So, I wrote this horny lil' scene for the Faust freaks out there. I hope you enjoy it! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Warning: 18+ smut, mature language, anti-religious themes. Mostly just smut and a bit of butt-stuff in this one.

Summary: After Faust quits his band, Faith follows him through an unfamiliar city and they find a motel to stay the night.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Faith followed Faust through the misty city limits. The dark man navigated the streets sure-footedly, boots planing through puddles that she skirted. She had no idea where they were or where they were heading, and the time to ask had long since passed. Faust had been fuming for the first hour of their trek, pulling beers from his pockets, draining them, smashing the bottles on the sidewalk and cursing up ahead while Faith hurried her legs to keep up. Finally, when they came to a glowing fast food joint on a dead quiet street, Faith latched onto his elbow and slowed him to a halt.

"What are we doing? Do you know where we are?"

Faust pointed at the golden arches. "Yeah, McDonald's."

"No, like, in general. Where are we going, Faust? It's getting really late."

"Getting food and finding the nearest motel," said Faust. He pulled cash out of his pocket and waved it at her face—the money he had taken from the band's merch box.

"A motel?" Faith gasped.

Faust looked her up and down with his severe green eyes and cocked a smirk as he pulled the glass door open. "Let me guess... The thought of motel sex gets you going?"

"Who doesn't want to bang in a sketchy motel?"

"Most people? Because it's kinda gross."

The smell of grease replaced the fog-thick air, and Faith sprang forward to gawk at the jungle gym enclosed in the center of the restaurant. It was closed to the public overnight, but that didn't stop Faith from envisioning launching into the ball pit and crawling through the plastic tunnels like a human hamster.

They ordered food to go and set off to find the nearest motel, where Faust spent most of his cash to obtain a keycard good for one night in room 124 of the Neptune Inn. The clerk was used to such haphazard transactions and accepted the bills without a fuss. With minimal cars in the lot and the plaza's pallid look of disrepair, the motel seemed the right place for an evening of carelessness. There was nobody to witness how they lived together, squirting ketchup packets onto burger wrappers and wiping sauce from their lips with wads of brown napkins. After stuffing their mouths full of fries and discussing a game plan for the following day that tanked, Faith cleared away their mess and turned on the antiquated stereo. One of her favourite songs came through the static, and she gasped to hear the familiar lyrics crackling over the speakers.

Faust watched her bop her hips from side to side, the hem of her skirt blooming around her as she mouthed the words at him.

"Sorry, I know it's not your style, but I just love Fleetwood Mac."

He watched her close her eyes and feel the music filling the room. If it had been anyone else singing along to radio classics, he'd have stomped over to the stereo and made sure it never worked again. But it was Faith, and every time she swayed or twirled, her skirt would lift, and he glimpsed her panties.

The beers urged him to mutter about the fallout with his band, just as his aching muscles begged for slumber. On any other night, he would have fallen asleep with thoughts of fire and the phantom scent of gasoline stinging his nose. Those memories were surpassed by the woman in the room with him. Faith eclipsed his anger with her lively performance, and he reached his hand out toward her until she came.

Faust was hard already, and painfully so as she climbed over his lap and kissed him. Nestled between their groins, his erection pulsed, each beat dulling him to everything but her body pressed against his. Faust made her turn around to straddle him, stretched his arm to grab the television remote and instructed her to put something on. Faith cycled the channels, confused by the position, while he guided her onto her stomach so she laid between his legs, her pelvis propped on his, ass in the air. He pulled back her skirt and went watery in the mouth when he saw the scant material shielding her holes from view.

"What am I supposed to put on?" She asked.

"Don't care."

The people on the screen proved no distraction to Faust as his eyes traversed the seams of her underwear. The cotton stuck to her, smelled like her, and contained the slit he so badly wanted to slip inside. He had to wait. If he took her too soon, the night would be over, and he had many thoughts and more to chase away.

Faith twisted around to watch as he stroked the pad of his thumb over her clothed crotch. He shook his head and motioned for her to face the TV where reruns of Seinfeld played. Faith didn't care for the programming. The men on the screen detracted from the sensation Faust inflicted between her legs. She scooped her hips and dragged herself over the bulge in his jeans. ignoring the sitcom. Faust fluttered his lashes and let her do it a few more times until he stopped her with a large hand on her back.

"I want your pussy very wet for me," said Faust.

Faith giggled and arched her spine until his fingers met the moist cotton once more. He rubbed her through the fabric, delighting at the sight of it stretching and revealing the outline of her cunt.

She flicked through a few more channels until a flash of skin caught her eye. There was an entire naked torso on the screen, complete with bouncing breasts and torn fishnet. Faith's blood ran hot as the camera panned higher and showed a man gripping a woman's neck, his slackened face hanging over her shoulder while his other hand squeezed her nipples. The radio DJ's voice combined with the woman's moaning created a chaotic din in which Faust's soft breaths faded.

Satisfied with her choice of TV channel, she tossed the remote aside and relaxed into the mattress to enjoy more of Faust's teasing fingers.

"Oh, that's what I fucking like," he murmured. Faust plucked the elastic seam of her panties, tucked into the stitching with his fingers and shredded a hole large enough for him to work through. She gasped at the sound and briefly lamented her only pair of underwear before Faust whisked her worries away with curious digits prodding at warm, sensitive spots.

"Mm, oh fuck. Look at that," Faust spoke as if presenting her to someone behind him. "Beautiful little holes all for me."

Faust stretched open the hole in her undergarments and spanked her hard enough she whimpered. He smothered the sting with his palm, rubbing her ass cheek where he'd laid a hot imprint of his four fingers. Soon, his thumb travelled elsewhere, and her thighs attempted to close.

Faust chuckled. "Keep those legs open. Yeah, stay just like that while I play with you. Rub that little asshole."

The whole bed rocked as he lifted her hips and bent his knees to prop her up closer to his face. He spread her open and ran his tongue from hole to hole, moaning on the slow journey to make sure she felt what was coming. Faith wondered what he tasted; if he meant to slide his tongue between her cheeks so directly. The feeling was curious, yet not without pleasure. Her nerves didn't sing like they did when he directed his attention to her clit, but the sounds of him humming sounded better than the sex on TV.

The scene playing on the wall opposite the queen-sized bed changed. The woman had bent over the sofa's arm, her partner squatting behind with teeth clamping the meat of her thighs and bottom. Faust buried his face as far as he could, and when that wasn't enough, squeezed her cheeks together like he meant to suffocate himself.

Faust switched her around, so she was no longer laying with her head at the foot of the bed. They were side by side while he worked his jeans off and yanked her top up over her breasts.

"I need to fuck you. I need inside that pussy right now," Faust growled. "You ready? Can you take it all for me, baby? Every fucking inch?"

No amount of practice prepared Faith for the first minute of Faust entering her. From behind, his member pressed all the right spots, slid over her G-spot and languished in the plush heat while he anchored her leg up. In this prime position that allowed Faust to see everything, he gave her a few breaths to get used to the stretch. Faith was already whimpering, and each sound of desperation pinched his heart.

"I'm sorry it's so big," he whispered. "I hate making you hurt."

"It feels good," she assured.

"Oh, don't I know it," Faust replied.

"And you don't have to say sorry. I love that big, uncut cock. Love it when you ruin me."

The radio went to fuzz, and the porno cut to a commercial for whitening toothpaste. Faust slipped out and went to turn off the electronics. The night went quiet again until his weight bore down on the tired mattress springs, and he nestled back into the warmth he had briefly lost. Faust brought his lips to her ear, one arm under her leg and the other threading between her neck and the pillow so he could clutch one breast. He wasted no time picking up where he had left off and let out another moan that tickled Faith's spine.

"I love you, baby. Fuck... I never wanna be away from you that long ever again."

Faith ignored the mass pumping inside of her. After Faust quit his band and left them outside of the venue, she had wondered what his aspirations for the future were. Could it be that he had had enough touring and figured he rather stay with her than travel in a cramped bus, arguing with his bandmates and living like a slob? It seemed too ideal to hold water. Music was his life, and she was only the close second. But as he moved against her and nuzzled his face into her hair, her hope for them grew.

Maybe in the morning, they could discuss the future. For now, Faith treasured every whispered declaration of his love, beer-scented as these oaths were, and let Faust lose himself in something born of pure desire.

#faust x faith #valter skarsgard imagine #valter skarsgard fanfiction

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5lazarus · 3 years

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So Much Lore! So Much Information!

Dorian has a wonderful conversation with the Skyhold Librarian about improvements to the library's filing system and the innovations coming out of Minrathous when Vivienne comes by and points out he's just talking to himself. He's been waxing rhapsodic about the Tevinter equivalent of the Dewey decimal system to a spirit--or maybe a demon.

So clearly they must investigate. The first time I played DAI, the Librarian didn't spawn! He was quite a surprise during my second playthrough--so I got to thinking, what if he were a spirit? And what sort of spirit would he be?

The song Dorian hears in the brothel, that Solas sings, is one of the most beautiful love songs I've ever heard-- "Lamma Bada Yatathanna," which was composed in Al-Andalus. Here's my favorite version. The other song he sings to himself as he paints is a poem by Tolkien. I like this arrangement! There's a background story in those songs, if you check out the lyrics. ;) Read on Archive of Our Own here.

Dorian’s having a wonderful conversation with the new librarian in the Skyhold library about proper filing systems, and he’s really starting to have faith in the Inquisition’s ability to pull together an organization actually organized to take on Corypheus and the Tevinter elite. He’s telling him about the latest innovation of folding actual waves of sound into crystals in Minrathous when Vivienne saunters by.

“Darling, shush,” she says as she goes. “We must have quiet in the library, and you’re scaring our guests, talking to yourself.”

Dorian reddens. “I am not monologuing!” he protests. “We’re having a conversation, aren’t we, er—“ He realizes he hasn’t actually asked for the librarian’s name, but he turns to him for back-up anyway. He’ll ignore the misstep, Dorian is so pretty, he can carry this away.

But there is no one there.

Vivienne says very calmly, “Did you think you were speaking to someone?”

Dorian says, “I’m not twelve, it wasn’t a demon. He was just right there!”

She says, “Oh, what do they teach you in Minrathous?”

“I know how to recognize a demon, Madame,” he snaps. “There was no demon. Just a librarian. He was telling me about how Skyhold originally used the old dwarven system of classification and how they were adapting that with the Orlesian système de dépôt to better accommodate all the many superfluous copies we have of Genitivi—“

“Then it was a pride demon,” Vivienne muses, “or envy. With the way it accumulates knowledge and drew you out…”

“Oh come now, Vivienne.” Dorian throws his head back and crosses his arms. He knows a demon when he sees it. While he’s never been particularly interested in blood magic, the magisterium does tend to throw corrupted spirits in his face. He has gotten very good at defining when their reality is importuned by creatures wanted to eat his flesh and ravage his soul. “He was a bit shorter than me, elf, with a long nose but kind-of bulbous at the end. Long hair, he didn’t quite know how to style it. Lank. But everyone here needs a wash. Wore blue enchanter’s robes edged with gold. It was quite garish, really. You’d think a pride demon would have better taste than that.”

Vivienne says, “The rebel mages no longer wear the outfits of the Circle. Haven’t you seen their military uniform? This wasn’t human, Dorian. When was the first time you saw it? There are children who come to this library, and with so few templars about, we cannot risk—“

Dorian puts up his hands. “But I’ve seen other people talking to him,” he protests.

Vivienne narrows her eyes. “That makes it more dangerous, darling. We must track it down to its source.”

He’s getting irritated now. The rotunda is full of mages. Someone would have noticed if a pride demon were running rampant through Skyhold, if not himself, then Fiona, or even Solas, who seems to specialize in weird relationships with spirits. Then he grins. Solas has his work station near the stairs, where he can see all that come and go.

He says, “Let’s ask Solas if he’s seen him. If Solas hasn’t, then I’ll cede the point.”

Vivienne grimaces. She has made no secret of her disdain for the apostate hobo, both of his research methodology and his fashion. Dorian does so love to see them both get catty, so he grins and gestures in an Orlesian curtsey for Vivienne to lead the way down the stairs. She gathers her skirts and descends; he follows.

The lowest level of the rotunda smells of plaster, charcoal, and wet paint. Solas is painting again, moving rapidly to fill in the first layer of background details on his still-wet fresco. He is singing to himself as he moves, his brushstrokes keeping time. Dorian frowns. He recognizes the melody, but from where? Then he pulls at his mustache in his surprise as he remembers: one of the elvhen whores at his favorite brothel in Minrathous got all the boys singing it, it was a love song, an ancient one, that even the slaves still remembered. His gift of the night had translated it for him: “Oh, my destiny, my perplexity! No one can comfort me in my misery….” Then of course the man had taken hold of him and relieved him of said suffering, and it was a quite enjoyable night, even though the song as a come-on was a bit too obvious. Dorian pushes away the memory and wonders how Solas knows an old Tevinter elven song—but of course if confronted, Solas would merely shrug and say he heard it in the Fade, once.

At the end of the song the first level is finished. Solas takes his brushes and his palette and climbs down to the second level. He is humming as he goes.

Vivienne clears her throat. Solas sets down his paints.

“What do you need?” he asks. “This paint dries quickly.”

Dorian says, “Why Solas, I didn’t know you had such a lovely voice. Was that a love song I detected? I think I’ve heard it before—in Tevinter.” He does not add that he heard it in a brothel. Why ruin such a lovely memory?

Solas repeats, “This paint dries quickly, and if I delay much longer I will have to chip away the plaster and begin again. What do you need?”

Vivienne and Dorian exchange a glance. It is definitely a love song, but that is not relevant to their quest, and the paintings in the rotunda are quite impressively monumental. Josephine will be upset if they ruin it.

Vivienne, ever practical, cuts in, “Have you noticed a spirit upstairs, in the library?”

Solas says, “Do you mean the librarian? Yes. He has quite a wonder for filing systems. What about him, Vivienne? Have you drawn him into conversation and found him a demon of Envy?” Dorian, awkward, shifts—he’d spent at least an hour discussing the Minrathous Circle’s new filing system with him, and hadn’t even realized he wasn’t quite real. Solas catches the movement and smiles suddenly at him. “Do not worry, Dorian. He is a very old and precious spirit, and it is a compliment that he was drawn to you beyond your—finery.” He turns to Vivienne. “Well? Is there anything that you need?”

Vivienne says, “We cannot have a spirit roaming unconfined where there are children about. Even Cole demanded a binding. Surely you see the danger of leaving it unsupervised, particularly since we leave the mage children so…undisciplined.”

Solas’ face tightens as he forces away a sneer. Blandly he picks up a brush and dips it into the lead-white paint. He turns his back to Vivienne and says over his shoulder to Dorian, “I can see no harm in it.” Company dismissed, he turns and begins rapidly sketching out two large triangles, pointing down. He begins singing again, a more melancholy thing than the love song, and this time the words are comprehensible: “The road goes ever on and on….”

When they return upstairs Vivienne seethes, “He sees no harm in it because he’s lived his whole life half-mad in the woods, with spirits as his only companions, and due to the accidental of his birth he cannot comprehend the dangers of the Fade to most other mages.”

Dorian pauses. It isn’t an unfair assessment, but the White Divine’s Circles are so much more restrictive in the way they view spirits, and Vivienne, brought up in the proper devotion of the White Spire, is more restrictive than most. He’s worked with incorporeal assistants in Nevarra before, and back in Tevinter, Alexius had several bound to serve in the laboratories, and managed to keep them all from getting corrupted, too. A bit guiltily he thinks about Cole, who is sweet and infernally well-meaning. He doesn’t like the idea of a spirit like him bound up as a servant, but then he would break, wouldn’t he? Compassion is so fragile.

Then he realizes: that is the danger, isn’t it, that this spirit will break? Solas may see no harm in it, but Dorian didn’t even realize the Librarian wasn’t a man. What if the wrong person finds it?

He tells Vivienne, “I see what you mean. But let’s find out what it is, first. Now that we know that it is a spirit and that it’s…friendly, we can question it about its nature.”

Vivienne says, “You sound like you’ve been speaking to a pride demon—why do you think it will answer you truthfully?”

Dorian bows. “That’s why I have you, my dear.”

She smiles, and together they walk into the shelves. The Librarian is there, sitting primly on the cold stone floor. A little girl, an elf, is flipping through the pages of an illustrated edition of one of their many copies of Genitivi, speaking rapidly. Dorian recognizes her as the Inquisitor’s younger daughter—Mirthen? Meerden? It was something unbelievably solemn for a young girl, that’s all he remembers.

“So much lore!” the Librarian marvels. “So much information!”

“And then of course Auntie said that her cousin lied because why would we want them to know when they already call them false? Mamae says that holy things need to be kept silent. When she takes us to pray she keeps silent and only speaks if she thinks the gods want her to. But Auntie said more than that, it’s dangerous for it to be in books we don’t write because that’s setting it down and it’s like how the Fade shapes things, and we shape the Fade? The books take it away, because of the print. Have you ever seen print? Mamae’s a printer.”

This the girl says with pride. The spirit says, “What is—a printer?”

She claps her hands in delight. “Mamae said the dwarves from House Cadash invented it but it’s based off what the Shapers do to the Memories! Have you ever been to Orzammar? I’ve never been. My cousin says it’s true though, the memories are like print. You can take them out and everything. But you take lead and you pour it into a mould like a blacksmith, except you make letters instead of axes and jewelry or whatever, and then press it and you have a stamp! But if you make small ones for all the letters and move them quickly, you can make words and you just have to stamp the page. Put it together, take it apart. So it’s faster than illuminating a book but it’s uglier too, and Babae said it had less personality but Mamae—“

The Librarian says, “So much information!” Its eyes are sparkling. “Can you show me a book with print?”

The girl looks up at the shelves and then sees Dorian and Vivienne watching them. She colors. Very formally, in manners her mother must have drilled in her, she gets up and curtseys.

She mumbles, “Good day, Master Pavus, Madame de Fer.” She studies the floor; the Inquisitor’s children get very quiet around humans, Dorian’s noticed. He’s seen them chatter the ears off Varric, and they love Solas for his stories, who seems to appreciate a willing audience.

Dorian says, “Good day, Mirthen.”

Vivienne says, “Mirwen. Be a good girl and run along to Solas downstairs, won’t you darling? Stay there until he tells you otherwise.”

Mirwen frowns, but turns to the Librarian and says confidingly, “I’ll come back later. Stay here!”

The Librarian says, “I am always there for those who seek wonder.” The girl beams and scurries away, lugging the massive volume of Genitivi with her. It is a charming sight, Dorian must admit. She reminds him a bit of himself at that age, still so full of wonder and eager to share everything he learned with anyone who bothered to listen. Few bothered, of course, but then he learned to make himself a wonder to draw others to him, by his beauty, his wit, his disreputable charm.

Vivienne summons a ward and outlines a binding circle around the Librarian. It continues to sit there in its dowdy robes, but blinks curiously up at them.

Dorian says, “Well, aren’t you a curio. I thought you liked filing systems.”

The spirit says, “I do like filing systems! And I like print now, too.” He beams at them. “I never knew of books that were made of stamps before. So much new information! So much progress! It’s wonderful.”

Dorian sighs. He tells Vivienne, “Look at it, it’s harmless. It’s like a child.”

Vivienne says, “It likes filing systems. It’s dull.”

Dorian huffs. “Nothing I am interested in is dull. Filing systems—now, I grant you that Orlais is better organized than Ferelden or Nevarra, but there is no feeling better than taking a messy archive from some blood-addled magister and cleaning it up. The Minrathous system, unlike the White Spire, organizes by subject rather than mere chronological order, and then within the category organized by date of publication. So you don’t just end up with three shelves of Genitivi, and have to go through each book and hope you can find something about—I don’t know, lyrium memory crystals. In this case, I would simply go the bookcase dedicated to the study of lyrium, and head right to the bottom shelf, for the most recent publication, so I don’t have to wade through outdated work that’s long since been disproven. Or! If I do want to understand the whole study as a discipline, and see the development of the field, I can simply trace it in chronological order—“

The spirit is glowing, delighted. Vivienne herself is smiling. She says, “Darling, you need to go out more.”

“I do go out!” Dorian snaps. “I came out here! Into this miserable mountain backwater. Forgive me if I’m so titillated by the byproducts of civilization.”

Vivienne lifts a single eyebrow. “You could attend one of Lady Montilyet’s tea parties.”

Dorian says, “Do you attend her parties? Not just when she feats the aristocracy, but even when she’s wining and dining, I don’t know, tea merchants, and suchlike?”

Vivienne says, “Of course. I do delight in conversation and repartee. You might try it sometime.” Dorian laughs and mock-clutches his heart—that was a good one. “Even a tea merchant provides needed information for the effects of the Breach on agriculture across the continent. Half of the most interesting gatherings at the Court happen over tea, darling. One must keep up with the fields—who is buying all of what stock, how they are being delivered, how the merchants are devising new ways of it being served. And if there is a drought in the Nevarran tea mountains, then there is less tea for Orlais, and a new form of party must be devised.”

The spirit looks at Vivienne glittering in her finery. “You enjoy people,” it says. “The new games they devise. It fills you with wonder.”

Vivienne sighs. “Simpler than Cole,” she notes. “But more discrete, which perhaps makes it safer to leave alone. With supervision. Dorian, what do you think it is?”

Dorian says, “Wait, let’s ask it—who are you, O spirit of the Skyhold library, who likes everything from Brother Genitivi to print to filing systems to tea parties, apparently?”

The Librarian says, “You brought me here, so you already know.” The spirit smiles and suddenly Dorian sees it, the little girl running her fingers along the rows of indented print, himself breathing out a sigh of satisfaction at a whole shelf, properly organized, and Vivienne at the tea party, cup in hand, as her eyes sparkle over a piece of information that would be useful to a trader friend’s. He sees Josephine marveling over Solas’ frescoes. He sees Solas watching the Inquisitor, and then he hears the singing at that brothel that beautiful little night, the arm thrown around him, the companionship and the pleasure of it.

The spirit steps out of the binding and walks to the railing, craning its head to watch Solas paint below. “I am Wonder,” it says, almost an afterthought. “Don’t you know?”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #da fic #da fanfic #dai #dorian pavus #vivienne #madame de fer #solas #solavellan #so much lore! so much information!#skyhold librarian #skyhold is its own character after all #spirits #dai background characters

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Born To Die

Requested by anon: Can you do a imagine with Tommy Shelby? A song fic maybe Lana Del Rey's Born To Die but fluffy and angsty?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, *in Italian voice* mention of mafia stuff, mention of death, death not Reader’s or Tommy’s, fluff

Song: Born To Die by Lana Del Rey

Note: I can’t remember if they say how their mother died, I’m guessing it was when she gave birth to Finn, I dunno, I’m assuming so because...yeah idk. I hope you like it!

Edit: OH SHIT I JUST REALIZED I REMEMBER WHEN HER DEATH IS MENTIONED- I'M BIG DUMB LMAO

Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic | Thoughts = Apostrophe + Italic + Apostrophe

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby, @peakysputain

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Feet don't fail me now, take me to your finish line. Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take, but I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine.

Walking through the city streets, is it by mistake or design? I feel so alone on a Friday night, can you make me feel like home if I tell you you're mine?

Tommy sighed, watching the woman he loved walk angerly out the door of his office. He informed her of the Changretta’s vendetta and how she would need to leave him to live. He told her that he didn’t care whether or not she wanted to, that it was his decision because he was the one the Italians wanted to kill.

“I can fend for myself!”

“I don’t doubt that, love, but you need to leave.” He looked away, the quivering of her lip too much for him to handle. Tom almost cried, his eyes were watery and his heart was aching, he really didn’t want it to come to this. “Maybe being able to protect yourself will keep you alive if you ever need-”

“Whatever. I’m not leaving. I’ll just go home until you can change your mind or learn that I’m no coward. Perhaps when you do choose the right decision, you could come stay with me. Otherwise, enjoy your time here, Husband.” Venom dripped from the word, hitting him hard as he watched her spin around, grab her coat, and hurriedly stomp out the building.

Y/n smiled slightly, only for a moment, responding to the sorry expression Lizzie gave her as she walked past. The smile soon dropped from her face, showing that it was only for Lizzie to see, that she too was sorry. The woman flinched as the doors slammed, rubbing the sides of her head with a deep sigh.

“Thomas. She’s right, ya know. I’ve seen that girl do some extraordinary shit. Think about it.” With that, Lizzie followed Y/n’s actions, quieter and calmer, but still leaving him to drink his sorrows away while he “thought” about everything.

He downed another shot. What had been? His hundredth shot? His desk was already a mess, his office no better, and his heart still bared the burden of knowing Y/n would either be hurt by him or hurt by the mafia. There was no loophole this time.

The girl he thought of made her way to her old home, drenched in the rain, and utterly tired. Mentally. Emotionally. Slightly Physically. She knew exactly what she was getting into; Shelby business usually always had guns involved. Pol often told her that Tommy really did love her, that he was just stubborn.

Y/n laughed mockingly. Thomas was stubborn, but stubborn could be broken with choices. So that’s what she gave Tommy. Two of the hardest choices she’d ever thrown at him. Y/n grew worried as she neared her home, the feeling in her stomach and heart. ‘What if he doesn’t follow?’

She halted in her steps, turning and looking around. He wasn’t there.

Her walking continued, this time feeling very, very, very, very, alone. Each time she passed a block, knowing she was nearing her house, she felt all hope leave her body. She felt strength, bravery, and faith deteriorate as her heart slowly tore in two.

The door to her house taunted her. It’s readiness to be opened, to have her brain laugh in self-mockery, to tease her about how stupid she was to believe Tommy would actually care.

Or maybe- he’d be behind the door. Raced her to her home to prove her wrong with a pleasant surprise. Her front door was full of tricks, and her heart was pounding with anticipation.

She opened the door, revealing the nothingness of her home. It’s interior dark and Tommy-less. Y/n didn’t know what to do. Her plan to hurt him just a little backfired into hurting her just a lot. The couch was her bed that night. She was alone.

Tommy failed her.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, lets go get high, the road is long, we carry on; try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane, So choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die.

Ever since that weekend, she’d been avoiding Tommy. She only stopped by their mansion to see Charlie and the other Shelbys, but other than that, she stayed in her old house. The Y/n Tommy knew was clinging onto the edge, praying he’d change his mind.

Tommy was too damn stubborn for his own good.

“Thomas. You have to apologize-”

“No, Pol. I don’t have to apologize nor admit that she’s right. You know why? Eh? Because she’s not. I will not have the woman I love get murdered in front of my own eyes, or at all. If Y/n is to die, I’d rather it be old age or peacefully in her sleep than by the son of the man who tried to kill her at our own wedding.”

He knew the mafia would make it harder to prevent deaths, which he’d learned from John, and Y/n would be shown no mercy by Luca, so he took his time, for once, to think about his options.

“See? She’s escaped death once, who’s to say she won’t laugh in his face again?” Polly scoffed at her nephew, walking out the door to visit Y/n like she’d been doing for the past few days.

Y/n needed company, and Polly was the perfect person for it. She made Y/n tea and helped her unwind, allowing her to know more of her past than her own family member did. Y/n ranted to Polly, about the things she missed and the things she didn’t. About the things that made her want to lash out and the things that made her want to cry with joy.

“How’s Tommy?” Y/n spoke through sniffles.

“Horrible, still a stubborn bastard. But lets not focus on his actions in the now. Instead, why don’t you think of the things you love...no, loved, about Tommy, more specifically, how he was before the paranoia caught up to him?”

“I mean, can you blame him? His brother was-”

Polly pursed her lips, hinting to Y/n that she was not in the best of moods to be discussing anything of John’s death. Y/n stopped, looking to Pol, waiting for her to continue. “Tell me, what did Tommy do to win you over?”

“He was... kind. And very caring.”

A small boy chased a smaller girl through the woods, their bare feet crunching the leaves under them, cold air nipping at their noses and uncovered parts of their skin.

“Tommy!”

The younger girl cried as she tripped over a branch in the path. Only nine, she was sure she’d fallen in love with the twelve year old boy. He’d been sure of the same thing as well.

“It’s okay, Y/n, I’ve got you!” He raced over, jumping skillfully over the wood and dropping to his knees. His hands reached for her leg, she hissed in pain and brought her leg back towards herself. “No, you have to let me see it if I’m to help.”

“Promise you won’t hurt it more?”

“I promise.” The boy smiled brightly up at the girl before inspecting her leg. When he discovered it was nothing major, he pressed a chaste kiss to her injury, then helped her up and onto his back.

“He knew just how to make me laugh..still does,” she chuckled quietly.

“Thomas! I can’t believe you did that!” The teen girl gasped at her admirer, his story being more amusing than he’d thought. It was a relief. “Polly must’ve been pissed!”

“She was. Told me to stop doing the impressions, that it was disrespectful. But John enjoys it, so Aunt Polly doesn’t have to know everything...” They stopped, Y/n put out her cigarette and pulled Tommy’s from his mouth, putting it out as well. “It’s um..raining.”

“I know.” Y/n smirked at the boy, biting her lip shyly before extending her hand, “May I have this dance?”

“Isn’t it the boy who asks the girl?” She rolled her eyes playfully, Thomas joining her in their laughter, “Fine fine, yes, you may. As long as I lead.”

“Can’t promise you anything, princess.”

Tommy gasped, feigning offence, “Oh you didn’t-”

“Oh but I did.” Her smile made his heartbeat rush, the blush on her face mirrored his, and the dinosaurs in their stomachs evolved into giants. Once butterflies, now giants, their teen crushes never hesitated to bring them closer.

They danced, Y/n’s dress sticking to her skin like Tommy’s dress-shirt. They’d came from the church, Tommy’s story about how he talked to John in the preacher’s voice, and their Sunday Bests were now soaked with the skies tears, which their melody came from.

“Y/n?” She nodded in response. “Lets run away. Together.” He dipped her, and then pulled her back up to see her reaction. A wild, even mischievous, smile rested on her lips before he leaned forward to join their grins in a rough kiss.

“Polly will kill us, you know?”

“Oh I don’t doubt that for a second.” He pulled away from her, twirling her with his hand and basking in her giggles, “So I suppose we should think of what our final words’ll be, huh?”

Lost but now I am found. I can see but once I was blind. I was so confused as a little child, Tried to take what I could get, Scared that I couldn't find; All the answers honey.

She winced, crying out in emotional pain as the priest slapped Tommy. Pol collected her nephew, but no one came for Y/n. She was going to give up, allow the church to take her wherever they planned, but the door opened again. Polly waited by it.

The older woman blinked in surprise as the teen wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “T-thank you.”

“You’re very welcome dear. Now, come along, we mustn’t stall.”

Ever since that day, she’d been so bothered with the curiosity of what led Polly to help her. Even now, as an adult and married to a Shelby, she was confused. Polly was still helping her, even though she wasn’t on the best terms with Tommy.

“Why?” Pol looked up. “Why’d you help me that day? Did Tommy ask you too?”

Polly thought back, smiling and shaking her head. “No.”

“Then what made you help me?”

“Nothing, Y/n. I just... I just felt the need to help. Thomas had no say in the matter, as he believed your parents were coming. I believe I... I could see his love for you. The way he looked at you, the gleam in his eyes when someone brought you up, the pep in his step whenever he went where you were. Tom was happy, and that was important... especially when their mother passed.”

Y/n nodded, a single, yet still sad, tear rolling down her cheek.

“Tommy? what’s wrong?” The 18 year old boy crawled through her window, eyes red and puffy. He mumbled something of his mother dying after giving birth to the youngest, and the last, Shelby brother.

She felt her eyes well up with tears, knowing his pain and feeling the need to hold him close to her.

And she did. His head rested on her chest as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, waking up with tear-stained cheeks, tired eyes, and matching red hazes across their faces.

She fell asleep with him that night. And the next. And the next. And the next. He continued coming over, crying to her, sometimes with her. Despite them not confessing their feelings for one another yet, they knew full well how in love they both were, after all, they’d kissed before.

1908 was a wild year.

But it was also the year they finally vowed to be together. The sooner three more years had passed, the sooner she’d be with the man she loved. She smiled, stretching as much as she could with a sleeping Tommy on her. The sunlight danced across his sleeping face, allowing her to admire him and all his beauty.

The sleepy smile on his face too. It showed how happy he was.

That, or how much he enjoyed the feeling of her nails combing through his hair.

Either way, they were both happy.

“That’s why I helped.”

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, Lets go get high. The road is long, we carry on, Try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, you like your girls insane, Choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die. We were born to die We were born to die.

Come and take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane~

Luca blinked, blood in his eyes, as Y/n walked through the door and raised her gun. Thomas’ eyes widened; he was expecting Arthur, not his wife to push past him. And he certainly wasn’t expecting Arthur to just stand there, doing nothing to stop her.

She smirked at the Italian before shooting him, the bullet passing through his head and hitting the barrel behind him. She didn’t so much as flinch as the gunshot rang throughout the building.

Changretta’s body hit the floor with a loud thud, splashing sounds following. Gin poured from the hole in it’s barrel, but no one cared.

They were too focused on Tommy’s wife, who was tucking her gun away.

The woman looked at Tommy, a sigh of relief, possibly from the fact that he was still alive, escaped her mouth. She turned and left without saying anything.

He let out a shaky breath, speaking with pants every now and the,. “Tell your people in Chicago, that Michael Gray will sign the import licence to New York. 300 barrels of English dry gin a month.”

“Leave. All of ya. Tell your boss what you saw here today. Tell him...you don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” Arthur stepped aside once the men had left. “And uh brother? I believe you have your own business to attend to?”

“What?”

Polly flicked Tommy’s ear with a shocked expression. It was not from Y/n killing Luca, though she did feel proud of the girl, but from Tommy’s stubborn dumbassery. “Quit being such a stubborn bastard and go after her, idiot!”

“Right-” He swallowed before nodding and rushing out of the building.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, Lets go get high, The road is long, we carry on, Try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane. Choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die.

The slam of the door caused Y/n to stop and turn around.

“What do you wa-” She started, only for her to be grabbed by the back of her neck and pulled into a kiss. Their lips fit together perfectly, dancing before separating for the horribly-timed human need of oxygen.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you-” Y/n cut him off, pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket. The rain began to pour, dousing the couple in a familiar melody. She pulled away, grinning widely. “Oh.. it’s raining. Should we head back ins-”

“I know.” She extended her arm to her husband, her action and interruption catching him by surprise. “May I have this dance?”

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

Note

What are some of the things you want to see in the after ending?

Oh, God, Anon. There are countless things that I want to see in Saeran’s After Ending and honestly, I don’t know what to expect. I’ll go ahead and jot down all of whatever is coming to my mind at the moment since I’ve had plenty of time to consider what I want and what I wouldn’t like. Needless to say, stop here if you don’t want Ray Route Spoilers.

Okay, now that I’ve warned you I can talk about my thoughts on the matter.

Let’s see! I want Saeran and Saeyoung to see each other again. I want their father to be taken away and anyone that would threaten the boys ever again to go down. I want Saeran and Saeyoung to live without fear. I want them to not have to hide who they are. I want them to be able to get to know each other since it’s been nearly ten years since they saw one another and that’s a long time to be separated from your twin.

I want Saeran to have realistic moments where he holds his breath and we support him, standing by his side as he learns to over come the brainwashing and coding that took control of him. He will have his ups and downs. He should push himself and be ready to pull back when it’s too much for him. I want him to know that he can say no.

Therapy. Please, I recommend therapy for not only Saeran but everyone else in the RFA. We all need to admit that we need to talk about what’s going on and work on getting better together. That’s just a given, I would love to actually see that played out.

Time-skips could be okay, but I want them to be reasonable.

I want him to learn independence. I want him to pick what he does for himself and if he looks at us, I want him to know that we have faith in him and that we understand that it will take him time to understand freedom. I want to enjoy our time together as we work to find Saeyoung.

I want to see him become closer to the RFA. I want to see his friendships grow with everyone. I want to see everyone learn the truth and hold tight to one another as they always do.

The RFA can whether any storm that they go through and I believe in them to get through it. I want to see Saeran stiffly react to Zen and Yoosung as he learns how to be a good friend. I want him to laugh and get along with Jumin. I want him to get know Jaehee and see that he can share his hobbies with another person. There’s a lot that I want to see in terms of relationship growth.

I want to see Saeran just learn and grow in front of us while he gets better. I want to be there to see that. I think I would love to see some domestic moments with him more than anything. I want to hold tightly to his hand and remind him that he’s not alone.

In the end, maybe building a new house together where he can have a garden and the sunlight, and Saeyoung can live with us. There’s a lot of ways that I try to imagine the domestic ending but there’s so many things that I want that it’s hard to write them all down. I just think about what Saeran says in the lyrics of Four Seasons and I want all of that.

I want to be with him for all Four Seasons of our lives and I want see that play out however it will. I want the ups and downs, I want the highs and lows, I want to see that we can weather any storm. There’s no way to go wrong with thinking about what Saeran deserves.

Let us have that picnic that Ray always wanted.

Please.

There’s just so much, Anon.

Don’t even get me started on Saeyoung. I want to be there for him and show him that his brother isn’t alone. I want him to see us together holding hands and let him have that moment realization that even though Saeran went through a lot of harm while they separated, he wasn’t alone through all of it. I can’t say how many times I’ve thought about Saeran needing to step away from his brother to breathe and collect himself while he sit with Saeyoung.

I would love a one on one with him.

I can’t say how much I’d choke up if he thanked us for loving his brother. The guilt in his eyes as he cries and we reassure him. I think that’s one thing that I want the most with Saeyoung. I want him to know freedom from his chains and I want to help him too.

Oh, and I hope Vanderwood is okay.

Now, in regards to what I sincerely don’t want is a repeat of what went down with V’s After Ending.

I’ve shared my feelings on that matter before and I understand that Cheritz was going for that moral high-road that many people take where they say that it’s better to forgive on your path to healing, and while that can be good for some people, it can leave a sour taste in the mouth of people who don’t pick to forgive the people that hurt them.

I don’t choose to forgive the people that hurt me in many cases. That doesn’t make me a bad person. The problem with the Forgive/Judgement ending is that it can make you feel ashamed for not forgiving someone who quite literally, took funds from the RFA’s first two parties (that’s the only way she could’ve gotten the money to fund Mint Eye, even coercion and manipulation of people on the level that Rika does wouldn’t give her that much ability), manipulated and gas-lit Ray and Saeran for years, deceived and drugged countless people, so on and so forth.

I hate that she’s never punished for her actions. She needs to be rightfully punished for what she did. I want her to get therapy, and I want her to learn that she was wrong for what she did to everyone. I want her to be able to get better for her own health, and I don’t think she should ever be contact with anyone in the RFA ever again. But, that’s up to the RFA if they choose to speak with her or interact with her, not mine. I don’t want her to die, I want her to learn what she did was wrong.

It’s not Mika (Rika Behind Story Spoilers) who went through the cult. Rika had every chance to stop while she was ahead but she kept doing it. I would not forgive Rika, and I would never want to be around her ever again if I were in the position of the RFA when the truth is made known.

The only action that Rika ever took that could be looked at with the filter of self-defense was when she panicked when the boy’s mother tried to get close to her and harm her in a drunken rage. She acted to protect herself in that situation, but that’s the only thing that she’s ever done that someone could look at and say, she was protecting herself. She felt threatened. She panicked, she blacked out and protected herself from harm.

Don’t get me started on V. I love V, he’s not perfect, he fucked up a lot and he shouldn’t have gone back to Rika. It feels like he saw us love, forgive, and stand by Saeran and thought that he could be able to do the same for Rika, but that is not what will help him or Rika. They don’t need to be together again. They need to be fair away. Rika and V literally burned down the boy’s childhood home and V was wearing his sunglasses, so I can only presume that Rika harmed his eyes after he went to her.

Saeran himself says that he wants to tell everyone about Rika and V, but he needs to be able to discuss it with V. Even Saeran understands that V is a victim to some degree and he wants to help him. That was a big fucking comment on his part and I was proud of him for that. But, V left and we don’t know if we’ll ever see him again. So, I really don’t know how that’s going to be handled in the slightest, Anon.

I don’t want Rika and V together, like, ever again.

I want Rika to be punished for her actions and caught. I want V to get away from her and start to learn to love himself again and grow. I believe in him but he’s in need of someone to cheer him on when that abusive relationship ends. I really don’t want a repeat of V’s After Ending.

Don’t make me forgive Rika. Don’t make Saeran forgive her, either. That’s my worst case scenario fear. I want Saeran to be able to grow and get healthier, for sure, but his final confrontation with Rika should be the last time that he ever thinks about her. He made his mind up and he made it clear that she was wrong and he would never be tricked by her again.

I want him to stand his ground on that. I’ll stand by him no matter what he chooses to do, though. So, I want this to be about Saeran and Saeyoung coming together again, and helping V get out of that relationship with Rika, as well as Rika facing punishment for her actions. But, that might be asking a bit too much, haha.

I also just want to kiss my boy... once... maybe twice.

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#220-211)

#220: Yiannis Dimitras -- Feggari Kalokerino (Greece 1981)

"Κοίτα τον έρημο γυαλό Σου ψιθυρίζω σ’ αγαπώ Τώρα θα χτίσω εκκλησιά Για της αγάπης τα τρελά παιδιά" "Look at the desolate seashore I whisper you “I love you” Now I’ll build a church For the crazy children of love" The opening shot, the rose on the piano, set the stage for such a romantic journey under the summer moon. And the soundscape created through the piano and instrumental throw us into this endearing scene, one which is also tinged with melancholy. Feggari Kalokerino is not only an ode to this beauty, but also an admission of craziness for falling in love. With such pretty lyrics, one can't help but get enveloped in this pretty world, where everything is so beautiful. The combination of Yiannis' singing and the woman's piano playing is also quite cute, albeit with some...interesting undertones to it. Either way, it's classical yet timeless.

Personal ranking: 3rd/20 Actual ranking: 8th/20 in Dublin

#219: Liliane Saint-Pierre -- Soldiers of Love (Belgium 1987)

“Neem elkaars handen Smeed nou die banden toe Hoor je die verre kreet? Geen mens vraagt dat leed” “Take each other’s hands Come on, weld those bonds Do you hear that distant scream? Nobody asks for that suffering” Top ten opening themes of anime, haha. It also helps that "Soldiers of Love" is the English translation for the song "Ai no Senshi" from Sailor Moon (which I've listened to many times but haven't gotten that far into the anime...). That said, Soldiers of Love packs a punch with the instrumentation and the high intensity of the melody. The lyrics are a powerful battle cry, albeit one which advocates for peace amongst people. There’s so much energy and determination in Belgium’s host entry, one would prepare themselves for battle for a good cause. Liliane really delivers this earnestly and with determination, though sometimes the military-style get-up stands out to me the most when I watch it again. Though those two guitarists turning their ends as if they were firing guns is a cool thing to behold.

It's one of the host entries that is better than the song which one it for the country, which is something because J'aime la vie is considered a fan favorite.

Personal ranking: 6th/22 Actual ranking: 11th/22 in Brussels

#218: Beth -- Dime (Spain 2003)

"Cuántas veces te llamé en la noche Cuántas veces te busqué Por mis recuerdos yo vuelvo Y no pierdo la fe" "How many times did I call you in the night? How many times did I look for you? I return for my memories And I don’t lose faith" For some reason, Dime reminds me of "Die for You" from two years earlier--both feature modern pop bops with ethnic influences, both imploring about the state of a relationship (while they both want to make it wor. And they're both in the same key! At the same time, Dime holds its own as one of the strongest 2000s entries from Spain. They had similar flamenco/Latin inspired entries in 2001 and 2004, which were highlights in rather mediocre years because of their uniqueness overall. But the guitar flourishes here work well with the dance beat, and it provides its own fun.

Personal ranking: 3rd/26 Actual ranking: 8th/26 in Riga

#217: Svala -- Paper (Iceland 2017)

“Drawing every bit of my truth Colour me in with your blue” I didn’t actually pay attention to this song in the follow-up to the 2017 contest. I also didn’t watch the semi-finals, which could’ve led to me neglecting the song entirely otherwise, especially I've heard a lot about Blackbird during that time. However, the summer after the contest, I discovered the song and listened to it. And I liked it! (And then I got hooked with Svala's other songs through her different groups) I was interested particularly in the lyrics, which discussed a fight between one’s mental demons and anxiety. I like the English version more than the Icelandic one; the latter is a bit more optimistic on winning against the battle whereas the former really takes the issue seriously. The production, while a bit staid, added to the feeling of helplessness with its electronic coldness. The staging also tries to incorporate this, though it didn't work in making it stand out. (I did like Svala's cape and makeup, though!) While I do love "Hear them Calling" a lot, I had a more interesting journey with Paper--it grew until it became something I highly enjoyed. Personal ranking: 6th/42 Actual ranking: DNQ -- 15th in the first semi-final in Kyiv

#216: Live Report -- Why Do I Always Get it Wrong? (United Kingdom 1989)

“You can do what you want to do now...” Honestly, this has to be one of my favorite British entries ever. While "Go" from the previous year gets a lot of acclaim because of its songwriting and Scott's performance (along with how it ended up second in the end), "Why Do I Always Get it Wrong?" is better on how it envelops a mood and could actually be found from this era (though it sadly didn't do too well commercially afterwards, sigh)

Whenever I do something wrong, or self-hate, this is the song I turn to a lot. The synthesizers drew me in—it fit well with the late 1980s-early 1990s sound elsewhere. It's also helped that Celine performed "Where Does My Heart Beat Now" earlier in the contest, which piqued my interest. And while Ray’s ponytail was a choice, it didn’t distract from how he delivered the song.

Despite getting more 12-points, it ended up losing to Yugoslavia by just six points that year. While not my favorite that year, I think it was the better one of the top three; it equally reflects the times and holds up!

Personal and actual ranking: 2nd/22 in Lausanne

#215: Tommy Nilsson -- En Dag (Sweden 1989)

“En dag vi alla förstår, En dag, när stillheten rår, En dag jag finner din hand, När vägarna möts förstår vi varann,” “One day, we all understand, One day, when silence rules One day, I find your hand When our roads meet, we will understand each other” My two favorites from 1989 are sonically different, diverging between despair and hope. I listen to "Why Do I Always Get it Wrong" a bit more, but "En Dag' would stand out for me in a few different ways, more from being just the optimistic song of the two.

The intro features really good brass, which leads way to the fun instrumental. I like how it builds, and Tommy’s interplay with the backing vocalists is incredibly strong. You get a sense of energy from the both of them as they send the song to new heights.

Basically, it's just glorious!

Personal ranking: 1st/22 Actual ranking: 4th/22 in Lausanne

Final Impressions of 1989: It's a pretty fine year, both in songs in production. There are a number of good songs there, though not many classics which hold out in the long-term (except for Vi maler byen rød, which became famous in Denmark and even became the premise of a musical!). Highlights include an overactive conductor from Turkey, two children, and an awesome interval act involving a crossbow!

#214: Bang -- Stop (Greece 1987)

“Ότι κάνεις για δόξα και λεφτά Δες τι χάνεις, αλλού είναι η χαρά”

“Whatever you do is for fame and money See what you are missing, joy is somewhere else”

I’ve heard this song compared to Wham’s output, especially with its vintage rock-n-roll sound (wake me up before you go go). This doesn’t make it any less bad, with its charming tone and thoughtful lyrics about how a girl who only wants material goods should stop chasing them.

(This is another reason why sometimes, the original-language version is better that any other one--the English version to this song has goes on a completely different tangent)

The performance also falls into vintage aesthetics, with the suits for both Thanos and Vassilis and sock-hop style dresses for the backing vocalists. It's really cute, and the way they dance fits the scene.

On another note, apparently Greeks saw this as a favorite at the time, can someone verify that?

Personal ranking: 5th/22 Actual ranking: 10th/22 in Brussels

#213: Guy Bonnet -- Marie-Blanche (France 1970)

“Nous sommes là dans une douce quiétude Nous avons mis fin à notre solitude Nos corps apprennent de tendres habitudes Et Marie-Blanche est à moi”

“We’re there in a soft stillness We’ve put an end to our loneliness Our bodies learn tender habits And Marie-Blanche is mine”

By 1970, chanson was on its way out; in its place was folk, rock-n-roll (spearheaded in France by Johnny Halladay, who has a great French version of "House of the Rising Sun"), and psychadelia. Within France itself, some of the #1 singles from that year include Comme j'ai toujours envie d'aimer, Let It Be, and Bridge over Troubled Water (a total masterpiece, I tell you).

So, what does one make of Marie-Blanche, in this case?

It's a really sweet love poem, in which Guy declares his love for the girl. and conveys a particularly cute scene. Whenever I listen to this, I envision two lovers cuddling inside while watching the snow fall during the winter. There's a sense of magic and serenity in all this, and the lyrics match the pretty piano melody.

Basically, hits are important to keep the contest alive. But songs like Marie Blanche can pull on the feels in the right ways.

Personal ranking: 2nd/12 Actual ranking: =4th/12 in Amsterdam

#212: Justyna -- Sama (Poland 1995)

“I czuła się tak marnie Poczuła się tak marnie Jakby Bóg, dobry Bóg Nie lubił pcheł..”

“And I feel poor Feeling so poor As if God, the good God Didn’t love little fleas...”

If 1994’s To nie ja represented something classic and hopeful, 1995’s Sama takes it and reverses it. (And in the grand Eurovision timeline, they're only separated by the last song of 1994, Je suis un vrai garcon from France) Instead of a young woman filled with life and singing a decent ballad, we have another one pondering herself, all alone, with nobody to help her.

Also, this is more of an acquired taste with its out-of-tune recordings and Justyna’s scream. But it doesn’t feel out of place within the 1990s, with its alternative influences and production, and I like Sama a lot for that!

Unfortunately, it also caused it to do substantially worse, which is simultaneously explainable and baffling. A good result would've made waves for future Eurovision entries; the 1990s are my favorite decade, but they did misalign quite a bit from the mainstream.

Personal ranking: 7th/23 Actual ranking: 18th/23 in Dublin

#211: The Shadows -- Let Me Be the One (United Kingdom 1975)

"You and I could have an affair/make sweet music, go anywhere"

Isn't this lyric really charming? I couldn't help but have a little giggle because of it; there's a sense of naughtiness (especially with choosing "affair"; are they trying to something illicit?) underneath it.

That said, The Shadows are mainly known for their instrumental rock, but Let Me Be the One has a neat melody line. The rock-n-roll vibe, which could be released within that decade, is light but lovely, and added a jolt of uniqueness to the otherwise poppy contest up to that point. The flubbed line in the beginning ("let me be the one who literally holds you tight", haha) adds to the whole thing, but they were able to carry on, nevertheless.

And while I like all the 1970s winners to some extent, I would switch out "Ding-a-Dong" for Let Me Be the One in terms of winners vs. runners-up; like with Sama, it could've changed the contest in a positive way.

Personal ranking: =3rd/19 Actual ranking: 2nd/19 in Stockholm

#esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc greece #esc belgium #esc spain #esc iceland #esc united kingdom #esc sweden #esc france #esc poland #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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ariaadagio · 5 years

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Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs (Part 6)

Hello, all! It seems like it’s about that time again to continue my fic rec series! I haven’t had a ton of time to read since the S4 finale because I had a pretty hellacious summer, after which I’ve been so focused on writing. Hence why this has taken so long.

DISCLAIMER: These recs are organized by author, and the order is not meant to imply an order of preference. All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted. If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know. Lastly, this is just a list of things I’ve read that I really enjoyed, and I want to spread the love. That’s it. Period. It’s not politics, and I have no ulterior motives, okay?

NOTE: You can find my previous five rec posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 3), here (part 4), and here (part 5).

And, so, without further ado!

The Devil Goes to Shul by @arlome. Deckerstar. 7k words. Post-S4. In which Lucifer meets a Rabbi. This is such an interesting commentary on the differences between the various Abramahamic religions’ perceptions of the Devil. Rabbi Schulman is a well-drawn, fascinating, fantastic character. A fic that’s great food for thought, with a dash of good humor, and a little smut thrown in for good measure.

Of Honey, Sulphur, & Bone by @aryanightshade. Deckerstar. 35k words. Post-S3. In which the end of 3x24 goes a little differently. Cain captures both Lucifer & Chloe and takes them prisoner, absconding with them to his bunker in the desert. This fic has some graphic blood and gore scenes, so be wary if that’s a trigger for you, but the revelation; Chloe’s dueling panic, doubt, and empathy; the beautiful hurt/comfort; and the emotional pulse of this story makes for a riveting read.

The Ghosts of Picnic Table #29 by @elleflies. Deckerstar. Maze & Chloe. ~50k words when completely posted. Post-S4. This story is technically a WIP because it’s still in the process of being posted, but it’s already completely written, and I know it’s good because I betaed it and got to see how it all ends up, so I feel confident recommending it, now. A year after Lucifer departed, Chloe is still grieving his loss, when an unusual case at a haunted picnic table crops up, and she enlists Maze’s help to investigate. Lots of female bonding and fun in this story. And a ton of emotional intimacy and mutual pining for Deckerstar when Lucifer mysteriously starts showing up in Chloe’s dreams.

Boom by emynii & @obliobla. Lucifer & Dan. 4k words. In which Lucifer & Dan get trapped under an exploded building, and the only thing that’s stopping Dan from being crushed are Lucifer’s fanned out wings. Cue revelation. Cue platonic Douchifer stuff. And have some hurt Lucifer and hurt Dan to top it off. A lovely mix.

Trouble by Design by @hiromystory. Deckerstar. Lucifer & Dan. 76k words. Originally recommended as a WIP, now it’s done! A post-S3 Deckerstar scenario told in novel form. My favorite thing about this story is actually the author’s in-depth exploration of how Dan might react to a Devilish revelation. Hint: not well. Hiro deftly tackles Dan’s feelings about some of the questionable stuff he’s done through the lens of him now knowing the punishment that awaits him, and it’s both captivating and heart wrenching.

Guilt by liannabob. Deckerstar. 22k words. Post-S3. In which Chloe doesn’t take the revelation of Lucifer’s devil-ness all that well, and dire consequences ensue. This fic. Was. So. Angsty. The idea of Lucifer slumming in Hell loops for things he loves about Earth is just ugh. So good. And awful at the same time. But in a good way. And I promise the payoff for this angst is so touching and very worth it.

Patrick the Bartender Is Not Paid Enough for This Shit by liannabob. Patrick. 15k words. Canon-compliant S1 fic. I know, I know. Patrick, you’re saying. Who the hell is Patrick? Remember way back in the S1 pilot, when that bartender pops up from behind the bar, after having given Maze some head, and Maze is all cat-caught-the-canary, “You can go, Patrick.” Yes. That Patrick. This fic basically takes that character who never got a single line and gives him a whole personality and backstory and POV. The premise of this fic is that pretty much every employee at Lux low-key knows (and is fine with the fact) Lucifer is the actual Devil. And it’s. AMAZING. HYSTERICAL. And PERFECT. If you never read another OC fic in your life, at least give this one a shot. You won’t regret it.

Smoke & Mirrors by @theleafpile. Deckerstar. 80k words. An all-human mobster AU. In which Lucifer is the Devil of Los Angeles, and Chloe is still a homicide detective for the LAPD, who gets involved with him against her better judgment. This fic manages to maintain the integrity and essence of the characters we know and love, while simultaneously transporting them to an entirely new premise, and I loved it. I love theleafpile’s lyrical writing style. And I love the little bits of mythology she injects that suggest … this “all human” AU might not be what it seems on the surface. It takes a special kind of writer to pull off this kind of transformative AU, and theleafpile does it aplomb.

The Free Parking Jackpot Rule by lilith_morgana. Deckerstar. 3.8k words. Interstitial, canon-compliant S3 fic. Offers a little bit more context for the unicorn Trixie painted on Lucifer’s cheek in S3 on monopoly night. A concentrated shot of angst, with some lovely characterization to boot.

The Delusional Devil by @maimat2. Deckerstar. 25k words. Late S2 era. A casefic case-study on Chloe’s empathy. Based on the premise that she naturally assumes Lucifer’s wholly human self has some kind of mental trauma or disorder. When Lucifer starts acting more … more, she assumes he’s losing his grip on reality. I loved the touching way this story delved into Chloe & Lucifer’s friendship, and of course I loved all the hints of Lucifer’s otherness, which were tempered by Chloe’s human perceptions.

I Will Fear No Evil by @miahclone. Lucifer & Dan. 18k words. An interstitial S4 piece, arguably canon-compliant until proven otherwise. In which Lucifer & Dan are taken prisoner by some cultists, and Lucifer is subjected to an exorcism that goes horribly wrong. WARNING: if you suffer from emetophobia, this fic will be extremely triggering. I don’t have emetophobia, and I still got a bit queasy. There is also some pretty graphic blood & gore. This is quintessential whump. But this is well worth a read if you’re a sucker for Dan & Lucifer platonic bonding, hurt Lucifer, hurt/comfort in general, endings that make you go, “Whoa! New head canon!” and humor in the face of shit circumstances. Which I very much am. So. There you go :D

De Profundis by @mswyrr. Amenadiel & Lucifer. 3k words. Post-S4. Amenadiel offers Lucifer a solution to the problem of Hell needing to be ruled by an angel. A beautifully written brother-bonding fic, and, honestly, I think it’s the most straightforward way to fix how S4 ended.

Time Heals All Wounds by @notonelineff. Deckerstar. 23k words. Post-S3. Fills in the blanks for how things could have gone after S3. Lucifer is in dire need of medical aid, and Chloe tries to help. Satisfying hurt/comfort, and a lovely resolution.

Ouroboros by @pandainthestars. Deckerstar. 3k words. Events happen slightly differently in 4x09. Chloe & Lucifer chase after Kinley. Lucifer goes full-Devil when they’re in pursuit, not when they’re at Lux, which prompts some very interesting/poignant discussion between Chloe & Lucifer. I loved Chloe’s assertion of the ouroboros metaphor. A quick, angsty read.

A question of faith by @pixelbypixelfanfic. Ella & Lucifer. 2.1k words. A post-reveal fic for Ella, in which Lucifer & Ella discuss her faith. A poignant, thoughtful little piece that I really enjoyed.

Soup Kitchen by @tarysande. Deckerstar. 1k words. Speculative scene-replacement, S4. A heart-wrenching little interstitial scene for 4x03 that looks at how things may have gone if Lucifer hadn’t already been pushed by Father Kinley into doubting Chloe’s intentions.

my definition of holy (changes with each loss) by @thewollfgang. Deckerstar. 3k words. Post-S4. So … this fic doesn’t end happy. At all. Beware if that’s a problem for you. But if you want some delicious, cutting, heart-wrenching angst to roll around in for a while, this fic is your jam. The concept of Chloe praying to Lucifer intermittently, giving him updates, sending him her love, as she lives her life on Earth, and he’s stuck in Hell is just … oh, my god, my heart.

drunk in love by @thewollfgang. Deckerstar. 4k words. Post-S4. This fic isn’t in alphabetical order with wollfy’s other fic on this list, but I’m doing that intentionally, because if you want a happy ending for the previous nuclear angst bomb, I recommend head-canoning this as your ultimate resolution, where Lucifer & Chloe are reunited, and everything is gooey and perfect and the world is puppies and kittens. I live to see tipsy Lucifer & Chloe at Lux through the perspective of their friends/found-family. I hope we get something like this in S4.

The Trouble with Brittanies by @theyahwehdance. 500 words. A hysterical little ficlet in which Lucifer calls Chloe and asks for help with the Brittanies. I saw this ficlet evolve from a live discussion that made me laugh so hard my belly hurt. I mean, it’s an honest misunderstanding ….

#deckerstar #lucifer & dan #lucifer & ella #lucifer fanfiction #fic recs #aria recs #lucifer on netflix

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jedi-mabari · 4 years

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Powers Chapter 4

Word Count: 2920 Warnings:None A/N: so, here’s chapter four of Powers. @goodboiboomer-fc5 inspired me to write this and it features her Catalina Rojas, and I hope i do her justice!

Previous Chapter ///// Next Chapter

Summary: Faith decides she needs a day out of the Den and drags Catalina and Percy along with her. ______________________________________________________________

Percy and Jacob both snuck back into the bunker, hands clasped together. After Percy confided in Jacob her biggest worries about having been with the Project for so long, about what she feared she was turning into having hurt those innocent people, the tension between them had dissipated. But it was replaced by an unsure feeling of not knowing what to do next. They had sat on the old, rundown futon all night and Jacob held her while she cried. When she wasn't crying, they sat silently, waiting for the next bout of tears to start.

Percy couldn't think of the last time she had cried. She didn't even cry after her first mission with the Project, the first mission to prove she was with them. So the night and much of the morning was spent with her face buried in his shoulder crying about everything she had repressed in the the last five years.

Percy felt lighter than she had in ages as her and Jacob made their way through the halls, hands locked together. But when they walked into the kitchen, they quickly separated seeing that everyone was sitting around the table, staring at them. John and Faith were both smiling from ear to ear, Faith because she was happy to see Percy and John because he had assumed, wrongly, that he knew what they were doing together outside of the Den all night. Joseph looked up with a nice smile, setting his coffee cup back down on the table.

"Thank you for getting those cameras back online," Joseph said, looking much more rested than he had the night before. He took them in, with their messy hair and rumpled cloths and his eyes sparkled, like he knew exactly what they had been doing all night instead of what their siblings were assuming. Percy almost wished her and Jacob had spent the night doing what john had assumed, it would make it easier to face them instead of what they might think

"You're welcome," Jacob muttered, his hand clenching at his side instead of reaching back for Percy's. He walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a mug, filling it with coffee from the fresh pot on the burner. Percy grabbed a package of pop-tarts from the pantry, sitting down between Faith and the woman she must have guessed was Catalina Rojas, keeping her eyes off of Jacob and avoiding John's smirking gaze.

"Did you guys have a good night," John asked, and Percy felt Faith shift. John jumped back with a yelp, leaving Percy to guess that he had been kicked by Faith. "What was that for?" Faith looked at him like she had no idea what he was talking about.

"I don't know what you mean," Faith chuckled, and Cat had to fight to hide a smirk. Jacob stood over John, looking down at him with a frown. Percy smiled to herself, picking the sprinkles off her pop-tart. John looked up at Jacob with a shit eating grin on his face, waggling his eyebrows at him oldest brother.

"We had as good a night as you can watching out for Project assholes," he said, managing to keep a straight face through his lie. It wasn't entirely a lie. They had been keeping watch, but he knew it wasn't this place tell them what they had discussed. John shook his head, deciding teasing him wasn't going to be any fun. He frowned down into his coffee and shook his head, upset Jacob wouldn't play along.

"Jacob," Faith said, drawing his attention, "me and Cat are going to need to borrow your old friend here." She winked at him before turning to look at Percy, and he furrowed his brow in confusion, taking a sip of coffee.

"What for," Percy asked, wiping crumbs from the corners of her mouth. Faith turned to her and smiled, her expression open. She wasn't going to try and hide anything from her and she didn't want to upset her with a bad surprise.

"Well, I know it's only been four days, but there has been no Project activity in the woods as long as you have been here. So I was thinking the three of us, you, me, and Cat, could run into town, kind of a girls day type deal. Mostly so we could buy some clothes that haven't been sitting in a bunker locker for god knows how long." Jacob and Percy shared a look. Jacob was practically begging her not to go with his eyes, but she gave him half a smile and shrugged.

"Sounds like fun," Percy sighed, and Faith beemed at everyone around the table. She squealed and clapped her hands, popping up out of her chair. She rushed out of the kitchen to change out of her pajamas. Joseph stood, tipping the rest of his coffee into his mouth.

"I just want you three to be careful," he said, pointing a finger at Percy and Catalina. "The project still wants the both of you." Percy and Cat shared at look. Percy had only read her dossier, but she didn't even know her power, just that the Project wanted her bad. Cat smiled and turned back to Joseph.

"Of course we'll be careful," Catalina said. "I spent a year running from them. I think I know how to avoid trouble." It was the first time Percy had heard her talk, and her voice was light and lyrical. It made Percy smile, her fingers still picking at the sprinkles on her toaster pastry.

"We promise," Percy agreed, folding her pop-tart back into it's tin wrapper. Cat and Percy both stood, leaving the table. John, Joseph, and Jacob all remained at the table, talking over what was in the paper.

Percy and Cat walked in silence towards Faith's room. Percy didn't really know how to start a conversation with someone she had only read about. She didn't even really know why the project wanted her so bad, just that she was important to their master plan. She thought about what she could have offered to the Project that made them so feral to get her. But even in their somewhat awkward silence, she seemed nice enough.

"Are you ready yet," Cat asked when they reached Faith's door. Just as she finished her question, Faith pulled the door open, revealing herself dressed in light blue jeans and a nice white blouse. She looked beautiful with her hair up in a high ponytail.

"Yep," she said, leading the way to the exit, her ponytail bouncing with each step. Percy and Cat both followed Faith as she skipped down the hallway, looking like a fairy skipping through the woods.

They had to wind down the tunnels until they reach a cave where Faith had hidden their cars. Percy offered to drive, but Faith waved the idea of as preposterous. She climbed into the drivers seat, and Cat claimed the passenger side, leaving Percy to sit in the back. Faith, somehow a more reckless driver than her brothers, made it to town in less than an hour. When she stopped the car in a mall parking lot, Percy was clinging to the overhead handle and Cat was laughing nervously. Faith looked around at the other two women.

"What," she asked, twisting in her seat to see the terrified expression on Percy's face. Percy stared at her with wide eyes, her chest rapidly falling and rising as she tried not to panic about the reckless driving. "What? We lived!"

"Barely," Percy laughed, shaking her head, trying her damnedest to keep her heart from exploding from her chest. "You almost missed three turns. And I'm not so sure that was just a speed bump." Catalina laughed, shaking her head.

"You came into the parking lot doing at least forty," Cat teased, brushing some of her dark hair out of her face. She opened her door and slid out of the car.

"No one told you that you had to get in the car with me," Faith argued, slipping out of her seat.

"You did," Percy said, climbing out as well. Cat smiled at her and Faith pretended to be offended at their teasing. It wasn't more than a minute before she was tossing her head back with laughter, causing the other two to join in with her amusement. They walked into the mall, Faith between Percy and Cat, her arms looped with theirs.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Percy sat at the table with her bags between her feet. She didn't intend to buy anything, but Faith had insisted. She had dragged her from store to store trying to get her to pick something she might like. Percy was more interested in the gun shop on the second floor. She hadn't brought a gun, and was feeling vulnerable without one. But Faith was making her try on pants and shirts, and even made her buy a new pair of boots that didn't look like she had worn them through a war zone.

Now she sat in the food court, picking through a salad, eating the tomatoes as Faith chatted about how cute the top she bought was. Percy was to busy watching the people around them to actively listen to her. She knew that if she had brought a gun, she'd feel better about sitting in the open, but she still would have been watching the crowd like a hawk. Her knee was only twitching, but it was well on it's way to bouncing. They had been out in the open for too long, and it was making her nervous and the mall was to crowded for her to keep her eyes on everyone in the food court.

Cat sat quietly, and Percy couldn't tell if she was listening to Faith or watching the crowd like she was. Percy took a sip from her soda and sat back in her chair, still poking at her salad. She wondered how Faith could talk for so long. She didn't seem to need to breath at all, and Percy found it funny. She regretted not getting to meet Faith when she first joined Joseph's little family.

Percy must have spaced out because Faith and Cat were both looking at her with expectant look on their faces, like they had said something important and they were expecting her to say something back. She looked at them with a blank expression that quickly turned into a frown.

"Well," Faith asked, and Percy raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down, wondering what she wanted to know.

"Well what?" Percy looked between Faith and Cat, expecting some clue as to what the conversation had been about.

"What had been your favorite thing about today," Cat asked, taking a drink from her soda. Percy sighed with relief that the question wasn't anything serious.

"I don't know. The car ride was pretty fun," she said, looking down into the plastic lid of her cup, a smirk slowly creeping onto her face, "like a roller coaster." Cat and Percy laughed, earning a playful glare from Faith.

"Oh har har," Faith said, rolling her eyes. She smiled before taking a large bite from her burrito. Percy tried to focus more on the conversation while still maintaining her vigilant watch, but kept catching herself watching Cat to try and figure her out. Faith talked more than Cat or Percy combined, which Percy was okay with, because it gave her plenty of time to watch the crowds and think about what the Project could have wanted with Cat.

She was pretty, with her long brown hair and kind eyes. But with her Fang and Project training, that wasn't what she saw. She saw a cautious woman who had been on the run too long. Percy noticed the way she looked at the crowds too, the way her eyes darted from face to face like she was trying, or maybe hoping, to pick one out that she recognized. Cat hid it well though, behind smiles and polite looks. Percy just couldn't figure her out.

"We should get back," Faith finally said, letting out a long breath. She looked around and stood from the table, reaching under her chair and grabbing her bags.

"Can I drive," Cat asked, and Faith pouted. Her eyes were shiny like they were filling with tears. The look was silly with her exaggerated pouty lip.

"But I like driving." She dug the keys out of her pocket and dropped them into Cat's open and waiting hand. Catalina smiled and shrugged.

"But if I'm driving, we won't end-" Percy cut Cat off with a hand on her shoulder. She nodded her head back and to the right, drawing their attention to two women. They wore nondescript clothes, but their appearance was to deliberate. Like they were trying to blend into the crowd. Percy was a little disappointed that the Project would send such rookies after them, but knew they'd be able to give them the slip easily enough.

"Faith, you and Catalina head to second floor and come down the other side. Loop around the outsider and her to the car. I will loose these two and try and meet you back at the car."

"What if you don't get there?" Faith had grabbed Percy's wrist, and Percy let out a slow sigh.

"Leave without me. Keeping Catalina safe if priority number one."

"And if we come back with out you, Jake's gonna loose it." Percy looked back at the two, and took a deep breath.

"I'll meet you at the car."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The girls hadn't been home for hours. It was all Jacob could think about, the fact that they had been gone all day without checking in or anything. Jacob, Joseph, and John sat in the kitchen. Jacob kept looking up at the door, expecting to hear them giggling as they skipped down the hall any moment. He had had the same cup of coffee in front of him for more than an hour, and despite Joseph's best effort to calm the energy in the room, Jacob was still on edge, like he was waiting for them to never come home. He couldn't stop himself from thinking the worst had happened and he hadn't been there to protect them.

"Would you just shut up," John snapped, dropping the schematics on the table. He looked at Jacob, desperate to stop hearing his brother's worrisome thoughts. he was worried about them too, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear about it from Jacob at every second.

"I didn't say anything," Jacob mumbled, and John glared at him.

"No, you're right. You didn't say anything, but your thoughts are practically screaming!"

"Stop listening to them," Jacob snapped back, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

"Then keep your fucking thoughts in check! I don't need to listen to you worry about weather or not your girlfriend has got-"

"Would you both please just calm down," Joseph said as Jacob stood up to defend himself. "Look, we are all nervous about them being out, but they all can handle themselves. We have see both Faith and Percy in action and Catalina has spent more than a year on the run from the Project. They'll be fine." John and Jacob both stared at Joseph before sitting back down at the table. John picked up the schematics back up, going back to studying them.

"I'm sorry Joseph," John sighed, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry to you too, Jacob."

"I'm sorry too," Jacob said, taking a sip of his coffee and wincing at the cold drink. He stood up and poured it in the sink. He stalked out of the kitchen, heading towards the room with the cameras. He watched the screens carefully, his eyes lingering on every shadow to make sure it wasn't hiding someone before moving to the next screen. He heard Joseph breathing behind him and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I already said I was sorry." He didn't take his eyes off the screens as Joseph entered the room.

"I'm not here about what happened in the kitchen," he said, his voice soft like it always was when he was trying to fish for information. "What happened between you and Percy last night?" Jacob's eyes darted to the screen that featured the main entrance of the Den and the watchtower above it. He thought about the tears that had soaked his shirt as she spent all night crying into his shoulder.

"We talked," he answered, but Joseph wasn't satisfied with that, stepping up next to his older brother, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"About what?"

"Her time with the Project." His voice was clipped and measured, like he wasn't thinking about her pressed into his chest, sobbing into his shoulder with worries about the way her time with them changed her. Joseph took a deep breath, watching the screens with his brother.

"She's scared, Jacob," he said, still speaking softly, but his tone had changed, like he was trying to comfort him.

"She told me as much," he confirmed. They stood and watched the screens together until Faith's car pulled up, and Jacob felt his heart slam into his ribs as two figures stepped out and went to the back seat, where they lifted a third and carried it out of the view of the camera. Jacob recognized one of them as Percy and he was already headed down to the garage, running to meet them.

#Powers #Far cry 5 OC #Far Cry 5 au #Percy Hunt #Percy x jacob #Catalina Rojas #Faith Seed #my oc #not my oc #jedimabari writes

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junietuesday · 4 years

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Michael is walking down the beach at sunset, headphones connected to his phone in his pocket, breathing weed smoke into the air on the day that he meets Jake.

Well. “Meets” is a strong word. But the point stands.

The waves crash rhythmically against the soft sand, audible even over the soft music playing through Michael’s headphones. Since his area is shit, there’s too much litter to walk barefoot, but he can tell through his sneakers that the sand would be soft under his feet. The sky is pink along the horizon, the sun a gentle orange as it sinks beneath the ocean’s surface—it’s already seven PM, but obviously, sunsets are always late during the summer.

This beach is comforting, after so many years of coming out here to walk, listen to music, and, later, smoke. On bad days, it can feel horribly lonely out here with only the waves and the sand as his company, but usually, coming here is like receiving a warm hug.

Michael kicks an old soda can along the shore as he walks, the lyrics of “You Happened” from The Prom (thank Christine Canigula for trying to turn him into a theater kid) playing through his headphones, the upbeat tune contrasting with the quiet serenity of the rest of the beach. Nothing much ever really happens here, but in Michael’s opinion, that’s a definite plus.

Until he sees a head poking out of the water, far out from the coastline. Like, “is it safe for someone to be out that far?” far out. Michael’s never seen anyone swim out that distance, anyway.

He makes to call out to the figure. But just as fast, the figure dives down and disappears, a bright green tail that sparkles in the light of the sunset breaking the surface of the water, before it, too, vanishes beneath the waves.

Michael runs to the water, where the waves soak his sneakers and tug at his socks. The ocean is as always. There’s no sign the mysterious figure ever existed.

Jake slips back into his bedroom, flopping down onto his bed and closing his eyes against the light of nearby bioluminescent fish that streams in through his windows, reflecting off the sparkling blue crystal of his ceiling. He can still feel the after effects of adrenaline thrumming through his body, lighting him up from head to tailfin.

It feels like only moments later when someone crashes into the room with a thump of the door falling shut behind him.

“Jake!” Rich’s voice is all beams. Jake groans into his comfy, comfy pillow, pulling his comfy, comfy sheets tighter around him. (It’s a sensory thing, okay?) “Jake, I’m—oh, shit, dude, you look like ass. Are you good?”

“Stayed up way too late,” Jake says, looking up. He’s greeted with the familiar sight of Rich’s deep sun-colored scales, fading from orange at the hip to red at the tailfin, and the dyed-red streak in his hair. “I’m so sleep-deprived, save me from this hell.”

“What?” Rich tilts his head. “Why? I mean, all power to you if you wanna pull a random all-nighter, but—”

“Uh.” Jake propels himself upright, the sun beating hard into his eyes. “There was a reason. And you have to promise not to tell anyone if I tell you what I was doing.”

“Oh shit, this is serious,” Rich says, at Jake’s grave expression. He spins around, sending ripples through the water around them. “Lay it on me, dude! I swear on my life I won’t snitch.”

“Okay.” Jake takes a deep breath, sinking down to let his tail hang over the edge of his bed. “I was at the beach. Watching a human.”

Rich’s expression flashes from earnest to shocked. “What? For reals?”

Jake understands why he’s concerned. For all they know, this could be one of those humans that would turn them over to a—what’s the word?—an aquarium in a heartbeat, never to see the ocean or any sort of freedom again. Or the human could even kill Jake and keep his body instead. God knows there have been mermaids that have done the same to a human, after luring them from their ships into diving into the sea.

“Yeah,” Jake says, tail flipping with nerves, ripples pushing at the particles of sand on the floor in front of him. “He’s so handsome and cute and he seems so nice when he’s there with his friends, I think they’re his friends I mean, and like, I can’t see him as the type to murder someone senselessly! And either way, I haven’t let him see me—um, well, until…”

“‘Until’?” Rich repeats, lying on Jake’s couch at this point. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah.”

Rich looks at Jake.

“Are you gonna go back?” Rich says. “Just based on ‘he seems so nice’?”

Jake sets his jaw, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, hands clenching into fists against his mattress. “Yeah, I am.”

“Got it,” says Rich briskly, without even moving from his relaxed recline on Jake’s couch, as though he was expecting that answer. “I’m coming with.”

“What?” Jake stares at him. “No way. I can’t ask you to risk that just ‘cause I’ve got a crush.”

“It’s not just a crush if you’re willing to risk it,” says Rich, and the resolution in his tone tells Jake that he may as well just accept it, because Rich won’t back down. “I trust you, dude. So we’re both going.”

“Fine,” says Jake, but inside, he’s extremely grateful. “And…thanks.”

“No prob.” Rich flashes a grin. “Hey, at least I get some eye candy out of it, right?”

The day after the beach incident, Michael tells Jeremy about it over lunch at an old 50’s-themed diner, literally named “The Diner” according to the neon letters above its entrance. It’s their favorite because of the arcade machine in one corner and the jukebox in the other. While Michael definitely doesn’t want to go back to the actual 50s—what with all the racism and shit going on—the aesthetic this place pulls off is pretty cool. Plus, the food is amazing.

“You’re serious?” Jeremy says, his pastel pink iPod long paused and abandoned on the plastic table in front of him. He hasn’t even taken out his earbuds. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Michael says, slightly defensive. Because sure, seeing a mermaid on a random stroll on the beach does sound like some kind of clickbait and/or hoax, but what reason does Michael have to lie? “I promise, its tail was the clearest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You wear glasses.”

“You wear glasses—!”

“And like,” Jeremy goes on, ignoring Michael’s protest, “I don’t think you’re lying deliberately, but, y’know. You could’ve been just high.”

“Who says I was even smoking weed?”

Jeremy just looks at him. Michael sighs, disgruntled.

“Okay, fine, I may have smoked a little,” says Michael, “but I’ve never gotten hallucinations from weed before. It was totally a mermaid. It had to be.”

Absently, Michael wonders what the others in this restaurant think of their debate. Michael’s never pretended to be a totally normal human being, but this is a whole new level of slightly batshit crazy. The lady at one of the stools at the bar sips her banana juice from the vending machine, staring at her phone. Does she know the two teenagers sitting in a booth a few feet away from her are having a discussion about one of them apparently having seen a mermaid at the beach yesterday? Does she even care?

“Besides,” Michael continues, grabbing a fry off his plate. “If the fucking Quetzalcoatlus can be real—”

“Michael, are we really gonna go over this again?”

“Yes! I mean, it’s a fucking bird-dinosaur the height of a giraffe—which, by the way, is also a strange as hell creature—that could still fly—”

“Anyway,” says Jeremy, around a swallow of milkshake. He’s definitely used to dealing with Michael’s rambles by now. The Chuck E. Cheese pizza conspiracy (in which they re-plate uneaten pizza slices, accounting for the uneven crusts of pizzas), the history of the mitochondrion (an ancient cell absorbed an ancient bacterium and they ended up in a symbiotic relationship), the random superstition of knitterly grandmas (you have to put a mistake in your work for the soul to escape through)—you name it, Michael’s probably rambled about it. He prides himself on the vast amount of useless knowledge his brain contains. “Mermaid. I can’t.”

“I can,” says Michael. “I’m gonna go see if I see them again tonight. It’s gonna be a whole proper stake-out with like, snacks and shit. I’ll see them again if it kills me.”

“It probably will,” Jeremy says. “You can’t do that every night until you see this mermaid, who knows when they’ll come back. And who says the mermaid is even coming back at all?”

“Shush, Jeremy, have faith,” says Michael. “It’s totally, like, The Little Mermaid. The mermaid’s gonna come back ASAP to stare at my beautiful face and then we’ll meet on the beach and—”

“You really want your mystery mermaid to lose their voice and tail in a deal with a sea witch and then be unable to communicate with you whatsoever and then they’ll die if—”

“It’s the idea, not the details,” Michael says. Jeremy just doesn’t get it. “Okay? Come if you want, I don’t care.”

“Nah, I’m coming,” says Jeremy. “I don’t have anything better to do. But don’t be disappointed if nothing happens, alright?”

“Something’s gonna happen,” Michael insists. “I can feel it.”

The night after Jake was spotted by the human, he and Rich swim as quietly as possible through the halls of Jake’s house, light from bioluminescence filtering through the blue-stained glass of the ceiling shining blobby shapes on their skin. Jake’s parents are home for once, and they wouldn’t take too kindly to seeing their son and his best friend sneaking out in the middle of the night.

Jake lets out a breath once they make it out the door, then turns to Rich.

“You can still back out,” he says, but Rich rolls his eyes.

“I told you, you’re stuck with me,” says Rich. “Now show me the map.”

Jake shows him the map. He got lucky to have made a friend like Rich.

“Michael,” Jeremy says from the hood of Michael’s car. The crescent moon shines above them, the light reflecting off the ocean’s waves. “Come pokemon battle me, I brought your DS.”

“No,” says Michael, staring out into the water, sitting right by the water on the folding chair he’d brought. “I need to make sure I see the mermaid if—when they come.”

He checks his watch. Ten o’clock. It’s been three hours since the sun set, and so far, there’s no sign of the mermaid from yesterday. Not even a single stray ripple in the water.

Jeremy sighs at Michael’s words. Michael hears the crinkle of a chip bag being opened. He turns.

“Hey, let me have some!” he says, getting up to grab some chips.

But as soon as Jeremy hands him the bag, he’s back to watching the water.

“Are you sure we went the right way?” Rich says, consulting the map. They’re close enough to the surface that sunlight is properly reaching them, far higher than their town is located, but there’s no sign of the ocean floor rising steadily anywhere. “I don’t see a beach.”

“It was definitely this way,” Jake argues. He points at a sunken car, bits of gray peeking out from beneath the green algae covering its surface. “I always pass this thing a few minutes before I get to the shore.”

Rich makes a disbelieving noise.

“Alright, dude,” he says. “You better be right, my tail and arms are dead.”

“I’m right,” says Jake, though he can’t blame Rich for his uncertainty. If the situation were the other way around, Jake hates to admit it, but he might have turned around long ago. “I’ve made this trip, like, twice every week. I know the way.”

~sort of but not really fin (eyy!), i’m gonna finish this another time but for now i’ve gotta submit for the bmq

Word Count: 2010 Team: Michael Prompts: all main, 9 bonus Points: 76 (30 game points, 46 for the fic itself) @bmc-gift-exchange

#june speaks #my writing #im not tagging this bc its super unfinished but take the beginning of a pins and patches mermaid au!!

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heyyyharry · 6 years

Text

In Another Life Series: Chapter 11 - The End

Series description: Y/N and Harry are soulmates and destined to meet in every lifetime, but no matter how many times they reincarnate and find each other again, they never seem to get it right.

AU: reincarnation, soulmate!harry, prince!harry, assistant!y/n, witch!y/n.

Chapter 10 - The Sidekicks: The protagonists aren’t always the only heroes.

wattpad link ❤︎ Before you read the chapter, I have "a few" words to say *clear throat and open my Oscar winning speech* (or you can just start reading and skip this altogether, it's fine).

When I was reaching the end of Flatmate with no intention of writing the sequel, I wanted to write something new that would be just as good. My mind was empty, and I came up with many bullshit ideas and almost settled down with some of them (glad i DIDN'T!). Then as I was listening to 1000 Times by Sarah Bareilles, from the lyrics, I pictured two strangers meeting each other for the first time, feeling like they've known each other forever, but having no clue that they used to be lovers in a different lifetime. It's just so romantic in my head and I knew I could do this idea justice. So thank you Sarah Bareilles, if you read this fic lemme know lmao. The painting idea was originally from Marc Levy's novel with the same name (Idk what it's title in French, but in my translated language it's) In Another Life, so just to be clear I didn't really come up with that, credit to the genius who did. Thank you "The Tudors" for all this knowledge I have about the English dynasties in the 16th century, and I'm genuinely sorry if I offend anyone with all the historical inaccuracies, please forgive me. Thank you everyone who's read and waited and commented on every chapter to help me make this as good as possible. I know it's only fiction but to read about how my writing makes some of you happy and feel better really does make me happy and feel better and motivated to write more.

I've had a couple alternative endings to this series, and I think this one is the best (among the others), but if you want to know what the other endings are, feel free to drop me an ask! Or simply tell me what you expected from this chapter before knowing the actual ending here!

Okay, bye, thank you for putting up with my extra ass! Kissy, Allie.❤︎

___________________________

Harry ended up spending the rest of his afternoon chatting with his assigned nurse. He'd told the old woman about what had been going on in his life, how he'd met Y/N, the dreams he'd had ever since his trip to the museum, the faces in those dreams that looked just like her. And even though it did feel nice to finally get all this burden off his chest, he still found it strange that she barely opened up about herself. All he knew about her was that her name was Margaret, or Maggie as she preferred to be called, and she lived alone, no husband, no children, and had been working as a nurse for as long as she could remember.

"I have a feeling that we've met before," he told her at last because it had been bothering him since they first met.

But the woman just looked at him in surprise as she said she didn't think so. "Although, you do remind me of someone I used to know." She studied the look on his face, pondering for a little while.

"Oh, who is it?" He asked.

"I had a niece, she fell madly in love with a young man whom you remind me of."

"Had?"

"She...passed away years ago, unfortunately."

Harry could see the clear change in her facial expression when she said those words, so he didn't want to dig too deep into that hurtful memory of hers, even though he was curious to know about the man who resembled him. However, it was Maggie who continued with this topic he thought she wanted to avoid.

"That young man was very passionate about my dear Annalise as you are for the girl you love."

"Her name was Annalise?"

"Yes, it means Grace of God. I helped her mother pick that name."

"Very beautiful, ma'am." Harry pressed his lips into a smile when he saw how hers was beaming as she talked about her beloved niece. "I'm sure Annalise and her man were very happy together?"

"No. They never got together." Maggie shook her head slowly. "His family didn't want him to be with her and he didn't have a choice."

"So after she...uhm..."

"Passed away?"

"Yes, after she passed away, what happened to him?"

There was a long pause as the old lady's eyes shifted to her feet, and Harry felt like he never should've asked that question. He took a wild guess that the young man must've had the same tragic ending as the girl, if that was true, then this was definitely the most heartbreaking story he'd heard in a long time.

"He moved on, married the girl his family wanted him to marry, but he never stopped loving her. He died of a heart attack, and his last word was her name."

Harry felt a lump in his throat and he had no idea why. He was really hurting over a story of two strangers whom he knew nothing about. His faith in true love had always been faint, after hearing this he had completely lost hope.

"Had the timing been different, they could've ended up together," he said, breaking the melancholy silence that had taken over the atmosphere surrounding them.

Maggie released a long heavyhearted sigh as she crossed her legs and leaned back against the chair. She stopped to think for a moment, then she told him, "but I like to think they'll meet each other and start again in another life. Because true love never dies. Do you agree?"

No. Harry didn't.

He thought people had had enough chances in one lifetime already and God wouldn't be so merciful to offer endless trials for them to try and fix their mistakes again and again, lifetime after lifetime. Despite so, he still told Maggie he agreed with her and added, "I'll have my fingers crossed for the two of them."

As he was about to move on to another, more cheerful topic to discuss, the old lady spoke up again, "she wrote him a letter every single day they'd spent together."

"Oh, did he get a chance to read them?"

"He did. I gave them to him myself. He was very emotional, he burst into tears."

"Wow..."

"Before he passed away he gave them back to me." Maggie rose from the chair by his hospital bed and went to grab her purse, which sat on the table by the window. "I have them with me here, do you want to read them?"

"You bring them with you to work?"

The perplexity on his face made her smile as she pulled out a pile of papers which seemed pretty old, they'd turned to a yellowish brown and were all a bit torn at the edges. "I was moving to a new home today so I brought them with me, I don't want to put them with the rest of the other stuff in my flat, they're very fragile."

"I don't think I should read them, they're very personal, ma'am." Harry shook his head when she gave the letters to him.

"You're an artist, aren't you? Maybe these love letters will inspire you in your songwriting. And I know my darling Ann would love to share them with people who have the same heart as the man she loved."

Did she just say Ann? That was the name Harry had heard many times in his dreams about Y/N. But he could be wrong.

"I'm gonna leave them here for you to read. You have nothing fun to do around here anyway," Maggie chuckled then walked away from his bed, not expecting a reply from her confused patient.

Madam Maggie told Edward she'd come to him because of Ann. She's asked her to. Before the fire incident, Ann had a bad feeling, which she just assumed had something to do with Edward marrying someone else. Little did she know, that bad feeling she'd thought was insignificant ended up costing her her own life.

In her despair, the poor girl had snuck outside of the castle to see Madam Maggie and asked for two little favors. Thanked to Ann's favors, Madam Maggie showed up just in time to find an unconscious Edward lying on the floor of his chamber.

"Her powers allowed her to detect sickness, she knew you had a weak heart, which was also why you fainted earlier. She didn't have the heart to tell you, so she came to see me."

"Ann asked you to cure me?" Edward inquired, placing a hand on the left side of his chest, only to get disappointed by the answer he received from this woman.

"I can make you feel less pain, but I don't think I can cure you completely. Witches can fix broken bones and mend wounds, but we cannot magic away something so permanent like the heart disease you've carried since the day you were born."

Edward nodded understandingly. He seemed so unbothered for someone who had just found out his heart had been unwell since his birth. That was when you know he was, in entirety, wrecked. Ann's death had caused him such pain that nothing else, not even a stab in the gut by the sharpest blade would be able to hurt him that much.

"On the night we met, she fixed the wound on my leg," he said with a fractured grin and tears in his emerald eyes. "And I was supposed to be afraid of her, that was the first time in my life I'd ever seen witchcraft." He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound of it, just utter desolation. "But the look in her eyes made me feel safe...and suddenly I wasn't afraid anymore. I knew she was a good person."

"She said the same thing about you. She really loved you."

"And I let her down...Maybe...Maybe this sickness should just kill me so I can finally be with her." He took a long pause and shifted his eyes to the window by his bed, sucking in a long breath while contemplating whether or not he should say this out loud. He thought he should. "Before you got here, I nearly jumped out of that window."

"Why didn't you?" Madam Maggie calmly asked as if she'd already known, both what he'd tried to do, and the reason he'd chosen not to do it.

"I made a promise to Ann that I would be a good King. I have to live to fulfill that promise."

"It's good that you're still thinking straight." The woman flashed a smile, reaching out to hold his hand which laid lifelessly by his unresponsive body. "I haven't told you the real reason I'm here. Ann also asked me another favor."

"What is it?" He asked.

Madam Maggie thought that this was the most alive he'd looked since she first saw him. She confided, "did you know she'd been writing you letters?"

"N-No..."

"She had. Everyday, from the first day she set foot in this castle, to the night before they locked her away. She felt something bad was gonna happen so she brought them to me and asked me to keep them for a while. She told me she'd come back for them, hopefully with you by her side. She was very sure that you two would end up running away together." When she finished that sentence, Madam Maggie couldn't control her emotions anymore. Tears started to shed from her eyes, running down the crinkles at the corners of her chapped lips to land onto her worn out dress. Edward squeezed her hand a bit tighter, as he could deeply sympathize with her loss.

"Before she left she gave me a kiss on the cheek...Like she always did whenever we said goodbye...I didn't think—" That sentence was never finished for the old woman couldn't speak anymore. She began sobbing into the palm of her other hand. And Edward did as well. It was the first time he'd really cried ever since he last saw her, and he thought the agony he was feeling then would be his life sentence.

Harry woke up, gasping for air, again.

He was back in his hospital room, the only sound other than his own ragged breathing and riotous heartbeats was the beeping of one of the machines placed beside his bed. This time, he had a dream about Y/N stuck in a burning house, he risked his own life to run inside to save her but she couldn't come with him. So he held her close and let the flame swallow them whole. The dreams he'd been having had become more real recently, and he guessed his mild fear of the hospital had something to do with it. Fortunately, Harry wouldn't have to stay there much longer. The doctors had said, for some reasons they could not explain, his heart's condition had been slowly going back to normal, as if it'd healed on its own. By this time tomorrow, he could finally be home.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows then reached out to grab the glass of water his nurse had left on the bedside table. That was when he saw the pile of letters she'd put right under it. He slowly sat up, finishing his water, putting the empty glass back on the table, then with a little bit of hesitation, he took the letters and brought them to his lap.

When Harry scanned his eyes through the first line, which was the date, he almost thought his eyes were mistaken. The year was 1509, which was 510 years ago! Was this supposed to be a joke? Or was it just a thing this girl Annalise always did with her lover? Maybe it was a secret message only they knew. Now, Harry couldn't put the letters down without finishing every single one of them.

So Harry began to read, every single word. It took him only halfway through the first letter to realize this wasn't from just 'a few years ago' like Maggie had said. This was a letter from a peasant girl named Ann written to a Prince, Edward Rammour, no other than the man in the portrait, in the museum where the series of strange events and bizarre dreams of Harry's started.

The girl, Ann, wrote about their first met, about their little moments together, about the look in his eyes when he looked at her, about the things he said that he didn't pay attention to but she remembered every single word. And Harry knew every single detail in here, he'd seen them countless of times in his dreams, in which the girl who was supposed to be Ann, looked like Y/N. But the last few letters were all from her point of view so he didn't know what was gonna happen. She talked about not being able to see him as much, about doubting his love for her, about believing in his love for her again when he snuck out to visit her one night, about the things people in the castle said about her even in her presence, about a princess named Emilié who was betrothed to the Prince and hated her deeply, about receiving his letter one night asking her to meet him in the library. And in the last paragraph of the very last letter, she wrote about how happy she was because she believed they were gonna run away together. Harry's heart wrenched in anguish for he knew that wasn't what had happened.

In a millisecond, all the lost memories flooded back to him. Harry now remembered. Everything.

He remembered her screaming and shouting and begging him to save her and not let them take her away, and he didn't save her, he watched them take her away. He remembered saying goodbye to her one last time. He remembered the look on her face before the door shut between them, He remembered telling her he loved her, forever, and so he did. He loved her forever.

He remembered everything.

And on the hospital bed, he burst into tears, and those tears fell down and blurred out the handwriting of the girl who'd been dead for hundreds of years, yet kept alive inside his heart.

"Little Annalise had always preferred to be called Ann."

He lifted his head quickly and saw Maggie at the door. He didn't ask her to explain, he already knew what was going on. "Is Y/N...is she..."

"Yes, she is." The woman gave him a nod. "Did you feel strange when you looked into her eyes?" He did. "The eyes are the windows to a person's soul. That was why when you looked into hers, as well as...your own...in that painting in the museum, you felt a sense of familiarity that you couldn't explain. Same souls, trapped in two different bodies"

"How is this even possible?" Harry grimaced, trying to put two and two together on his own, but it wasn't that simple. "Why are there only two of us? Do the other...Does this happen to them too? How are you still alive?!"

"I'm the head witch, I'm immortal. Not even fire could kill me," she said, smiling as she approached his bed and sat down on the chair where she'd sat earlier.

Taking in a deep breath, she began, “when a person dies, his or her soul breaks into tiny pieces, each creates a new life. They start again as different people with no memories of the lives they used to have. But Ann already casted a spell on you, on both of you actually. That spell keeps your souls from unraveling and also connected to each other. So you’ve met in every single lifetime, and had many chances to start over. But this is the closest you’ve ever got to the ending she wanted for you two.”

"Why did it take me until today, this lifetime, to remember?"

"Because it took me that many centuries to have found you." Maggie sighed. "I usually found Ann first, but as there are more and more people on the Earth nowadays, it's really difficult to track her down. Every time I arrived in the past, it was already too late. But this time, I guess God does show some mercy after all. He brought me to you instead."

"So you working here is all a coincidence."

"A magical coincidence. I almost didn't believe it when I saw you here." She showed him a smile. And even though Harry had calmed down by now, he was still in shock. "Edward asked me to give you these letters, he thought only them would help you remember."

"W-Why should I remember if...if every time we got together one of us died?"

"Because only when you remember, would this story be over."

"Are you sure you want me to have them?"

Edward nodded, pushing the letters into Madam Maggie's hand as he insisted, "you're the only hope for me to find her."

She really was. Madam Maggie said once Ann had reincarnated into a new body, she would be able to feel her, and even if it might take a lot of effort to find her and convince her to believe she was Ann, it was possible.

Honestly, Edward didn't really believe in life after death. But he hadn't believed in witches until he met Ann, and she was real. Sometimes he still wished she hadn't been real. Maybe if she'd been a dream, a beautiful dream, then he would just sleep forever and never wake up.

"But how did you know it was the only way to break the spell?" He asked Madam Maggie, eyes on the letters. She could sense the sound of fear and doubt in his trembling voice.

"I just knew when you first told me, dear." She put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "She said it herself, only when you've found her in another life, could you two finally be together."

Edward exhaled though his mouth as recalled his lover's last words. She did say so, after she'd kissed him. The kiss. He realized it now! That kiss was when she put a spell on them both!

"Destiny is a funny thing, it's like a chess game, if you can't win, you lose." Madam Maggie took a deep breath and slowly let it all out. "Destiny wants to keep you two apart, so it will make sure you two are forever kept apart no matter what. Ann tried to break the rules, so by finding her she meant, you, finding Ann, not whoever she'd be in the next lifetime, or many after that. If you fail to recognize her but still try to break the rules by being with her, then destiny does what it has to, history repeats itself. One of you will pay the price."

Edward opened his mouth to ask another question, yet Madam Maggie shushed him right before he could release a single sound. "You should get some rest, your coronation is tomorrow."

Then she walked away, disappeared into the darkness of the long corridor. And that was also the last time he ever saw her.

"Edward! Wait, darling!" The voice caught Edward's attention, and he turned around, wishing he hadn't. His mother ran up to him, sounding so desperate as she pleaded, "darling, we need to talk!"

"No, we don't," he said coldly and started walking away. But she chased after him and managed to grab him by the arm.

"I understand that you don't want to speak to your wife but I am—"

"She's not my wife!" He shouted, but the frightened look on her face made him weak again. "It's only a title. Tomorrow she might be the Queen of England, but she will never be my wife."

"You cannot say that! You have to give her a chance! You need a son to rule after you!"

"I don't want a son so he would grow up with a mother like that. I don't want him to suffer the same way I am." Edward hoped those words did hurt the Queen, he hoped the pain shown on her face was genuine. However, he didn't know anymore, he didn't believe in it. Was there anything, or anyone in this castle, 'genuine'? "Emilié had told me everything, mother. You sent Ann in there...knowing father could hurt her. You were willing to destroy a young girl's life just to make sure I'd stay for the throne. Now I am King, are you happy now?"

"I did it because I love you!"

"You, same as Emilié, same as father, love no one but yourself!" Each and every one of those word was a knife pierced right through his chest. "The only one who's ever loved me for me, and not who I am, or going to be, was Ann, and now she's dead."

"I am still your mother..."

"You are not." He shook his head slowly, trying not to cry because she wasn't worth anymore of his tears. He'd suffered enough. "I loved you, I really loved you."

Loved. The sound of it crushed the Queen's dark heart into dust, and she thought she might collapse onto the floor had she been able to feel any of her muscle. She was frozen right where she stood, eyes wide, jaw dropped, heartbroken, staring at the son she'd let down. They could've just continued to stand there until sunrise, had the conversation been interrupted by the arrival of the Chief Minister.

"There you are, Your Highness!" Exclaimed the man, who sounded so thrilled since he didn't know what was happening here. "I already had everything you asked prepared for the coronation tomorrow morning. Also Piersilvio, the famous Italian painter, he wanted to paint your portrait as a gift. He would arrive at court soon after the ceremony."

"Good." Edward nodded as he exhaled sharply. "Anything else?"

"No, Your Highness."

"It's 'Your Majesty' to you now."

"Yes...My apologies...Your Majesty..." The Chief Minister hung his head to show respect to the new young King as he was startled by the change in Edward's attitude. He was afraid he might been in trouble for addressing the monarch in the wrong way, but Edward didn't pay much attention to it.

"Have a good evening, His Excellency. Could you please escort the Queen Mother back to her bed chamber?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

When Edward absented himself, he heard his mother desperately screaming out his name, begging him to forgive her. However, he turned a deaf ear to all the things she said. He was no different from a dead man walking.

There were indeed plenty of museums in London, more than 170 of them. Countless of visitors came and went every single day. What were the chances of two person returning to the same museum, every single day, to sit in front of the same painting? Surely very little.

For the first few days the pair were there, nobody really noticed. For almost two weeks, they began to. Everyday before the museum was closed, a young man and a young woman would arrive and stare at the portrait of Edward Rammour, and then they left when everyone else did. Some people thought they were lovers who shared the same passion with art, some said they were sad, depressed, and lonely, some said they were crazy. However, nobody actually came and asked them what their story was. Maybe if someone had, they would've told them.

"How long are you gonna keep tormenting yourself?" Asked Jason as he sat down by his best friend's side on the bench in front of the painting and handed her a donut, which she refused.

"Until I get my memories back..."

"That's impossible."

"Why?" She snorted. "I think I just need a bit more time with this painting, and it'll all come back to me. She wanted me to remember. That was why she cursed me as well."

"We don't really know what she wanted." Jason heaved a sigh. "Maybe she wanted the King to pay for his mistake by cursing him, but she didn't think about how it would also affect her in her new lives."

That theory seemed justifying, but Y/N knew it wasn't the truth. People wouldn't want themselves to be bound together for eternity with someone they loathed. She knew the woman she used to be still loved the King despite it all. If only she could remember what had really happened.

"He's back in London you know," Jason broke the silence between the two of them, hand reaching out to hold hers. He thought she might pull away like many times before, but this time she didn't. She stayed still where she was, emotionless, unbothered. "Have you listened to his new song? It's about you."

"I have. I love it. I wish I could tell him."

"You should reach out to him...if you want to."

"I can't, you know I can't." The lump in her throat when she thought about him made it hard for her to breathe. "Not until I know how to break the curse. If we tried to be together, there would be consequences."

"So you're gonna spend your entire life, sitting in front of this painting, trying to remember a life you had...five centuries ago?"

A simple "yes" was her answer. And Jason knew nothing else to say. He wanted what was best for her, and he thought separating her from Harry would fix everything. But everything became worse. She'd been losing sleep, her nightmares got more real and hard to wake up from. Still her memories of her past life were still dust in a desert.

Jason asked her if she was thirsty, she said no, but he said he would go buy her something to drink anyway. He then laid a kiss on her cheek and stood up to go. She was once again left alone. Actually, she wasn't alone.

She could feel him near. She didn't even need to turn around to know he was there. She just did. And she was afraid to look because her feelings could be wrong, and if he wasn't standing right behind her she would be so disappointed. That was when his voice rang right through her ear. The first thing he said wasn't 'hi' or 'hello' or 'how have you been?' Or even her name.

It was, "I've found you."

Y/N rose from the bench to turn around, facing Harry at last. He was wearing an expensive trench coat, hands in its pockets, his grey flat cap made sure half of his face was covered, but there was no way she could mistaken him with anyone else. Time seemed to stop when they locked eyes, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt something she'd never felt before. She parted her lips, wanting to speak, yet no word escaped for she had no idea what to say. He said he'd found her, but she knew he didn't mean finding her, here, in this museum, it was something else, almost like—

"Of course you don't remember...I...uhm—" he mumbled, as if he was talking to himself. Then a dimpled smile crept up on his face only to vanish as soon as Jason returned with a bottle of water for Y/N.

She didn't know what was going on in Harry's mind at that point, and Harry didn't say a word either. He turned his heels just as Jason recognized him, and quickly made tracks to the nearest exit.

Her eyes quickly followed his familiar figure to that door over there, then all the sounds around her became muted at once. She didn't even hear Jason asking her what had just happened, instead she heard Harry's footsteps echoing inside the walls of her brain as they were fading away. He spun his head and sent her one last look before the door was closed between the two of them. Time stopped. It wasn't Harry that she saw.

She saw Edward.

She saw him being dragged away from her by the men in amours. She heard her own deafening screams as well as his. She saw the flames on the torches on the brick walls mirroring in his green eyes. She saw him mouthing the words 'I love you' to her. The door shut between them two, and she snapped back to reality. Everything vanished. The room, the guards, the flames, the torches, him.

She remembered it now, everything.

"Y/N! Y/N! Where are you going?!" Jason shouted after her as she started running fast, pushing her way through a crowd of tourists, who screamed at her for being so rude. Then she burst through that door and she screamed out his name, causing many heads to turn around. There was only one face among them that mattered.

When she saw him she didn't hesitate. Hell, she'd been waiting for this moment for too long, 500 years! Now, she could finally fall into his embrace. Her head against his chest, and she was finally home.

Shocked as he was, Harry didn't resist the hug. He chose to ignore all the judging stares they were receiving and clung onto her, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed to her forehead.

"Why did you walk away?" She pulled back to look up at him with a pucker between her brows, all out of breath, yet laughing uncontrollably.

"You were...with someone else..." He sounded hurt and confused, it only made her laugh harder.

"That's my best friend Jason, you've met him before, remember?" she cried out, voice trembling because she'd never been so happy that she choked on her own words. "I was waiting for you. I've been waiting for you for so long."

"Wait, so you..."

"I remember." She nodded fast, arms tightened around his waist. "I remember exactly what was going through my head in that tower. I remember feeling so scared when I was on the stake. I remember the last image in my head was you. I remember...telling you to find me in another life so we could finally be together...And you did, Harry you found me."

When she touched his face, Harry felt as if there was magic on her fingertips. He dug his nose into her palm, sniffing away his own tears as he wiped away the ones that were rolling down her cheeks. He heard the sound of the camera shutter somewhere behind her, behind him, on his left, and his right, knowing their reunion could've already made the news already, yet he couldn't care less.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked, still cupping his cheeks with no intention of letting him go.

"I came to your house and Lisa told me." He paused. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I needed over a week to think of what to say to you before coming here so I wouldn't sound insane...I even brought your letters—"

"How do you have the letters?" Her eyes grew wide, mouth slightly opened. "Wait, have you...have you met her?" Y/N felt like her heart could burst from joy when he nodded his head, telling her yes. "Where is she?! Is she here?!"

"No, but I'll take you to her, love. She really misses you," he told her while looking around and spotting a couple sneaky paparazzi. So he locked his fingers around her wrist and urged her to come with him and get out of here so they could finally tell each other everything that had happened.

"Harry, wait!" Y/N tugged on his arm when he was about to pull her with him. "I...I need you to kiss me now so I can be sure neither of us is gonna die."

Her pretentious fear made Harry burst into laughter. With no hesitation, he cupped her cheeks with both hands, bringing his face down to hers so the tips of their noses brushed against each other, then with their lips only one breath apart, he whispered to her, "queen of my heart."

He kissed her exactly how she wanted to be kissed, like it was their first, last, everything they had left to lose. This passionate and timeless moment put an official end to the series of misery that had lasted for five centuries long. And people who walked past King Edward's portrait that day could swear when they told the story, of how they saw the man in the painting, smile.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #in another life series #ial #prince!harry #reincarnation!au #witch!y/n #assistant!y/n

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khiphop-stories · 6 years

Text

Getting Off The Wrong Foot

[Christian Yu | Chapter IV]

Previous Chapters: Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III |

“Are you and Christian a thing now?“ Jay asked you out of the blue as he glimpsed at you from the corner of his eye, observing your reaction. But he didn’t get any from you. You kept your eyes on the display, continuing to watch the music video he wanted to show you. Jay was one of your closest and oldest friends. You had met him when you both were still immature teenagers who didn’t know a thing about the world. You both took a leap of faith and moved to Korea to start a career. You didn’t have a single clue about the industry. You bonded quickly as you were going through the same struggles, like missing home, feeling alienated and being thrown into the cold water. Back then the two of you were almost inseparable, where you go, he would go too. However, life happened, you both became busy, he as the CEO of two independent labels and you also had your own employees to take care of. But something that never changed was that he valued your opinion a lot. It was a tradition that never changed; before he would release something, he always had to show it to you first.

“I saw you two leaving the bar together,“ he then added. Realising that he wasn’t going to drop this topic until he received an answer, you let out a long sigh. “We fucked. Big deal,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders, acting like sex wasn’t something meaningful to you. But it was and Jay knew. You weren’t the type of person to casually hook up with a random stranger. No, you were more of a hopeless romantic who believed in the great love. Well, at least before your heart was shattered into bits time and time again.

“Do you like Christian?“ Jay further interrogated trying to figure out why you were acting so unlike yourself. It wasn’t a side he knew of you and it made him worry. “I had sex with him, I’m not falling in love with him,“ you rolled your eyes at him.

“Is this because of him?“ “I don’t wanna talk about it, especially not with you,” your eyes darted back to the computer, signalling this was the end of the conversation.

“It’s like you became a new person after the break-up.”

“What do you expect me to do? Lock myself inside my room and cry all day? Been there, done that, didn’t make me feel any better.”

“Jumping in bed with the next best guy isn’t the solution either.“ He sounded like a parent giving their child a lecture about how to behave. He wasn’t usually like that. Jay was someone who you could always count on. He would always have your back and support you no matter what. He respected your decisions and never forced his opinions and views on you. Why out of the sudden was he being so over protective?

“I had sex with him and I actually enjoyed it. For once I didn’t have to think about that son of bitch. What’s so wrong with that?” You retorted as you pressed stop on the video. His interrogation made it impossible for you to focus on it. You turned your eyes to your friend, giving him an icy look.

“That was a bit harsh. I know he hurt you, but—.“

“Don’t even start,“ you shot him a glare.

“He made a mistake, we all do. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.“ “Jay, I’m already mad at you because you didn’t tell me although you knew. Don’t make it worse,“ you warned him sharply.

“It wasn’t my place to say anything. He had to tell you himself.“

Jay had always had a strong sense of morality and loyalty. He was someone who would always try to make it right for everybody, someone who would put his own needs aside to please others. He would never, not even in a million years, turn on his friends and your ex happened to be one of his close friends. Jay was stuck in the middle and no matter what he decided to do, he would end up disappointing one of you. Knowing his personality, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. You knew how much he wanted to tell you. He tried to tell you in every possible way, without actually telling you. He hinted at it, he urged you to talk to him and to advised you not to take everything as it appears. However, you were too stupid to see through his lies. You didn’t even suspect him, that’s how much you trusted him. You were in a good place. You had nothing to complain about since he always treated you well. He was a good boyfriend. No matter how busy he was, he always made sure to make time for you. He even dropped everything to go on vacation with you. He made you feel special and important by occasionally sending you small gifts and flowers. Little did you know, he did it all out of guilt. “Well, he didn’t! I had to find out through his fucking side chick. Do you know how humiliating that was?“ You suddenly raised your voice at him, the anger boiling in your chest.

“He really did want to tell you.“ “I don’t care want he wanted or planned to do. Fact is, he didn’t. That’s all that matters. Why are you even picking his side?“

“I’m not picking any side. But I know how much you love him and I know how much he struggled. It’s not black or white. I just don’t want you to regret anything.“

“Trust me, I’m not gonna regret breaking up with an unfaithful bastard.“

“And you think Christian Yu is the better choice?“Jay asked in a mocking one. “For god’s sake, Jay. I’m not dating him!“ You let out a long sigh, tired of having to justify yourself.

“I have a meeting in half an hour, send me the video I will watch it at home.” You packed your bag and grabbed your phone which was lying on the table next to the mouse. Then you got up from your seat with Jay’s eyes following you and put your coat on.

“I know when you’re lying.” “I’m not lying, Jay. I really do have a meeting soon.”

“With whom?”

“DPR,” you replied shortly, leaning in for a quick hug. “Wait…you’re working with him?” His eyes widened at you in disbelief as he grabbed your arm, before you could pull back. He knew you couldn’t lie into his face, that’s why he held you in place, observing your reaction closely. “It just turned out that way,” you shrugged your shoulders as you turned your arm, so he would loosen his grip on you.

“Min, I love you, but I don’t think that’s smart." “Stop judging me,” yous said in a whisper. You dropped your gaze since you couldn’t bear to look into his judgmental eyes for any longer.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” his eyes and voice softened. “Why do you hate him so much? You’re not usually the person to judge someone based on rumours.”

“I just don’t have a good feeling.” “You know something, don’t you?” You scanned his face, trying to read it. It was obvious he was hiding something, probably wanting to protect you from getting hurt.

“Jay, tell me,” you demanded as his silence was the answer to your question. “Remember when Ashley and I got into a fight and broke up for a minute?”

He didn’t have to go on, you already knew how the story would end.

“He used her vulnerability, fucked her and left the next morning.” “You think he did the same with me?” You asked him in a whisper, a cold shiver running down your spine. “I don’t know...but you were vulnerable and he needed a quick fuck.”

~*~

[Time leap]

The first thing that caught your eye when you entered their office, was the colourful DPR neon sign hanging on the wall. You liked their office, it wasn’t anything flashy. Quite the contrary, it was kept simply and minimalistic, yet aesthetically pleasing to the eye, just like you imagined their office would look like.

“Where’s the rest?“ You looked around, but the office seemed to be empty. It also was a little bit too quiet in here. You had a couple friends in the music industry and whenever you would visit them in their studio, you would hear music blasting through the speakers.

“Dabin had a performance in Busan this afternoon. They all accompanied him. They will be back later, but for now it’s only me.”

Christian led you into their meeting room which you could see from outside through the glass wall. It was small, but it had all necessary equipment.

“Hold up, I went through all the trouble coming here to discuss the project and they’re not even here?“ You looked at him in disbelief.

“I already told you on the phone that we weren’t done with the song yet, but you insisted to come. I wonder why,” he chuckled softly.

“What are you hinting at?“ You furrowed your brows at him in confusion.

“Miss me much?“ A teasing grin appeared on his lips.

“Christian, I came here to do some work because I might not be there next week for the shooting. This is not about you.” “Relax, I was just playing with you.” He tried to ease the tension between the two of you that had obviously built up. “Just show me what you have,” you rolled your eyes and stepped inside the meeting room. You put the black file and your iPad down on to the table as you took a seat. Christian quickly followed suit. Since he didn’t want to anger you any further, he quickly played an excerpt of the song without saying a word.

As you listened to the song, a little smile crept onto your lips. The lyrics were witty and meaningful. Dabin’s deep voice in combination with Cream’s track blended in so well together.

“I love it,” you nodded your head impressed and Christian let out a sigh of relief. You saw how the tension in his muscles eased and he could finally breathe normally again. It almost seemed like he was afraid to show you their progress, afraid that you would criticize everything and they would have to start again from scratch.

“This is the set design,” you unlocked your tablet and showed him the drafts. “If you want anything changed, now’s the chance to say so.”

“No, I like it the way it is.”

“Ok great. I told the team we will be shooting next Wednesday. Will you be able to finish the song by then?”

“Yeah, Dabin has already finished recording, Cream just needs to do the arrangement and some mixing.” ”Then we’re done here,” you took your stuff back into your possession and got up.

Christian walked first and he grabbed the door knob, as though he wanted to open the door for you, but he didn’t. Instead he just stood there, staring at you confused.

“Step aside, Christian,” you rolled your eyes in annoyance. You didn’t want to be in a room with him for longer than necessary. It felt like recently everybody was disappointing you, as though the world was against you and didn’t want you to be happy.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked you out of the blue.

“I’m not if you’re opening this damn door,” you hissed at him sharply as you threw him a short glare.

“You’re suddenly acting so distant like we’re strangers.”

“Technically we are,” you responded with a shrug of your shoulders. “We worked on a project. Twice. We slept together. Twice. I think we’re past being strangers.”

“And you expect me to fuck you again today?” Your eyes darted to him, taunting him.

You didn’t know why you were so mad at him and seeing his face angered you even more. Maybe Jay’s words did get in your head somehow.

His eyes widened, staring back at you as he was lost for words. He was so startled by your outburst, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Christian, can you just be honest for once?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shook his head in confusion. “I can’t believe I fell for you.” “Fell in love with me?” His pupils dilated and you could have sworn you saw the corner of his lips slightly twitch upwards. “No! Fell for you damn stupid act,” you looked at him full of disgust, as though the idea of being in love with him was nauseating. “What act?” “You act like you care, but you don’t. You just want a quick fuck and you would use any means to get your selfish desires satisfied.”

“Ok, first of all, you were the one who kissed me! You made the first move and I responded and—“ “That’s what you tell yourself to feel better?” You cut him off, not even letting him finish.

“That’s how it was, Minhee. I’m not gonna lie, I thought you were hot. I felt hella attracted to you and of course I wouldn’t have turned down a chance to sleep with you. But I didn’t make a move on you, until you gave me the green light. I flirted with you verbally, yes. But I didn’t physically force myself on you.” “You knew I was vulnerable that night. You knew I just went through a break up.” “I had no idea about your break up!” “Why did you approach me then?” “I didn’t approach you with the intent to fuck you that night.” “Then why?” You insisted. “I don’t know! I just…I saw you there and my feet moved on their own. I had no idea what would happen. I didn’t think about it that much.”

“You’re saying you didn’t think there was even a tiny chance that I would jump in bed with you?” “I…I-I mean of course I fantasized about you, but…Minhee, this is so unfair right now. You’re twisting my words.”

You parted your lips about to respond when suddenly five guys appeared on the other side of the glass wall. Dabin quickly recognized you and waved at you enthusiastically with both of his arms, a smile appearing on his face.

You waved back at him awkwardly as your conversation with Christian was cut short and forced the corner of your lips to rise upwards.

~*~

“I’m going home now, I discussed everything with Christian. He will give you a heads up.”

“Wait Minhee, do you by chance drive a white Benz?”

Your eyes darted to Joo Won confused by his sudden interest in your car.

“Yes…why?”

“Well…it just got towed away." “What? Why? Am I not allowed to park there? Christian, you told me to park there,” you eyes trailed back and forth in utter confusion.

“It’s posted property. You need a special ticket to park there.”

“Shoot…I forgot to give you visitor’s pass! I’m sorry,” Christian slapped his head the moment he remembered. “I totally forgot about that!”

“Can I get my car back now?” “I’m afraid it’s not open until tomorrow,” their manager informed you.

“Dammit,” you cursed out loud. Luck just wasn’t on your side today, was it?

“I’ll drive you home,” Christian quickly offered, maybe because he felt guilty for getting your car towed away and this was an attempt to make it up to you or maybe because he really wanted to finish the conversation you had started.

“No thanks, I’ll take the cab,” you turned his offer down politely. “Cabs don’t really come to this area. The last time I called a taxi, I waited over an hour,” Dabin complained

“Just let Rome drive you home. It’s his fault in the first place.” Joo Won agreed.

“Yeah don’t let him get away that easily,” Scott let out an evil laugh. “He needs to suffer.”

~*~

[Time leap]

It was a silent ride, neither of you said a word. But you could literally hear his brain working to come up with something to break the silence. You knew he desperately wanted to say something, he opened his mouth several times, words on the tip of his tongue, but he ended up staying silent. With your head turned to the side, you observed the people in the streets, before they slowly vanished from your vision.

“I’m sorry,” Christian said out of the blue, but you didn’t engage. You showed no reaction, not even a blink of the eye. You didn’t want to be in a car with him in the first place, much less have a conversation with him. You only agreed, because he was pestering you about it and if you didn’t, the guys would have noticed something was going on between Christian and you. The last thing you needed right now was having rumours about you doing their rounds. “Not for your car, I mean I’m sorry for that too, but…I-I didn’t want to make you feel used. I honestly didn’t even think that far. I really didn’t plan to sleep with you that night. When I saw you... there was this look on your face that really bothered me. Maybe I knew something had gone wrong in your life. I could tell by your expression. You seemed sad and I thought maybe you didn’t want to be alone. That’s why I approached you. Not because I thought you were easy and wanted to fuck you. I just wanted to see you again, talk to you and…I don’t know. I didn’t think that far...but then...then you kissed me. You gave me that look…and I just kinda lost it from then. I couldn’t think straight anymore. I just knew I wanted you, right there, right then.” [To be continued...]

What do you guys think? How will she react to his apology? Do you think Christian’s apology was genuine or is Jay right about him? Please let me know what you think! I’m already working on the next chapter, will be posted soon...really soon! :)

#christian yu #christian yu scenarios #dpr scenarios #christian yu imagines #christian yu scenario #khh scenarios #getting off the wrong foot

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thewhumpstuff · 4 years

Text

You and I, Me and You [32]

[CW:- References to: Past gunshot trauma leading to loss of limb, human trafficking and trade, amputee oc rescued from captivity. ]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] - (Lost and Found: Chapter - 7)

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Empty by Ritonix

Jared was left feeling incredibly uncomfortable on Ezekiel’s turf. The blonde had just made that house his, left parts of himself in the tasteful debauchery. From the thoughtfully curated pieces of art and display of exotic ancient instruments, to the carefully minimalistic nature of all the furniture that promised convenience, comfort and luxury. He walked into the study with Tariq. “Zizi… sounds like Vivi. Zizi… Vivi… Zizi… Vivi” Tariq remarked with a dry snigger. He needed some relief from the tense silence which he and Nova adopted, to let Zizi rest by the fire. This felt like a cheap trick to lighten things and it made her name feel strangely familiar. He swallowed his hollow laughter and surrendered to the awkward silence again when the other man emphatically did not react. They made their way back inside. Jared spotted the tall woman resting on the floor in front of the fireplace. She looked like she was napping, lying on her right side. Only a single leg emerged under the hem of the flimsy gown. Her arm lay draped across her ample hips, the fingers caressing the carpet with every uneven breath. Her head was resting in the crook of the other and her eyes were closed. The stump of her forearm that she had lost would have been imperceptibly hidden in her hair. Not fingers, nor a fist was visible though the strands and that was enough for Jared to know. Much like Tariq, he had seen his share of victims. It was rarer to see them without prosthetics, though. He made it his priority to get her access to those as soon as time permitted after he got a grip on the situation. Jared noted the swelling and bruises on Tariq’s hands. He jerked his chin towards the pummelled fingers. “Is she dangerous?” Jared did not sound fearful, just a little concerned and rather matter of fact. He was astounded by the resounding quality of Tariq’s answer. “No. She’s a survivor!” Jared narrowed his eyes, there was curiosity but no accusation. “What happened?” “Things just got a little… hairy when I- we tried to get her out of the room…” Tariq sounded a little brittle; Jared rubbed his temple. There were moments that called for correction and inquiry, this was not one of them. From the looks of it Tariq had done the best he could. He assumed there was an altercation and the Q.B. agent held off without needing to strike or restrain the victim. “Right. You should get that looked at.” Jared said. Tariq’s amber eyes rested on Jared as he replied. “I’m fine.” “Yes, but Zizi is going to need a wheelchair, she can’t possibly stay here.” Jared countered, with an entreating glare. Someone needed to run tests on Zizi and soon. The situation was a little sensitive and the only viable option for a BioHacker was also someone Zizi was probably terrified of. He personally knew what it felt like to be hated by a victim of serum-healing. And Akira had had just one session. From the sounds of it, Zizi had it worse. Regardless, they had to get out of Eze’s house. It was an easy way for Jared to trump Tariq with logic. He had no authority to dismiss Tariq and he could only hope the man would show some faith in him. Tariq did have faith in Jared. Given everything they had endured, the mutual suffering, if nothing else, had created some trust and understanding. He could also see that Jared was really trying to get him to leave, but he did make a good point. He’s got this… and… “I’ll be back…” …Sooner I’m gone, sooner I can be back…

Zizi had not been asleep. Jared should have known better, after all, he had adopted a similar tactic to gain information when he was confined to the hospital bed. She got to her feet with astonishing fleetness, given her state, but she had to, to make a point. “Wait!” A startled Tariq heeded the exclamation but did not turn. “Your hand… I - I’m sorry…” Her apology was crisp and not elegiac. There was an indifference to her regret, but also some deference for Tariq’s chivalry. As sour as she had been about it, he had done her a favour and understood the feral nature of a cornered person. Even if they haul me back to the damn pits, at least valour and gallantry is not all dead. He pointedly let his uninjured hand hang by his side, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I don’t see a problem, do you?” “You’re crazy…” she whispered, like it was a personal afterthought. She shook her head disbelievingly. “Empty, that’s you singing right? I’m a big fan too…” Tariq said having placed the lyrics to the name of the song. He looked over his shoulder and offered a reassuring smile, pretending like nothing ever happened. Tariq wished she had not bothered to stand up. He understood that it was to demonstrate the respect she attached to the apology… It still felt unwarranted “Does this fan have a name?” “Tariq… I best be off though…” His smile faltered when he saw her doddering. He considered reaching out, he did not need to. Jared noticed too from the corner of his eye. The movement helped him snap back to reality. It did not take a genius to know a fall was imminent, he swiftly reached over to break the fall. She is fine. Jared will take care of this… better. Tariq conceded to Jared’s experience. With that last glimpse of Zizi falling into Jared’s arms… He left in a hurry. Once her gaze fell onto the face of the man who caught her, she stiffened in his arms. Jared Knight… Hailed then and hailed now. From the way he handled her, it became apparent that he did not know who she was. How would he? I was in a goddamn mask. And everyone who thought they knew him, were probably wrong.

There he was, composed and detached as usual. Out of personal, illogical vendetta she wanted to strip at that wall, bring to the forefront her own resentment as a victim, as collateral damage in the grand scheme of things. She wanted to and she tried not to, but the bitterness slipped into her tone. “Oh… If it isn’t The Red Knight.” She greeted him in another whisper that was soft and unsettling. Jared could no longer ignore the feeling that something was off, something that necessitated privacy; luckily, he had some now. Those green eyes pierced his soul, with reserved judgement. There was a sheen of sweat on her skin. “So, where do you stand in all this?” She spoke coolly, pulling herself away when she regained footing. He frowned and was quick to let her go. She lowered herself to the ground with a slightly ungraceful fall towards the end. He sat down too, cross-legged. Like old friends by the fireplace, except it was anything but. They did share a past… And it was not pleasant. “I was told that Ezekiel held you captive against your will and that Novara was made to conduct experiments on you.” She winced; he did not mince his words. “That is correct.” She did not add any details and studied the man in front of her. Jared could see her unwillingness to really cooperate. She had no reason to trust him, but apart from that, there was more to the simmering, penetrative gaze that pinned him. He switched tactics, it made sense to set her at ease first. “You must be hungry… I personally like this one...” Jared held both the bottles of BuzzBo in his hands, wiggling the fruity flavour. It reminded him pointedly of Akira and their discussion. He ignored the reminder. She avoided looking at Jared and could not help choosing the other bottle. The one he did not recommend, the savoury flavour that tasted more like soup. It was a pointed decision. Jared ignored the feeling and weighed this logically. He assumed she was emphasizing a lack of trust. It would not make sense for him to tamper with just one of the bottles if he wanted to drug her. He broke open the seal for her. Look at you, helping me… Just because you have both your hands. Zizi really wished she could swallow the bitterness that rose like bile. She tensed and it would have been imperceptible to most, not to Jared. “Thank you.” Her words were too abrasive, to hold the gratitude they were meant to. Jared narrowed his eyes, he was good at reading people, but Zizi was not even trying to make it difficult. What Jared lacked was access and information, to figure out the why. In the spirit of trying to inspire trust yet again, Jared shrugged, opened the option he had recommended and took a swig. The sweet freshness was welcome. It quelled the odd queasiness he had not bothered to recognize until it was gone. “Ezekiel has been arrested on some charges; he will not be returning.” “So, what happens now, am I free?” She asked with an acidic emphasis, like she was challenging him to make a promise he could not possibly keep. He did not. “That depends on where he found you... Zizi.” “Found me? I was… traded… for my own life. If that makes any sense.” It doesn’t. A sharp inhale followed her words. It was difficult to make heads or tails out of that, but it did not sound good. He tried to prompt her for a less vague explanation. “Traded for your life?” Jared repeated, he hoped she would offer more clarity so he had something concrete to proceed with. The more she looked at his face, the harder it became for her to not blame him for everything. Traded for my life, a life that did not belong to me anymore… because of you! He knew he was not really the enemy, not then and not anymore, but that just made it all the more difficult to handle. He got to be the good guy who was doing his job, she had to live with the damn fallout. She shook her head with an urgency and resorted to disjointedly spewing her lyrics again. Empty returned to her lips again. She rapped softly, like it was a mantra. It was iconic enough to be. “Empty… promises, empty threats…, empty lies and empty beds.” Zizi used lines she had penned a long time ago, like a serenade. The words sent a jolt of disquiet within Jared. Empty, by Ritonix. It was a long time ago that he was ordered to look for that enigmatic artist and his involvement in the chase had not ended well. He did not expect that name or these verses to haunt him today. Jared sat paralyzed. He stared at the floor resolutely focusing the fibre of the carpet, which was red and not green. Which was soft and not abrasive. Letting that solid red colour stand like a wall between the memories that sought to invade. It was a long time ago! I am fine. I’m fine now. And I knew the risks then. Briefly, her eyes snapped open, they held within them accusation that she failed to supress. She waved the stump of her right hand in his face. “That bullet changed everything! That bullet changed EVERYTHING.” Jared leaned away from her on instinct, he was bewildered. His subconscious learned something though, something clicked in the back of his head. - “Do you have a clear shot, Knight?” “Yes sir.” His gun was aimed at the masked artists’ head. “Take it. One dead should kill the spirit of the rest.” The crowd watched the confrontation, there were too many eyes on him. He lowered the gun, just a little. BANG. The victim was soon buried in a thicket of angry people. “I missed, sir. Situation is hostile, we’re outnumbered.” “Damn it, Knight. Get your team the fuck out of there.” - “Break your mind, break your soul, break your body, to make you whole.” She went on. It felt merciless to Jared, but she had no idea what the lyrics were doing to him. She did not know that he had been brought to his knees for that shot… and worse. Jared resisted the urge to cover his ears and beg her to stop. Instead, he grit his teeth and folded his arms. He sat there, practicing denial as he watched her. She rocked to her own words, like a shattering star. There were so many dissenters who had claimed they were the legendary artist. Many had lost parts of themselves too. This could just be a coincidence. It could not be. It could not actually be her. And even if it was her… I did pay heavily for that bullet too! Indignation had become a recurring theme recently. Perhaps a part of him was finally tired of paying for things he had to do. Jared grappled with the forbidding memories again and tried to focus on keeping his breaths spaced and even. Was this just some cruel ploy? Some last-laugh game that Ezekiel was playing to torment him? Nikolai had buried everything related to that incident the best he could, but Ezekiel did always have special access. Maybe he found out what the Ritonix fans and crew did to Jared as retaliation for that shot… Now, he wanted to know. He needed to know. And for that he would need his own clearance. He also really needed Zizi to stop whispering the rap… A door opened and closed somewhere in the house. The sound toppled Jared back to reality yet again and it broke the grim tension of the moment. Tariq returned with a wheelchair. Zizi was still in a trance. Her eyes were screwed shut. She rocked and rapped with an insistence, through lips that barely opened. And Jared looked like he had seen a ghost. I thought you had this handled, Jared. “What the fuck happened here?” “We need to get her looked at…” Jared replied, collecting himself quickly as he got to his feet. “Nova is the only option if we want to avoid exposure. Do you think that’ll be okay?” Tariq asked uneasily, they were both out of their depths. It was unlikely that Zizi did not harbour at least some ill-will towards the medic if she was a subject of experimentation with that serum. Jared was rummaging through the canvas pockets of the wheelchair, most of them came equipped with medical supplies, including tranquilizers. He swiftly fixed up the needle. I need… her to stop and we need to get her out of here. He rarely acted in total selfish interest, today was no exception. She looked like she needed to calm down and he knew if the verses continued, they’d rip through him eventually. And that would hamper his ability to remain professional. Tariq wanted to protest but did not and Jared made a decision. “It’s the safest… fastest option.” Zizi did not open her eyes till she was already being injected with the tranquilizer. Emerald eyes drilled into Jared, with hatred and fear, before her vision blurred. Tariq hoisted Zizi’s limp form into the wheelchair and strapped her in to keep her from wobbling. Jared sent a message to Nova.

To Novara: Where are you?

Jared had made a mental note of Nova’s things in Ezekiel’s house, just because they stuck out and reminded him that she had to live with him. On their way out, he whipped the sleek, black velvet coat off the hanger and threw it over Zizi in a slightly unceremonious manner. His actions were plagued by a hefty weariness. Tariq took a moment to wordlessly correct the folds of the fabric so it covered Zizi evenly. -

To Jared Knight: I’m with Akira… I told her everything. She is okay. I’m okay too. :)

Novara had the tendency to include smileys in her text messages, even when she decidedly was not smiling. Grief and relief had reduced her to sobs. Novara had invited herself into Akira’s room on the pretext of watching a movie. It had not taken her long to simply, spill. Akira now knew more than Jared did. She knew about Zizi and she knew what Vivi-Anna, Tariq and Nova did to Ezekiel to free her. “It’s okay… It’s okay...” Akira’s voice was soft, she cradled Nova’s head against her shoulder. They were both in Aki’s bed and she hoped for the magic of covers to make things better… Even temporarily, like they had last night for her and Jared. She felt the weight of guilt, a lot of things happened because she made the decision to defect. However, things had gotten so unrealistically out of hand, at this point there was no way she, or anyone else could have predicted all these outcomes. So, after having plummeted to what she believed to be rock-bottom, Akira tried to rally. Focus on the silver-linings. Focus on the silver-linings. Shit hit the fan, but Ezekiel was imprisoned, Jared was offered SiC and Zizi had been rescued. Maybe it was time for things to get better. And she needed to pull herself together, so she could be there for Novara, for Tariq and for Jared. “They’d eat a bullet for you.” She was grateful that they did not have to. They had suffered too… And they had been there for her. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me? Ever… not hate me?” Nova didn’t look up as she spoke. Akira could not make promises for Zizi. She chewed on her lower lip. “Time heals everything, right Nova…? Or you do…” She tried to lighten the mood. Nova half-sobbed and half-giggled against her friend. Akira joined her in the half-hearted chuckle. The sounds faded, the screen in front of them continued to mutter something unintelligibly. Akira spoke over it, “I think I want to meet her.” Nova received a notification on cue.

Jared Knight: Stay there, I am bringing Zizi over.

The CommCube traced Nova’s gesticulating fingers as they danced in the air, typing on a keyboard that her SmartEye lens allowed only her to see. She sniffled and replied to the text with a monosyllabic confirmation.

To Jared Knight: Ok! :)

“You might be in luck… They’re coming here.” Nova could not help but sound nervous. Akira read her tone with ease. “It’ll be fine…” She reassured.

[Tags: @quirkykayleetam, @lettuceknighted]

#dealing with past trauma #whump #emotional angst #guilt #coping mechanisms #fear #trying to build trust #oc Zizi #oc Jared #oc Akira #oc Novara #oc Tariq

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stratamuzak · 4 years

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Interview with Voltagehawk

STRATA: What artists in particular you are drawn to (alive or deceased) that you listen to for particular moods? Such as happy/sad/contemplative/etc… Explain why you might listen to one artist for a particular mood.

CHASE AROCHA When I want to feel inspired I listen to a lot of the different projects of Mike Patton. Be it Faith No More, Mr. Bungle, Peeping Tom, or Tomahawk, the range of styles of music is so diverse that I’ve been listening for like 15 years and I haven’t gotten bored yet, haha. When I want to relax or chill, I love BadBadNotGood, an amazing jazz artist doing incredible arrangements all in a hip-hop context. It’s great! Or Ray Lynch, I really love his writing and use of counterpoint melody. Then if I’m getting hyped I put on something like Dying Fetus or Vitriol, or Maximum the Hormone. And any other time I’m blaring Kamasi Washington, Robert Glasper and Sturgill Simpson.

DAN FENTON I think a lot of the time music finds my mood. Sort of more a spiritual or cosmic connection. When I was a kid my mom would make us watch musicals if we stayed home sick from school. Jokes was on her because I hated school but I loved learning musical scores and how to write dynamic parts and movements. The fact that people like Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire, Frank Sinatra or Marlon Brand were also amazing actors only added to that unlikely education. I learned how to really feel music between that and the intense very bloody hymns we had to sing in church. I understand the sentiment but that shit is harder than a lot of black metal. “Are you washed in the blood of the lamb”. Hard core shit. Sorry, I digress. During the making of our most recent record which is called Electric Thunder and set for release later this year or early next (hard to navigate releases with all this pandemic shit) I listened exclusively to film scores, classical music and radio evangelists. I am not religious but I grew up in a preacher’s home and when I needed to get my creative push and anger at its peak, I listened to preachers who were clearly greed driven and motivated by the lust for power. It made my adrenaline rush in anger and it came out in the recording for sure. I am a huge fan of Hans Zimmer and Vangelis. Each of these artists move me in powerful ways. The juxtaposition of darkness and light both in traditional instrumentation and experimental synth based work. Just musical giants. When I am feeling frustrated about the social issues I see everyday in my East Nashville neighborhood I listen to KRS-One, Kamasi Washington, Outkast. A lot of protest music. I am in love with band IDLES from the UK. Such powerful lyrics tackling issues like the need for male vulnerability, equality for all and the seemingly ironic brutal beat down of toxic masculinity. That band is great if you’re happy, mad, sad, whatever.

STRATA: Do you have a process you go through prior to writing, playing, and even performing?

CHASE AROCHA I do a lot of breathing exercises like the Wim Hof techniques. I have generalized anxiety disorder and I used to get horrible debilitating panic attacks, it helped me get into breathing and meditation. Anxiety will never go away but you learn ways to live with it and push through your panic. I think about how much this means to me and how long I’ve spent doing it, I try to see that I value myself as a person and then from that thinking I can just let go and play music. Only approaching it with love and not worrying about mistakes because that’s how we learn.

DAN FENTON The entire thing is one process. Like a heros journey of sorts. I listen and meditate everyday, I believe in a cosmic river of inspiration that flows from an energy that is and has always been. I believe if you listen hard enough and give yourself to the music the muse will send your mind transmissions that may only be a section of a song, or perhaps they are an entire album, but everyday I show up. A few years ago I read this book called The War Of Art, by Steven Pressfield. In this book he describes the invisible force he calls the Resistance. The Resistance may be things both “good or bad”, but they are anything that keeps you from showing up for your art. So I show up everyday, you can ask the dudes in the band, they receive a work tape maybe twice a week with new shit to try out. If I don’t feel that muse working I don’t force it, but I instead wait on further transmissions from the cosmic womb. All sounds crazy, but my story is crazy, so crazy makes the most sense. In the studio I have many processes. I found while recording vocals I perform better in complete darkness, I have realized how much I live inside my head and how active my imagination is and equally ADD my eyes are. So when I can’t see it brings to life the imagery and the passion of the song. I can see all those people I write about, all the landscapes, the love, lust, joy and pain. I also do some method stuff, keep things in my pockets pertaining to a character I may be portraying in a song. Wanna be Daniel Day Lewis shit.

STRATA: Your own current project, discuss the process your music went through as you built each layer. From beginning to the end of it.

CHASE AROCHA This all started with our drummer Jarrad having a vision and going through trials and errors of finding the right people to execute that. Along the way Dan, Tyler, and I all came into the picture and that vision morphed into something we all felt was not even from us. Like we were an antenna receiving a signal and these riffs and lyrics quickly meshed into something I haven’t heard before. Part hard rock, part jazz, part punk and hardcore. All with this message of love and truth being the reason for living. To end the ones controlling our thoughts and dividing us or tribalism and greed. I feel like we made something worth listening to and that’s all I feel like you can really hope for.

DAN FENTON The self titled record that we have available now on all streaming platforms was two different profound stages in my life all in the making of one record. When we began, Jarrad and I partied a fuck ton, and I was descending into some serious personal shit with alcohol. It was bad, I couldn’t get through a day without way too high of a blood alcohol level. Before we finished vocals on the record, I stayed up one night working and drinking, perhaps I had never stopped from how many nights before, who fucking knows. Anyhow, I died for 9 minutes on the side porch of my house. Fully shut down, fucking dead. Mind you, I didn’t want to die, I just didn’t know how to lay off the bottle. Woke up in the ICU surrounded by my band, my wife and what few friends I had left. At that moment Voltagehawk became a complete family to me. I spent a stint in rehab (Jarrad drove me) and that was several years ago now. When I got out I went back to finish the record, make some amends and chase this thing out for real. So that was some info on the first record. The new Album which is a 13 song space odyssey named Electric Thunder, after our beloved Electric Thunder Studio owned and operated by our resident space wizard producer Geoff Piller, was not so dramatic. After I got my shit together and my mind cleared up I began to write everyday like a mad man. Song after song after song came like never before. I think we cut 15 songs out before we settled on the final 13. Our process as a band is often for myself or one of the other dudes to present a bare bones or often finished idea to the band and we run it through the Hawk Filter. The Hawk Filter is just the decomposition and reconstruction of every rough idea till it fits us. Which is silly to say because if we like, it we do it, not a matter of genre worship. Shit’s good, do it. Always do what’s best for the song.

STRATA: Can your music personally be an open door to breath and bend in the world of artistic exploration? In Other Words… how comfortable are you as an artist exploring other types of music and creating projects that might be totally different than what you are creating now?

CHASE AROCHA There is so much great music in the world in so many styles, why shouldn’t we try to explore them all! I’m always trying something I haven’t done before, not always as a challenge, but I would hope it’s natural for people to do in art. We shouldn’t be the same people we were 2 years ago, let alone 10. I love jazz, Death Metal, and country music. If you can find a really fun and genuine way to blend those then that’s absolutely what you should do! Don’t be tied down to what kind of music you’re making and just make music.

DAN FENTON That’s all we do all day. Everything on this planet, and above it, and in it’s majestic seas and mountains, all these people of all the cultures of all the world and their energy and their culture all influence and musical inspiration is welcome. Our philosophy is never say no, and jump off the cliff, and pull yourself back up. Meaning: try all the musical options then settle on the one we believe is the most amazing. So much of our influence is from cinema and books, video games, you name it. I’ll pluck a support cable on every bridge I see ‘til I am dead just to see if it speaks to me. Sonically there are no fucking rules, and if you impose rules, fuck your rules. We love to create, to talk about creating and then to birth something new is beyond amazing.

STRATA: Are you open to change your style, genre even, and approach to how and what you create every time you enter a studio? Or do you find once you have a formula in place do you find it best to stay with what you know? Many times artists will change how they approach their songwriting and even their recording staff/producers.

CHASE AROCHA

Like I said before, I believe that you should just make music and with that should come constant experimentation. When we record we find sounds from all over the place. From children’s toy instruments, to skateboard wheels spinning to imitate rain. Our writing is kind of always evolving and changing. Dan is an amazing writer who literally has lyrics and melodies pouring out of his hands and face. Everyday he has new ideas and records and sends them to everyone. Jarrad is great at taking those riffs and making suggestions on how the structure could be of a song along with feel. I am obsessed with adding layers of guitars however I can, but I also write a lot and send tracks as well. Tyler is a tone junkie on the bass, filling in the bottom end and has such a great approach to being independent from the guitars with his lines. We send tracks back and forth to each other then we get in a room and flesh them out. The whole time in the process the songs are constantly changing and evolving into the sound we have. We are always open to change and never believe in the word No when discussing music and art. You try every idea and see what works and what doesn’t. Sometimes when one member has a vision of how a song should go and is trying to communicate that, you should respect his idea and see it through. If it doesn’t work that’s okay, we tried!

DAN FENTON Voltagehawk is ever evolving. As it stands, we spend way too much time trying to pigeon hole what people will refer to our sound as. I don’t care what you call it as long as it moves you. I listen to everything from John Coltrane and Tom Waits to Napalm Death and Motorhead, Antonio Lucio Vivaldi to Kamasi Washington. IDLES and Bad Brains. If you refuse to evolve as an artist, experimenting, growing, trying new methods, all these elements then you cannot grow as a human being. Too many people are happy where they are, just okay, making the same music that their dads made and trying to cosplay some kind of yesteryear. We don’t do that shit, we’re us, that’s it. We grow, when you hear the Electric Thunder for the first time you will understand everything. If you burn some sage next to a photo of Carl Sagan while you listen to Electric Thunder, you will see the cosmic river in your minds eye. The world is full of people with a blockage in their brain. They cannot see that this bullshit we call a life is just a series of labor for hire gigs that leave us rapidly in the middle. We’re trying to break away from it all and follow our feathers, our truth, our search for enlightenment on our hero’s journey. I’ll leave you with this. Know Thyself.

#voltagehawk

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ailuronymy · 5 years

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Hey, I follow a WC YouTuber called Moonkitti and she'd uploaded a video called "Warrior Names". She kinda slams traditionalism and also demonstrates she has no idea what exactly it is. Like she shows some prefixes as examples which has Tree and Dirt as acceptable and Jay isn't, despite the inverse being true. I know she mentions she's not against it in concept, but that it was being enforced to limit others' creativity, but I have really mixed feelings about it and wanted to know your opinions.

Hello there, Ruddles! I hadn’t heard of this person before but I went and watched this video and I think I understand where your mixed feelings might be coming from. This video is trying to do a lot of things but, in my personal opinion, it’s doing none of them particularly well.

There’s three major things happening all at once: 1. a legitimate personal reflection about how certain traditionalists acted towards this person in the past and how that impacted her (4:50; 6:20); 2. an incorrect and misleading explanation of what traditionalism even is and very clearly no understanding of why it appeals to people, and therefore very little empathy towards people who use the style; (5:13; 6:00); and 3. (from an outsider stance as someone who likes deconstructing arguments for fun) a fascinatingly messy argument both in favour of Erin Hunter while using Erin Hunter’s various (and typically more incompetent) choices as justifications for… everything and anything.

It’s a mixed bag to be sure! To start with, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying that some people who use the traditional style are jerks. It’s very true. I remember those days too. Some people genuinely did crash forum threads just to mock and belittle other people. It was terrible and I think it’s totally legitimate to be upset about that.

I think the argument that everyone who uses traditionalism behaves that way is bad faith, however, and I also question the confirmation bias happening at 6:54, because I only ever see people talking about traditionalism for themselves, because that’s the spaces I hang out in. I wonder if Moonkitti has ever actually looked for traditional forums and sites, or if she’s just taken for granted that they don’t exist and everyone who uses the style is waging their own personal crusade. That’s not something I endorse in any way, by the way. Don’t anyone do that.

The second topic is personally the most frustrating because at points she’s almost right. But her definitions are incorrect and explanations simplify in a way that isn’t helpful to anyone. She’s not trying to actually give an account of the style and then point out the ways it doesn’t work or shouldn’t exist or anything like that: she’s half understood the idea and gone, “That sounds dumb.” This is in fact what she claims traditionalists say about other styles (7:22), which I disagree with: traditionalism is based mostly on having a set framework in place and then fairly rigorously debating what works and doesn’t within that world set-up. Plenty of names that are traditional sound pretty silly, but that doesn’t mean we knock them back wholesale. The whole point of the style is there is a method. Making judgments based on looser qualities, like sound or flow or imagery, is more of a lyrical approach.

Anyway, she doesn’t even seem to have gone to the effort of learning about it herself before deciding to preach. I think that’s tacky. It’s exasperating to me, because it’s not like there aren’t a ton of resources out there: if nothing else, traditionalists are good like that! We love lists and archives and referring to rules we’ve written out. That’s one of the things she’s correct about. She frequently refers to the fact that traditionalism is fan-made (2:25; 3:59; 6:45), but she does so as if this is a bad thing, which it’s not. Traditionalists are aware it’s fan-made: we are, after all, the fans who made it. That’s the whole idea.

Which brings me to the third topic: she doesn’t seem to fully understand why traditionalism exists and why it brings joy to people who use it. That’s an issue, because much of her argument is based around “well, canon.” She mischaracterises traditionalists as people who are “taking things too seriously” for being creative–i.e., she recognises that the entirety of traditionalism is fan-made, but can’t seem to understand why fans would elect to create rules to follow; it seems to cancel out the creativity in her world-view. She also repeatedly refers to the fact that she doesn’t need a traditional system to enjoy the Warriors world (0:26; 7:17; 8:28; 9:05)–to which I reply, your mileage may vary–and seems to look down on people who are pulled out of the story by “a silly name,” unlike her or Erin Hunter, who don’t take things “seriously.”

The major problem I have with this approach is that it shows a fundamental misunderstanding of the value of good world-building–or even some idea of what it looks like. She claims a strict system would result in a boring story (which perhaps would be true for her, who knows: again, mileage may vary) (8:28), but the issue I have is that she says: “don’t get me wrong, warrior cats is not perfect, but the least of our troubles with the quality of these books is how strange these names are. Sure, Bouncefire sounds weird and doesn’t seem realistic, but if you’re worried about this story’s realism, consider the fact that we have about fifty cats who live together who barely gossip except if it’s about a housecat” (1:06).

She uses the word “realistic” throughout the whole video, as though the goal of using a traditional style is to make Warriors realistic, which in my opinion it’s not. Plausible, yes. Believable, yes. Cohesive, yes. But not realistic. These are, after all, talking cats with religion. I myself multiple times a year refer to the fact we’re all getting excited over “feral cats talking to stars in the forest.” There’s no pretense there! But the thing Moonkitti argues that actually makes me mad is that, because it’s not real, nothing matters.

And that’s absolutely horse-apples. It matters that the names in canon don’t have structure, because the world of Warriors doesn’t have structure and that is the underlying problem of the series. That is part of why the series is not well-written. The world doesn’t have structure or consistency in how it is built, and the run-on effect is that characters are frequently flat and their decisions–even their deaths–are regularly made meaningless by the world of the story. The world-building is inconsistent and poorly planned, and the run-on effect is that plots regularly force characters who are supposed to be intelligent or even an average amount of smart into being unbelievably stupid simply for the sake of furthering it, and the stakes of the stories are constantly forced to increase to squeeze any amount of impact out of the plots because the writing itself won’t do it.

There is no hierarchy from most to least when it comes to the quality troubles of Erin Hunter’s work. The issues in Warriors are not stand-alone. They are interconnected. It’s silly to pretend that transformative world-building, which is what traditionalism is, is somehow a superficial, ornamental thing and not simply another way for fans to mend some of what makes Warriors “not perfect,” like any other AU or fandom meta. Canon invented the name-change custom (7:43)–and repeatedly made it messy, and shameful, and had no idea what they wanted to go with. Traditionalism mended that and made it better. If you can recognise that the series isn’t perfect, I don’t think it’s a stretch to also recognise and acknowledge different ways of how fans react to and deal with those imperfections in fan-works, such as role-playing and fanfiction and OCs.

Moonkitti’s repetitions that this is a fantasy series and it’s not real so stop caring frankly reminds me a lot people who get uncomfortable and defensive when you analyse and discuss a piece of media in any kind of critical or thoughtful way and will tell you don’t be so serious. In my case, these people tend not to realise that, for me at least, this is fun--and it’s worthwhile and important to do. It’s also my actual job, in the daylight hours. (Here it’s just a hobby).

So tl;dr: Erin Hunter doesn’t take Warriors seriously–and that is the problem. The canon naming style is a symptom of how little effort Erin Hunter puts into consistent or meaningful world-building. Traditionalism exists as some fans’ attempt to craft a solution for themselves, and I include myself in that.

Moonkitti’s approach to explaining traditionalism from a place of 1. not being interested in understanding it and 2. being oddly defensive of Erin Hunter, the creative team behind all of canon’s terrible weird writing choices, rather than critical of said choices and choosing instead to blame fans for wanting canon to be better and then acting on that desire, feels a bit in bad faith to me. I’m sad to hear that she had such bad experiences with traditionalists in the past, because that’s awful, but I also feel strongly that it’s a good idea to know what you’re talking about before you step onto the stage like this.

For instance, she says, “There’s no real argument for why [certain] names [should] not be in the series,” (2:13), but, well. I’m here and this blog is my seven-years-and-counting argument. I like to think it’s often a persuasive one, too!

#good god this is long #ALSO it goes without saying but i'll say it just in case: no-one is to go to this person's channel and leave any kind of rude comment #i like to believe none of you would even think of that but i'm saying it now: don't.#if you don't like what she's said just move on and go do something nice. plant a flower. tell a friend you love them. do that kind of thing.

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years

Text

Science & Faith - Finale - Talos/Keller (Captain Marvel: AU)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Authors Note: See what I did 😉 Well, I don’t know what to say, my first complete series!! I got some more Talos/Keller in the works... So don’t fret, I’m not giving this man up entirely 😘❤ Oh god, I tried so hard to cut her damn Lore down because it was just gonna read like a guide to her race... I was somewhat successful... I think... Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. Except Maliyah and all her race Lore. I have to say I’m not completely sure of Supernova’s powers I just LIKE the idea of it being something to do with dying stars... That Lore is kinda twisted with my own. Slight lyrical liberties with ‘Color’ by Carly Pearce. Premise: So often told she didn’t belong on Xandar, and for so many different reasons. Now she has a way out... Is Maliyah brave enough to take Talos up on it..? Words: 6563 Warnings: Zip. (Assassination?)

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE USED Not Reader Insert

I give up, I surrender And be nice, 'cause this heart's a little tender You were right, I was wrong, boy Yes, I know that you knew it all along, boy Tried to tell me we belonged together, I knew better, I was like "no" I admit it, I'm a wild child looking for a hand to hold

I’ll be the lines, you be the color Just like the day and night need each other Life ain't as great without the other I’ll be the lines, you be the color you be the color

Oh, nothing feels like you, boy I don't know how you knew, boy

---

Oh, and there's a view I just can't describe No, I'm not there yet, just a few more steps, baby wait Okay, you can open your eyes

This is it, this is now, this is what I've been talking about Looking out, can't you see forever? Take my hand, just take it in This is a moment we won't forget On top of the world, here, together If there ever was a time for a perfect kiss, this is it

--- Maliyah zipped her jacket and popped her collar, rolling her sleeves down as far as they could go she actually looked half presentable as she entered the meeting room. The conversational lul was quiet... She stopped at one end of the table, frowning and pointed to the empty chairs; “Where are...???” Talos and his lieutenants were noticeably absent. “Well, seen as we don’t seem to be able to come to a satisfying conclusion with them here, I decided we would have a debate without them. Then we give them our final answer.” Maliyah nodded and walked slowly to her seat, this was all her fault and she knew it. She was bringing her personal life into her professional one and if she didn’t do something, she was about to screw this up for two races. Neither of which were hers. She sat, noticing how Yoel almost ignored her. Oh, so he wasn’t happy with her either?! Figures. Reis hasn’t arrived yet... Maliyah took a deep breath. She could do this; she could get through this. Reis arrived, and he wouldn’t take his eyes of her. That stare coupled with that smirk meant trouble... It was times like this she wished Garthan was still around. He wasn’t. Maliyah was back to defending herself. The only non-Xandarian of the Nova Corps. Reis wasn’t down for that, and he was even less down with the races of her significant others... Nova Prime sighed deeply; “As of right now, we have no conclusion. And quite frankly I’m sick of it. They deserve nothing less than a straight answer and this political bickering is embarrassing.” She gave Maliyah a sharp stare “I expect better from you.” Even though she was addressing the table as a whole Maliyah winced – time to make her decision. “I know you do.” Nova Prime looked a little taken aback. It took a lot for Maliyah to swallow her pride. Yoel shifted. Aha... all she needed was him back on side... That was all she needed... “I expect better from myself. I’m not pretending to speak for the table. I understand we have only just fought and lost a great deal to the Kree. But that does not mean we should be uncivil to the Skrulls.” She took a breath; “It should never have got to the point where you felt the need to call this meeting. And I am disappointed in myself and my actions.” Maliyah folded her arms, “I realise I have a great deal of influence as your military leader and I have abused that power. There have been many good ideas around this table that I have rejected for personal reasons. That was stupid. And I retract all previous statements. I retract my right to veto anything that comes from this, and I am almost tempted to tell you I should leave... I should have no power here...” Her eyes flicked to Reis, to how smug he looked at her admitting she was wrong. That was exactly what he wanted. She was about to wipe that off his face though. “They need us. I think we need them.” His face fell, looking like she’d just betrayed him. Those on the fence would sway with her, she’d seen it happen in the past few days alone. Reis’ little bit of power was slipping through his fingers. She turned back to Nova “...Give them what they are asking for. In honestly it isn’t much.” An alliance between races didn’t have to cost either a thing… But, Maliyah had ideas of her own. She tipped her head “Though I’d bargain on that light speed engine… We need something like that... I’ll work on it.” She tapped her fingernails against the desk in thought. Talos would probably agree on giving her something. And something that fast – she might need a back-up plan for when her own race came calling… At this, Yoel swivelled his chair and stared at her, she looked back to him and waited for him to smile; “I wondered when you’d start seeing sense!” Reis wasn’t having it. He tried not to let his anger show on his face, calling all attention back to him; "Blue to Green? I don't think we can trust our Denarian to do anything but date her way through the colour spectrum. I move for a vote of no confidence.” The whole room fell into an awkward silence. Maliyah just folded her arms and pursed her lips. Really? He wanted to play this game? Well, she guessed she had ignited a vote of no confidence in herself… Of course he’d make a play. "I think with some semblance of humanity there, you've missed out a colour..." "Not if he was never human." "... Then that's consistency; a far more trustworthy trait than political backstabbing." Ah-! That made him back down. He sat back in his seat, staring murder at her. Nova Prime sighed; “Maliyah… I want you to know… These personal reasons of yours, that both you and Reis speak of…” Maliyah swivelled back in her seat, biting her lip gently. She was aware that even with her jacket pulled up, it was still virtually impossible to miss the lights crossing her skin. “…They are not an issue. I understand why you made them such. And I appreciate your honesty in knowing you were wrong to make them one.” Maliyah bowed her head; “I made hot headed decisions out of spite. And… For that, and what it means for Xandar, for these negotiations I can only apologise…” Yoel looked pretty proud of her, but Nova Prime just smiled; “I feel it is not us you should be apologising to…” Maliyah received another significant look from her partner. “Oh-! Well… I guess you’re right!” *** She re-entered an empty apartment and sighed. She could only blame herself… She unzipped her jacket and rolled her sleeves up. Would he come back? Would he come back to her? He was probably at other meetings. She guessed Nova Prime would call upon them to discuss the final verdict. Then Maliyah would have to try the prospect of the lightspeed engine proposal on him… She wasn’t sure how he’d take that. Another thing to help her run away?? Well, what if it wasn’t him she was running from? She was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed watching the sky when Talos returned. He noticed she did this a lot. Far more than on Earth. “What do you keep looking for?” She shrugged “Something’s coming. Always is... Earth was the only place I never felt that. And look what happened... There I could just watch the stars.” He crossed her apartment and sat in front of her, if only to pull her attention away from the sky. “I owe you an apology...” “What? What for?” She gave him a look, like he was just being polite; “Everything.” She steepled her hands in front of her lips “I’m sure they’ll tell you everything is resolved; the deal is finalised. You’re getting everything you asked for. I’m sorry for standing in the way of that.” “You had reasons.” “Yeah, that weren’t good enough reasons and I should have kept to myself... I’m their Denarian and their Supernova I should know I sway everything here... You talk so much about fixing this... I decided I needed to fix something myself.” “What is a Supernova? To you. The significance of me calling you that is far more than just a name...” She indicated to his wrist “You’re wearing part of it.” He looked to the fine chain, the North Star looking pendant she always called a Nova. “My brother gave it to me... I gave it to you. He was the original Supernova… It fell to me, but I’m not Xandarian... He knew his limits. The fact that no-one knows mine is scary. To them.” He held his wrist up “So what is this? The source of that power?” Maliyah took his hand in hers so that the star fell between them; “No... The two pieces together... That energy? As far as I know, we’re talking a real supernova.” His face scrunched like he was trying to process that information “…You’re… Talking about yourself?” She nodded slowly; “I am now… You’re meant to keep me grounded. The significance of you with my Nova star should not be taken lightly.” She took his other hand “So don’t you dare go dying on me!” He raised an eyebrow "Is that your version of I love you?" She narrowed her eyes slightly with a wry smile; “The last time I told someone I loved them he wasn’t who he said he was.” ** Maliyah could sense it before it happened. Strolling through the Capital with Talos just to get used to him. She needed to know him as well as she knew Keller. They were technically the same person... But nothing about them was similar... His love for her, maybe. But the way his feelings presented themselves to her - she had to get used to all of Talos' nuances. So she just made him walk and talk to her. Maliyah didn't have to concentrate on anything but his voice; allowing herself to get wrapped up in him. “…What happened to you?” “Hmm?” “The day I left, what happened to you?? Even if you got shot, you’d bleed…?” He laughed, and his genuine amusement sent another wave of gorgeous sparkles across her skin; “Oh. No. Not bullets. More… energy.” “Energy!?” “The same kind of energy in fact that powers the engine. Only... in a more condensed form.” She was clearly trying to figure out how that worked in her head. Accepted she couldn’t. Was impressed he could take a hit from a mini infinity stone and changed subject, slightly; “Wait - you were there for the drive?!” “No... I helped make the drive. Well, commissioned the drive - for my people.” “So how long did that take?” “Well... Let’s just say Keller didn’t become a Director overnight… I’d have given the drive up and stayed for you, you know?” “I figured. Would you ever have told me?” “Whether you believe me or not I tried many times. But... Jonathan to you was... Everything... and I... I didn’t want to take him away from you.” “Well, I guess in a weird way, he’s still here...” Maliyah was not a true empath. She could only ever feel everything from her significant other. But if the feeling from someone else was intense enough - if it was so out of place, she could sense it. And on this sunny afternoon, walking down the promenade and absentmindedly watching other lovers and families go about their days, she felt it. It was close. And it made her uneasy. It pulled her out of her focus on him. Maliyah turned; the problem was nothing looked out of place. Everyone seemed to be going about their business happily. But it was something; an uneasy, panicked feeling. She ran forward a few steps and turned, so she could still talk to Talos - walking backward. She slowed herself, making him slow his walk - by the look on his face he knew something was up too - but she had to make this natural. How else was she supposed to find out who or what it was? Then she spotted him. Not because he was trying to stand out, but because he wasn't. And not only was he trying to be inconspicuous, as the crowd moved around him and he weaved - he only kept his eyes on one thing. And she realised with horror that that one thing was Talos. Oh - HELL no. The crowd fluctuated again and she lost him. Now this was bad... Maliyah picked up her pace again, instinctively trying to distance him, Talos followed no questions asked. Her colours ran over her skin where it was exposed in vibrant warning lights and her eyes were alert. She wasn't pay attention to his talking, but he kept the conversation flowing to appear natural. Maliyah sprinted forward - yanking Talos back and out of the way, despite the fact he was bigger than her, she slammed her shoulder into the guy; he was winded and floored in seconds. And her Yaka arrow was in his face. Oh-! Talos almost smirked, now she was using it to defend him? That was sure an interesting turn of events. The weapon the assassin had been carrying skittered across the floor as the crowd froze and parted to see what was happening. "What the hell was that you just attempted!?" He wasn't a real assassin; she could feel his panic now. It was a cheap move and it hadn't paid off. With that arrow in his face Maliyah wasn’t surprised he could barely speak - she squinted. He wasn't going to get away with that. He cried out in pain as the arrow began to dig into his skin at her insistence; "I could just kill you, of course." She stood back, "That would be a violation of several Nova Corp rules and I'd probably be sanctioned. But it’s not half as bad as what YOU just attempted." "He is a killer!" The man spat "He deserves to die." Was he Kree? On Xandar…? "You've got about 10 seconds to change your opinion." He whimpered as the arrow began to draw blood. Talos reached for her "Maliyah." It was like he snapped her from her anger, "Do not end his life on my account..." It was as much a swell of pride as surprise that she would. She was serious. About making this work. He didn't think she'd ever let Keller go... That she would ever accept him. But here she was. She took a deep breath; pulling the Yaka arrow back a few inches. Tapping her coms "Nova Corp. Arrest made in sector 3. Immediate escort to the Kyln necessary." She called her arrow back in disgust as she heard dispatch send out ships to her location. "This so called murderer just saved your life. Asshole." Talos had to be quick to follow her through the crowd. She was pissed, they were here on political asylum and someone had just tried to kill him!? Was there literally no end? Would it never be over...!? She realised she was tired... of everything... He caught her arm; "Mali... Mali wait..." She turned back to him; "I'm sorry." He was taken aback; for what? "Sorry? Maliyah. You just saved my life." She blinked a few times; before giving him a crooked smirk - "Yeah. Don't get too used to it." He shook his head; he knew she didn't mean it the way it'd come out. She was still about that front. But it was an ever increasingly flimsy front. "What are you sorry for?" She looked around her; "I'm just tired..." "Of what?" "Of war... of all this political nonsense... of races... fighting over EVERYTHING. I don't want to live this. It's why I left Xandar in the first place. Only, Ravagers aren't much better... So I went exploring. And then I found Earth - and – I just... Earth gave me something so real..." she shook her head, and gave a gentle smile, that extended to the sparkle in her eyes and the soft colours in her skin. Genuine happiness "Earth gave me you." Talos opened his mouth; but realised no words would do that moment justice. He realised it then, what he thought he had before, but looking at her now it was just so clear. Maliyah Saal had really fallen for him. The real him. *** “You want the lightspeed engine?!” “No. No… Not the actual engine just something like it.” “Why!? So, you can run away again.” She sighed, but there was a smile there – she knew he was teasing her this time “…No! Not exactly.” “That sounds like a yes-! What did I do this time!” “Stop it!” She placed her hands on the table – currently they were looking at holograms of tech. It had started as a tactical discussion. It was fast becoming something else “Nothing-! I’m thinking of me. My race. My planet.” “…?” He tilted his head “What?” “You know eventually they’ll come after me and drag me back home. I figure if I can’t beat ‘em, and certainly won’t be joining them… Then running as fast as possible across the galaxy is probably the best option.” He chuckled; “Alone?” “I didn’t say that!” “That’s what it sounded like.” She tried her best to look grumpy as she rounded the table, pointing at him “Now, alone is no good for me is it!?” “Are you telling me this about your planet to try to get me to give up on you?” “…No!” He crossed over to her, with a little smirk; “Good. Because it kinda sounds like you’re giving me an excuse to leave…” He placed his hands delicately on her shoulders “But… I don’t want to leave. You and your race and all those problems we can work through… Right? I’m down. I’m ready when you’re ready. Don’t rush this for me…” He placed his forehead to hers again “I love you. Do this at your own pace. I’m always gonna wait for you…” Maliyah pulled back from him for a minute, shaking her head gently, she knew that already. He already had… She smiled, pulling him towards her and into a kiss; “You should be done waiting…” ** Talos watched her stare absentmindedly out over the port as his lieutenants continued to move about the dock, resupplying the ship; "Don't you ever think maybe it’s time for another change?" They were standing by his ship; now everything on Xandar was finalised he really had little reason to stay. And he certainly didn’t want to outstay the welcome. "You look like you need one..." She folded her arms and tilted her body back "Oh? Really? Any suggestions?" He frowned “You don’t belong here. Maliyah.” “…So, what? I belong with you…” It took him far too long to realise what part of that sentence was a question. When he did realise he had an instant idea; "That’s-! That's not a bad idea! Maliyah-!" Talos took her hands in his "Come back with me.” "Huh? How?!" "Well, someone from Xandar surely needs to check we're keeping up our end of the bargain on this treaty right? We could do some kind of political consulate... swap... That works? Right?" She studied his face very carefully, before she laughed, and she kept laughing until tears were in her eyes "You're serious! Oh my gosh! You're serious!" He watched her look back to him in wonder, and he nodded in confirmation "I've never been more serious about anything." Nova Prime looked between them with a smile; "I don't see a problem with that." They looked to each other with wide eyes - it shouldn’t have been that easy? Should it?! Why was it that easy!? She chuckled; "Maliyah, darling. I have known you for far too long. Could I really ever have stopped you from leaving." Maliyah chewed her lip for a second; "Well... My duty is to the Nova Corp. As I hold the Nova Force.... I just.... I should be here..." She had to admit it. "Perhaps the Nova Force being kept separate to an Infinity stone would be a good thing. Two great sources of power here may cause problems.... You are correct. Of course. But, we can make it work... Who would you have take over for you?" "Day has always been the better Denarian. It’s time we gave him the full title." "You will come back whenever we call you." It also wasn't a question. Maliyah nodded; "Yes M'am." Nova Primes eyes flicked to Talos; “That will work with your people?" He nodded, but didn't have much of a choice "We shouldn't need her for anything more than politics. I hope. That power would surely be useful..." His eyes flicked to Maliyah "But she isn’t one you want to bore or tie down." Maliyah almost snorted. She wasn't sure life with a shapeshifting race could ever be boring.... "Now on that we certainly agree. Very well, Maliyah. I will see your complete hand over to Denarian Day... And then you are free to leave as a Xandarian Emissary for the Skrulls." They both bowed "Thank you M'am." Turning to leave Nova Prime called her back; "Maliyah... Just hold on a minute..." She stopped, But Talos respectfully took his leave. "M'am?" Nova Prime approached and gently took Maliyah’s face in her hands "My darling girl. I have known you since you were very small. You are not of Xandar. But you will always be Xandarian. I am proud of the woman you have become. Your parents are proud of the woman you are... I know Garthan would be the proudest.... He might not have ever said it, far be it from Garthan to do so, but my darling... He was. He always was." Maliyah couldn't help beaming "T-Thank you... That is an honour." Prime smiled; "Maliyah Saal - wherever this universe takes you, and with whomever you chose - you will always be our Supernova." Talos was standing just down the corridor when she left, and Maliyah sprinted to him, slowing to a stop with a smile that he couldn't help but mirror. "So, you're officially coming back?" "Officially. I’m a political mission, General." "Of course. We shall have to be very serious about this." "I am serious about this." He nodded "No doubt..." Maliyah entwined her fingers with his; "But your planet. I want to know EVERYTHING! Tell me everything I need to know!" *** Before she left, Maliyah had one more thing she needed to do. She had arranged to meet Reis in the Corp HQ, so she could tell him the news. He still gave her that same look of distaste. He’d never be happy until she was no longer Xandar’s problem... “Looks like you’re about to get your wish.” He raises an eyebrow and tilted his head questioningly; “I will no longer be Denarian of the Nova Corp effective tomorrow. Instead all duties will be handed to Day as a true Denarian just like my brother was...” “And you think that makes me happy?” “I wasn’t finished! I will also be leaving Xandar. I have a new mission and new orders - so you’re going to be rid of me. Likely once and for all. Surely that’s got to make you a bit happy?” He couldn’t help but smile a little. “And where will you go? With them?” “Not that you have any reason to have a problem with that Reis... Not that you should have any reason to have a problem with the Skrulls at all. But, I guess the threat of another War is too much for you, is it? Or is a war just what you want…? Is that why you did it?” He looked back to her; eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?!” “See, I’m proud of this, Reis. Of what my race has the capability to do. Of these colours. So, I really hope you’re proud of yourself...” Maliyah could sense his panic even though Reis looked controlled; he was trying to keep so composed... ”I don’t know what you-” ”Cut it. I know I don’t have proof. But I know you’re responsible... And that it didn’t work...” It shouldn’t have surprised her that all paths on this attempted assassination currently led to Reis. It wasn’t just about how it would affect the treaty... But how much it would hurt her too... She turned away from him; “We’re done here.” but she flicked her eyes over her shoulder; “But I’m never going to stop looking for that proof... So watch your back.” “You have no power here anymore...!You’re not even Xandarian!” She shook her head as she walked away from him; “See Reis there is your problem. I wasn’t born here... You’re right. But Xandar is my home. I have a duty to my home that I will fulfil. And the fact that you can’t do that, makes me more Xandarian than you will ever be...” *** It was good to be back amongst the stars. Saying goodbye might have been hard but Maliyah knew it wouldn’t be forever, she would come back to Xandar every so often. But the explorer in her felt most at home here... The light speed technology clearly didn’t extend to all ships. But she would rather have the time to think about her decision than watch her beloved stars blur by... Talos let her stand alone and think about it, and almost didn’t bother her for the duration of the trip. Waiting for the tension to work itself out of her, until she at least looked more relaxed. He didn’t have her gift for sensing emotions but he could read her body well. She didn’t truly relax until they came upon the planet itself. Like she was accepting that there was no going back now. Talos joined her. “How are you feeling?” She leant her head against the window frame “Like I made the right choice? I’ve never been here before… I’m thinking of how much I get to discover for myself.” That was the adventurer in her talking “And you’re here. So I think I’m gonna be just fine.” He laughed. He’d certainly take that. The ship descended into atmosphere and he watched her face closely. He loved coming back home; but she was seeing this for the very first time and he was desperate to know her reaction. Maliyah’s eyes widened in joy, it had to be at the way colour flashed across her skin, and she couldn’t take it all in fast enough. The planet was covered in what appeared to be lush green forest areas, grasses of different species, she could see for miles upon miles - to the mountains raised in the distance and the great glassy lake reflecting the sun. Every so often cities raised themselves up, all with great glass structures. They had built up instead of out. Preserving as much of the planet’s natural beauty as possible. An almost seamless blend of technology and nature. Talos had to look back at it for just a minute, so he could imagine what was racing through her mind... “Take the war away from the planet, everything grows back…” But he couldn’t help it; “So, tell me, did you make the right choice?” She didn’t answer, but a smile spread across her face “Ah-! That’s a smile!” Maliyah pushed his arm; “Shut up! It was NOT a smile!” He didn’t believe her for a second, and worse, now she was blushing… * Maliyah Saal was not one for thinking she made many mistakes. But her first month was a hard period of adjustment. Everything about the Skrulls was different from everything she’d ever known. Immersing herself in the culture wasn’t hard – but they were all so interested in her, she found herself answering the same set of questions ten thousand times. She could only cope with so much at a time before she got overloaded. Talos knew this and he shadowed her, giving her just enough space to explore as independently as she wanted, but always close by when he felt she needed rescuing. She was always welcome for the respite of just being alone with him and letting herself get as wrapped in his emotions as she had with Keller. It was so different and yet so familiar, and it was a sensation she never wanted to fade… Sometimes he would let her take Keller back. And that was comfortable. There was something else in that he would do that for her… But that wasn’t her life anymore… “Please stop doing this…” She took his hands in hers, sincere “…You don’t have to do this for me anymore…” She bit her lip, as she so often did, to suppress her smile – but what was the point in that when the lights flashing across her skin so often gave her away? “…He is not the man I want…” Eventually she got culture shock. It was too much and she would spend excessive time alone. To counteract that, Talos took her back to the stars. The trips were short, because Maliyah promised herself she wouldn’t leave until she’d explored every inch of his planet. Still, it was amongst the stars that his Supernova belonged. She always looked at home here. He was in tune with her enough to know, she might have been tied to Keller on Earth but she would never have stayed. She was far too tough to tie down. Maliyah was made to explore. Talos was determined to make the most of that. To make sure if her race ever came looking she would never be found. “…You want to save me from my race?” “…Yes. Because I know I can.” Talos tilted his head “Maliyah, you weren’t made to go back there. And it would be a travesty to let them take you away now.” His look was defiant “They will not take you from me.” *** “I was told I’d find you here” Maliyah was starring around the room with interest; “I was told this is where Skrulls come to practice shifting…” “We do.” He studied her carefully, she really was getting into this... “…Well then…” She looked up at the ceiling; and took slow, deliberate steps “What are you doing here.” Ending her walk at the open window, Maliyah leant on the sill. “You know. Sometimes I can’t get over it.” “What?” “…My kind was made – MADE – to traverse the stars and combine DNA with other races… Everything about how we are made is tied to that notion. Even down to the way we have children…” She turned from looking at the scenery to look at him “…Yet we became so insular? We’re explorers – but now it’s all about purity…” She turned back with a sigh; “…When Aurons started leaving home they did it to bond… To find that perfect DNA match. And your DNA… that’s almost perfect. But it’s so discouraged now, if home calls me back what would I be good for? What would my children really be good for? Bloodline purity? The age-old ways of my race were never about that.” Talos joined her, “…Your race… Are you telling me your race is compatible with all others?” “If all the markers in both parents’ DNA is correct. Then yes.” “…You’re talking about children again.” Maliyah scoffed “So were you.” She turned to him; “Yes. But it’s not an exercise in intercourse. Intercourse will not result in anything. My DNA will simply reject yours… It will create colour, but not life. A real DNA bond is a two-way consensual street.” “Meaning what?” She raised an eyebrow; “You’re ready for that?” “Aren’t you?” “…I thought I’d highlighted the significance of what our children would mean…” She gave a shrug “But now I’m here…” She relaxed herself against the railing, regarding him coolly – “…It requires your blood to mix with mine. Your DNA becomes a part of my very existence. However… MY DNA must also become a part of yours.” Apparently this information didn’t deter him “How?” “That’s really up to you, isn’t it... It needs to be a serious decision and commitment because it is an irreversible one.” “All I’m hearing out of your mouth is not now but later.” Maliyah smiled – oh, he knew her far too well – with a nod; “Not now… But later.” ** As the months continued to pass, they only continued to grow closer. Maliyah revelled in this kind of intimacy; she'd never loved or been loved like this before. The closer they got and the further their bond strengthened, the more Talos noticed she started to pick up. His language was almost second nature to her now, and there were times when Maliyah would forgo the universal transmitter completely. She didn't need it. He'd offered to try to learn hers, but she'd just laughed. Maliyah decided to teach him basic Xandarian; but her language was a waste of time – For Auron’s, their lights meant sometimes they didn't need words… It was all a little too good to last. He knew she'd be called to Xandar eventually... And late one evening that call came. "We are under attack-- Maliyah we need you to go come back - - they are after the infinity stone...!" “…I gotta go…” “Right now!? Right this second!?” Talos was only halfway dressed before she attempted to walk out of the door; “If it’s the infinity stone they need me – my planet needs me!” It struck him that she didn’t say home… "Don't you need the lightspeed engine?" "No..." She turned to him; "I can get there pretty quick. But I do appreciate the offer...!" He threw his jacket on "Should I come anyway?" Maliyah shook her head, taking her hands away from the door she turned back to him; "I am not risking your life for Xandar... You belong here. They need you here." "You need me too..." Talos placed his hands gently on her arms, making her lean up to kiss him with a smile; "I know. But I can't let you come with me...." He took her hands "Then come with me. Let me show you something. " "Do I have time?" He was already pulling her down the corridor "Yes! It's a good place for you to set off from too!!" Talos knew this much, Xandar needed Maliyah because she was their Supernova... He didn't know nearly enough about the powers she had under that responsibility. But that would probably be what got her there... And he guessed his shooting star could fly. She followed him cautiously; even though he was moving at pace. Maliyah guessed he knew the urgency that was needed back on Xandar. But before she left there was just one more thing he had to show her... They continued on a path out from the city on a slow incline. In the months that she’d been here she wondered why the hell he hadn’t shown her this before?! Maybe he was waiting for the right time?? Talos hesitated at the edge of the forest area and turned to her; “... Close your eyes.” She stopped and tilted her head with a raised eyebrow. He held out his hand; “Don’t worry I got you.” Maliyah smiled, closing them without question and lacing her fingers with his “I know you do...” she breathed, and let him pull her gently. She could feel the warmth of the sunrise as he led her gently. “Okay. Open them.” She did so slowly, and breathed, hands covered her mouth as she gasped. And she thought she’d seen beautiful from the atmosphere. Talos smiled, taking in the view for himself “This has got to be my favourite place on the whole planet...” The edge of the cliff opened out onto the Great Lake below, waterfalls running into it throwing colours as the sun just caught them enough to sparkle. The sky was clear, and as the closest star began to burn in the sky, the evening stars melted away. “... and now I get to share it with you...”That wasn’t a significance lost on her as she grasped his hand tighter, she couldn’t say anything. But she didn’t need to... “Look you got your thing with Xandar, I’ve got my thing going on. But it’s okay… We’ll do our own things, but we’ll always have THIS and we’ll always have each other.” Maliyah bit her lip at his sudden seriousness “Promise me you’re gonna be here when I’m done...” Talos turned to her with a gentle sigh, “I can’t promise I’ll be here. But I can promise I’ll always find you.” he held up his wrist, that gorgeous Nova Star. She took a step back with a sigh “... I don’t know how long this is going to take.” “Take your time. Maliyah. I can wait on you... I’ll always wait on you.” “I’ll aim not to keep you waiting forever...” She gave a smile and closed her eyes again. This time when her lights flickered, they were in blue and yellow. The star around his wrist glinted – it was obvious to him now, the two were connected. Her eyes were much bluer when she opened them; with a gold sheen, and she very slowly lifted herself from the ground. “Stay safe!” Talos couldn’t help but smile that she’d addressed him in Skrull. She was getting good at that. “If you do.” She laughed, “…Fair bargain.” Maliyah hovered out over the edge of the lake and sighed; “I’m gonna miss you!” “You haven’t even left!” He laughed; “Go hurry on and save your damn planet so you can get back here then!!” And he said it like it was so obvious. Maliyah gave him one last gentle nod as she turned to leave but she wasn’t even half way to the atmosphere before she was turning back. She pulled herself closer to him, radiating heat and energy. She was right - she held the power of a dying star... She ran her hands over the markings on his skin, and kissed him gently. When Maliyah broke it she placed her forehead against his. Hands still on him. She felt like the warmth of the sun too. He decided whoever was attacking Xandar had a world of hell coming… And they probably deserved it. But Talos didn’t expect for her to mimic the same purring sound he had. He almost froze. Hang on... Maliyah let him go, and floated back to over the lake, and the smile on her face said the same thing he had as Keller when he’d done it for the very first time; I love you... Suddenly she looked like she’d remembered something and began rummaging through her jacket “Oh! Yeah! If you’re saying we’re compatible…” She threw him a small glass vial. The liquid contained within was thick, blueish-purple, just like her eyes. “Prove it!” He looked a little confused as he looked back to her. She gave him a wink “When the time is right... well, you’ll know what to do.” Was she saying what he thought she was saying..??! “D-don’t you need m-my blood for this?!” Talos felt lightheaded for a moment just thinking about that. She didn’t just love him. That wasn’t all this was about anymore... Maliyah gave him a mysterious smile that made him think she might already have it. Back on Xandar they’d run many security tests, including on his bloodwork. She gave a gentle shrug but didn’t say another word. She hesitated once more, then sighed. Leaning in for one last kiss; just one more and she could do this… And she would come back… With that and her eyes telling him everything she couldn’t say, she turned. Illuminating in a soft white-to-yellow glow… Starlight… Maliyah forced herself not to look back as she shot towards the atmosphere. Talos watched her arc across the sky with a smile. She was still the most beautiful shooting star he’d ever seen. The brightest supernova.

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I just want you all to be sure, that now we’re clearly linked back to Avengers: Infinity War canon, she’s gonna be okay... He’s gonna get her to Carol and they’re gonna go kick ass on Earth....

#Talos x OC #Talos #I don't get to tag Keller if Keller is no longer a feature. Right?#Captain Marvel #Ben Mendelsohn #MCU AU #Captain Marvel AU #I don't think we can trust our Denarian to do anything but date her way through the colour spectrum.#Giggling over writing that line #This Is It is so Krennic but it worked... it just WORKED for this #wow guys I finished it!#And it's not a half bad ending??? I think???#Is it too neat!?! I dunno...#I feel like there's more too this... but... hmmmm...#I did a last second change on Reis. Because I didn't LIKE it being too neat.#Progressive!!! Well done me. Leave it open!#Science & Faith #Maliyah #30

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