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kidstemplatte · 11 months

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daisy chains

pairing: terzo/fem! reader | word count: 8.6k

summary: the story of how you and your childhood best friend, terzo, repaired a broken bond.

warnings: very very very vague and brief description of sex.

playlist if you're interested! message at the end as usual <3

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

Terzo Emeritus: Your best friend, first lover, and soon, worst enemy.

You and Terzo were both raised in the Clergy and as you frequently spent time together, you couldn’t help but be drawn to his personality. It was hard to ignore the goofy faces he’d flash at you during service, the outlandishly hilarious questions he had no hesitation to ask Papa Nihil no matter how many people were watching, the crumpled pieces of paper he’d toss at you with amateurish comments about the subject matter being preached at you, to which you’d add unflattering doodles of his father blabbering and toss it right back.

One day after mass, as you exited the large chamber, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Reacting to the sudden touch, you stopped in your tracks and turned around. There he stood, the funny boy who made your days a little more lively. He had messy jet-black hair, glowing olive skin, a cheeky smile, and most notably, a piercing left eye, its pitch-black center contrasting beautifully against his soft white pupils as well as his other green eye.

“I’m Terzo.” He greeted you, a thick Italian accent adorning his voice as he held out his hand.

“I like your name.” You replied.

“I like yours too! Eh, what is it?” He asked.

You giggled, shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N! Bellisima!” He beamed, blowing a kiss into the air. “I like your drawings, Y/N.”

“Thanks. I like your eyes.” You replied.

“Grazie! Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Can I show you something cool?” he asked, eagerly.

“Sure!” you chirped.

The boy bolted past the door and began sprinting down the hallway in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement.

“Hey- wait for me!” You cried out, chasing after him, but struggling to keep up. As you ran further away from the clamor of the crowd, the sound of your rapid panting and footsteps echoed through the corridor. Finally reaching the end of the hallway, you continued following Terzo, who had just bolted out a pair of glass double doors.

“Terzo! Wait up-”

Woah.

You had never been out here before. It was breathtaking.

In front of you was a decadent garden. Rows of perfectly trimmed hedges and beautiful flowerbeds sprawled across the terrain, with ivy-covered arches overlooking them. The pathway carved into the ground was similar to that of an enchanted labyrinth, except exuding a sense of safety rather than fear. There was no getting lost in this garden, no matter how winding, the path always led you right back to where you started.

“This is Primo’s garden. Pretty, si?” flaunted Terzo. “Secondo says flowers are for girls. I don’t think that’s true.”

“I don’t think so either.” You agreed. “Who’s Secondo?”

“Mio fratello.”

“Your brother? Frowny-face?” You inquired, molding your facial expression into a bitter scowl.

“Ha! Si, Frowny-face.” He imitated your expression and then grinned. “Seguimi!” He gestured to you, waving his hand for you to follow him under the grand arch and into the garden.

“Your brother did all this?” You asked, astonished by the utopia in front of you.

“Si!”

“Oh, look at the roses!” you exclaimed, pointing at the bed of beautiful red flowers.

“Oh? You want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks and looking towards the roses.

“Is that allowed?” You cautioned.

“Eh, he doesn’t have to know…” He suggested impishly, tiptoeing towards the bed of roses.

Suddenly, like magic, the oldest Emeritus son appeared beside you.

“No no no no no no no, get out at once, mess with le margherite, not my fiore prezioso! Shoo!” he scolded, waving his hands so you would scatter.

You two dejectedly abided, following the perfectly paved path out of the garden. Pacing through the soft grass, you headed towards a patch of grass with an assemblage of daisies sprouting from it.

Primo was always complaining about those things; the daisies that never seemed to go away. He didn’t plant them there, they just appeared seemingly out of the blue. If he cut them down, they grew once more, with ten times the amount. They would never die.

Terzo let out a “huff” as he plopped himself on the ground beside the flowers, muttering to himself what you presumed to be violent threats in Italian.

With care, you plucked one of the many flowers off the ground , holding it up and examining it closely. It was beautiful, the vibrant yellow center contrasting beautifully against the soft white petals as well as the soft green of the grass. You began collecting more from the ground, threading the stems together, to create a daisy chain. Some of the daisies were a little withered, missing a few petals. But you didn’t mind. It was a daisy chain, nonetheless.

Your daisy chain had soon become a daisy crown, as you pieced your first and last flower together.

“Pretty!” you announced, placing the crown atop his raven hair.

“Me?” He asked.

“Yeah! Boys can like flowers and be pretty.”

“I guess that’s true.” He reckoned. “Can you teach me?”

“Yeah!” You both sat in the grass, chatting and making daisy chains for what felt like hours until the sky turned a hazy orange and you were being called back inside by Primo.

“Terzo! Margherita! Cosa fai? È tardi! Come inside, I make brasato al barolo.” His voice bellowed through the air.

“Brasato al barolo?! Arrivo, Primo!” Terzo shouted in response.

“Bruhza- brasato?” You awkwardly pronounced.

“You’ve never had Brasato al Barolo?!” He gasped, mouth agape as if you had just revealed the world’s most profound secret.

“No.” You confessed.

“You’re eating with us tonight, Margherita!” Terzo declared, grabbing you by the hand and taking off towards the building.

Soon enough, you two had a tradition: sneaking off to make daisy chains in the outskirts of the garden. Those were simpler times you would soon yearn for. You two grew up with the daisies, sharing secrets, laughter, and precious memories, including your first kiss.

One day, you sat by the daisy patch, waiting for Terzo’s arrival. You sat in solitude, twirling the strands of grass in your fingers, wondering what was taking him so long. Your contemplation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of screaming and quick footsteps growing closer and closer. Terzo was sprinting towards you at full speed, then collapsed into the grass, breathing heavily.

“Y/N!” He shouted, despite being right next to you,

“What happened?! Are you okay?” You fretted, crouching on the ground beside him.

“I saw something disgusting!” He said, sitting up and now facing you.

“What?!”

“I saw Secondo kissing a girl!” He said, pointing to his mouth and letting out an exaggerated vomiting noise. “Bleaugh!”

“Ewww!” You shuddered. “Gross!”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea.” Terzo prompted, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What is it?” You responded.

“Let’s try it,” he suggested, grinning wickedly.

“Kissing?”

“Yeah! We’re nine now! Basically grown-ups.” Terzo reasoned.

“I thought it was gross?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s gross because it’s Secondo. Wanna do it?”

“Sure.” you agreed.

“Ready?”

“Okay.” You agreed, squealing and shaking your hands to let all your nervous energy out.

“Three…” He started.

“Two…” You continued.

“One.” You chorused.

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you two leaned in and pressed your lips together for about a millisecond.

Peck.

You two erupted into a storm of laughter, flailing about and rolling in the grass. “Ew!!! Ew!!! Ew!!! Ew!!!” The both of you shrieked repeatedly through exuberant giggles, tears rolling down your cheeks. Recovering from your fit of laughter, you two opened your eyes and were faced with none other than Terzo’s brother, Secondo, hovering above you, his scowl as frightening as ever. He loomed over you, carrying a sense of impending doom with him, akin to the Grim Reaper.

“Terzo. Partire.” he commanded his brother. Ah, Secondo. Bearer of bad news, as always.

“Why?” Terzo retaliated, propping himself up so he was now sitting up straight.

“Hai il cotillion.” Secondo replied.

“Non mi interessa.”

“Io dirò Papa.” He threatened.

Terzo threw himself back on the grass, shut his eyes, and let out a cartoonish snoring noise. You stifled a giggle.

“Io dirò Primo.”

Terzo sighed, reluctantly standing up from his spot on the grass as you also stood up beside him. Secondo’s gaze shifted from his brother to you, eyeing you for a moment before snickering.

“Ha. Looks like she’s taller than you now. Good luck getting a girlfriend, fratellino.” He snorted.

Really, Secondo? He had to say that in English?

“I am?” You asked, looking to your side and finding out you were indeed taller than your best friend, the top of his head barely under your eye level. You initially wanted to jump for joy, tease, “Take that, Terzo!” But seeing the hurt look on his face immediately eliminated that desire.

“Secondo, that’s mean.” You scolded him.

“The truth hurts.” He quipped, turning around and storming off back towards the church.

“It’s okay Terzo, girls just mature faster than guys. Soon you’ll be the tallest one in the whole Clergy.” You reassured him.

“Whatever… I have to go. See you, Margherita.” He waved, making a kissy face at you before letting out a hearty laugh.

You stuck your tongue out in return, then laughed as you waved goodbye to Terzo trampling through the grass, off to another boring cotillion lesson. The thought of someone as wild as Terzo participating in such formal activities humored you greatly. Doesn’t matter how old he got, he would never grow up.

°❀°

From then on out, the two of you spent your time with the daisies. You grew with them.

You got older and watched each other change as the years flew by. Terzo got taller. Maybe not as tall as he’d like to be, but still, taller. And very handsome. Everyone practically clawed at him, debilitatingly envious of the attention you received from him, although it was strictly platonic. One may think that all the mornings you were spotted leaving his room were due to some frisky activity the night before, but that was far from the truth. Unless frisky activity was watching horror movies, painting each other’s nails, and gossiping until you could hear the birds chirping, indicating it was probably time to go to bed.

The bond you two had was sacred. Your deepest darkest secrets were kept safe with each other, the things you wouldn’t dare to utter to anybody else. Together, you were wild and free, sneaking out into the latest hours of the night, coming back home drunken and dizzy, and soon having to hold each other’s hair back. You liked Terzo’s hair a little long, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You two fought each other’s battles, took each other’s stabs, cleaned each other’s wounds. You were a shoulder to cry on when Terzo displayed rare moments of vulnerability, and in return, he offered the same security to you, holding you while you cried over some stupid boy, or something much more serious. Nobody dared to mess with you, because that meant they were messing with Terzo. And that was a death wish.

You were best friends, and that’s all. From adolescence to adulthood.

The morning of your 18th birthday, you woke up to a firm knock on your door and a voice echoing through the hallway.

“Margherita!” You heard Terzo sing joyously.

“One- One second.” You grumbled, voice cracking as you awakened from your slumber. You groaned as you forced the soft duvet off your body, crawling out of the warm embrace of your bed. Not wanting Terzo to see you looking rusty, even though he had countless times before, you barely opened the door, peeking outside. He was already gone. What a weird boy. As you stepped aside, your foot brushed something on the floor. Looking down, you caught sight of a piece of paper that was slipped under your door, one that was haphazardly torn out of a journal probably supposed to be used for taking notes. You chuckled to yourself.

Forgive me, I have some duties to attend to today. I’ll be back here at 7:00 to come pick you up for your birthday celebration. See you soon, Margherita.

-Terzo

Birthday celebration? You smiled, pondering what he would do for you. Terzo was many things, but predictable was not one of them.

You decided to get a little dressed up. It was your special day, after all. Rummaging through your closet, you settled on a nice floral sundress with a lace trim, as well as your favorite pair of shoes, which happened to match quite nicely. You spruced up your hair, tying a bow in the back with a pastel ribbon you were lucky enough to have found sitting in your drawer.

The day was pleasant. Your friends and siblings of sin showered you with love and attention, some even presenting you with gifts that made your heart beam with graciousness.

Just before Terzo was scheduled to arrive, you touched yourself up a bit, fixing your makeup and hair. You gave yourself a final look in the mirror before hearing a knock on the door at promptly 7:00 p.m.

Terzo looked very handsome, you must say. His raven hair was slicked back, a few strands falling out in just the right places. He was wearing a white dress shirt and black pants, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, which were placed behind his back.

“Wow, bellisima!” He beamed, pulling out a red rose from behind his back.

“Aw, thanks, Terzo.” You smiled, taking the rose and holding it to your chest.

“My beautiful best friend all dolled up. Give me a twirl!” He exclaimed, taking you by the hand and spinning you around before you even had the chance to agree.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” He said, just as he caught you at the end of your twirl.

“Thanks, Terzo.” You replied, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks. “You look nice too.”

“Grazie! Shall we go?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“Where?” You questioned while taking his hand in yours.

“You’ll find out!” announced Terzo, before taking off.

You two embarked on your typical route to your daisy bush. But after passing through the glass doors, to your surprise, he turned in the opposite direction of the daisies. He dragged you towards the garden you were still forbidden from entering after all these years, Primo still wary of his brother’s antics.

“Wait- are we allowed to be in here?” you asked. “Si. We aren’t kids anymore. I was granted permission. Look how mature I am now!”

“Sure.” You laughed.

It was just as beautiful as you remembered, maybe even more beautiful. Not quite as big, but that’s what happens when you grow up, you presumed.

He led you to an area beside a large oak tree, its leaves providing the perfect amount of shade. A large blanket was spread across the grass, and placed in the middle was a basket containing some desserts, drinks, and a few small gifts.

“Aw, Terzo, this is so sweet.” You expressed, placing a hand over your heart at his thoughtful gesture.

“It’s what you deserve.” He replied. “A beautiful setup for a beautiful girl, no?”

“Stop it.” You blushed.

You two took a seat on the quilt, taking a moment of silence to soak in the scenery.

“It’s so weird finally being back in here.” You said fondly. You know, I’m still a little bit upset Primo banned me from coming inside too. I didn’t even take anything!”

“Si, but Primo had a hunch.”

“Huh?”

“That wherever you go I would follow.”

“Did he really say that?”

“Si.” He nodded.

As the night grew darker, a soft breeze began to pick up, and goosebumps began to graze the surface of your skin.

Terzo noticed you tucking your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to warm yourself up.

“Are you cold?” asked Terzo, a concerned tone in his voice.

“Kind of, but I’m fine.” You reassured him, although your body language screamed otherwise. In response, Terzo wrapped his arms around you as you rested your head against him, snuggling into his warmth. You loved this. You loved his scent, his touch, his presence; it kept you grounded, kept you human.

“Terzo?” You uttered, your head still leaning against him.

“Si?”

“You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“And you are mine.”

You don’t know how it happened. Terzo pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, something he had done before. Looking up from where you had nestled your head, you two met eyes, but it was different this time; your heartbeat came to a sudden halt. The twinkle in his white eye was brighter than it ever had been, and you longed to get closer to it. Closer to him. You were completely engulfed in your entrancement with your best friend. The spark in his eyes had become a newly born flame, and you felt your heart’s wings flutter like a moth fleeting towards light.

“Pretty.” he uttered, voice barely audible.

“Pretty?”

“You. You are pretty.” He reiterated, not breaking eye contact.

Nothing was to be heard except the soft hum of the cicadas and the stream rustling in the distance.

“I don’t know,” you responded, looking away shyly.

“I do.” He said, placing his hand on the side of your face, as he began grazing his thumb across your cheek.

His gaze moved from your eyes to your lips, and back up once again. The arm that was still wrapped around you was drawing you in closer, as an unspoken heat began to arise between the two of you.

Terzo placed his lips on yours in a gentle kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

This felt right. This felt good.

You looked Terzo in the eyes, face flushed, before you eagerly dove back in, lips crashing against each other as you explored each other’s mouths, establishing a steady rhythm. Your hands traveled around his body, pulling him closer as you two kissed in the moonlight, giving you an ethereal glow.

One thing led to another, and things became more heated; hands tugging at hair, teeth nipping at necks, bodies melting into each other’s touch.

“I want you.” Terzo whispered against your neck in between kisses and bites.

“I want you too.” You mouthed. “Please.”

He showed you everything that night, feelings you didn’t even know were possible, and explored parts of you that nobody else had before.

You remember the rhythm of him so vividly you could make music out of it, each breath, moan, whisper, and word that escaped his mouth. He made you feel beautiful for the first time in your entire life, even when you were in your most vulnerable state, lying exposed under him.

“You’re beautiful.” He reassured you when you felt the urge to hide yourself from him. “So beautiful.”

Fear became arousal, any minimal pain becoming pleasure, as a friendship became something more. You fit together perfectly. You were made for each other. And after you two both reached the heights of pleasure, Terzo collapsed beside you, rolling over so you were face-to-face.

“I love you, Terzo,” You panted, hazy in your state of afterglow.

“I love you too.” He replied, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “La mia Margherita.”

You woke up in your own bed the next morning, eyes darting around the room after noticing Terzo’s absence. It wasn’t too odd for him to have left bed before you, he typically had to leave your sleepovers early in the morning to fulfill his tasks. You decided after getting ready to check if he was in the office he was newly granted. Yesterday was a big night, after all.

You knocked on his office door before inviting yourself inside.

“Terzo!” you grabbed his attention, shutting the large door behind you. What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping towards his desk.

He looked upset, his posture tense as he sat in his desk chair, hand resting on his forehead as his brow furrowed deeply.

“Hi, Y/N. Take a seat.” He addressed you, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the ornate desk.

“Are we in a meeting?” You asked, laughing as you took a seat in the chair.

“Y/N.” he started, his voice cold as he looked up at you.

“Yes?” you replied, anxious regarding his suddenly harsh tone.

“I apologize about last night.”

“How come?”

“I let my impulses take over.”

“No, Terzo, it was good! You didn’t hurt me at all! It’s okay.” You sweetly reassured him.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I shouldn’t have given in.”

You recoiled at his statement. Why was he speaking of you as if you were a sin? What were you, some temptation? Had he forgotten what church we were in?

“Given in?” You questioned, voice weakening. “What does that mean?”

“It was unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional? I’m not your colleague, Terzo, what are you talking about?’

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I need some distance moving forward.

“Distance? What do you mean? Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Y/N, I said, it is just… not a good time.”

“We have all the time in the world. We can make time, Terzo! Please!” You pathetically pleaded, a familiar ache welling up in your throat and chest. “Did… did last night mean nothing to you?” Tears began pouring down your face. “Have the last 11 years meant nothing too?”

“I never said that.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you were just horny and thought it would be hot to 'rid me of my innocence’ or some shit like that? Whatever perverted fantasy guys like you have? Well, congrats, Terzo. You did it. You’re a real savior.”

“I just, I cannot have you as my lover.” He stated.

“Why not? We did something… I did something I was so afraid of because I trusted you. Do you know how hard that was for me? Do you want me, or do you not?” You cried, voice breaking.

“It is not a good idea for me to have a lover.” repeated Terzo, his voice monotonous, like he was programmed to say so.

“What are you even saying? Was I not… good?” You cried out in desperation, cringing at your own words.

“I have a role to fulfill. I need to focus on my future.”

“Am I not a part of your future, Terzo?” You wept.

Terzo did not reply. He looked away from you, his expression cold and empty. Like a moth to a flame, he burned you. Plucked the petals off of you and watched them float into a roaring, relentless fire, the smooth white edges withering into a lifeless dust.

“What the fuck happened to you?” You cried, desperate for some sort of reaction from him, good or bad.

Stabbed by his betrayal and sudden distance, you stood up and slammed the chair into the desk, resulting in a shrill creaking noise and a rough slam that made your ears hurt.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, Terzo. Fuck you. I hope you fail just like Nihil told you you would. I can’t wait to see it happen. Fuck you.”

You stormed out of the room, shutting the door with such force that you could hear the contents of the room rattle as you sped down the hall.

Slamming the door to your room, you threw yourself onto your bed, putting your face into your pillow as a gut-wrenching wail left your throat. For hours, you bawled, letting out broken sobs so deep from within your body someone nearby might think you were dying. Your face was drenched in your snot and tears, the pillow stifling your breathing, making your gasps heavier and more painful. You clenched your hands into fists so tight they trembled, punching the mattress over and over again, wishing it was a person who could cry back, who could feel even a glimpse of the pain you were experiencing. You were furious. Filled with pure, seething rage. Not only with Terzo, but yourself. How could you give up your body to someone like that? So foolishly? How idiotic could you be to think a playboy like Terzo would view you any differently than anyone else? You would never get your body back. It was Terzo’s now. His last memories of you were ones you wish you could erase from his mind, ones of you writhing in pleasure, and ones of you bursting with anger. You wanted to break everything in sight. You wanted revenge, and you would get it. You knew just how.

The process of becoming a preacher in the clergy was notorious for being tedious and lengthy, even for an Emeritus son. A series of tests as well as several essays, presentations, and duties were required. The final obligation to achieve promotion was to present a journal assembled over time, documenting the studies and embarkments accomplished over the past few years.

His examination day was tomorrow.

It was a good thing you knew where Terzo kept his things.

You remember walking past Nihil’s office the next day, stopping in your tracks when you were bombarded by the sound of furious yelling so loud it might shatter glass.

“You are worthless. Worthless. Is this what you have to bring to the Emeritus name? Nothing? How foolish I was to think you would ever live up to the task. To any task. You are an embarrassment.”

Oh, no.

You wanted to take it back. Dive into the lake where you had thrown the locked leather journal and give it back. Maybe drown in the process.

You placed your trembling hand over your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you began to comprehend what you had just done to your best friend, who no doubt knew you were behind its disappearance.

Soon, the door swung open, startling you nearly as much as your presence startled Terzo.

“Terzo, I… I’m sorry-“

He paid no mind to your apology, striding right past you, your shoulders brushing as he flew by.

He had ruined your chances at love, and you, his chances of success. Now, both of your chances at friendship were ruined as well.

How could he forgive you?

°❀°

The daisies were far overgrown.

It had been 5 years. 5 years since his betrayal and yours. 5 years of watching him prance around the abbey with people he probably didn’t even know the names of, with wit and character not even measuring up to half of yours. He had changed since your separation; sure, he had always had flings, but now he was just a full-on fuckboy.

Nobody in the Clergy dared to mention your falling out, surely it had to be a sensitive topic; you two were practically glued to each other’s sides, and suddenly couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other.

Whispers spread about the church like wildfire, rumors which concocted possible explanations for your separation:

“I heard she cheated on him.”

“Apparently she was bad in bed.”

“I heard she was a psycho bitch.”

“He deserves better.”

Each time you ran into each other led to a sense of unpleasantness in the air and painfully awkward, sometimes heated exchanges; a notable example being when he dared to show up to your 21st birthday party.

The lights were dimmed, casting everyone in a shadowy glow, your intoxication causing the figures in the room to blur together. However, through the disorientation, you could still make out Terzo’s face in the crowd.

The alcohol had ignited a newfound courage inside of you, as you pushed your way through the swarm of people and stood face to face with him.

“Why are you here?” you growled.

“I was minding my own business.”

“Minding your own business at my party? If you’re here to be a whore, do it some other night. I know it’s all you’re good for, so it may be a little difficult, but fuck off, please.” You fumed.

“Whore?” He scoffed. “Should I repeat the things you were saying to me exactly three years ago on this very day?”

“Wow, Terzo, I’m impressed. I didn’t know someone as stupid as you would be able to do the math.” You snarked bitterly.

“Stupid? I taught you everything, Y/N. So some other poor man wouldn’t have to struggle to get it up while he did all the work.” He quipped.

“You sure didn’t struggle.” You retorted, the grip on your glass tightening.

“Then again, when have you ever had any respect for people’s work?” His stare suddenly darkened, sending a shiver down your spine, even in the heat of the crowd. “Oh, it’s okay, dolcezza. One day someone will give you the fairytale you desire, you’ll be a sad little housewife who will never lift a finger unless it’s for her own pleasure since her husband can’t get the job done.”

It was like someone took over your body. You were a puppet, your intoxicated rage pulling you by the strings, launching your arm forward, and drenching the man in front of you in red wine.

He didn’t even flinch. Not even did he blink. Instead, he stared down at you with a wicked smirk, licking the splattered wine off of his lips, before flashing his teeth in a smug grin. That evil, sexy bastard.

Now you were the crazy one. You were the one who attacked first, while Terzo stood as comfortably as ever. You wished he fought back, taking the empty glass in your hand and smashing it against your head, drenching yourself in the same dark red he was tainted with. You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to anyone, wiping tears from your eyes as you left the masses of the party to celebrate your existence without you.

°❀°

Nearly a year had passed after your confrontation with Terzo, and you two had not spoken since then.

It was a typical Saturday sermon, you and your siblings sitting in neat rows, awaiting the arrival of Papa Nihil. As time passed by, chatter began to arise; where was Papa?

The noise came to a sudden halt whenever the chamber doors swung open as Papa Nihil entered, followed by his third son. Stepping behind the pulpit, Papa cleared his throat.

“Today is a blessed day.” He began, capturing the attention of the room. “Today is a blessed day because it is proof that our devotion to the Dark Lord can overcome any obstacles. That his darkness can push us to new heights that far surpass the heavens.” His voice echoed through the silence of the room. “I am pleased to announce that today’s sermon will be delivered by our newest preacher, my son, Terzo.” the man announced.

He did it.

He started all over again, from scratch, and managed to get it done. You were shocked, even though you shouldn’t have been- you knew he had it in him. He was going to be Papa one day, you knew, so why was his sudden shift in power hurting you so much? Why were you still angry over something that happened four years ago? It felt like he had won a game you didn’t even know you were playing. You had been tearing yourself apart from the inside out over what you had done, spoiling his first chance at success, telling yourself you wanted him to succeed even without you, but deep down, you were still bitter. Bitter seeing him so high and mighty after what he did to you.

Or was it because as he elevated higher and higher, he was still drifting further from you?

Terzo stood before the pulpit, head held high as he recited a prayer. “Ad impiam Dominum, Salvatorem nostrum, oro, tenebrae tuae valeant tangere corda eorum qui in hoc conclavi hoc serviunt. Ut nos ad studium libertatis, cognitionis ac voluptatis, dirigas. Nema.”

“Nema.” You whispered as the rest of the clergy echoed his prayer.

“I will leave this to you. I trust the Clergy is in good hands.” Nihil stated, exiting the room at a senile pace.

“Ciao, my Siblings of Sin. I figured today I would start with something fresh, something a little more… youthful.” He began, evoking laughter from his audience. Already off to a good start. “Today I would like to- actually- love to examine something found in every one of you … lust. Now in this church, we are no strangers to sin of any kind, but this one… We relish it. We are not ashamed of it. It is the reason we are all here, to begin with. What creates life. But what if I told you that lust is not only what brings us into this world… but what keeps us here as well? It is not only heated nights and bodies intertwined, it is something… greater.”

You couldn’t listen to this. You couldn’t. It was too much, even after all these years. As you slowly felt yourself begin to disconnect from reality in a state of dissociation, a ringing began to build in your ears, like your body was trying to protect you from whatever he was saying. You mindlessly stared at the floor as he continued preaching, and in the blink of an eye, an hour had passed, as Terzo made his final statement.

“It is lust that keeps us alive. Thank you, siblings.”

The church burst into applause, clearly moved by his words. But it made you angry. This wasn’t a performance act, this was service, but he had the Clergy wrapped around his finger with his captivating presence. But, at the same time, could you be mad at him for a job well done? You were the bitter one, holding onto your past as you desperately pumped air into its cold, dead lungs, trying to bring it back to life and rekindle a flame that was long gone.

As you were about to exit the room with your siblings of sin, you had the urge to say something on your way out. You reached the front of the room, Terzo standing just feet away at the pedestal, your mind rapidly firing through things you could say to him. Say sorry. Tell him he did well. Flip him off. Grab him by the hair and throw him into the wall. Or… grab him by the hair, pull him in close, and- Ugh. And just as you passed him, you built up the courage to give him one brief message.

“Congratulations.” You quietly uttered, not even making eye contact, before following your siblings of sin out of the room.

Terzo continued to exhibit talent and passion through his sermons over the next year. He was a gifted speaker; he had no trouble capturing the attention of the crowd. You actively fought against his charm, attempting to train yourself to tune out Terzo’s preaching. It was hard to pay attention to the subject matter at hand whenever his voice brought back memories of the laughter, whispers, and conversations you shared throughout your childhood. Unfortunately, due to the overwhelmingly positive reactions he received from the siblings, he was preaching quite a lot, every Saturday at that. You stayed in the shadows during group discussions, your voice silent, your passion for the Dark Lord not alive as it once was. Eventually, you started skipping sermons on Saturdays altogether. Missing your own God hurt less than missing your best friend.

You knew you should be over it, it was foolish and immature to hold onto your past conflicts, which happened years ago at this point. But you hated him. Or, at least, you hated seeing him. The power had gotten to his head, there was no doubt. His ego had never been higher. You couldn’t stand seeing him stride around the Abbey looking so satisfied with himself, arm wrapped around the nearest person as he ushered them to his bedroom.

And no matter how hard you tried to drown it out, his words still echoed in your mind.

“It is lust that keeps us alive.”

°❀°

One Saturday, when you had planned to study in the library, word spread that everyone was to attend service that day. You would rather do anything but go, but you couldn’t disobey the direct orders given to you. You took a seat in the back of the room as usual, bracing yourself to hear Terzo’s voice. As the siblings waited for the arrival of their speaker, you fidgeted with your habit, staring at the ground as you anxiously pondered what message was so important for everybody to be summoned. You heard footsteps pacing towards the pulpit, a sigh, and then a voice addressing the Clergy. But to your surprise, it was not Terzo’s voice, rather than that belonging to his brother, Primo. Primo stood at the head of the room, his facial expression solemn, and cleared his throat.

“Siblings of Sin,” He began. Something was wrong.

“We are a family here. We have come together as a group of outcasts, free thinkers, and rebellious souls. We have found comfort and safety in each other, and will continue to do so throughout all phases of life.” He stated, his grim tone leaving the siblings on the edge of their seats.

“And death.”

Your heart dropped. No, there was no way.

If you’re here to be a whore, do it some other night. I know it’s all you’re good for-

Someone as stupid as you-

Fuck you. Fuck you, Terzo. Fuck you. I hope you fail just like Nihil told you you would. I can’t wait to see it happen. Fuck you.

Every hateful thing you had ever said to Terzo began replaying in your mind at a debilitating pace. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way. You sat in the back of the chamber, trying not to hyperventilate as the world caved in around you. It felt as if your heart had sunken into the ground beneath you, and you wished you would sink with it. That it was you instead of Terzo. You began to spiral so deeply you swore the room began to as well, your surroundings blurring together as the walls began to spin, and-

“We will never forget Papa Nihil and his impact.”

The spinning stopped. You could finally breathe. The tears streaming down your face became tears of joy as you experienced a relief so enlightening you felt like you could float. It was horrible, that the news of someone’s death brought you relief, but you were infinitely grateful that the someone wasn’t Terzo. But why wasn’t Terzo here?

It didn’t matter. He was somewhere. And you had to find him.

You stood up, excusing yourself from the service as you burst out the door and sprinted down the hallway. The adrenaline you faced was still coursing through your veins and fueled your every step. Your body, driven by autopilot, knew where it was taking you before your mind even did. You ran down the hall and out of the two glass doors, nearly tripping down the staircase as you entered the large field. A patch of daisies stood in the distance, and beside it, a figure hunched over, sitting on the ground. Terzo.

You ran faster than you ever had in your entire life, nearly crashing into the grass as you knelt beside him.

“Terzo!” you panted. He did not respond, focusing on something in his hands. You looked down and noticed a few daisies were set before him, two in his hands as he tied them together. “I’m not here to start a fight, Terzo.” His silence combined with your shrill voice made you feel like the preacher here. “Terzo, please just talk to me, I- I thought you died, Terzo.” you expressed, voice cracking.

“What?” He responded, his head snapping up.

“I thought you died.” You hysterically repeated. “I thought you were gone. When they, they told us about Nihil—before they said who it was- I- I thought it was you.” You wept. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him so tightly he might burst, his body initially stiffening up, but soon melting into your embrace. You had seen him and heard him throughout the past five years, but you hadn’t felt him in far too long. How you missed him. His scent, his warm body pressed against yours. The soft rise and fall of his chest. You pulled away, soaking in the eye contact you had craved for so long. “I was so scared. I was so scared. It was like… The world stopped. And I just… I regretted everything. I felt what it was like to lose you. Again. For those few seconds. I wanted nothing else more than to have you back. And I do. I want you back. I’m… Why am I always the one crying? I just, I want you back.” You wept violently. “I miss you, I miss you so bad. I want my best friend back. I know you’ve moved on but it hurts to hold this in. I miss you so bad, I masked it behind hate, but I want you back so badly.”

“… I miss you too, Y/N.” replied Terzo, quietly.

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t even share my condolences- I’m sorry about Nihil. Is that why you skipped service today?” you asked, momentarily hesitating before resting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. He’ll come back to haunt me, if not literally, figuratively. And no, I am not the one skipping service. I haven’t had my Saturday spot in months now, I switched to the late-night sessions on Fridays.”

“Why did they move you?”

“They didn’t. I chose it. I thought maybe you would come to that one.” He confessed.

“You… you noticed I was gone?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then… why didn’t you just come talk to me?” you asked.

“I thought, why would you want to talk to me after what I did to you?”

“If you know it was so wrong, then why did you do it, Terzo?” you snapped.

Terzo did not respond, and instead, stared at the flowers in his hands.

“Don’t go silent on me again. Please. I remember exactly what you said five years ago, Terzo. You told me, ‘It is not a good idea for me to have a lover.’ And then you go off to fuck however many siblings of sin, and won’t even look me in the eyes? I don’t care how long ago it was, Terzo, it still hurts just as bad as it did the day you told me to take a seat across from you. Every time I think of what happened in the garden, I… It hurts. I felt disgusting, Terzo. I felt so guilty. I still do. I wanted to scrub my body clean of you after you left me, I wanted you out of my body and mind. But you never left. I wanted so badly not to want you after what happened. But I still did. You broke my trust, Terzo. You broke my heart. And seeing you walk around the Abbey all high and mighty, so happy, at your peak, without me, it’s destroying me. ”

“Y/N. I haven’t had a single lover since the day I left you. All those quick fucks- they weren’t lovers. Those people were the impulses I let take over. Not you. You were more than that. I am far from my peak. I am at my lowest. The only thing that kept me alive was you, Y/N. Lust was the second-best thing. I’m sorry, Y/N. I am so sorry.” He apologized, looking up at you, his eyes full of remorse.

“Then why did you ghost me? Why, Terzo, if it was so hard, why did you-”

“It wasn’t my choice, Y/N,” He interjected.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t your choice?” You sniffled, rubbing tears from your eyes.

“It was my father, Y/N. My father- Nihil told me I couldn’t be around you anymore. He knew we were more than a stupid fling, that’s why he stopped it. He considered a relationship that was as committed as ours, platonic or romantic, more of a distraction from my duties than worthless hookups would be. And then, after I had nothing to present to him, he thought it proved his point. That you weren’t good for me, you distracted me from my goals. It only worsened his disapproval. I should’ve stood up to him. I should have explained otherwise. But I was afraid.”

“Terzo, I… It did prove his point. I ruined your chance. I’m the reason you had to wait to become a preacher.” You lamented, guilt riddling your heart.

“It is true, you took the journal. It hurt. That you intended to do such a thing, soil my progress. But you didn’t ruin anything for me. I ruined it for myself. I wasn’t ready for that responsibility at all. There was nothing in the journal to begin with, Y/N.” He revealed.

“What?”

“I did nothing. I had nothing to present.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, Y/N. There was nothing.” he restated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew I hurt you so deeply. I didn’t want to hurt you again.I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me ever again. I was afraid of my father’s reaction. And now, I don’t have to be afraid.”

Both of you were so blinded by your stubbornness, unwillingness to communicate, and fear of rekindling a flame you thought was long gone, that you did not realize you both longed for the same thing: each other.

“I can’t pretend this is just a friendship, Terzo. Or that it ever was. I know it was one night, but I… it’s not just that.”

“It was never just one night,” he responded.

“Could we… would you ever want to try again, Terzo?” you asked, fearfully preparing yourself for rejection.

“I want that more than anything.” Silence spread through the air once again. But this one was a comfortable silence, one that allowed you to bathe in each other’s presence. One that allowed you to be grateful for the each other and nothing else. You looked down at the flowers placed in front of him.

“Sometimes when I am stressed, I do what you taught me. Make daisy chains.” He explained. “It feels like you’re with me.”

Your heart melted at the sentiment of the action, as he tied the final two flowers together.

“Well, I’m with you now. And I’m not going anywhere.” you professed.

Terzo tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and placed the crown on top of your head.

“And neither am I.” He said, kissing the top of your head before pulling you into another hug, one less frantic than the one before, but still just as needed. The feeling of his heart beating against yours breathed new air into your lungs, brought you back to life, his arms wrapped around you providing you a familiar sense of safety you had been deprived of for years now.

“My best friend. My soulmate. La mia Margherita.”

°❀°

As you rolled over in bed, you found yourself face to face with your lover, his appearance still blissfully remnant of his slumber; heavy eyes and perfectly messy hair.

“Happy birthday, Margherita.” he rasped, a soft smile grazing his lips.

You two began getting ready for the day, side-by-side in the bathroom mirror, as you always did.

“Shit. I’m out of paint.” He cursed, after opening the container and seeing the contents were empty.

You rummaged through your makeup bag and handed him a tube of eyeliner, saving the day.

“Ah, grazie. What would I do without you?” He asked, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“I’m not sure.” You teased. For a moment, you just stared at him in the mirror, admiring his features as he applied his eye makeup. “Hard to believe you’re a Cardinal.” You broke the silence.

“You thought I couldn’t do it?” He played with you, gently jabbing you in the side with his elbow.

“Oh, no, it's just- it feels like yesterday you were giving your first sermon as a preacher.” You recalled. “It is lust that keeps us alive.”

“You still remember?” He asked, smiling fondly.

“Of course I do.”

“I won’t let you forget, my lust may continue into my afterlife as well.”

“You’re gonna be a horny ghost?” You laughed.

“Si.” He confirmed, evoking more laughter out of you. “Merda. I have a meeting at 12. What time is it?” He asked, frantically looking around for a clock.

“You’re a mess. Good thing that’s why I love you.” You chuckled, entering your bedroom to check the time. “It’s 11:55.”

“Merda! Okay, I have to go now. I’ll be back here at around 12. Have fun with your sisters.”

“See you, Terzo.” You said, kissing him on the cheek before he bolted out of the room.

Later that day, after a nice brunch with your sisters, you and Terzo sat on a stone bench in the garden, admiring the surrounding scenery. You discovered something new about it each time you visited- Primo’s attention to detail never ceased to impress you.

“So, about what I said earlier…” He began.

“About being a horny ghost? Terzo, we aren’t doing anything in here.” You bantered.

“You’re right. It is too bright outside. Unless you suggest otherwise. Ah, I joke. But what I was going to say is…” He took a deep breath in. “How much of my first sermon do you remember?”

“Um, honestly, not a lot… My head wasn’t in the right place,” you admitted.

“I assumed. But there is something I said that day that I would like to tell you now if that’s okay.”

You nodded.

“I have learned a lot about lust. And, while a lot of it is, well, a hands-on experience, I could say- the most important thing I have learned about it is something I learned in contemplation, by myself.”

“What is it?”

“That lust is not only heated nights and bodies intertwined, it is something… greater. But what I did not say was that- that something greater is you, Y/N. We are taught lust is longing, a desire so deep that we cannot live without it… Something innate inside of us… You are the only thing that ignites that inside of me. The only thing that has ever been innate to me, ever. There is nothing else I long for more than you.” confessed Terzo, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. Your jaw dropped when he opened it, revealing a dazzling gold ring that glimmered in the sunlight, the band embedded with gems, and in the center, a sparkling diamond surrounded by engravements resembling petals.

A daisy ring.

“Y/N… Will you marry me?”

The winding path had led you right back to where you began, a love so pure and treasured it could never fade.

Terzo Emeritus, your best friend, former enemy, your first and last lover.

The tears forming in your eyes made them glimmer as brightly as the ring itself, as you replied,

“Yes.”

Terzo slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling you in for a passionate kiss before wrapping you in his embrace. And as you were mid-embrace with your fiancée, you opened your eyes, and in the distance, spotted a few daisies daring to sprout beside the garden gates.

Primo was right. Those things would never die.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

o m g.

please forgive me, i always get all sappy at the end of my posts even though it's stupid haha. this is the longest i've ever consistently worked on a fic, and the longest one i've written. this was a wild wild ride let me tell you. i actually had to shut my laptop at one point cause i started tearing up, i know the story is nothing revolutionary, but i’m emotional haha. also… i HIGHLY recommend the playlist. i’m biased but i am in love with this playlist haha. there are a lot of hidden details and concepts in this fic i kind of geek out over. if you’re interested in an analysis post, lmk! or if you’re not, well i might make one anyway haha i’m annoying lmao

thank you endlessly for reading, as always.

/) /) ( . . ) ♡i love you! ( づ🌷

-alice

📎 check out my masterlist!

✉️ requests are always open!

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus #papa terzo #papa emeritus x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader

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transparentgentlemenmarker · 25 days

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Carte des tribus autochtones d’Amérique

Les ancêtres des Amérindiens actuels sont arrivés en Amérique du Nord il y a environ 15 000 ans. En conséquence, une grande diversité de communautés, de sociétés et de cultures s’est finalement développée sur le continent au fil des millénaires. La population des peuples autochtones des Amériques avant le voyage de Christophe Colomb en 1492 était de 70 millions 562 tribus habitaient le territoire contigu des États-Unis. Les dix plus grandes tribus indiennes d’Amérique du Nord : les Arikara, les Cherokee, les Iroquois, les Pawnee, les Sioux, les Apache, les Esquimaux, les Comanches, les Choctaw, les Cris, les Ojibwa, les Mohawk, les Cheyenne, les Navajo, les Seminole, les Hope, les Shoshone, les Mohican, les Shawnee, les Mi’kmaq, les Paiute, les Wampanoag, les Ho-Chunk, les Chumash, les Haida. La carte donne une perspective des jours heureux les Mayas et des Aztèques ont pris fin bien avant les tribus de l'intérieur des terres d'autres régions, certaines d'entre elles résistant encore presque jusqu'au 20e siècle. À une époque, les peuples autochtones, qui comptaient des millions de personnes, parlaient près de 4 000 langues. La conquête européenne des Amériques, qui a commencé en 1492, s'est terminée par une forte baisse de la population amérindienne à cause des épidémies, des hostilités, du nettoyage ethnique et de l'esclavage. Lors de la fondation des États-Unis, les tribus amérindiennes établies étaient considérées comme des nations semi-indépendantes, car elles vivaient généralement dans des communautés séparées des immigrants blancs.

culpture de 4,5 m dans le Dakota du Sud Dignité à été réalisée par l'artiste Dale Lamphere pour honorer les femmes de la nation sioux

#tribus #american indian

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kumonomukoue · 15 days

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Fellow Honest SSR – Playful Dress (Personal Story completa, traducción español)

[SSR] Fellow Honest – Playful Dress

¡Aah, qué ofensa más cruel! Capítulo 1

⚠️ Esta historia contiene un spoiler del groovy de Fellow y puede contener spoilers de la historia de Playful Land

[ ♪ ]

PAÍS DE LA ARENA ARDIENTE – CIUDAD DE LA SEDA

FELLOW: ¡Vamos, acérquense!

Lo que tienen ante sus ojos es una maravilla sin igual en este mundo.

Un verdadero espectáculo de valor inestimable, sólo aquí.

*bullicio*

FELLOW: *susurrando* Maravilloso, empieza a reunirse más gente…

Si no quieren perder la oportunidad, dejen sus madol en esta lata. ¡A la voluntad~!

Sin más dilación, presten atención…

FELLOW: Aquí lo tienen… Algo único, ¡un títere que se mueve sin un solo hilo!

¿Qué les parece, damas y caballeros? ¿Verdad que parece que está vivo? ¿¡Verdad que es extraño!?

Lo que ven es un delicado títere teriomorfo, único en este mundo.

Son ustedes muy afortunados de estar viendo un artículo tan valioso. Si están satisfechos, esta es la tasa de visualización…

*quejas*

FELLOW: ¿Cómo? ¿Que no es un títere, sino un humano vivo normal y corriente?

¡Qué falta de respeto! ¿¡En qué se basan para decir tal cosa!?

Mírenlo bien. Es capaz de moverse sin un solo hilo, pero no llora ni ríe aunque le golpee o haga cosquillas.

Es un títere realmente elaborado. Sí, sí, sin lugar a dudas.

FELLOW: *susurrando* ¡Ah, oye, Gidel!

¿Que se ha movido, dicen? Tonterías, debe de ser su imaginación.

FELLOW: ¿Qué insinúa, caballero? ¿Acaso dice que yo, Fellow Honest, soy un mentiroso?

¿Que no era su intención…? ¡Aaah, me siento tan ofendido~!

Me cuesta creer que me llamen mentiroso a mí, que soy considerado un caballero sincero, pulcro y que pone la honestidad ante todo…

¡Jamás pensé que llegaría este día! ¡Aah, qué ofensa más cruel!

Oiga, caballero. Ya que ha herido mi orgullo, espero que muestre un poco de sinceridad.

GIDEL: Achús.

FELLOW: ¡Ah!

*abucheos*

FELLOW: ¿C-Cóoomo dicen, caballeros? ¿Qué les devuelva el tiempo y dinero…? No se enfaden… Je, jejeje…

*susurrando* ¡Mierda!

¡¡¡CORRE, GIDEL!!

*huyen*

FELLOW: Ah… aaah… Parece que los hemos dejado atrás.

¡Idiota! ¿Por qué has tenido que estornudar?

¡Estaba a punto de conseguir no sólo la tasa de visualización, sino también una indemnización por daños y perjuicios!

GIDEL: …

FELLOW: Hay que ver… Después de tanto trabajo, al final sólo hemos sacado esta miseria…

Nada más que estos metales preciosos que llevaban.

Ha sido pan comido robárselos con magia mientras se quedaban mirándote como tontos, tanto aprecio no les tendrían. Perfecto.

Hora de despedirse de este antro. ¡A por el siguiente, Gidel! ¡Fuajaja!

[ ☆ ]

[SSR] Fellow Honest – Playful Dress

¡Aah, qué ofensa más cruel! Capítulo 2

[ ♪ ]

CIUDAD MÁSBELLA – GALERÍA DE CRISTAL

FELLOW: ¡Atención, estimados clientes! Esto que tengo en mis manos es una piedra mágica, pero no es una piedra mágica cualquiera.

Data de hace 1000 años, encontrada en las profundidades del Mar de Coral. ¡Cuenta la leyenda que uno de los Siete Grandes Hechiceros buscaba esta piedra mágica!

A simple vista parece una piedra normal y corriente, pero en realidad es una ganga. Una vez lo sepan, lo demás les parecerá trivial.

¡He aquí la gran revelación! Solo con tocar esta piedra, cualquiera podrá usar magia. ¡Es un artículo milagroso!

GIDEL: *bocina*

FELLOW: ¡Sólo para ustedes, estimados clientes, la busqué en un arduo viaje hasta los lugares más lejanos y recónditos del sur, arriesgando mi propia vida!

¡El precio para esta reliquia única en el mundo empieza a partir de los 50.000 madol! ¡Que los interesados levanten la mano!

*cri cri*

FELLOW: …Anda, ¿nadie levanta la mano? ¿Qué pasa, que aquí no hay más que pobretones?

Buah, panda de cobardes. ¡Maldición! ¿Es que nadie tiene el valor de coger un milagro con sus propias manos?

Qué pocas agallas, hasta las pulgas que tenemos se ríen de ustedes.

Seguro que están pensando que nadie se creería ni una palabra de unos vagabundos como nosotros, ¿verdad?

¿O que es una estafa, o un malgasto de dinero?

¡Eso no puede ser, estimados clientes! No pueden sospechar de todo o harán del mundo un lugar más aburrido…

No pasa nada. Si creen lo que les digo, no hay nada que temer.

“Come on to the theater!”

“Life is Fun”¹

*bullicio*

FELLOW: Usted de ahí ha sido más rápido. ¡Apuestan 80.000 madol por ahí! ¡Bien, 100.000 madol por allá!

¡Tienen ustedes muy buen juicio! ¡Su sabiduría es digna de eruditos del futuro, sin duda!

…

FELLOW: ¡Fuajajaja! Han caído todos como moscas, ¡qué imbéciles!

¿Una piedra mágica que te permite usar magia~? Si tal cosa existiera, no la usaría en vosotros.

Gracias a mi Unique Magic, hasta los que al principio sospechaban se lo han tragado por completo. Qué bien sienta estafar a los que nos miran por encima del hombro.

A ver a ver, las ganancias de hoy…

Dos, cuatro, seis, ocho…Ooh, está muy bien. ¡Mira Gidel, hoy vamos a cenar como campeones!

GIDEL: *salta*

FELLOW: Pero si seguimos robando, vamos a acabar levantando rumores. Puede que las ganancias por esta zona hayan llegado a su fin.

GIDEL: …

FELLOW: ¿Cómo, que quieres ir al sur?

Buena idea. ¿Y si vamos a por los turistas de vacaciones en resorts?

Podemos unirnos a esos viajeros de celebración y pasarlo bien con ellos.

…Sí, me gusta. Se te ve animado, Gidel. Esta vez nos convertiremos en turistas refinados.

Podemos ir adónde sea cuando sea. No estamos atados a nada ni nadie.

¡Ventajas de ser libre!

SABANA DEL OCASO – CIUDAD ALBORADA

*pasos corriendo*

FELLOW: ¡Aaay! ¡Juro que ya no haremos nada malo, de verdad!

FELLOW: ¡AYUDA~~~~!

[ ☆ ]

¹ “Come on to the the theater! Life is Fun” es la Unique Magic de Fellow, y se traduce como “¡Ven al teatro! La vida es divertida”. La parte de “Life is Fun” también tiene escritura en japonés: “薔薇色の夢”, que significa “Sueño del color de las rosas”.

[SSR] Fellow Honest – Playful Dress

¡Aah, qué ofensa más cruel! Capítulo 3

[ ♪ ]

SABANA DEL OCASO – CIUDAD ALBORADA

FELLOW: ¡Mierda, serán tacaños!

Con esa cartera tan gruesa que llevaba. Solo quería que repartiese un poquito, ni que fuese para tanto.

Solo he mangado unos pocos miles de madol, no hacía falta ponerse así… Au au au, todavía me palpita el chichón que me han hecho.

*rugido de tripa*

FELLOW: Aah, qué hambre. Va a ser duro saltarnos la cena hoy también.

A ver si hay algo para comer…

… ¡Quieto, Gidel! ¡No abras esa lata!

Hay que ver… ¿no ves lo que pone? Pone “OIL”, es una lata de aceite. Aunque la abras, no se puede comer.

Siempre haces lo mismo cuando tienes hambre. No importa cuántas veces te lo diga, ¿es que no sabes leer?

GIDEL: …

FELLOW: Qué remedio, mira, agáchate. Te lo voy a escribir en el suelo, así que esta vez no lo olvides, ¿vale?

GIDEL: *se agacha*

FELLOW: ¡La “o” de “orange”! Redonda como una naranja, ¿a que tiene buena pinta?

¡La “i” de “ice cream”! Como el polo que nos comimos el otro día, tan fresquito y rico.

¡La “l” de “laugh”! Está torcida, como si estuviese riéndose.

… ¿Que por qué la “l” no es una comida? Pues porque no se me ocurría ninguna, qué le vamos a hacer.

Hay límites para lo que te puedo enseñar.

*susurrando* Tsk, si hubiese ido a la escuela… ahora sería más serio…

GIDEL: *le da toquecitos a Fellow* …

FELLOW: ¿Cómo? ¿Que para comer no hace falta ir a la escuela?

Aay, Gidel. Hay que ver contigo…

¡TÚ SÍ QUE SABES!

FELLOW: Eso es, aunque no hayamos ido a la escuela, seguimos vivitos y coleando.

Al fin y al cabo, lo de aprender con papel y lápiz no es más que un juego de niños.

Ríete de los que aprenden modales en la escuela, nosotros aguantamos más que nadie por sobrevivir.

GIDEL: !

FELLOW: ¡Sea como sea, confía en mí! Si vienes conmigo, tú también acabarás siendo toda una estrella.

¡Vamos a mofarnos de esos sabelotodos bobos haciéndoles bailar al son que les toquemos!

Bueno… La cena de hoy es más importante que todo eso. Voy a por algo para comer, tú ve encendiendo una hoguera.

Quema cualquier caja de madera o papel que te encuentres por ahí y… ¿Eh?

¡Pero qué tenemos aquí… una oferta de empleo!

Mira, Gidel, ese granuja quiere contratar a gente. ¡Además el trabajo es en un parque de atracciones!

No sé que estará pensando, pero la última vez que trabajamos para él nos hizo ganar bastante.

No aguanto que nos tome por tontos, pero tiene una buena fuente de ingresos…

Sólo es una sugerencia, pero ¿le echamos un vistazo, Gidel? Cuando las cosas se pongan feas, huimos.

Vivimos cada día sin saber qué pasará en el mañana, pero este es nuestro negocio familiar, lleno de libertad y diversión. Podemos ir adonde sea.

GIDEL: *asiente*

*silbidos*

⚠️SPOILER⚠️ Groovy de la SSR de Fellow ↓

[ ☆ ]

↪ Lista de traducciones

⚠ Por favor, no resubas mis traducciones sin permiso. Puedes usarlas si me das créditos ⚠

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘�� ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

La verdad es que ha pasado un año ya y todavía no he leído la historia de Playful Land… pero no he podido resistirme a tirar por Fellow (y viene con Gidel!! 2x1). Espero que en NRC no pasen hambre 🥺

¡Espero que os haya gustado y podéis sugerirme correcciones en los comentarios!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland traducción español #twst #twst traducción español #twst fan translation #fan translation #twst: playful land #twst playful land #fellow honest #gidel

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mariharem-trash-heap · 1 year

Text

Talk Her Down

The inevitable seems to have finally happened: Marinette gets akumatized after a friend gets hurt in the crossfire between her and Lila - and it’s up to her friends and classmates to do what they can to calm her down before Ladybug can purify her akuma.

Notes:

I really, really love the trope of “this isn’t you, I know you’re in there, let me talk you down”. ESPECIALLY when it’s between friends. It’s just so (chef’s kiss)

Also yes, I’m well aware eastern and western dragons are largely different - I’m keeping mostly elements from eastern dragons because they’re super cool and underrated over here in the west.

(This will have hints at a Mariharem (but I couldn’t resist adding a lot more Lukanette because that ship still has my heart, sue me)

What began as a bright, sunny day had suddenly grown dark, sinister clouds rising to shun the sun and bathing the city of Paris in a thick gray curtain of dread.

Civilians looked on in horror from the relative safety of their homes at the giant red and black dragon weaving her way through the air, steam hissing from her nostrils, gleaming golden eyes narrowed in rage.

“LILA!” A thundering roar reverberated through the streets. Whoever remained outside had to clap their hands over their ears lest the painful ringing the sound caused actually did them damage as raindrops began to fall from the skies.

The softest tinkling of bells in the akuma’s wake was offset by another earsplitting roar, masking the panting of the two heroes trying to follow her.

“Man, who gave her control over the weather?” Chat Noir complained, eyes narrowed against the growing sprinkling of rain.

“I think it’s-- a culture thing?” Chanceux answered hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth as they vaulted another rooftop. His fingers were beginning to slip. “We need to change her back before all of Paris floods!”

Chat winced, troubling memories resurfacing. “Yeah,” he quietly murmured.

“Marinette!” Alya shouted from the roof of Le Grand Paris, squinting against the pounding rain.

The dragon whipped her head around, and glinting eyes settled squarely on the reporter, just a tiny, tiny figure on the roof below her.

“Mari, hey,” she continued, her tone dropping into a more soothing one. “Look, I know you’re upset - but you can’t let Hawkmoth get to you! You’re hurting people!”

“Hurting people?!” She exclaimed. “Lila has been the one hurting people for far too long! She needs to face the consequences of hurting my friends!”

Alya tried her best not to heave a frustrated sigh. “I know! I know, believe me, Marinette, I know. But what you’re doing - this isn’t you! The Marinette I know would never hurt so many innocent people like this!”

For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker by the akuma’s eyes - something troubled.

“Please,” she pleaded, reaching out to her friend. “Fight him, Marinette. You’re better than him.”

It seemed to have worked. And then that irritating glowing purple outline appeared before her face and she let loose another earth-shaking roar; and with a rush of wind so strong it nearly blew her off of the building, the akuma - Marinette - had gone.

Alya huffed, raising her phone to speak clearly into it, “Sorry guys, I tried. She’s beyond even listening to me.”

“Got it, babe,” Nino answered, before hanging up and slipping his phone back into his pocket. Turning around, he surveyed the members of Kitty Section... minus their guitarist.

“Where’s Luka?” Mylene wondered aloud, worry knitting her brow.

“He...” Juleka hesitated, but Rose’s comforting arm around her shoulders helped her finish, “...he wanted to try and talk her down. I told him it was a stupid idea, but he insisted.”

“If he can’t do it, we won’t be able to either,” Ivan admitted glumly.

Rose looked around the group in desperation. “But we’ve got to try something! That’s Marinette!” She cried, turning her pleading gaze on her girlfriend. “None of us liked to be akumatized, did we?”

An awkward air hung around as the rest of them either shook their heads or mumbled various “no”s and “not really”s.

“It’s not our faults we were akumatized,” the blonde reasoned. “I know I would’ve loved someone to help me fight off Hawkmoth’s butterfly.”

Juleka turned to her, a soft, solemnness to her eyes. “But would you have listened?”

Here, Rose opened her mouth to reply... then a few seconds later, shut it and slowly shook her head.

“We’ve still got to try something,” Ivan repeated, raising his drumstick. “For Marinette.”

“For Marinette,” Mylene echoed.

“For-”

“Marinette!” Nino exclaimed, finally spotting the serpentine akuma slither its way through the clouds.

It almost appeared she didn’t hear them, but finally she slowly turned to fix a hard stare on the group. Steam hissed again from her nose, as if in an annoyed snort. Something akin to frills - or spikes? - flared back and forth down her back, jet-black fading to white tips.

“Marinette!” Nino repeated, relief flooding his voice as he adjusted his glasses. “Oh, dude! We’ve been worried sick-- hey, where are you going?!”

She didn’t dignify him with an answer, turning back and returning to her course.

Nino watched her go, agape in shock.

“We tried,” Juleka heaved a sigh and patted his shoulder. “It’s up to the rest, now.”

“Luka...” she quietly wondered to herself, “... where are you? Please be safe...”

“Ugh, why am I here again?” Chloe huffed, turning her back on the group in the courtyard.

“Maybe if we use you as bait, we can keep her in one place for long enough that Chat Noir and Ladybug--” Alix hesitated, “--Chanceux can purify her.”

“That’s ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Do you want all of us to become fish food?” The blonde demanded. “Sabrina, we’re leaving.”

For once, the redheaded girl hesitated, watching Chloe begin to walk off.

Once she registered that no footsteps were echoing behind her, the rich girl paused, turning back with a raised brow. “Well? We don’t have all day, Sabrina - I’m already soaked enough as it is from all this stupid rain.”

All eyes fell to the girl, who shrank a little from the scrutiny. Alix and Kim looked to her in disdain, Chloe, expectant, and Max was still searching the clouds.

“I... no,” she murmured.

“What?” Chloe squinted, leaning in with a hand cupped to her ear. “I didn’t hear you. Speak up, will you?”

“I said no,” Sabrina stated forcefully, more forcefully than she meant to, judging by the surprise in her face. “I’m staying here. I...” she glanced to Max before looking her friend in the face, “I want to help Marinette too.”

It was silent for a second, save for the pounding rainstorm. Chloe was utterly aghast.

Then the blonde scoffed, whirling around and walking away. “Whatever, your loss. I’m going home where it’s warm and safe.”

“Wait, there she is!” Max suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the skies. The other students crowded around, watching a bright red line rushing through the clouds, cutting clean through the gray like a bullet.

“Marinette!” Kim bellowed as loud as he could. “We need you to stop!”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t give a single indication that she’d heard.

Max paused, pondering something quietly to himself for several long seconds. When Chloe gave another dismissive scoff, he looked up, a newfound determination in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea; but first, who has Lila’s number?”

“Luka, where in the hell are you?” Juleka questioned.

“Nowhere you should go to in this weather,” he answered, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he got off the bike. Pulling off his helmet, he returned his phone to his hand and looked around. “Wait for me at the Liberty. I’ll be back as soon as I talk to her.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? She didn’t even listen to us.”

“She’s... so angry, right now,” he murmured, and a chord of pain struck his chest as he heard another angry roar ripple through the sky. “I’m hoping I can at least keep her for a minute - but if I’m lucky...”

“If you’re lucky, she’ll decide to spare you,” his sister huffed. After a second of silence on her end, she added, “The band is worrying about you. Hurry up and come home.”

Luka managed a chuckle at the warmth belied in her voice. “Will do.”

As he hung up the phone, he walked through the park until he finally came to the spot - and pulled out his guitar.

“Marinette!” He called, seeing her soaring above.

At the sound of his voice, the thunderous rain seemed to lessen in intensity for a moment - and so did the heat in her eyes as she turned to hover above the park.

Smiling up at her, he ran a hand through his drenched hair and pulled out a pick. “I know you’re angry right now... horribly angry... but I want you to hear something.”

Tilting her head slightly, she gave no indication she would take off.

Strumming a few chords, he began to play a song - one that he knew almost as well as his own, or his sister’s, or his mother’s. As he looked up at her, he could see her golden eyes closing, an echo of the day they met.

“Is it working?” He questioned, sparing a glance up at her hovering form. “Can I finally... be the one to calm her anger, just as she tried to bring me back all that time ago?”

The next time he looked up at her, his hopeful smile fell into a despairing gape as a familiar purple mask faded before her eyes, and they reopened - full of pain and anger.

“Marinette--!” he began, but his guitar slipped from his hands as giant, gleaming talons wrapped about him, tight enough so that he couldn’t wiggle free.

“Marinette!” Another voice yelled, and the akuma turned with a growl at the people leaping into the park.

Chat Noir and Chanceux led the charge, a group of teenagers following close behind. With them was a familiar person wrapped up like a package, angry and glaring - until she saw the akuma.

Lila squeaked, struggling against the rope. “When you said you were going to get help, this is NOT what I--”

“LILA!” The akuma’s roar dizzied them for a few moments, and the rain began to pelt them like hail.

“Marinette, stop!” Chanceux exclaimed, darting in front of the girl as the dragon dropped Luka only a foot to the ground in anticipation of grabbing her instead. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted Lila? Why?”

“Because she hurt Marc!” The dragon snarled, eyes flashing in fury at the memory. “She ruined his comic because he stood up for me!”

“Mari, Marc is okay,” the red-and-black-spotted hero tried to soothe, raising his hands placatingly. “So what if Lila ruined ou-- his comic? He’s already planning on making a better one!”

Marc chose that moment to hobble over from the crowd, trying to smile up at the serpent with tearstained cheeks.

“Marc...” The akuma murmured, all heat gone from her voice. “Your eyeliner is running.”

“Oh, is it?” His smile dropped, and he swiped at his eye with his thumb. Sure enough, a smudge of black stained it. “Well, that’s no big deal, is it? I’m more worried about you.”

“We all need you to shake off Hawkmoth,” Alya pleaded next. “We’re here to help. You would’ve done the same for us. It’s only fair we do the same thing for you.”

“We love you, Marinette,” Rose implored. “Please.”

The akumatized girl looked back and forth between her friends, brow knit in indecision.

Suddenly Hawkmoth’s voice snarled in her ears. “What are you doing, Huangdi?! You need to take the Miraculous!”

Clenching her eyes shut in pain, she screamed as a wave of agony flooded over her through the mindlink.

“He’s hurting her!” Ivan exclaimed.

“Quick, Chanceux,” Chat said, catching the hero’s attention, “where is the akumatized item? Do you see it?”

Scanning the creature, the hero’s brow knit together in confusion - until he saw it.

“The tail,” he stated. “The object is wrapped around the tail.”

Chat looked, and indeed, it was a beaded object tightly strung around it. His throat constricted, and his heart began to race - he recognized it.

“Do we have to break it to get the butterfly?” He questioned aloud.

“I hope we don’t,” the ladybug hero answered softly. “How can we talk her down with Hawkmoth abusing the mindlink?”

A cry from the dragon interrupted their little talk, and the two looked back to see the dragon land with a thud on the ground, her magnificent length spreading across the entirety of the park as she tried to cover her ears with her talons.

“Marinette!” Alya cried in alarm, rushing over to her.

“Please, please make it stop,” Huangdi begged, tears filling her eyes.

The group froze in fear.

Then, Rose spoke up. “Group hug!”

Determinedly marching over, she reached out and wrapped her arms around one of the dragon’s, holding it to her chest as tight as she could.

“Rose...?!” Juleka questioned.

“Go away, Hawkmoth!” Rose yelled as if she hadn’t heard her. “You big meanie! Leave Marinette alone!”

Bewildered, a few of the group exchanged glances.

Shrugging, Alix and Kim walked over with confident faces and joined Rose in hugging Huangdi’s arm and shouting at the villain.

“You stink, Hawkmoth,” Kim scoffed. “Hurting our friend like this? If you were here I’d punch you right in the face!”

“Not before me you wouldn’t!” Alix retorted, squeezing the scaled appendage as tight as she could.

“What... are they doing...?” Chat breathed as more and more made their way towards the dragon.

“I... I think they’re bullying Hawkmoth,” Chanceux let out a tiny little hysterical laugh. With an incredulous smile, he shrugged and made his way over to their hostage.

“You suck, Hawkmoth!” Nino joined in, pressing himself against their friend’s side. “C’mon, Marinette, you can totally kick him out!”

“Do it for me!” Alya added, trying her best to hug her as she planted herself firmly at her throat. “Come on, Marinette, you can do it. I know you can show this bully who’s boss.”

“Go away, Hawkmoth!” Sabrina yelled in unison with Rose.

Huangdi’s eyes continued to water, and large tears spilled over the sides of her cheeks and splattered to the ground with the rain.

Luka had long since picked himself up and pressed a hand against her scaled jaw. When she looked down at him, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“You can do this, Marinette,” he encouraged. “Where’s the amazing girl that stood up to XY for us?”

“I...” The dragon sniffled a little.

Slowly, her voice began to change from its guttural timbre to something softer.

“Hey, it’s working!” Mylene exclaimed in relief. “Come on, Marinette...!”

Slowly, the dragon began to flicker - and with a bright light and a sharp scream, she disappeared, leaving a shivering, sobbing Marinette in her wake. Her classmates fell to the ground abruptly, letting out exclamations of surprise, and Chanceux was quick to dart away from Lila and towards the dark-purple butterfly trying to flutter away.

“Gotcha!” He exclaimed with pride as it disappeared into the yo-yo. “Your evil comes to an end, akuma!”

Throwing the yo-yo into the air, he followed it with “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Almost immediately a bright light pierced the sky, and a swarm of ladybugs chased it as it shooed away the dreary blanket. Slowly, the bright blue sky came back into view as the rain came to an end. Rainbows danced about as the last of the rain shimmered in the sun’s cheerful rays.

Alya was the first to get to her. “Marinette, are you okay?”

Nodding wordlessly, she collapsed into her best friend’s arms, still crying - and one by one, the rest of them joined the group hug. Luka glanced towards Chat and Chanceux, gesturing towards the pile with expectant eyes.

The ladybug hero sighed, smiling in relief as he joined in. Chat hesitated, but Nino caught his eye and pointed at Marinette. He gave in and hugged around Alya and Luka.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” Marinette whimpered, trying to wipe away her tears. “I was just... so upset and hurt that I lost it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marc spoke up firmly, brushing away his own tears and squeezing her arm. “Like Chanceux said, I can always make an even better one.”

“Um, hello?” Lila groused. “Right here...”

“Oh, right,” Chat remembered with a glower, turning to the Italian girl. “As for little miss troublemaker, I want you out of the class effective immediately.”

“Wh- what?” It wasn’t just Lila, but Marinette who answered. The group stared at her even as she spluttered, “Chat, are you sure--?”

“She has caused too much harm in the classroom, Mari,” he stated, his usual banter traded for a serious tone that demanded she listen. “Not just to you - now she’s involved someone from another class, and it’s not just Bustier’s problem to deal with anymore.”

“He’s right,” Juleka added. “Nathanael and Marc are my friends. I can’t just sit and watch her start bullying Marc.”

“Th- that wasn’t-- I was just--” The brunette stammered.

“You tore up something precious to him,” Chanceux suddenly spoke up, voice flickering with anger as he stared her down. “That’s something Chloe would do, sure - but you? After everything we did to try and be nice to you?”

“It’s bullying,” Chat emphasized, folding his arms across his chest. “Marinette, I know you don’t want to make things harder, but I don’t feel comfortable having another bully in the classroom after everything else that’s happened this year.”

There was a heavy few seconds of silence from the group.

Finally, Marinette swallowed. She nodded her head and admitted, “... I’m not going to argue with you. In fact, I agree. I don’t want to have to deal with that anymore. It was enough being the only one having to keep quiet - but I am not going to stand around and watch my friends get the same treatment.”

Alya pulled away with a concerned frown. “So it was true, then? She lied?”

“She lied about the connection with Dargaud,” Marc confirmed. “I assume she’s lied about other things as well, but that one affects Nath and I.”

“I can’t believe this.” The reporter shot her a disappointed stare. “I was so set to publish that interview with you, too. That would’ve gotten me so much hate if people actually contacted them and asked about you, you know? I can’t believe I didn’t even see it earlier; you don’t even like comics.”

“I- I do,” Lila defended. “I read a ton of webcomics all the time!”

“You didn’t even know the name of the studio you were promising a gig with,” Chanceux pointed out with narrowed eyes.

“Do I have to know the names of every single last place I work with, now?” She questioned, exasperated and upset. “I mean come on, not even Gabriel Agreste himself would know like half the models and agencies he collaborates with. Excuse me for having a bad memory.”

Rose shifted from foot to foot. “This one was a lie, but... surely she can’t have lied about everything, right? Who just does that?”

Marinette turned to give Chat a flat look over Alya’s head. He nodded in response.

“Chanceux, why don’t we let her loose,” he said to the hero standing near her.

Pursing his lips, the redheaded boy thought for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. Might as well; the only thing she did was serve as bait for the akuma.”

Pulling at the end of the bow, the rest of the rope sagged free, and so did Lila. She got up, rubbing her sore arms, and glared at the group.

“Now I’m wet, muddy, and have ropeburn,” she complained with a heavy sigh. “Mama is going to have a fit when she sees how dirty my clothes got...”

As she ran off, the heroes returned their attention to the pile.

“Thanks, guys, I’m feeling a lot better now.” With another sniffle, Marinette smiled weakly at her friends. “I feel so ashamed for giving in...”

“Believe me, I was really close,” Marc commented with a light laugh. “If you hadn’t jumped in front of me and took the butterfly when you did...”

“You continue to be an Everyday Ladybug,” Chat praised with a soft smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Marinette. I’m just glad we were able to snap you out of it.”

Extending his hand, he added, “Why don’t I take you home? I’m sure your parents are worried sick.”

“Better idea, why don’t we have a sleepover tonight?” Alya asked, glancing around at the girls. “That way, we can keep an eye out for any more nasty butterflies.”

“I’m down.” Alix nodded. “I’ll ask my dad.”

“Sounds like fun!” Rose cheered, Juleka nodding in agreement.

“I’ll ask my dad,” Mylene said, folding her hands together.

“It’s settled.” Alya smiled triumphantly, squeezing Marinette’s shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Marinette. Just say the word and we’ll help you beat away Hawkmoth’s akumas with a superpowered stick if we have to!”

“You don’t have to,” laughed the girl as she wiped her last tear away and took Chat’s hand. “But thank you. Really, thank you. I’m glad to have you all as my friends.”

“No,” said the ladybug hero, his eyes growing soft at the pigtailed girl, “thank you for being ours.”

#miraculous ladybug #lila salt #akumanette #akuma class sugar #angst with a happy ending #long post

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legobiwan · 1 year

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I'm still sketching out some concepts for a Dimentio!returns story in the same universe as les meilleur.. and I guess this happened. More than likely I'll end up cutting half this out if I get to a final product. 'Kill your darlings' is regrettably true when it comes to writing. *Cries in a 100 orphaned scenes sitting in a master document*. But it's so, so easy to get caught up in Luigi and Dimentio's dynamic. My gods, is it fun to write.

Anyway, imagine, if you will, Luigi and Dimentio stuck in the Undewhere after the events of SPM, bound together by the Chaos Heart's magic. And yeah, Luigi maaaaaaay have wandered off with the Dark Prognosticus at some point.

This is a weird one, guys, and likely a little ooc (at least for Luigi. Definitely not for Dimentio, who is just a right bastard 24/7 in death and in life).

---------

“But the Pure Hearts.” Luigi pursed his lips, eyes darting to the coiled Underhand seemingly at sleep at the base of a black, rotted tree. He met Dimentio’s amused gaze. “They killed you.”

“Is that what your brother told you?”

Dimentio bent over, scooping up a handful of damp, rust-colored dirt between his hands, kneading the sticky material in a mangled, triangular figure. He plucked away at a skirted corner, rolling it into a little sphere between his fingers, pinching the upper face to create a thin outcropping, something akin to the brim of a hat. With concentrated care, he placed the ball - the head, Luigi thought - carefully back on the chewed-off angle.

“I did wonder if you were given the full story,” Dimentio said, considering the childish creation sitting in his palm with an odd tilt of his head. When he spoke next, it was more to the figure than Luigi himself. “If you remembered the beautiful creature we created together.”

Luigi frowned. “Creature?”

At this, Dimentio’s head snapped up, his mismatched, crescent eyes boring into Luigi’s own, a beat too long. Then, he grinned, turning over his palm to allow the rudimentary model to slip quietly to the ground. “I take it you weren't informed,” he stated.

Luigi stared at the ground where Dimentio’s now-forgotten art project lay, clenching his fists, fingernails carving ragged half-moon crevices into his palms. With a single, calculated motion, he raised his leg, planting his boot directly onto the fallen figure, flattening it with a satisfying squelch.

“What creature, Dimentio?” Luigi grit, chewing on every word as he loomed over the jester, who made no move of retreat or apology. To the side, another Underhand stirred, extending its thumb and forefinger wide in a silent, gaping yawn.

“Our grand finale, of course!” Dimentio exclaimed, giving an exaggerated bow as he doffed an invisible top hat in the direction of the gathering Underhands. “The great melding of you, I, and the Chaos Heart. A little something I called Super Dimentio. Not the most inspired moniker, I give you, but matters at hand had stifled my usual creative penchant.”

That...was something he hadn't remembered, the last hours of his time in Bleck’s castle a chaotic mishmash of jagged images, ill-fitting and swollen. They had merged, yes, were bound to each other's existences by the Chaos Heart. That much had been obvious from the moment he had stepped back in the Mushroom Kingdom, Dimentio’s cloying voice bouncing around his head at all hours of the day and night.

What he didn’t know, what he couldn’t glean from the Dark Prognosticus, was what form that ultimate fusion had taken in Bleck's high-ceilinged, geometric chamber of horrors. Unlike his time as Mr. L, his memories of this were sparse, pointillistic impressions of electric terror as Dimentio had called upon the Floro Sprout, his free will slipping from his grasp, disintegrating into a dark canvas of swirling violet.

“They saw us?” Luigi asked, voice wavering. "Like that?"

“They fought us,” Dimentio chuckled, "like that." He reached his arm forward, placing his palm against Luigi’s sternum. “And we were beautiful."

Luigi’s skin tightened at the jester's touch, his empty chest vibrating with pulseless static. He may have no memory of his melded image, but for too many mornings, he had woken with the taste of its infernal desire on his lips, a sweet burnt flesh and milky powder of cracked earth set atop loping, caustic ribbons of an unwound reality.

It was in him, was him now, these shadows of the Chaos Heart's design, this intoxicating, excruciating euphoria intertwined with Dimentio's twisted ambitions, wound tight around each thought and action he falsely believed to be his alone.

Luigi grabbed onto Dimentio’s forearm, ripping the jester's hand away from his chest.

“I want it and I want you out of my body,” he hissed.

Dimentio considered Luigi with narrowed eyes, his voice growing cold. “That will take some doing,” he countered.

“Then you’d better get cracking." Luigi gave Dimentio a shove, turning on his heel to march over to where Dark Prognosticus laid open, pages impossibly creaseless and unstained. He kicked at a creeping Underhand, sending it scurrying away, snatching up the cursed book before another crawling appendage could test its advantage.

“You wound me, Luigi,” Dimentio complained. “Can you truly say you haven’t enjoyed - what was that phrase you were so fond of in your alternate incarnation?” The jester snapped his fingers, feigning an open-mouthed revelation. “Ah yes. Our spiritual bond?”

Luigi gave a hoarse growl, gripping at the Prognosticus. “I should kill you."

Dimentio chuckled, his ever-present grin turning to a bladed malevolence. "You can't."

With a hissed, violent oath, Luigi hurled the cursed book at Dimentio, who leaned out the way just in time for the tome to go flying past his head. Luigi cursed his terrible aim, pointing to the dusty spot where the Prognosticus had landed.

“Then make it so I can.”

#hello there #writing #the eternal struggle #luigi #dimentio #more post spm nonsense #alright i am SO off duty from working right now #going to go on a run and then come back #write more #and play video games #for once in my not-so-young life i don't have to travel this weekend #YAY #coming up next: a little young mario and luigi story about the origin of their hats #and finally (FINALLY) the next chapter of expiate wherein i break mario's heart into a thousand pieces

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feelkindadizzy · 1 year

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[English ID (the dialogue has been loosely translated from french to english): A gifset of a Kaeloo episode. 1. Badka yelling "Hello friends!". 2. Stumpy, Quack-Quack and Mr Cat are blow away by his yelling and are shouting in fear. Once it’s over, Mr Cat says "Oh yeah…" while Badka is bashful. 3. Kaeloo transforms back, then says "Friends, today we’re gonna play...". 4. Mr Cat is sulking afar and says : "Oh no…". Kaeloo brings up a picture of Badka and says "With Badka!". Mr Cat gets close to her in an instant and says "Ah! Very well.". 5.Kaeloo: "Me and Badka are trying to get along better. It’s not easy, but a good game can help out." 6. Mr Cat, while putting on a black bow tie: "Absolutely." 7. Kaeloo, very seriously: "Finally, Mr Cat… You are obviously forbidden from hurting Quack Quack!" 8.Mr Chat does a vocal warm-up, then asks : "And our guest, when does he play?". 9.Badka calls out Kaeloo: "Huh?". Kaeloo answers : "We agreed I would go first. Be patient, your time will come." 10. Mr Chat, waving a flower bouquet : "I’m skipping my turn. I’m waiting for the toad." Stumpy and uQack-Quack look at him with eyes wide open. Gay flags and questions marks have been added on top of them. 11. Kaeloo’s arms become long and soft, she yells. Stumpy takes up one of her arms and shouts : "Ah ! Gross !" 12. Mr Cat : "We’re loosing time there! If we want the toad to play, we need to speed things up." He runs up to the wall and counts : "One..."13. Quack-Quack blown up to the ground, and touching the wall with his finger. Mr Cat : "Alright! The duck won. Time to bring the toad in." 14. Badka, to Kaeloo: "Hey ! It’s my time to play!". Kaeloo : "Yes, I know! It was supposed to be your turn but now is not the time !"15. Mr Cat, to the Rules : "Thinggumabob! Froggy said she would trade places with the toad. She’s not doing it! It deserves a forfeit, right ?" The Rules has a gay flag and an interrogation point on top of her. 16. Mr Cat jumps towards Badka whith his flower bouquet in his hand. Kaeloo transforms back and shouts "Red light!", and instead of touching Badka, Mr Cat crash into the wall. Kaeloo and Badka laugh. / END ID]

[Description d'image: Une série de gif de la série Kaeloo. 1. Badka criant "Bonjour les amis!". 2. Moignon, Coin-Coin et Mr Chat sont dans un canapé et se prennent la violence du cri dans la tête et crient. Mr Chat est tout content, et une fois que c’est fini il dit "Oh ouais…" pendant que Badka est tout timide. 3. Kaeloo se détransforme, puis dit "Les amis, aujourd’hui nous allons jouer…". 4. Mr Chat boude au loin et dit : "Oh non…". Kaeloo prend un panneau avec une photo de Badka dessus et dit "Avec Badka!". Mr Chat s’approche immédiatement et dit "Ah! Très bien.". 5.Kaeloo: "Nous essayons de mieux nous entendre Badka et moi. C’est pas facile, mais un bon jeu peut faciliter les choses." 6. Mr Chat, en mettant un noeud papillon noir: "Absolument." 7. Kaeloo, très sérieuse: "Enfin, Mr Chat… Il vous est évidemment interdit de faire bobo à Coin-Coin ! 8.Mr Chat vocalise, puis demande : "Et notre invité, il joue quand?". 9.Badka interpelle Kaeloo: "Huh?". Kaeloo lui répond : "On a dit que je commençais. Un peu de patience, ton tour viendra." 10. Mr Chat, brandissant un bouquet de fleurs : "Moi, je passe mon tour. J’attends le crapaud." Moignon et Coin-Coin le regardent avec des grand yeux. Des drapeaux gays et des points d’interrogation ont été rajouté au dessus de leurs têtes. 11. Les bras de Kaeloo deviennent tous longs et mous, elle crie. Moignon prend un de ses bras et crie : "Ah ! Dégueu !" 12. Mr Chat : "On perd du temps là! Si on veut que le crapaud joue, faut passer la seconde." Il se met à un mur et commence : "Un..."13. Coin-Coin explosé au sol qui touche le mur du bout du doigt. Mr Chat : "Bon ! Le canard à gagné. C’est le moment de faire rentrer le crapaud !" 14. Badka, a Kaeloo: "Hé ! A moi de jouer !". Kaeloo : "Oui, je sais ! Ça devrait être ton tour mais c’est pas le moment ! 15. Mr Chat, à la Règle : "Le bidule ! La grenouille a dit qu’elle laisserait sa place au crapaud. Elle le fait pas ! Ca vaut bien un gage ça non ?" La règle a un drapeau gay et un point d’interrogation au dessus d’elle. 16. Mr Chat s’élance vers Badka bouquet à la main. Kaeloo se transforme et crie "Soleil !", et au lieu de toucher Badka, Mr Chat s’excrase au mur. Kaeloo et Badka rigolent. / Fin de la description]

[ID: A green line divider /END ID]

[english] mr cat really said "alright this season i'm CLASSY about my crush, i will stop barking and drooling and i WILL impress him by wearing a fruity lil bow tie and bringing nice flowers just for him"

...so somehow they managed to make mr cat gayer than before??? impressive feat, kaeloo season 5 we're not even 7 minutes in and you're already so damn great 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[french] mr chat a vraiment fait "ok dans cette saison je suis CLASSE a propos de mon crush, je vais arrêter de lui aboyer et lui baver dessus et je vais l'IMPRESSIONER en portant un ptit nœud pap' et en lui apportant des jolies fleurs rien que pour lui"

...contre toute attente iels ont réussi à rendre mr chat encore plus gay qu'avant??? très impressionant, kaeloo saison 5 ça fait même pas 7 minutes que tu as commencé et tu es déjà incroyable 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

#kaeloo #kaeloo season 5 #kaeloo spoilers #mr cat #mr chat #moignon #stumpy #quack quack #coin coin #badkat #gifset #yes we're back on that sweet kaeloo posting #reminder that on this grounds we will die for badkat and kaetty #name a gayest cat than this mf 😭#on the FIRST episode of the season too????#he said i'm not loosing one more minute i will go on a date with him on the FIRST episode

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

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Love and War

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Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, smut, language Thank you @callsign-phoenix for proofreading for me

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Mourmelon- le- grand and Paris, December 1944

Bob couldn’t believe his luck when Easy Company had been given passes to Paris for some down time. They had been fighting hard and morale was low. The boys missed home, they missed their families and the death that surrounded them on a daily basis was taking its toll on everyone. Captain Nelson had approached the men at the bar on the outskirts of Mourmelon-le-grand, France where they were spending their evening relaxing after a hard day's training. It had been a relief being pulled from the front line for a while, but the training was nearly as bad as Toccoa.

A round of laughter from a table nearby drew Bob’s attention momentarily. A small smile tugged on the corners of his lips in response. It had been far too long since the men of Easy Company were surrounded by laughter, having lost their carefree attitudes. A screen of smoke filled the bar, creating a fumy and filmy haze like looking through a dirty window. Bob sat in a corner with Albert discussing the day's events whilst the cries from Private Jackson could be heard as he lost yet another game of darts to a Sergeant from Dog Company.

“The kid never learns,” Albert mumbled, taking a long swig from his beer glass, leaning back further in his chair until it was rocking on just two legs. Bob nodded in agreement, taking a drink from his own glass and allowing the weak, amber liquid to slide down his throat, bringing some ease to his nerves.

“ATTENTION!” All the men stood to attention, backs straight, hands flat to their sides.

“At ease gentlemen,” Captain Nelson spoke, his voice smooth and level. “I bring good news, you've all been granted a 4 day pass to Paris for some R and R. You've been working hard and the Colonel has decided to be generous. Now, I know that the fine men of Easy Company are always on their best behavouir,” a small smirk appeared on the Captain’s face as the room erupted with laughter. “But try to stay out of trouble, I don't want any extra paperwork. Your passes are from tomorrow so tonight enjoy yourselves boys, you've earned it.”

The room soon filled with cheers and the sound of glasses clinking together, laughter and utter joy. Bob stood quickly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, without a second glance.

“Hey, where are you going? Dont leave me with this drunken rabble,” Miller whined, watching as Bob retreated through the sea of bustling bodies, all swaying drunkenly.

“I have to write to (y/n). I'll see you later,” Bob shouted back, not bothering to turn around as he headed for the exit to the bar.

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To my darling (y/n),

How I’ve missed you, my love. Things here have been tough. We’ve lost a lot of good men and morale has been low. Albert is suffering, I think it’s finally taking its toll on him. I’ve tried to reach out to him but he’s become closed off and distant. In truth, I am worried for him. Anytime we lose someone I can’t help but think at least it wasn’t me. I fear I have become too used to the atrocities I have witnessed, I fear I am not the same man that you agreed to marry.

Nelson has managed to get Easy Company a 3-day pass to Paris, I believe he’s hoping to raise our spirits seeing the city but honestly, I think we will all be spending a lot of time in bed catching up on some much-needed rest. We are due to arrive in Paris next Wednesday and I would dearly love it if you could join me. I miss you so much my darling.

Please let me know your answer. I look forward to seeing you in the city of love, Doll.

Yours always

Bobby

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In truth, East Company had received a 4-day pass to Paris but Bob didn’t want (y/n) to arrive before he’d dragged a reluctant Albert around nearly every damn jeweller's store in the city looking for the perfect ring.

“What do you need my help for?” Albert had asked, bleary-eyed, his southern accent thick and raspy from sleep, as he propped himself up in his cot, watching Bob curiously.

“Because you’re already married and you’re good friends with (y/n),” Bob continued, not raising his eyes as he spoke and continued to pack his kit bag. Albert groaned, rolling back onto his side and bringing his pillow up to cover his head. “Go to bed, Bob,” he warned. Bob knew he was being a little forward considering he hadn’t officially asked her yet but he couldn’t help himself, his mind already racing with the thought of their future together.

Easy Company were catching the train to Paris, its carriages rocking precariously along the track as they neared the city. Bob’s leg bounced the whole way and Albert’s exasperated groans could be heard from time to time as Bob reeled off verbal diarrhoea about the scenery in an attempt to calm himself.

As the train pulled into the station there was a rush of shouting, as the wave of brown uniform-clad soldiers departed the train, pushing and shoving in the most unorthodox fashion. The streets of Paris were packed, bustling street stalls, soldiers crowded coffee shops, women dressed in flowing summer dresses, hair pinned to perfection and their lips dashed with red lipstick grinned at the men as they funnelled out of the station. Bob could hear a radio in the distance playing softly, the melodic tones of Vera Lynn filling his ears as the scene unfolded in front of him. Jackson disappeared into the crowd with some of the other paratroopers, heading to the nearest bar. Next to him, he could hear Albert talking to him, sounding far more bubbly than he had during the train journey.

“Floyd? Floyd, you with me?” Albert shook his shoulder a little, bringing Bob’s attention back to the brown-haired medic.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.”

Albert grinned, “Good, because we’ve got to find your girl a ring.”

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“Well I think it’s safe to say we’ve been to every jewellery shop in Paris,” Albert sighed, sinking onto the mattress with a sigh.

Bob didn’t reply, too busy staring down at the small diamond ring in front of him, the stone glistening in the candlelight.

“Yeah I think you’re right,” Bob replied plainly, he was barely paying attention as Albert continued to talk. The thought of (y/n) walking down the aisle wanting to spend the rest of her life with him was something Bob couldn’t even have imagined in his wildest dreams. A smile stayed firmly on his lips as he slept that night.

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(Y/n)‘s train arrived early the following morning, she’d been nervous the entire time, leg bouncing nervously. She wrung her hands together, picking worriedly at her broken nails trying to remove any remnant of the blood that seemed to stain deeper than just skin thick. There was a feeling in her gut that said, "no," but another in her heart that said, "yes." She loved Bob deeply but she feared for him, having seen so many men suffer and lose themselves to this war.

She stepped onto the platform with the rest of the passengers, her small bag held tightly in her hand as she ducked and weaved between the people and the smoke. The sun was shining brightly despite it being December, but there was a fierce chill in the air blowing her dress around the bottom of her knees as her shoes clicked on the pavements, following the crowds from the station. Once outside her face split into a grin, spotting two paratroopers staring in their dress uniform and leaning against the brick wall. Albert Miller looked the same as ever, his brown hair neatly gelled, his chin slightly stubbly and a cigarette wobbling from the edge of his mouth as he spoke. Bob on the other hand stood taller than before, his shoulders squared, not a hair out of place. He looked so very different to the Sargent you had held in your arms while he sobbed all those nights ago in the hospital. He had grown and matured much since Aldbourne and (y/n) couldn‘t help but run towards the men. Bob turned, hearing her footsteps approaching, he hurried towards her, scooping her with ease into her arms and spun her around, grinning uncontrollably. (Y/n) squealed as Bob turned around, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured as he set her down, not daring to let her go.

“I missed you too, Bobby,” (y/n) could feel tears leaking down her face as she pulled back to look at her fiancé, seeing his cheeks damp with tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bob caressed her cheek lovingly, wiping away her tears as he placed his chapped lips ever so gently against her own.

A small cough from behind them brought the lovers‘ attention to Albert, who awkwardly stood behind them, a dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks.

“I don’t mean to interrupt this touching reunion but I’m starving,” he admitted sheepishly. You broke out into a fit of laughter, pulling away from Bob and hurrying to greet Albert also.

“Well that will never do, come Albert let us find some food.”

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(Y/n) gazed down at the small diamond ring on her finger. It didn’t yet feel real that this was finally happening, she was marrying the love of her life, in the city of love, in the middle of the war. Although she’d already told Bob yes, he’d proposed again anyway.

“I want to do this properly,” he’d told her, having already sent a letter to her parents who had given their blessing and only asked for a picture of their daughter in a wedding dress in return. Bob had promised her the world and even though all she wanted was him, he’d made sure that everything was accounted for.

“I could only afford one ring but I promise as soon as we’re back in the States I’ll buy us both wedding bands to make it official,” he promised, his hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her more passionately in the privacy of their hotel room.

(Y/n’s) head suddenly shot up, the realisation of a vital piece of equipment for their wedding was missing.

“Bob, I have nothing to wear,” (y/n) exclaimed, the nervous feeling building in the pit of her stomach, churning mercilessly as she looked at Bob, desperate for him to find an answer.

“Fear not my Sweets,” Bob appeared from the other room revealing a simple but beautifully elegant white silk dress. (Y/n) grasped hold of the fabric, running her fingers of the delicate, hand sewed seam, the occasional stitch as a little longer or slightly more space than others, but you’d never be able to tell.

“How did you afford this, Bob? It’s real silk!” (Y/n) exclaimed, her eyes wide at the thought of Bob spending a fortune on a dress she would only wear once.

“Do not worry, my Love,” he placed his hands on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. “It merely cost me two packets of smokes and a huge favour owed to Albert.”

(Y/n) looked up at him, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“One of the Privates still had his reserve parachute from the jump into Holland, I traded him two packets of cigarettes for it and Albert did the rest.” Bob smiled proudly at his achievement as your face morphed into one of complete shock.

“Albert Miller sowed my wedding dress for me?”

“He sure did, Darlin’ and he’s gonna be there tomorrow to give you away should you wish him to.”

“Well how can I say no to that offer,” (y/n) beamed up at her fiancé, she didn’t think she could smile anymore, her cheeks hurting from the effort but her heart swelled.

“I love you, Sergeant Floyd.”

“I love you too, soon to be Mrs Floyd.” Bob leant down to kiss his fiancée but she pulled away, placing her hands onto his chest and pushing him towards the door.

“Now go, it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“But…” Bob went to protest, but Albert was already behind him.

“Come on lover boy, you're bunking with me tonight. I'll see you in the morning, (y/n).”

“Goodnight Albert, take good care of my boy.”

“Always,” Albert smirked, dragging a reluctant Bob down the gloomy corridor to their own room, the candlelight dancing, casting shadows of the two men as they retreated.

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Hot lips pressed a searing kiss to her neck, hands grabbing at the delicate silk fabric that adorned her body, her once neatly pinned hair was disheveled and hung loose around her shoulders.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you my love, but don’t stop,” she gasped as Bob sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin at the base of her throat.

“You’ve gotten into me, Darlin’,” he sounded amused, which irritated her slightly. She felt so needy, desperate for him to stop his incessant teasing. His ego and self-confidence was driving her mad but she couldn’t do anything about it because she wanted him just as badly. The shy and quiet private she had met in Toccoa was long gone, the Sergeant that stood in front of her was out for blood.

“Bobby, please,” she whined, pressing her hips against his crotch and eliciting a loud moan from him.

“Darlin’, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to hold back,” he warned her. She could tell he was at the end of his tether, all she had to do was push him a little further. His lips brushed over her skin below her jaw and she had to clenched her hands in fists so she wouldn’t let out a moan. Bob’s hands traveled down her body, squeezed her backside. It took everything in her not to shake under his touch. It wasn‘t like they hadn’t been in this situation before, they had plenty of times, but this time it was different, this time they were man and wife.

Bob lifted her up and set her on the desk. He positioned himself between her legs leaning closer with each second. Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust as they looked at each other. Bob let out an animalistic groan, his pupils blown, lips moist and plump from the passionate make out session they’d had in the hallway. (Y/n) swallowed audibly. She licked her lips slowly while looking directly into his deep blue eyes. Y/N slided his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Her fingers painted different shapes on his chest and abdomen, her fingers stopping once she got to the zip of his trousers.

“You aren’t gonna make me beg, are you my love?” Bob smirked, shuffling the dress up her legs and running his bare hands over her thighs. His right hand immediately went down and he gently stroked the silky fabric that was separating him from her entrance. (Y/n) squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her nails digging into the table beneath her.

“I want to hear you, darlin’. Moan for me Sweetheart.” Bob whispered against her ear, his lips moving to her neck. He placed little kisses everywhere until he stopped at one place where he sucked on her soft skin.

“God-” she breathed out and ran her hand in his hair, messing up his blond locks. Y/N felt Bob move her underwear to the side and he stroked her clit for the first time, causing her to jolt off the table.

“Stop teasing me,” she whined between her quiet moans as she leaned closer to him, head pressed into his shoulder. Bob ran his hand down her back soothingly and smiled against her skin, satisfied with himself. He began to caress her clit more frequently but not enough for her to come.

“Bob please.”

“Alright Doll, alright. I’ve got you.” Bob scooped her up into his arms, cradling her lovingly against his chest. Carrying her through to the bedroom he lay her down on the soft sheets, stroking the loose strands of hair from her face.

“I love you,” he smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, deep blue eyes so full of love.

“I love you too,” (y/n) reached out for him, pulling him in for another gentle kiss, lips brushing barley against each other. Bob pressed his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in hot breaths.

“This was the best day of my life,” he admitted, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “My beautiful wife.”

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#bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fic #Bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #ww2 au #101st airborne #ww2 fic #love and war #robert floyd x you

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ivo-oz · 7 months

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🩸🩸🩸

ℌ𝖊𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖘 : 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖊

〖chapitre 3 〗

Attention, ce texte sera peut-être modifié à l'avenir afin de le perfectionner

Dans un sursaut, mes yeux s'ouvrent dans une salle sombre au mur de pierre. Toujours à genoux, je constate que ma situation n'a nullement changé. Les mains clouées à la froideur de la pierre, le sang s'échappant lentement des plaies béantes, peignant ainsi la pierre en rouge.

C'est drôle, il m'a fallu deux jours pour ne plus y penser.

Les premiers jours se sont remplis de cris et de pleur.

Ridicule !

La futilité de cette douleur me rend tellement honteuse.

Je ne penserai pas que l'humilier devant les représentants du royaume le pousserait à me souhaiter autant de mal. J'aurais préféré garder la mobilité de mes mains. Mais bon, si c'est le prix à payer.

Les blessures que je porte en moi sont plus grandes que ses clous.

Il est vrai que c'est la première fois que je suis confronté à de tels châtiments physiques, mais j'aurais dû me réjouir.

Non, ne crie pas, ce n'est pas de la douleur.

Quelle image de moi j'aurais si je me réabandonne à cette facilité ? J'ai subi plus grave, plus longtemps.

Ce ne sont que des plaies, elles s'effaceront.

Mes vraies blessures, elles n'ont pas cicatrisé et pourtant, je les supporte. Succomber à de telles frivolités serait juste dévalorisant.

La vraie douleur n'aurait plus de sens.

Vous êtes en retard. J'en pouvais plus de lutter contre le sommeil pour m'éviter de m'ouvrir la peau davantage.

Un grincement métallique interrompit ma somnolence.

La porte est ouverte.

J'ai beau être dos à elle, je peux quand même sentir le son des talons frapper la pierre dans ma direction.

Un son grave, puis aigu, grave et encore aigu.

Une paire de bottes désassorties.

Ho, c'est Fides qui a été chargé de me libérer.

Tout en entrant dans mon champ de vision, Fides arrache les clous qui bloquaient mes mains.

J'ai . . .

Je n'ai pas crié,

j'ai pu me contenir haha,

mon sourire partit immédiatement quand je découvris les énormes trous béants que contenaient mes mains dorénavant.

On peut y voir à travers.

C'est répugnant mon dieu.

Mes mains

qu'es que . . . comment . . .

mon dieu.

—Mes excuses, Père Inhonoris a tardé à me donner les clés.

— Vous pouvez me soigner ?

— Je n'ai pas ces compétences, un médecin vous sera assigné dans deux jours.

— Vous vous moquez de moi, mes plaies vont rester ouvertes pendant cinq jours en tout. Je ne pourrai plus jamais écrire.

Un ange passe.

— Vous m'envoyez navrer, mademoiselle.

— Navrée ‽ Vraiment ‽ Ôte-moi ce mot de ta bouche quand tu me parles ! Mais quel genre de soutien hypocrite, tu penses me faire avaler ! Ça ne sert à rien de me mentir si mon état ne t'inspire que de l'indifférence !

Le souvenir de mes mains perforées aurait presque pu être oublié si mon sang ne s'était pas mis à accélérer dans mes veines.

Mon cœur hurle dans ma tête, m'obligeant à me taire.

— Pardonnez-moi Je m'exécute.

—Avez-vous du temps à m'accorder ?

J'aurais besoin de coudre mes plaies.

Bien sûr, je ne voudrais pas abuser de votre gentillesse.

Vous pouvez déléguer le travail à un de vos collègues si c'est trop demandé. J'espère que je n'ai pas manqué de politesse, vous savez, trois jours sans pouvoir pleinement dormir me font perdre pas mal de notions.

Comme la clémence par exemple.

Je sens l'air frais de la pièce effleurer les cavités de mes mains. Le sang a arrêté de couler et fait maintenant place au vertige et à la fatigue.

Toute pressée, elle s'engouffre dans l'ouverture de la porte.

Elle ne m'aide même pas à monter...

Haha, elle doit avoir peur de demander . . .

Haaaa, j'en avais besoin tout de même.

3 minutes plus tard, Fides accourut pour m'éviter un malaise sur les marches et se mit à m'aider à atteindre ma chambre.

Ho, le temps, et puis qu'est-ce que c'est au final ?

Que le soleil finisse couché une fois la fin des escaliers atteint. Alors ainsi soit-il

— N'ayez crainte, nous serons bientôt à vos appartements.

Hum

Mes yeux balaient le sol et les murs comme un pendule oscillant entre le conscient et l'inconscient. Un pendule se stoppant net lorsqu'une certaine odeur lui parvient.

Odeur de café . . . de miel.

Cela me sortit de mon vertige.

11h

— Que faites-vous ? Votre chambre se situe dans le couloir gauche.

Il est 11 heures, grand-père doit être dans son bureau.

— Ne me crois pas si bête. Je vais simplement dire bonjour à Papi.

— Vous entendez vous, c'est lui qui vous a châtié. Ne l'humiliez pas davantage, il risquerait de vous bannir.

— Tu n'es pas convaincante, cesse de mentir, bon sang.

Boitant en direction de la porte, je finis ma route en m'affalant sur la poignée de la porte.

Haha, tant pis pour la surprise.

L'iris de ses yeux dilaté, la rigidité qu'adopte son corps. Toute cette attention pour moi. Il s'efforce d'être calme et ça m'est tellement jouissif.

Je pousse la porte en m'aidant difficilement de mon épaule, mes mains étant inutilisables.

Grand-père est juste derrière.

L'encadré de la porte dévoile progressivement son visage et les émotions qui le parcourent quand il découvre le mien.

Finalement, je ne sais que dire, mon esprit m'échappe, des idées, des bribes me viennent, mais les paroles demeurent insaisissables.

Pourquoi est-il aussi surpris ? Pensait-il me soumettre ?

Tu ne me connais pas assez.

Que pense-t-il de moi ? Que penserait Inhonoris Cornecuus ?

Toute sa vie et son existence ont servi à bâtir cet empire, à se hisser au rang de roi. Être à son niveau est la seule motivation qui me pousse à me faire violence dans mes études.

Enfin, avec les blessures, ça va être plus compliqué.

En marchant ou plutôt vacillant vers lui, le sang pulsant dans mes mains m'empêche de continuer.

Aucun de mes muscles actifs ne m'épargne de douleur.

Je lève faiblement ma main et avec un grand sourire, le plus beau que je puisse faire, je le salue avant qu'un voile noir ne mette fin à mon geste.

SUITE (un jour . . . ) PRECEDENT

#hèebes #licorne #unicorn #my ocs #my storys #ℌ𝖊𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖘 : 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖊 #Hèebes : Genése #Heebes : Genese

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fritextramole · 6 months

Text

Could you love this?

part 4 of a Blair Waldorf playlist - best heard in order

tracklist and quotes under the cut

Coin de rue ~ Juliette Gréco

Je me souviens d'un triste soir Où le cœur sans espoir ~ I remember a sad evening When my heart despaired

It’s Nice To Have A Friend ~ Taylor Swift

Something gave you the nerve To touch my hand It’s nice to have a friend

Needle In A Haystack ~ The Velvelettes

Still water sometimes runs very deep You'll be sorry when you just jump

Ready Now ~ dodie

Oh, it suits me To feel strong You said, "I will listen Tell me it all You don't like the ending Then we'll find one that's yours"

Autumn In New York ~ Jo Stafford

You'll need no castles in Spain Yes, lovers that bless the dark On the benches in central park Greet autumn in New York

You Can’t Hurry Love ~ The Supremes

You gotta trust, give it time No matter how long it takes But how many heartaches must I stand Before I find a love to let me live again

The Gentleman Is A Dope ~ BLOSSOM DEARIE

He's somebody else's problem She's welcome to the guy! She'll never understand him Half as well as I

You’d Be So Nice To Come Home To ~ Helen Merrill

Under stars chilled by the winter Under an August moon burning above You'd be so nice, you'd be paradise To come home to and love

I'm Not In Love ~ Kelsey Lu

I keep your picture up on the wall It hides a nasty stain that's lying there So don't you ask me to give it back I know you know it doesn't mean that much to me

ivy ~ Taylor Swift

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

distance ~ Christina Perri

I'll give you everything I am All my broken heartbeats Until I know you'll understand

Stupid Cupid ~ Connie Francis

I'm in love and it's a crying shame And I know that you're the one to blame

Sixteen Reasons ~ Connie Stevens

the way you comb your hair (Six) your freckled nose (Seven) the way you say you care (Eight) your crazy clothes

I’m Not Calling You A Liar ~ Florence + The Machine

There's a ghost in my mouth And it talks in my sleep Wraps itself around my tongue

Andante, Andante ~ Lily James

Let your body be the velvet of the night Touch my soul, you know how Andante, Andante Go slowly with me now

Moodswings (To Come At Me Like That) ~ Charlotte Church

You just want to see, see the other side of me

long story short ~ Taylor Swift

No more tug of war now I just know there's more

Jackie Onassis ~ ELIO

We can go to dinner in Paris and spend our advances Who cares about money and finances? I'll keep taking antidepressants and count my blessings I've learnt my lesson

You’ve Got What Gets Me ~ Ella Fitzgerald

But when you smile on me I get prouder and prouder My heart goes on a spree Beating louder and louder

pov ~ Ariana Grande

How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride I wanna love me The way that you love me

Sick of Losing Soulmates ~ dodie

God knows where I would be if you hadn't found me Sitting all alone in the dark

Crépuscule ~ Cœur De Pirate

À vif, nos vies, ne laissaient que nos cris Au loin, crédules, nos peaux au crépuscule Et pourtant, j'espère encore Que l'enfant que j'étais Retrouve enfin, une parcelle de paix ~ Raw, our lives, left only our cries In the distance, gullible, our skins at dusk And yet, I still hope That the child that I was Finally found a piece of peace

cardigan ~ Taylor Swift

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young

There’ll Be Some Changes Made ~ Peggy Lee

My walk will be different, my talk and my name Nothin' about me is gonna be the same

Our Lips Are Sealed ~ The Go-Go’s

When you look at them Look right through them That's when they'll disappear That's when we'll be feared

Bags ~ Clairo

Savor this with everything I have inside of me I'm not the type to run, I know that we're having fun But what's the rush? Kissing, then my cheeks are so flushed

Le Printemps A Paris ~ Jacqueline Taieb

Entre tes doigts Qu’il est joli, cet accord J’aime ta voix Chante donc un peu plus fort ~ Between your fingers That is pretty this chord I love your voice Sing a little louder

My Baby Just Cares for Me ~ Nina Simone

Baby, my baby don't care for shows And he don't even care for clothes He cares for me

Love Is Here To Stay ~ BLOSSOM DEARIE

Together we're going a long, long way In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble They're only made of clay But our love is here to stay

If I’m Being Honest ~ dodie

All of my best bits pulled forward, collected, displayed Sadly, I just think that I was disgusting today You blew me up like a big balloon far too soon I'm left a stuttering teen

arms ~ Christina Perri

How many times will let you me change my mind and turn around I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown I hope that you see right through my walls I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

Il Est Parti Comme Il Etait Venu ~ Zouzou

Il a fui sans savoir où aller Tout simplement pour oublier Que sa vie s'est juste un peu brisée ~ He walked away without knowing where to go In order to forget That his life has just been a little bit broken

Nicest Thing ~ Kate Nash

I wish I was your favorite girl I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world I wish my smile was your favorite kind of smile I wish the way that I dressed was your favorite kind of style

Perfect ~ Selena Gomez

How does she touch you? Can I try it, too? I know you're twisted, but baby, I'm twisted, too I wanna know how she could make a man lose his mind

Sorry ~ Halsey

Don't realize how mean I can be 'Cause I can sometimes treat the people That I love like jewelry

#gg #ggplaylists #blair waldorf #gossip girl #source: senamarais

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siphonophorus · 1 year

Note

2, 17, 23, 35 and 41!

BG3 Act 1 Asks

this is sooo long but thank you so much for the ask!! i had a blast as you see >:)c

a jae song to listen to while reading! :D

2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing.

plenty of stuff, actually! a quick list (and then summary) would be jae'ku'sureth's (or VENA CAVA's) eyes, thick brows, cheekbones, and sharper jawline, and a more curvaceous body type than the game currently offers for body type 1.

starting with the eyes, due to her poor sleeping habits, mental breakdowns that include crying, and severe eye strain, jae'ku'sureth's eyes often appear red or irritated at times. she averages about ~4-6 hours of sleep, evading her duties as g'lathk-varsh in preference of obsessing over necromancy and "creating an immortal, invincible army for vlaakith" so that she may be recognized. instead of sleeping, she peers over tir'su slates and githyanki medallions containing astral knowledge - and spends over half of her days carrying out unapproved or unsanctioned medical experiments. other times, she has mental breakdowns due to the constant pressure and fear of her kin - despite her paradoxical love for her creche and people. (other times, their eyes may appear pure red should ocular trauma or sudden bleeding occur.)

as for her face - due to where i grew up, i imagine jae'ku'sureth has more prominent cheekbones than what's in the game, as well as thicker lips/bigger mouth. same goes for thicker brows. i know some people in my reservation have these features - though i know a lot of people also pluck them. mainly my inspo for jae's face derives from a few of the wide variety of anishinaabe features but also historical oji-cree/ojibwe women whom i look up to greatly.

(feat bonus painting you did of jae)

finally, for their body - i imagine jae'ku'sureth is taller than other body type 1 gith, but also has a more pronounced chest and hips, yet their skin and physique lends themself more to a ballerina, spindly type build.

this is mainly due to the fact that when they spellcast or maintain concentration spells, they dance - not because the dancing is a physical or material component, but rather its an instinctive action she thinks will make her spellcasting better. almost like a placebo. imagine leaning when you steer a corner in a racing game - it's like that, but magic. ballet's been a long interest of mine, as well as figure skating - so i borrowed from performances. since i dont have many characters with jae's body type either, i thought it would've been gnc to give it to the character whose gith-variant who has a beard like gandalf

17. What does your Character think of Withers?

due to jae'ku'sureth's grand ideations of necromancy, and the belief that THEY will be the one to grant everlasting-life to githyanki, they adore withers and necromancy - to an unhealthy extent. jae'ku'sureth has a one-sided comfort and over-familiarity with withers, opening up to him far more quickly than they do with the other companions or tav. withers recognizes this - but also recognizes them as an adult woman. jae'ku'sureth does not revere necromancy, they dont revel or worship it like some filthy ekor - they recognize the simpering moulding blood and oxidation its held for githyanki and gith - who remains missing! the tenants it filthily dangles over their own weak and their kins' heads tauntingly - reminding them to achieve greater and greater accomplishments! the tether between breathing and bleeding- the reminder of the eternal despite the sharp pangs in your gut and your scratched throat from cries of pain! withers worshipped a god, but like... "mortals!" she'll work alongside him instead - collaboration rather than equipping man like tool like ekor-k'ya disrespectfully do! .... are they getting off-topic? tk! let that be her answer, then. that is her relationship to withers.

23. What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor?

(CW for discussions of colonialism and harassment)

since i consider jae'ku'sureth a companion/origin character rather than a tadpoled adventurer, i think they have a dream "lover" as was patched out of EA rather than a dream visitor in full release. as the emperor connects to her mind through the githyanki artefact, and sees jae'ku'sureth's memories of olytin aleantar, it initially mistakes jae'ku'sureth's apprehension and ignored unease of olytin as romantic feelings and attraction. this is also due to olytin's unrequited feelings of attraction to jae'ku'sureth, that jae'ku'sureth subconsciously chooses to ignore.

at first, jae'ku'sureth thinks little to nothing of olytin - an emmissary of eilistraee who one day showed up to her creche, seeking an alliance. working with kith'raks and knights of creche mir'ha'r'tal and offering her skills as an assassin and warrior - alongside poached jewels from olytin's sect of eilistraee. at some point, olytin approached jae'ku'sureth, seeking to get to know the woman better. jae'ku'sureth was scared of strangers at best and aggressive at worst, but olytin proved time and time again to be harmless. utilizing mir'ha'r'tal's "a favour for a favour" political relations, jae'ku'sureth instantly struck up a deal with olytin. olytin can spend time with jae'ku'sureth and have unimpeded access to her pop-up laboratories, and in exchange, jae'ku'sureth gets to dissect her and experiment on olytin's body for their own grand design.

on the surface, everything seemed alright - or, that olytin got the short end of the stick. but jae'ku'sureth's blind trust in olytin was the wrong move. despite the back of jae'ku'sureth's mind picking up on all the red flags olytin showed towards her - incessent attempts to talk late into the hours of the night, showing up outside one of mir'ha'r'tal's many hatcheries where jae'ku'sureth was placed, jae'ku'sureth waking up to finding olytin next to her or watching her sleep, or even olytin wanting to hold their hand against jae'ku'sureth's own wishes - jae'ku'sureth chose to ""underestimate"" olytin. ...or rather, jae'ku'sureth decided to take the chance to trust this stranger in her community for hopes of a mutually beneficial relationship. a mutually beneficial relationship, that'd see creating invincibility and undying for her kin - in hopes that they'd finally recognize and respect her, that she won't be hurt or struggling anymore. olytin left an uneasy feeling in the back of jae'ku'sureth's mind. oftentimes she wished she would leave - but this all came to the surface once the campaign started and jae'ku'sureth began having dreams in earnest of olytin's romantic intent - and she recognized it as malicious. rightfully so, because olytin is revealed to be a cultist of bane. adhering to the depraved and amoral - in every sense of the word. seeking to take mir'ha'r'tal's resources and "correct" the gith living there. there - she found jae'ku'sureth. one who made her smile. and she didn't like that. an obsession, love-hate developed. and olytin begun to hunt down jae'ku'sureth, leading the former to become an avatar of bane. it didnt help that during all of this, jae'ku'sureth's stomach pains were revealed to be from a rather haunting memory - a third party vivisecting and experimenting on her - where she didn't believe she was touchable. it was by a group of mindflayers initially, but the psionic interference of generations under their regime made jae misremember - that it was olytin who opened up her stomach. of course, olytin anticipated a struggle. her true feelings and intentions came out, the red flags became banners - and jae'ku'sureth hated every single moment of it. neutrality or dismissal turned into feelings of ever-burning hatred and disgust, and jae'ku'sureth decided: she'd kill olytin, in contrast to the latter's vacillation of wanting jae dead and alive. at this point, it no longer about avoidance - but rather jae'ku'sureth's own decision. eventually, jae'ku'sureth confronts the emperor about olytin - and demands it expel thoughts of her from their mind. thankfully, it obliges, and they form an alliance for the short while.

i mentioned before that olytin came to mir'ha'r'tal as an emissary. she is intended to be a metaphor of colonialism and colonization in canada. the church coming in - intentions as malicious as ever. olytin is conventionally attractive, highly charismatic. almost disarming at times.

35. Has your Character done anything that they regret in Act 1?

jae'ku'sureth has nothing she regrets in act 1. what she knows she has done her best to achieve - and if anything needs to be rectified, it can be rectified immediately in the present and in the near future. this mindset is what kept jae'ku'sureth alive in mir'ha'r'tal-tu'narath, and the brutal efficiency of it allows her to dominate the fast-paced world of toril, despite her unseeming and hermit-ish nature. though, if something to regret is their unapologetic nature and seeming disregard, then they'll apologize again and again. she'll be earnest every time.

her mind - it moves fast.

41. Is your Character accustomed to being on the road from before the events of the adventure?

no. and she NEVER will be. nor do they want to be.

following their rite of passage into gith society and presenting the ghaik head to vlaakith CVLII, jae'ku'sureth was placed into the lowest caste of gith society - g'lathk, the farmers' caste. what they were trained for. even more humiliatingly, jae'ku'sureth was to be a varsh. teaching children the most basic of skills because those were the only things she were the most proficient in. her placements were due to an unfortunate fact - that jae'ku'sureth was no warrior. she couldn't hold a sword the same way her kin could, and she couldnt work or be bothered with blueprints the way the other yank training to be mlar could. in fact, jae'ku'sureth slacked off in whatever training she could get away with - and showed a lack of engagement or devotion. preferring to idle away the hours in her own interests and beliefs. she would've - and should've - been culled. in fact, this was attempted against her time and time again, by her varshes, her fellow yank, and again by her kin as an adult. but one thing jae'ku'sureth had - was her wits, and her 'street smarts' as istik called it. she proved time and time again, harder and harder to kill, as because before anyone could raise a blade, a boot, or a magic missile against her, she memorized all of the mandates of vlaakith, the ones of the past, and that of gith herself. killing her would be a sin, she'd say, time and time again. and fortunately, due to creche mir'ha'r'tal's mob mentality and dedication to their queen - they'd always fear her mandated words, and side with jae'ku'sureth.

a battle of words, a battle of law. this weak, non-warrior could not die. she would neglect her charges, chasing flights of fancy, she would demean other varshes, githwarriors, and instead culled her own kin. she refused to hold a sword and used the dirtiest tricks in the books. but she could never, ever, seem to die. of course, this didn't stop jae'ku'sureth from getting jumped. it was why she was so aggressive and scared.

because of her slacking off, and the bullying, emotional neglect and abuse she faced from kin both in infancy, childhood, and adulthood, jae'ku'sureth detested working. she was barely seen by other varshes, and when she was, she seemed lazy. she hated growing the mushrooms and meat her kin subsided off, and she was infamous for being a bad cook with poor work ethic - yet snapping at anyone and nearly killing anyone through her wielding of the mandates who hurled an insult. their skin was uncalloused and soft, undesirable by others due to it showing her lack of hard work that their kin so often praised. they bore no scars, because instead of showing a warriors mettle they instead healed away any wound. they grew sore easily, couldnt jump far, lugged a greatsword compared to others - and this detestation of struggle would never leave jae'ku'sureth unless it was something she felt safe and happy around. and the road wasn't one of them.

through their escapism and idiosyncrasy, jae'ku'sureth developed an appreciation for the luxury and relaxations in life unbefitting and unlike her kin. instead, jae'ku'sureth ADORES lounging around in camp - and if you walk with her, she'll complain about sore feet 40 minutes in. or the rock in her shoe. or the bugs. the mud, even. and dont even ask her to lug above her carry weight. she's nothing but a weak g'lathk! she can't carry as much as a strong githwarr- oh, you think she's worth more than those dismissive words...? 😳 ...okay. she'll be upfront then, carry it yourself!

and hey, if you made it this far down this long ass post and you like what you see - take a look at jae'ku'sureth's playlist

#bg3 #jae'ku'sureth

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sinvulkt · 1 month

Text

Find the english version here.

Nemo arracha le fusil des mains du naufragé hébété et tira. Une fois, deux fois. Les balles ricochèrent sur la peau du monstre, sans lui faire le moindre mal. L’anguille secoua la tête comme pour se débarrasser d’un fourmillement désagréable, puis se précipita sur le naufragé que Nemo venait de désarmer. L’homme n’eut pas le temps de pousser un seul cri qu’il avait disparu dans la gorge de la créature.

Nemo recula d’un pas, le cœur battant à tout rompre. Blaster et Humility devaient s’approcher de la plage maintenant, sans avoir remarqué qu’il s’était arrêté pour distraire le monstre. Bientôt, ils auraient atteint le navire et Nemo pourrait courir à son tour, ou l’anguille serait morte. Il rengagea son fusil.

Un œil vicieux et rempli de haine le fixait, le défiant de lui tirer dessus. Nemo l’obligea.

Le coup parti, touchant la créature sur la peau tendre près de la paupière. Le monstre se tordit de douleur. Les arbres tressaillirent sous la puissance des coups, semblables à un tremblement de terre. Le sol semblait se dérober sous chacun des pas de Nemo, le faisant trébucher alors qu’il tentait de s’éloigner du son assourdissant. Un bourdonnement continu emplit ses oreilles.

Il n’eut pas le temps de reprendre son équilibre que, folle de rage, l’anguille ouvrit grand la gueule et se jeta sur lui. Le talon de Nemo se coinça dans les racines d’un arbre, et son fusil partit valser dans la nature. Un souffle chaud caressa son visage, fétide rappel que le monstre se rapprochait. Les secondes s’écoulèrent lentes et rapides à la fois tandis que Nemo s'acharnait en vain à déloger son pied. Il se rendit finalement à l’évidence : il ne pourrait pas esquiver.

Utilisant son seul recours, il leva le pistolet qu’il avait gardé à sa taille et tira de nouveau. Et encore. Et encore. Sans effet. La gueule restait grande ouverte, tel un inarrêtable gouffre béant, quelque soit les coups qui la perçait. Il rechargea. Déjà le monstre se tenait à moins d’un mètre, le piège de ses mâchoires masquant la lumière du soleil. Puis, juste comme Nemo tira la dernière balle droit dans l’œsophage se précipitant sur lui, la créature fut parcouru d’une convulsion.

Les mâchoires aiguisées de dents longues comme son avant bras se refermèrent autour de lui, le plongeant dans une pénombre totale. Nemo cligna des yeux, s’attendant à ce qu'à tout moment la gueule se referme, le broyant sous ses crocs ou l’étouffant dans l'acide gastrique. Mais, contre toute attente, le silence continua, pas même brisé par une respiration sifflante ou le flux et reflux de l’haleine fétide qui l’entourait.

Le monstre était mort.

Nemo essaya de soulever l’une des dents. La mâchoire était lourde et, profondément enfoncée dans le sol, elle ne bougea pas. Nemo se gaina. Ses pieds s'écartèrent, son bassin se baissa, ses muscles se tendirent et, d’un effort surhumain, il poussa. Un rayon de lumière récompensa ses efforts puis la gueule retomba, lourdement, l'entraînant avec lui. Nemo s’étrangla sur la poussière et l’atmosphère putride de la gueule. Les souvenirs de sa cellule à Kalpani lui chattouillèrent l’esprit. Pour chaque seconde qu’il passait dans ce piège cadavreux, il lui semblait devenir un peu plus claustrophobe. Porté par l’énergie du désespoir, il reprit ses efforts pour soulever la dent. Cette fois, la mâchoire s'entrouvrit, laissant une profonde traînée dans le sable. C’était juste assez pour que Nemo rampe au dehors, ce dont il ne se fit pas prier.

Il commençait à peine à se dégager quand il remarqua que la chair du museau était restée collée à ses doigts. Il secoua ses mains, en vain. Le museau tout entier y semblait accroché. Nemo tira de toutes ses forces, sans plus de résultat. Une pointe d'inquiétude crispa ses traits. Il appuya son pied contre la mâchoire pour plus d'appui et, lâchant un juron, tira au point de se déboîter l’épaule. La peau du monstre s’allongea comme un vieil élastique, déformant la tête triangulaire de l’anguille, mais elle resta obstinément accrochée. Aussitôt qu'il s'arrêta, pantelant et exténué, son bras s'enfonça avec un bruit répugnant dans la peau de la créature jusqu'au coude.

Sa main le brûlait. Nemo serra les dents contre la vague de douleur qui lui remontait le poignet. Il avait l’impression que le membre était plongé dans l’acide. Au vu du caractère surnaturel de la créature qui le coinçait, qui sait si ce n’était pas le cas. Nemo fixa la masse de chair grouillante qui s'étendait sur son bras. D’ici quelques minutes, elle aurait atteint l’épaule.

Son cœur se durcit. Il porta la main à sa ceinture et en tira son poignard, puis fourra le bas de sa chemise dans sa bouche. La lame, parfaitement aiguisée, entama la chair sans mal. Elle ne tarda pas à atteindre un nerf, lui arrachant un cri étouffé. Nemo serrait les dents si fort que sans la chemise suintant la sueur qu’il avait glissé entre ses mâchoires, il se serait déjà coupé la langue.

Un soudain pic de douleur au niveau de son pied l'arrêta dans son agonisante besogne et lui fit baisser les yeux. Le pied qu’il avait posé sur une des dents de la créature pour y prendre appui n’était plus posé, mais encastré. Une secousse de la cheville lui confirma ce qu'il craignait. Une goutte de sueur coula sur son front. Son pied était autant collé que son bras, comme si l’ivoir avait fondu autour de sa chaussure, et que cette dernière s'y enfonçait doucement. Déjà, une brûlure semblable à celle qui lui dévorait le poignet enflammait sa jambe.

Il ne pouvait plus sentir ni ses doigts, ni ses orteils.

Le poignard glissa mollement de sa main libre. Nemo fixait béatement ses membres se faire dévorer, avec l’impression de regarder la mort en face. Puis, pris d’une soudaine fureur fiévreuse, il se baissa pour récupérer sa lame, et ré-attaqua son épaule. Nemo ne craignait pas la mort. La plupart des gens qu’il avait aimé l'attendaient là, dans l’après vie, et mourir ne serait que les rejoindre. Mais si Nemo ne craignait pas la faucheuse, il ne se livrerait pas sans combat à elle pour autant; pas tant que la Compagnie existait impunément et que sa famille restait invengée.

C’était trop tard, bien trop tard. Nemo avait à peine entamé l’os que la masse grouillante recouvrait son poignard, puis son autre main. Que la chair étrange s’emparait de son entrejambe, son bassin, son torse. Que l’espèce de mousse rosâtre grimpait le long de son cou, puis de son visage, lui coupant la respiration. Nemo était immobile, paralysé dans cette prison organique qui semblait le digérer vivant.

La substance remonta contre ses yeux, le priva un à un du goût, de l’odorat, de la vue, de l'ouïe, du toucher. Tout n’était que brulure fourmillante et âcre, si étendue qu’il était incapable de dire si la sensation était réel, ou un écho de souvenir s’accaparant de son imagination. Nemo était totalement incapable de distinguer où se terminait son propre corps et où commençait la masse grouillante qui l'entourait. Il n’eut pas à s'en soucier bien longtemps. Après un ultime sursaut de conscience, le néant l'enveloppa.

------

Nemo se réveilla, la vue troublée.

Son esprit tournait au ralenti. Il se tenait à cette frontière entre éveil et sommeil, où l’on se souvient encore du surnaturel des songes et où on ne questionne pas l’absurdité de la réalité. Il lui semblait vaguement être mort, dévoré par le cadavre d’un gigantesque reptile, mais l’idée semblait si saugrenue qu’il lui était difficile de croire que tout cela était un souvenir, et non pas l’effet de quelques plantes hallucinogènes de l'île.

Il essaya de battre des paupières pour éclaircir sa vision, mais aucun muscle ne lui répondit. Son corps, lourd et engourdit, répondait par tressaillement. Nemo avait l’impression d’avoir les bras et les jambes coincés dans un immense sac, et il peinait à se mouvoir. Il parvint tout de même à tourner la tête. Une forme blanche et brillante ressemblant fort à un minuscule squelette humain se refléta dans ses pupilles.

Une sensation de picotement attira son attention. Nemo huma l’air salin, regrettant que le soleil soit si fort et qu’aucune paupière ne vienne protéger ses yeux. Il était parcouru de l’étrange certitude que les picotements correspondaient aux membres de son équipage, et que ces derniers avaient atteint la bordure de la mer.

Son corps se mouva entre les arbres humides, l’instinct le guidant dans ses contorsions. Il ne questionna pas la taille étrangement réduite de la végétation, ou la sensation ténue de la terre qui craquait et glissait sous sa peau, ni ce nouveau picotement qui le guidait. L’attention embrumée du sommeil de Nemo était focalisée sur l’idée de retrouver sa cabine sur le Nautilus, et d’en finir avec cette île maudite.

Il atteint la plage et s'arrêta, perdu. Les picotements avaient cessé. Après un instant de recherche, il arriva à distinguer un point flou qui se déplaçait sur l’eau : une barque. Nemo ouvrit la bouche pour les appeler, mais seul un vrombissement grave en sortit. Quelques instants plus tard, des voix criardes et distordues surgirent de la barque, frappant ses tympans. Voyant que le point flou ne s’approchait pas, et, qu’au contraire, il s’éloignait de plus en plus vite, Nemo s’élança dans les vagues.

L’eau glissa délicieusement le long de son corps. Elle l’acceuillit comme on accueille un vieil ami, s’écoulant sans effort le long de son coup, de son torse, de sa queue. Elle remplit ses branchies, chassant l’air qui s’y était douloureusement coincé, et Nemo eut la sensation de respirer pour la première fois.

La confusion se mêla à l’effroi. Nemo n’avait pas de queue, il avait des jambes. Il n’avait pas de branchies, il avait des poumons. Et il n’avait jamais, au grand jamais, nagé aussi vite.

Une décharge cent fois plus forte que les picotements qui l’avaient guidée plus tôt déferla sur son cerveau. C’était comme si une lanterne de la forme du Nautilus était apparue devant ses yeux, l’appelant comme la torche attire l’insecte. Nemo se précipita sur la zone ressemblant au pont, espérant trouver l’écoutille. Il y trouva un cri d’effroi. La naufragée qui les avait aidés un peu plus tôt affichait une expression de terreur en le regardant.

La confusion l’empli de nouveau.

C’est moi, Nemo !

Un grondement fut le seul son qui s'échappa de sa gorge. La naufragée se carapata et disparut à l’intérieur du vaisseau. Peu de temps après, le son familier des moteurs du Nautilus remplit ses oreilles.

Un pincement désespéré lui tordit le cœur. Ils allaient partir sans lui.

Le nautilus est à moi !

Son corps réagit de lui-même. Avant qu’il ne le réalise, Nemo s'était enroulé fermement autour du Nautilus, son long corps sinueux . Il lui vint à l’esprit que si le Nautilus était si petit, et lui si grand, jamais il ne pourrait passer par l’écoutille. Et pourtant il pouvait se voir sans mal tendre les bras, faire tourner la roue qui scellait la porte, puis se glisser à l’intérieur de l’échelle qui le mènerait à son navire.

Sa tête se colla à la baie vitrée qui constituait le devant du sous-marin. Plusieurs taches de couleurs le fixaient, sans bouger.

Je suis votre capitaine !

L’un d’entre eux s’activa soudainement, se précipitant vers la zone contenant les balais de commande. Le bouclier se mit en mouvement avec un crissement effroyable qui vrillait les tympans. Nemo s'écarta du son horrible d’un coup sec, permettant ainsi au bouclier de se refermer. Il fixa le métal un instant, choqué de l’impudence de son équipage, sa queue toujours possessivement enroulée autour du reste du navire.

C’est alors qu’il remarqua le reflet qui s’affichait dans la surface polie. La créature qui le dévisageait n’avait ni cheveux, ni barbe, ni oreilles. Elle n’avait pas de bras ou de jambes, juste un long cou sinueux couvert d’écailles qui se perdait dans l'océan. C’était la tête triangulaire d’un monstre sans visage, semblable à celui qu’il avait abattu un peu plus tôt.

Des années plus tôt, durant ses longs mois d’emprisonnement à Kalpani, il avait déposer son nom auprès de la tombe immatérielle de sa femme et sa fille, et s’en était choisit un nouveau. Un nom qui le séparait de l’agonie du passé. Un nom qui promettait de consacrer sa vie à son vœu de vengeance.

Nemo…

Le nom latin dont il avait été si fier lui semblait ironique désormais. Après tout, qui prendrait le temps de considérer la nature humaine d’un monstre marin ? Désormais, aux yeux du monde, il était réellement “Nemo”.

Personne.

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orageusealizarine · 1 year

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Il a peut-être bien raison, Cioran, on se tue toujours trop tard, ç'aurait été extraordinaire, toutes ces années passées dans la sérénité la plus totale, oui, ç'aurait été grand, fabuleux, le paradis et j'ai comme la nostalgie de ces années ratées qu'il aurait fallu ne pas vivre, regret immense de tous ces jours manqués à ma mort, des jours perdus à tourner en rond sans trop savoir, et pourtant le bonheur était là, juste là, mais, par je ne sais quelle idiotie, une sorte d'espoir vil, pas de la lâcheté, non, et c'en est presque du cynisme (si tu savais), la conviction absurde que la vie quelque part, mais la vie n'est nulle part, et on le sait, la vie n'est que dans la tombe, et tous les jours, c'était tellement déconcertant, cette même gesticulation insensée, des grimaces de singe, des déclamations comme au théâtre, et pourtant ça c'était la réalité (ce qu'ils appelaient réalité), mais les gens comme moi, tous ces jours gâtés, on aurait pu tellement, mettre le point final, c'était comme un soleil de plomb sauf que la nuit jamais, et les cris, ah oui, les cris, un amas d'immondices à l'intérieur et moi j'avais la nausée, la nausée, la nausée mais personne, oui, il avait sans doute raison, il aurait mieux valu, les ciels ne crevaient jamais, c'était trop tard, cette langueur impudique parce qu'on n'avait pas pu, une journée au milieu des épaves.

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epopoiia-leblog · 2 months

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Une question inattendue

Il était une fois une question inattendue. L’assise est dure sous son fessier, le métal brûlant, rongé par le soleil. Restes de mégots et boissons à moitié terminée, la table est poisseuse, le serveur ne l’a pas encore débarrassée. Le monde grouille, violent sous la canicule et l’émoi estival. Un brouhaha incessant, des cris aigus d’enfants, beaucoup trop forts pour ses tympans. À côté d’elle, une petite fille lit un livre. Imperturbable, les gamins tout autour continuent de crier et les pigeons grignotent de vieilles miettes à ses pieds. La dernière page se tourne, elle ferme sa BD et puis voilà qu’elle lui demande, tout naturellement : Et toi alors, pourquoi t’as toujours pas d’enfant ?Le serveur arrive enfin avec les sodas. Un intermède apprécié pour sa tête qui tourne et son esprit en désarroi. Elle laisse couler la boisson au fond de son palais, bien trop tiède pour rafraîchir ses idées. Elle grimace. La petite la regarde. Ses grands yeux noirs attendent une réponse sous ses cils aussi longs que des ailes de papillon. Elle se racle la gorge. Finalement, entre la réalité, ses doutes et ses regrets, elle lui renvoie la balle, un coup de revers et la partie est relancée. Et toi, dis-moi, pourquoi t’as toujours pas d’enfant ? Elle se croit beaucoup trop maligne, la petite fille ne se laisse pas prendre à son jeu. Des épaules qui se haussent, elle lui répond tout simplement : bah, parce que j’en n’ai pas envie et puis je suis encore beaucoup trop petite moi. Elle lui sourit, se retient de rire. Et bien voilà, tu as ta réponse ! Moi, c'est tout pareil comme toi ! La petite fille la toise à nouveau, elle reprend une gorgée de coca, elle n’a pas dit son dernier mot. Puisque toi et moi sommes encore si petites, on peut peut-être alors encore aller faire un dernier tour de manège ?

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atlanticmiddleisland · 2 months

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Carta al pasado

Dirijo esta carta a ti, que eres yo, al chico que era el día 7 de Febrero del año 2017.

Te escribo esta carta desde otra vida, desde otro mundo, desde la vía en la que la vida te separó de a quien hoy conoces por primera vez.

Llegará Cris o llegarás tú a ella, y cuando le cuentes el interés que tienes en sus textos, ella compartirá contigo las letras que sangró cuando recordaba, préstale atención, leelo con calma, ese texto que fue un final para ella es ahora un inicio para vosotros.

Te escribo esto porque te he visto, porque estoy ahí contigo tras 10mil mensajes, cientos de noches de ilusiones y dos vidas que fueron una, porque he rebobinado el tiempo y pude entender porqué a pesar de que el tiempo nos dio forma, no pudo rompernos.

Quiero que la cuides, que la hagas tuya, que cada palabra que ella te dirija que destile ilusión, sea para ti un tesoro, que entiendas que la vida a menudo pasa sin ofrecernos esto, que has sido y soy, que será siempre un hombre afortunado, que ella será siempre nuestra suerte.

Me gustaría sentarme contigo y explicarte lo que va a suceder, hacerte entender todo lo que hay encerrado en algo que parecerá tan trivial, en un intercambio de textos, en un cariño que crece, el amor que florece en noches tan largas. Ojalá pudiese hacerte entender que llamará a tu puerta un amor como no verás otro igual.

Volviendo a su "Carta al hombre que amé", te escribo esta "Carta del hombre que amó", por que quiero que la imagines cuando 17 menajes después, recibas esa foto en la que ella presume de cabello con la frase "(...) Baja corriendo las escaleras peinándote el cabello. Eres la chica más extremadamente bonita que haya visto", hazme caso, lo es, esa cabrona es preciosa. Decía, que la imagines, volviendo de su trabajo, en el que empezó formándose y fue labrando una carrera, a su casa, donde tiene tantas y tantas cosas que irá compartiendo contigo.

Imagínala en medio de su rutina, de la monotonía, de la vida de una chica con sus altos y sus bajos, e intenta dimensionar el valor que tiene que todo, todo lo que la rodea, pase un segundo plano y tú, incógnita transoceánica hija del azar, pases a ser una prioridad para ella, imagínala sonriendo mientras te escribe, imagina que en tu mundo nunca dejó de hacerlo.

No tengo que pedirte que hagas esfuerzos hacia ella, te ofrecerá una relación tan cómoda y natural que los próximos tres días se os escaparán de entro los dedos, llegará entonces el primer te quiero, que no se irá nunca, que aún en mi mundo sigue vigente, como el hechizo imperante de su novela de brujas favorita, recuerda que aún siendo una trilogía, para ella solo cuenta el primero.

Quiero que la hagas sentir grande, que la protejas, del mundo, de ella y de ti, del paso del tiempo, de la rutina, de los eventos que nos inherentes a toda vida, que abraces sus 158 centímetros en cuanto ahorres lo necesario para retar el cielo que os une en un viaje solo de ida.

No olvides, cuando ella te hable de sus defectos, decirle que la genética de su madre es un trauma de adolescentes, que sus piernas cuidadas y tersas no albergan defectos, que serán recorridas una y mil veces por caricias sinceras de quien por tenerla ganó.

Rétala, insúltala, juega con ella, haz que sonría, haz que se enfade mientras sonríe, haz que sonría mientras se ríe, haz que le duela el cuerpo de ser tan feliz y deja entonces que se esconda en tus brazos, aunque los muerda, son pequeñas manía que no quiero que pierda ni esconda. Hazle saber que es una chica inteligente, pero que la comprendes, que tiene un lugar a tu lado, que el lugar a su lado es el tuyo, que tú si que entiendes que tras el techo de su habitación está el universo y es infinito, que ahí arriba hay tantas preguntas como noches en vela pasarías de su mano resolviéndolas. Puede no parecerlo, pero es muy importante que ella entienda que tu la entiendes, necesita que esa parte de ella no muera, necesitas que la lleves al cielo, que seáis astronautas, que vayáis a plutón, que entendáis el origen del mundo, que la magia vuestra rutina. No dejes que la vida la encierre, y si lo hiciese, enciérrate con ella.

No la ayudes a encontrar su camino, porque le encanta tantearlos, quédate a su lado y acompáñala, ríete de ella cuando fracase, antes de abrazarla y decirle que da igual, que la haces su comida favorita, veis una película, os quedáis dormidos hablando de la vida y mañana la acompañadas a una nueva aventura de la mano. Ayúdala a dejar algo en el mundo que ayude a alguien, construid un pequeño legado que inmortalice una existencia tan especial.

Hazle entender que ya no estará sola, que cuidaréis un jardín durante años, que en cada viaje comprareis una planta para vuestro jardín, consigue peonías blancas, ayúdale a entender que no es normal ponerle tierra de la playa a las plantas porque a ella no le da la cabeza, levántate a regar pronto las plantas antes de que ella las ahogue, y cada vez que sonría con esa sonrisa bonita que nace de agredirla, como en este momento, bésala hasta que ella te aparte, como yo haría.

Su sexto mensaje dirá lo siguiente: "(...) si un día encuentras que uniste todos mis fragmentos (los que dejo de mi en cada escrito) y crees poderme leer completa comparte conmigo tu rompecabezas", te darás cuenta entonces de que ella siempre tuvo el alma abierta y un hueco a su lado, de que puso todas las facilidades y se entregó sin miedo, con una hermosa ilusión por bandera, será el regalo más bonito que recibas jamás de alguien. Yo he juntado todos sus fragmentos, hace ya mucho tiempo, esta parte no lo desarrollaré, quiero que disfrutes de cada página del libro que ella representa, que todo sea nuevo, que sientas esa ilusión en el estómago al buscar un nuevo mensaje suyo, no quiero quitarte las noches hasta largas horas ni los precipitados amaneceres para leerla, fue amor mucho antes de que me diese cuenta. Disfruta de su lectura, de conocerla, como ella me dijo, porque un amigo le dijo antes: "En cada nueva lectura entiendes algo que en la lectura anterior no comprendías" y tal vez, hoy que la vida me permitió volver a aquel día, yo también aprenda algo que se me escapó, espero que no cometas mis errores y que en siete años, cinco meses veintitrés días no estés escribiendo esta carta si no mirándola a los ojos antes de darle un beso y de decirle cuanto la querrás siempre.

A ella que te demostrará algo que creí que siempre había negado, como es su teoría de que el amor de tu vida y la mujer de tu vida, no pueden ser personas iguales, ¿Sabes que ella, en su mensaje número diecisiete dirá "Sería increíble encontrar ambas en una sola persona, no creo que sea imposible"?, aunque en mi mundo nunca volvió a dar el brazo a torcer, hazme un pequeño favor, dile que un amigo tuyo que vive en otra línea del tiempo lo encontró, hazle creer que tiene razón en la única vez que dudó de ello, no dejes que lo niegue nunca, pero no le digas que es ella el amor de mi vida, porque ya lo sabe la mía, aunque no se lo diga.

¿Sabes que formaréis un vínculo de esos que rozan la magia y que esconden tras el techo de la habitación? ojalá nunca estés tan lejos de ella, pero si llegas a alejarte en tiempo y espacio, sentirás que algo te llama, como cuando tiras de los dos extremos de una goma y con la tensión corren a rozarse, es a través de ese evento, entre otras muchas cosas, que entendí que siempre había sido ella.

Tatúate un sakura cuando entiendas lo efímera que será la vida si la compartes con ella, no le tengas miedo a la muerte aunque os separe algún día, porque estoy seguro de que construiréis una vida plena para ambos, conserva la mentalidad que se que ya tienes, y que compartís, de que la vida es un instante, de que la muerte siempre se precipita y de que no podemos perder el poco tiempo del que disponemos, por tanto, haz que pierda la respiración de tanto reír, hazla gemir, haz que persiga sus sueños, se parte de ellos, cuídala, mímala, haz que todo tenga sentido, haz que solo sonría, que incluso llorar lo haga tranquila, que no encuentre nunca la soledad, que no sienta jamás que se ha equivocado.

Como ella dijo al preguntarle por su primer tatuaje "la vida es solo un suspiro, morir te lleva a otro mundo".

La primera noche que pases con ella, túmbate con ella en la cama, toma su mano y mirando al techo di "Puedes creer que nuestra galaxia puede contarse y moriremos en una milésima de segundo sin siquiera notarlo". Ella trasciende a todo eso, ella es el vehículo para que tú entiendas el movimiento del mundo y tú el suyo, juntos podréis calmar todas las inquietudes que tenéis dentro, no imaginas hasta qué punto os llegaréis a complementar mentalmente.

No te rías de ella porque le haya gustado Brida (si, de Paulo conejo), o si, hazlo, ríete siempre de ella, haz que su sonrisa de fingido enfado se dibuje de nuevo, pero después dile que sabes de buen tinta que ella será tu luz en el hombro izquierdo, lo entenderá.

¿Sabes que la hice llorar el segundo día que hablamos? fueron lágrimas de desahogo, le dije que sus experiencias del pasado no la hicieron llorar siempre por culpa suya, que no son los celos, que no está loca, que no supieron cuidarla, díselo ahora con más convicción, pues tampoco yo supe hacerlo como merecía, pero su única locura fue la de enamorarse de una manera tan bonita. Qué jodida cosa tan bonita fue conocerla de ese modo, con todos sus sentimientos a flor de piel, sin filtros, sin medidas.

También serás la primera persona que la llame idiota sin intención de ofenderla, dile que entonces te entendió mal, que la querías ofender, y después no se, haz lo que sabes hacer, para agredir a alguien de manera cariñosa no necesitas consejos.

Interésate por su horóscopo, lee tanto como puedas sobre Escorpio hasta que compruebes si hay convergencia de enunciados, interésate por los resquicios de misticismo que ella encuentre en el mundo, analizadlo juntos, ved películas al respecto, leed, viajad a la cuna de todo lo que os interese y ahogaos en la historia, recorred la línea del tiempo juntos, arquitectura, cine, historia, música, teatro, naturaleza, viajes, literatura, comed bien, haced mucho ejercicio...alimenta cada una de sus inquietudes, comparte todas las tuyas, buscáis lo mismo en este mundo.

Recuerda, si no cometes el error de no ir a verla, prepararle el desayuno, su Irish breakfast con dos de azúcar y un chorrito de leche, abraza también su pasado, llévala a Irlanda un día que no se lo espere...y tú tampoco, sencillamente tómala de la mano, llévala al aeropuerto y partid. Da igual el lugar si estáis juntos y mírale la muñeca para recordar que la vida dura poco.

Y cuando ella te diga, no tardará en hacerlo, que no cree que nada suceda por casualidad, que en el fondo las cosas tienen un plan secreto aunque nosotros no lo entendamos, dile, sonriendo, que no tiene ni la mas mínima idea, de cómo la vida le dio la razón.

Y si algún día te dice que, "tal vez en otra vida", dile que si, pero que en esta también, en esta y en todas.

Quiérela siempre, como haría yo, como hizo ella.

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marie-swriting · 11 months

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Rien De Sérieux - Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Résumé : Trois fois où tu flirtes avec Natasha et une fois où tu confesses tes sentiments.

Warnings : Angst, fin heureuse, consommation d'alcool (consommez l'alcool avec modération), vomissements, confession sous les effets de l'alcool, sous-entendus de sex mais rien d'explicite, dites-moi si j'en ai oublié d'autres.

Nombre de mots : 5k

Version anglaise

Chanson qui m'a inspiré : Flirting With Her par Sir Babygirl

-Au célibat ! cries-tu avant de boire un shot cul sec avec tes deux amies Sarah et Alison.

Un bruit résonne au moment où tu poses le verre avec force sur la table. L’alcool te brûle la gorge, mais tu pousses un léger cri de victoire. Ce soir, tu célèbres ton célibat comme tu l’as annoncé haut et fort.

Tu as été en couple pendant près de trois ans avant que ton ex se sépare car elle a trouvé quelqu’un de mieux que toi, apparemment. Tu ne vas pas mentir, il y a une semaine, tu étais une épave. Tu étais inconsolable, tu ne sortais que pour le travail et tu restais devant ta télé à ne rien faire. Finalement, grâce aux nombreux discours encourageants de tes deux meilleures amies, tu as réalisé que c’était sa perte et non la tienne. C’est pourquoi ce soir tu veux célébrer le fait d’être célibataire et sans attache.

-Je vais enfin pouvoir faire ce que j’ai toujours voulu faire et je vais le faire sans prise de tête, annonces-tu avec joie. Je vais pouvoir m’éclater, sortir autant que je le veux, être tranquille. Tu as raison, Sarah, c’est la meilleure chose qui pouvait m’arriver. Et moi, je vous le dis, je vais m’éclater…, continues-tu alors que tes yeux se posent sur une femme aux cheveux noirs, avec elle, par exemple. Elle est magnifique.

-La phase célibataire aura duré longtemps, rigole Alison alors que tu continues à fixer la femme.

-Qui a dit que je voulais me mettre en couple ?

-Tu viens de flasher sur elle.

-Et alors ? Rien ne dit que ça va être sérieux.

-Mais tu fais que dans le sérieux, contredit Sarah.

-Plus maintenant, déclares-tu alors que tu recommandes un shot.

-T’es sûre de ce que tu veux faire ?

-Totalement ! Elle est dans la Navy, expliques-tu en pointant son uniforme, elle ne doit pas être là pour longtemps autrement dit, si ça se passe bien, tant mieux et si ça se passe mal, je n’aurai pas à m’inquiéter de la recroiser. C’est tout bénéf’.

-Eh bien, vas-y ! t’encourage Alison.

-Et comment ! t’exclames-tu avant de boire ton nouveau shot.

Tu t’assures que tes vêtements soient en place avant d’aller au bar sous les encouragements de tes amies. Tu t’adresses d’abord à Penny et payes un verre. Tu attends patiemment que Penny donne le verre à la femme et explique que ça vient de ta part. Quand Penny part s’occuper des autres clients, la brune te regarde avec un sourire avant de boire une gorgée. Tu prends cela comme un bon signe donc tu te lèves et tu vas t'asseoir à ses côtés.

-Merci pour le verre. Bon choix, commente-t-elle en buvant un peu plus.

-Ravie que ça te plaise. Je m’appelle Y/N et toi ?

-Natasha.

-C’est quoi ton callsign ?

Natasha te regarde surprise suite à ta question, ne s’attendant pas à ce que tu t’intéresses à ce détail.

-Phoenix, informe Natasha avec un sourire confiant.

-Je parie que tu portes bien ton callsign.

-A toi de me le dire. Qu’est-ce qui t’amène ici ce soir ? questionne-t-elle, intriguée.

-Je profite de ma nouvelle liberté et toi ?

-Rien de spécial, juste la détente après le travail.

-Tu es ici pour un déploiement ?

-Oui, je reste que deux semaines. Je veux en profiter un maximum.

-Je veux également en profiter un maximum, déclares-tu avec un sourire dragueur. Tu devrais nous rejoindre, mes amies et moi. On va jouer aux fléchettes, tu es la bienvenue.

-Je viendrai.

Tu souris à Natasha puis retournes vers tes amis, la bouche grande ouverte simulant un cri de joie. Tes amies t’assoment de questions dès que tu les rejoins à la table et tu leur réponds sans perdre de temps.

-Je vous le dis, à la fin de cette soirée, j’ai au moins son numéro !

Et tu as même eu plus.

Le lendemain, tu te réveilles dans une chambre inconnue, les bras de Natasha enroulés autour de ta taille. Comprenant que tu n’es pas rentrée après votre moment à deux, tu t’insultes mentalement. Tu ne sais pas si tu devrais attendre qu’elle se réveille ou partir tout de suite. Tu débats pendant quelques secondes avant de venir à la conclusion qu’il est préférable de fuir maintenant, surtout car tu as du travail qui t’attend.

Doucement, tu t’extirpes des bras de Natasha et récupères tes habits au sol. Tu t’habilles en quatrième vitesse avant de marcher vers la sortie. Quand tu es sur le point d’ouvrir la porte, tu soupires de soulagement quand la voix de Natasha résonne derrière toi. Tu sursautes et te retournes vers elle, une main sur le cœur.

-Je ne pensais pas que tu étais le genre à partir comme une voleuse, rigole-t-elle.

-Oh, eh bien, je me disais que tu ne voudrais pas que je reste plus longtemps. En fait, je…, tentes-tu d’expliquer avant de t’avouer vaincue, j’admets que je connais pas trop les conventions des plans d’un soir. C’est la première fois que je fais ça.

-Ravie d’avoir été la première. Et pour info, selon les personnes, ça peut différer, mais personnellement, ça ne me dérange pas si tu veux rester un peu plus longtemps.

-Compris. Mais, je vais devoir y aller. J’ai du travail à faire, informes-tu, triste de devoir la quitter si vite.

-Pas de soucis. Tu vas sortir comme ça ?

Suite à sa question, tu baisses le regard sur ta tenue, ne comprenant pas sa critique. Certes, on devine que tu n’as pas une tenue habituelle pour un dimanche matin, mais elle ne paraît pas si moche. Tu ne vois pas le problème. Phoenix quitte le lit avant d’ouvrir son armoire.

-Il fait froid le matin. Tiens, tu peux prendre ma veste, dit-elle en te tendant le vêtement.

-Je suis pas sûre que je pourrais te la rendre avant que tu partes.

-Ce n’est pas grave. Au moins, ça me fera une excuse pour te renvoyer un message quand je serai dans le coin à nouveau.

-Merci pour la veste, alors.

Natasha te sourit avec tendresse pendant que tu enfiles la veste. Tu n’oses pas bouger pendant quelques secondes, admirant une dernière fois le visage de Natasha avant de partir. Tu veux mémoriser son visage car, même si elle t’as dit qu’elle t’enverra un message quand elle reviendra, tu en doutes. Vous avez flirté, vous avez accroché, vous avez passé un moment intime agréable, mais vous n’êtes qu’une histoire d’un soir. Et puis, tu ne penses pas être prête pour commencer quoi que ce soit.

Quand tu détaches enfin tes yeux de Natasha, tu fermes le vêtement avant d’ouvrir la porte. Natasha te demande de lui envoyer un message quand tu seras rentrée chez toi. Tu lui promets de le faire avant de la saluer.

Et, la seconde où tu arrives chez toi, tu te saisis de ton téléphone pour la prévenir :

Message de toi à Natasha, 7h36 :

Je suis bien arrivée. Merci encore pour la veste, je te promets de te la rendre quand tu reviendras…

Ou pas ;)

Six mois se sont écoulés depuis ta rencontre avec Natasha. Après ton message quand tu étais arrivée chez toi, elle t’avais répondu par un simple “contente que tu sois bien arrivée. À bientôt :)” puis, plus rien. Tu ne pouvais pas t’attendre à autre chose. Après tout, vous n’aviez partagé qu’une nuit ensemble. Il n’empêche que tu avais ressenti un léger pincement au cœur en réalisant son manque de message.

Par conséquent, tu as tout fait pour laisser cette histoire derrière toi. Même si tu la recroisais par hasard, rien ne se passerait, c’est une certitude. Tu dois continuer ta vie tranquillement où, ces derniers temps, tu as pris de nouvelles habitudes. L’une d’entre elles étant d’aller au Hard Deck une fois par semaine avec tes amies. Contrairement à quand tu étais plus jeune, tu apprécies maintenant mieux une soirée où tu t’amuses avec tes proches, une boisson alcoolisée en mains. Tu as fait quelques nouvelles rencontres, mais rien qui ne puisse arriver à la cheville de ce que tu avais ressenti en voyant Natasha.

Ce week-end là n’étant pas différent des autres, tu te retrouves au Hard Deck. Tu rigoles avec tes amies quand une serveuse vient te servir un cocktail que tu n’as pas commandé. Quand elle te dit qu’on te l’a offert et que tu découvres Natasha au loin, tu n’en crois pas tes yeux. Tu ne pensais plus la revoir. Elle te fait un signe avec son propre verre avant de boire une gorgée. Tu lui rends le geste et bois ton verre. À côté de Natasha, Bradley la regarde faire avant de soupirer, désespéré par la situation.

-Tu devrais aller lui parler au lieu de tenir une stupide distance de sécurité.

-On ne s’est pas vu pendant six mois, je voulais m’assurer qu’elle était encore intéressée avant de faire quoique ce soit.

-Maintenant que tu sais que c’est le cas, va la voir, ordonne-t-il en tentant de pousser Phoenix dans ta direction.

-Elle est avec ses amies.

-Et ça ne l’a pas dérangée la dernière fois pour venir te parler. Je comprends pas Natasha, t’as jamais été comme ça auparavant.

-Je sais ! s’exclame-t-elle, énervée contre elle-même. Et je déteste savoir que je réfléchis autant. J’ai l’impression d’être toi.

-C’était gratuit. Ce n’était même pas sérieux ce que vous aviez, tu n’as pas à te faire des nœuds au cerveau. Allez, va lui parler.

-Et lui dire quoi ?

-J’en sais rien, moi ! J’ai pas eu une aventure avec elle. Si tu veux pas lui parler, invite la à danser alors, propose Bradley, agacé.

-Personne est en train de danser.

-Dans moins d’une minute, ça ne sera plus le cas. Va la rejoindre, je m’occupe du reste.

Natasha boit d’une traite son verre avant de marcher vers toi avec un faux air confiant. De son côté, Bradley se dirige vers le piano, attendant le moment parfait pour commencer à jouer.

Tu parles avec Sarah qui est en face de toi quand Alison attire ton attention en te donnant un léger coup dans les côtes. Tu regardes ton amie, les sourcils froncés alors qu’elle te fait un signe de regarder de l’autre côté. Au même moment où tu tournes la tête, Natasha arrive en face de toi et Bradley commence à jouer les premières notes de Great Balls Of Fire. Les personnes du bar se mettent à danser instantanément alors que Natasha te tend sa main avec un sourire.

-On danse ?

Pour simple réponse, tu lui prends la main. Tu te lèves de ta chaise et suis Natasha qui t’amène vers le piano, tes amies sur tes talons. Vous accompagnez Bradley au chant alors que Natasha et toi dansez sans vous souciez du monde qui vous entoure. Vous rigolez, vous vous faites tournez chacun votre tour jusqu’à la dernière note de la chanson.

Quand Bradley termine de chanter, Natasha garde ta main dans la sienne. Vous vous regardez avec un grand sourire.

-Je ne savais pas que tu étais de retour. Tu ne m’as pas envoyé de message, déclares-tu, encore surprise.

-J’allais le faire, je viens juste d’arriver.

-Tu restes là pendant combien de temps ?

-Trois semaines.

-Donc on a un peu plus de temps que la dernière fois. Il faut en profiter pour rattraper le temps perdu. J’espère que j’aurai le temps pour te rendre ta veste, même si je dois t’avouer que j’aimerais bien la garder, mais tu peux toujours venir chez moi pour essayer de la récupérer, proposes-tu avec un regard dragueur.

-Je le ferai. Au moins, cette fois, je serai sûre que tu ne partiras pas comme une voleuse, rigole Natasha et tu lèves les yeux au ciel, faussement énervée.

-Tu ne vas pas me lâcher avec ça, hein ?

-Non.

Malgré toi, ton cœur fond en regardant le sourire malicieux de Natasha. Tu ne veux pas l’avouer, mais elle t’a manqué. Toi qui pensais l’avoir oubliée, tu réalises que tu étais loin de la réalité. Mais il faut croire que tu n’étais pas la seule. Tu es rassurée de constater que tu l’as marquée autant qu’elle t’a marqué, mais tu ne voulais pas t’attacher à quelqu’un de nouveau de sitôt.

Cependant, tu laisses derrière toi ces sentiments conflictuels le restant de la soirée, profitant de ce moment avec Natasha et apprenant à mieux la connaître.

Comme il y a six mois auparavant, après quelques commentaires dragueurs, Natasha se retrouve dans ton lit, tes bras autour de son corps.

Message de Natasha à toi, 21h05 :

Hey, je suis de retour en ville. Tu es libre ce soir ?

Tu regardes le message de Natasha pendant plusieurs minutes, ignorant quoi répondre. Tu es, effectivement, libre ce soir-là, mais tu ne sais pas si c’est une bonne idée. Depuis vos retrouvailles au Hard Deck il y a trois mois, vous vous êtes revues à de nombreuses reprises et tu dois avouer que tes sentiments pour elle sont de plus en plus forts.

Au début, tu as pensé que ça serait un simple béguin passager, mais elle hante ton esprit et tu n’attends que le moment où tu la reverras. Certes, votre relation est plus physique qu’émotionnelle, mais tu prends tout ce qu’elle veut bien te donner. Malgré toi, elle a réussi à laisser son nom sur tes lèvres et tu te languis de l’avoir dans tes bras. Tu aimerais plus, cependant ce n’est pas son cas, tu en es à peu près certaine. Tu devrais garder tes distances avec Natasha, ça serait préférable. Ainsi, tu pourras éviter ton cœur de se briser à nouveau, surtout pour une relation inexistante.

Tu dois lui mentir et dire que tu ne peux pas la voir. C’est ce qui est mieux pour toi. C’est ce que tu vas faire. Tu vas rester loin d’elle.

Tu n’es pas restée loin d’elle.

Sans vraiment savoir comment, tu t’es retrouvée dans la chambre d’hôtel de Natasha, vos vêtements se sont retrouvés au sol et vous vous êtes retrouvées dans le lit. Une partie de toi t’insulte de tous les noms pour ne pas avoir écouté ton côté rationnel, mais actuellement, c’est le cadet de tes soucis.

Dans les bras de Natasha, vous discutez sur divers sujets et tu réalises que si vous aviez une réelle chance, vous pourriez avoir une belle histoire d’amour. Vous avez de nombreux points communs et votre vision sur le monde et le futur sont similaires. Tu aurais pu avoir un beau futur avec Natasha. Cependant, après chaque moment intime passé ensemble, Natasha te rappelle bien que vous n’irez jamais plus loin que des nuits partagées ensemble.

-Je suis contente de t’avoir rencontré, tu sais, commence Natasha en te serrant un peu plus contre elle. À cause de mon boulot, ça a toujours été compliqué de former des relations, mais avec toi c’est simple, sans prise de tête. On ne cherche pas du sérieux donc ce qu’on a nous suffit.

-Ouais, c’est vrai que c’est bien. Je profite à fond de ma vie de célibataire pour la première fois de ma vie, affirmes-tu en cachant ta déception.

-Tu sais le jour où tu auras rencontré quelqu’un qui en vaut la peine, tu pourras me le dire. Je comprendrai si tu voulais qu’on coupe tout contact.

-De même pour toi .

-Tu n’as pas à t’inquiéter de mon côté.

-Tu ne veux pas de relation sérieuse ? Jamais ? questionnes-tu en la regardant dans les yeux.

-C’est pas que je n’en veux pas, c’est que c’est plus simple comme ça. Je ne pourrais jamais réellement donner à une autre personne la relation qu’elle mérite alors autant gagner du temps. Et puis, les relations à distance, ce n’est pas vraiment mon truc et je ne veux pas demander à la personne de tout plaquer pour moi, déclare-t-elle comme si c’était une évidence.

-Mais certaines personnes arrivent à trouver un équilibre entre le boulot et leur couple.

-Tu as raison. Je ne sais juste pas si je trouverai cette personne un jour.

En entendant sa phrase, ton cœur se serre. Natasha vient de te faire une bonne piqûre de rappel. Tu dois t’éloigner d’elle. Elle ne veut pas de relation sérieuse et même si elle en voulait une, clairement tu n’es pas la personne qu’elle aime. Elle t’a dit les yeux dans les yeux qu’elle n’avait pas trouvé une personne qui valait la peine d’avoir une relation.

Tu retiens les larmes du mieux que tu peux en la regardant. Quand tu réalises que tu ne vas pas y arriver, tu éclaircis ta gorge avant de te relever et récupérer tes affaires au sol.

-Je… Je dois y aller. Je travaille tôt demain, annonces-tu en enfilant ton haut.

-On peut aller se coucher maintenant si tu veux.

-Non, je dois rentrer chez moi. Je n’ai pas mes affaires.

-On pourra se revoir dans les jours à venir ?

-Je ne pense pas, je suis plutôt occupée en ce moment, mens-tu en remontant la braguette de ton pantalon. Je… Salut, bégayes-tu.

Tu ne laisses pas le temps à Natasha de te dire au revoir et tu fuis sa chambre d’hôtel. Tu cherches tes clés de voiture dans ton sac à main alors que tes larmes s’agglutinent dans tes yeux. Tes larmes finissent par couler quand tu quittes le parking.

Tu le savais. Tu savais que tu allais finir avec un cœur brisé si tu continuais et ça ne t’a pas arrêté. Pourquoi faut-il que tu aies un cœur si fragile ? Pourquoi faut-il que tu t’attaches aux personnes aussi facilement ? Pourquoi ne peux-tu garder une distance émotionnelle ? Natasha y arrive très bien, alors pourquoi pas toi ?

En arrivant chez toi, tes pleurs se sont calmés, même si tes joues sont encore mouillées. Tu te prépares pour aller te coucher et avant de t’installer dans ton lit, tu prends ton téléphone. Tu es sur le point d’ouvrir tes contacts quand tu reçois un message de Natasha.

Message de Natasha à toi, 00h30 :

J’espère que la prochaine fois on aura un peu plus de temps :)

Tu n’as pas la force de répondre. À contrecœur, tu supprimes la conversation puis tu supprimes son numéro - non sans hésiter pendant quelques secondes. Tu reposes ton téléphone et tentes de trouver le sommeil malgré ton cœur en mille morceaux.

Quatre mois sont passés depuis ta dernière fois avec Natasha et tu t’en es plus ou moins remise.

Enfin, si on prend en compte ton état actuel, on dirait que tu en souffres encore. Dire que tu es saoule serait un euphémisme. Tu ignores combien de verres tu as bu au total mais tu sais que si tu essayes de marcher, tu vas tomber. Et tout ça, à cause d’un maudit message. Techniquement, tu aurais pu passer outre ce message. N’ayant plus le numéro de Natasha, il était indiqué comme venant d’un numéro inconnu et elle ne disait rien de spécial. Son message était un simple et innocent "hey 😘", mais ça a suffi pour comprendre qui était l’expéditrice et te faire souffrir au passage. Tu pensais que tu avançais enfin et ta réaction te prouve que ce n'était qu'une impression.

Tu es seule à ta table même si tu es venue avec ton amie Sarah. Elle est actuellement en train de danser avec un homme qu'elle vient de rencontrer. Au départ, elle ne voulait pas te laisser seule, sachant que tu noies ton chagrin. Toutefois, tu lui as assuré qu'elle pouvait s'amuser sans culpabiliser alors que tu commandais un sixième verre.

Tes yeux fixent tes mains tenant le verre alors que tu te perds dans tes pensées. Tu n'aurais pas dû commencer cette relation avec Natasha. C'est la phrase qui tourne en boucle dans ta tête depuis que tu as quitté sa chambre d'hôtel.

Le lendemain de votre dernière fois, tu étais allée voir tes amies et avait déversé toute ta tristesse dans leurs bras. Toutes les deux, elles t'ont affirmé que tu devais passer à autre chose, comme tu le craignais. Une partie de toi espérait qu'elles t'encourageraient à te battre pour ta potentielle relation avec Natasha. Malheureusement, tes amies sont réalistes.

Tu continues de boire ton verre lentement quand tu sens la présence de quelqu'un à tes côtés. En tournant la tête, tu vois Natasha et tu te dis que tu ne devrais pas finir ta boisson. Ton état d'ébriété est si fort que tu commences à avoir des hallucinations. Tu ne pensais pas ça possible.

-Hey, comment ça va ?

Ce n'est peut-être pas une hallucination finalement. La voix de Natasha te semble bien réelle.

-Oh, salut ! t'exclames-tu en tentant d'être naturelle.

-J'imagine que c'est pas ton premier verre.

-Eh bien, c'est possible. Probable.

-Tu crois pas que tu devrais rentrer ? Tu es venue seule ? questionne-t-elle en cherchant une de tes amies du regard.

-Avec Sarah.

-Tu veux que je te ramène chez toi ?

-Non, je vais attendre Sarah, te dépêches-tu de répondre, te rappelant que tu dois garder tes distances.

-Elle m'a l'air occupée, constate Natasha en voyant ton amie. Attends ici.

Sans que tu puisses l'arrêter, Natasha s'éloigne de toi et va retrouver Sarah. Tu la vois lui parler et ton amie te regarde avant de hocher la tête, réticente. Rapidement, Natasha revient vers toi et enlève ton verre de tes mains. Tu t'apprêtes à protester quand elle t'aide à te relever.

-Allez, on rentre.

-Mais je dois rentrer avec Sarah, t’opposes-tu.

-Je l'ai prévenue que je te ramène, t’informe-t-elle, te surprenant.

-Elle a accepté ?

Tu n'aurais pas pensé que Sarah aurait accepté, sachant qu'elle ne cesse de te répéter que tu dois absolument oublier Natasha. Ton état doit être encore plus pathétique que tu ne le croyais.

-Vu à quel point tu es bourrée, on s'est dit que c'était préférable de te ramener chez toi maintenant. Allez, viens.

N'ayant pas la force de te battre, tu cèdes et suis Natasha dans sa voiture. Une fois attachées, Natasha démarre. Ta tête collée contre la vitre de la voiture, tu contemples la nuit, tes pensées tout embrouillées.

Après quelques minutes, tu détaches tes yeux du ciel et regardes Natasha. Tu admires chaque centimètre de sa peau alors qu'elle est concentrée sur la route.

-Tu es vraiment magnifique, déclares-tu sans préambule.

-Oh, euh, merci, répond Natasha, gênée.

-Comment tu peux être si magnifique ? Et ce n'est pas tout ! Tu es aussi intelligente, drôle et encore pleins d'autres qualités.

-Pourquoi est-ce que j'ai l'impression que c'est des accusations ? demande-t-elle en entendant ton ton rempli de reproches.

-Parce que si tu étais moins parfaite ça serait plus simple.

-Je suis loin d'être parfaite. Et qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par "ça serait plus simple"?

-Arrête la voiture, rétorques-tu en sentant une envie de vomir monter.

-Quoi ?

-Arrête la voiture ! Gare toi !

La voiture est à peine à l'arrêt que tu es déjà sortie. Tu peux tout juste faire deux pas avant de vider le contenu de ton estomac. Natasha vient rapidement derrière toi et tient tes cheveux. Quand tu as fini de vomir, tu respires pendant quelques secondes avant de te redresser, une expression honteuse sur ton visage.

-Désolée, c’était pas sexy.

-Ce n’est pas grave. Tu te sens mieux ? s’inquiète-t-elle en examinant ton visage.

-Ça m’a fait du bien de vomir.

-Tiens, te dit Natasha en te donnant un mouchoir. Je crois que j’ai une bouteille d’eau dans ma voiture et des pastilles à la menthe, tu en veux ?

-Je veux bien, s’il te plait.

Pendant que tu t'essuies la bouche, Natasha va chercher de l’eau et une pastille. Quand elle te tend la bouteille, tu te rinces rapidement la bouche avant de mettre la pastille dans ta bouche. Vous restez debout encore quelques minutes, voulant s’assurer que ton ventre ne va pas continuer à se vider.

-Tu te sens prête à repartir ? questionne-t-elle en caressant ta joue.

-Je crois, oui, mais conduis doucement, c’est plus sûr.

-Dis-moi si tu as besoin qu’on s’arrête à nouveau.

Délicatement, Natasha te prend la main et t’accompagne vers la voiture. Cette fois, tu restes silencieuse tout le long du trajet. Tu es concentrée sur le paysage et Natasha n’ose pas perturber tes pensées. Au fur et à mesure de la route, tes paupières deviennent lourdes et tu finis par t’endormir.

Quand Natasha arrive chez toi, elle te réveille doucement. Tu grognes légèrement avant d’ouvrir les yeux. Natasha te soutient jusqu’à ta porte alors que tu dors debout. Elle t’amène dans la salle de bain où elle t’aide à te préparer pour aller te coucher - et où tu peux enfin aller te laver les dents. Quand tu es prête, vous allez dans ta chambre et tu t’allonges sans attendre une seconde. Tu t’installes confortablement pendant que Natasha positionne la couverture comme il faut sur toi. Elle s’apprête à partir quand tu serres sa main.

-Reste, murmures-tu avec des yeux endormis. Je ne veux pas être seule.

-Je reste là, je vais juste dormir sur le canapé.

-S’il te plaît, reste avec moi, insistes-tu en tentant de la tirer vers toi.

-Tu en es sûre ?

Pour simple réponse, tu hoches la tête. Natasha enlève ses chaussures et son pantalon, restant seulement avec ses sous-vêtements et son tee-shirt avant de te rejoindre dans le lit. Allongée sur le côté, tu cherches la main de Natasha. Elle comprend ce que tu veux et place sa main autour de ta taille, plaquant ton dos contre son torse. À son touché, tu lâches un soupir d’apaisement.

-Au fait, il faut vraiment que je te rende ta veste, dis-tu avec une voix endormie. Je ne peux plus la garder tout comme je ne devrais pas t’avoir aussi proche de moi, continues-tu, faisant froncer les sourcils de Natasha. Je tiens à toi, tu sais. Plus que je ne le devrais. Je t’aime bien, Nat’.

Et sur ces mots, tu t’endors. Derrière toi, Natasha se demande si elle a bien entendu ce que tu murmurais et surtout si tu le pensais. Après tout, ce n’est peut-être que les effets de l’alcool ? Cependant, elle ne peut empêcher un sourire de prendre place sur ses lèvres avant de resserrer son étreinte autour de ton corps.

Le lendemain matin, tu te réveilles avec une des plus grosses gueules de bois de ta vie. Tu as définitivement passé l’âge pour boire autant sans en affronter les effets. Tu ouvres doucement les yeux, craignant que la lumière du jour ne te les brûle. Heureusement, il y a assez de lumière pour te permettre de voir sans te faire mal. En jetant un coup d'œil à ta table de nuit, tu trouves un verre d’eau et un médicament que tu prends sans te faire prier après t’être assise.

Quand tu reposes le verre, la porte de ta salle de bain s’ouvre sur Natasha, te faisant froncer les sourcils instantanément. Tu ne te rappelles pas d'être rentrée avec elle. En voyant la panique dans tes yeux, Natasha se rapproche de toi avec un sourire rassurant.

-Il ne s’est rien passé. Je t’ai aidé à rentrer chez toi cette nuit.

-Oh, d’accord. Et Sarah, elle sait que…

-Elle sait, oui. Je l’avais prévenue avant qu’on parte. Comment tu te sens aujourd’hui ? demande Natasha en s’installant en face de toi sur le lit.

-Comme si j’avais trop bu hier soir, rigoles-tu et elle fait de même.

-Je peux imaginer. Tu te rappelles de quelque chose, par rapport à hier soir ? questionne-t-elle, une pointe de peur dans sa voix

-Euh, quelques passages, mais…

Tu t’arrêtes dans ta phrase alors que tu essayes de te rappeler de la soirée d’hier. Certains passages sont plus flous que d’autres, mais un est très net. Ta confession avant que tu ne t’endormes. Tes joues chauffent et tes mains deviennent moites. Tu espères de tout coeur que Natasha n’ait rien entendu. Toutefois, son regard appuyé te fait comprendre que tes espoirs sont vains.

-Dis-moi que je n’ai pas dit ça. Est-ce qu’on peut faire comme si je n’avais rien dit ?

-Pourquoi ? demande-t-elle sans comprendre.

-Parce que c’est gênant et parce que ça ne pourrait pas fonctionner entre nous.

-Qui te dit que ça ne pourrait pas ?

-Toi, déclares-tu comme une évidence. Tu as dit que tu ne voulais pas d’une relation sérieuse ou d’une relation à distance.

-C’est pour ça que tu ne réponds pas à mes messages ?

-A quoi ça aurait servi ? A part à me faire mal au coeur, dis-tu en évitant son regard. Je sais que j’ai dit que je ne voulais rien de sérieux quand on a commencé à se voir et c’était vrai au début, mais j’aime passer du temps avec toi, être à tes côtés, t’écouter parler même si je sais que je ne devrais pas. J’aurais dû mettre un terme à notre relation quand mes sentiments ont changé. Je comprendrais si tu ne voulais plus me parler, chuchotes-tu, les larmes te montant aux yeux.

-Y/N…, commence-t-elle en te prenant la main. Je suis désolée de t’avoir donné l’impression que je ne voulais pas de toi. J’ai paniqué quand j’ai réalisé mes sentiments. Je pensais que tu ne voulais rien de sérieux alors j’ai essayé de garder mes distances tout en restant proche de toi et je t’ai blessé. Je suis désolée. Mais je veux une relation sérieuse avec toi. Et peu importe, s’il y a la distance, je veux essayer avec toi, car tu en vaut la peine. Je tiens à toi, confesse Natasha, te faisant relever les yeux vers elle.

-Ne dis pas ça pour me faire sentir bien, j’étais ivre quand je l’ai dit et…

Les lèvres de Natasha sont sur les tiennes avant que tu puisses ajouter un autre mot. Surprise, il te faut un temps avant de répondre à son baiser. Les mains de Natasha trouvent leur chemin jusqu’à tes hanches alors que les tiennent se perdent dans ses cheveux. Vous vous embrassez quelques secondes avant de vous séparer. Tu gardes les yeux fermés un peu plus longtemps, appréciant ce sentiment. Ce n’est peut-être pas la première fois que tu embrasses Natasha, mais ce baiser est différent de ceux que vous avez pu partager.

-Tu me crois maintenant quand je te dis que je tiens à toi aussi ou il te faut plus de preuves ?

-Je crois qu’il m’en faut encore d’autres, oui, souris-tu avec un regard amoureux.

-Dans ce cas-là, alors…, reprend Natasha avant de poser ses lèvres sur les tiennes à nouveau.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

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