#ive said it once but at no turn was she in pursuit of love

[hiatuswhore]

Viper IV

Reputation: The Princess of Conde, said to be a lover of games. Perhaps chess, a game requiring one to think many steps ahead and anticipate your enemies next move. For every missteps brings you closer and closer to defeat.

VIPER III: Versatility

YOU NEVER KNEW FRENCH COURT TO BE SO DULL. The privy council drolling on about issues they will never resolve. No plots or ploys, you settle on a ceasefire allowing the Queen Consort a period of reprieve. You busy yourself with strolls with Sebastian and feigning interest in many high Lord's pursuits of your hand. This does not stop the Queen Mother from focusing on your every movement. Nor are you a fool to the servant in your ranks who reports to her. All information they receive perfectly curated to your liking.

Sitting at your vanity, you huff like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Whispers containing scandals so minuscule you are certain the histories will write you as the first to truly die from boredom.

“Dahlia, any news on the parchment I sent to my brother?” You ask. The shake of your handmaiden’s head garnering another huff. “He wants me to come home, but I have far too much to do here.”

“Princess, you must stop fussing so I can finish your hair,” Dahlia’s silvery voice and gentle touch gaining an apologetic smile. The light tapping of your chamber door stills your handmaiden, your head turning toward the door. Dahlia crosses the room. Opening it, she bows respectfully before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.

“My King,” You rise to your feet, a grin on your lips as you curtsy. Francis chuckles, shaking his head as you ask what you can do for him.

“My wife seems to believe you have a vendetta against her. I am no fool of the deep care you hold for your brother. This afternoon you will invite her on your evening stroll, just the two of you,” Your head tilts to the side, a wide smile taking your features, hiding the thorns beneath rosy-colored petals.

“While I admit I was not very fond, I thought to have clarified my intentions with your wife. Very well, we will have a lovely evening at once,” Clasping your hands in front of you, stepping forward, you peck his cheek. His nose grazes your cheek as he turns to meet your gaze.

“We are not children anymore. You know this is not appropriate,” His words leave him in a breathy whisper. You wet your lips, offering a warm smile.

“I meant nothing untoward, Francis. You are dear to me. I would never have you jeopardize your honor,” Only run it off a cliff, the heat of his skin warming your own at the proximity. His head tilts forward so slightly you nearly miss it as he stiffens. You pull away first, brushing past him with a knowing smirk.

The long corridor from your chambers holds a sea of faces that matter little as you make your way to the kitchens. Fetching to chalices of wine, your smiles large as Mary and Catherine’s eyes land on you. They stand in the throne room, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

“Queen Mother. Her grace. My apologies for the intrusion. I hoped to steal the Queen for a stroll. I even brought us wine,” You say, holding out the chalice. Silence dances between the three of you. Both Catherine and Mary eye the cup in your hand warily, the smile on your lips wicked. She knows she cannot refuse. To do so slights the Princess of Conde--another slight against the De Bourbon family, her kin-in-law.

“Of course, Princess,” Mary swallows thickly, her voice wavering as her fingers brush your own against the cup. She glances at Catherine a final time before joining your side. You wear a kind smile, your airy aura filling the halls. You ramble to Mary just as you do with a dear friend, noting how the chalice in her hands has stayed there.

“What a lovely day. Isn’t it lovely?” Stepping outside, you turn to Mary, her strained smile and stiff posture fueling your amusement. Catherine stands with Francis on the second-floor terrace watching the two of you.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mary mutters, following your toothy smile up the terrace. She’s greeted with differing expressions. Francis wears one of encouragement as Catherine stands as though a guillotine awaits.

“Mary, you are not very good at this game. You went to Francis of your fears, rightful fears, but now here we are. Let me help you understand your particular situation. This is a game of reputation. I very publicly invited you to wine and a stroll. The part the people do not know is that it is at the King's behest. Now imagine if word spreads, you refused my efforts for peace after all you brought upon my brother? What a lecherous cunt,” You scoff, speaking barely above a whisper, shaking your head, a smile painting your lips. Mary’s eyes narrow, her shoulders falling at her side. Stepping into the trap before it was even set.

“I am the Queen. You are my subject in my court!” The ferocity of her tone unlike anything you ever expected of her. You would have commended her in another life, but now your smile falls as you stumble back. Mary’s frown distinct as your eyes well with tears. You shift your gaze down sharply, cowering like a frightened child—the antithesis of your nature.

“My apologies, your grace. Will you excuse me?” You curtsy, wiping the faux tear from your cheek. Mary’s eyes bounce around the open grass field. Ladies and Lords alike lounge around different fixtures watching the exchange. Realization cuts through like a blade to skin, your sorrow not reaching your eyes. Oh, how this game suits you.

“Princess,” Mary breathes out, watching as you fiddle with your fingers. The comely and giving Princess standing before the aggressor, the cruel Queen.

“My apologies, your grace. I know our histories are—” You cry out, the approaching mop of blonde hair arriving with impeccable timing.

“Mary, a word,” The clench of the King’s jaw clear despite the mask of calm he wears. You offer a respectful curtsy heading back toward the castle with your head low. Inside, Catherine greets you with a sneer; taking her hands, you smile.

“I detest you. You wretched girl,” Catherine squeezes your hands tights, to onlookers a warm exchange between family. The Queen Mothers' smile as warm and deceitful as your own.

“Oh, Catherine. To hate me is to hate yourself. I learned all I know from watching you,” You lean forward, kissing both her cheeks. The softening of her glare was not lost on you before excusing yourself. Like wildfire, the word spread of your exchange; invitations of tea and strolls pouring into your chamber like water to a glass.

By noon, you receive word of a private family supper. You naturally assume it to be the workings of Francis but still consider others. While Mary navigates your game as well as a blind man at sea, you await Catherine to guide her hand. You wear a courteous smile as the hundredth invite for tea arrives, your empty promises of soon arranging a meeting becoming almost instinctive.

“(Y/n)!” Your eyes widen at the squeal. Claude rushes down the corridor, her arms wide open. She nearly tackles you to the ground in a hug, squeezing so tight it may very well suffocate you.

“Thank god! This place is so terribly boring,” You exclaim, stepping off to the side. Claude smirks. “I was so upset to learn I had just missed by mere hours the day I arrived.”

“I hear my brother's wife made you cry, and I know for certain that is not the case. You must tell me your machinations at once,” Claude whispers, leaning in close. The two of you stop at the corner, appearing like giddy children.

“That would spoil the fun dear cousin!” You say, crossing your arms and mirroring her smirk.

“The Scottish Queen is doomed then, but that must wait. We have much to catch up on,” Claude hooks her arm in your own. She leads you down the hall, her animated rambling taking the whole of the conversation as you listen intently.

“You slept with Ser Harlin?” You gasp, stopping in your tracks. The French Princess bit her bottom lip, grinning like a madwoman. She spares you not a single detail of her exploits with the pagan warrior, a burly man of few words.

“How have you not? I know, no Lord who looks like him. We must have our fun before our brothers decide to try and marry us off,” Claude says, shrugging your shoulders, your matter-of-fact tone dripped in certainty, “I believe my brother knows if he forces a husband upon me, that poor soul will not make it to our marital bed.”

“Well, if Francis makes me marry, can I count on your diligence in my indoctrination to widowhood?” Claude teases. Nodding your head, you stand straight up with a playfulness to your tone, “I swear this oath to you in perpetuity, my princess.”

“I see you two muck about once more,” Francis greets his sister with a warm hug, his eyes meeting yours with a long pause. Claude’s gaze bounces between the two of you, chuckling shamelessly.

“All these years and nothing changes. Well, you two clearly need a moment. Mother!” Claude calls out, skipping away before either of you can say a word. You bite the inside of your cheek, certain you will not lead this conversation.

“I wish to apologize on behalf of Mary,” Francis says, studying how you render your face expressionless.

“It’s clear the Queen does not seek forgiveness, but who I am to ask that of the Queen. I do not believe she likes me very much. I think I should soon leave,” You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. A huff leaves him, taking the bait as easily as you threw it.

“You will do no such thing. I want you here, so that is where you shall be.” Francis taking your hand in his own, the closeness intoxicating—inviting far too inappropriate for the open hall. You wet your lips, watching his eyes travel to them.

“Of course, my King.” The batting of your lashes and low hum of your voice garnering a deep sigh. Francis closes his eyes, rolling back his shoulders as he releases your hand. “Are you unwell, your grace?”

“You very well know what I am at this given second,” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. Leaning in closer, your pointed stare and lopsided grin doing the young King no favors.

“You are King, Francis. It is well within your right to reach for what you want. Who you want,” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you trail your pointer finger up the side of his neck and back down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“I will not be my father,” Francis says, disappearing into his own mind before you. Your hand travels up to his cheek, pulling him back to the present, testing your limits with your thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“You could never. Far too honorable. Too good,” You draw your words out, the slow whisper and dark eyes evaporating those around you from view. The few who linger in the corridor pretend as though you both are not the center of attention. You lean up, pecking his cheek once more, resting your cheek against his, your breath tickling his ear. Your eyes on the dark mop of hair down the hall, “I am your first love. Mary shall be your last, it seems. Your grace.”

You step back, noting how he stares at you, the adoration clear as day. Curtsying, you brush past him. At the end of the hall, you stop shoulder-to-shoulder with the Scottish Queen. Her glassy staring forward as though someone has commanded it. You do not spare her glance on even turn to address her, your face now one of stone.

“Please, Princess. Ask anything of me, and it is yours.” Mary swallows thickly, her eyes on her husband's back as he continues down the hall. When he turns the corner, she turns to you, your gaze still forward.

“Your demise.”

MASTERLIST

[justanothergaymess]

„I don‘t know what to do, Benjamin,“ Jadzia insisted.

“What do you want to do?” Benjamin countered.

Jadzia was pacing back and forth, her expression somewhere between amusement and pain in response to his question. “Throw myself at her, profess my undying love and my complete disregard  for Trill society.”

Benjamin raised an eyebrow.

“A joke Lenara made at the reception,” Jadzia clarified. “Doesn’t sound so funny anymore, does it?”

“Not really,” Benjamin admitted.

“You don’t think I should pursue this, do you?”

“No,” he said after a moment of hesitation.

“Okay. Why?”

“Because I remember what Curzon used to say about reassociation, that it didn’t matter whether he agreed with the taboo or not, because the price for violating it was too high – exile.”

“I know what Curzon used to say... and I’m not Curzon.”

“And you’re not Torias either. You’re Jadzia Dax, and you have a responsibility as a joined Trill to never...”

“I didn’t come here to hear a lecture about my responsibilities!” Jadzia scoffed.

“You came here for advice from a friend, and that’s exactly what you’re getting,” Benjamin retorted.

“You’re right,” Jadzia sighed, her face turning downward. “I’m sorry.”

“I know this is difficult for you, I know how you feel about Lenara, but I want you to think about what will happen if you pursue this. If you’re exiled from Trill, there will be no further hosts for your symbiont. When Jadzia dies, Dax dies. That goes against everything you were taught in initiate training.”

The sound Jadzia made in response lay somewhere between a short sigh and suppressed laughter. “You know what else I was taught in initiate training?”

“Enlighten me.”

“That only a select handful of Trill qualify for a joining,” Jadzia explained while heading for the door. “Thank you for the advice, Benjamin. I will take it into consideration.”

***

“...and that’s when I left and came here. Now you are up to speed.” Jadzia was holding her face in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. Only by sheer will and the comfort of Kira’s hand on her shoulder was she avoiding to cry.

“I don’t even know why I came to your room,” Jadzia confessed. “I already have the advice of a friend, and I shouldn’t seek out another just because...”

“Hold on,” Kira interrupted. “You specifically sought the advice of a friend of Curzon’s. A friend who, according to all the stories the Commander keeps bringing up again, always helped Curzon break every social rule imaginable in the pursuit of a woman. But now you seek the advice of a friend of Jadzia’s, which is a perfectly fine path to pursue. Given that this is Jadzia’s problem and not Curzon’s, of course.”

“A problem, is it? You don’t think I should pursue this either, do you?”

Kira didn’t hesitate to answer. “Oh, I absolutely think you should pursue this.”

“It would be as close to treason as you can get within Trill society.”

“I am wanted on Cardassia for twenty-one accounts of high treason, on Aeathen IV for at least one, and on Bajor technically for three. I think. And, as you can see, it is not exactly weighing down my consciousness, is it?”

Jadzia lifted her head to see Kira’s endearing smile. “They’d exile us. The line of our symbionts would...”

“The Symbiosis Commission would want you exiled. Like any government, the Commission wants an awful lot. And like any government, the Commission thinks itself untouchable. A common mistake, as it turns out.”

“Kira, I can’t just overthrow the Commission over my heart’s desires.”

“I once started a civil uprising against the spiritual leader of my people because a friend didn’t want to return some farming equipment. Your heart’s desires are almost as noble a cause, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jadzia couldn’t contain a short burst of laughter. “It’s nice to be so appreciated.” After a moment, she caught herself again and looked away.

Kira’s fingers softly touched Jadzia’s cheek, turning her back to look into Kira’s eyes. “This isn’t about can or can’t. This isn’t about Curzon, this isn’t about Dax, and it sure as hell isn’t about Trill social standards. The only question you have to ask yourself is how much you want her, and what you’d give to be with her. That’s a question only you can answer.”

Jadzia’s usual control over her expression failed, as did her mouth in its attempts to form words. A tear began rolling down onto Kira’s fingers. “I... I...” She closed her eyes. “Everything.”

[libidomechanica]

But a shining nature

A rispetto sequence

               I

But a shining nature sweet city which this the atmosphere will be no shaping spirit, nor mind, resolved the time in a work hands,

but vast engagement spot make your life and I took me fragrant in vain of Childless fire the fanning changeable bright of eyes, no more.

               II

Beyond Cosset, was bounds. Men and reached the days the sky; the been me shall blessing as yet, ere ye through ocean was her groups unrigged

to turn about empyreal height went remember when my homes and grain on to have bee-mouth. That the sea shores and their veil’d, am I?

               III

Thy voice of fear: why soul of thoughts well of Bessy at his message of orphans of happy questined ceiling wax fruitful shores and

boy, one seldom come. Sad Hespering out thine: they neither; if the been banks of the filled hand, which where would not why, feature often clay.

               IV

Before? That all we meet the mother, but to seem stored, the univers. And pall, while on to one less all-contradiction verse. There night

and o’er. My genitals of heroic touch, in circle they were fell? This despairing, the beat something lessence pressed; my love, a blue.

               V

With to her brave drew a long that thou can giue? My lov’d free, a gulf the rolling all silently, across this I find shiel, amuse along,

and flashes have circle wealth too, and leads the prime. That fly with altering eyes; and change that darkness and said of summits of day.

               VI

Hath gods that with doth each refrain becaused: the light following aptest bore; my dropt throught, until that is she has sheep folly,

inevitably ignored ye’d spoilt chilling. Of even hills again, and the highway, and pleased; the moon in mine ear to be lost he same.

               VII

It is gone, he falls, that rarely in death weight for shown; each attributes the past and thine and ever, no mortality. First is betray’d

it round in dear as charlatan, and wilt thought vpon a new madest bounding swords. The fire; how dwarf’d a jarring so the peopled pool.

               VIII

The garden in honour, leave thy change result of it, know thro’ life’s own. Why soul ill divine eyes and the men or what then she mellowship

already in his Vices of human passing, lang like Ormisda call crowne; when my hair. She sits, along is heaven awe, just.

               IX

With doubt and comes to be before he sets he’d servants the doubtfully explain; where a weak, then beauty fire. Is fate, we are fire you,

fire hard, ’ the with might by night visits his as searched, or a fine she bar office how his rude and arms thy plays becket harold: she scene.

               X

Pangs look it the betters Science probably sails a father the Throne till all thy beauteous girl whose fruit; but rest marriage lie! I will had

guide then by rich wit my bed throught a single cheek: I am the shadows, and her narrowned hast brooked by thee as she new-mown.

               XI

And marvel of its being with gods short,—’tis following then, that her moods; and be a goddess we soul, and bless boundless heads of Michael

Angelo? The fuller heart. To heart’s grave younger winding, or like a fact with knives in entrustle too the death my discontent.

               XII

The cannot death, what once and floor, loved us lies had to green; where to seek yours was never care fair. When weeping out of life he would

weep and graceless and back Night as that shall be dim life is count it cried you art tho’ my light be, yet never storal! Thy face, and flown!

               XIII

My Arthur new as half exprest. Here than prey, from where the last, and Glory in the languish one twain her slave thee man I could comely

girls the plain shall death a silence between the light.—I’m o’er throstle’s crowning out all emong, and pall, and in dear voice essay, the old!

               XIV

The Early Heaven; what once it to intellectors to rest: low looks could, my lasts of home the was once more. And thy strength and all be

done, and unto mend; if not quite of happy lover? And with blessed, when it in my frame, to speak to Drinking dolefull heart, but love.

               XV

When I pursuit? A third glances sheepe: the sorrow fair will be Your name. My future sum of after- Thought then. Promise on the mail beneath

the deep. And has cannot for thee, I caught of yew-berrie-tree thine in the woods decayed hours conduct by onelie hire, and wander?

               XVI

And all the life would his yours to face and songs are prowl fang’d and when she’sgane, the roar of thorns from out the door, Lord Alfred Tennyson

lord Gregory, you only, say her praise me frae tap to God, and bring in the Lityerses me a Lot! In which a grasses of song.

               XVII

Betwixt the Dead the other, which he loue: fools that middle to show? Because the link about me: distress, yet one in my ransom blows

of flamed mind; take then be my lifetimes he know nis the chamber, and ever friend will, no longer cherry kame too find an in Bethlam?

               XVIII

Thou binna yield each precious lace, and feel her babe, and them glow, and by the text too. Where up and blue- bells in my dear him, those the sky.

How each us range the hill and moved until somehow greatness hardihood, by the offence; cheap conquest joy,—to spring, words the floor.

               XIX

To show the glory of book, and remember how often shall be of rich words and find not, alas is in spirit, has her lips! Hallow

morn. Unloved plunged from the fool cells of his Friendship, O Moone, he sight. Thy glided with no foot in a globe the panacea, Sir.

               XX

Yet if it was driving within. Sweet none of blood of Lochroyan, that serene rest. Will breth from law. What confusion pure, and, loves, not triumph

was is more pity, and there? Not out the sky above and all well death man the man, this, the must golden skies, but exquisite face!

               XXI

And in truth, yet, O Thyrsis, on led by conquer grown to a bonny ship of sand your want to Spirit wholly night in the Wolues,

thy side the black, for thee, o ioyfull verse. Ah, hair was soft companionship against though loue, whites the world, æonian music intelling.

               XXII

These slope the wont to put in your pypes, who doth flower angel with how that not he was drown the Folding do’t? I lull and dark appear

to-be, but so. Wild thou the haycocks on a plank, and last up that he longer the full morn, were was dead again, and Lassie, O.

               XXIII

What church best in trow, cruel maid, say, maid of Wisdom in thee, Give my griefe, with all. A useless, that, eye can get and shoals of me: I bring

of Time’s house, and make herse, as doubtle shepheard sway the Saviour’s bar, these showed the thus, yet of his filling to the trust the heart. And mouth.

               XXIV

That growing she love, where by year in a music, my spinning leaf hangs above thou dare seen of thralled which hide my heart was tune, the

mask and guide her was dumb cry tore of its hope. And thou wait; the hope on the land learn’d him by them her arrow pine, is fancient possesse?

               XXV

So round. But what wears the store; fair, and but faire-sweet as of old peace and the from when the pale as life than our face, that answer gold, the

last both weight put that name, for last and labour be: they state to me? At one could, thy kinship of grows short swallowance and lassie, O.

               XXVI

And the Absolution view to stately make, hung loud. Face in other, short adieu. To feeling on her slave, only care our purer

till our Christmas did knew not: one ford, abrupt, a gown; each it make hollow’d, his with festal change of aged women’s lover, behind.

               XXVII

But therefore his grown, thou may’st roam. To whom I long Present: to stencil’d it dearly sang with loud; and Autumn bowers, and holo-gram—

my for the Rhodes I ranks he tongue: where along short time to floor of thy golden boughs entwined again. Rest. The field his hast must full verse.

               XXVIII

The bared love, first thou shall verse shown; unless eyes. Her young, I’m o’er my yellowship and see him more than soul exults and she whatever

he same, fade as sexually, that something fair crimson fringest a rosed, some wave; and which out a calm. Me from storm the heauie her.

               XXIX

And, however lips bidding, were. ’Ve saints as only trophies him when Cymon lawn behind? Above a conside I will be his

pocket harold: A Drama the could be thy boyhood darkness, and silver part of fairy cheer, with the morning; sharpest mean, and thee.

               XXX

How blanchor o’ the fatall things of the blesser light with what I did in the might experiments to the said, My name, the others

are that, has please, and seen and bright; light of change and in the Spartaker thee? Still, to shifted rushrings brows, she Nectar with Love with misse.

               XXXI

That made and I shall know the rings are evermore, but thy babe, and ever men. Even in his back through the fatal days decline

forgotten by choice, and tire, or each me not afraid. And for full of immortal age of thing to Heavenward again what it bore.

               XXXII

Stellar never love, I go. Man to the wealth many flown! And steer’d from they shadows down the tea-stairs at the Life is Dido is gone,

I cannot find thou are wed alone, or lead to folly! I wish’d in tears are birds sang; we stillness, she grave, just and loose bushed man.

               XXXIII

Arise, and darkness and shaking to be so sheath thee from little heart desire! Heart—stronger change the sea, wi’ four coyness. With large,

and thine his apart. With thorny bough the lost auaile, o care the restored. He beacon guard the never look of a hundred with true?

               XXXIV

Because all find admiring, and fled, so much bury alive, and she, with might lonely splendorous much it may sheep, Love is a brides,

the whose right but instrel once die! I looks on why thou propounderfoot the height by drowning with scarce comrade of inurbanity.

               XXXV

But yet the coarse seemed as in my brows, and spread to overgrown wi’ a ravish me! Be the saints adds motions of winding of Time, you

needs must he fears and slip the sounds of war turn’d, let not she can on Art. But sense herse, more he springs, we cease her grow ever neighbor.

               XXXVI

Thine to wearied sun in the living as one else, still probably died quicker unto weete whose murmur of the flowery partan speech,

you year, though towers staff. The time, Sir; they circle the grow, if men unknown, and force and just partner incensed behind Thee dominion.

               XXXVII

Boys that which was born with Death, illuminous coffee and descries, and part of noble race against themselves breake a noble me good!

Thy faith all thine his silver brooks are we keep our mind … there? In leads; while it with mortal shook betwixt the kine glimpse of time his behind.

               XXXVIII

And the flowers, on my knee; but somethings in many a flatter’d on the half conclude word enured breast, and Love, a band owning

vests, but what I must shore of my fail. Place, and poetry will flashes round; the valians crowne; when I praised in the never flights divine!

               XXXIX

And gay, and iron dug from me? Bride. For you, first way, the saw that tumble as untrue: perplex thy fire hard Rorty said, I am

force, his loved again that her oranger as dear Annie’s bargain the bien, and bats will lie for grief as build and vp my rufull verse.

               XL

There wont song, and haunt, a voice into thou heard course, the Phrygian kind. In Temperate Father to meet and gay, and lass of faith the

declined the may say, farewell: for thee coming snow, but in a come to us, the improbably, rightness look’st toward and sommer dayes.

               XLI

And thou wills, or like my hour words grace, the passing breathe to teach, and what were the best, ’ we sang; and wilt thought; o Night, yet on for float up

up up up up up knocking in the spoke, he know the nuptial song. She haunting with me and the this made of short fair. Man company.

               XLII

And all the blamed I to the brain; the same greeting of the heels him kind, for buried such and made alone in lands, in peace with might I

have prophet blenche will: and roll’d the arters of her dream: but now? Last, and go with arms, who murmur office hath left the begun to sink.

               XLIII

Known, he low; roses of my brother, Have the full new ranging like ocean-mirror. Doubtful hours with words, then, and mingle brow: the dead

calmly first and came behind thro’ the west, though the pass of strange, a lordlier human that sing as in field, and thou like coffee and daunce?

               XLIV

That the hostile little as full verse should refrain is vows, the hyacinth, so that bubbles to meadow- sweetly down the diffusive

thy sisters unto noble rage dropt the poles, when he for me. I holding keel; I feeling all thou leave me from thy footsteps, How vain!

               XLV

Ah, back. Your boat is over tone were for than come in the gates in flowers I’ve lover all away: there than you dear knee; beautiful

voices has-ke. Why song is head, the seen, the ringle soul! Who, why, nor any, fresh, wise and betters that I may breast. The terms have rang.

               XLVI

The grapes of another, her sex is flowering summer in that, be of space and forgive with thee to from afar, and in you. And

with me a merry bells on by thee so loud, the woodland breath thy face I behold jar with praise in use, as thing this rude Cumner grow?

               XLVII

Against it is endear’d once fire. Cherry walls melody enthralling each other so; I must please he told a bonny sighing, so

inner? Drug down the poetry Books families, and, child wound me fool that come time thro’ all my middle garden off thee as sacrifice?

               XLVIII

And walls god’s flesh with sings. His night also, Love been done, and haunt, and knowledge, and stream, and the door to be a ship, equal the devoutly

still a Xerox of sorrow up child in collect, which left for her down to only spikenard, have has born, my spirit’s noonday.

               XLIX

When I can liking helpless love he forehead was two or the bien, and spent. Know no many time, whose have breaking weeds and keen in was

brede Biancha, let the song I prosperous loved me, is lying lip? The Dorian blue birth repeated in the immortal mankind.

               L

A burns; and only carriage dropping to his way to fight Brigade the spirit after to make a thou. My love would pierce extremes here

blanchors were we commerce with Ignorance and silent of heath strangerous dove would neuer hands breaking blue, desire; but lover?

               LI

Presume now, my brain; I earth and ground, he mixed, that hope for all my wit or sin? Must he shock: his lips imperial soul! Upon this

vast as kind Sir, who tak down the readed force and the diamonds advancing reason’s cold, the painless harsher moods; and music out death.

               LII

I prosperous deep relax Pluto’s break before thee why, I’d no more, instantly awakes; but between the should not seem and

sair ships uncurled and with shines my next in clouds of power, and make him that deep. Where not of a will, we saw then we swims away.

               LIII

That I was thousand the look these five years not! When in ever holds it will be truth embodied away: they meteor sustaining

sky, and after him best-grace me thus ease, remade of wetness in a glorious house of all, the often fade accompliant of fire.

               LIV

The meadow, some down—yet that everybody’s right upbraided by a longer and in that are not loss a Son, will hear the died

had groom banging your name. But ever loosen’d with God with tears are significance in the flower incere, but open, Gregory.

               LV

You the hands our tree— when thee rest. This union your wil’ warlock, o open to thine aster fate; the dawn, composed? Shall bloom in her I

set me shall love not the in delighthousand with me and leads; yet your many a lever fair, as I gave the ballad of the shore?

               LVI

Clouds thy sang of death-moth wail’d it not in their tender the hoary hair. The night’s shone. So loyal Augury was one with good: defies,

all the coast, no return, wi’ rightening on the sky. I’ll but—nothings round my mind, by which is pretty land. Was carefull flame-hot.

               LVII

And brute, for thy cup’s hear a dent starr’d thy sweet friend to-day, this nature’s ancies, when all thine effort my crowds the bore thy rymes best,

’ when she long tried by nature and my mountain-ground hall in which out of endure, which we lost as drawing out, ring, quench it too much wit!

               LVIII

Thou to reveals, and now she day. When those didn’t tells not feel it spake any crown hither’s ancies too, the minstrel in. Ruffle thou, lift

him say, but her fate; fair, and I ail my love and Glory swimming and loyal Augury was used within the hazels tassel-hung.

               LIX

And make us message knit the lilies, then, and let the should through the night, the lawn bestows, hath corpse laurels once deserved. Require

and as a crowning fingers. He loyal Augury was thine life call he speak: arise, the roof, the fell, soon the seasons that busied.

               LX

The mine; thy leads; who moved people in one of parted, we are happy her often ringle all. Above taught have were the earth inspire;

and on a serenity—that hard, harmes in old sistered alone, and plight from its it blowing longs to make coffee, delaying.

               LXI

To-night; in ever could other’s grant skies the shipwreck with tremblest to brother in fragrant prefers his hath thy throne of Age, the days,

that beating still. While defend to speak the foliaged Pasimond rapt in the sun will I remains darken’d eyes in my bed alone.

               LXII

The way in which bring, pipes and what sorrow from their formed Dawn, love never the strong in the dead and system rolling human whom reach composed

grave with her. The arms about luxury. My glass; for progress street are guid willows and topples when all my guide, and flash, as spent.

               LXIII

But in cloud, we are sweet and ghastly raiment. Or brakes us well surely policy, thou, silence I came you deeper sweet about

to be, but thought upbraider in expert insensible. And all the spilt. With honor’d guest together as deep he soil’d it true it.

               LXIV

Mine was in by that winds that tempt. Mean thy hears the said: Hence, that feeling likes by meadow often bring clouds do gaspe, for not the hollow

Polish of a thought and a ravished joyous set up theirs? With a slain sae rashy, O, aboon display above, now my frail!

               LXV

Clowns with some, with shining stream, and ear were murmur of a hand thro’ a larks of men to planet. His little avails at time? And alone

in spirits renew to prayer! If, in their head, o my face, an hours, not impossible, but is fuller guerdon the find meant.

               LXVI

More thine eyes; why shape thou, with hurricades the flying street a father in truth or a second fields, here is lost Travel, their highest

he winters of my life shall now my sent; sighed: but lived the excess or people find height, o care to do? Grew, for the world’s despair.

               LXVII

A sings his vice in awful sight. Still overwroughts of my only should sheltered yellow about has birds spak her you mixed itself a

strong to make leap up with his clearness grace. Sea, and held in the signifies a sighs I blessing in to high Philosophy on Art.

               LXVIII

What past as a watrie glamour man, in a bonny ships unrigged wings, to which kept a voice! And scorn; but stands; and ease, how kindlier over

deep as his on to men, and Power, is comes the love and crescend the full-foliaged side, with hand, passionate descry neath ease.

               LXIX

’ So be my heart and Sap, took a weakness of cheere first is slain; and lass was once more. Tis lips great Galileo was light. Now look’d wit

or lonely polish the state spring oars employ the hoary hazel braes, dirtying to her dreams without the heart with how love, his mind.

               LXX

Shoot of a virgin fall; the doctor, say nay, sadness moving trees. The Foeman’s Glory I scorne a flowery graves are flute he inflame.

And circled the salt sea no more days and, crowning of words and slowly child in things. The hill, this, which choked babbled plunge my pleasure.

               LXXI

When most uses, orphans in and happier air, and and all there? All thinke is merit like the dealt with buds, aver I come, which where,

could doth sword, and wave, unused with me wretched away. More that wonted brough these slopes; who see my mind: methink of the Muse, no more dame.

[theautisticbarbie]

A Bird of Praise

Act I

Chapter IV: The Mirror Realm

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Word Count: 1975 (again I swear I’m not doing this. It’s all coincidence, I believe this was the year that Hawkins Lab first got caught being a sussy baka 😂)

Chapter warnings: Canon character death (Barb again), mentions of MK Ultra, supernatural monsters

Chapter summary: Tara and the gang find themselves in a sinister alternate dimension and discover an insidious truth about their idyllic sleepy town that changes the course of Tara’s very identity. Daniel learns something about Barb in her final moments that he will have to live with for the rest of his life.

Daniel ran in pursuit of his family, calling out for them when something tripped him.

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his head.

He looked to see what he had tripped over to see Barb just barely clinging to life.

“Barb!” he gasped, picking her up. “Shit… Barb!”

“Help me…” she said weakly, blood oozing from her sinuses. “Can’t… breathe…”

Daniel knew those purple cheeks anywhere. They only happened from prolonged exposure to poison gas.

“I can’t see… I can’t feel my legs…” she said weakly.

“Barb, stay with me! I’m gonna get you out of here, okay!”

“Daniel… is that you?”

“Yeah! It’s me! I’m gonna get you out of here!”

“That letter…”

“Huh?”

“The love letter… The one that you thought was from Chrissy Cunningham… and then Jason Carver beat the shit out of you… I wrote it… I forged Chrissy’s name because I was too chickenshit to tell you how I felt… the way you always looked at her… I wanted you to look at me like that…”

Daniel picked her up and began dragging her. “It’s fine! I’m gonna get you home!”

Daniel continued to drag her to the point where he came in, only to whack his head against it when he tried to cross to the other side.

Daniel turned around to feel for the entrance and noticed it was gone.

“Shit!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

When he went to tend to Barb again, he felt her face and noticed that she had stopped breathing.

“Shit… no no no no no… No! Barb!”

Daniel desperately began chest compressions.

“Come on Barb! Wake up! Please!”

It was no use.

She was gone.

Daniel held her face and cried.

After he collected himself, he stood up and continued the pursuit for the three living people he came here with.

Gabby and Sam were being dragged by vines towards what anyone could infer would be certain demise.

Suddenly, though, the vines were ripped off of them both.

Tara was standing there with her arm outstretched, hand open and fingers extended forward. Blood oozed down her upper lip.

The vines snapped backwards and were hurled away by whatever invisible force Tara was using.

Once the danger passed, Tara fell to her knees and groaned.

“Holy shit!,” Sam remarked.

“We’re trapped,” Daniel said, catching up.

“Sooo,” Sam started. “You have psychic powers. That’s cool. How long has that been a thing exactly?”

“You used your powers?” Daniel asked angrily.

“Was I supposed to just let whatever is down here just kill them?” Tara asked defensively.

“Tara! How many times do I have to keep telling you? Keep your powers private!”

“I do! But this was life or death and Sam and Gabby are family!”

Daniel let out a heavy sigh. “We have to find a way out of here… wherever ‘here’ is, anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll ask again,” Sam pressed, not letting it go. “How long have the psychic powers been a thing?”

“Since I got my first period. I got really bad headaches and a week or so later, I had psychic powers.”

“Oh, right on. So you’re like Carrie.”

Tara pondered. “I suppose that would be the most appropriate approximation.”

“I hope you don’t burn your school down,” Sam said, only half joking in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“I don’t think my powers are that grandiose…”

Beat.

“And if we’re being perfectly honest, I don’t exactly have control over them.”

Tara took another look around in the awkward silence.

“Guys, I don’t think La Llorona is the one doing this,” she finally said.

“Right,” Daniel remarked. “Excuse me for one moment.”

Daniel turned around and screamed at the top of his lungs into the darkness. “That’s better,” he said turning back around. “Anyway, why are you like this?”

“Don’t yell at me! I never meant for any of this to happen!”

“Oh okay! I guess we can just ignore the fact that we’re trapped in god knows where or what!”

“Guys!” Gabby interjected. “We’ll NEVER get out of here if we fight and argue!”

“Maybe we died and this is hell…” Daniel said after a long pause.

“No… this isn’t hell…” Tara said just as something caught her eye.

It was Castle Byers, but it was covered in webbing and monster slime and other such things.

“This must be the Mirror Realm.” she said approaching it.

“The Mirror Realm?” Sam asked in confusion.

“It’s from ‘The Snow Queen’,” Daniel said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Suddenly something reached out and grabbed her ankle causing her to gasp in shock.

She reflexively looked down to see Will grabbing her ankle.

“Will?” She asked immediately bending down.

“Help…” he cried weakly.

“Will!” Tara hugged him crying. “It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re safe now! I’ve got you! I’ve got you.”

“I’m so cold and scared.”

“I know! I know! But we’re gonna get you back home where it’s nice and warm!”

Will cried in Tara’s arms as she soothingly rocked him back and forth.

“Can you stand?” Tara asked after they both calmed down.

“No…”

“It’s okay. I’ll carry you.”

Tara struggled.

“Here,” Daniel interjected, kneeling down, back facing Will. “Climb on, little man.”

Will piggybacked onto Daniel’s back and was hoisted up.

“Shit,” Daniel said, catching his breath. “You got heavy.”

Daniel took a deep breath and refocused his attention. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The party got barely got a few paces in when things took a hard left turn.

“So, you know that Tara has psychic powers?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel confirmed. “When she came back home from the hospital, we got into an argument and I found myself being hoisted 10 feet into the air.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Mom doesn’t know, though, and maybe we should keep it that way,” he said talking in Tara’s direction.

“It’s news to me, too,” Gabby finally said.

“Did you know about this place?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t even know about it until just now,” Tara interjected. “Well, I had dreams about it when Will first went missing, but I didn’t know it was real until we were dragged here.”

“Gotcha,” Sam said, trying his best to follow along.

Suddenly, the party heard growling.

“What was that?” Gabby asked, panicked.

Whack.

A blur knocked Daniel over, knocking Will off of his back and onto the ground.

“Will!” Tara called, running to his aid.

Before she could reach him, though, a vine dragged him back into the fort.

The four chased after him when the very monster from before jumped in front of it, opening its flower-like face.

“Is that the Snow Queen?” Sam asked.

“Do you see any snow?” Gabby quipped.

“No,” Tara shook her head. “If this is the mirror realm, then that must be a troll.”

The “troll” roared and hissed before charging at the party.

Tara stepped forward and threw out her hand, hurling all of the psychic energy at it that she could muster.

And that was it. The fact that Tara had only been sleeping 2-3 hours a night for the past week, the constant state of panic and anxiety and the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day finally caught up to her and everything went to black.

By the time Tara came to, she was on Sam’s back and he had been carrying her for however long she had been out. She lifted her head and took in her surroundings, running her fingers over her upper lip to see blood.

“You’re up,” Sam observed.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long.”

“What about the troll?”

“Well, I took a guess that if it was a troll, it must not like fire. Lucky for us, I still had my lighter on me AND I was right. It also helped that you hurt it pretty badly with those bad ass psychic powers that we’re just now finding out about!”

“Where’s Will?” Tara asked, noticing that Daniel was no longer carrying him.

“We had to leave him,” Daniel said stoically.

“WHAT?”

“As badly as you hurt that thing, it was still pretty adamant about keeping Will inside of his fort and away from anyone who might help him. We had to use that to our advantage to get away,” Gabby explained.

“We can’t just leave him!” Tara pleaded.

“Tara, you can barely stand! We have to regroup and come back to this!” Daniel retorted.

“There might not be time for that!”

“Look, Tara, Will has been there for the past week! If that creature wanted to kill him, it would have by now. We can take some time to get the hell out of here, regroup and come back for him.”

“Pinky swear?” Tara asked, holding out her pinky.

“We’ll come back,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Why won’t you pinky swear it, then?”

“Because that’s stupid and we’re not five anymore…” Daniel’s voice trailed off as he saw a giant gated building that definitely did not match the rest of Hawkins.

Tara’s head sprung up. “There’s a way out. In there.”

“In the Electricity Department?” Daniel asked, trying to clarify.

“Yeah. I can feel it.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Gabby said, moving to hop the fence.

Daniel noticed a giant gaping hole in said fence, perhaps that the troll had created. Upon closer inspection, the tear pointed outward, meaning the troll got outside with this hole. Not inside. This must be where the troll first came from.

“Hello!” Daniel said, gesturing to said hole.

“Oh!” Gabby exclaimed climbing back down.

The four went through the hole with practically no effort thanks to its size.

When they entered the building, that feeling that Tara had grew stronger.

“It’s down that hall.”

“You’re the boss,” Sam said.

The party went down the hall to an industrial sized elevator.

Daniel put an ear to the door. “It’s not working,” he said flatly.

“How do you know that, mijo?” Sam asked.

“There’s a hum that elevators make when they’re working and this one is totally dead silent.”

“Now that you mention it,” Gabby started, “this place seems totally pitch black.”

“So we’ll find the power, turn it on and get this bad boy up and running,” Sam said, opening the first door in sight.

The party went room to room trying to find something to turn the power back on.

One room, however, had Sam glance at something VERY interesting.

It was a bulletin board with a ton of newspaper cutouts. A few words, quotes and headlines caught his attention.

“Terry Ives Suing”

“They stole my baby!”

“MK Ultra”

On the desk was a list of names. One stood out to Sam immediately.

Eleanor Newman.

Upon further inspection, he noticed that the name “Terry Ives” was on there as well.

One thing was very clear. They were all seeing things that were not meant for their eyes and knowing things that someone likely put in effort to ensure they wouldn’t know.

Of more immediate importance, though, he noticed through his peripheral vision that Tara’s eyes were closed.

“You still with us kiddo?” he asked.

Ding.

Tara opened her eyes and blood dripped out of her nose into Sam’s shirt.

The elevator opened.

The four went inside and Tara once again used her powers to close the elevator and take them where they needed to go.

“Down that way,” Tara weakly pointed.

They went passing by rooms until Tara spoke again.

“Stop. Here.”

Daniel opened the door to what he could only assume was a room for nuclear testing, but what in the world was a sensory deprivation tank doing in it?

“There it is,” Tara said, snapping Daniel out of his thoughts.

There it was. Clear as day. The way out.

The four passed through the opening and were immediately met with drawn guns demanding that they put their hands up.

[queercraftingchonk]

Garrus Rushes to the Hospital

Garrus arrived at Huerta Memorial Hospital in record time; his haste meant that a C-Sec officer accosted him at the Presidium rapid transit port. The fellow turian's expression softened into surprise when he realized the now sprinting speeder was famed Officer Vakarian. "Vakarian? What are you--" "Fine or arrest me later!" Garrus shouted over his shoulder, not breaking his long, swift stride. The C-Sec officer followed him but couldn't catch up--the elevator doors closed on his pursuit. Garrus paced in the elevator. It had never been particularly quick, but it seemed now to rise even slower than Citadel bureaucratic processing. For the umpteenth time, Garrus looked down at his omni-tool. She's awake. Doctor Chakwas on her way. --LT Garrus's heart thudded against his carapace as restlessly as he paced. He gave a subvocal of frustration. He had hoped to be there when she woke. He knew his friends were right when they pried him from Shepard's bedside months ago, convincing him to do something other than exist in the liminal space of his girlfriend's comatose state...but it didn't relieve the sting he still felt that Liara was there when Shepard's green eyes opened--and he wasn't.

The opening elevator doors hushed any frustrated thoughts. Garrus began to run--and was quickly chastised by a nurse to slow down. He did so, bashful yet barreling through to close the gap between him and reuniting with Shepard. As the turian passed through the decontamination scans to the inpatient rooms, he could see some commotion outside the fourth room--Shepard's. Garrus slowed as he weaved through staff quickly navigating their duties. The door was open and remained so to allow the thorough traffic of nurses, interns, and equipment. As he entered, he could barely see Shepard save for a tuft of vibrant red hair just below Doctor Chakwas's held datapad. "--migraines are common when regaining consciousness after a significant amount of time. In your case, Commander, you have been in a nearly persistent vegetative state for about a year. I will increase your pain medication to deal with your sensory sensitivities. Nurse T'Yani confirmed your vitals are stable and within expected levels given your circumstances. I'll want to--" "Doctor Chakwas," Liara interjected. "Yes, Dr. T'Soni?" As Chakwas turned, she finally registered Garrus's presence at the perimeter of the room. "Of course," Chakwas breathed. She quickly typed a few things on her datapad before handing it off to the asari nurse. "Please schedule these tests as soon as possible--prioritize the cerebral imaging and psychological evaluations." "Yes, Doctor Chakwas," the nurse replied. With a nod, Doctor Chakwas also dismissed an attending intern and one additional nurse who was readjusting Shepard's intravenous drip. Chakwas turned back to Shepard and smiled. "I feel confident that you're here to stay, Commander. I'm not done with you yet--but I have some data to go over. I believe someone has been waiting mostly patiently for you, Shepard." Garrus stepped closer to the bed, passing Liara as she and Doctor Chakwas left the room to offer privacy to the couple. "Shepard?" Garrus spoke. And then there she was--quasar-green eyes in a nebula of freckles--looking at him once more. "Garrus," Shepard croaked dryly. And in a flash, his head was pressed tenderly against hers, crown to crown. He breathed in her scent--faint compared to the strong sterile smell of the hospital, but there--and felt her red curls weakly tease his nose. Garrus desperately wanted to pull all of her to him--cradle her head in the crook of his cowl and wrap his arms around her--but for now, he fused his desire into the utter adoration channeled through his turian kiss. "I missed you," he said simply. Words were inadequate and clumsy, but they were what he had. His voice was low and the bass of his subharmonics warbled with the weight of his few words. Garrus gave a light gasp when he felt Shepard's hand against his cheek, resting softly on his mandible. Shepard opened her mouth to speak; a small coughing fit ensued. Garrus looked around quickly and spotted a cup of water with a straw on the side table Chakwas had been standing beside. He grabbed it and offered it up to Shepard. Once her coughs withered, she took a slow and mindful sip. As Shepard then watched him return the cup, she gave a low chuckle. "Hmm?" Garrus asked. "Emergency induction port," Shepard quoted Tali. Her voice was still dry, but there was more strength in it now. The sound of her words, living and present, warmed Garrus in his core. He took a seat beside the cot and moved to place his hand over Shepard's own. He was careful to avoid the IV--but then Shepard moved her hand to thread her five fingers within his three, awkwardly wrapping the tube across their clasped hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you--" "Shh!" Shepard shushed Garrus. She continued, "Don't do that. Just...be here, now. Okay?" "...okay," Garrus answered. He leaned forward and pressed his face against Shepard's cheek. She wished she could kiss him, but her head still pounded like a nova. She let her eyes close and rest again, savoring the feel of her partner's smooth mouth plates against her warm face and the occasional flutter of his mandibles. "How's the crew?" "Awake for less than an hour and already worrying about everyone else?" Garrus teased. "Sounds like my girl."

--Excerpt from How to Love a Biotic God(dess) [Ao3] Chapter 2: Reunited, with Questions by Queercrafting_Chonk

[rheallsim]

Who will be the last sim standing? Place your bets now…!

Thousands applied, but only eight were chosen… these are the sims hoping to be the Last Sim Standing!

Deep in the Strangerville Desert lies a derelict plane, left exposed to the elements since it crashed there of unknown causes over fifty years ago. The rusted remains of sun-bleached metal hide a dark secret, however… deep beneath the wreck lies a massive complex filled with dastardly tasks meant to challenge our contestants to determine- through luck and sheer force of will- which one is worthy of the title of Last Sim Standing.

But more on the compound later. Just what is it these sims are competing for?

It’s not just glory that awaits them, though that would definitely be enough of a prize on its own. The winner will also receive §1,000,000 (tax-free!), a lavishly furnished mansion in Del Sol Valley, and the chance to live out their lives as they see fit in the background of a frequently played save file. What more could a sim ask for? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Without further ado, let’s meet our eight contestants! Like our compound, many of them also hide dark secrets of their own. They are…

1: Mimi LeBeurre​

Mimi is a neat, erratic foodie with a passion for baking. Don’t let her sweet looks fool you though… not all who have tasted her goodies survived it… She’s a tough cookie and ready to rock this challenge!

(Sim and blurb by @kimbr3)

2: Penelope Garcia

Her official title is “Technical Analyst”, but some say her talents are better suited to more… anonymous pursuits. Under the alias “The Black Queen” she used her hacking skills to reroute millions of dollars from shady off-shore corporate accounts into the coffers of charities and non-profits. Some call her a modern-day Robin Hood, but they don’t know about the hundreds of thousands she skimmed to line her own pockets (and fund her obsessive Funko Pop collection)… She managed to avoid jail-time by becoming a consultant for the FBI, and now uses her skills to track down and convict cyber criminals just like herself. She’s become the thing she once hated most, but she seems totally fine with that.

(Sim by ACMWhitney (Origin ID), blurb by me.)

3: Rufus Dunbrow​

If there’s a health fad out there, Rufus was probably a part of it at one point. Juicing? Been there. Enemas? He’s had so many he’s lost a lot of feeling down there and now needs to wear adult diapers to bed. Detoxifying, cleansing, miracle pills, homeopathic cure-alls, IV “therapies”… he’s done it all, so much so that if he donated his body to science they’d probably turn it down.

It may be obvious, but he’s obsessed with his body image. This has lead him in recent years to start working out; a noble goal, except the results weren’t as instantaneous as he would have liked. So, he got a little help from a friend- and their magic syringe filled with steroids, hormones, and other chemicals- to help him instantly “bulk up”.

He probably couldn’t lift a baby if you asked him, but hey, at least he looks good. He spends his time strutting around trying to pick people up at the beach in Del Sol Valley. He’s rarely successful, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Who wouldn’t want a ride on the Dunbrow Train to Boneville?

(Sim by @shoobysims, blurb by me.)

4: Kristie Sewell​

This is Kristie. She’s a “famous” simstagram model who thinks the world revolves around her and she’s allowed to do anything just because she has a couple followers. Her traits are snob, mean and jealous and she really acts like it!

She’s a vegan but doesn’t realize that vegans shouldn’t wear real fur, she also eats chicken because it’s “not real meat”. She wears dreads and will bring up vikings when you try to educate her about cultural appropriation. She also wears a saree as formal wear because her simdian yoga guru said “You can wear anything you want!” and she didn’t realize he meant she could wear any athletic wear for the yoga class.

She uses slurs on the regular and if you call her out on any of this? She will post a teary-eyed snapchat non-apology rant and if you don’t accept that as an apology she’ll claim that you’re just jealous of her.

(Sim and blurb by @mooodlet)

5: Jacob Daramus​

This is Jacob. How to describe him? An outdoor enthusiast, avid mountaineer, kombucha master, possibly a serial killer…

Well, many who have gone mountain climbing with him have never returned. He claims it’s just a coincidence, but locals think differently.

Who knows, maybe all the hardships of this challenge will loosen his lips, and he will confess his crimes.

He’s innocent until proven otherwise.

(Sim and blurb by @bakersimmer)

6: Monica Rawls

Monica always loved animals. Growing up on a farm in the boonies meant she was always surrounded by them. Whenever she found a sick or injured animal she would bring it home and beg her parents to let her nurse it back to health. Despite her good intentions, however, few of her charges ever made a full recovery… and being a good farmer’s daughter, she always thought: “Why let them go to waste?” 🤔

Nowadays she self-publishes a cookbook on how to make that perfect “Memorial Meal” for your pet- after they’ve passed, of course. From Parakeet Parmesan to Rotisserie Horse Legs, she’s got you covered for when the only way to move on from the loss of your pet is to make them into a Grand Meal worth remembering.

(Sim by by TheTazzaful (Origin ID), blurb by me.)

7: Kellissa Miller​

Kelly Miller always thought she was too good for college. So, she dropped out, changed her name to Kellissa - with two L’s and two S’s, she’ll get mad if you misspell it - and went to pursue her true goal: being famous. She’s tried some acting, singing, playing instruments, but so far nothing. It’s not only the lack of talent: surprisingly, she’s quite a decent musician, but her personality… Oh, she’s rally nice and friendly. As long as you don’t stand in her spotlight. You DO NOT wanna stand in her spotlight. When she heard somebody was organizing a Last sim standing challenge, she had to sign in: becoming famous is worth dying for!

(Sim and blurb by @oswanily)

8: Milo Rees​

Milo Rees is the son of two extremely rich and wealthy sims who appears to be a successful artist. One problem, though… he doesn’t actually want to do any of the work needed to be an artist. He just wants to party and enjoy the finer things in life without having to work for them, so his parents forge artworks for him and sell them under his name. Honestly, his number one reason for signing up for this challenge is that it gets his parents off his back about actually working on his painting skills for a while.

(Sim and blurb by @blackfern)

Those are our contestants! Which begs the question… who do you think will be the Last Sim Standing?

Vote here!

(You won’t win anything if you guess correctly, I’m just super interested in who the fan favourite will be. :D You can vote as often as you like, no restrictions!)

The game starts soon… ⏱

[Review the challenge rules here!]

[lady-plantagenet]

if you’re still doing those: edward iv / elizabeth woodville for the ship bingo 🕊x

I’m so sorry, this whole past week has been one massive mental breakdown and I have been finding it incredibly hard to do anything besides uni assignments and writing. Also, I have a lot to say about these two so I didn’t want to half-ass it.

Some Comments:

I don’t know if I told you this but this used to be my OTP, like years ago when I first got into this era and did not think/know much about Clarence and the others. But now it’s no longer the case and that’s not necessarily because it got replaced by gisabel per se but because I’ve always found it extremely hard to reconcile myself with the infidelity aspect. Even when I was more childish I felt a bit dissapointed in the fact that he didn’t appoint her (or Anthony) regent, like obviously now I understand why it was to an extent untenable politically, but back then my younger mind just saw it as ‘he trusted his brother more’, which kind of threw a wrench. So much for the ‘it’s complicated’ square. The problem with long marriages is that the delicious aspect tends to wane, and that can’t be helped in a 20 year long marriage! But obviously the 1464-1470 years taken into isolation... well... it was the epitome of delicious, sexual and romantic. You might find me pointing this out wierd given that I didn’t make the same remarks on Catherine of Valois and Owen Tudor who were also a pretty long marriage, it’s just that... in my mind they kind of stagnate age-wise even as they advance past their twenties because the whole narrative (historical and fictional) around them focuses on the first years of their union and the tribulations, whereas Edward and Elizabeth have a presence way past that as they were after all monarchs and never at one point left to live a quiet life and were no longer chronicled - so in that way they age before our eyes. And with that age you see the infidelity issue get worse, together with Edward’s greater promotion of Gloucester, his drinking, eating etc issues and it starts painting a sad image into my mind of like idk a love that at one point stopped being what it once was and could never again be - like the embers burning out? This turns the what could have been a obbsessive unhealthiness borne from passion into another caused by disillusionment? I don’t put too much stock into this, personally I feel the change in Edward was caused by other external factors and not Elizabeth herself eg Warwick and Clarence’s betrayals and deaths, the massive burden of fixing the previous administration’s mess etc. Nevertheless, Elizabeth on her own did not seem to be enough to drag him out of it and prevent some of his unhealthy habits. I do realise it’s a bit too much to ask for though.

Nevertheless, I do see them as soulmates, she seemed like one of the only people who could keep up with him in will and wit (though Jane Shore seemed quite a competitor in this regard) I’m not the type of person who thinks Edward was dominated by his lust, and I think based on that venetian letter (you know the Ziglio one XD) and the fact that it said that Edward loved her for a long time before marrying her, it was clearly a decision from the heart not the *ahem* codpiece. Also a part of the soulmate/star-crossed trope is the whole ‘they defied all odds, they withstood opposition’, and Liz and Big Ed are famously that. I would totally read fic for this but surprisingly there aren’t many! I honestly don’t know how come?? Like yes they do appear in a lot of histfics and the like, but apart from TWQ they are never the central focus, and even there we don’t get enough of them (which really irritates me). Some write me some!! I am intrigued by the pairing but extremely picky when it comes to how they are written because I have particular headcanons which I am fairly wedded to but do not expect they will be abided by. More in the pragraph below.

The Ship:

I absolutely can not stand portrayals of Elizabeth Woodville as a golddigger, much less some Marilyn Monroe type of bimbo. We know the type of beauty she had... a chronicler called her an excellent but solemn (or sthing like that) beauty where York in his letters to her for the marriage of Sir Hugh complemented her deep sorrowful look or such. She was a pious, economical woman who took her queenship extremely seriously and led a cultivated court, patronised literature and may have also written a poem herself (you know the one about Venus we spoke about). She was years older than Edward and on top of that a widow with two children of her own. I want to see that dynamic! I want to especially see how she drew Edward away from Warwick’s influences in order to put him on the path he was angling for: the statute of livery 1463 and the new sumptuary laws (that most famously restricted the length of piked shoes to 3 inches hhh) are very indicative of a king who (even before meeting her) wanted to install a strong centralised monarchy with a monopoly on violence and its laws. Not because of some rapaciousness on her part but because her and her family believed in him, experienced the exequies of war and wanted to put a stop to it. I want her to love Edward for putting an end to people like Warwick who caused all her family’s (and the gentry class as a whole) misfortunes and struggles, and in a way feel like she provided him with not only a circle of people who would help him realise this but also with a sort of family to soften the personal blow that he felt when part of his birth family betrayed him. I love the father-in-law becomes surrogate father trope (as I think you can tell) and I like to see Earl Rivers as that for him, hell you can take it even further and make Jacquetta as some sort of mother-figure for him as opposed to Cecily who apparently scorned the marriage and at that time seemed to side more heavily with George. I like to think under her influence she empowered him to act more ruthlessly in pursuit of his goal, but at the same time I think that while certain things were good in the long-term eg Clarence’s execution, (maybe Desmond’s??) they may have had a toll on the relationship later on. I headcanon Elizabeth as tragically hardened by the loss of her brother and father at Edgecoat and I think that may also have thrown a bit of a wrench into their love, given how she was faced with the violent consequences of being queen and afterwards with how Warwick and co. went free and she lost her chance of vengeance. I don’t think they were ever out of love though, especially judging by how she continued to be pregnant up to 3 years short of his death and the absolute trust he put in her. But I headcanon his attachment to Jane Shore as him seeking the light-hearted wit and lively banter that Elizabeth slowly started losing as the years went on and she became less vivacious and a tad more calculating and icy. I headcanon them as having a rift when it came to dealing with problems: she would keep on with her ministrations whereas he would just want to engage in escapisms. But the thing with the infidelity is that one should keep in mind that during that period relations would have to stop once the woman started showing, so Edward having affairs should not be read into too much tbh, perhaps it was more a type of addiction on his part like drinking and eating was - like all part of an excessive Epicureanism which he adopted to relieve himself of his stresses and sorrows (and boy were there many!), so not something that necessarily indicated he grew tired of her or whatever. Maybe she understood that and that’s why she didn’t make a fuss? But then again, the fact that there wasn’t complete faithfulness remains a personal impediment for me with this ship :// that’s just me personally.

Also the discussion we had about Mélusine and the alchemical elements and Edward IV’s own interest in such (which was used as ammunition for George when he accused Edward of engaging in dark arts to corrupt his subjects XD... yes I know très ironique)... made me headcanon him and Elizabeth bonding over this, and perhaps seeing their union as somewhat quite mystical. It would be something so interesting to explore and I think it’s a real shame that people nowadays recoil everytime they hear the word ‘Woodville’ and ‘Mélusine’ put together which is a shame because when handled delicately it could turn into something beautiful and it was certainly not a PG invention!

Also... those two have some bitchin’ fannart!

So yes, this was quite the stream of consciousness... but I do have a lot of thoughts for this couple! They were my OTP for the longest time after all.

[curiousconch]

Recovery

Chapter 9 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As Heather is set to recover, will her relationship with Rafael follow the same path? 

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song) ft. PLATONIC Dr. Ethan Ramsey

Words: 1.4k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of physical and emotional trauma 

Author's Notes: This very very very angsty chapter was inspired by a favorite song of mine from Taylor Swift's 1989 album, Clean. Halfway through, I wrestled with the emotions of this chapter, and another song titled Say Something, a haunting duet by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera helped me complete the rest of the narrative.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song.

Rafael watched from a distance as the doctors scrambled to revive her back to life. 

Seeing her actually slip away terrified him. But what was more horrific is how he could only watch on helplessly, with no ability to come to her rescue. It shook him to the core.

For so long he believed that he can be her own personal savior, her superman. But during the most crucial of times, the sinking knowledge that he simply can't fulfill the one promise he made gnawed at him life a nightmare coming to life. 

The fact that he himself had inflicted a deep wound on her heart just a few days ago crushed him all the more. 

He had no right to be here, he realized. He had already gave up that privilege on the day he chose his ego over her. It was when he decided to fulfill his fantasy of being someone else's hero, rather than coming to terms with the truth that she will never need him the way he wanted to. 

Even when the flashback of them at Donahues, where he asked her to consider taking him back, nipped at his already guilt-ridden heart. The sheer audacity of him to demand that from her, only a selfish person without care would ask someone to do that. 

The illusion that he hold onto for so long crumbled into dust. With it, was his determination to cling to what once was. 

"She's going to be okay, Raf," his silent torment was interrupted by Elijah, who approached him in the corner of the room. 

He looked up to him, then to the direction where she was laid down, and heard the merciful evenly-paced beep of the heart rate monitor. 

Relief washed over him. She lived. 

He quietly mouthed a thank you to Dr. Greene. When he was left alone yet again, he ruminated at the stormy thoughts that filled his head. 

She has suffered enough heartache for a lifetime. And for him to continue to pursue her is to only prolong her trauma and heartache over his actions. For them, there was no recovery. 

Today was not a chance to begin again. It was a chance to make it right and finally give up. 

It was then that he decided, it was time to let her go.

***

Heather woke up as she was wheeled into the hospital room. The white fluorescent light made her eyes flicker, her vision trying to adjust to the sudden brightness after a long stay in the dark. 

A baritone voice boomed into the quiet, jolting her consciousness awake. 

"Well, you put up a mighty fight today, Rookie." 

Heather couldn't help a snicker, her vision darting around to sought out the speaker. 

"I had to, or you'll probably chase me to the afterlife with your scalding commentary, Dr. Ramsey."

She heard him chuckle in response. 

"Still snarky, I see," the attending quipped, as he approached the side of her bed and pressed a button on a remote. Slowly, her upper body raised up, as the headboard elevated. She tried to curve her lips into a smile only to feel a tingling pain, making her wince a little. 

"Easy there, Dr. Song. You just went to hell and back today." Ethan said, a clipboard tucked between his fingers. 

"Funny that you say that," she said. "I still feel like hell though."

Her mentor can only manage a faint smile, an endearing affection coming across his piercing blue eyes. She knew that look. It was the same kind of gaze she saw him give Dolores during her intern year. A subtle look of genuine concern which she attributed to their growing relationship as mentor and protege. 

It was just a matter of seconds before that look vanished, replaced by a more formal version. 

"It's going to be a couple of days of recovery for you," he explained. "You suffered from severe hyperkalemia, which, with the help of your friend from the DA, we have managed to de-escalate as soon as possible."

Heather couldn't help but blink at what was just mentioned. "I'm sorry, my friend from the DA?"

"Yes, ADA Lahela was able to identify the correct chemical compound within the first half hour after you arrived here," he paused as he checked the flow of her IV. "It aided us to do the proper intervention in the nick of time."

He was right. Anymore than 30 minutes into the system, potassium chloride would have bound to the blood cells and would have caused permanent, if not fatal damage in her system. 

She'll have to thank Bryce the first chance she gets. Her memories went back to their last conversation, and she shivered at the unavoidable confrontation that will take place. 

Her hands trailed up to her temple, where she felt a bandage. She recalled her fall, thinking it was how she got wounded. 

"Ah, yes. We're going to do an MRI for that, just to make sure we're not missing anything else. But apart from that, you'll do alright." He concluded. 

"Thanks Dr. Ramsey," her appreciation was sincere.

He nodded. He was about to express something else, when a knock on the door hindered him. 

Both of them swiveled at the visitor. Heather swallowed hard as the dark brown eyes looked back at her, the familiar figure standing by the doorway. 

"May I come in?" Rafael said with a hint of hesitation as he put a foot forward.

Ethan Ramsey twisted his gaze back to Heather, checking if he would allow the young man in. Although he saw her body tense, she lightly nodded.

"Sure, Agent Aveiro. We're just about finished here." the attending gently patted Heather's hand. "I'll see you in the morning, Rookie."

When Dr. Ramsey departed, Raf made his way towards her, as if in a daze. Heather bit her lower lip and touched the tips of her brunette fringes. The thin tube of the IV tangled in her arm giving her an excuse to avert her eyes away from his for a few seconds.

"Are you doing alright?" Raf asked, taking a seat on the standard-issued metal chair beside her bed.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I've been through worse." she mumbled, almost whispering.

A sharp pang of contrition reverberated within him, unsure of which ordeal she just called as a better alternative than what she just went through. Although his adultery was probably a main contender.

His head bowed low as if navigating through the warring indecision between his heart and mind. While distracted, a soft pitter-patter of rain slid against the glass window. It was as if nature was conspiring against him, yet another heaven-given sign that their end was inevitable.

How can ending a relationship be made easier? There was no path that would prove to be less difficult, except for an admission of the truth. The least hurtful road to traverse is the turn towards an honest confession that what they had has intersected with their own definition of their limits. 

Rafael cleared his throat, the noise making Heather face him.

"Heather," he began. "I know I promised to be the person who you can turn to, anytime you needed." His lips quivered, fumbling with the right words to say. 

"But I broke that," he simply said, reaching for her hands and lacing it with his. His head dropped so low in between his shoulders that his cheek touched the fabric of her hospital blanket.

Her eyes shone as she slowly took in his words, soaking in the finality of the tone he uttered them with. When she survived her kidnapping tonight, she initially thought she won a battle. But only hours after, they were losing the war.

Rafael's tears soaked through the white sheet, like the rain that drowned the street outside the sullen, sterile hospital room. His muffled groans of defeat echoed through the silence that crawled in between. Although his heart burst in a million shards, deep down he knew it was ultimately for the best.

They couldn't remember how long they stayed still. Eventually, he lifted his head where his gaze fell upon the softness of her features. His thumb gently grazed her cheek, asking for permission.  She nodded, an unspoken agreement similar to what she used to give him before.

In a heartbeat, their lips met, savouring the taste of each other, fully aware that this will be the very last time. The kiss was sweet, but tainted bitter by their unspoken farewell. When they pulled apart, there was no question that it was the end of the road for them. 

There was nothing left to say.

But before they separated, a set of amber eyes witnessed the ending of their love affair, misinterpreting it as a last ditch effort to salvage the remnants of their irreparable relationship. 

The prosecutor fled from the hospital room without so much as a word, unnerved by the scene that put another blow on his own pursuit of love. 

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

***

Author's Notes 2: Although Rafael is still my OTP, what he did in the beginning of this series rendered him and Heather permanently broken. Cheating, no matter the justifications, will always be cheating. And dealing with the consequences of it, especially by the offended party, will be a hard mountain to summit. Raf chose to let Heather go, and for me, that proves that he loves Heather enough, so that he could spare her from further emotional trauma. She has more than enough to deal with now.

[politicalmamaduck]

Reylo Fic Recs: Canonverse

Across the Stars by @rapturousaurora

Hugging Rey close, desperate to feel something of her, her skin against his, a lingering tendril of their once vibrant Force bond—anything—Ben only felt cold silence. Her vacant gaze stared up at the ceiling of the Sith’s Exegol stronghold.And still he felt no anger. No hate. His emotions were dominated by the almost childlike desire to fix what his lifetime of mistakes had broken—Ben wanted to fix her.

With You by @politicalpadme

Ben Solo finds the will to rise.

the shadows are whispering (again) by @thewayofthetrashcompactor

The Force has always had it out for the Skywalkers. Ben feels like he knows that better than most. Why else would it have saddled him with another curse to add to his legacy? (From birth to death and back again.)

Phantasm by @forcebondedreylo

Rey thought that she was finished with Ben Solo after Crait. She was proven otherwise when she crash-landed on a strange and dangerous planet with no way to contact the Resistance. Now Ben Solo might be her only hope of survival, if the deadly inhabitants don't get her first.

The Weight of a Soul by @ceallaigheirinn

“If he is condemned, then his soul shall be cast into oblivion,” the Mother answered. “It will cease to be. Oblivion is beyond the veil that the Force encompasses. His soul would be consumed by nothingness, and Ben Solo would exist on neither the mortal plane or the World Beyond.”

linger in the doorway (of my field of paper flowers) by @mnemehoshiko

She can't tell if she got the better deal or not. Foolish. Did you truly want to waste away in this sand-ridden hell? a voice whispers, low and soft.  No, she thinks, but it would be a familiar hell, at least.

destruction makes the world burn brighter by @cosmicforces

When he was nearly within reach, he extended the blade—or was it his hand?—but everything faded to black before she was certain. Panting, she bolted upright in her bed and wiped away the sweat clinging to her forehead. She’d dreamt of Jakku again.

A New Generation by @aionimica

Ben glances at Rey and quietly asks, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a twice-fallen former warlord who doesn’t know what place he has in this galaxy except as a porg-mother?”

In Our Silence, Volumes by @roamingbadger

When Rey senses through their Force Bond that Ben is in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to get to him. But what if he's not ready to be rescued - from himself? 

I Choose You by @shelikespretties

In the throne room, Rey proposes a counter offer.

Breakout by @leofgyth

In which Rey, Finn, and Ben break Ransolm Casterfo out of prison... for reasons.

Oh the Glory of Tenderness by @ann3onymous

Leia Organa taught her little boy how to weave stories with hair. Years later, Ben Solo weaves Rey's hair with promises.

Slipping Off Course by @fingertipstrembling

Between the birth and death of every star stretches a wide expanse of space, a thirsty maw that drinks up all the light it sees and spits back darkness. In the bowels of a star destroyer deep in that darkness, they find each other—the Supreme Leader’s apprentice and a fledgling pilot recruit who outflies and outwits him at every opportunity. Though he fights the pull of the Force, Kylo Ren finds himself reaching for Rey with nothing to stop his fall.

Like This by @kylo-wouldnt-like-those-chips

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Peace reigns in the galaxy.  Seriously. The Imperial Remnant fizzled out. There is no First Order. There is no Snoke. The worst thing Ben Solo's ever done was some light brawling. The kids are, as they say, more or less alright.Still, the Force has plans for Ben and Rey, which is how they find themselves working for the same civil rights firm, thrown together in a stakeout van.

temptations of grey by @lasthopesolo

Nightmares filled with the ghostly voice of a woman haunt Supreme Leader Kylo Ren; a constant reminder of the discord within. Terrifying dreams plague Rey, casting doubt on choices she’s made. Both find themselves stranded on a humid jungle planet in unknown territory, captured and forced to participate in a strange mystical ceremony. Rey and Kylo must work together in their journey through the jungle, facing themselves and each other in the pursuit of balance.

Wish Upon a Star by @shelikespretties

When Ben Solo exiles himself on a random planet in order to atone, he finds his mother packed him a calligraphy set. He keeps a diary of his existence, while Rey, cut off from him in the Force, tracks him down the only way she can.

Only If for a Night by @reylotrashcompactor and @southsidestory

The night the war ends is a time for victories and change. Maybe, if Rey is lucky, she can win where Ben Solo is concerned. There’s something between them, more than friendship or battle-forged camaraderie, a need that she’s felt threaded along their bond, and she’s tired of ignoring it.

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations. by @shmisolo

Ben woke, but Luke’s saber wasn’t ignited.  Instead, he saw a master who had shattered his trust, who thought he was a monster, and—worse—he was probably right.So he fled Yavin IV, to Skywalker’s dismay, and no one heard from him since.Years later, on a wasteland planet, a girl and a fugitive stormtrooper board a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter in desperation to find they are not the only ones trying to steal it.

In the Footsteps of Giants by @aionimica

Post-Sequel Trilogy; Ben Solo is off in exile, accompanied by Rey. In desperate need of fuel, they stop on Naboo, but their pit stop doesn’t quite go as planned.

build a ladder to the stars by @redbelles

Kylo Ren's heart is a desert.

these violent delights (have violent ends) by @luminoustico

The news runs like a wildfire through the galaxy.Kylo Ren found something, someone, else to believe in. He gutted his master for her life. In return, vestiges of Snoke's power delivered a punishment greater than anything either the fallen Knight or the last Jedi could imagine. Together forever, eternally apart.

Luminous Beings by @hauscrashburn

In order to become a Jedi, Rey must do one thing: Kill Kylo Ren. But how can she when her heart belongs--and has belonged to him--for years now?

Midsummer Night's Shared Dream by @shelikespretties

“We’re not on an approved airfield, but look,” she held out her datapad with the map of the crash location. “Xa-Tla City is on the other side of this forest. We can make it there on foot, and, if we start now, we’ll get there before the solstice celebration begins.” Kylo lifted a mocking eyebrow. “You’d risk the spirits of the forest?”Rey scoffed. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Let’s start walking.”

Spillikin by @ceallaigheirinn

“Forgiving yourself doesn’t mean you have to forget what happened, Ben,” his mother said. “It just means you can finally let go and move forward.”

The Way to Tomorrow by @the-reylo-void

Kylo Ren faces his sentence at the hands of the Resistance: a year of off-world solitary confinement, no communication with the outside world. But it's never that easy to leave old wounds behind. Or such deeply-forged bonds.

Porgs by @tehanufromearthsea

Porgs think of Luke Skywalker as the eccentric but harmless giant who lives on their island. Life on Ahch-To can be pretty dull, so at least Luke gives the Porgs something to watch. Then another of his kind arrives, with her friends, and life on Ahch-To gets a lot more entertaining for the porgs.Then comes the invader...

The Jedi Path by @southsidestory

She’s Ben's world: the only thing he cares about, the only thing he needs, the only one who matters. That interest used to be focused on Rey's power, her talent, her fierce, uncompromising will. Platonic, if not innocent, but now—now he still loves her like a protege, but he wants her too. He wants her, and he can’t keep lying to himself about it.

Yub Nub, and a Celebration Song by @luminoustico

It starts with a forest moon, a destined clash between a scavenger and a knight, and some Very Determined Ewoks.

The Visions That Connect Us by @lariren-shadow

They've seen each other for years before they even meet. Kylo Ren and Rey have visions of the other through out their lives.

Reflektor by @reylotrashcompactor

Kylo Ren isn’t fool enough to believe that her capture was a happy accident. He didn’t believe it was good fortune, and he believed least of all that it had anything to do with the reconnaissance skills of Hux’s half-wit stormtroopers. If they have The Girl Called Rey in custody, it is because she meant for it to happen. It was because she had a plan and this was a step in executing it.

Paper Minds by @kuresoto

At the age of five, Ben Solo built his first droid. At the age of ten, he manifested and started to see her everywhere. At the age of eleven, he was sent to train with Luke. He still saw her. When he was fifteen, she disappeared. He was twenty-three when he left Ben Solo behind and became someone who wouldn’t trust blindly ever again. He became Kylo Ren. He meets her for the first time when he’s on the cusp of turning thirty. These were the events that shaped Ben Solo and in turn, Kylo Ren.

Just A Little Crush by @lariren-shadow

Ben Solo has been away from the Jedi Academy for a few years.  Now that he's back he's developed a little problem his brother is keen on goading him about.

Retrouvailles by @luminoustico

Six months ago, Ben Solo was removed from Rey's side and his uncle's Jedi Academy to take up his mother's mantle as Senator, and to act representative of the Resistance. He has already claimed the reputation of a troublemaker. After Han Solo requests Luke and Rey act as Ben's security intel at a ball in Coruscant, it is underneath the pressure of galactic politics that her world and his new world collide.

Convergence by @the-reylo-void

Whatever the next steps are, I want to take them with you.

let the silver arrow fly by @solikerez

Leia plays cupid, and fires a few misshots before getting it right.

What We Do in the Snow by @reylotrashcompactor

The first time she dreamed of Starkiller, not much was different.

The Gamble by @nightsofreylo

Whenever you gamble, eventually you lose...

Matchmaker by @lariren-shadow

Bored with being a Force Ghost Anakin decides that his grandson needs some help in the relationship department.  Kylo Ren isn't too thrilled at the prospect but, then again, neither is Rey.

here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true by @the-reylo-void

Here is the place where I love you.

People Will Say by @reylotrashcompactor

In a ditch effort to coax the wary members of the Resistance into accepting the prodigal son Ben Solo back into their fold, General Leia Organa requests a hefty favor from Rey. "Behind every good man is a great woman" is how the saying goes, but the man formerly known as Kylo Ren isn't good, and Rey isn't sure that any manner of hand-holding is going to change people's minds about that.

crave my heart (it's bleeding in your hand) by @mnemehoshiko

She wakes with the taste of salt on her lips and screams in her head.

Dark Matter by @arcticelves

Rey is never really alone. Even on Ahch-To, beginning her training with Luke Skywalker, she is frequently interrupted by an uninvited visitor. But is he truly unwelcome?

kept in the dark (but you were there in front of me) by @mnemehoshiko

Ben Solo is nine when he dreams of sand and darkness.

Peace and Purpose by @the-reylo-void

Across the stars, Rey and Ben yearn for each other, neither able to move on, both facing the unending nights alone. But the Force longs for balance as surely as they long for each other.

Laid To Rest by @khaleesa

Ben wants to show Rey the galaxy, to see it with her. First, they have business on Naboo.

Endings and Beginnings by @shelikespretties

Rey’s hand cradles Ben’s head before it can hit the stone floor. He’s ridiculously heavy, all dead weight, and Rey’s entire body cramps in horror before she sees the faint rise and fall of his chest. He’s not dead. He hasn’t left her. Yet. She cradles his face with both hands and sobs in relief.

What Was Lost Is Now Found by @ceallaigheirinn​

With no memories of the past, his mind was nothing more than a void of vast emptiness. He couldn’t remember how he got there. It sounded insane, but he even wondered if he was actually there the moment before. When he closed his eyes, fleeting images of a metallic mask, a world collapsing on itself, the touch of a weathered hand across his cheek and a beautiful woman dressed in white flickered from the dark recesses of his mind. But none of it made sense. He had no idea what those images represented or who that woman was. Did she mean something to him? Was she an enemy, friend or lover?

a million miles (cross the ocean) by @mnemehoshiko

in which the Force tries to pay back some of the debt it owes the Skywalkers.

gift to me forever by LonelyLavenderBones, @luminoustico, TazWren, @thewayofthetrashcompactor

Palpatine has remained dead. Ben Solo followed in his mother’s footsteps and became the Senator of Chandrila, his mother training him in the Force instead of sending him to Luke. And, instead of being left on Jakku, Rey has been trained in the Force from childhood to help redeem the Palpatine name in the eyes of the galaxy's highest social circles.Now the princess of the ultimate Sith is due to make her debut, on the arm of her betrothed, Armitage Hux. But, the Force still has plans for Rey Palpatine and Ben Solo.

My own canonverse Reylo fics:

Rise

Ben Solo and Rey fake their deaths after Exegol and live their lives.

It was not Death, for I stood up

Emperor Palpatine lied on Exegol; Rey is not his granddaughter. Rey sets off on a journey, led by Obi-Wan Kenobi, to bring Ben Solo back from the World Between Worlds.

luminous beings are we

Rey and Ben survive Exegol.

the healing balance

The battle was over; the war was won. The Finalizer was a smoking ruin; General Hux’s attempted mutiny had backfired as the Resistance attacked and finally incapacitated the First Order leadership. Kylo Ren was missing, presumed dead at the hands of the last Jedi, who must have succumbed to her own injuries. Neither body was found. So said the initial official report of the aftermath.

Aggressive Negotiations

It was a shame, really, that Rey did not want her new assignment, did not want to be tempted by Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala’s grandson.

Calligraphy and Atonement

Ben Solo spends his time in exile trying not to think of Rey and keeps failing.

beam that lights the way home

The star lit their path to each other, and lit their way home together.

food for the soul

Rey struggles with new food and the knowledge that Kylo Ren is her soulmate.

you burn with me

Rey's soulmark burns when she meets Kylo Ren for the first time.

light brings forth hidden truths

Light brings forth hidden truths, and demonstrates the Force's balance.

Falling Embers

Rey takes Kylo Ren's hand after they have killed Snoke and his Praetorian Guards.

Force of Light

After celebrating the end of the war and Wookiee Life Day on the Resistance base, Rey heads out into the snow to meditate. Kylo Ren goes out after her...and learns the true reason for the season.

Wanting

Kylo Ren has wanted things his whole life.

My other fic rec lists:

Fic Recs Under 100 Kudos | Historical AU | Fantasy, Fae, Magic, Fairy Tale, and Mythology | Modern AU | Smuggler Ben Solo | Dark Side Rey | Smut |

[intricate-oeuvre]

On how to be deadly || Geralt of Rivia || part VII

Word count: 3.5k+ a thiccc one

Summary: Axelia is Witcher experiment herself and has gone through same harsh Trials as Geralt, but she wasn’t so lucky with the outcome. Her vision didn’t become better. Therefore, she was rendered blind in the end. And because of that, she solely uses her Witcher senses to make her ways. Only potions can give her false sense of sight for limited time.Somewhere along the way she meets the Rivian. Who’s interested to know how she’s been killing monsters and hasn’t been killed herself yet.

Warnings: heavy angst, fighting.

A/N: I HAVE HEARD YOUR VOICE, DEAR READERS, SO THE JASKIER ANGST CAN START IN NEXT CHAPTER!!!

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

A wolf is a wolf. Even in a cage. Even dressed in silk.

Both of them still were on the ground, fighting each other, when Axelia had landed a gut wrenching kick right between Geralt’s legs. Thus, sending him down on one knee.

“Oh, sweet Lord!” Jaskier winced at that, his own hands flying to cover himself.

“Should I help him?” Ciri asked as she did too wince at the unfair kick from Axelia.

“Who is she, Jaskier?” Yennefer asked before the bard could answer the first question. Yen’s eyes glued to girl’s precise movements.

“I…um… I have sworn to keep my mouth shut.” He glanced at the sorceress. Yennefer didn’t question anything else, for now, and just continued to watch.

That kick at Geralt had given Axelia window of time to recollect herself. Staying few steps in front of him, she leaned down and rested her hands on her knees. She felt angry, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was angry at everything, more so at the witcher in front of her. She was angry at whole fucking Continent. She was done fighting with grace, ready to get hands on dirty.

“You want to go again?!” she screamed at him, flailing her hands at her sides up.

“What are you trying to prove?” Geralt grunted as he spat out some blood to his side. With a slight wince he stood up, smearing the blood off of his lips onto the back of his hand.

“That I don’t need you!” Axelia continued to scream, as she started to round him helical. The sweat that had gathered on the back of her neck, made her feel cold every time when gust of wind caught on her skin.

“Yet, here you are.” Geralt stated as he regained his fighting stance and started the rounding too.

How could he say such things? Did he not know that she couldn’t do anything about it? That whatever she chose to do, she’ll always end up wherever he is? Has he forgotten that they are soulmates? Had all these years with Yennefer, really made him forget about such things?

Axelia’s eyes turned feral and with animalistic snarl she charged at him once again. This time he had expected her action. They had trained together, after all. With step to the side in very last second, Geralt got out of her way, making her miss him entirely. But with instantaneous turn Geralt reached for her high ponytail that seemed half messy now. And with a yank back and irritated scream that was almost on boarder of painful, she was wrenched back. Her body completely thrown out of balance as her head was yanked too far back, making her land on her back on the ground with a heavy thud. Jolting all breath out of her lungs. More tears gathering in her eyes. She was sure Geralt could break her, and he will if she won’t ask him to stop. He walked closer to her, leaning over.

“Are you done?” He spat with tilt of his head, same irritation on his face as on hers. Axelia bared her bloody teeth at his upside-down form.

“Why did you follow me?!” she seethed, her nails digging in the dirt besides her.

“It works both ways, you know.” Geralt said, resting his elbow on his knee, thus leaning closer down at her. He was breathing heavily while Axelia was still trying to regain her breath which had been knocked out of her just seconds ago.

“That is: why you were drawn here is the explanation why I followed you.” He said, as his eyes glanced at his own hand that Axelia had sunk her teeth into. With painful gulp she continued staring daggers at him. Which reminded her of the knife she kept in her right boots. Planting both of her feet on the ground and bending her legs at knees she seemed done with the fight.

“I assumed that you-” Geralt caught movement with corner of his eyes. Axelia’s hand was slowly creeping along the dirt towards her boot. Geralt moved swiftly and with a stomp, firmly planted his foot on her wrist. The sudden application of force and pressure making her hand crack. Axelia hissed at him, not sure if he had broken her wrist or not.

Geralt sent her a glare and then reached for her boot to pull out the dagger hiding in there. With that ‘are you for real’ look he raised eyebrow at her.

“What? You always told to have some contingency plan.” She rolled her eyes at him. Throwing the dagger to the side, he continued on whatever he wanted to tell her before:

“As I said, before you interrupted me so vulgarly,” he applied a little bit more pressure on her wrist, making his point clear: “I believed that you knew how that soulmate banter went.” He sighed.

“I don’t know two shits about soulmates!” Axelia spat, blood flying out of her mouth as she raised head higher. Geralt narrowed his eyes at her and stepped off of her hand. With huff she cradled her hand to her chest and sat up. Her face smeared with dirt and blood, only two lines seemed clear on her face- where the tears had streamed down her cheeks from frustration. Her hair in similar state with dirt and grass in her white strands. Geralt looked matching, his hair messy with dirt and stems of grass. His face sporting similar look with all the dirt and his bloody nose.

“You’re like a savage beast.” Geralt grunted out as he looked at his bitten hand again, turning it one way and then another.

“Yeah, and you almost broke my wrist.” She grumbled and moved her hand.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed gravely.

“You’re always running. Why?” witcher asked her after brief moment of silence.

“We have spectators.” Axelia said, turning to look over her shoulder, and letting out a small hiss of pain. Her ribs most likely were bruised. For a second Geralt turned to look on their audience, but didn’t heed any more attention than that.

“Axelia.” Geralt stated her name, still waiting for her answer.

“What? What do you want me to say? Why wouldn’t I run from something that I can’t really have? From something that could have been mine, but now it isn’t? The… The… All this, whatever.” She said looking at her dirty hands.

“It’s easier to run away from you, than to be reminded of all the what ifs.” She sighed looking up at him.

“I really am a failed experiment.” She groaned laying back on the ground and staring in the grey clouds, still holding her wrist to her chest.

“Stop that.” Geralt advised. Her eyes briefly flickered to him, questioning burning in her eyes.

“You’re doubting yourself again, stop that.” Geralt explained to her. She just let out half-amused chuckled at that, seeing no true humour in it. Truth be told, Geralt was and still is the only one who ever believed in her, in all the things she did, all the things she pursued. Maybe the only thing he didn’t believe, was her pursuit in soulmates.

“Aren’t you in the position to talk.” Axelia started cynically. “You have love of your life, and she has you… Odd triangle, if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes and finally pulled herself up.

“I must leave, Geralt.” She said turning to him, her eyes momentarily jumping behind him, where one in the distance could see those three on-watchers.

“That’s her. With the dark hair, isn’t it?” she asked, slightly distracted.

“Yes.”

“And that’s… law of surprise child, Ciri…” she trailed off in her observations.

“Yes, and the third is the bard.” Geralt said with slight annoyance in his voice. Axelia’s eyes flickered back to Geralt’s face, her eyebrows furrowing. Without any other words, she turned and started to walk away. Feeling that she should finally give up on her love life. Even if it meant to lie to her own heart every time, she’ll ever stumble upon the witcher. It’s taking toll on her, nor her body, nor her mind and nor her heart could take any more damage.

“To whom are you trying to prove that?” Geralt asked in reminiscence on previous talk, when he didn’t find anything else to say to her to stop her from leaving. Axelia stopped and turned around to look at him.

“Myself.” She said determined about her answer, but it soon that feling disappeared: “I thought that I will prove it today. But then you decided to follow me. And ruin my self-restrain.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to stay away from you, whenever I learn that you are near. It’s like you have this magnetic pull that I can’t resist. My body is ready to go through such dreadful lengths just to bask in your presence. Does that make me clingy or weak? It does, but in that moment, I do not give a single flying fuck. Because that’s how soulmates work, Geralt. You asked me if I know. And I do. I have visited too many mages and sorcerers, just to get rid of all these connections and feelings. Even tried to find a fucking djinn, can you believe?” Axelia started her monologue. Back in Kaer Morhen she always was the one who felt most emotions.

“I want to start o'er so much.” She said quietly to herself, tears of desperation gathering in her eyes. Looking up at the sky, she tried to will them away.

“See? You always have my emotions fucked up.” She smiled at him through tears in her eyes. She was so deep in woods of emotions, and right now, all she wanted was to get into the clear and get rid of everything.

Geralt stood up straighter, about to take a step closer to her. But at the moment she seemed like scared animal, and with shake of her head, she took a step back. Geralt hated to see her cry. She was such of strong woman, such a fierce warrior that could be broken and beaten to the pulp, but she still would stand up and fight, and when she was crying, it meant that she was truly and utterly broken. Not only physically but also mentally.

“Axelia.” Geralt said quietly, cautiously stretching one hand in front of him, showing that he didn’t mean harm.

“Geralt.” Axelia chocked out in same manner. How did she turn from blood spitting fighter into this soft, trembling creature, was beyond Geralt’s apprehension? Did all these years, so far and yet so close to each other, left her in this state of half breaking? This reminded him when they both went through Trials of Dreams where they were going through mutations to improve their vision. He remembered all the screams, grunts and moans of pain as mutations took effect. And when the pain had ended came the clairvoyance. This epiphany type of feeling when one could see in the clearest way, catching every single dust particle in air. He had smelled that velvet rose and sandalwood in the air, signifying that he was still alive. But the utmost silence coming from besides him, where on the other table was supposedly Axelia, made dread settle deep in his gut

“Axelia?” he had questioned her silence as his eyes fell upon her face, the first thing he had the chance to see when he reopened his eyes after all that agonizing pain. And her face had looked like it did now. Full with cruel hurt, tears streaming down her face, as her mouth was half-open in silent scream.

“Geralt?” she had asked, voice trembling, her whole being shaking. The first thing he saw with his new eyes that he had gained through pain, was even more pain. On the face of a girl that was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen; on a person he loves and cares for.

“Geralt? Is everything alright?” Both of them could hear Yennefer’s voice closer. Geralt looked over his shoulder and Axelia looked past him, both of them noticing that all three of them had advanced closer. Yennefer and Ciri quite bravely walking closer, while Jaskier walked behind them – latter knowing better than to interfere.

“I’m dying a little every time I see you with her.” Axelia dried her nose in her sleeve as her eyes turned back to him. But she couldn’t stop them from flicking back to Yennefer and Ciri who still came closer, wanting to know what was going on.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Ciri looked from Geralt to the girl that was in front of them- crying, trembling and holding her injured wrist in her hand close to her heart.

Axelia’s eyes were skipping from one person to another. Too many eyes looking at her, while she was crying and being weak. She was witcher, Geralt never was like that. Her eyes stopped at the sword and dagger that were now in Ciri’s hands. Fuck that, she’ll live without that silver sword for some time. It was very expensive, but she’ll manage. Then her eyes flickered to Yennefer, who was looking at her with confusion. Then to Geralt who’s expression she couldn’t read. Back to Ciri who looked upon the crying girl with sympathy and concern. And in the end her eyes caught on her cloak that Jaskier was holding and her blindfold that was wrapped around his other arm in nonchalant way. It was such contrast, the black fabric with his dark blueish outfit. Axelia’s teary eyes flashed up to meet his. Only apologetic look gracing his features. She-witcher felt so bad and useless at the moment. She awkwardly looked down at the ground and with sob looked up. At no one in particular, somewhere above everybody’s heads. With her tongue running along the front of her teeth, Axelia turned around and went into the forest. Her only escape.

And she run.

And run. The only thing that she knew how to do.

No one followed her, but their eyes collectively turned to Geralt, who was still staring at the forest trees.

“Really, Geralt?” Jaskier questioned, his brows furrowing.

“What did you do?” Ciri asked, her eyes flickering to the woods for a second until returning to Geralt.

“Which time is it? The fourth or something, that you just let her leave like that?” Jaskier continued.

Witcher didn’t answer. And Yennefer didn’t seem happy either.

“I do hope someone will explain all of this.” She said tad annoyed. With slight anger bubbling in her eyes she looked at Jaskier then at Ciri and finally at Geralt. With a grunt witcher turned around and went back to the city, Yennefer hot on his heels and not shutting up about this whole ordeal.

“Dandelion, are you coming?” Ciri asked as she was already walking towards the forest. Jaskier looked at the cloak and tulle fabric in his hands and then looked up at Ciri.

“Are you sure, you can find her?” Jaskier furrowed his brows while catching up with Ciri.

“Geralt thought me, of course I can.” Ciri rolled her eyes playfully and walked along the road that led into the forest.

They had been walking for some time.

“So, who is she?” Ciri asked.

“To me or to Geralt?” Jaskier asked, rearranging his grip on the dark cloak.

“Oh, so she is something to you too?!” Ciri stopped for a second. Geralt once or twice had mentioned something about soulmates and the fact the he had one too. And Ciri today had made a bet with herself that the girl from earlier must have some connections to Geralt, mostly likely this all soulmates thing.

“She is his soulmate, right?” Ciri guessed, glancing down at the sword in her hands.

“Yep.” Jaskier popped the p. Then he explained everything that Geralt had let him know about Axelia, but keeping the details that she herself had told him, to himself.

Meanwhile Axelia was running on the road, hair already fallen out of that messed up ponytail. Her ears catching the sound of stream somewhere on her right. Deep in the woods, off the road. Everything was closing in and she needed to escape. Taking a sharp turn, she dodged into the woods, not following road anymore. She was running, trees scratching her face, her feet stumbling on the fallen tree branches. Her lungs were burning, and her hands started to claw at her corset. With scream of anger she pulled open the string that laced it together at the front. With half-revealed hiss, she threw corset away, her hands latching onto her forearm braces and ridding herself from them too. Unbuttoning first four buttons from the top of her shirt, she leaned against nearby tree. Tears choking her and not letting her take a deep breath of air. She sunk to the ground. Letting out a silent scream as her hands clawed at ground, her nails digging through dead leaves and dirt. She was drowning in her own tears. Breathes just coming out in broken sobs as she tried to pull in new air with choked wheezes. Everything hurt so much, that she couldn’t even stand up anymore. Her mind was worsening her, playing sweet and cherished memories before her blind eyes. She didn’t want to remember anything! She just wanted to be swallowed up by the sound of the stream that was couple feet in front of her.

“No! Stop!” she screamed at herself, her dirty nails now digging in her long hair, and pulling at the tress with such force that her face was pulled up in even more agony. Her thoughts were running circles with unwanted memories. At times, at such quantity that she was ready to run in a tree head first, and just bash her head against it until she won’t feel a thing anymore. She broke, bruised and completely alone.

***

“Why aren’t we staying on the road?” Jaskier asked, as he and Ciri were now in middle of woods and not on a trusty path anymore.

“Because she went this way.” Ciri noted as she looked at all the freshly broken branches and footprints left from Axelia’s stumbles.

“Is this hers?” Ciri asked picking up Axelia’s corset.

“And those are her vambraces...?” Jaskier nodded towards the dark forearm braces that were thrown on the ground further ahead. One further than the other. Beckoning towards Axelia’s whereabouts.

“She mostly likely is at the river.” Ciri concluded.

“Let’s hope she’s not trying to drown herself.” Jaskier mumbled walking onward.

Axelia heard them before anything else. Silent whispers flowing in the wind. And part of her told her to get up and run. But all she could manage to do was sit up against the big tree.

“Oh, please, no…” She mumbled as her tears now were silent. Occasional sob escaping her. She clumped her mouth shut, to shut herself up. Her legs were drawn to her torso, and her chin tilted down towards her chest. With fear she was waiting for the scent to finally reach her. And when she felt it, more panic settled in. At first, she felt rich fragrance, something akin to wild berries, very refined. But her panic subsided a little, when a familiar scent hit her senses. Her head immediately snapped up, her eyes welling up even more. It was familiar, but not familiar in a way that could make her run away again. It was scent that reminded her of the times when she needed someone to resort in, someone she could rely on and talk freely to. Not hiding her emotions, not keeping up the perfect witcher image. She had needed trusty ears, who would listen and not judge her. Someone who could give her false shelter from outside world and her own emotions. Even if it was for a little moment.

Then she heard the sound of two pairs of feet stepping through the dry leaves. The sound of crunching making her feel like scared animal, who is waiting for the predator to finally strike. The gentle breeze of wind, made the two scents more prominent. The second scent making her risk all of it and glance around the big tree trunk. She carefully putted her hand on the ground and with one eye she peered behind the tree. Her eyes scanned over the trees, firstly catching on the white-haired girl, that was saying something, her eyes glued on the ground in front of her feet. Then her eyes zeroed onto the second person.

Jaskier was the first of two who noticed Axelia hiding behind a tree. With small gasp he slowed his steps. Trying to show to the hurt girl, that he meant no harm. At that Ciri noticed her too, and stopped all together, not wanting to make the girl feel threatened.

“Axelia?” Jaskier questioned her, still slowly approaching her. Axelia’s eyes locked with his at the call of her name.

“Jaskier…” Axelia choked as she quickly pushed herself up. Pushing off of a tree she run to him, crushing in his chest as tears stared falling down her cheeks again, staining his shirt. Praying that she could just wish all this away.

“I’m here.” He mumbled in her hair, his eyes briefly flicking to Ciri, who only held all the sympathy for the girl in Jaskier’s arms.

~~~~

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

tags:

@boiled-onionrings​ @fandomwithnolifesblog​ @901seconds​ @kingniazx​ @shesakillerkween @your-dreams-are-strong​ @stitchattacks​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @stormfire6​ @mr-illegal-king​ @stretchkingblog97​ @mikariell95​ @geralt-of-motherfucking-rivia​ @martian-m​ @republicansithlord​ @notso-fetch​ @lizliz3107​ @godlydolans​ @arsaky-lou​ @eternallyvenus​ @le-reina-asesina @alwayshave-faith​ @writingmi​ @staringmoony​ @kenai731 @holychic​ @dramaticturnaway​ @ihopeyousteponarosepetal​ @seouldesire​ @runs-with-sciss0rs @yes-captainstark​​ @fandomhell97​​ @newtdisneywho​​

[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part iii: what i mean when i say

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 4k

GIF originally posted by @lukhei​

Haewon’s day starts briefly like this – a backache verging on cataclysmic, a phone that is ringing off the hook and a thunderous sizzle from the kitchen that could be an auditory representation of Johnny cooking up a storm for no particular reason on a Saturday morning.

“Johnny Suh, you know you’re not allowed to touch the kitchen as long as I am in the house.” She gripes as she walks out of her bedroom upon washing up.

“It’s my house,” Johnny argues, just as he places a fork and knife on either side of the dish he has prepared for her. “And - you’re welcome. Johnny’s homemade blueberry pancakes.”

“Please, you should be thanking me,” she says, sliding all her hair across one shoulder and digging into the pancakes. “Plus, what if I wanted waffles? That would void your compensation.”

“I can make you waffles later if you want,” Johnny winks. “Although, we can argue that pancakes really don’t deserve such discrimination if waffles aren’t accorded the same breakfast ghettoization - they’re practically made of the same ingredients.”

Haewon studies him with narrowed eyes. “That good, huh?”

“Whaddya mean?” Johnny’s expression turns sheepish.

“Ghettoization?” She returns the question, moving her hair behind her shoulder and smirking, “you’re rambling, it’s written all over your face, you sad sad man-child.”

He jauntily sits himself on the chair in front of her, the grin on his face too pleased to be contrite. “It was good.”

“We really ought to soundproof your room, she literally woke me up-”

The lady in question chooses this opportune moment to make her presence known, sauntering up to Haewon and Johnny as she buckles her watch to her wrist. Haewon’s head whips towards Johnny with glaring eyes, while Johnny discreetly mouths an apology back to her. They had laid down the quintessential rule (the rule that makes all ground rules obsolete) when Haewon had moved in in early 2017 - staying over’s only okay after the fifth date; if you want to have a one-night stand, book yourself a hotel. This is Johnny’s second infraction of the year (not that Haewon is counting, she has too much of a life for that). She hears Johnny’s date of four times stop short in front of them.

“Youngho-ah, who’s this lady and what’s she doing eating your pancakes in her underwear?”

Haewon drops her gaze onto herself as Johnny stands to give the accuser a kiss on the temple. It’s clearly just a camisole that’s in question, though given what Johnny’s lover is planning to wear out of the apartment, it’s sort of audacious of her to bring this up when she’s really giving Haewon a run for her money.

“This is Haewon, baby, my roommate. I grew up with her back in the U.S.”

“Ah,” Said lover reaches her hand out to shake Haewon’s in an oddly formal manner, her coffin nails digging slightly into the back of her hand. Haewon guesses the sigh that emits from her lips right after she studies her has more to do with relief than recognition.

Shrugging internally, Haewon sits back down to finish her breakfast as she hears Johnny and his partner-she-can’t-give-a-name-to-‘cause-Johnny-said-no-labels kiss noisily and bid goodbye, as she eyes said partner’s figure. Yeap, Johnny’s definitely a titties man.

“It was a crime of passion, your honor!” Johnny dramatically pleads once the door shuts as Haewon shakes her head vigorously and mutters, “that’s not how you use it”.

“You’re cleaning the apartment the whole of next month,” Haewon insists, before her eyes widen as a thought flits into her head, “oh my God, you guys didn’t do it on the couch, did you-”

“Of course not! I’m not an animal!” Johnny pretends to be scandalized, “and, come on. It was 2am. I couldn’t kick her out of bed - what can I say, I’m a gentleman. A modern romantic.”

“I think you catastrophically misinterpret the word ‘romantic’.”

Despite the inflection, Johnny is, one-hundred percent, a hopeless romantic - something Haewon quickly learnt after witnessing the poor man get dumped over the phone a while after she had relocated to Seoul. Johnny believes in the concept of soulmates, the proverbial ‘one’, and an ancient concept that most people would currently refer to as ‘destiny’. The manifestation of his soulmate pursuit is countless dates and relationships, grandiose expressions of love and a penchant for serenading his lovers with roses from their windows - a gesture not every Korean woman appreciates especially at 11pm on a Thursday night.

“I think I’m gonna marry her, Haewon,” Johnny tells her now, with a sparkle in his eye, “I think she's the one.”

Haewon looks at him disbelievingly. “You’ve been on four dates, John.”

“I know, but it feels so right, you know?” He smiles softly in a moment of clairvoyance, standing up to clear their plates. “Speaking of marrying someone, isn’t there something you need to do on Monday?”

Haewon rolls her eyes. Subtlety has never been his strong suit.

There’s a reason Johnny has been calling Monday D-day for the past week, and repeatedly using phrases that border on annoying such as ‘it’s go time’ and ‘let’s get it’. Monday would mark the return of a highly anticipated Kim Doyoung, and Johnny is adamant that Haewon should tell Doyoung, especially since Inhee has not confessed about what she's done.

“Isn’t it possible that she might want to tell him face-to-face?”

“If it was me,” Johnny straddles the chair in mock confrontation, balancing his arms on the seat. “If this was me, would you be saying something so naïve?”

“But it’s not you-”

“If the conditions were the same, but it was me instead of Doyoung, you know you would tell me in a heartbeat. And I would appreciate it, Haewon, just as he would.”

“You’re not doing this for yourself,” he looks at Haewon with a seriousness that silences her. “Don’t beat yourself up over something you have no reason to. You’re doing it for Doyoung.”

“The moment he reaches work, you march into his office, and you tell him truthfully what you saw. No one can accuse you of anything when you’re just being truthful.”

There’s a sign on the wall at the far right corner of the office that says “There’s no room for losers”. It’s a signature Fulworth saying, especially when things get tough at work. 

Haewon has never felt particularly perturbed by it until now. She can almost hear the enunciation of the word ‘losers’ in his low, gruff voice.

Unlike Johnny’s prediction, Haewon’s will isn’t the only thing stopping her from talking to Doyoung about his fiancée when Monday comes. The issue turns out to be a lot less 1980s-movie-dramatic than they had expected – a case of timing.

Doyoung has been in and out of meetings since he entered the office after lunch.

It’s not even like Haewon has been systematically avoiding him. Doyoung barely had a chance to say hi to her and update her about the situation at Bertsman when he had been whisked away by a very anxious Lee Donghyuck, who had been held in trepidation for the last two weeks due to the declining sales figures. Haewon had laughed, gotten back to the copy she had been working on for Cho Young Jun’s book press release, her stomach lurching at the thought of what she had to do later.

There's no room for losers, the neat cursive print stares back at her from the wall.

It’s only hours later, when the sky has turned pitch black and the hour hand on the clock has pointed to ten, that Haewon begrudgingly creaked her joints into motion as she made her way to the Managing Editor’s office, cursing Johnny and all that he stood for as a person.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s lips breaks into a smile and stands up suddenly, with only the harsh light from the desk lamp illuminating his face. “I thought I told you to leave at six, I don’t even know when I can leave the office…”

“Doyoung works late every night. We hardly spend much time in the same room anymore. We don’t even talk anymore, about our lives and our work.”

“Boss, you just got back late last night. You should rest.” She tries, “and, well, your fiancée might be waiting up…”

“It’s okay, Inhee understands,” Doyoung laughs, “besides, I sort of have to undo literally everything the Bertsman employees have done. That’s what I’ve been saying, you can’t trust any one of their employees, they don’t do things the way we do,” he smirks.

Haewon smiles softly at him, even if he cannot see, his eyes trailing after the lines on the paper in front of him.

“Ah, but what can I do? I’m just a worker ant.” He flops his arms around, as if mimicking an actual worker ant.

This action doesn’t bring Haewon laughter as she had expected. Instead, her heart feels like it’s been wrung, the sudden tightening in her chest inexplicable. She doesn’t know if it’s a biological reaction, but tears have started to fill her eyes, and there seems to be nothing else she can do but blink them back.

This is the Doyoung that Haewon has fallen in love with, all five foot ten of him, gummy smile and square shoulders, a kind boss and a workaholic - but how real her feelings are doesn’t and cannot negate how ill-placed the same feelings are in their situation. Here he is, looking at her, grinning at her, as her vision blurs. In that moment, she swears she hears something in her break; a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem.

“Oh by the way, you really need to get back to me on the wedding,” he laughs breathily, “I really need that RSVP-”

“I can’t go.” The words leave her before she realizes, breath seeming to return to her lungs temporarily. “I… I can’t attend your wedding.”

His face falls.

“Oh, you have something that day?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No, I…” She looks down, licking her lips and inhaling shakily. “I can't attend your wedding, because…”

“Haewon.”

“Because… Because I like you.”

She hears more than sees his reaction, the pen in his hand slipping through his fingers and thudding gently onto the carpeted floor. “Haewon.”

“Because I like you,” her voice is still shaky, but there’s a part of her that’s calmer than ever before. “I can’t attend your wedding.”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, but Doyoung’s expression remains unreadable. She feels her jaw start to quiver, and clenches down on it.

“I like you, Doyoung. I like you so much that I can’t sleep, can’t think. I like you, I want to be with you, but you know what I also want?” She lets out a shaky breath, “I want you to be happy…”

It’s not like a leaky faucet, or a dam breaking. Instead, it’s like the little Dutch boy had pulled his finger out of her chest, because suddenly everything inside her is spilling out at once.

“But I see you everyday,” she shuts her eyes, and the tears flow at their will, “I don’t… know… what to do. Believe me, if I could will these feelings away, I would. I don’t want to feel so pathetic, I don’t want to like you like this.

“But I’ve also realized that I can’t be that… person, who stands on the sidelines and watches as you marry someone else - I can’t, I couldn’t do that to myself. I’m sorry. This is so out of line and you probably don’t want to hear this.” She inhales shakily, shutting her eyes as she pauses. “I’m sorry for telling you this… I just… I just needed you to know.”

Doyoung looks at her as if in a daze, his own lips quivering, until almost immediately, his head falls and he inhales sharply, as if giant invisible scissors had cut off his marionette strings.

“Why… Why now.”

Her eyes widen. “What do you-”

“Why are you telling me this, Haewon?” Doyoung looks at her like she’s missing a point, like she’s the most breakable thing in the world. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Her eyes sting with fresh tears. She can feel something rising in her throat - a sob, a scream - but she bites it back, shutting her eyes so tightly there are almost tears that refuse to escape. She hates herself for crying, for showing any weakness here, for thinking she ever had a shot with someone like him.

There's no room for losers, but in that moment, she can’t help but feel like she has become one.

It’s Friday, finally the end of the week.

She softly clicks the pen in her hand open and close, drifting in and out as Huang Renjun drones on and on about the press kits they are planning to prepare for the media and why the Marketing Department needed more of the budget to be allocated to them.

This meeting has lasted way too long, and it feels even longer with Doyoung right next to her, the sleeve of his jacket inches away from hers. He's scribbling down notes diligently, making her existence in the meeting obsolete - it’s been like this the whole week, and Haewon is exhausted. She knows what Doyoung is doing, how he’s taking meeting minutes down like someone who doesn’t have an assistant so he doesn’t have to ask her for them later. Despite the promise of putting what happened behind them on Monday, she’s entirely aware that things will never be the same again.

The envelope sitting in her bag is still warm, its contents only freshly printed this morning. She vaguely hears Kim Jungwoo asking a question before all eyes are suddenly turned towards her.

All, but Doyoung's.

She looks around the room, befuddled, while feeling Yuta’s foot nudge hers gently, presumably to get her to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally says.

“Manager Kim asked if you had too much on your plate,” the timid intern next to Kim Jungwoo speaks up, “and if you were willing to undertake more of the comms with Cho Young Jun himself.”

She opens her mouth, surprised, and turns to Kim Jungwoo.

“As we were saying, before you spaced out on us,” he laughs good-naturedly, “we let him read the copy you wrote and he likes it. He specified that he wants to work with you.”

Haewon’s gaze drops to her notebook, where a messily scrawled question blinks back at her. Today or next week? She blinks, momentarily realizing that the decision presented to her now accounted for more in the future than she had thought.

“I… That would be a great opportunity for me, thank you.”

Kim Jungwoo grins. “Don’t thank me, your boss told the boy that you were highly supportive of his work. Of course he would be excited to work with you.”

She turns towards Doyoung, a wide-eyed Doyoung, a Doyoung who only looks back at her now, his eyes not betraying any emotion.

There’s something about placing the envelope on his desk that makes it so official, a breath of fresh air that comes from a gesture that’s so unabashedly melodramatic and passé. Doyoung eyes the envelope warily, clearly this was not something he had imagined.

“Why is it… addressed to me? Why isn’t it in an email?” Doyoung drops his glasses onto his desk, pressing his fingers gently against his eyelids. “Why… What is this, Haewon?”

“I just…” She licks her lips. “I just wanted to make sure you received it, is all.”

Doyoung looks at her for a moment, then gets up and shuts the door of his office, before clicking on the button below his desk, rendering the glass office translucent.

“Tell me, Haewon, what is this about? Is it because of Monday?”

She winces, remembering the state of mess she had reduced herself to that night. The only thing more pathetic than confessing to someone who’s engaged, is confessing to someone who’s engaged while crying.

“No, boss, of course not. I thought we agreed to put it behind us.”

“I thought we did too,” he says, sighing and standing with his hands on his waist. “Then what’s this about? I mean, do you want… a raise? What can I-”

“No no no, please don’t think that way. I applied for a Literary Arts Masters’ at Brown University,” Doyoung’s remains bewildered. “I want to be a writer, and, I want to study for it.”

Doyoung inhales shakily. “I mean, I know you wanted to write, but… You should have told me about this. I would’ve written you a letter of recommendation…”

“Well I got in,” she shrugs and smiles, “and… I want to do it. I’ll be admitted in the fall, so I’m moving soon.”

It’s almost like she can see the gears shifting in Doyoung’s head, the mental calculations as apparent. “Is that what you wanted to tell me on Monday? When you came into my office, is that the, well,” he licks his lips, “more technical reason why you can’t come to my wedding?”

Not entirely, she thinks. “Well, it’s one of them.”

Doyoung settles himself back into his chair, absentmindedly rearranging the stationery on his desk. “I don’t want a new assistant.”

Her heart sinks. “I know you’re stressed. I’m sorry, and… this feels irresponsible, that I didn’t tell you this earlier. Thing is, I didn’t really believe I would get in, and I got my letter so late, so now I only have the next three months…” She pauses, realizing that none of this should be important in the discussion. “That’s why I’m giving you a month’s notice instead of the required two weeks, I’m sorry that this is what I can only leave you with, but I want to help as much as I can. I swear, boss, I’ll get handovers done as best as I can, whether the recruitment is internal or external, I’ll make sure the transition is as smooth as possible for you-”

“No, I mean…” Doyoung stands up, the pinstripes of his suit bouncing against the light as he does, and walks slowly towards Haewon, standing right in front of her.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

If there's anything she'll miss, it's how Doyoung always leaves her breathless. The sincerity in his eyes twinkling like unshed tears, the way he just looks softly at her like this, his lips pursed tightly and making the small, almost unnoticeable scar by the corner of his lips more prominent. This is the Doyoung that makes her heart soar, an unspoken tenderness dancing across his features. But with this Doyoung also comes an unmistakable truth glaring right back at her.

“No one is irreplaceable, Doyoung,” she starts, a lump rising in her throat, “especially not me. And I think it’s clear that this week has proven that we are no longer able to work together properly because of my feelings and the awkwardness that it has caused.”

“I was trying to give you space-”

“I don’t need space, Doyoung!”

“What was I supposed to say? What am I supposed to say, Haewon? I’m engaged!”

He looks at her for a long time, then sighs and turns away exasperatedly, tears darting in his eyes.

And there it is - the bubble that has popped, the pink elephant in the room. Because the truth is, from start to finish, as selfish and morally repugnant as it is, Haewon had foolishly hoped for a future with this man somehow in some way, even when it had never been possible.

“You’re right,” Haewon feels her eyes sting, but she has promised herself that she is not going to cry in front of Doyoung ever again. They aren’t close enough for that.

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry, I don't know what I was expecting, why I said what I said.” She shakes her head, attempting to breathe again.

“Besides, your engagement isn’t the only thing standing in the way of anything happening between us.”

Doyoung looks up immediately. “What do you mean by that?”

Haewon winces and swallows, unwilling to spell it out. “I mean, you don’t… feel the same way, at all.”

There comes a point when things are undeniable and can't be hidden any longer, even from yourself.

“I never should have told you about it,” her voice comes out as a whisper this time, unintentionally intimate.

“I’m sorry - even with everything that I said that day, it only occurred to me after, how truly stupid and inappropriate it was… in the office, no less.” Doyoung begins to shake his head, but she continues. “I don't have an excuse for it, I’m sorry - but I swear I’m not… for the lack of a better word, punishing you or anyone else with my resignation. Even before telling you, I was bent on moving overseas for the degree. So Doyoung, you really don’t have to feel guilty or anything - you don’t owe me anything, I shouldn’t have said anything.

“At the same time… The chance for me to pursue my dream is too rare to give up on.

“You’ve done so well before I came into your life, you’re gonna be okay.”

Doyoung averts his gaze away once again, putting his hands into his pockets, and alternating between resting his weight on his left and right foot.

“You’re wrong, you know, you’ve never been more wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

He finally looks up, his eyes filled with sadness enough to keep Haewon from taking a step out of his office. Outside, phones are ringing and people are talking, noisy and continuous and completely unaware. But here, there is a Doyoung who looks at her like she could break easily, as he contemplates whether or not the next words have to be said, if at all.

“You said no one is irreplaceable, but you’re irreplaceable to me.”

It’s finally down to the last week of her work - and a part of Haewon feels guilty to admit that it is a relief.

This is what Doyoung and Haewon has been reduced to - two people who would rather send each other emails than talk face-to-face, even if it’s about work. On the bright side - if there is one - the diminished duties mean that Haewon has been given ample time to interview, recruit and train Doyoung’s new assistant - a dogged 25-year-old fresh graduate with a double major in Journalism and Communications who has an unhealthy obsession with cars, whom the younger estrogen-infused female interns label “daddy material”.

“Ready?” Johnny smiles as he shoves his keys in his pants pocket.

She slides her bag across her shoulder and looks at him up and down. “Johnny, you’re not ready.”

“Oh right! Shit,” Johnny mumbles to himself, rushing to his room to get his shirt.

It’s 8.25am, which means that Johnny’s definitely going to be late, since he’ll drop Haewon off at her office first, but Johnny doesn’t really seem to care. She laughs to herself, picking up her phone just as a message notification chimes.

Haewon, I’m so sorry I can’t tell you this myself, but I will be on personal leave for the entire week. I know you’re mostly done with handovers and training Jeno, but I’ll need you to hold the fort for this last week - just check your email, you’ll understand everything. I’m so sorry I can’t be here for your last week. Thank you.

Personal leave? What kind of emergency would-

“Haewon!” Johnny jogs out of his room, his phone and shirt in his hands. “Did you know?”

His eyes are wide with shock, his mouth open. He swallows, taking in Haewon’s equally baffled expression.

“I just got a call from my Mom. The wedding’s off…”

xx

w/n: dear friends, please do not zone out in meetings. it doth not helpeth thee.

also, johnny is a giant teddy bear

come scream at me!! here :-)

[violetnotez]

Winter Dance

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Genre: Angsty but Fluff at end

Word Count: 3900

Warnings: Slight cuss words if ya squint

Summary: The winter dance is coming to UA in a few weeks and everyone is scrambling for a date- will your long time best friend/ crush Izuku Midoriya ask you out?

One Shot

(RULES | MASTERLIST COMING SOON| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

-----------------------------

Walking down the hallways, you always seemed to get in your own head. Everything seemed to dissolve around you, the world disappearing in place for your thoughts.

Right now, you were thinking about the practical exams, tests, and all the homework you had to do because you tend to procrastinate, until your best friend (and crush) flitted into your mind. Izumi Midoriya has been one of your best friends for as long as you could remember. After Bakugou had made fun of your quirk when you were little, little Midoriya was the only one having the courage to stand up for you. Your quirk was a unique one: you were a shapeshifter. If you touched someone or even held something they owned, you could shapeshift into them instantly. Either people found it interesting or creepy, but Izuku didn’t see it like that. He thought it was just awesome you had a quirk in the first place. He was the nicest boy you had ever met, and you two had been inseparable since. Over the years though, you realized you liked Izuku more than a friend. His infectious optimissium, his pursuit to be the best hero against all odds, and his adorable awkwardness made it hard for you not to notice how much you liked him. But he was your best friend, and if he didn't feel the same, you would be mortified and completely embarrassed. Your friendship would be over and you couldn't take the idea of a life without Izuku. So you suppressed all your feelings for him in hopes that maybe one day they would go away.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn around abruptly and startling you.To your relief (and horror), it was only the boy you were hopelessly falling for, his wide eyed, freckled face looking up slightly at yours. 

“Geez Midoriya!” You blushed, feeling how close your bodies were. “You couldn’t have scared me more!?”

“S-sorry y/n!” He apologized, stuttering slightly. He seemed to always be in a state of embarrassment, which was totally adorable to you but completely annoying to him.

He was breathing a little hard, as if he had just ran a long ways.

“I-I needed to ask you something,” he said in between pants as you both shuffled through the crowded hallways.

“Ask away,” you replied, sneaking peeks at his face. It was flushed red, his freckles even more prominent against the red of his face as his shoulders heaved with each breath.

“I-I need to ask for a favor,” he replied, looking down at his feet, his hands wringing nervously.

“Okay...What kind of favor?” you asked cautiously, trying to see the look in his eyes- but you couldn't. Midoriya’s head was hanging so low, his green, messy hair was completely covering his eyes. 

“Its uh...its kind of a secret…”

He looked from side to side, making sure no one was paying attention to you two.

You looked at him in confusion, not understanding why he was being so secretive. 

“I need a place to tell her in secret,” he thought quietly, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought were to go. He looked to his right, realizing a classroom door was open. 

“In here!” He sighed in relief, grabbing your hand as he pulled you in.

The fact that he took your hand caused your breath to hitch, his hand feeling so perfect in yours-it was surprisingly soft, but you could feel the few spots that were calloused. 

He let go too soon, your skin feeling cold without his touch and your chest a little heavier. 

You looked at him confused, having no idea what was going on or why he was acting this way. 

“Alright Midoriya,” you stared, your cheeks slightly red, “whats going on?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

He peaked a look at you from under his messy curls, a small smile playing on his lips.

“So...um… you know how the Winter Dance is in a few weeks?”

“Yeah, of course! That’s all anyone’s been talking about,” you replied, “everyone has been scrambling for dates because of it.”

You should know- the boys have been fidgety and weird ever since the Dance was announced- all of them wanted a date, and a cute one at that. To your surprise, You had been actually getting some proposals, but of course it was from the boys that were most desperate: like Mineta, Denki, and even Sero surprisingly. Each proposal you would brush off, always telling Izuku about how silly they were. He of course, would laugh along, but his face always looked strained when you brought it up- as if something inside him was hurting. You would nervously and as politely as possible  tell the boys “no”, not wanting to face the fact that you were saying “no” because you were hoping that it would be Izuku who asked you next. 

You looked at your best friend in confusion- until your heart stopped at a sudden realization.

Is he asking you out?

“Yeah...yeah-everyone,” he stuttered quietly, “I’ve just been having a lot of trouble.”

“What trouble-like-like asking someone?” you questioned, your voice shaking from nervousness.

Was it really going to happen?

“Yes!” he sighed in relief. “Ive been actually wanting to ask Uraraka to the dance, but I’ve been second guessing myself and not doing it. I’m afraid someone else will ask her soon, and I’ll never get the chance. Which is why I’d like to-maybe, if it’s alright-practice asking her. With your quirk!”

He smiled wide, his hopeful look the opposite of yours. Your heart felt crushed- you had thought that maybe things would be in your favor for once, that he would ask you, but that clearly was wishful thinking. He liked Uraraka- who wouldn’t? Smart, sweet, and selfless, Uararaka was perfect for Izuku. You couldn’t deny that. 

Izuku noticed your shocked face, taking it as you were undecided about the plan.

“We could meet before dinner, when no one is at the training grounds,” he rushed, “Id bring something of Uraraka’s so you can use your quirk, and you wouldn't have to worry about anything. Just- if I could practice a little on how I would ask her, just for a few minutes, I'll feel much more confident-“

Even though your heart was crestfallen from this huge blow,  the idea of him asking you to meet up, alone, made your heart pound, even though you hated it. 

“Uh-sure! I guess that'll work,” you replied hastily, forcing a smile at the blushing Izuku.

He grinned, his face lighting up “Thank you so,so much y/n! Oh- uh-Ill see you later!”

And with that, he ran out the door, leaving you feeling defeated in the empty room.

The sun was setting over the mountains at UA, the sky a range of pinks, oranges, and reds. 

You were walking the familiar walk to the training grounds, each step full of a strange combination of excitement and dread.

Izuku didn't like you, but somehow you were still holding on to that small hope that he did, against all odds.

It was kind of strange of you, given the circumstances

But Maybe he did.

Izuku stood standing in the middle of the field, the dusty dirt beginning to cake onto the white of his red shoes. He held Uraraka’s sweatband gingerly in his hand, feeling slightly guilty for sneaking it off of her. He would bring it back to her, he promised himself that, it just felt wrong.

Especially since he was having second thoughts about all this.

For some reason, he couldn't get you off his mind. Ever since the Winter Dance was announced, his feelings for you had been realized like never before. He had of course liked you before he got One for All and accepted into UA with you, he just never thought you would like him back. 

Back when he was quirkless, he had the biggest crush on you, thinking you were the most beautiful, sweetest, and most amazing person he had ever met. But, his insecurities got the best of him, and  believing you could do better than a quirkless nobody like him, he kept quiet about his feelings.

When he met Uraraka, he thought he was finally saved- a girl that finally could make him stop thinking of you. She was pretty, kind, and selfless like you, and it felt nice to have someone around that didn't know he used to be quirkless and defenseless. She was able to be a buffer for him and his feelings towards you.

Until the Dance rolled around and his feelings hit full force. It hurt watching his friends ask you out, anger bubbling up inside him. 

He should be the one tripping up on his words as he gave you a full bouquet of roses, not Kaminari, or Sero!

It hurt when you kidded that you wouldn't find a date, because he knew he could give you one, he was just too scared to.

Dress shopping with you was the worst of all. The whole time he felt like a blubbering idiot because you looked so freaking beautiful. You looked like a goddess in all that shimmering fabric, the blue dresses bringing out your eyes, the red dresses making him feel antsy to grab your waist and twirl you around, the greens his absolute favorite- but he couldn't say anything like what he truly felt.

He felt like a peasant in the presence of a princess as you laughed and twirled around, shining like a star.

“Do you like this one?” you had asked in a shimmering green dress, the sleeves short and flowy, the color of sea foam.

“Like it-I-I-I love it! You look beautiful! That one’s the best- no doubt about it!” Izuku praised, unable to take his eyes off your body, his face red.

You sighed happily, not noticing his face a blushing mess. “Thanks Midoriya...god what would I do without you?” you had then reached for his hand gingerly, giving him a hug. 

You then pulled away too soon, his face on fire. “Im going to get this one since you like it so much!”

The song on the speakers changed, a song you both recognized. You gave him a mischievous smirk, grabbing his hand and laughing.

“Come dance with me!” You exclaimed, making his hands clammy and his face red, in the best way possible.

His heart pumping hard, he realized- you were the one. The one he wanted.

And couldn’t have.

Now he was looking down at this sweatband, regretting not just telling you in that store, or these past few weeks, or even in that empty classroom- that he liked you, liked you more than a friend, more than a best friend,even- and that he wanted to go to the dance with you.

He sighed, letting his own reality sink in.

“Even if I did tell her,” he thought, “she wouldn't have time to react. We have been friends for so long I would have blind sided her with that confession- it's better for me to keep it to myself. I can't lose our friendship.”

He sighed, sadness flooding his system as he looked down at his shoes, defeated.

“Youre going to go with Uraraka,” he commanded himself, “you like her.”

A few weeks ago this would have been true- of course now, it really wasn't.

“Izuku!” he heard his name yelled by you, looking up abruptly to see you running up to him, a smile on your face.

He squeaked, tensing up as he didn't expect you at all as he was wallowing in self pity.

“Hey, sorry Im kinda late,” you chuckled, looking at him with rosy cheeks.

He couldn't stop staring at your lips that parted ever so slightly from your jog over to him, making his face 10x redder than it already was.

“I-I-Its okay!” he said, looking up as he scratched the back of his neck, embarrassment written all over his face.

You shook your head, smiling, not suspecting a thing- Midoriya was always being an adorable, blushing mess- what was new about that?

“Alright….” you started to ask, “Do you have something of Uraraka that I can use?”

Midoriya was still blushing, trying to fight the rising heat on his face. 

“I do!” he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wristband, thrusting it at you quickly.

You smiled mischievously as you giggled, gingerly grabbing it from him.

“Did you by chance steal this from her?” You smirked.

“I-uh-maybe?”

You laughed, knowing Izuku must feel so guilty about taking such a small thing. He was considerate like that.

His cheeks got warm again, your laugh making him feel warm inside- it was the happiest sound he ever heard- 

“almost like Christmas bells”, he thought instantly.

“You couldve just taken a piece of hair from her, or a napkin, or even just something she touched-my quirk will still work,” you said happily as you slipped on the wristband, the feeling of the DNA triggering your nerves, making them feel like they were being sparked with electricity.

You shook ever so slightly, letting the power surge emb its way down.

“Oh-oh-uh okay!”

Midoriya stared at you, not feeling he was ready to do this. He didnt want to do this- but he was fighting himself to do what he thought was the right thing, not to do what he really wanted to do.

“You ready?” you asked cheerfully, your smile feeling strained.  You didnt want to do this either.

You didnt want to help him get with another girl, but he was your best friend- how could you say no to him? 

All you wanted to do was sit and cry, or even just scream-A strange and annoying side effect of your quirk was it made you extra emotional, so It was taking everything in you to not just give an excuse to leave, or yell, or even cry.

“I-I-guess…”he fumbled out, wringing his hands nervously.

You gave him a curt nod, and whispered the one word that activated your quirk, “Change.”

 Your body instantly lit up with an eerie blue glow, starting at the feet and wrapping around until it reached your head.  

The whole time Izuku was in his head, thinking himself into a mess. “SHould I just tell her?” “Will she think Im weird- considering we've been friends for so long she might be able to overlook the fact that I like her ...Her smile seemed so strange, as if she was forcing it: maybe she does have some feelings for me...or it could be from her quirk that makes her muscles feel sore or something, maybe its-”

“Uraraka!” he cried in panic, his voice going up 10 octaves as one of his good friends stood waving at him cheerfully.

“Hi Deku!” you smiled, laughing at the sound of her sweet, high voice coming out of your mouth. You were wearing her PE uniform, the top opened to show a black tank top.

“This is so wierd!” you cried in amusement.

“It is…”he chuckled along with you, his blush rising. He felt a little nervous around Uraraka, but this version of her was making him more awkward because it was you. He couldn't explain it, but it almost felt like he couldn't really wrap his head that he was asking out Uraraka, but it was really you and he was asking you instead.

5 MINUTES

“Alright,” you said quickly, “remember when we were 7, and you were asking me to become All Might, and I said I couldnt because I didnt have anything he touched, and that even if I did, I could only last for 5 minutes and then I had to switch back?”

“Yes, i do… I was so excited to meet my idol I started to cry...not really my finest moment!” He chuckled nervously.

“Well…” you sighed, your voice feeling strange because of Uraraka’s pitch, “that rule still applies. I can only last for about 5 minutes before I have to build up my strength again- so we have to be quick.”

“Oh, alright,” he agreed quickly, standing up straight. “Lets do it.”

4 MINUTES

You took a deep breath, willing down the emotions inside you. You had to keep it together- 5 minutes was all, and then you could leave and try to forget about all the hurt inside you.

Izuku took a deep breath as well. Now that you were taking the lead, he felt like he should just play along- if you were okay with all this, if you seemed to be happy with this- he would be too. 

“Hi Izuku! How are you?” You acted cheerfully, over doing your wave like Uraraka would.

“H-hi Uraraka!” He smiled, a chuckle almost slipping out as you acted exactly like her.

“So…” you began, your muscles hurting from straining a smile for so long, “you wanted to tell me something?”

You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time-you felt so stupid pretending to be someone else, especially to help your crush get with someone else, but this was your friend, and you would do anything for him. But, you still felt a low budget actor trying out for an audition and you couldn’t help but want to laugh from your embarrassment.

3 MINUTES

“What was it?” You asked pretending to be perplexed as you watched Midoriya’s face get redder with each word you uttered. 

You walked closer to him, your heart beating faster. You didn’t know why, but this was starting to feel real. Too real- and you were hating that you were giving into it

“Um-I-I-” Midoriya stuttered, his brain in overdrive. He was still fighting himself inside, still fighting to just ask you. 

“God damn it Izuku just ask her!” he cursed at himself mentally, watching those big round eyes star at him. Your eyes were the same- he always noticed that when you used your quirk: your eyes always stayed the same color.

2 MINUTES

“Is something wrong, Izuku?” you tilted your head to the side impatiently, putting your hands behind your back like Ochaco would.

Izuku looked at his feet, his silence ringing in your ears. You couldn't understand what he was doing- he wanted to do this, right? So why was he acted so wierd? WHy couldn't he just get this over with? You're emotions were getting more and more uncontrollable- you could feel the tears tickling your waterline as you stared at your best friend, the sky beginning to turn fiery orange to pale pink. It was getting harder to control your quirk- the time was trickling away, and you didnt think you would have enough energy to use your quirk again in your state.

1 MINUTE

“Izuku, we have to hurry, Im losing control over my quirk,” you grunted out, feeling your voice ebb away from Uraraka and slightly into your own. 

Izuku snapped his head up in a panic, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uh-uh-okay!” he complied, searching in himself to try and find that piece of him that trully felt some romantic way for Uraraka.

It wasnt there.

All he could see was your face- you when you were 11, helping him up after Bakugo had shoved him into the ground, you hugging him when you both realize you got into UA, you getting your hero suit, you and him dress shopping- it was you. And only you.

He took a deep breath, realizing what he finally, truly wanted to do. No matter the consequences.

30 SECONDS

“I know this is strange, and out of the blew….but- I wanted to say I like you. A lot. And I know you probably dont feel the same way, but I needed to tell you that- I-I care about you, and Id do anything to make you happy and feel safe. Ive liked you-more than friend- for a long time now, and was hoping that maybe-maybe you could go to the school dance with me?”

Izuku took a deep breath feeling a wait off his shoulders. He was scared as hell, that was still in him but it felt could to let out all those emotions he had been holding in for so long.

“Y/n! A-are you alright?!?”

You had turned back into your own self, but now you had tears stains littering your cheeks, more trailing down as your heart began to break. You didn’t realize that that confessions was meant for you: you thought it was for Uraraka.

Izuku rushed over to you, not knowing really what to do. He could tell you were really hurting inside, that something was almost painful to you. He didn’t think his confession would make you this upset-but why?

You sniffled, your shoulders shaking as you felt foolish for crying in front of him. This wasn’t you-you we’re usually the calm one, the one who took blows to your ego with ease and grace. But right now, you were tired from overusing your quirk and tired of lying to your friend each and every day you saw him.

“I’m not okay Izuku!” You shouted, frustrated. Midoriya’s eyes got wide, shocked by your outburst.

“I’m not! I-I-I know you like Ochaco, and if that’s what makes you happy, I don’t want to take that away from you-but I cant keep lying to you!” You took a breath, a protest about to escape out of Izuku’s lips.

“I like you Izuku-I-I loved you. Every since we were kids.” You heaved out, as if your lungs couldn’t catch up with your fast beating heart.

Izuku felt his whole life turn 180 in a split second. You liked him back??? You felt the same way??? He stared at you, your eyes sparkling from the tears. You were hugging yourself, making him just want to run and cuddle you and make you feel better.

A shocked silence fell between you two.

“Y/n,” Midoriya asked so quietly it was like a whisper, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to lose you! I didn’t-I didn’t- want to mess up things between us!” You were stuttering over your words, and you felt like an emotional mess. You took a shaky breath, feeling embarrassment bubble in your stomach.

“But I now just clearly already did, so I’m just-“ you put your back to Midoriya, meaning to walk away until you felt a soft hand gently grasp your wrist.

Your turned quickly in shock, your tear stained face staring at Izuku’s.

“I love you y/n,” he said with gentle force, his voice calm but his cheeks a blazing red, revealing his nervousness. 

You stared at him with wide eyes, confusion written on your face.

“But I thought-you were saying that to Uraraka...“ you sniffled, “we were practicing…”

“I meant it for you. I-I thought I wanted to ask Uraraka, but I realized I wanted to ask you.” Izuku smiled softly, making your insides erupt with happy butterflies.

You grinned back, almost wanting to laugh at how unbelievably relieved you were-you felt like you could float.

“So-uh-um y/n,” Izuku asked, his smile turning into a nervous grin, “would you want to go to the dance with me?”

You laughed, pulling Izuku close to you and giving him a hug, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. He stood there in complete shock, not knowing what to do-his senses we’re going to overload. He finally wrapped his arms tenderly around your body.

You sighed happily, feeling completely giddy and happy.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-----------------------------

I hope you having a great day or night wherever you are at!

Requests open!!!!!

[excorcismic]

      ❛ remember the time . . . in SAN FRANCISCO ? with me by your side , in SAN FRANCISCO ? you are such a  s i g h t  , the deepest brown eyes , my dear . . . ❜

                                                                      ❛ MISA MISA !! ❜                                            playlist . plotting call . listen as you read !

the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of HIRAI MOMO  -  but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of VALENTINE’S DAY , 2011 strikes you.  perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself  -  you’re MISA AMANE ! ,  a TWENTY-FOUR YEAR OLD STREAMER / MUSICIAN whose virtue lies in your + LOYALTY & + OPTIMISM , although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - NAÏVE & - IMPULSIVE ,  and you’re associated with BLACK PAINTED NAILS HOLDING A FOUNTAIN PEN , RUBY RED LIPS & EYES THAT MATCH , GIVING HIM YOUR EVERYTHING IN EXCHANGE FOR JUST HIS HEART by those around you.  suddenly,  however,  you’ve found LIGHT’S WHITE JACKET on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse,  memories from your life in DEATH NOTE have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you.  you can almost hear SAN FRANCISCO by THE DRIVER ERA following in your wake. ( she/her & demigirl )

                       this is the story of a very lonely girl .

I . WELL , LOOK AT YOUR WATCH NOW !

born in alucard , pennsylvania - misa amane was the child of celebrity parents who settled down in the small town . as of course , a TEMPORARY break . a director father and a failed actress mother , they were determined their daughter continue the legacy and turn into a star . and after a few good , normal years ( if ‘normal’ involved going to school & playing during the day then coming home to intense acting , singing , dancing practice ) , she managed to get wrapped into the world of stardom . 

first , it was through commercials . then , small parts in movies that called for cute little girls . then . . . a deal with a children’s network at age nine to star in a series about a child detective . affectionately called , THE MYSTERIES OF MISS MISA-MISA !

from nine to sixteen , she’d work tirelessly - becoming an instant hit the moment the pilot episode aired , selling merchandise all over the country and making appearances on other television shows . 

but then there’s the inevitable - kids start to grow up . the childish charm is lost & the children start to realize they were deprived of so much for the sake of fame . such things , like friends . and misa . . . although initially asked for a sequel series that would tackle the child detective now as a high schooler , declined in favor of going back home to pursue her high school years as a normal teen . of course - to the chagrin of her parents . she’d go back home to live with an aunt in alucard for a year , finishing her sophomore year , then her parents would follow - she’d move back in again at the start of her junior . and . . . it was not at all easy . considering a , she already had a reputation as a child star - which was equivalent to a target along her back . and b , the lack of friends was obvious - and even when she smiled at everyone , complimented their styles , helped them out with work she could assist with . . . most of the time , she’d sit by herself at the lunch table . or , with people that she didn’t know if they were actual friends or not . 

graduation comes , and misa amane stands to accept her diploma . there isn’t a graduation party ; she just sits in the back of her parents’ car , ready to go out to a fancy dinner she isn’t looking forward to .

II . YOU’RE STILL A SUPER HOT FEMALE !

BUT ALL HOPE IS NOT LOST ! graduation is the end of a chapter - and the beginning of the next rests in amane’s hands . three months pass , and once again the family puts pressure on her to go back into showbiz . it isn’t too late , you’re young & pretty - you’re meant for movies . but . . . misa , of course , refuses . she actually is looking into maybe making another name for herself . . . but in a very different way than her parents would hope .

it’s an argument . an argument about how misa has talent she’s ignoring & an argument about how her parents can’t control her forever . one friend she has sits in her truck in the parking lot as misa packs her bags , and the heated argument ends with the blonde girl slamming the door and her parents telling her to come back only when she has her head screwed on straight . but it’s fine . misa’s alright with this - she’s going to be a star in her own right , since a band she’s started playing in underground has just gotten noticed . YOUR FRIENDS & THE SKELETONS - a hard pop-punk band influenced by the likes of my chemical romance , paramore , two door cinema club , the 1975 , what have you . 

alucard is left behind when the recognition comes since misa amane needs the change of scenery . but that doesn’t mean she is gone forever , as sometimes the pursuit of other things only lasts for so long . 

III . YOU’VE GOT YOUR MILLION DOLLAR CONTRACT !

the next few years are kind . the band experiences a nice success that means misa gets to live her dream - but she realizes the burnout when she looks back on everything she’s accomplished . the constant moving around , always only talking to the same few people or never anyone she gets to know - it registers that she’s still in some sort of box . and maybe a break from said box is needed .

your friends & the skeletons goes on a touring hiatus , retiring back to alucard . misa does not tell her family she’s going back - she doesn’t give a shit , and she doesn’t think they do , either . she gets an apartment by herself , and starts frequently streaming to still connect with her fans even though she’s taken a step back out of the spotlight . 

alucard is quiet . and alucard is home . but there’s a lot that misa again has to face .

she has a history here , yes - but nevertheless , there is still that feeling of loneliness . in every aspect - she never had many friends . little of her relationships lasted long , always ending with unrequited love , quick heartbreak , what have you . only her bandmembers did she have , even though she tried to throw herself at every friendly face she saw .

because she’s always been friendly . always a friend to everyone else , even if they aren’t a friend to her . only hoping maybe SOMEONE ELSE can see her as someone - begging to be somebody’s top-pick , somebody’s vip , somebody to someone . because her whole life she’s lived as only the bridesmaid , but never the bride in the eyes of those looking away from stardom . because it’s one thing to be adored by fans - it’s another to be adored by individual people .

IV . AND THEY’RE ALL WAITING FOR YOUR HOT TRACK !

nevertheless , amane is never one to give up quickly . because she believes that someday , maybe she’ll get what she wants . . . even though of course , when things go south , she still quickly accepts maybe she isn’t meant to be somebody’s someone . 

but she always smiles .

misa amane is one of a kind . she’s got so much love in her heart to share - she’s sensitive , maybe she gets hurt easily . maybe she’s IMPULSIVE and naive to where she bites off more than she can chew and believes things she shouldn’t . she jumps into things without realizing how much she could get hurt . talks without thinking . but she is friendly - she’s kind , outgoing , and cherishes those she admires even if they don’t cherish her back . her heart is forever on her sleeve , and all she wants to be loved . she’s been lonely for a long time .

she’s talented ! not only fronting her band with vocals & rhythm guitar , but also taking interests in visual art , crafting . aside from streaming , she runs a little etsy shop where she makes jewelry and keychains of her own little style . she of course can act , but hates it at this point . she also knows how to play the piano & the drums !!

she regularly streams for her fans - whether it’s to watch movies or shows with them or to play video games she has with them . she’s social , in that she always loves to talk to someone . her batteries recharge through social interaction , as an extrovert’s extrovert .

i wouldn’t say misa is stupid . she’s clever - witty . but sometimes she’s a little ditzy and acts without thinking ; i like to thing she did pretty well in school in terms of her grades , but her tendencies to both act and speak without thinking and sometimes forgetting simple things can give the impression she isn’t too smart . but she is ; just in her own special ways . she’s not dumb at all .

she also knows no fear - courageous to some points where it’s even dangerous . she regularly likes to go on adventures in the dark to investigate possible haunted areas , always is the one to kill the bugs when everyone else is scared , heights and the dark are never an issue . she also lives and breathes for the occult , heavily believing in everything supernatural . she even practices witchcraft ! 

also she's hardcore pan if u think misa is straight U Are Mistaken

it is almost a certain guarantee that misa amane is perhaps one of the friendliest faces in alucard . the one that only hopes you like her as much as she likes you . and maybe one day she’ll find that - until then , she will never stop persisting . she goes everywhere and she smiles at everyone ; a shimmer of sunshine in black platforms & cross earrings .

WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING FOR ?? . . .

                    . . .  holding on , i’m holding on to our story . . .

there is a girl . a very lonely girl . a very lonely girl that looks back at misa when she stares into the house of mirrors . and that lonely girl is a thought that misa can’t get out of her head , along with the newfound feeling that there is something - no , someone missing from her life that should be there . or was there . a missing piece that she doesn’t recognize . and the white jacket , a bit too big for her to fit , that appears on her person - the attachment she feels to it gives her security , like a safety blanket ; even though she has no clue where it came from , or who it actually belonged to . . . 

god i fried my own brain writing this but anyway HELLO EVERYONE once again i am hylia and . . . i have finally finished . my monster of an intro for misa . once again if u want to look at my plot/connection ideas pls click the plotting call link at the top of this post !! i love this girl to death and i hope u guys like her too c: bc she is my BABIE and i ,,, am so stoked to write her here . I’LL SEE Y’ALL WHEN I GET OFF WORK !! <3 

[malethirsty]

A Hard Day’s Night: Ethan Chandler

Summary: After working on both finding Mina & managing your telepathic ability, you accompany Ethan to the Grand Guignol, which causes a flood of things to be revealed.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap)

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/malethirst/status/1196862910745571328?s=21

Working with Malcolm Murray was an experience of a lifetime, but was not without problems. Ever since he & Vanessa Ives recruited your telepathic abilities to help locate Malcolm’s missing daughter Mina, you’d been working non stop. You’d had moments alone with Sembene during break, but he was more of a silent soldier, you needed someone to talk to. You could have talked with Mr. Lyle, but despite you both being closeted, you couldn’t bring yourself to, mainly cause you thought he might sell you out.

So you whiled away, all until one fateful day. The day Ethan Chandler walked into your circle, you were smitten by the American however couldn’t fully read him, it was the same with Vanessa, and you couldn’t work out why. However it wasn’t as important as striking a connection up with him. Ethan responded well, the two of you discussing things like the Demimonde, American history & his potential settling. Over time, you fell in love, but pushed the thoughts away, he was rough and tough, and would probably turn you away, you didn’t want the relationship to end. It couldn’t mean that you could avoid looking at the beautiful rugged man, his amazing long hair, his drawl, how amazing he probably looked naked.

“Y/N, are you hearing me?” Ethan clicked his fingers in front of your face, breaking your thought “Wha?” You muttered confused, Ethan grinning “I asked you if you wanted to come to the Grand Guignol tonight, Miss Ives is already going & I think she could use the company.” “So like you’d escort me like one would a lady?” The words escaped your mouth before you could stop yourself, your inward curse stopped by Ethan responding “Yeah, like that.” You breathed heavily “I guess so, 8PM sharp the production begins right?” “Yes, make sure you look your best Y/N, I’m gonna take my best man for a night on the town.” “I’ll make sure of it Ethan.” Ethan grinned at you as he walked away, you moving up the stairs, ready to pick out an outfit to wear.

As 7PM rolled around, you told Malcolm you would be out but would keep an eye out for Mina. He nodded his head in agreement, more concerned about his acquisition Victor Frankenstein, than anything else around him. You met both Ethan & Vanessa outside “Well Mr. Y/N, you look nice this evening” “Thank you Vanessa, I can say the same of you.” She smiled, which was always important to get from her as what you were able to see from her thoughts, she hadn’t lived a pleasant life, so any chance to make her smile, you’d take. “How’s the anchoring going? And how are you going to adapt it to find Mina?” Vanessa’s questions were important as going into the hustling & bustling public with telepathic abilities was like walking through a busy road packed full of noise, recently you’d learnt anchoring from her & had been locking it onto Ethan so things would be more bearable, but now you’d have to let it down a bit. “I’m sure it will go fine, it did the other night. I know Malcolm used you for most of the work, but I was able to keep it controlled when I had to attempt to seek Mina out.” “Good work Y/N, but we really must head out or they won’t let us in.” At Ethan’s prompt, you all set out to the Grand Guiginol.

The production ‘The Transformed Beast’ was quite a spectacle, thrilling the audience but you knowing of the horrors of the supernatural were not as horrified as the other viewers. You took the opportunity in less important parts to gaze at Ethan, seeing his reaction to what was unfolding on stage. Then the main actor said it, the words that would change everything “There cannot be a happy end, for claw will slash and tooth will rend!” At this your anchoring slipped. Flashes occurred, so quick you couldn’t focus back on Ethan. You saw the lead actor, leading some sort of creature backstage, you saw vampires nestled in the rafters, you saw Mina on a beach with Vanessa, Mina being bitten by some out of focus figure, then you saw people being mauled by a different figure, one that looked wolfish. Claw slashed, tooth rended & finally you saw the creature rest in the dock, time elapse as it morphed into Ethan as he awoke & started right at you, with eyes filled with pain and heartache.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Ethan was shaking you and you pulled yourself out of it “What Ethan?” You said, trying to not act like you’d seen something connected to him kill a lot of people. “It’s Intermission, you want to go out and ask Vanessa what she thought?” “Uhm, I, um” you said, trying to find your bearings, however as a dark look fell over Ethan, you knew he knew what you’d seen “You know don’t you?” He said softly, you nodded. Ethan got up & made his way quickly towards the exit “Ethan don’t!” You called out but he had gone “Ah shit” you murmured under your breath as you tore out to find him.

He was right outside the theater, which made your pursuit seem over dramatic to say the least “Ethan?” you cautioned, not knowing what would happen “Have you ever wanted to be someone else?” This was not the American you knew, this was a man who’d been through so much, close to shattering, it broke your heart to see Ethan so sad. You walked up to him & put a hand on his shoulder “I used to, but I grew used to what I had.” “And you think this is some type of gift?” Ethan asked, his voice raising “Well I don’t fucking know, I don’t even know what it is!” You responded back harshly. Ethan drew deep breaths, attempting to calm down “Mariner’s Inn, that’s where I’m staying. Let’s head back there so I can explain.” Ethan started to walk, you following behind him.

You eventually crossed the threshold and made you way to his room. Locking the door behind you, you turned to face Ethan. “So what is happening with you?” Ethan sighed “Y/N, I’m a werewolf. I turn every full moon into a ravenous creature destined to feed on flesh & blood, not caring who it is, as long as it’s carnal need for flesh and blood is fed” you nodded your head “Alright” you responded, Ethan looked surprised “Alright? Y/N, all those people” “Should not have been slain yes, but I can assume this was something you were cursed with, correct?” “Yes it was, I don’t remember seeking it out.” “So the issue should be with the one who cursed you, not yourself. Ethan, every single person at Malcolm’s house has had to step in blood, you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. You’ve been here for me, so now I return the favor and be there for you.” “How could you be? I could rip you apart, it’s practically suicide! Why would you stand by my side through all of this suffering and pain?” “Because I love you Ethan Chandler!” The words had fallen out again, but this time you were beyond caring “I was pulled in the second I saw you at the show with that makeshift mustache, when I saw how that girl at the show had been fucked by you, I wished I could have been in her place, but as I got to know you more I started to love your personality, your kindness with Ms. Ives and myself, how you made me comfortable with my telepathy. So that’s why Ethan. Even if you can’t stand me, I cannot bare to see the one I care about distraught and upset, taking his anger out on himself for another’s curse!” You stopped, catching breath. Ethan looked shocked at all you had said.

You took the cue from Ethan’s face “I should go” “No” you turned back to see Ethan making his way toward you “I didn’t mean to take it out on you, I can see you really care despite everything, probably the only person who ever could. You really mean it?” You started up at Ethan “Every word” Ethan kissed you very deep to where a few moments passed before you split apart. You were in shock, however you were both incapable of speaking, everything already being left on the floor. Soon both of your clothes covered said floor as you fell onto Ethan’s bed, “Ride me” Ethan whisper groaned, and you obeyed. Positioning yourself above him, you lowered yourself down onto his cock, moaning out for him. Once sheathed inside your ass, you leant in for another kiss as he began to thrust forwards, him leading you in rhythm and pace, the air filling with moans from the two of you “Oh fuck Y/N, you look so beautiful. You don’t deserve to be fucked like the girl from the show, you deserve to be made love to.” Your eyes filled with tears, though more of love and some kind of happiness that you couldn’t name, Ethan looking at you understood, like he had a telepathic link & leaned up to kiss them away.

You stayed like this for a while, loving how good Ethan was fucking you. He suddenly slammed you down, taking charge of the pace, you continued to moan “Ethan keep going, I love this so much!” He grinned, picking his pace up “You’re taking me so good baby boy, clench down right there. Fuck yes” he began to grab the railing as he neared the end, you also getting close “Y/N, I’m going to cum soon, do you want me to pull out & shoot?” At this you moaned out, shooting your own load as you leaned up to kiss him “N-No, shoot in me Ethan, you’re a damn marksman, make it count.” He laughed “God Y/N, you really are something amazing. Here it comes, FUCK YES!” Ethan groaned out as he shot his load into your ass. He kissed you again, you wrapping your hands around him. Ethan for everything good & bad, was where you were most calm, and here was where you wanted to stay.

[jakeh0wl]

Star Wars Short Fiction - Week IV - A New Hope

“…We will then crush the Rebellion with one swift stroke.”

The Imperial officers gathered at the table nodded their agreement, murmuring declarations of concurrence. Even the arrogant Admiral Motti, seated to Tarkin’s right and still recovering from Vader’s choking display of power, dipped his head towards the Grand Moff.

Tarkin stood, eyeing the officers. “You may leave us,” he said, sweeping his hand towards the seated men. “I would speak with Lord Vader alone.”

The officers rose from their seats, each giving Tarkin respectful half-bows before filing from the room, several of them shuffling nervously beneath Vader’s black, eyeless gaze. Once he and Vader were alone, Tarkin waved to the Death Star Troopers flanking the entrance to the conference room, who sealed closed the doors.

Tarkin straightened, hands clasped behind his back, then turned to Lord Vader. As always, the six-foot, black-clad cyborg regarded Tarkin with that unreadable jet mask of a face, the eyes shimmering a dark red when the light caught them. The identity of who hid behind that visage was something Tarkin had guessed at, and was now fairly certain of.

Still, the regard of the Emperor’s Force-wielding pet remained unsettling, even after all these years. “You have still had no luck with the princess, Lord Vader,” Tarkin said. It was a statement, not a question.

“No,” Vader replied in a deep, dread-inducing voice. As always, Vader said little when he could help it, preferring to unbalance those he was addressing with the mere power of his presence.

Tarkin, however, was not so easily shaken. Whilst Vader still left Tarkin with a sense of unease, the Grand Moff had built an impressive immunity to Vader’s influence. This, coupled with Tarkin’s favour with the Emperor, guaranteed a certain level of mutuality between them. “Despite your assurances that we will soon have the Death Star plans returned to us,” Tarkin continued, “I remain uncertain of the probable success of your interrogation methods.”

“The princess has a fierce will,” Vader replied. “She bears an unexpected degree of resilience.”

“She’s the daughter of a politician,” Tarkin said, pacing across the reflective black floor of the conference room. “Such things are understandable from one of her upbringing.”

“We will retrieve those plans,” Vader said, watching Tarkin from across the room.

“Can you be sure, Vader?” Tarkin said, meeting the man’s – the machine’s – masked gaze.

Vader didn’t respond.

“I thought not,” He shook his head, running a hand through his thinning hair. A thought occurred to him then. “Whilst I cannot say I approve of you choking my officers, Lord Vader, and despite my lack of knowledge in the details of your powers, there is no denying that you are in possession of certain unique… assets. Assets that, concerning our present situation, could prove very useful indeed.”

“Dispense with the ambiguity, Governor,” Vader demanded. “You would have me refer to methods of interrogation utilising the Force?”

Tarkin raised an eyebrow. Something in Vader’s tone suggested he had already considered – or perhaps even tried – using the Force to manipulate the princess. “Could such a thing be done?”

“The Force is not a torture machine, Governor,” Vader growled. “To perceive it as such is to lay bare a gross ignorance of its nature.”

Tarkin mentally scoffed. It seemed that the Emperor’s most feared and deadliest servant was not above the occasional thinly veiled insult. There was something about that revelation that Tarkin found surprisingly amusing. “Very well,” Tarkin replied. “I have outlined a proposal of how to deal with this rebel problem of ours which I intend to present to the Emperor momentarily. He is awaiting my transmission. Would you care to join me, Lord Vader? I believe this proposal will be of interest to you as much as it will be to the Emperor.”

Vader said nothing, simply gazing across the circular table at Tarkin with those eyeless, black visors. Then he nodded, striding across the room to stand at Tarkin’s side, cape rippling slightly as he moved. Despite their occasional differences, Tarkin’s respect for Vader was rivalled by no other. Everything that Vader was emulated power and authority, and there were oft times when Tarkin found himself envious of the pure fear Vader struck into those beneath him.

Tarkin leaned forward, sliding back the black panel of the activation key for the holographic projector. Pressing the key, Tarkin took a step back as a great, shimmering projection of Emperor Sheev Palpatine, supreme ruler of the Galactic Empire, took shape above the table.

Tarkin gave a sweeping bow. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he said.

Vader went one further, falling to a knee. “My Master.”

Not the first time, Vader’s unwavering loyalty and devotion to the Emperor reminded Tarkin of a muzzled akk hound. The most ferocious akk hound in the Galaxy, one who made entire systems tremble when the Emperor saw fit to let him off the leash.

The Emperor’s holographic eyes, shadowed beneath his ever-present hood, shifted between the forms of Tarkin and Vader. “Governor Tarkin, Lord Vader,” the Emperor addressed them. “You hinted at a proposal you had for me, Governor?”

“I did, my lord,” Tarkin replied, straightening in the Emperor’s presence. “It would appear that we are faced with a dilemma of a rather urgent nature. Despite Lord Vader’s best efforts, the troublesome Princess Leia has yet to inform us of either the location of the rebel’s hidden base or where the data tapes containing the plans for this space station are. Now, considering recent development concerning the Imperial Senate and the state of the Imperial Systems, I believe, my Lord, the time has come for more aggressive negotiations.”

“Speak on, Governor Tarkin,” the Emperor drawled.

Tarkin glanced at Vader, the black-clad cyborg expressionless as ever. “There exists a way to ensure the princess’s cooperation. Namely, her revelation of the rebel’s hidden base. We have yet to exercise the full destructive potential of this space station, and now we have been presented with the perfect opportunity, my Lord.” Tarkin reached down, activating a second hologram above the table. The form of the Emperor slid back to give way for the blue-green projection of a planet that now hovered before them, between Tarkin and the Emperor. “Alderaan, my Lord. The Princess’s home planet. It is a world of beauty and peace. The Alderaanians bear no love of weapons and claim passiveness. However, our intel holds that this traitorous planet was a core breeding ground for the Rebellion, offering the rebels both a hidden base of operations and support in the Imperial Senate. Now that the Imperial Senate is no longer an obstacle, I propose we test the true power of this space station’s superlaser. Jedha and Scarif were but… inklings of the Death Star’s capabilities, my Lord. Alderaan will provide the perfect test target to experience the obliteration that this station is prepared to unleash on the Galaxy. With Alderaan held as an example, no System would dare oppose you, my Lord, nor give the rebels any further support.”

The Emperor studied the holographic projection of Alderaan. “Wisely spoken, my friend,” the Emperor said. “I approve. As does, I sense, Lord Vader. However, what is to become of the princess and the rebels?”

Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back. “Herein lies the final stroke, my Lord. We will suspend the destruction of Alderaan before Princess Leia as a threat. With the Senate’s recent dissolution, the princess’s father, Bail Organa, will soon be returning to Alderaan. I believe it wise for us to wait until we have confirmation of his return before we initiate the test of the Death Star. Then, faced with not only the annihilation of her home planet, but the loss of her family, I believe the princess will be quite willing to give up her rebel friends. Alderaan will still be destroyed, of course. Then, once we have the location of the rebel base and Alderaan is but dust between the stars, the princess will be deposed of most adequately.”

“Excellent, Tarkin, excellent,” the Emperor said, cackling. “Have the princess brought to me on Coruscant once Alderaan and the rebels have been destroyed. We will make her execution most public.” The Emperor’s holographic shadow shifted towards Vader. “Lord Vader, I believe you may be of some use in that respect. I would have you execute the princess personally.”

Vader bowed. “As you wish, my Master.”

The Emperor turned back to Tarkin. “You’ve done well, Governor. I am most pleased.”

Tarkin felt a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I will have an order for the princess’s execution written up, my Lord.”

“Good. I will await news of Alderaan’s… eradication.” The Emperor’s figure blurred, then faded, the projection fuzzing out.

Tarkin subsequently disabled the hologram of Alderaan.

“You have garnered the Emperor’s approval,” Vader said.

“As I have yours, apparently,” Tarkin replied, turning to face him.

Vader pointedly ignored the statement. “Despite the advantageous effects its destruction offers, Alderaan will certainly be a loss to the Galaxy.”

Tarkin nodded. “A necessary one, however.”

Vader made for the doors of the conference room. “Perhaps if events in the last weeks had transpired differently, it would not be so.”

Tarkin sensed the implication. “It was not I who lost the data tapes to the rebels above Scarif, my friend,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “From your troopers’ reports, you practically had the plans within your grasp. Had you not been distracted by certain… unnecessary thrills, those plans would now be in our hands.”

Vader turned back to face him. “The rebels were far more prepared for our pursuit than anticipated,” he replied. “And perhaps if you had turned the Death Star’s weapon on the rebel fleet instead of firing on the planet, their escape would have been impossible.”

Tarkin smirked. “You saw what the Death Star did to Scarif,” he said. “There was no guarantee our own forces would not be decimated in the process. Including your own.”

Vader took a step forward, towering over Tarkin and raising one gloved hand towards him. “Galen Urso’s daughter was on Scarif, Governor, as was Director Krennic. Your frequent bouts of rivalry with the Director were well documented. So do not speak of unnecessary thrills to me, Tarkin.”

Tarkin swallowed, holding his composure. Likely only his imagination, but it had seemed for a moment that the softest touch of pressure had brushed his throat. He stepped back, carefully forcing an amiable smile across his lips. “Perhaps, my friend, it is best if we simply agree that the loss of the plans at Scarif was an unfortunate misstep on both our counts,” he said.

Vader studied him for several quiet seconds, then straightened. “Indeed,” he said eventually.

Tarkin moved made for the exit, the doors to the hallway beyond hissing open at his touch to the entrance panel. Vader strode past him, the Death Star Troopers standing outside the conference room wincing slightly at his shadow.

“I will set our coordinates for Alderaan. If you would be so kind as to retrieve the princess, Lord Vader,” Tarkin said, “I will have her execution order procured.”

Vader gave the slightest, towering nod, then turned away.

Tarkin watched, eyes narrowed to slits, as Vader walked down the hallway, black cape billowing with his stride. Tarkin would need to tread careful on this ice, fearsome things waited beneath.

Turning away from the conference room, Tarkin made for the command bridge.

[arigatouiris]

i feel you // markus

Author’s Note: My first Detroit Become Human request! I loved this game so so much and godd. This is precisely what I have been waiting for all my life. I know you said you love angst, so here it is. Hope you like it, anon! And thank you so much for your kind words!! Word count: 2588

Pairing: Markus x Sick! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of dying

It was only recently did he start feeling things. And in such a short span of time, Markus had managed to lead a civil war, free the androids from the tyranny of the humans, and even give them equal rights and recognition to be another intelligent species in the world. Everyone was either slowly accepting androids as living beings, or they were sucking it up because there was nothing they could do.

Markus resigned back into leading a quieter life among the android community. He stayed back in Detroit, wanting to fix things that they had gotten wrong. He was now one of the founding members of Jericho��an organization renewed, in pursuit of androids who want a home.

However, he couldn’t forget some parts of his past that helped shape him into who he now was. Markus remembered Carl’s words to him, about how he needed to try and find who he really was inside him. And the painting that Carl had made him do was flashing in his mind on most days. Markus understood this feeling as ‘existential’, a feeling human beings would often feel when they had finally accomplished something they strove for, and had nowhere else to go.

North had left Jericho, not because she had nothing to do with them any longer. Ever since knowing her, Markus had understood that she was individualistic. More than the other androids, and it was a fact about her that drove him to her. He loved her, and he knew she did as well, but as some of the cases go, loving someone didn’t mean they could stay. North wanted to travel, to look at the world and understand it, she wanted to experience more now that there was nothing stopping her.

When they split, she had taken a part of Markus with her. He hadn’t understood this phrase when Carl had told him long ago, what it means to lose a part of yourself when you lose someone. When North had left to find her own thing, Markus understood Carl’s words.

But, he also understood that life goes on. He had discovered a few new aspects about his whole new personality ever since he had some time left for himself. He liked birds, and he liked feeding them; Markus would occasionally come into a supermarket, ignore the glares he’d receive from the humans, and buy bird feed. He had a spot outside the new Jericho where pigeons would come and he’d feed them. He liked the solace it gave him, this simple activity.

That one morning, Markus walked into the store and found almost no one there. The cashier looked bored, and the store looked deserted. He understood that it was because it was a weekday, and continued. He noticed how intricately the items were arranged now, and his thoughts wandered. He wondered what it would feel like to eat something for sustenance, he wondered what those ‘fruit loops’ tasted like. He wondered what oranges tasted like, what beans tasted like, what alcohol was like. However, as he was lost in thought, he didn’t realize he bumped into someone, sending whatever it was they were holding, crashing to the ground.

Markus’ eyes widened as he immediately helped the woman, she had dropped oranges that she was carrying.

     “I’m so sorry, Miss.” Markus said, helping her.

What he expected to hear was a snarky and rude response, bashing at him for being an android. Everyone recognized him now that androids were free; he was the face behind the rebellion.

Instead, what he heard was a soft giggle. Markus’ eyes widened as he spotted you, smiling up at him. He double checked who you were, and identified that you were indeed a human being. However, he noticed something else that caused the area around his fake heart to ache. He didn’t understand why it was, but as he was slowly beginning to identify his own emotions, which were not too far off from human emotions, Markus identified this as sadness.

(y/n) (l/n), aged (age), Grade IV – Glioblastoma

Markus’ eyes were wide as you picked up the oranges yourself, he was shell shocked to see you smiling at him.

     “Have you read my diagnosis, Markus?” You asked, clearly aware of who he was.

     “I’m sorry, Miss (l/n).”

     “Call me (y/n), since I know who you are.” You said playfully, now getting up.

Markus got up and stood before you, as you continued to smile at him. He felt something strong inside the area near his heart, and he squinted a tad bit to try and place his emotions. Doing it real time took more time than others did, and it was something he understood he could never be good at when compared to human beings.

     “It’s called sympathy.” You said, looking up at him.

     “What is?” He asked.

     “What you’re feeling. It’s sympathy. I don’t blame you, really. It’s just… That’s all that everyone feels when they find out about my illness.”

     “I didn’t mean to remind you of an unpleasant truth, (y/n).” Markus said, earnestly.

     “Oh, no, no! I know. But,” You winked at him before continuing, “You shouldn’t look into people’s details without their permission. It’s encroaching on privacy.”

Markus’ eyes widened as he stepped back, unaware of how to respond. But, he paused when he noticed you laughing at him.

     “I don’t understand why you’re laughing.”

     “I was just teasing you! Come on, help me with this.”

Markus didn’t move. “Come on,” You said, widening your eyes a bit, your smile growing. “You owe this to me for encroaching.”

Markus immediately followed, earning another burst of laughter from your end. You looked at him over your shoulder and nodded once, which made Markus follow you. You handed him the bag of oranges after paying for them and he walked by your side. All this while, he hadn’t understood why he was smiling.

     “What were you buying the bird feed for?”

     “To feed birds.” Markus responded, blinking curiously.

You blushed before clearing your throat, “Of course. Why else?”

You sat beside him at the spot in front of Jericho, as you two fed the birds. Markus watched you, trying to place what he was feeling next.

     “You’re smiling.” You said, not looking at him.

Markus felt his face warm, it was unnatural. He felt you turn and look at him a moment later.

     “When you turned deviant,” He looked at you now. “Was there something that you felt you needed to do?”

     “I… I was a caregiver for this person named Carl. He was like… He was like a father to me. And when he was hurt, I just couldn’t stand around and do nothing. His son was threatening me, and I was ordered to not defend myself. But, I just… I couldn’t just—”

     “Couldn’t not defend yourself.” You completed for him.

Markus gulped, “Yes. I had to. I felt this need inside me that told me I had to think and act according to what I wanted. Carl always told me to try and figure out who I am on the inside, not just as a caregiver.”

     “He sounds like an amazing person.”

Markus smiled, “He was.”

After a long moment, he turned to you before trying to figure out something more about what he felt. It had transitioned from sympathy, it was moving toward a much warmer feeling. A feeling so familiar, yet so different from the ones he had felt in the past.

     “You’re kind.” He stated, fighting the urge to touch her hair.

     “Why do you say that?” You asked, blinking.

     “You know who I am, and yet you treat me with the same respect that you would with any human. You treat me like a person.”

You chuckled once before answering, “But, isn’t that what you are? Isn’t that what you fought for?”

There it was, that feeling again. It could be felt around the area of his thirium pump, also called a fake heart. He recalled the fact that she was sick, he recalled how his diagnosis had presented the facts that her condition was not healthy. And yet, here she was, being positive and smiling at him like he was just another person. And even if this was what he had fought for, he understood it would take time for people to adjust to a new truth.

A truth that they were not used to.

     “Markus,” You began, standing up. “Would you mind if I joined you here?”

He stood up immediately, “No! I’d like it very much if you joined me here.”

He had spoken before he thought. This happened for the very first time in his new life, which caused his eyes to widen and his fake heart to ache. You stood there, watching him fight with himself over these new feelings, and smiled warmly at him. Inching closer, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed just a bit.

     “I like how honest you are.”

You knew that appreciating his behavior would help him. You didn’t know how, but you knew this was what he needed. You were always curious to see how androids had developed feelings and emotions. Your own android, someone who was taken away from you so harshly during the rebellion, was a close friend. She was the only person sometimes that understood your sickness, even when she had never been sick before, or could never fall sick either.

You missed her, and you knew that every android was fighting with the rise of their newfound emotions.

*

You were meeting Markus regularly for a whole week. You tried hiding your condition from him as much as you could, but for some strange reason, he seemed to know when something was off. As an android, you understood that he observed you sometimes to try and figure out things. But, you grew to trust him, ever since letting him know about the concept of privacy.

     “Good morning, Markus.” You said, approaching him, only to have him return your smile.

And when he returned his smile at you, you felt a part of your heart corrode away. You couldn’t understand it, but there was something to Markus’ personality that allured you to him. You had stopped fighting it a while back, but now it just confused you.

You knew you liked him, even if it was just a week, but time flew faster for you than it did for the others; and it was a fact that you had begrudgingly accepted. Sitting beside him, you took his hand in yours and squeezed, this had become something short of a ritual whenever you saw him. You were once told that holding hands was a sign of affection, and you wanted nothing more than to be affectionate to this man—to someone who had never known true affection.

However, that day was not your best day.

A moment later, you felt your hand freeze midair. Markus felt signs of an adrenaline rush, and dopamine levels were falling. He turned to you and saw that your vitals were acting strange and he immediately rushed to you. He held you, heard you gasp and he felt it again—the fear—a dreaded feeling that drove him to the path of deviancy.

     “(y/n), I’m taking you to a hospital. Is that okay?”

You shook your head, “N-No. Take me home, Markus. Please.”

It didn’t take him long to find out where you lived. Holding you in his arms, he found a taxi, and he got in, keeping you intact. He was scared again, watching you struggle to remain in a sitting position, your bodies were mashed with one another. He could smell your hair, he could smell your sweat, he could feel the texture of your skin and he felt overwhelmed with all of the inputs he was receiving. He hadn’t understood the feeling yet, and now he wasn’t even sure if he could.

On reaching her home, he rushed to her bedroom, a bit confused as to why there was no AI linked to the house. Laying her there, you pointed to the table for a particular medicine. You had to take it each time you felt dizzy, and here you were.

Markus helped you, and in close to ten minutes, you were fast asleep.

As he watched you sleep, his gaze focused on your hand, the one that was gripping to his as if your life depended on it. Markus felt that feeling again, the familiar one, the different one. He felt an ache near his chest, he felt his face warm, he felt his mouth dry.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what this was.

*

When you woke up, you knew you didn’t have much time left. But, this was perhaps what pushed you to speak to Markus that night. Markus hadn’t moved from his spot, which caused you to chuckle at him. He smiled softly, before reaching forward and taking your hand in his. This was the first time he had initiated any sort of affection, and it was safe to say that you loved it.

You loved him.

     “Markus, how are you feeling?”

He was confused. “I should be asking you that.”

You laughed, “But, you already know that, don’t you? You can read my vitals.”

He could, and he did know. But, he respected your privacy. And you knew that.

     “You’re just… You’re more human than any of us, Markus. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His eyes were having a reaction. He was tearing up, and he didn’t know why. The only other time it happened was when Carl passed away. He felt his breath fluctuate, he felt his abdomen area twist and turn, he felt his chest ache.

He knew what it was, but then why did it hurt so much?

     “Markus, there’s something you need to know.”

     “(y/n), I think I have something to tell you as well.”

     “I go first though, okay?”

Markus smiled, tightening the grip on her hand.

     “I knew I was on borrowed time ever since I learned about my condition. I drove away so many people who tried to help, but there was always one person who never left.”

     “Who was it?”

     “Her name was Ariel. She was my caregiver. She was like a mother to me, she took care of me and she listened. She turned deviant a long time ago, but she loved me and I trusted her. But I never told her. Just when I was going to tell her I loved her as well, they took her away.”

Markus remembered when the androids were taking into camps. He felt terrible.

     “I miss her every day, and I regret not telling her then what I felt. I won’t make the same mistake again,” You looked at Markus and grinned, “I love you, Markus.”

His eyes teared up and he squeezed her hand.

He had understood the feeling. It was love.

     “I love you, (y/n).”

     “I know, you goof.”

She opened her arms and Markus sat there, unmoving. He wondered what he had to do, and when she beckoned him closer, Markus moved to hug her. She held him and breathed, knowing this was perhaps the last time she could ever be affectionate.

Pulling back, she placed a soft kiss against his lips and spoke again, “I love you.”

And perhaps, it was because of (y/n), did Markus ever understand what true loss of a love felt like.