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nataliaphantomhivesblog · 3 years

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Corruption & Trust

Stormbringer and bsd spoilers in general ahead so read at your own risk!!

So in this post I will be listing all the times Chuuya used corruption and all the times Dazai was there to stop it. I will also go into depth as to why Chuuya trusts Dazai when it comes to having to use corruption and I will also emphazise on Dazai's care and how he takes corruption seriously.

1. First time using corruption: Stormbringer

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 16 yrs old

"Isn't it an unpleasant sight, Chuuya."

It was a young boy. This young boy casually caught hold of Chuuya's arm and lifted it up. With this movement, the gravitational field which had occured around them disappered immediatly. As well as Chuuya’s agony.

"Y...You..."

"You can't even die gracefully can you?" the young boy said in a raspy voice as he heaved Chuuya on his shoulders. He set off to walk.

Alright so this was the first time Chuuya's corruption was ever activated, after Dazai nullifies it and carries Chuuya on his back, he drops him off outside the bar were Chuuya's friends lay dead. He took him there instead of taking him directly to the port mafia quarters.

Why did he do that exactly? If Dazai doesn't care for Chuuya, then why did he give Chuuya the opportunity to pay farewell to his dying friends?

It's actually sort of funny because I don't really think Dazai really realizes or accepts that he feels a certain connection with Chuuya and therefore looks after him.

2. Second time using Corruption: Stormbringer

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 16 yrs old (obviously, its still the same light novel lol)

After losing his strength, Chuuya drifted in the air for a few seconds, then lost the black wings on his back and slowly fell.

Dazai caught his body.

From the spot where Dazai touched, the nulification skill was activated.

The self-contradictory skill that supports the energy of the singular point receded, and the output of the singular point decreased. Eventually, it converged and the "gate" closed. The red imprints disappeared from Chuya's whole body. Eventually, the gravitational field disappeared and the complete silence was restored.

“Good job, Chuuya." Dazai chuckled, looking at Chuuya he was holding in his arms. "I forgot to bring my ink pen, so I'll spare you from having your face scribbled."

As much as it looks like this is from a fanfiction, I can assure you that it's an actual passage from stormbringer.

I can't really say much except the fact that Dazai is being extremely soft here.

And this was the conversation Dazai and Chuuya shared beforehand:

"There is one problem." Dazai cut off his sentence hesitantly. "It has nothing to do with the sucess rate of the plan. It is a matter we have to overcome in the end but... It may require some time to decide."

"What's with you?" Chuuya raised his eyebrows at Dazai. "Stop dramatizing it. Just hurry up and say it."

"I said earlier about this control spell to open the 'gate' that is used to reset the command inside Chuuya, right?" Dazai spoke with a strangely restrained voice. "If we use that, the logs of the command formula that were written in the past will be erased. That means...even if the memory erasure was used on Chuuya in the past, the traces of that will be erased as well."

"What?"

"I told you before right? the memory erasure command. The only way we can confirm if Chuuya is human or not is to check the history to see if the memory erasure command was ever used. It means..." Dazai looked at Chuuya with eyes that he had never looked at him before. Those eyes were serious. "If we use that control spell, the method to confirm if Chuuya is an artificial personality created by a string of code, or just a normal human being, will be lost. For good."

The time had stopped.

Chuuya opened his eyes and looked towards Dazai but his eyes were not seeing anything. The wind blew between the two of them. Even so, Chuuya did not blink.

"Verlaine became like that because he was tormented by the curse that he was not human. That only is enough of a big problem. The matter of being human or not." Dazai looked at his pocket watch, gave it a glance and continued. "I can delay the time until the plan starts for about two minutes. I will send an order for my men to wait... You can think about it alone for a while. Cuz I guess its hard for you to collect your thoughts with me around."

Having said so, Dazai turned away and walked down the stairs, leaving Chuuya alone.

Dazai fixated in his pocket watch. Two more minutes. Too short for a life decision. But he couldn't afford more than that.

Inside Dazai's head, he was planning a procedure to swith to an alternative plan in case Chuuya refused, at a tremendous speed.

After this exchange, Chuuya does decide on using corruption. I have talked about this section on a previous post of mine, and I just love it so much. For starters, I think this conversation that these two shared is very important to their characters.

For Chuuya, it shows us how undeniably selfless he is. He would rather save the people of Yokahama instead of finding out something that meant a lot to him. He sacrificed his own desires to save the people he cares about.

For Dazai its a completely different story, in this exchange Dazai was able to openly express genuine concern for his partner. He also understands the gravity of the decision Chuuya has to take and therefore leaves the decision up to him.

Third time using corruption: Dragon's Head Conflict

Chuuya and Dazai' s age: 16 yrs old

During this one, Chuuya demands to know where his friends are, and Shibusawa says all six of them killed themselves after being caught. Enraged, Chuuya activates Corruption which ultimatley ended the 88 day conflict.

There isn't much to say about Dazai and Chuuya here since there isn't really an aftermath on this occasion but I bealive this picture is enough.

Before reading the DA manga, I genuienly thought that the only time Chuuya ever rested on Dazai's lap was when they were 22 but this proved me wrong.

I mean this is a minimal thing to point out but if Dazai disregarded Chuuya he would've just left him there, right? But instead he remained with Chuuya and allowed him to rest on his lap, in the picture you can also see he is putting Chuuya's hat back on. It's such a simple gesture but it shows us how caring Dazai can be when it comes to Chuuya using corruption.

Fourth time using corruption: Lovecraft Battle, Double Black reunion

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 22 yrs old

This is personally one of my favorite times in which Chuuya uses corruption. The fact that these two had not been working together for 4 years yet they still managed to not only accomplish their mission, but mantain their trust for one another.

I find what Chuuya says here extremely ironic because if anything, the choice has always been up to him. Dazai always uses corruption as a last-resort trick and its always Chuuya who makes the final decision of using it or not, even in a life or death situation Dazai won't take it upon himself to force Chuuya to make the decision if they will be using it or not, and hes always willing to come up with an alternative plan in case Chuuya refuses. (an example of this is when Chuuya used corruption for the 2nd time in SB).

I think the reason as to why Dazai takes corruption extremely seriously is because during stormbringer he was the first person to even see Chuuya use corruption and also the person who understood how corruption will always be sort of like a burden to Chuuya, since it was thanks to corruption that his "am I human?" question stayed unanswered.

He knows how it feels to struggle with your own humanity and he doesn't want for Chuuya (who he literally sees as human), to hold that inner conflict with himself because of corruption.

Anyways, Chuuya decides to go through corruption trusting that Dazai will be there to nullify it.

And of course, Dazai does nullify it.

And after Dazai nullifies corruption, we get this very touching moment between both of them.

This is the first time Chuuya openly admits to trusting Dazai, although it was always evident that he trusts him, I just love how open he is being here.

Also the light punch he gives to Dazai's chest is such a sweet gesture, I see it as a silent way for Chuuya to say "I trust you because after all this time I still see you as my partner."

Dazai's smile in that small pannel is one of the most genuine expression we have gotten out of him. What he says is also a very sweet, I love that he calls him partner. The fact that these two are literally in rival organizations yet Dazai still calls him partner, it shows us that even after all these years he still can't help but see him the same way as he has always done.

Actually in Japanese he calls him "Aibou" and from my understanding, when you use the term Aibou it's for someone who you consider yourself to be close with. It means "partner" like in english but it holds a deeper meaning. If Dazai used the word "nakama" it would have been a very diffrent story since it means partner as well but it isn't used for someone you share a significant connection with. Asagiri's play with words here says a lot.

Fifth time using corruption: Dead Apple

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 22yrs old.

Of course I have to talk about one of the most iconic moments in the history of Soukoku.

Chuuya uses corruption to save Dazai, even if Ango says that he's dead for sure. Something I find very intresting here though is that Chuuya screams for Dazai while he is on corruption, he is obviously not supposed to be self concious about the whole situation, while on Corruption clearly he is not supposed to be in sane state of mind, as we all here know, Chuuya loses control and does not have the track of reality while under his own ability but this time, while using corruption, the one and only thing that was on his mind was "Dazai."

It wasn't only Chuuya who entrusted his life to Dazai, Dazai too entrusted his life in Chuuya's hands. When Dazai came up with this plan, he was more than certain that Chuuya was going to save him. And I think a tumblr blog pointed this out but when Chuuya uses curroption, he cannot control his strength, but when he had to punch Dazai he did it lightly, which is strange considering he was using curroption and it would've made a lot more sence if Dazai ended up decapitated due to being punched by a literal god. Dazai had to have faith in the fact that Chuuya will somehow be able to control corruption, even if its just a little bit.

Afterwards when Chuuya manages to rescue Dazai, Dazai gently touches his cheek to nullify corruption and greets him with, "You used Corruption believing in me? I am so touched I could cry." Chuuya groans, and replies that yes he did, that he believed in his disgusting vitality and craftiness.

When they both fall to the ground, Dazai forces Chuuya to rest in his lap because he didn't want to have to protect him from this situation since the fog is still up and Chuuya himself is all worn out and wouldn't be able to fight. But heres the thing, both Chuuya and Dazai's abilities can't be seperated by the fog. I mean Dazai's ability is nulification so it basically cancels out, and Chuuya hosts a literal god inside him so it isn't really an ability if you know what I mean.

So in reality, Dazai just wanted Chuuya to rest. Dazai could've literally just left Chuuya in the fog if he was only using him for his goals, but he was genuienly appreciating Chuuya's trust in him. The way Dazai's hand is resting on Chuuya's hair is a nice gesture too, he is greatful for him and he is moved that someone trusts him, it is shown throughout the Fifthteen and SB light novel that no one trusted Dazai and how most were afraid to even approach him. And in the ADA, everyone is somewhat warry around him (excluding Atsushi ofc). But Chuuya literally puts his life on the line trusting that Dazai will always be there to save him. He trusts him greatly and Dazai knows that, and I think its pretty clear to us that he would never want to break that trust.

The fact that Chuuya trusts Dazai even after he left the Port Mafia without an explanation or goodbye shows us how strong their bond is. Chuuya most likely trusts Dazai because deep down he knows that he isn't using Chuuya's ability out of his own selifshness, a part of him is aware that Dazai uses corruption as a last resort but he just doesn't want to admit it, and I feel like he also trusts him subconciously because of how gentle Dazai is after Chuuya uses corruption.

I really hope we get to see more of these "corruption moments" because in all honesty, these moments are the ones that bring out the most vulenrability for both characters. The moment corruption is used, we see the inmeasurable amount of trust and care these two have for each other that they won't show in other situations. During these times it always shines a very open and bittersweet light on their bond and I love it so much.

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom x reader #peter parkqueue #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tomholland #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x pregnant!reader #Tom Holland fluff #tom holland fluff

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bulletproofthroat · 3 years

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the problem these people fail to acknowledge is not their attraction to real people. hell, i am infatuated with sid wilson myself and anyone who talks to me knows that. the problem is the utter shamelessly lack of respect for these real life people who they do not even personally know. its okay to talk about your attraction to them and hell, i think having fantasies about them is normal and okay as long as you dont post these things somewhere where the chance of the people youre talking about or people close to them discovering it is real. go hog on your private account, its what i do. dont post that shit to ao3 or tumblr or any place where it can be seen by people who arent meant to see it, its destroyed relationships before and can put a huge burden on those people. they are, again, actual human beings. not fictional characters whom you can project your weird fetishes on with no regard for how they would feel about it. the lack of respect and detachment from reality of these people is honestly astonishing, and i do not even understand how this is in any way a "controversial" thing to say in a fanbase like this. its NOT hard to keep this shit away and hidden from the public eye, keep it restricted to private accounts at the very least if youre gonna be gross. its not much to ask. in all honesty this isnt even an "anti vs proship" situation or anything like that, its begging these people to have some decency.

this perspectives been on tiktok too, literally people saying how members are just making members so dehumanised and shit, like yall are gonna come after the sane people barking and shitting ur diapers because ur indecent shit is getting judged, that you posted on YOUR own accord, dont blame people who read ur shit and judge it, i dont think people r gonna get pressed then just scroll off, people have opinions either u fucking cry about it in the comments or you grow some genitals and fuck off

#slipknot #corey taylor #jim root #stone sour #joey jordison #murderdolls #john5 #mick thomson #sid wilson

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lepusrufus · 3 years

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Double edged scalpel ch. 2

Ch. 1

Summary: Cassanda Awkward Asshole Dimitrescu

---

After a couple weeks of doing normal maid chores, Nicole was not expecting to see the dungeons again. Not after Cassandra’s little “failed experiment”. But all good things must come to an end eventually, don’t they? And to an end they came when a faint buzzing reached her ears mid-mopping the floor in one of the main halls.

Two gloved hands were placed on her hips, pinning her in place, while Cassandra's chin came to rest on her shoulder. She inhaled deeply before finally speaking.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Yes you very much are.

"Of course not, my lady."

"Good good. Sadly my study is quite a mess again and I was wondering…" one hand came to teasingly caress Nicole’s cheek. “You aren’t busy tomorrow, are you?”

She wasn’t. In fact, tomorrow was Nicole’s day off, something that she would bet on a lifetime supply of coffee that Cassandra was well aware of. It took every ounce of self control not to let a groan accompany her next words.

“I am not.” Asshole.

She felt herself being spun around, Cassandra’s face uncomfortably close to hers. “Be there by ten then.” And, with the sickle now under Nicole’s chin, “Don’t be late.”

And just as easily as she appeared, Cassandra dissipated into a cloud of flies and made her leave. A sigh of relief got caught in Nicole’s throat when she noticed the other two sisters standing in the doorframe opposite from the one Cassandra flew out of. They both gave her an amused look, seeing the faint blush on Nicle’s cheeks and, to her dread, they both approached her. Bela was the first to speak, thankfully keeping her distance.

“So what exactly is your deal? Immune to all the blood and gore, hm,” she hummed, eyes inquisitive .

“It’s been a while since Cassie was so dead set on scaring someone,” Daniela chirped in from behind and Nicole had to force herself not to snort at the nickname.

So that’s what this was about. Lil’ old Cassie was throwing a hissy fit because one person in this castle wasn’t cowering and bowing at her feet the moment they saw some blood splattered on her otherwise beautiful face. If she had to work in this hellhole of a village, then at the very least she could get some mild satisfaction out of annoying the family sadist. With the other sisters however, there was no point in hiding what her “deal” was.

“I worked as a medical examiner.” At a raised blonde eyebrow she specified, “I used to examine dead bodies. Autopsies and all that.”

Bela’s face turned from mild shock to amusement, her eyes darting to the younger sister who straight up started laughing while the eldest, at least trying to keep her composure, chuckled.

“Oh this is gonna be interesting,” the redhead said through giggles.

---

Nicole really had hoped that Cassandra meant 10 pm, with how the Dimitrescus were nowhere to be found during the early day, and she would still have the day to herself until night came. That idea went completely out the tinted windows when, at nine thirty, the head chambermaid came to remind her of the change in schedule. She quickly downed the remaining coffee from her cup while mentally cursing and bolted to her room to change into proper attire, then out the door she went.

Where was she even supposed to meet the brunette? The doors to the dungeons were bolted shut and she doubted Cassandra would oh so graciously escort her this time. Then again, Lady Dimitrescu did say that she had to be supervised. She got her answer when the doors opened with a click and a drawn out groan from the heavy wood. Cassandra was standing there, eyes scrutinizing as ever while giving Nicole a once over. Then she pulled out a pocket watch that looked at least a century old.

“You’re…” eyes narrowed at the small silver object. “Seven minutes early. Oh you’re as annoying about being on time as Bela aren’t you?”

Well you did make it a point to tell me to be on time, you absolute hypocrite. Instead of voicing her opinions though, Nicole settled for following the other girl deep into the castle’s undergrounds, through damp and oddly warm corridors. The giddiness was back into Cassandra’s demeanor, golden eyes occasionally turning to the small redhead walking behind her with an expression of barely concealed glee. This was definitely not good news.

It took about .5 seconds to notice what got the brunette so happy when they entered her study. The room was definitely cleaner than the first time, only a handful of devices were dirty and the floor needed some mopping. The tables however... One was covered in fresh blood and the other had a dead body sprawled on it, partially covered by a stained sheet. Oh the irony.

While Nicole was cleaning the unoccupied table, she was facing the brunette, somehow trusting her even less with a scalpel in hand than with a sickle. Not that watching her absolutely botch an autopsy was much better mind you.

Has nobody taught you about the Y incision?!

That's too dee- congrats you’re making a mess.

That cut needs to go lower. What, are you afraid of some balls?

Oh my god are you trying to take the heart out before even taking care of the guts-

“What is it?” Cassandra’s voice came with a low growl, then a slight cock of the head. “You’re staring.”

“N-nothing,” Nicole stumbled over her reply, realizing too late that her hand had stilled on the rag she was using to clean the blood.

“One thing that I hate more than being disrespected is being lied to.” The warning was clear in her tone. “So I’ll ask again: what is it?”

Nicole was sure that being criticized was something she would hate even more, so she made the split second decision to go with a white lie.

“I just...find autopsies quite fascinating.” Well, in a way she did.

“...You do?” Golden eyes widened in what was probably the first truly genuine emotion Nicole has ever seen on Cassandra’s face: surprise, and a hint of curiosity.

When Nicole reaffirmed her reply, the brunette’s eyes stayed on her for a few long seconds, trying to find the traces of a lie. When she found none, she just dismissed the other girl with an awkward cough and a “Those knives won’t clean themselves.”

A tense silence fell on the room, only disturbed by the occasional clink of metal tools or the sloshing of organs being handled by the brunette. After the table was wiped to a reflective surface, Nicole moved on to mopping the blood trails on the floor. She was grateful for the chance to step away from Cassandra, if only for a bit. After the floor too was clean, it was time to wipe the few dirty blades, thankfully not as many as last time. She took a dagger from its holster on the wall and carefully ran a piece of cloth over the blade, washing away dried crimson clots.

As much as it was probably a bad idea, she couldn't help throwing a subtle glance behind her at Cassandra. A few organs were placed on the table at the body’s feet, and she was taking notes in a leatherbound notebook that looked well used. The idea that she had any interest in the bodies beyond being food gave Nicole an oddly nostalgic feeling. It sent her right back in high school, when one of her friends who took art history classes was telling her all about how da Vinci used real dead bodies in order to study anatomy. Yeah, da Vinci but the more attractive versio- fuck.

She hissed and retracted her hand as she felt the sharp blade cut her wrist and almost dropped the dagger. The effort to conceal the pain was there, but useless as Cassandra was by her side in mere seconds.

"Oh did you cut yourself?" She asked with feign concern, and grabbed her hand. "Here let me help you with that."

"Oh no I'm okay really no nee-"

Nicole's words died in her throat when Cassandra stuck out her tongue and dragged it, slowly, across the cut, collecting every last drop of blood. To top it off, she let out a low moan and gave the soft skin there a small nip, successfully making the redhead’s breath hitch. Now any normal and sane person would think I still have a knife in my hand, I should use it, but Nicole would be lying to everyone and then herself if she said she didn’t have a thing for danger. And it doesn’t get much more dangerous than this, now does it.

“Mm...you taste wonderful.”

Was she supposed to thank her?

“You’re lucky you intrigue me, otherwise you would make for some fine wine.” She finished with her trademark cackle.

Oh she was definitely not getting a thanks now. Nicole rolled her eyes slightly, tugging her hand away. She was half expecting Cassandra not to release her, but instead she let go of her wrist and, with a giggle, she returned to her work without another word.

---

That night, Nicole made damn sure to wash the cut until her skin felt like it would have a permanent sensation of pins and needles. Once a bandage was securely wrapped around her wrist she sat down with a cup of tea, not quite ready to sleep yet. How ironic would it be if she died of an infection while living in a castle where people are literally turned into food and wine.

Although in all honesty, she was quite certain her death would be far more entertaining.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #fanfic #resident evil village #gore #blood

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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Too Late: Nadja & Alec (Commission for miner249er)

Second chapter of @miner249er ‘s commission!

Chapter Summary: The TVi News Special with hosts Nadja Chamack and Alec Cataldi

Previous Work

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“Don’t be bemused, it's just the news! I’m Nadja Chamack and I am joined today with Alec Cataldi. Today’s hour special brought to you by this studio is ‘The Protector Really Paris’s Protector?’ This has been a hot debate amongst blogs, forums, and many more platforms. We bring you not only the public opinion but never before seen footage of the Protector.” Nadja gave her standard intro and she tried to put as much energy in it as she could but as soon as the words left her mouth she felt sick. If the words had tastes they would have been ash. She knew her studio wasn’t the best, her akumatization was a shining example of that, but her studio teaming up with Alec Cataldi? That was bad news waiting to happen. They sprung this whole ‘special’ on her only hours before so Nadja hadn’t even been able to warn Sabine and Tom about it.

Ever since she was a little girl Nadja knew she wanted to be on TV. At first she thought she wanted to be an actor, she never thought she would become a reporter but when she did she fell in love with it. Following a story and being the one to let everyone know about it, it was a rush she sought for years. Then she had Manon, she still chased stories but she liked to think she had toned down the recklessness people told her she had before, but then Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up and her bosses demanded more of her. More shots of their fights, more close-ups of akumas, interviews with akumas, interviews with the victims, interviews with the heroes, the workload just got steeper and steeper. Of course Nadja was grateful for her city’s heroes, more than anything, Hawkmoth wasn’t just some silly villain like many thought, like her studio thought, he was a terrorist plain and simple and he had covered Paris in a blanket of fear.

Then one day he was gone, along with his accomplice Mayura, but with them was the disappearance of a girl that Nadja cared for deeply. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she had met the girl when she was a tiny little thing, a little younger than Manon when Nadja had first visited Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie Patisserie. Nadja had been just starting out at her studio at that time and she had just gotten through her first broadcast so she thought why not buy herself a little reward? A producer at the studio had actually been the one to suggest Tom & Sabine’s, she had been raving about their cakes and tarts so Nadja decided to see if they really were worth all the hype. No surprise here that they really were. What really made that day memorable besides the tasty treats was the little girl who came up to her and held out a hand to her shyly, she had never been great with kids but she did the only thing she could think of and put her hand out.

That was when she had gotten her first ‘Marinette Original’ as her parents had taken to calling her creations. It was a little hair clip with a bow on it, the bow was clearly taped onto the clip but it was precious all the same. She fondly remembered Sabine lightheartedly scolding her daughter for just making someone take something from her instead of asking if they wanted it but it was obvious the little girl didn’t fully understand. Nadja had laughed and laughed and had thanked the girl, she still had that clip, but now she had to keep it in a safe due to thieves who called themselves “modest collectors.” It pained her to see people forget the name Marinette Dupain-Cheng and only remember her as Paris’s last akuma, the Protector. It was hard enough trying to explain to Manon why mommy had to talk about Marinette on the news so much, it was harder to lie to her about when or if Marinette would come back.

Manon had taken to writing letters for Marinette to ask her to come back because she missed her. Nadja had to call into work that day, in the early hours of the morning, Manon had awoken from a nightmare and had been crying. Nadja had gone into her daughter’s room to console her when Manon caught her off guard by asking if the reason Marinette wasn’t coming back was because Manon had been bad the last time Marinette had babysat her. It had taken a long time to convince Manon that that wasn’t the case, and when Nadja got a moment alone she let herself cry and pray to anyone listening to bring Marinette back home to them.

“What do you think Nadja?” Alec’s voice ripped Nadja from her memories abruptly.

“Well-,” She started keeping her face calm though inside she was stressing, she hadn’t been paying attention to what Alec had been discussing.

“If you ask me those kids are as bad as Hawkmoth was! The talk about what happened in that classroom is all the evidence I need.” Oh so he was talking about Marinette’s classroom, or as they have been dubbed, The Akuma Class.

“That’s not evidence Alec, and you should know since you host one of the most watched shows on television, Alternative Truth.”

“That’s right Nadja! Where everything isn’t always true, but nothing is really false! But really, what is your opinion on the akuma class being the reason behind the akuma The Protector?” Alec asked as he turned to face Nadja, though not fully so the cameras would still get a good shot of him. “Many have said they were at school that day and the Protector was there to speak her truth!”

“I...I know I don’t speak for every akumatized person out there Alec, but I do know someone can be akumatized for anything. If the rumors of what went on in that class, in that school are true, then it’s no wonder Mlle Dupain-Cheng was akumatized. I don’t know if anyone would have been able to withstand that treatment.” That was the answer she settled on, she didn’t want to feed any fires and she certainly didn’t want her studio to know she knew what happened in the classroom since Sabine told her everything. Nadja swore she would do her best to keep it off-air, this was her best she reasoned to herself even if she didn’t believe it.

“Too true Nadja! I mean we’ve all seen how many times M Pidgeon got akumatized, or even Gigantitan. A literal baby. One has to wonder how sane Hawkmoth really was, which leads me to a juicy rumor! That our own resident hermit fashion designer Gabriel Agreste was the one and only Hawkmoth.” Alec announced with his usual flair and Nadja, not for the first time by any means, had to wonder how he didn’t get sued, or if he did how he never was scared of the possibility.

“That is quite the rumor Alec. Is there any legs for it to stand on?” She asked per her vague instructions given by the studio's director.

“Glad you asked Nadja! We have a video of The Protector going into the Agreste Mansion and after a period of time, leaving. Now we don’t know what happened inside but hours later we had you and your team there at the mansion along with other news stations when M Agreste and his assistant Mlle Nathalie Sancoeur were brought out of the mansion on stretchers. Then not long after, in your words,’ a dazed Mme Agreste was spotted coming out of the house.’ That was after the police search!” Nadja had to hand it to Alec, he sure knew how to run his mouth.

“I do remember that day. But how is that connected to Hawkmoth?” Now she was genuinely curious about what he was insinuating.

“Think about it Nadja, why would the Protector, an akuma who proclaimed to protect the innocent, go into the Agreste Mansion. Then later it is found that M Agreste and his assistant just so happened to be “attacked.” From the footage we have of the two on stretchers, they were in bad shape and the only one who visited them was the Protector! After that we haven’t heard from Hawkmoth or Mayura. Plus the Protector promised she would get rid of Hawkmoth for the people of Paris.”

“So you don’t believe it was just a random attack that happened at the same time that an akuma was loose in Paris?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that there are a lot of big coincidences. And I’m not saying definitively that Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth, but the rumors do make a compelling case! He had the time to himself to akumatize anyone he pleased, he had a partner, if we are inferring that Mlle Sancoeur was Mayura, and he had a motive. But again this is all speculation.”

“Speculation. Right.” Nadja could feel a familiar sense of dread in her stomach, in her chest, in her throat as she got ready to segway into her part of the special. Her and Alec would continue to go back and forth on their subjects but Nadja had been wary since they started. “Speaking of possible secret identities, recent evidence has shown us that...that may just confirm the popular rumor and theory that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, The Protector, was actually our one and only Ladybug.”

Nadja hadn’t wanted to believe it, that Marinette was Ladybug, not because she couldn’t see the girl as their hero, but because it made too much sense and that scared her. It scared her because it meant they had all placed their lives in the hands of a teenager, they had placed a responsibility that only adults should have to handle, on a child. They took a normal childhood away from her, or as normal as it could be with a villain who preyed upon emotions but the point still stood. It was weird, before Marinette had disappeared, if Nadja had seen a picture of her and Ladybug next to each other she would have said they were obviously different people, but now it was like a slap to the face because of how obviously Marinette was Ladybug and vice versa.

“Now, I know that it is a lot to process,” I’m still processing it, “but let’s go over the evidence and as promised viewers video footage of The Protector in action. This footage was donated to us by an anonymous source who had happened upon The Protector out in the open when she was akumatized. I want to warn everybody, the footage may be shocking to some viewers. Roll the clip please.” Nadja felt like the words shot out of her mouth before she could even think about them but she knew she was supposed to say them so why did they leave such a foul taste in her mouth? She couldn’t even force herself to watch the video a second time, her and Alec had to review every video or post they were going to show on the broadcast and she had barely kept it together then. Now? She felt like she was being held together by cheap scotch tape.

Even if she wasn’t watching the video she could still hear Marinette’s cries, her sobs, she lost the fight as she had a tear fall. She did her best to be discrete as she brought her handkerchief up to blot the tear away but that was a mistake. There on the edge of the handkerchief was Marinette’s signature, she forgot that she had been given it when Manon was born. It was a present from Marinette, the girl had joked it would be a help for all the tears she was crying because she had actually given birth and actually made a tiny human being. The same tiny human being who was distraught that not only was her favorite babysitter gone but Ladybug who she adored. That only caused more tears.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding Nadja...Nadja are you okay?” Alec asked, it was actually the first time she had ever heard or seen him care about anyone else other than himself and she didn’t even know if it was genuine or just for the cameras but it still got to her.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She stammered as she wiped her tears before giving the camera a practiced smile. “Now before we discuss everything in that video I will say we do have many more to share so stay tuned Paris!”

As soon as she was given the sign that they were on commercial Nadja couldn’t hold it in anymore, she let herself cry. She had tried to be so strong for Manon, for Sabine and Tom, but it was too much. She was vaguely aware of someone talking to her and pressing a box of tissues into her hands but what snapped her out was her boss’s voice. “Snap out of it Mlle Chamack we have a show to do.”

“Snap out of it?” She asked hollowly, out of her peripheral vision she could see Alec glancing between her and her boss before wiping his hands on his legs and pulling out his phone. “You sprung this on me. You knew I had connections to Marinette and her parents. That’s her name you know? Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s not just another akuma, hell she’s not Paris’s last akuma like you have named her! She is a teenager, a little girl! A little girl with a mother and a father who are probably sitting at home watching this wondering why their baby has to be seen like this!”

“The Protector is a public figure, Nadja.” Her boss lamely responded back.

“And what? That makes it right? I have worked here for a long time, I had been pressured to work harder, get the stories, get the results and I did. Never have I felt such shame. I love my job but you make me hate it. She’s a child for crying out loud! Do you not realize that? Ladybug was a child! And all you’re worried about is the story!” Nadja knew she must have sounded hysterical but it was so hard to reign in her emotions once she got started. She knew it wasn’t a rare occurrence nowadays but she hated feeling out of control. “She babysat my daughter, my daughter has been asking me everyday when Marinette, when Ladybug, will come back and I don’t have an answer. But she thinks I do because of how much I report on everything!”

“Nadja...I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” her boss began.

“No you didn’t. And you haven’t. But for once in your life think now. I can’t get through this the way you want me to. I know her, I know her parents and this is probably breaking them. So if you want me to continue reporting, let me do it my way. Or I swear I will take those job offers I have been getting recently and I won’t look back.” Nadja’s voice felt a little hoarse but she didn’t care.

No one spoke for awhile until an intern shakily told them that they would be back on-air soon. Then everything was back in motion. Alec hastily took a drink of his water while Nadja’s makeup artist came out to do touchups, she was very gentle, almost hesitant. Even though everyone was doing their best to relieve the tension in the room, Nadja’s gaze from her boss did not waver, not even for a second, even as he ran a hand over his face. There were murmurs going on, probably about the spectacle she created but she really couldn’t care less.

“...Okay Nadja...You do this how you want to. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” He finally said.

“I appreciate that.” She breathed out. “When we report on her, please just...say her name. She isn’t the Protector, she isn’t just Ladybug, she’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she is still missing. Yes, she was Paris’s last akuma but that’s not all she was. Yes she was Ladybug. Our hero who did everything to keep us safe, even when she was akumatized. She is also a daughter, a granddaughter, a friend. Not an icon. Not a celebrity. So for the love of God have some empathy. Yes we are reporters but we are more than that as well.”

Again it was quite but then there was a chorus of murmured agreements, even from her boss and Alec. She gave a firm nod at everyone as she took a deep breath to steady herself for when the cameras would be turned back to them once more. This time though she would get to talk about Marinette as more than what every other news station, magazine, newspaper, and blog had been painting her out to be. Her and Alec would still do their parts, they would still talk about what they were assigned but Nadja was determined to put more humanity into the special.

“I’m sorry Nadja. I have never thought about it the way you have. I guess I was always in the mindset of the akuma being separate? If that makes any sense?” Alec admitted.

Nadja gave him a sad smile and patted his hand. “It’s okay Alec. I understand...when I was Prime Queen...I didn’t want to believe it was me. For a long time I refused to believe it was me, but it was. The akumas are people and I think it’s time we start acting like it.”

“Yeah...yeah I think you’re right.” Alec mumbled. Nadja wasn’t sure if her words truly did anything, everyone in the TVi studio knew how Alec was, but maybe now that Hawkmoth was gone, maybe everyone could move on and grow.

Nadja turned to face the cameras when the cameraman waved to get their attention and started his countdown, when she knew the cameras were on Nadja gave them the most sincere smile she could. “Welcome back everyone, Nadja Chamack here with Alec Cataldi as we continue our special, ‘The Protector Really Paris’s Protector?’ Before we continue on I would like to start off with I lied before when I said I was fine before the commercial break. I knew Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one you all like to refer as her akuma name, before I continue on with the rest of my report I would like to tell you about her.”

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z-1-wolfe · 3 years

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Parhelion Headcanons (sir this is all for you) @greenbeany

Putting 'em under the cut because they got very long O.O

I- the gnome is Neon I take no criticism. They are often good-natured souls with a more mischievous side, and if that doesn’t describe Neon I’m not sure what does. Playful, funny, good intentions, that my good Bean is our lovable cat personified. Okay Parhelion dnd au with gnome Neon please /j.

I AM SMACKING THE GUN OUT OF YOUR HANDS [runs into a glass wall] dammit,, guess I gotta talk now

I- oh no,, time to fail the exam I guess (turns all your head canons upside down)

Okay they do sleep yes they do. Actually that’s a lie only Ciel sleeps, the other two are insomniacs. Ciel has all of her day to day life planned out to the minute, so she heads to bed at a certain time and wakes up at a certain time, the other two are more of a “we’ll sleep when we’re tired” kinda duo. Unfortunately due to Ilia’s night terrors and Neon’s ADHD they almost never rest. No they do not sleep in a SANE bed, ha why would they have a bed? They sleep in a hammock all tangled up with each other. It’s hard to tell what order they sleep in when they kinda curl into each other. They do not use a duvet, why have a duvet when Neon is a space heater? There are no pillows on the hammock X). OKAY THEIR ROOM, THIS I GOT, it’s a funky mess that is somehow organized thanks to Ciel. Ilia doesn’t own a lot in general but it was her life’s dream to paint her bedroom rainbow so guess what they have now. The other two are too soft and they supported her efforts and they love her despite her poor design sense XD.

I- why closet ASDFG I mean— No they do not share a closet they all have completely different fashion sense and if that was all in one place people would be genuinely terrified. But since they’re broke they had to make do with one walk in closet that they partitioned off into sections. YES THEY DO HAVE MATCHING OUTFITS THEY ARE SO CUTE LIKE THAT. They tend to be like those cute couple outfits with a few variations to match their own personal style. But their favorite matching outfit are these duck hoodies they own courtesy of once again Ilia living out her childhood dreams. No they don’t own many outfits because like I mentioned earlier they are broke x). Hmm thinking about each other’s styles… Ilia think both of her girlfriends have great taste, she loves the well, neon of Neon, and the prim and properness of Ciel. Neon just doesn’t care XD. And Ciel is just, she’s just standing there wishing she could help their fashion sense, but she holds back because “It does suit them in an odd way.” Ciel gets the most compliments on her style hands down, she looks organized and you can bet she saves money to buy outfits that actually accentuate her cuteness. They don’t wear makeup no time for that (in which you learn Z has little to no knowledge in how to apply makeup and doesn’t know how to answer that question)

OH OKAY I LOVE VIDDY GAMES. Ciel likes real-time strategy games because she’s insane and that’s literally all she knows in life thanks to being raised in an upper class family in Atlas. Neon likes open world games, something something she likes the chance for adventure and determining one’s fate for themself. Ilia has never once played a video game until after she defected from the White Fang but I can see her playing something light like Stardew Valley, low stakes kinda games. Hmm, they might play Animal Crossing together? Since it has aspects they all enjoy. They each have an individual switch (Ilia has a coral switch lite) and one shared PC. Okay game with most hours, maybe Minecraft? They still haven’t beat the enderdragon because Neon keeps getting distracted XD. Neon is the bomb at party games though, you can bet she has a perfect score on all the songs in Just Dance. Ciel is a sharpshooter, god knows who taught her how to shoot like that. The biggest splatoon fan is unfortunately not Neon it is Ilia, she loves all the colors in the game ^^. But she and Neon have wracked up quite a few hours in co-op.

Uhhh books!! Ilia likes fanfics :) it’s unfortunately one of the only ways for her to see positive representation of herself. Neon for some reason reads Epics?? Like her favorite is the Epic of Gilgamesh what is up with that?? Ciel reads webtoons :), she reads enough serious stuff for school work and such, she likes to just kick back and relax after all that. Yes they have schedules reading time courtesy of Ciel :). Uhh, they relax by baking together. None of them had many chances to indulge in sweets while growing up so they make full use of their time now. ?? SPOON?? Cuddle hours happen on a whim, the one thing that Ciel can never schedule because she never knows when it’ll occur. They relax the most in the kitchen x) because that’s where they bake, it’s not unusual to find Neon asleep on the counter while she waits for their sweets to rise. They read in the light, Neon is afraid that by reading in the dark that they’ll all ruin their eyesight. Ciel likes the sunrise because she’s up the earliest and is the only one to see it, the other two prefer sunset because that’s usually when their day is about to begin XD.

Favorite spot for dates! The park ^^, they like to go on picnic dates with all their baked goods. There is no plan, usually one of them will randomly pull the other two out of the house because they haven’t touched grass in a while XD. There are no ideas, they share one braincell and they spend too much time doting on each other to use it. Uhm favorite movie genre,,, they like comedy movies :). Their favorite place to eat is this tiny store on the corner of their street that makes mean gyros, they heccin’ love them. Coping with horror, Ilia is desensitized to horror because of the things she’s seen in life, Neon treats it like a game because she knows it’s not real, Ciel, is okay with it, but she gets shook more easily than the other two and they often have to reassure her. No they do not like theme parks, there are too many people around for Ilia and Ciel and Neon respects their boundaries so they tend to go to more quiet places. Uhm heights, Ciel is used to heights because she’s friends with Penny and woah can that girl toss her in the air like she’s a couple of grapes. Ilia doesn’t mind heights but she would prefer to have her feet on the ground. Neon loves the ground so damn much if it leaves her she will cry because man she can’t roller-skate in the air can she, what will she do if the ground is suddenly gone? They like evening dates because it’s normally the only time all three of them are awake enough for it XD. They end a night by sleeping I am not quite sure if there are other ways to end it lmao. They absolutely despise Neon’s roller skating dates but they love how excited she gets about them so they end up becoming as good as professional roller skaters because the smile on Neon’s face when they join her is dazzling.

I am slowly going insane. Yes each girl has a hobby I sure hope they do. Ilia knits, Ciel paints, and Neon writes. I would like to imagine that Ciel would try to schedule time for their hobbies she ends up giving up because all their sleep schedules are wack. Designated chef is Neon (probably made food for FNKI back in atlas), designated driver is Ilia (I mean I like to imagine she stole cars and stuff in the White Fang XD), designated decorator for stuff is normally Ciel though Neon does try to hijack a few of her plans occasionally, designated shopper is Ciel because the other two have no concept of Saving money, and they all work together to clean :). They don’t work together, they believe in keeping their work life and home life separate to prevent their feelings from getting in the way. They do not have pets, none of them have the energy or responsibility to do that, but Ilia did once bring a moose home one day for some reason.

I am nomming on your arm sir. Ilia and Neon get along with Penny surprisingly well, though I do think Ilia would get along with Weiss better? Ruby and Weiss look at Ciel and see a beacon arc Weiss and more or less adopt her despite Ciel being older than the two of them. They might like.. play board games together? Like some of those more team based board games I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, may the best polycule win. I cannot see them in a cuddle puddle to be honest ajcnjsanjs I am so sorry— hmm Ruby and Neon do not know the meaning of formal, as far as they are concerned these are their girlfriend’s friends and that means that by extension these are their friends. Weiss would like nothing to do with Neon after Neon insults Yang during the Vytal festival but she begrudgingly goes on outings with her and hey, now they’re make up buddies for some reason. The parhelion gals take the fs gals to the gyro place they like :). Parhelion gang Is a lot more vocal on their dates because their love language happens to be words of affirmation while the fs gang’s happen to be physical touch. Both polycules are very very affectionate though I will die on this hill.

DARN IT TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME HAVE 10 IMAGES PER POST THIS IS FINE IT WAS JUST ONE MORE PROMPT DARN IT

(Parhelion angst! How do Neon and Ciel react to the news about the dust mine? How do they find out about Ilia getting expelled? Do they find out about the white fang? Is there any faunus stigma afterwards? How does Ciel react to people bullying her Faunus GFS? Does Neon talk to Ciel much after? Do they ever reunite? Does Neon attempt to help Ciel while she grieves Penny? Where the fuck is Ciel now? Is Neon still alive? Does Ilia ever think about them? Does Blake know about them from Ilia?)

BUDDY I CAME TO THE LAST ASK AND NOW ONLY DID I REALIZE YOU MEANT PARHELION BACK WHEN THEY WHERE IN BEACON THIS WHOLE TIME I’M CRYING. (This ask is answered under the assumption that they are already dating back in Atlas Academy) Ciel is fiercely protective of her girlfriends, though people only know that Neon is a Faunus because Ilia masks her traits during her time at the academy. Neon and Ciel are horrified about the news about the dust mines. They know that Ilia is a Faunus and that her parents were working there so they rush to see her as soon as possible. But they’re too late,,, Ilia’s already been expelled for attacking her fellow students. They don’t hear from Ilia for a few years after that and the two slowly drift apart, each blaming the other for not getting to Ilia soon enough. They don’t find out about the White Fang until they reunite with Ilia unfortunately, but they feel sad that Ilia had felt that they only way for her to get revenge for her parents was by joining a militant group (I’m working under the assumption that Sienna only took control of the White Fang shortly before Ilia joined). When Neon learns that Penny didn’t make it after the Fall of Beacon she hesitantly reaches out to Ciel for the first time in a year, and she does try to help. But for Ciel it’s blow after heccin’ blow and she pushes Neon away in a rage. Ciel leaves the Academy after that and goes rogue, working as a huntsman without a license for the poorer parts of remnant. Ilia is unaware of all this drama during the Beacon arc. The next time she hears of any news is during the Fall of Atlas, and she’s scared, scared because she’s still recovering and she just heard Ruby announce to the world that Remnant is under attack, and oh my gosh her ex girlfriends live in Atlas. Neon makes it out alive, though not entirely in one piece, she now has a prosthetic leg. Ilia is the first person to see her, it’s a tearful reunion and they haven’t fully made up yet, but hey it’s a work in progress, now they just have to find out where Ciel is, but when they do they’ll BOTH be there to greet her. Blake has no idea who the fuck Ciel and Neon are lmao, Ilia never told her anything about her past romances when she was in the White Fang.

Oh gosh I think that's it-- And that is it thank you for listening to me ramble about Parhelion you get a juice box for making it this far. Sir I am sincerely sorry for turning your ship upside down please forgive me.

#parhelion #ilia amitola #ciel soleil #neon katt #I have been typing for an eternity n' a half...#I swear I have essays for school that are a fraction of this post #2172 words of pure headcanon you are welcome sir #I hope you'll enjoy it when ya wake up sjancjkack #[runs]#zenta writes

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fanfoolishness · 4 years

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in the long night (Hawke x Varric)

Written for @oneshallop and also up on AO3. They requested Hawke and Varric on the Deep Roads expedition with some early hints of pining. I hope it fits the bill! 2836 words, Hawke, Varric, Act 1 of DA2.

***

It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought. Of course it was dark. It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it?

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago. There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night. They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that. The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark. It disquieted him. He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support. Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching. He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath.

This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out , he thought sourly. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level. Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings. He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side. He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow. Safe. He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled.

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him. Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes. “I could ask the same of you. Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards? No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away. This was a good distraction. “You really think Bartrand managed to convince quality muscle to come along with us? Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline. “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition. Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away. “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem. I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue. Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing. Such as yourself, partner.”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well. “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.” She bent over the fire, concentrating. It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric.

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor. “It’s unnatural.” Then she glanced at him. “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands. “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human. Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously.

“Born and raised,” said Varric. “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid. They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface. My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move. Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.” He gazed into the fire. Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening. “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.” She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Family. Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?” Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke. He liked that about her. Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled. “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother. He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight. It’s our fighting, right? That’s the important bit.” She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all family name and getting ahead, all Brother, you have to take this seriously or they’ll eat you alive. He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously. “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers. For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones. “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother. Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back. Eh. Not much difference.

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say. You never talk about the other twin that way. But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings. At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten. It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it..

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes. If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered. He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed. “You never did say what you were doing out here. Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily. “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore. She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes. Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark. You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered. Or was he blushing? He wasn’t sure. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away. “This is why I like traveling with you. You’re right. If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.” She let out a long breath. “Ah, thanks for that. I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest. A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully. Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words. Why was he thinking of Bianca now? He shook his head. “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here. I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded. “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent. Didn’t feel right to let it go out. So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric. He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice. It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know. Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.” She shrugged. “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here. I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric. He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily. “Felt sorry for the poor fellow. I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown. ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed. “Good point. Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it? Not Darktown, obviously. Kirkwall,” said Hawke. “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now? It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered. He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died. Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns. But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her darkened eyes.

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly. “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras! You’ve gone insane.’”

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke. “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks. Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive. “I suppose,” she said. She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes. “Hmph. Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously. He’d had her cooking before. Carver’s was far and away the better meal.

“I’ve been saving these. For a special occasion, as it were.” She rummaged in the pack beside her. “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise. The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue.

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped. “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said. “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.” She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial. “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall. The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside. The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price? Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them. Don’t know why.”

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest. He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense. Bartrand would have scoffed. But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric. “They’re yours. You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say. Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke. She shoved the biscuits at him. “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right. If you insist. Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.” He reached out and took the top biscuit. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand. The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.” Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes. “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit. It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth. He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate. He paused, savoring it. “Damn. No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit. Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows. He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket. Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark. It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide.

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly. “The fire’s a good one, Hawke. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why. “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric. “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours? Of course I do,” she said. She gave him a tired smile. “All right, then. I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same. It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion. It’d be a crying shame. We’d never live it down,” said Varric. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted. He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up. “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem. See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said. “But I’ll see you then.” She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling. The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps. He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this. He knew it now in his bones. Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time. No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly. Yeah. He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet. His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed. He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.

#hawke x varric #hightown funk 2020 #hightown funk #varric x hawke #dragon age 2 #varric tethras

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septembersghost · 3 years

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You are literally the only person I have seen on all of Tumblr who has sane, non-horrifying things to say about this whole mess, thank you.

I'm so upset by how the vast majority of people (going by note counts on post) aka destiel and cockles fans are celebrating this situation between Jared and Jensen and act all thrilled and ecstatic about it. Meanwhile, the J2/Jared stand have all turned into Jensen hate blogs, which I find equally upsetting.

Whether you like Jared or not (and I'm not his biggest fan either), fact is that he and Jensen were very close for a very long time and something like this would hurt like hell. This is a very close friendship and bond between two actual human beings breaking apart here and that is bound to be very painful and certainly not something to cheer for. I know it would absolutely kill me if I were in Jared's position, I'd be crying my eyes out. He probably is too, going by the description of that one fight they had back in S2 that they've talked about, which also ended with Jared crying. I disagree with Jared carrying this out over Twitter instead of immediately calling Jensen or texting him, but even though I've always been a Dean and Jensen girl at heart, the way Jensen apparently handled this was... not great and I have a hard time understanding how it got that far.

My only theory is that Jared had no idea just how deeply upset and angry Jensen was about how everything went down with the end of SPN and Jensen has been silently stewing for months. When the S15 DVD box set was released and Jared said that "I know Jensen bristled a little about it" line about the finale, followed by Jensen unenthusiastically telling the floor "yeah, sure, I didn't hate it..." I remember thinking "Bristled a little bit? Sounds like a serious amount of downplaying Jensen's feelings. Do you truly believe that, Jared?"

Like, I don't even follow SPN that closely anymore, but even I noticed how conflicted and unhappy Jensen was in multiple interviews about the ending of the show, even months before the finale. And Jensen is always very professional under normal circumstances and tends to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself, so I thought it was highly unusual that he let his true feelings shine through so obviously. Then his silence about the finale, except for one sarcastic post and his silence ever since, not taking part in the videos and promotions you'd expect him to also take part in as one of the two main characters of the show, talking about a reboot and how Dean would get bored in heaven only 5 months after the show ended during that panel (talking about a reboot so soon (and even earlier before the show even ended iirc) always struck me as rather weird)... I always felt a lot of tension and unhappiness from Jensen in all of this and Jared must have seriously underestimated how much this meant to Jensen and I think Jensen may have felt let down (or even stabbed in the back, since we're going all Et tu brute? apparently) by Jared when Jensen tried to get the ending changed, but Jared clearly didn't support him because the thought it was perfect (urgh).

I don't even know anymore where I'm going with this and sorry for ranting, I just think it's very sad to see and even worse to see how peopl are reacting to it. I hope they can work things out between them, I don't want either one of them to be in pain and I think they both are right now.

oh anon :( thank you for sending this. I empathize with you completely. it makes my heart ache to see people rejoicing in what looks like a painful situation, or rooting for the downfall of a friendship, it's so lacking in any sort of compassion that I can't even wrap my mind around it. it's like the worst form of schadenfreude, and there's nothing to warrant it. it's too mean-spirited for me. I have not been able to reconcile some of the cruel and petty behavior from varying sides of fandom with the show and characters I love and am trying to protect/hold onto for many months now (if not longer, in my previous haunts on Tumblr). acting like this is some sort of sick burn and a win is awful. mocking someone for being blindsided and hurt is awful. (and I don't mean silly meme humor posts, which are to be expected - some of what is happening is WAY beyond that and is celebration of someone being hurt and that doesn't sit well with me.) acting like this is a reason to turn into mindless hate blogs/tweets and to burn someone to the ground - and this before we even know what's really happening, not that anything makes that fandom behavior acceptable - is also awful. it's all just really upsetting.

the lack of consideration/empathy or even measured responses startles me, as if they're not real people who have been through a lot, who have openly and publicly shared a lot of things for many years, especially about their bond and friendship, so seeing anything happen to that is tough. and having a friend hurt you is one of the worst kinds of heartbreak. it's hard to recover from it, and it's especially going to be raw the MOMENT it happens, and most of us don't have that moment in front of millions of eyes. truth be told, I cried for him, for them. (granted, I am an overly sensitive weepy. but still.) completely agree with you that he's probably incredibly hurt and having an instantaneous emotional reaction, and it's very hard to control that kind of a response when you're put in a sudden position. I wish he hadn't carried it out on Twitter, but I also wish Jensen hadn't made a public announcement on Twitter without giving him a very quick heads up (I refuse to believe he couldn't text him even, like, five minutes ahead of time to let him know the press release was happening. that might still have really hurt him, but then whatever happened between them in the conversation would've been private? he was blindsided publicly and responded publicly, it's unfortunate, but I really do get it).

even though I've always been a Dean and Jensen girl at heart, the way Jensen apparently handled this was... not great and I have a hard time understanding how it got that far. this absolutely.

Jensen has confused me since March when he started enthusiastically hailing the finale and said what he said about Dean (which put a permanent crack in my mind between him and my feelings about/interpretation of Dean as a person), he's been almost too effusive in telling everyone how great it was and how much he loved it after how he struggled with it (literally calling himself the finale's #1 fan was a choice), and we do know he had difficulties with it. I don't know if that was his way of making peace with it or compartmentalizing it? he had to adjust and deal with it somehow, and he's been adamant about his pride in the show and their legacy, so his early qualms are very hard to parse now, and come across more as upset at the permanence of it and the idea of the boys being separated for that length of time. obviously we have no idea what went on behind-the-scenes or how Jensen dealt with his initial feelings, but if he was that upset and angry and has let it fester, he...needed to talk it out or let Jared know or something. maybe he thought he couldn't for professional reasons. it kills me because there was nothing he or they could do about it. I know, from the bits they've told us, that Jared accepted it more quickly, so maybe Jensen didn't feel like he could speak up, but we also know that they went into the writers' room and were told they had absolutely no say in the ending (which I'm still fuming about myself). I didn't see the clip you reference from the boxset (only because I haven't watched any of the S15 extras due to my own hurt surrounding it), but I believe your description of it. I think almost everyone, from the S15 writers to Kripke to the cast themselves, maybe even Jensen himself, downplayed Jensen's emotional response to what happened - and things like that can absolutely bubble over after a period of time if you don't deal with them.

even I noticed how conflicted and unhappy Jensen was in multiple interviews about the ending of the show, even months before the finale. And Jensen is always very professional under normal circumstances and tends to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself, so I thought it was highly unusual that he let his true feelings shine through so obviously. yes. I've talked about this several times in the past, but his distress was absolutely palpable initially, and it scared me right away and hung like a fog over the entirety of S15 as I watched it, until the worst of the fears I had were crushingly realized. he said repeatedly it unsettled him, he seemed to be really grappling with it, he was told he was "too close" to it. as many times as he said he was proud of them last year, it wasn't until earlier this year that he more fully changed his tune, and said he couldn't be happier with the ending. I wondered if maybe enough had happened/time had passed to give him a sense of closure, but it's hard to say, especially given what's just taken place. he's also said some starkly contradictory things, which is something else we tend to do when grieving and trying to make sense of whatever loss has taken place (he said he was happy with the ending in one breath, and it had to be that way, and only a few minutes later was talking about a reboot and Dean being bored in heaven. the thoughts don't entirely align) - but he spoke about bringing Dean back basically from the announcement of the ending, including the video he posted the day the finale aired (which is burned into my brain) of him lacing up Dean's boots for the "last" time and his insistence that it's not goodbye forever. it seems like he's had a lot of conflicting emotions over how all of that transpired. it's baffling to me why he wouldn't just SAY that, even if there was nothing he could do about it, to his closest friend and co-star of fifteen years (I want to be like, "BOYS! JUST TALK OMG!" not to trivialize it but. boys...). Jared thinking it was great baffles me too (Jared actually always had good insights into Sam so...I don't get how he was cool with that). they poured so much of themselves into that last episode - the moments of it that are true and deeply felt are because of them - but I imagine it was harrowing psychologically and emotionally.

I always felt a lot of tension and unhappiness from Jensen in all of this and Jared must have seriously underestimated how much this meant to Jensen and I think Jensen may have felt let down this is absolutely possible, not that it excuses...personally and professionally hurting someone in return. it's a mess. don't be sorry for ranting, I hear you on all of this. I just think it's very sad to see and even worse to see how people are reacting to it. indeed. 💔

I was just telling a friend that when I was reading the TV Guide yesterday morning, this quote of Jared's really stood out to me - he said: "Sam to some degree doesn't exist without Dean. It was an honor for me to play the reluctant hero, with Jensen as a swashbuckler." my main takeaway from it is that he knew, as Jensen did, how much those characters were to one another and informed the story, and both of them have always expressed such appreciation and love for the other that it's...not only confusing seeing this, it's saddening. I know we're all made aware of parasocial relationships these days, but just from a human perspective and someone who's cared about them for a decade and a half, I hope they'll be okay, and I hope whatever's happening can be mended. the last thing I would wish on either of them, after they brought a light to my life all these years, is any pain, and it hurts to think of either of them suffering right now, after all they gave and sacrificed and invested in the show for such a significant portion of their lives, after all they shared with each other, and after what they gave to many in the audience seeking a place where we could find bravery and strength and the comfort of unbreakable bonds, even in a dark and frightening world. their friendship in the real world was an extension of that, and I'm wishing them both any healing that they may need.

#anonymous #letterbox #this was really nice of you and i appreciate it #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #supernatural

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

Text

Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

youtube

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

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aflower-exe · 4 years

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The Night We Met

[a/n: oo this is a bit longer than usual so the author’s note is at the beginning. This lil collection of blurbs is inspired by The Night We Met by Lord Huron. If you look at the red words you can see that lol. Just an fyi the bold italic words are kinda a narration to the blurbs. Idk i had this idea while manic one morning and i refuse to change it. Anyways I literally wrote this at 12:53 am so enjoy and please forgive any errors.]

Falling in love while young can be a beautiful thing. So full of passion and romance and excitement.

It can start of so sweet;

“I had all of you come here today because we have an announcement” Lia said. Everyone at the dinner table was on the edge of their seat. A few of the people you knew but most of the faces at the table were completely unfamiliar. When you’d arrived, you quickly surveyed the room looking for someone you know to hide behind while Lia was busy.

After finding another friend of yours to chat with, you spy a tall dark haired man out of the corner of your eye. His crisp suit and regal posture sent chills down your spine. You did your best to look his way in hopes of getting no attention, but every attempt fell short. By the time you’d sat down, you’d completely forgotten about the savvy man. Instead, you focused on the news that your best friend and her boyfriend were eagerly waiting to unveil.

“We’re pregnant” Chen exclaims. “Well, she’s pregnant. I’m gonna be a dad!”

The table erupted with cheers. Of course you had already known. You were the one with your best friend in the bathroom as she cried over the two tiny red lines. But it was still nice to hear it out loud. The couple was young, foolhardy, and unwed but you knew their bond was stronger than anyone else's. You admired their compatibility and often envied their happiness. Nonetheless, you were happy for them. So you put a smile on your face and clapped and cheered like the rest of the lot

After the cheering and dinner were coming to an end, many of the guests found themselves congregating in small groups with friends old and new. In the midst of the mass chaos, you had found yourself standing alone in the corner of the room. Normally, you’d flock to your best friend, but she was caught up im the duties of a hostess. You watched her prance around the room eagerly accepting private congratulations.

“Is this seat taken?” You turn around to see a handsome looking man with a vaguely familiar mess of dark locks. At first, you were shocked that he would even look your way, but you shook off the brief moment of self-consciousness and tried to reply with a quip

“Well, I mean, there’s no chairs. So…” The confusion you felt had now transformed into amusement. His lines were cute, but you knew he could do better.

“Yeah you’re right that was stupid. Let me start over. I’m Chanyeol” Chanyeol stuck his hand out towards you, a lopsided smile planted on his face.

“I’m y/n” You said, taking his hand reluctantly. It wasas if electricity sparked from your hands as they touched His hands were large but seem to fit with yours perfectly. His lips were twisted in a wholesome smile. Gazing into his eyes was like looking into a warm cup of coffee and you swore you could get lost in them forever. At that moment it was as if stars had collided. You didn’t believe in soulmates before, but that was about to change...

And as you approach your lovers high you’ll seem unstoppable. It will be as if you could fight off the entire world with the power of your love alone;

“I can’t believe i planned a whole picnic and now it’s ruined” You frowned. You could see from the tree you were hidden under that your blue gingham blanket was now soaked and the food that you stayed up all night making was unsalvageable. “And then most upsetting of all, you don’t seem to care”.

Chanyeol only chuckled. “It’s only a little rain.” His response only deepened your frown.

When Chanyeol noticed your expression he tsked, “I think you need to learn to go with the flow.” Knowing you would give a cynical reply, Chanyeol chose not to wait for you to respond. Instead, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the rain. You squealed at the feeling of the cold droplets colliding with your skin. He pulls your body flush against his and places his hand on the small of your back.

“Care to dance?” He asks, a playful smirk appearing on his face.

“To what music?” The lack of music didn’t actually bother you, but you were always eager to tease. You were ready with quips about how cliché the moment was when Chanyeol dipped his head down so that his lips were inches from your ear and began to sing. You didn’t know what the song was and frankly you didn’t care. You’re feet synchronized with the rhythm of his song and you began to dance. Suddenly nothing else mattered. It was as if you were the only people in the world. You closed your eyes and took in the moment.

It’s memories like these that you wouldn’t trade for the world. Even now….

But then it seems to turn around;

The tension had almost become unbearable. And it wasn't good, sexy, fun tension that Chanyeol and you used to have. No. This was different. It was heavy with guilt and anger and accusations. Being the mature adult he was Chanyeol decided to feign ignorance in hopes of avoiding the inevitable. Your subtle slamming of the door and passive aggressive glances, he could look past. But the silent treatment? That he couldn’t ignore. “Alright, what’s going on?” Chanyeol asks. He watched as you leaned against the wall and fiddled with your fingers, doing everything to avoid his eye

“Nothing” You responded curtly. Chanyeol knew you were lying. He knew everything about you. After a year and a half of dating, Chanyeol could point out every freckle, birthmark, and scar with his eyes closed. Though he loved to study your curves and curls, Chanyeol also studied your little mannerisms. At this point, Chanyeol suspected he could register as a y/n-expert. While he believed he was perfectly attuned to your every thought, as he stood there in the living room of your shared apartment he could have been more confused by you.

“Why did you even invite me to dinner if you were going to flirt with all the other girls there. And why were there even other girls there? What’s the point of going on a date with me if you’re barely going to speak two words to me” The words spew endlessly out of your mouth.

“Wait, are you getting mad at me for taking you out to dinner? Because that’s bullshit”

“You didn’t take me out to dinner you invited me to join you for dinner. There’s a difference”

“And why are you nagging me about talking to other girls? It’s my job.”

“Oh so now it’s your job to flirt with everyone?”

“Yes. I mean no. It’s my job to be sociable”

“Oh sure. Just like last week it was your job to go out for drinks with those girls”

“Exactly! See the wouldn’t be a problem to any sane person”

“Sane? So, what? I'm insane now?”

“Well right now you’re insanely overdramatic”

”And you’re selfish, egotistical, and have no regard for my feelings”

“Oh my god you are so much work” Chanyeol was on fire now. You always managed to do that: bring out the worst in him. And once it was out it wasn’t going to stop. “Sometimes...”

“Say it.” You seethe. You know you shouldn’t push him. You know what’s on the inside of that soft, caring exterior. But part of you is just as egged on as he is and you wouldn’t stop until you’d won.

“Sometimes I want to just leave. Take my shit and go. Sometimes I wish we’d never met.” Chanyeol knew he shouldn’t have said that. He knew as it rolled off his lips and he knew as he stormed out of the apartment. He knew it probably hurt your feelings. Not because it was mean, but because it was true. And he knew you could tell it was true. And the worst part of it all was that he didn’t regret saying it one bit.

While Chanyeol was out at who knows where doing who knows what, you had found yourself staring at your bedroom door, waiting. Usually your fights would end in glorious make-up sex, or passionate i-love-you-please-forgive-me-kisses. So you waited. You watched the door, waiting for him to come barging in, ready to take back the things he said. When your eyes got tired of waiting you let your ears take over. You jumped at every little sound only to feel slight disappointment when it didn’t end up being the sound of a turning door. You waited, and waited, and waited. Until eventually your tired body didn’t feel like waiting anymore. And for once, neither did you.

And as you come down from your high you’ll realize why love is such a dangerous drug. Because now that you’ve had a taste you need more, and that same old love just doesn’t do it for you anymore...;

In the beginning of the relationship when you two would fight, you could feel your blood boiling. You felt so many emotions. And now, as you aimlessly twirled the engagement ring on your finger, you felt none. Part of you was scared of what that meant. The other part of you knew. The well had run dry. You were out of patience. Out of cares to give. Out of love.

The Chanyeol you once loved was seemingly dead and gone and he was now replaced by a mature shell of his former self. Occasionally you could see the fun-loving, playful man you fell in love with. You could see it in his smile. You could hear it in his laugh. You could feel it in his soft touches. You could taste it in his lingering kisses. But once the smile faded, and the laugh subsided, and the touches stopped, and the kisses ended, the man you knew was gone like a ghost in the wind.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.” You had finally found the courage to say what you had both been thinking. After months of “it will get better” and days of “maybe he’s tired” you finally decided it was time for your relationship’s timely end.

Though Chanyeol said nothing his silence spoke for him. He agreed. The room was quiet. And the only thing that could be heard, was your record playing in the background,, “Take me back to the night we met…”

Falling in love while young can be a beautiful thing. For you it was a beautiful thing: full of stolen glances and dances in the rain. But it was also full of missed calls, and slammed doors. See that’s the thing with young love. You fall in love with someone before they even know who they are. Before you know who you are. The two of you fell in love before you had the chance to find out what love was. When all is said and done you wouldn’t dream of taking back those moments. So while you may never again have the the feeling of Chanyeol’s hand in yours, or the sound of his laugh echoing through your apartment, or the taste of his kiss on your lips, you’ll always have the night you met.

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eccl3ctic0n3 · 3 years

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This Is My Personal Testimony of How God Found Me When I Was Lost.

I Am A Witness and My Testimony is of Jesus Christ the living Word of God

What you FEEL and what you THINK are valid and extremely powerful as these are the things you BELIEVE to be TRUTH thus this is your REALITY!

This is your belief system. Unless you suffer from mental illness therapy and counseling can be very helpful. Just talking about it and getting it off your chest is therapeutic in itself. No matter if it is a friend or a therapists getting things out instead of bottling them up and holding them in is great relief.

I was diagnosed bipolar type I when I was 23 years old. I am 41 now and it has only been in the last 5 years that I have been able to overcome, heal, grow, and experience breakthrough.

Traumatic experiences such as verbal, mental, emotional, physical, or sexual abuse to losing a loved one or friend has a lifelong affect. Therapy and medicine are just tools to help you and give you the skills, knowledge, and some understanding, so you can cope and learn how to manage with the pain and symptoms that remain.

I don't know who needs to hear this but I am telling you from 18 years of personal experience. Actually, 41 years as its only been 18 since I began treatment. Where doctors and medicine failed me for 13 years God did not fail me. I got lab ratted on all that time with powerful psychiatric medications. I spiraled out of control and my behavior landed me in the psychiatric ward of prison in the infirmary. 10 weeks I was locked in solitary confinement on 24 hour lock. I was deemed incompetent and unfit to stand trial. I was looking at two F1 Felonies with sentences from 5-99 years each. For 10 weeks I literally lost my mind and was experiencing full blown psychosis. It was in an instant that God found me and restored me to sanity. I did not find God. He found me.

I was lost and could not tell the difference between my dreams and reality. I slept in 15 minute intervals. In one dream I dreamt that I murdered my two children. I bashed my daughters head into the wall. My reality was this place I was in where no other person is visible was like a purgatory and I was awaiting my judgment to be thrown into hell.

I was on my knees in my boxers bleeding from my head and knuckles. I was head butting and punching the walls. As I was on my knees I was singing, ''My Girl, My Girl, Talkin Bout, My Girl." I was only thinking of my daughter and that I was never going to see her again.

The guy in a cell next to me screamed, " Shut the fuck up!" I just screamed back and told him to come on over and shut me up. What was he going to do we are in solitary confinement. 😅

I lost track of time and I was still singing and I began to cry out to God. Literally bawling and begging I screamed for God to help me. Don't you know the guy who cursed me came to my door and asked me to call his momma for him to bail him out. I laughed and said ain't you the same mother fucker who told me to shut up? Before he answered I just said whatever! Just write the number on a piece of paper and slide it under my door and I will get to it.

Mind you that for those 10 weeks I could not even read or use the telephone because I just didn't know how. The hands on the clock just spun round and round. Still on my knees sobbing I noticed the piece of paper slide under my door. I forgot all about it and I couldn't read or use a phone anyway. But I looked closer and I seen the red writing. This guy tore the last page of his bible out to write the number on. The red writing just caught my eyes and the first thing I seen was this. Revelations 22:16 I Jesus, have sent My angel to you to testify in the churches. I am the Root and Offspring of David, the Bright and Morning Star. As fast as you could snap your fingers I realized that I could read first of all. I then noticed I felt completely normal. I was just wondering wtf am I doing in my boxers bleeding on this floor? 😅 I got up took a shower and cleaned up. The guard came by and stopped giving me a strange look and asked if I was ok. I just said Im fine Im waiting on lunch its almost noon. I could read the time cause the hands stopped spinning.

Finally I got to use the phone and I called home and asked how long I was there. I said 2 weeks? My mom said you been there almost 3 months. I did 6 months and got both charges dropped down to a misdemeanor and 4 years probation. 2 years was deferred. I literally signed out of jail on a PR Bond. No fines, fees, or court costs at all.

That was 5 years ago in October. I never could forget or deny what happened. I knew immediately what the verse meant and what I was told to do. So I have done it this entire time everyday almost on social media.

I had never read a bible before and I was far away from God. I was really on the fence about the whole Jesus thing. What I know now and I knew at that moment was this. Jesus is God! He is the Father, the Son of God, and the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of God and of Christ. There is only one. Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and Sovereign Lord over all of creation.

I believe the words of the verse exactly for what they said. He sent an angel to me which is a ministering spirit and a messenger. I got the message loud and clear. So I do exactly as He has told me to.

It has been 5 years and I have not even had a cold. My doctor is weaning me off medications. It was by no means an easy 5 years at all. I suffered with overcoming addiction and the mental illness symptoms I was and still am learning to cope and manage.

There is one thing I learned in addition to all these things since then in talk therapy. I was raised by two narcissistic, one mentally ill, and completely abusive except sexually.

After all those years and all those medications and numerous doctors did not do for me what the Great Physician did in a moment of time.

Don't get me wrong. God has revealed to me that He has gifted these doctors, nurses, therapists, and the scientists or chemists that make these medications. Give or take these crooked sons of bitches.

Just know that God is Hope. Faith or Belief and any good thing at all about man is of God. He is Love. How is Jesus God? All things are possible with God. Just trust Him. Don't worry or be afraid. He has commanded us to be strong and courageous for He is with us wherever we go. He will never leave us or forsake us. He is faithful to keep His word. If He said it. He meant it. It is the Truth. Jesus said His words are Spirit and Truth. These words are Life and Jesus is the Way. The one and only true living God is the living Word of God. He was manifest in the flesh. The holy bible has been tampered with by man and today even more with hundreds of versions. However, man is foolish to think he could ever stop the Power of the Spirit and Truth that is the Word of God Jesus Christ.

Is the Father the Son or the Spirit? Is He 3 in one or one in 3? Don't split hairs with vain debates and argumentative subjects that no man can answer. There are simply things of God that man will never understand. Our finite minds cannot imagine, fathom, dream, or even comprehend the great things of God. He just said don't trip. I got this. Be still and know. Trust Me and Believe In Me. Have Faith! Never give up Hope. Without Hope this Life has no purpose and we have meaning at all. There is just certain death. Then we are worm food.

If it is all just a big story and we die only to find out that's it just black and nothing then fine with me. If we die and it is true and we chose not to simply believe and have the faith the size of a mustard seed. We'd be cursing ourselves not God from hell forever. We would know He was right and we have no defense or a word to say before the righteous Judge.

Life and death. Facts. Choose life or death. It is the most logical, reasonable, sane, and simple choice for anyone in their right mind. So anyone who says its blind faith and completely disregards facts, logic, or reason. You know just as God says. He has used the foolishness of this world for His wisdom. He makes those who are wise in their own eyes, puffed up with pride, and too stubborn or hard hearted to simply admit they do not know. Men fear what they do not know. Rightfully so. You should fear God. Both revere and be a very afraid of the One that can take your life and cast your soul into hell. He gives and takes away. Simple as that.

So remember no matter what the situation or circumstances shit is just temporary. All good things must come to an end. As do the bad. So suck it up, be strong and courageous. Has He not commanded us? He is with you wherever and nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.

To anyone suffering right now I am by no means minimizing your pain. I feel you 1000% You don't have to believe a word from me. Just know there is someone who is always with you and you are not helpless or alone. You may be weak and in complete darkness that seems like hell. God is light in the darkness. He has the keys to death and hell. So weather life or death, heaven or hell. You gotta trust and believe in Jesus. If not it is your own doing. Most of our problems are self inflicted we bring em on ourselves.

This may be the hardest part for me to tell someone in depression just dwelling and can't let go. Do you know what depression is. It is YOUR THOUGHTS and YOUR FEELINGS. It is therefore YOUR BELIEF and thus YOUR REALITY!

This is self-centeredness. Depression for a while that is justified is one thing. Wallowing in SELF-PITY with the attitude WOE IS ME. MY LIFE SUCKS and nobody understands or knows what I I I am going through. No one could possibly relate to YOUR SUPERIOR PROBLEMS! GET OUT OF YOURSELF for a while. Have an attitude of gratitude. You are alive and if you can feel emotions and you woke up today then you KNOW that you are alive. LIFE is a gift from of GOD. He so loved all of us that He GAVE HIS LIFE so that anyone who BELIEVES in HIM Should Not Perish...SHOULD NOT! But HAVE RIGHT NOW AS IN THIS PRESENT MOMENT. EVERLASTING LIFE. God gave us HOPE of ETERNAL LIFE the FREE GIFT of SALVATION is the LORD OUR GOD JESUS CHRIST the ONLY BEGOTTEN of the EVERLASTING FATHER the King of Israel is the Holy One (Christ) or Anointed (Messiah) our SAVIOR and REDEEMER. Not by might nor by power but by that Holy Spirit of PROMISE which is the PLEDGE of our inheritance.

The only reason one would die when God gave us His Life so that anyone whomsoever at all Believes. The Way is the Truth and He has become our Salvation. He is the very HOPE, FAITH, and LOVE that abides forever. LOVE being the greatest. No one SHOULD die. It is a choice!!! Just like you choose to wake up and be grateful saying Thank You God. Bless you Lord Jesus for the Spirit translated "Breath or Air" of Life and the LIGHT we all see and we have heard the word of God preached and proclaimed to us all. So no one has an excuse to even say I Dont Believe! That is our free will and choice. Another gift from God. He wants you to choose Jesus and dont worry but be happy. Rejoice!! Make some noise!! God is good all the time. All the time God is good. We all have a reason for the very BREATH of LIFE that was blown into Adam's nostrils and he became a living soul. Adam just means man. Human. In His image and likeness. Male and female created He them. If you believe in Jesus and the Good News aka Gospel of the Kingdom and Eternal Life you have every reason on every Day the Lord has made to be grateful and choose to be happy. The Eternal One is the Alpha and Omega. The Ancient of Days is the First and the Last. The Almighty. Beginning and End. Genesis to Revelation. Death and Life He gives and takes away.

I pray you don't waste another moment having a pity party if you don't have an actual reason to be stuck feeling sad for an excessive period of time. It is selfish. Ungrateful.

Your THOUGHTS and FEELINGS are powerful. They are YOURS though. You and you alone have a God given free gift of grace to Think for yourself and Regulate or Control Your Feelings and Emotions. It takes time and it's a process of growing up and becoming a man or woman. He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of POWER, LOVE, AND A SOUND MIND. SELF DISCIPLINE your MIND. We have the MIND of Christ. The Spirit of God and of Christ. The Kingdom of heaven is within. God the Father, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit is all within. What does it say? The Word is near to you, in your heart, even in your mouth.

It is Finished!

Revelation 22:16 21st Century King James Version (KJ21)

16 “I, Jesus, have sent Mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the Bright and Morning Star.”

Isaiah 44:6-8 21st Century King James Version (KJ21)

6 “Thus saith the Lord, the King of Israel, and his Redeemer, the Lord of hosts: I am the First, and I am the Last, and besides Me there is no God.

7 And who, as I, shall call and shall declare it, and set it in order for Me, since I appointed the ancient people? And the things that are coming and shall come, let them show unto them.

8 Fear ye not, neither be afraid. Have not I told thee from that time and have declared it? Ye are even My witnesses. Is there a God besides Me? Yea, there is no God. I know not any.”

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savysavannah · 4 years

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Practice Challenge One part Two

Special thanks to: @eaton-schreave and @s-morgan

Men have been paying more attention to me lately. Not that they didn't much before, I am a woman after all they're fairly predictable on that front. But what I wasn't expecting was how aggressive they'd be once I became something they knew they couldn't have.

I tried to continue living on as if nothing happened. Wake up, go to work, work through lunch (you can't let the papparazzi see you with mayo on your cheek again), take a break and call Angelic who works at the palace and has been my personal helper through this transition, beg my boss to let me work through the selection, "I can just go to court virtually!", skip dinner, drive home, make sure no one is following me, they still haven't found out where I live at least, pop open a bottle of gin, then research this bitch who I had to somehow, for the sake of my own ass, not murder.

The office is on floor 10 of the 20 floor building I work in. I park in the parking lot, thankfully the paparazzi can't follow me there as you have to scan in. I walked up to the elevator and pressed the button. Just as the doors closed a larger man ran up and blocked it with his hand. He was around 6’4 and towered over me, he stood a little too close and I clutched my purse to take the anxiety out.

I watched the numbers go up as we rode but felt him watching me. His pinky finger rubbed against my thigh fiddling with the hem of my pencil skirt. He couldn’t do anything to me, not with who I now was, not in a moving elevator. I tried to remember to breathe as we hit floor eight and leaned to the side to avoid him which he leaned closer in response. Finally we stopped at floor ten and I got off. Thankfully, he didn’t follow.

I tried to put the moment out of my mind while I worked. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, but it was the first time that I was completely and utterly alone. I clicked the B key of my laptop over and over trying to get my brain to pump out something. Some kind of work. But all I got in response was the distracting thoughts of what to do next time.

At lunch I stared at the elevator. I had to take either the stairs or the elevator. If I took the elevator I'd be stuck in the same situation. If I took the stairs I'd be alone in a dark area for longer. I pressed the button and watched my watch as I waited.

I was thankfully alone as it lowered to the ground. I was able to breathe and let my mind debate over if I should go to the sandwich place near work or drive home and eat leftovers. Going with the sandwich I started to walk down the block.

“Daniel will you get off that stupid device and pass your sister the peas.” Mother ordered as we all sat at the table of our parents estate. Our weekly dinners were normally a lively event, but tonight was the first night before I left. Daniel and I still hadn’t made up since his plan for vengeance against someone who had not harmed him had succeeded.

I’d tried to make the best of the situation, research some ounce of goodness in the Prince, but all I found were articles of his outrageous college behavior. Dan had been assuring me that once I was eliminated I would have a sea of men to pick from and would be happily married to a two or upper class three, I could quit work and be a simple housewife like his Marina, this outraged me further and caused a fight. My goal in life is not to be a wife but to work and be content with my work. Danny was the only one who could actually provide any solace reminding me that it would just be for a few weeks, possibly less, then I’d be back to work just as before. Eventually, people would forget I was ever someone to know and I could return to my life.

Just as we finished dinner the doorbell rang, though there was quickly a rattling of the knob and a busting in before the help could get to the door. Grandmother came in with large pink bags, which I believed to be for me. Soon after I learned that they were filled with all kinds of masks. Masks for face, masks for hair, hands, feet. Apparently, being on TV meant my skin had to be extremely soft.

Grandmother is the current head of the Mars candy corporation. Next in line is my Uncle Dennis, then my cousins, then uncle Ricky. Hopefully though it won’t come down to Ricky. Ricky blew all his money before he could trap a wife, he’s still a two as grandmother keeps him afloat, but barely. One day he’ll probably be caught with some kind of drug, he’ll be dropped to an eight, it’ll be a shame that could have been prevented had the lawyer in the family not been a stuck up bitch. I’m just tired of working for free on a man who will never change, and doesn’t deserve the luxury. But God forbid I charge family.

The morning of the flight I wasn’t nervous at all. I said my goodbyes to my boss, let her know I’d be available on my phone or through email if she needed anything, locked up my home, and headed to the formal goodbye where I’d meet up with my family. There was a surprising amount of pride in the province for me being selected. I had read an article about how it seemed I would be destined to be the perfect fit for Queen. I already worked in helping those of Illea through complex laws and policies, I was well educated, from a wealthy family but not a literal two. I was the perfect mold and the pride of Labrador. There were other provinces which had an eight selected that were not quite as cheerful. In the quiet of the airport I was finally able to say my goodbyes. Mother told me to remember to not be too closed off, Father told me to be careful, Danny told me to tough it out but give it an honest try; “He may not be terrible, don’t deny yourself happiness.” Some nonsense like that.

Dan congratulated me on the opportunity, and Daniel stood quietly trying to avoid eye contact. I was still mad at him. What he did was unforgivable. But we couldn’t leave like this. I hugged him tightly and boarded the plane.

The day was a blur, a blur of useless lessons, a blur of mild appearance changes, girls who were possibly friends, possibly enemies, possibly annoying. It was late into the evening by the time I got to my room. My maids, Florence, Abigail, and Eimear seemed eager to be serving possibly ‘the future queen of illea’ and I was eager for a moment to myself. I dismissed them for the night to unpack on my own.

I’d snuck a few pairs of my own tailored dress pants in, my laptop, phone, a notebook, a few books, and a family photo. Soon enough the room was a strangers room with sprinkles of me throughout. Once I sat down at my laptop I realized it was already getting fairly late. I changed into a silk nightgown, closed my laptop and tried to sleep.

As I slept I thought of the footsteps around me, everything felt so loud, a screaming echo that I was in the very last place I ever wanted to be. After a while of tossing and turning I finally stood and walked to the wine cellar. We had been told to make ourselves at home afterall. As I walked back to my room I bumped into a stranger.

After a moment of shock and regaining my grip on the bottle of wine I looked up to see Prince Eaton. He was known to be more sane than his brother, so I was thankful for at least that. “Oh! I'm sorry, Prince Eaton.” I spoke and gave a small curtsy.

He looks down at the bottle and myself with a bit of a furrowed brow “You don't need to apologize.”

He pauses for a moment and gives a friendly smile, “And you don't need to curtsy, either. Lady Savannah, is that right?” It’s a bit astonishing he’d both remember my name and recognize it as mine upon seeing me. If I were in his place I’m not sure I could.

I sighed a bit in relief please I wouldn’t be getting yelled at for my carelessness this evening, “Yes. Just Savannah is fine, or Ms. Mars if you insist on formality. Though, the apology is still warranted considering I should have been watching where I was going. At little out of it, first night and all.” I lifted the bottle as the first night related to the bottle.

He gave a deadpan joke and I was fortunate then that I am competent in people reading. It may have been awkward if his "I'm not sure wine will help you remember the palace geography.”

“Well, the goal is to drink it once I return to my room. That or the courtyard since it is pretty out tonight. Though, you do make an excellent point that the wine combined with being in an unfamiliar location could have negative consequences.” For a moment I paused. It may not be a horrible idea to make the acquaintance of someone here.

“Care to have a glass with me? Splitting it and being with someone who knows the 'geography' well may decrease the negatives.” I offered.

“Interesting that you don't drink though. I'd heard you were more....sober, than your brother but it's noted to the extent. *kinda blushes* not that I was researching you or anything, it's just difficult to not hear things when you both went to my undergrad and you're a prince. Kinda a common conversation topic.”

He stood a bit straighter and eyed the bottle, “I do not drink.” After a moment passed he then cleared his throat, the tone of his statement before must have hit him, “However I can keep you company if you want to.”

I stifled a laugh at him clearing his throat not trying to be rude but finding his realization funny, “Great then. You can be my guide then for the evening.”

he seemed embarrassed and put his hands in his jean pockets, “I'm afraid this kind of thing comes along with the title...“ he took a hand out of his pocket, making a motion like ‘shall we go?’

“So you went to the University of Labrador?”

“yup. Go Labs *kinda mumbles for a moment* I wasn't really there for long. We started the same year I think, which I don't really remember much of. I was kinda a different person then. Then I graduated in 2 years and went to Yale law so all in all not a whole lot of time there. But I am from Labrador and my family home is near the campus so I know the area pretty well.”

he had a very small smile “And I showed off to my brother for graduating in three years. Labrador is a beautiful province, though. I miss it.”

“Well, I'm sure you had more to do than me. I'm not some kinda royal so I just got to spend all my time working on getting credits. It is pretty though, I already miss it. Not that Angeles isn't. My mom's family lives here so I've been here a few times, but it's just not Labrador.”

“I agree, but I've come to realize Angeles is full of little gems. You just need to find them. Hopefully you'll be able to get out of the palace to see it for yourself.”

I chuckled a bit at my situation, “Well, I don't imagine I'll be here very long so maybe I'll have a little Angeles vacation”

he raised his eyebrows, “I know... My brother's reputation. But I think he's trying to take this seriously.” He paused for a moment, “Or as seriously as he can take anything.” It was a bit shocking to hear him say that. He seemed like a sensible person, any sensible person would be unlikely to defend the Prince. Though, he was also his brother, perhaps there's a familial bias.

“Mhm.” I nodded then picked the conversation back up, “well, only time will tell. Hopefully for the sake of the country what's been said about him the last few years are baseless rumours” I sighed a bit thinking about which floozy of a wife will be our future Queen. The floozy and the fuckboy, what leaders.

Prince Eaton clenched his jaw, “Media is prone to exaggeration.” but did not deny what had been said.

He was being nice by walking with me so I decided to spare him a grilling and change the topic, “I'm sure. So how do you feel with the whole uh, 35 girls in your house situation?” Great now I sound like an interviewer.

We reached an access to the gardens and he opened a French window for me, “My space is always invaded, it's nothing worse than usual.” He said with a failed attempt at a smile. I assume he isn’t looking for pity but it’s difficult to not be pitying over such an attempt.

“That's fair I guess. Surprised you stayed though. Had my brother decided to have a bunch of ladies in our home, privacy be damned I don't wanna be around that mess.” I joked.

He snorted and seemed surprised at himself, “I was supposed to avoid it with a world tour. But things took another turn and now work won't get done alone.”

“World tour sounds a lot more fun. Postponed or cancelled?”

He gave his first genuine smile of the night, “Already done, actually. I came back a couple months ago.”

“Where did you go? Since I assume a world tour isn't literal?”

“Oceania, South Asia, Central Africa, and Europe.” He gave a small wistful sigh. I’d be wistful too if I had been all over there.

“That's very worldly. I've only been to France and Germany. Did you have a favorite visit?”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment, “New Zealand and Scandinavia. What about you though? Did you enjoy your visits?”

The question caught me off guard so I took a moment trying to remember them, “they were alright. Quite a long time ago though. We only went to stay with my Uncle in France since he runs the part of my family's company in France and then we went to Germany because we were there so we may as well head there. Mostly it was just sitting with my brothers at a hotel while my parents went off or my grandma playing dress up with eight year old me”

“Oh. Do you regret not getting to see more of those places?” He said and looked to a bench we were approaching, but more with a thoughtful consideration than a directional goal.

“A bit. It would have been nice to go out but they were more business trips than anything else. Maybe I'll go again at some point on my own if I have the free time.” I let us pass the bench, I’d been sitting far too much today with all the lessons and makeovers.

“Sometimes you have to give yourself the time or you'll never do certain things.”

“Logically I agree. But emotionally.....it's difficult to step back to work when my work directly impacts horrific moments of people's lives. Like if I were to go see a movie and my phone off, a client could be arrested and their treatment and time in jail without being able to contact their legal representation would be on my hands.”

He nodded slowly, “I can understand that. It gets hard to stop when people's lives are on the line.”

I sighed, trying not to get too revealing over my reasons for being here, afterall telling a stranger- regardless of him being a prince, that my brother had forged my application would be dumb, “I don't even really want to be wasting time here. But it is what it is. Trying to view this as a forced vacation. At least there are pretty flowers and good wine.”

He furrowed his brows, “Is there a way we could keep you working, from here? I guess you couldn't do much, but a little is better than nothing.”

I sighed, “Yeah I tried. I work for the ICLU so I asked if I could just stay in contact with clients and work from a far. But I wouldn't be able to make any proper court appearances and they wouldn't want someone just thrown on for court so it made more sense to just give me paid vacation. They were pretty proud anyways since apparently it's an honor to be selected for this reboot reality TV bachelor show.”

He pursed his lips, “I'm sorry you don't get to keep working. But they're not wrong. You being selected does give visibility to your organisation.”

I stopped for a moment, completely caught off guard by the comment, “That is true I hadn't thought of that. It's a non-profit so I hope donations may increase from me being here.” I dug into the oversized pockets of my nightgown and grabbed a pen, always best to keep a pen in the pocket, then scribbled on my hand, “reminder to think of ways to bring up iclu during this.” I explained.

He laughed through his nose and smiled, “See, a couple things might come out of your forced vacation.”

I chuckled a bit, “You're a smartass, and I mean that as a compliment. I can tell already which makes me feel much better about Prince Damian being in charge next.” I sighed content for a moment then remembered I was supposed to be making conversation, “So, you know I'm a nut for my work, what are you passionate about?”

He shrugged and looked around as if the gardens would save him, “My work.”

I smiled wondering a bit why that would be something to be ashamed of, “I get that. But do you have a specific part? I mean I'm sure you do a lot. So do you ever wake up and you're like 'man I get to do blank today!" Like for me it's court days because I love the theatrics of it.” I smiled a bit remembering the fun of cross.

The question seemed too intimate for him as he tucked his hands in his pockets, “I guess I like working on projects. I mean, when the planning part of it.”

“Projects are fun. I hated them when I was in high school. I was very much so not the nerd I am today.” I tried to avoid going too deep into the projects conversation, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable.

He raised a brow at the comment of my past, “I understand why people can find them boring, though.” Thankfully he didn’t press further on the past.

“Yeah I was more of a push off project till the last minute and party with my friends type for a while. Now I kinda wish I could have them again, it'd probably be fun to analyse how the flaws of Gregory Illea still impact us from a historical perspective.”

He snorted and shook his head, “It's more nerve-wracking than fun, in my opinion.”

“Well yeah, but if you can identify the flaws you can work to fix them and the research is fun so overall, more fun.”

He looked up at the stars as he thought, “I don't know... Not all of it is fixable. Not that easily at least.”

I thought as well for a moment, the country had been in a bit of unrest for awhile now. He was probably thinking of that, “Well, just because it isn't easy isn't any reason to not be excited about it. The accomplishment of fixing something difficult is arguable even better.” I tried to reason.

He stayed thoughtful, and looked down at me, “I see your points. But sometimes I think our ancestors just put us in a situation we'll never fully get out of.”

“That's a very cynical outlook and I disagree. It isn't logical to assume that just because a way hasn't been thought up yet that there can be a way out of a problem.” I said and smiled up at him.

“Maybe it's cynical, but what I see is history repeating itself.” He looked up again, “It doesn't mean I think things aren't worth fighting for, though. But magical solutions don't exist.”

“I agree. Solutions often require a lot of work and even then are often not perfect. But to never fully get out of seems too far cynical for me to believe.”

He looked down at me curiously, “You're more optimistic than you appear to be.”

I raised an eyebrow, “hm, interesting that I appear to not be optimistic. I take it that it's the wine bottle causing that.”

He smiled slightly, “Maybe. But just a little.”

“Any reason you don't drink?” I asked before realizing that may be very personal, “that is if you're comfortable answering.”

He shrugged, “I don't like the taste. Or the sensation.”

“That's a fair reason. I didn't like it much till I joined a sorority and ended up just liking it because we drank so much.” I kinda shuddered remembering the hangovers.

He raised an eyebrow, “I guess it tastes different once you're inebriated enough.”

“Yeah like spicy foods. Everyone hates them when they are a kid but you grow to love them as you get older.”

He snorted, ”I've always liked spicy foods, even as a kid.”

I laughed, “Well then you're weird. I still can't handle wasabi.”

He laughed softly, “You just need to be careful about the quantity.”

“No literally any bit of it and I'm out. My brother Danny put some on my sushi the other night, it was just a dapple from his chopstick but I couldn't eat the piece.”

“Did you try to?”

“No. Why would I want to be in pain, I'm not a weird masochist.”

“How do you know it's that bad if you never give it another try though?”

“Hmm, traumatic memories.”

He raised his eyebrows, a curious expression on his face, “Care to share?”

I sighed at the memory, “When I was a kid I really loved matcha paste. It was like a sweet matcha pouch of paste that you could suck out, like those applesauce containers. it was my favorite thing. My grandmother gave me some and since my parents found it effective to shut me up I got it a lot. One day they ordered sushi, left it on the table, I was around four so i could reach it, thought the wasabi was matcha and ate a handful of it. Tears ensued and now I'll never touch it again.”

He laughed softly, “Alright, I understand better. But you could try to overcome your trauma someday.”

“Maybe one day, but with a lot of milk in arms reach”

He nodded, “I'm sure it can be easily arranged during your little vacation.”

I kinda shuddered at the thought, “I'll for sure need a friendly face there with me for moral support.” I laughed.

He laughed quietly, “It shouldn't be hard to find.”

“Probably harder than the wasabi though. So that is task number one on mission wasabi.”

He smiled slightly, “Well, if you stay stuck too long on task number one, I can volunteer as a friendly face.”

“Thank you. Same to you if you ever happen to need one.”

He nodded, “I'll remember that.” He jerked his chin to the wine, “Are you still planning on drinking this?”

I lifted the bottle and stared for a moment, “it'll come back to my room for further deliberation. Possibly a nightcap.”

“If it can help you get some sleep…” He glanced at the palace, “I should walk you back to your room.”

“If you don't mind. I would consider you an expert of palace geography after all.”

He snorted and shook his head, “Do you remember your room number? Or Hall?”

“Ummmmm. I'm gonna guess 14. Could be 15 though.”

He took a step towards the palace, gesturing for me to walk along, “Well, hopefully we won't step into anyone's bedroom.”

“Hm. Well the doors do say our names on them, so assuming one of us is literate I think we're safe from that” .

“I'm a humble geographer, I read maps.” He replied, getting a small giggle from myself.

“lead the way, humble geographer.” We walked for a bit through the palace till we found my room.

“That's me.”

He stopped in front of the room, “Well, we've made it. Unscathed, at that.”

“Very impressive. I would say you're a 10 out of 10 guide for such an achievement.”

He bowed, “Please don't hesitate to post a review on TripAdvisor.”

I chuckled at the joke, “well thank you for all your help. Wishing you the best, Prince Eaton.”

“Eaton's just fine. Goodnight.” He smiled.

“Good night, Eaton” I replied with a curtsy then retired to my room.

Once I got on my laptop I pulled up my email. It wouldn’t be too annoying if I emailed my boss with some advertisement suggestions. If I let her know I’d be willing to help as much as I could. I could take up some interviews and remind people to donate. But as I typed I found myself hitting the same key over and over.

Finally I scrolled onto Toogle and began to read about Prince Damian. The bottle of wine found its way to my lips as I read about his partying, his boorish public behavior, his absolutely lack of responsibility for his people. Quickly the bottle was empty.

The world spun and I closed the laptop. My stomach gurgled demanding sustenance. Crackers? Something salty? Maybe popcorn. Popcorn and a movie sounds good, I mean why should I bother with anything else while I’m here in this hell. If I have to wake up early I can simply nap when I have a moment to spare. I took the bottle with me planning to throw it away in some form of recycling bin which I assumed would be in the kitchen.

I couldn’t find the kitchen. Instead I stood in an unknown hallway for a few moments, before finally deciding to give up and just return to my room. I could ask my maids for popcorn in the morning if I still wanted it.

I walked to my room on the corner of the hallway, walked in and laid on my bed. I let my shoes slip off and rest on the ground next to where I had placed the empty bottle.

“Um…” I hear someone say who then clears their throat and says a bit louder, “hello?”

I Rolled around to look at her. I had dismissed all of my maids, who was this person? After a moment I recognized her as a selected who I had seen earlier in the day, “Um? Hi?” I mumbled and tried to sit up a bit in bed. This was not a good time for me to be receiving visitors and I hadn’t the slightest clue why this girl was in my room.

She steps a bit closer to me, “Are you alright?”

“More than. Rich asshole got fucking great wine. I'm Savannah Mars of Labradoradora. Why are you in my room?” I slurred.

She mouthed “Labradoradora” silently to herself before she blinked again, and walked to the edge of the bed and looked at me. Seeming to understand my condition she smiled, “Somehow someway, you ended up in my room. Sienna. Not... Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Woops.” I giggled a bit at the situation now fully understanding this poor girl's confusion at my intrusion. “Savannah.” I lifted an arm in a lazy wave, “Mars. If you read the papers I'm the selected whose brother punched a reporter.”

She half grimaced, “Well hopefully you don’t punch me when I offer to help you back to your room.”

I laughed a bit at what this girl must be thinking of me, “not at all! They're just protective over a creepy paparazzi.” I sat up more straightly and swayed a little.“you don't have to help me though. I am perfectly capable of finding a room. Regardless of my state I am in fact a lawyer. Therefore I can read.”

Her smile is a little more at ease with my laugh, then she nodded slowly, “Oh absolutely. But so I don’t get mixed up in the future, can you let me come?” She said, eyeing my swaying carefully.

“Gotcha!” I cheered and did some finger guns and stood up successfully with the help of the bedpost, “I'm a lawyer, you?”

She stepped near me and offered a hand, answering distractedly, “Illustrator.”

I took her hand, “Pretty!” Then blushes a bit at the exclamation, “Illustration i mean! You are too though!” Trying not to insult the stranger.

She laughed softly and took my arm into the crook of hers, “Thank you. The compliment goes both ways.”

I nodded enthusiastically, “oh no bad idea dizzy.” I said and settled myself again, “I sleep somewhere around here. Why do all these doors look the same”

“I see why you got confused heading into my room.” She chuckles as she scans the plates, “Are you sure your room’s in this direction?” She blinked “Never mind.”

Suddenly I saw another door, it said S something, how many selected with S names could there be, “S is me!” I exclaimed.

She squinted and she looked closer at the nameplate, “S is close to you, but this isn’t your room. It’s Soraya’s,” She frowned and nodded at a guard who we passed.

“Oh... “ I wondered why someone else would have joined this, I suppose this other selected is a perfect person to ask, “Do you have the hots for the prince?”

She seemed startled by the question, “Well... we haven’t even met him yet.” She then raised a brow, “Do you?”

I laughed and nearly threw my head back, “Absolutely not! But I was wondering if all the girls here would be like” I stopped for a moment to gather myself, “UWUWUW Prince Dammmm i wanna be your wifeeyyy” I batted my eyes mimicking my expectation of my fellow selected, “and shit.”

Thankfully she laughed before quickly covering her mouth, “Let’s see how the interviews go then talk. I might go all moony-eyed.”

I half chuckled, “I don't think there’s a thing he could say to me to make me go all "uwu'. Strongly dislike the man off the bat.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow, a laugh still in her voice, “Is it the partying?”

“120%” I said fully serious.

She hummed, “What about it don’t you like?

“The fact that he's supposed to be the heir to illea and he's running around partying like he's just some ordinary frat boy. He has an obligation to the country and his choice to party over starting on work directly impacts thousands of peoples lives. I spend freaking days arguing cases that could just be solved if we had a leader who was sand enough to amend laws that deserve amending but he's out there doing jello shots and drinking tequila!” I complained, probably spilling out a bit much.

She sighed and bobbed her head to one side for a moment, focusing on the hallway before they reached the end of it and realized her room is probably back where they were before, she simply missed it. tugs them back in that direction again, “Maybe he’s... getting it out of his system.” She defended and wrinkled her nose clearly not believing her own words.

I sighed, “Maybe. At least this will let me tell if he's really that hopeless or not. Not that I'm one to speak in my current state.”

She gave a short laugh, “What if he is hopeless? What will you do then?”

I hadn’t quite thought that far out, “I figure out which one of you is the least hopeless and try to help them win.” I suggested.

She seemed amused at my conclusion, “Why did you submit your name then? For kicks and giggles?”

I sighed, “I didn't submit my application. Let's just leave it at that. Why'd you submit yours?” She seemed to agree with me about the large faults of the prince which made me more curious.

“Second chance at... something.” A vague answer.

I snorted, “something? What did you date a prince in a past life?”

She looked down with a smile then back up, “Life. Second chance at life.” I knew what she meant. The chance to reinvent yourself. I was able to get it before, if this was hers I wished her the best.

I looked up at her and smiled, “Well, I hope you get it Ms. Artist.”

She directed a smile at me, “Thank you.” We finally approach a room directly labeled Savannah Mars, which is funnily enough exactly across the hall from Sienna's. “I hope you don’t get too much of a headache tomorrow.”

I waved, “Nah I chug water.” I smiled at her already feeling the effects wearing off, “Thank you for walking me here, and I'm sorry for lying on your bed.”

“Sure sure.” She let go of her arm and raised a brow, “Positive you’ll be alright?”

“Positive.” I replied with a brief nod, headed into my room, then passed out for the night.

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sunriserose1023 · 5 years

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Merry & Married {3}

SUMMARY: It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone. Enter Bucky Barnes, the best friend you’ve ever had. You fill him in, and of course he agrees to go home with you. What are friends for? Never mind the fact that he’s desperately in love with you. And if you hadn’t sworn off men forever, you might just find him … attractive. So there you are, surrounded by love, bridesmaid dresses, champagne, and no less than one hundred sprigs of mistletoe. What could possibly go wrong? WORD COUNT: 1686 WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: Emotional angst, presumably unrequited love, friends to lovers, fluff, happily ever after, written for the @heamarvel Holiday Movie Challenge

Masterlist

“Fuck, New Orleans is bright.”

You giggled to yourself as Natasha frantically slid her sunglasses on. Beside you, Bucky made a face as he shrugged out of his coat and you nodded.

“And humid. I don’t even want to think of how my hair’s going to look.”

Natasha shook her head.

“Home sweet home, right, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowing hard as Bucky laid a hand on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and lifted a hand, gripping his for just a moment before you sighed. Natasha stood beside her suitcase, scrolling through her phone and you turned to look up at Bucky, a soft smile coming over your face when he smirked down at you, sunglasses hiding his blue eyes.

“What?” “Nat, did you call a car?” “Yep. Should be pulling up any minute now.”

You broke the staring contest you were having with Bucky to smile over at her.

“Think we can change the travel plans?”

Bucky groaned, shaking his head as he took another bite. You laughed at the powdered sugar in his beard and covering the front of his shirt. Natasha rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just fried dough.” “No, it’s a delicacy.”

You laughed again, at the words muffled by the bite in Bucky’s mouth. He looked to you, leaning in closer.

“What’s it called again?” “A beignet.”

Natasha blew out a breath.

“Yes, we are the quintessential New Orleans tourists, having beignets at Cafe Du Monde.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Natasha.

“Don’t be such a Grinch, Romanoff.”

You laughed as her green eyes narrowed, and you shook your head, sliding the plate away before Bucky was wearing more powdered sugar than he already was. You nodded to him.

“Have you dunked it in the coffee yet?”

He nodded.

“Thank God your cousin’s wedding isn’t here. I’d gain—“ “Diabetes.”

You laughed at Natasha’s knowing comment, as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. Bucky shook his head, taking another bite, passing the rest of the pastry towards you. You smiled and picked it up, dipping it in the pile of powdered sugar on the plate before taking a bite. You giggled when powdered sugar went all over your face and shirt, but you made no move to wipe it away when you saw the grin on Bucky’s face. He nodded to Natasha.

“Take our picture.” “Oh, Buck—“ “You’re gorgeous, hush.”

You felt your cheeks warm as Natasha smiled, lifting her phone and snapping a pic of you and Bucky, powdered sugar all over your faces and clothes, lips curled in cheesy grins.

The town you grew up in was about a three-hour drive from New Orleans. Natasha had ordered a car to take the three of you to the lake house, and you stared out the window as you drove over the long bridge out of New Orleans. Bucky sat across from you, Natasha beside you, both of them watching you. Natasha widened her eyes at Bucky and he gave a nod before he leaned forward.

“Hey.”

You turned to face him and he smiled at you.

“Tell me about the fam.”

Natasha gave a quiet laugh.

“There’s a can of worms you don’t know you’re not ready to open.”

You smiled at her.

“It’s too late. He’s already on the way to them.”

Natasha sighed, shaking her head. You smiled as you looked back to Bucky.

“Well, the first person I’ll seek out is my mom.” “Don’t worry; you’ll love her. You’ve already met her, because she’s Y/N, just older.”

You rolled your eyes as Natasha smiled, then nodded.

“Then we’ll have to find Nana.”

You looked to Bucky and grinned.

“You’ll love Nana.”

Natasha vehemently nodded, leaning forward.

“She’s as tall as I am—“ “Which isn’t saying much.”

You dodged the elbow Natasha tried to hit you with and you giggled. She rolled her eyes, then continued.

“She’s also the one who taught me to take no shit.”

Bucky pursed his lips as he nodded.

“Oh, good. A pre-Natasha Natasha.”

You nodded your head.

“Everyone says Nat acts just like Nana did back in the day. But Nana can still hold her own.”

Bucky nodded and Natasha fluffed her hair as she spoke.

“Nana and Papa had five daughters. Hence the reason our family is so big. I’ll take some, then Y/N can take over. First there’s Aunt Janet and Uncle Hank. They have Hope, who’s married to Scott Lang. Scott has a daughter named Cassie from a previous marriage, and Hope’s pregnant right now. They also have Carol.”

Bucky nodded.

“Is she married?”

You and Natasha exchanged a glance. You shook your head as Natasha spoke out loud.

“No, she’s a lesbian.”

Bucky flicked his eyes to you, and you lifted a shoulder and an eyebrow at the same time, almost like you were daring him to say something. He smiled back at you and you rolled your eyes, smiling as you looked to Natasha.

“Do you think she’s bringing a plus one?” “Uh, it’s Carol. I’ll almost guarantee it.”

You looked back to Bucky.

“Carol’s a bit of a … how can I put this politely?”

Natasha snorted.

“Carol’s a hoe.”

Bucky barked out a laugh and you shook your head.

“I love her to death, but she’s had more girlfriends than any sane person should have.” “She’s very intelligent, but has the worst taste in women.”

You nodded at Natasha, making a face.

“Remember Sharon?”

Natasha groaned.

“She was the human equivalent of watching paint dry. But she was better than Jessica.”

You widened your eyes and nodded your head.

“Jessica was batshit insane.” “Bobbi was normal.” “Now, I liked Bobbi.” “But ever since …”

Natasha let her sentence trail off and you sighed as you looked to Bucky.

“Carol was in the Air Force. She met Maria and they fell in love. They were in a terrible plane crash and Carol even had amnesia for a while. I thought that was just a plot point for soap operas, but it’s real.” “And it’s awful.”

You nodded.

“When she finally did get her memories back, we had to tell her that Maria died and it … god, it was horrible.”

Bucky shook his head and you met his eyes again.

“We love Carol. We’ve been through a lot with her, and we’re kind of protective.”

Bucky smiled and nodded. Natasha let out a breath, then picked her story back up.

“Then there’s my mom. Good luck with her.”

You giggled.

“I love Aunt Nadia. She’s such a bad bitch.”

Natasha nodded, and you leaned forward.

“And Uncle Phil is the greatest.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and you laughed.

“He’s the polar opposite of Nat and Aunt Nadia, but it just works somehow.”

Natasha shook her head, turning back to Bucky.

“Then there’s Y/N’s mom. The light of her world and all that.”

You elbowed Natasha before she could dodge it and she laughed as you took over the story.

“Next is Aunt May, who’s Darcy’s mom. She also has Peter. Uncle Ben had a little brother, Peter’s dad, and when Peter’s parents died, Ben and May adopted Peter.”

Natasha glanced down and you sighed as you looked at your hands in your lap.

“Uncle Ben died a few years ago. Cancer.” “God, I’m sorry.”

Bucky reached over to take your hand, and you smiled as you laced your fingers through his. You glanced through the window, then back to Bucky.

“The baby of the family is Aunt Pepper. Her real name’s Virginia, and I honestly have no clue where the nickname Pepper came from.” “Mom said it’s because she was spicy as a kid.” “But Aunt May told me that once Pepper discovered the spice pepper, she ate a ton of it on all her food. And one day Papa said ‘that's enough pepper,’ and I think my mom thought he meant Pepper as a nickname and not the spice. Then they all started calling her Pepper after that.”

You and Natasha shrugged as you exchanged a look, and you turned back to Bucky.

“Pepper’s married to Tony and they have little Morgan.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and you smiled.

“Pepper was sort of an unplanned surprise in the family, so she’s closer to our age than our moms’. Aunt May’s ten years older than her. And Pep and Tony had some issues getting pregnant, but they finally had Morgan.”

Bucky nodded, blowing out a breath.

“That’s a lot.” “Oh, just wait until they’re all in the same room.”

You nodded at Natasha’s statement and Bucky leaned back in his seat. You smiled, kicking your foot out, your toes barely brushing his leg. He smiled when he looked to you and you smiled at him. Natasha slid over to the window, pulling her phone out and acting interested in it. Bucky leaned forward as you did and you let out a breath.

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

You sighed.

“I don’t know. I’m nervous. I haven’t seen most of them since my wedding.” “Well, just from what you told me, it’s clear there’s a lot of love here.”

You nodded.

“I’m just being stupid.” “You’re not stupid.”

You sighed, lifting your eyes to meet his. He took hold of your hands, giving you a soft smile.

“If at any time you need a break or an escape or whatever, just look at me. I’ll get you out of there.” “But—“ “No buts. I don’t need to know the story, Y/N. If you need a minute to catch your breath, I’ll sneak you outside. No worries.”

You shook your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“You’re too good to me, Bucky.”

He shook his head, staring at the top of yours when you glanced down at the hands he was still holding.

“Well, what are friends for?”

The words tasted vile in his mouth, but the way you looked up and met his eyes, that soft smile on your lips almost made it worth it.

Almost.

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @walkingchemicalfire, @eileenalone, @mrsalh32611, @alexxcorona113, @ivoryhazlewood, @chaoticfanatic, @rhapsody-in-flannel, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall, @captainchrisstan, @ninaminaromina, @geeksareunique, @allsortsofinterests, @nerdy-bookworm-1998, @misplacedorphan, @chrisevansgirl, @whimsicalatbest, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @isaxhorror, @redhairedfeistynerd, @n3rdybird, @the-ss-acklestan, @moonlessnight14, @geeksareunique

#merry & married #heamarvel #mhea holiday movie challenge 2019 #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #mcu #mcu au #marvel reader insert #female reader insert #mcu reader insert #mcu fanfiction

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writing-radionoises · 4 years

Text

everything will be alright

ship: mostly none, a side of odazai and fyodazai if you squint

genre: character study, hurt/comfort

prompt: osamu dazai was born without a will to live.

notes: tw for self harm, suicide, and mori bullshit

Dazai never really knew his parents.

He’s been passed around from person to person like a charity case for as long as he can remember, most of these people end up being a part of the Port Mafia.

Most of his early childhood is a blur, a lot of it was full of indifference, and ruthless training.

Between each and every Port Mafia member he was passed onto, he still had to go through the normal training of every Port Mafia member, despite being somewhere between four to thirteen years old and having no real desire to join the mafia.

He was truly set up for a life in the mafia from the moment he was born.

But regardless, training is difficult and painful. The training was meant for at least a sixteen year old, children in the mafia back then weren’t a popular thing.

Truthfully, Dazai might’ve been one of the youngest children to ever go through the Port Mafia training.

He can recall practice fights with faceless parental guardians, names and faces of adults he’d forget within a week, or something he’d see their face on the news two weeks later to find out they died.

He remembers learning to fire a basic handgun at the age of seven.

It hurt his hands a lot, he nearly fell over just from the sound of the handgun.

Dazai can recall a specific guardian who would choose not to feed him if he didn’t do well enough in his training. He was maybe nine years old at the time.

Regardless, the years of training and being surrounded by death cemented itself into Dazai’s brain, and he found himself losing any desire completely.

It started by losing his want for a brand new toys, things he would see on TV. Instead of being excited at the sight of the ads of those toys, he’d just switch the channel. At the time, Dazai just thought it was part of growing up, though it escalated from there.

He lost the desire to be an adult.

And eventually, he lost his desire to live.

It was at the age of ten that Dazai decided he would not live past the age of sixteen.

He’d kill himself before he reached his sixteenth birthday.

His first suicide attempt was in the bathroom at around noon, a mistake on his part. He took out a random pill bottle and downed the entire thing, and laid on the bathroom floor. Another mistake, the pills didn’t actually end up killing him. At worst, he just went to a doctor within the mafia, and was told not to do it again.

Though, his suicide attempts improved over time. He learned more and more how to successfully kill himself, each failure was a new thing learned.

Between the ages of ten to fourteen, Dazai lost track of the amount of suicide attempts he made. From overdosage to self harm, he tried it all.

The one that was the closest to being successful for him was when he tried to hang himself.

Dazai remembers, he had just been moved into a new guardian’s home, and had already had a plan.

The room he was moved in had the perfect place to hang a noose on. The thought of it had filled Dazai with some empty-like version of joy, the thought to finally be able to leave this world…

Little did he know it would be the worst mistake of his life, trying to hang himself that night.

He had just barely been saved, and taken to meet Dr. Mori Ogai.

And there would begin the worst years of Dazai’s life.

Dazai’s eyes opened slowly underneath the bright lights of the office, his wrists were restrained against the cold metal of the hospital bed he was laying in.

He was very cold. The restraints were tight against his wrists…

“Ah, you’re awake?” Said a voice, to which Dazai turned his head to see an older man walking towards the bed.

He had medium length hair, slicked back with a few loose pieces. He looked like just about every other doctor Dazai had met, but his voice sent shivers down Dazai’s spine.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Greeted another voice, a younger girl who was now stood on the other side of Dazai’s bed, undoing the restraints on his wrists with a smile. She appeared to be a nurse.

“Can you tell me your name?” The doctor asked, his hands now placed on the metal railing of the bed.

“Osamu… Dazai?” Replied the brunette, his brows furrowing together.

“Good, it seems you’re sane,” said the doctor with a smile, “Dr. Mori Ogai, you may call me Mori.”

“Ogai-san…” Dazai started as the nurse undid his other restraint, he pulled his now loose wrist to his chest and rubbed at the sore forming, “Why did you let me live?” He finished, a defensive tone to his voice.

Mori only smiled, “I need you for something. Elise, help the boy up.”

The nurse did as she was told, grabbing Dazai bridal style and helping him stand. Dazai only got more and more confused as Mori handed him a black trenchcoat and a pair of shoes.

“We don’t have all that much time, now!”

Dazai remembers stumbling behind Mori, an arm around Elise’s shoulder as she helped him along the way into a grand room. Dazai is met with the sight of the Port Mafia boss laying in a large bed, coughing and wheezing as Mori stands above him with a smile.

Dazai holds his breath, looking between the boss and Mori as Elise begins to fade out away, leaving Dazai without support as he falls back and catches himself against the wall of the bedroom.

Dazai’s memory of the moment escapes him, hearing some sort of rant from the Port Mafia boss before Mori retrieves a scalpe from his pocket, cleaning it off with his coat and slashing the boss’s neck.

Blood splattered against the wall, and Dazai felt his eyes wide as Mori turned back to Dazai with a smile.

“If anyone asked, he left the Port Mafia to me. You won’t say otherwise,” he says, and Dazai feels a chill run down his spine.

He was fourteen years old, and his fear in the man named Mori Ogai had become the first emotion he felt in years.

Time went on, Dazai met more and more people.

He felt more and more pain.

The amount of times Mori had thrown him against walls, pinned him against counters, stepped on his chest, slashed at his arms with a scalpel, and so much more…

It took a toll against Dazai’s health, mental and physical.

The amount of scars only seemed to grow, and his urge to just die grew stronger and stronger.

He was a failure, he couldn’t seem to do anything right. He couldn’t even kill himself right.

He had lived past his life expectancy at the age of seventeen, and grew to avoid going home.

Where Mori was.

Instead, Dazai went to the bar. He drank until he could barely form a coherent thought.

It was then when he met a man named Oda Sakunosuke.

He had cut Dazai off from drinks at the bar, telling the bartender that he’d take care of Dazai and to instead give him water.

Dazai smiled as the bartender passed him a glass of water, lifting his head up.

“You’re here everyday, I watch you get shitfaced literally everyday,” said the ginger man, sitting a few seats away from Dazai, “Are you alright?”

Dazai smiled and shrugged, “I have no idea anymore.”

Oda gave a laugh, “Been there. Name’s Oda Sakunosuke. Sakunosuke is a mouthful, so most people call me Odasaku.”

“Osamu Dazai,” Dazai responded, “Nice to meet you, Odasaku.”

To say Odasaku and Dazai were friends would be an understatement. They became practically attached at the hip, always with each other when work wasn’t in the way.

Instead of going home to Mori, usually Dazai ended up at Odasaku’s apartment, one way or another.

And eventually, Ango Sakaguchi joined their little friend group. Ango was a stern young man, someone who had to be physically dragged away from work, and had little to no self regard for himself.

The three of them were great friends. Dazai can recall dancing in the kitchen with Odasaku, Ango falling asleep on his shoulder on the car ride back to Dazai’s place, making friendship bracelets with the both of them.

It was the happiest two years of Dazai’s life.

It reminded Dazai that his life was not Mori’s to own and control.

It was all fun and games until Mimic appeared, Ango’s triple life came to light, and eventually, led to Odasaku’s death.

Dazai became a shell of a human being, depressed and lonely.

His life went from a hundred to zero within an instant.

Dazai left the mafia.

In the years between joining the agency and leaving the Port Mafia, Dazai met a young man at a cafe.

He was a pretty thing, with an amazing understanding of English despite his Russian mother tongue.

His name was Fyodor Dostovesky. He was about the same age as Dazai, and had sat next to Dazai out of curiosity after Dazai ordered a coffee with eight shots of espresso.

“Eight shots? Why don’t you just do cocaine at that point?” Fyodor had said, sat across from Dazai with a smile, “... It is a joke. I doubt the staff here would appreciate you doing cocaine here.”

Dazai laughed, “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. I haven’t seen you before, are you from around here?”

Fyodor nodded a no, his hair moved along with his head, “What gave it away? The accent, or the clothes?” He joked once again.

Dazai only smiled in return. Perhaps it was a silly question, the other seemed to be wearing very clothes that are obviously not from Japan, they were made for cold winters.

“I am from St. Petersburg, Russia,” Fyodor explained, “I’m visiting.”

“Ah, what brings you to Yokohama?” Dazai questioned.

Fyodor glanced up, thinking before shrugging.

“I supposed I wanted a reason to use my fluency in Japanese,” he replied, “I learned out of impulse, very few people in Russia know Japanese, so I have no true reason to learn unless I’m going to Japan.”

“Ah, do you only know Russia and Japanese?”

Fyodor nodded a no, “I know a myriad of languages. Russian, Japanese, English, and French. Working on German.”

“You’re an interesting person,” Dazai mused, “Your name?”

Fyodor smiled in response, “Fyodor Dostovesky. I realize that in Japan it is last name, then first, though Dostovesky is a mouthful for foreigners. You may call me Fyodor.”

“Osamu Dazai,” Dazai replied, “Osamu works fine. Have a phone, by chance?”

Dazai can’t be mad. He knows he can’t, but instead, he pouts as he leans his head against the door of his apartment. He bits down on his lip and tries not to cry.

He shouldn’t be mad, Fyodor just said the truth.

They were just using each other to fill some void within themselves.

Dazai was just using Fyodor to try and forget about Odasaku, taking his kindness for granted and trying to fill his void of emotion.

He just misses Odasaku so much.

Fyodor was there at the right moment, he was pretty, he was kind of funny, and interesting.

What else was Dazai supposed to do? Odasaku would be so disappointed in him, he never wanted to use another person like that after leaving the mafia.

Not after seeing what the fuck he did to Akutagawa.

His head ends up on top of his knees, shaking and shivering from the force of his own emotions.

Why can’t he do anything right?

Fyodor lost against the agency. Dazai knew this would happen one way or another, the agency could not be destroyed as easily as he thought, and ultimately would lead to Fyodor’s downfall.

But still, Dazai feels some sort of hurt from the other as he approaches Fyodor, who is sitting on top on the rooftop and watching the sun go down.

He sits down beside Fyodor, who doesn’t pay him much mind.

His expression is blank, the sunset brings out the purple hues in his hair as Dazai gives a weak smile.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve talked as friends, hm?”

Fyodor nods in return, “It has, hasn’t it, Osamu?”

“Osamu?”

“What else should I call you?” Fyodor questioned, turning back to Dazai.

“Oh, Osamu’s fine,” he reassures, “You just called me Dazai on the battlefield.”

“I figured you did not want the whole agency knowing of our past relationship.”

“Ah, I don’t care anymore,” Dazai admits, “It was so long ago, it would just be another shitty thing they knew about me.”

“... What part of it is shitty?” Questioned the dark haired male once more, “That I was involved?”

Dazai nods a no, “No, truthfully. I think I was shitty to you as you were shitty to me, it was a two way street that I treated as a one way. You only spoke the truth back then, the truth I did not want to admit. I was using you. Had you known the whole time?”

Fyodor nods, “You aren’t as sneaky as you think.”

Dazai laughs a little bit, “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

There’s silence between the, watching the sunset on Yokohama as Fyodor bites down on his thumb.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, not turning to look at Dazai this time.

“I think so,” Dazai responds, “I don’t know. Happiness is such a strange concept these days.”

Fyodor swings his legs against the building, moving his gaze from the sun to his knees.

“I live with few regrets, Osamu,” he admits, “Though, I regret one thing. I regret watching you suffer like that, back in the day. I lack empathy, though compassion is not a foreign concept to me. I wish I had not pursued you like that, perhaps it would’ve saved you some suffering.” Dazai smiles, “I think you’re much kinder than you say, Fyodor.”

The other cracks a smile, “Perhaps. I wish you the best, though.”

Dazai hums a thank you, leaning his head on Fyodor’s shoulder.

He let out a breath of anxiety.

“I’ve been meaning to say this for years, though I’m not very good at apologizing. I’m sorry for using you like that, I’m sure that you didn’t have ill intentions at first, and were really just trying to figure out how emotions work. I took your kindness for granted, and that was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

Dazai pauses, looking back up at Fyodor curiously.

“That easily?”

“I have nothing to hold against you, Osamu,” he explains, “It is better to forgive than hold a grudge, anyway. As they say in Russia, До свадьбы заживет.”

Dazai quirked a brow “До свадьбы заживет?”

“It will heal before your wedding,” Fyodor translated, “Or rather, everything will be okay.”

Dazai smiled.

“До свадьбы заживет. Cute.”

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd odasaku #bsd osamu #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #odasaku sakunosuke #Oda Sakunosuke #odazai #oda x dazai #odasaku x dazai #fyodor x dazai #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #mori ogai #mori ougai #bsd mori #bsd elise

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