#most straight white guys though? they are now acting on that spite | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chipper-smol · 4 years

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*cracks my writing knuckles bc my artistic patience isn’t enough to fill the ambiance and tone properly*

2K WORDS. JUST FOR YOU GUYS

Was their ire and spiteful nature exclusively directed at the Pale King? Some retainers of the palace would say yes. Others would object and say it extended to the Five Great Knights as well since Ogrim had yet to hold onto his charm for longer than a day and Hegemol continued to wield a pole instead of a mighty hammer.

Well if you asked the source, they would simply stare at you silently, but you might get the impression that they had strong opinions (a wild thing for a vessel to have) on a few individuals other than the King.

Which is why the Feral Vessel is currently running for their life with the Great Nailmaster Sly hot on their back.

“Give it back you impetuous brat!” Sly roars behind them as he bounces off the walls at unfathomable speeds. Ghost, now going by Feral, is only surviving thanks to their knowledge of Sly’s moves from the Godseeker’s Pantheons. Sly’s jumps are still wildly unpredictable to them, but their now longer legs help them meet the speed needed to dodge the flea’s grabs.

Why are they doing this in the first place?

Well because when a rule is made that the Feral Vessel isn’t allowed a nail in the palace, or in any location in Hollownest, the only reasonable way to follow that rule, if you are said Feral Vessel, is to obtain nails of increasing ridiculous sizes. They first took their sibling’s old nail after the Pure Vessel grew out of it, and then they continued from there. They thought of borrowing Sheo’s nail for a day, but they quickly realized after finding the three Nailmasters that they were still the three Nailstudents. They were adorable but small and didn’t have their nails.

So Sly was there and Feral had some lingering rage left over from the Pantheons and well, the decision wasn’t hard to make. Two aspids with one stone. Now they were finding out that conceptualizing that plan and executing that plan were completely different things.

How do they get him off their back!? They already tried losing him through the maze that is the White Palace but they could not build any distance between them and Sly to make the endless corners and hallways useful. They need something- anything-

A-HA! One of Hornet’s web traps! (ingenious sticky things that clung ruthlessly to the clothing of the royals that walked this palace.)

Feral musters up their soul to push themself into one last burst of speed. They dash over the top of the trap just as they hear Sly zooming right at their back. With a twist of their leg and a firm grip on the oversized nail they spin at the last moment and swat the flea with his own nail into the poorly hidden nest of sticky silk.

The indignant yell of rage made that whole marathon worth it.

Not wanting to squander their momentary freedom from Sly’s wrath, they quickly turn and hightail it out of there.

Left. Straight. Left. Right. Straight. Straight. Up. Up. Right. Left-

That should be enough, right? Feral slows down and leans against a wall to catch their breath. Great Pale Beings they have not felt that much adrenaline since the first time they danced with Grimm. They were safe, for now. Feral straightens up, adjusts the greatnail onto their back and looks around.

...

They glance back from where they came.

Where... is this? They know the palace like the back of their hand, even without the buzzsaws. This corridor isn’t familiar. There is only one open doorway with a shining pale light gently leaking into the tiled hallway. Curious yet cautious they approach. They had a sharp greatnail after all.

They step into the light and freeze as they see the towering form of the Queen leaning like a drifting tree over a lush bush. Her back was turned to them, maybe they could-

“Vessel,” her voice, even though a whisper is loud enough to seem like she’s speaking at normal volume. Feral had noticed that with all of the higher and pale beings they’ve known. They all whisper.

Still, they had conflicting feelings toward their mother that they hadn’t yet put into words. They were avoiding her. They still want to avoid her.

“Come, garden with me,” she says, not lifting her head an inch from her work. Feral itches to disobey, but the urge feels wrong. It doesn’t carry the same gleeful note that comes with directly ignoring the King’s orders. They don’t have a solid reason to dislike their mother and it doesn’t feel right to force one either.

It’s not often they feel hesitant, but the Queen has a fae-like air about her. She could hide cruel remarks in what seem to be compliments. They had seen her pick apart arguments to the letter until her opponent had nothing else to say. She wields her words like she would a nail, and a battlefield of diction is an area Feral is massively lacking in. Hopefully she doesn’t want much. Hopefully she wants them to retrieve some confusing herb or something.

Carefully, they enter the room— a green house— and slowly make their way over to the White Lady’s side. They peer over at what she’s tending to. It looks like a bundle of dozens of little blue buds. Her hands glow underneath and the flowers respond by drifting up gradually and opening their delicate petals.

Feral watches quietly.

“They are not what they make themself appear to be,” she says after a long pause. Feral tenses. She reaches to her side where a basket of tools hangs from a kingsmould that Feral didn’t realize was there and picks up a humorously small pair of scissors compared to her massive hands. She carefully begins to snip the bases of those small flowers, collecting them in one hand as they fall, “My senses may be fading as things do with time, but I am not yet so blind to see that they know things that they should not.”

Feral never tried to hide their emotions and personality when they emerged from the Abyss, but they found themself smothering their nervousness before it could leak out of them.

“… they are nervous?” The Queen finally turns to look at Feral with her slightly glassy blue eyes, “I did not intend my words to be a threat, but their reaction proves my thoughts correct.”

Feral maintains as much eye contact as they can before turning their gaze to the floor. The full force of a pale being’s attention wasn’t a thing most bugs could endure. She watches them. Silent. Considering.

“It is odd. I have wanted children of my own for so long, yet what I have received from this world is curious,” she turns back to the blue flowers and snips two more into her hand, “one offspring that is meant to be empty, yet wishes to be a child, and one offspring that acts like a child, yet has experienced more than a child should have.”

Feral feels an odd twisting in their gut. They want to leave, yet they now also want to stay. The Queen is perceptive, that was never a doubt and perhaps another reason why they avoided her. The fear of being known. Yet… now they are known and it’s more of a relief than anything. They slowly look back to her as she places the scissors back in the basket.

“I have wondered why, but I cannot come to a conclusion that satisfies me,” she places three flowers in her spare hand and begins to braid the stems, adding flowers as the braids start becoming short.

“Why do they hold their branch as if it were the familiar handle of a nail? Even though they are forbidden from holding their own?” More flowers are added into the craft she is making. It’s beginning to look circular. Feral watches quietly.

“How do they know to get charms and spells on their own?” She glances over at them, but doesn’t meet their eyes. They sense her gaze on their horns. She looks back down at the flowers and makes some sort of adjustment.

"Why do they stare at things that are not there?” Feral’s throat tightens with that question- or observation?

The Queen finally finishes whatever is in her hands and takes a step over to the Feral Vessel and leans down with an alien-like grace. Feral blinks as she threads the circle of flowers over their horns to then rest right at the base of their horns. They do not know why she is doing this, but they would not dare fight it. They have no desire to.

Her hands drift down from their horns to their face to gently cup and hold. Their eyes gently flutter. The warmth from her root palms seep into their mask as if they were sitting in a hot spring. With the warmth comes a feeling of peace. Understanding. Their eyes close and before they can catch themself they lean into her touch. They miss how her eyes soften as she rubs one of her thumbs against their temple.

“I thought I had been mistaken before, but I have noticed that their pranks on my beloved Wyrm have grown half hearted,” Feral’s chest sags in a mock-sigh and, not knowing why, they nod.

“Has the novelty of his frustrated yells gone stale?” They shake their head, shoulders lightly quivering as if laughing. They crack their eyes open to catch the end of a smile from their mother.

“Why is it then? Why have they lost their fire?”

Feral stays silent as that was all they can do, but the tightening of their brow and the way they pull away from the warm comfort of their mother’s hands speaks hundreds of unspoken words. They glance at their hands, clenching and unclenching them.

When they re-awoke at the bottom of the Abyss surrounded by the thousands of masks of their dead siblings they thought they had dream nailed the black egg at the bottom of the Abyss again, though they did not know how. Soon they realized after getting to the top alongside their sibling that it was not a dream, but reality. To their delight, they could act on their spans of anger and spite they had toward the Pale King.

They thought that once they had their fun they would go and defeat the Radiance by finding the Godseeker in the trash pit. They would scale the pantheons and destroy the infection before the Pure Vessel was sentenced to waste away in the Temple of the Black Egg. It was simple so they didn’t think hard about it.

Until they realized they didn’t have the dream nail. They stressed for a bit, but then thought they could go find the seer and ask for it again! When they made their way to the Resting Grounds however, her little burrow was nowhere to be seen. They truly panicked then, scouring Hollownest for any moths they could find, but the few ones they found were not the Seer. When they held up their, admittedly, crude drawings of the dream nail they were met with confused stares.

They felt scared, frustrated, anger, desperation and then numbness.

They had been trying to run away from these thoughts, but now they were back and plainly showing on their face for the Queen to read like a tablet. There is a long silence between them before her melody-like voice whispers once more.

“Do they know how to write?” She asks.

They shake their head. No. They barely knew how to read and that was from noticing patterns in the tablets and signs they stumbled across in Hollownest. The Queen stands up and with her Feral’s eyes follow.

“I will teach you my child. Come, and perhaps while you learn you may give me your name. Feral is such a harsh word to be called by.”

Feral watches the White Lady as she walks deeper into the greenhouse. Did she just… say she was going to teach them how to write? They would never have a voice to speak on their own with, but to have the power of script in their grasp…

Excitement sparks their step as they quickly run back to her side, looking up at her with such strong wonder that she can’t believe she ever doubted her offspring weren’t hollow. The crown of flowers bounce on their head with each eager step.

“Now it will take some time for us to get the right writing utensils, but perhaps the first thing you could tell me when you can write is how you got that massive nail on your back.”

#hollowknight #hollow knight #hk #shitlordAU #feral vessel #ghost #the white lady #myart #fanart #writingwords #asks #sly #WOOOF #i am worded out #i also didn't want to draw WL over and over

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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 290: It’s Touya Time

Previously on BnHA: Iida and Hadou showed up like a couple of Pennsylvanias and Georgias to bail Shouto out at the last minute. Ochako and Toga had an exceptionally strange fight which consisted of Toga being all “guess what Ochako, I used your quirk to murder someone, how do you feel about that”, and Ochako being all “I do not like that”, to which Toga was all “:(”. There was some doll-stealing and some bookcase-yeeting, and then Toga left in tears because Ochako was all adamant that murder has consequences. Anyway so I have absolutely no idea what Toga is thinking now, but I guess we’ll have some time to stew on it, because we ended the chapter by cutting back to the Iida+Hadou+Shouto VS Afomura battle, which was interrupted by Gigantomachia and the LoV showing up like a bunch of Floridas to ruin everyone’s nice day.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi hands the mic over to Dabi and is all “take it away, kid.” Over in Room 315 of Musutafu General, Rei is all “may I please watch some TV” and the hospital staff is all “sure”, and so she tunes in just in time to catch Todoroki Touya’s Peabody Award-winning documentary “Number One Hero, Number One Fraud: The Todoroki Enji Story”, which is being broadcast nationwide courtesy of Skeptic and his magic laptop. Meanwhile in Jakku, Dabi is all “I’M TOUYA, BITCHES”, and Shouto and Enji are all, “(゜◇゜ )”, and Dabi is all, “anyway so just to sum it all up, because of how much of a jerk Endeavor was, I am now Evil.” Everyone continues to be all “(ﾟoﾟ)” except for Dabi, who is all “└(˘▾˘┌ )≡ ( ┐˘▾˘)┘≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛≡┏( ˘▾˘)┓≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛” for pretty much the rest of the chapter. Idk. Just let the man have his fun, guys. He’s waited a long time for this.

y’all I have a confession to make. I am technically not spoiled for this chapter thanks to my robustly paranoid system of spoiler-tag-filtering, which is extensive enough that it pretty much will catch whenever someone so much as breathes something even remotely new-chapter-related. that being said, I like to think that I am capable of making basic logical inferences! and so the fact that for the past 36 hours, my dashboard has pretty much nonstop consisted almost entirely of this...

...has led me to conclude that MAYBE, POSSIBLY, PROBABLY, BUT ALSO DEFINITELY, a certain someone is finally going to reveal his ~secret identity~ woop woop. lmao

anyway so everyone, please remember to act surprised though, as we would not want Dabi’s feelings to be hurt at all. he has been planning this moment for the last decade or so and I wouldn’t want him to feel like all of that effort was for naught. so just play along, okay. OH MY, IF IT ISN’T THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS’ MYSTERIOUS DABI. WHATEVER COULD HIS ARRIVAL POSSIBLY BE HERALDING, I JUST DON’T KNOW

“Dabi’s Dance” lmao. I’m sticking with Touya Time myself. ngl I had this recap title planned out for at least the past year or so. just waiting for that day to finally come

anyway so some people in some building somewhere are all “TURN OFF THE TV IN ROOM 315” and idk. I’m guessing the LoV is hacking the airwaves to livestream the reveal, as predicted

-- oh shit. UHHHHHHHH

did she always have this TV or did she get it just recently?? jfc of all the times for the hospital staff to finally loosen up

um... so that’s... (・＿・；)

well but I mean, she was gonna find out one way or the other at some point though. like you can’t really just keep her locked up and isolated from all news of the outside world forever and ever and ever. granted, this isn’t exactly the ideal way for her to learn this particular bit of information, but it’s not really ideal for anybody else either! EXCEPT DABI, THAT IS. have yourself a day you funky little terrorist

oh shit what is this?? it’s not live???

over in Jakku, a red-faced, sputtering Dabi makes a frantic grab for Skeptic’s laptop. “WAIT, NO, JESUS, NOT THAT TAPE!”

lol. but seriously Dabi are you even wearing a shirt. like I’m not one to slutshame anyone bro, but it’s just, exactly what type of mood were you looking to set here??

anyway so we really are cutting back to Jakku now, and Gigantomachia is all, “MASTERS”! which, I wonder if he really did use the plural? that’s right Machia, both of them in one place now! that sure is convenient for you huh

lol what is this with all this AFO monologuing. you’re really gonna make me read through this when I’m sitting here all sleep-deprived from election week. JUST GET TO THE TOUYAS. WE WERE PROMISED TOUYAS!!

sigh

“tee hee it’s fucking hilarious how goddamn powerful I am now lol”

alas, in spite of myself I do have two serious takeaways from this. one is that AFO is still controlling most of Tomura’s body behind the scenes, which both does and doesn’t bode well for Tomura (like, at least he’s not dying, but the long-term implications of this for his free will and such certainly are not Good). and two is that this confirms that Ujiko did give Tomura at least one powerful mutant quirk, which explains why he was still so deadly and indestructible even when Aizawa was using Erasure on him (since Erasure doesn’t work on mutant quirks, just emitter and transformation ones)

MEANWHILE ON TODAY’S EPISODE OF “TODOROKI SHOUTO’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD LIFE”

I like how he doesn’t actually say that he can’t take on Gigantomachia. just that he can’t take on him and Afomura at the same time. that’s confidence, baby. that right there is why you always draft Todoroki Shouto in the first round for your fantasy team

HADOU!!!!

OOOH, TOMURA’S ALL “MAN, THIS GIRL’S WAVE POWERS AND THIS KID’S ICE POWERS ARE A SUPER-STRONG COMBO DAGNABBIT.” YESSS I LIKE THAT, TELL ME MORE ABOUT HOW COOL AND POWERFUL THEY ARE

HOT DAMN LOOK AT THAT

um but not to take away from this exceptionally cool moment or anything, but why is Endeavor dying and shouting “RUN” down there in the corner um

excuse me. not to take away from How Bad This All Is, but!!

just a little, smol, IidaBaku for everyone. Iida, who apparently doesn’t know a damn thing about first aid and is all, “hmm that’s a pretty bad-looking puncture wound he has in his left shoulder there, I think I’ll just let his arm dangle freely like that and I won’t bother taking off his heavy gauntlets either. I mean. he’ll be fine, probably.” smh. at least Shouto probably cauterized the wounds

EXCUSE ME WHAT

TIME FOR MORE OF THAT GOOD OLD FASHIONED SHOUNEN RIDICULOUSNESS I GUESS LMAO. KACCHAN YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO. THERE IS A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, AND YOU LOST LIKE FOUR GALLONS OF BLOOD, BUT SURE. “PUT ME DOWN” HE SAYS. FIRST OF ALL, PUTTING ASIDE THE FACT THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT BE CONSCIOUS, THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO DO, LIE DOWN AT THEM?? LISTEN, YOU SWEET IDIOT. TAKE HEED, BELOVED DUMBASS!!

ah well. I guess he gets to watch the Touya Show now too then lol

LMAOOOO now Machia’s lifting Tomura carefully in his palm like a broken action figure and Spinner is all “THE FUCK, YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH WARMED OVER”

“oh hey there Spinner. well let’s see, I woke up from my three-month coma and destroyed a city, had my body incinerated, and am currently being possessed by a diabolically evil potato. but please, tell me more about everything you've been through”

AW YISS AND THE FOCUS NOW SHIFTS TO THE TODOROKIS. EVERYTHING IS PROCEEDING EXACTLY AS WE HAVE FORESEEN

Endeavor my dude. it’s as if you want to die here. also holy shit, that bit about his lungs definitely does not bode well for him either

MOTHERFUCKER

GO AHEAD AND SIGN YOUR OWN DEATH CERTIFICATE, WHY DON’T YOU!! FLAGS UPON FLAGS. JESUS CHRIST

meanwhile Dabi’s just waving at ‘em

lmaoooo please oh please Caleb please keep this ‘EYYYYYYY’, it’s fucking perfect kdlshk;hg

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: so as you will see very shortly, I completely missed this detail in my first read-through because I was so anxious to get to the reveal page, but THIS MOTHERFUCKER LITERALLY DOUSED HIMSELF WITH INSTANT HAIR DYE REMOVER THAT HE’S JUST BEEN CARRYING AROUND IN A LITTLE HIP POUCH APPRENTLY SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. MOTHERFUCKER. I HAVE NO WORDS.)

IS THIS THE TIME. IS THIS THE MOMENT?! HERE IT COMES SLKFHS BRACE YERSELVES LADS

EYYYYYYYYYYYY

OKAY EVERYONE JUST LIKE WE PRACTICED!! SURPRISED FACES ON THREE! ONE... TWO... (•̪ o •̪) !! okay how was that

LMAO ENDEAVOR

at least Shouto looks properly stunned. Enji just looks like endeavor.exe just straight up stopped working

meanwhile Deku’s out here trying to do the math on this latest surprise family reveal! first Tomura is related to Nana, and now this. what’s next. who are you related to, Spinner. he rips off his boots to reveal engine legs and declares himself Iida’s long-lost uncle

oh shit Touya

it’s as if a million fanworks suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly jossed. who knew that all this time he was secretly sporting a crop top scar

also, THIRTY?! holy shit son you been busy

la la la two-page spread of Touya casually driving the dagger into Endeavor’s hero career and rocking the foundations of hero society as we know it la la la

la la la!!!

OH IS THAT THE END OF THE STORY THEN

almost got confused for a sec. there’s two monologues happening at once here. Endeavor doesn’t even know that his dirty laundry is being aired out nation-wide as we speak ffffff

btw while I appreciate the close-ups of Enji and Shouto here for sure, ngl I would also really love to see everyone else’s reactions right now. SHOW ME BAKUGOU AND THE LOV YOU COWARDS

is his hair actually turning white all of a sudden?? your hair dye just reacts on command??

(ETA: in all seriousness though, the hell kind of hair dye was he using? all he has to do is pour a bottle of that stuff and not even lather it in and it’s just gone just like that?? what the fuck would have have done if it ever rained lmao.

and this motherfucker just goes and leaves the dye remover in afterwards, too. I have never dyed my hair in my life and even I can tell you that’s probably not a good idea, Dabi.)

is this it. is this the legendary Dabi Dance in action. lmfao

oh hey what the fuck

so you figured you’d just murder your innocent younger brother to get revenge on dad, huh. well that’s nice

is that really all there is to the origin story though?? feels like we’re still missing a huge chunk of it. what was it that finally sent him over the edge? or was the trauma of being created as Endeavor’s perfect little hero tool and then being subsequently rejected by him enough on its own? because I’m still kind of confused on the part where he goes from “abused and discarded by his father” to “killed thirty people and was plotting the murder of his own brother” to tell you the truth

(ETA: lmao the initial fandom reaction to this did not disappoint. listen guys. people can be traumatized and shaped by awful circumstances that are completely out of their control, and grow up to be people they wouldn’t have grown up to be if things had been better, and all of that absolutely sucks, but. it doesn’t mean they get a get-out-of-jail-free card for all of their future actions, either! the tragedy of this situation is that terrible things happened to Touya, and he then went on to do terrible things himself. the tragedy of it is that this is exactly how the cycle of abuse keeps repeating itself on and on and on. maybe one of the people Dabi killed had a child who will now grow up traumatized themselves, and potentially go on to pay it forward themselves when they grow up. the tragedy is that the eye-for-an-eye justice that Touya is seeking out won’t actually make anything better in the end. the tragedy is that we understand why Touya is so angry, but that anger has basically warped him into the gleefully sadistic dancing figure we see in this chapter who has stopped caring about anyone else’s pain or suffering and just wants his own revenge.

anyway. basically what I’m trying to say is that it’s possible for the concepts of “Todoroki Touya was an innocent child and a victim of abuse” and “Dabi is a grown-ass motherfucking adult who killed thirty people and PROBABLY NEEDS TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THAT” to coexist lol. like, y’all wanted your moral grey, well HERE YOU GO lmao, eat up.)

lol but LOOK AT THAT BOY DANCE HIS LITTLE HEART OUT though

Todoroki Touya confirmed not a fan of the Endeavor redemption arc huh. well we all saw this coming lols

anyways here’s a sexy Touya for y’all

you really are the most theatrical bitch I s2g lmao

also for real though, what is happening with his hair? anime team in shambles here. they’re probably just gonna double down and keep it red. too bad though cuz this is a surprisingly good look on him

SO MANY CLOSE-UPS OF THE TODOROKI FACES

friendly reminder that Dabi without a doubt REHEARSED this speech like a thousand fucking times. LET US FALL TOGETHER!! COME DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL. apparently if you fake your own death in middle school you will never mentally age past that point and will remain a permanent chuuni

OH LMAO THAT’S THE END

we really just gonna end on “DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL”, huh. very well then. you know what song to play, Horikoshi. one, two... YOU ARE MY DAD. YOU’RE MY DAD!! BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE

#bnha 290 #dabi #todoroki touya #todoroki enji #todoroki shouto #todoroki rei #bakugou katsuki #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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argylemnwrites · 3 years

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Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe)

Word Count: ~4900

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: A trip to meet the newest Beaumont isn’t off to the greatest start.

Author’s Note: So, since it has been ages since I updated this story, I feel like a quick recap is in order. Drake and Riley are in Cordonia to meet Savannah and Bertrand’s new baby girl, Caroline. They just met Liam’s new girlfriend, Iris, and her innocent questions about their postponed wedding made it clear that Drake is very frustrated by the fact they aren’t married yet. To catch up/jog your memory fully on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Drake groaned as Riley reached forward to start scanning across the radio stations.

“What?” she asked. He noticed her give a tiny shrug out of the corner of his eye as she leaned back after settling on a Greek Top 40 station.

“I knew it. I swear you pick this one just to annoy me, Liu.” Drake had made the mistake of complaining about this particular station on one of their first trips back to Cordonia, right before she’d gone back to university. It was all over-produced and sugary, and the DJs were just fucking obnoxious. Of course, that last point probably didn’t actually bother Riley, since she couldn’t understand a word they said.

“Maybe I just like this station.”

Drake glanced over and took in the giant shit-eating grin plastered across her face and just rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Let’s ignore the fact that this station plays a ton of songs in Greek.”

“I’m just trying to broaden my cultural horizons.”

“Says the woman who refused to watch Parasite because it has subtitles.’”

“If I wanted to read something, I would pick up a book,” she said, but she did lean forward again to flip over to a different station.

“Thank you,” Drake said, clicking on the turn signal as he switched into the right lane.

“You make it too easy sometimes,” she said, Drake noticing that she shrugged a little out of the corner of his eye. “If you didn’t act like that station was pure torture, I probably wouldn’t enjoy it so much.”

All Drake could do was shake his head. “You know, some people might not be so open about liking something out of spite.”

“No, it’s not spite.” Drake glanced over and raised his eyebrows at that, so Riley elaborated. “Spite is mean-spirited. I know you like my teasing too much for it to be spite.”

“Really.” Drake deadpanned, although he wasn’t able to hold back his grin and fully play along.

“Uh huh. What other explanation is there for you hanging around me after all these years?”

“I can’t think of a single one,” he said, earning him a flick of her fingers against his shoulder.

“Well I guess I will have to keep teasing you then. Otherwise I might have to settle for a guy who would have made me get up before six this morning.”

Drake looked over at her at that. Even after years together, her ability to jump from intensely sarcastic to gently sincere in an instant still amazed him. Last night, Maxwell had called and offered to pick them up from the palace after dropping off Mom and Aunt Leona at the airport, but they had a very early departure time. Drake had turned him down, feeling like it would be a shitty move to force Riley to wake up early on vacation, particularly since she never complained about using her limited vacation days to visit his family. Yet here she was, appreciative of his gesture that cost him nothing.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to spend two hours in the car with Maxwell.”

She let out a laugh at that. “Well, at least I rank as better company in your book.”

“Always, Liu. Always.”

“Seriously though, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Her left hand settled on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze at that, but she didn’t say anything else, just glanced out the window as Drake turned off the main road and onto the smaller one that led to the Beaumont’s estate. Within a few minutes, they were pulling onto the driveway. As they climbed out of the car, they heard an excited little voice calling from the direction of the estate’s entrance.

“Uncle Drake!”

Drake closed the driver’s door and pivoted around quickly, crouching down and extending his arms. Bartie ran across the drive and threw his little arms around Drake’s neck, laughing as Drake scooped him up and hugged him tightly.

“We saw your car diving! I wanted to go out. Say ‘hi’ like Mommy or Daddy. Uncle Maxwell said I had to stay inside. Had to stand still ‘til you stopped,” Bartie rambled off, barely taking time to take a breath.

“Thought that a little toddler darting in front of the car might not be the best start to your visit,” added Maxwell, strolling over to their car. “Hey, little blossom,” he added as he hugged Riley.

“Oh, you don’t get to just ‘little blossom’ me after you convinced Liam to keep me away!” she chuckled as she gave him a playful shove. “What happened to me being a Beaumont and always welcome here?”

“He told you guys?” Maxwell asked, turning to glance at Drake.

“Of course he did!” Riley said, drawing Maxwell’s attention back to her. She laughed a bit and shook her head before walking around the car to Drake and Bartie. “Hey, Bartie! Wow, you’ve gotten so big!” Drake passed Bartie over to her, watching as she gave him a squeeze, but Bartie started squirming in her arms, clearly wanting to be released from the obligatory hugs.

Riley placed him down, and he turned right back to Drake, grabbing his hand and tugging on it. “Uncle Drake, come see my new playhouse!” he said, attempting to drag Drake along after him as he started moving back towards the estate.

“Hey, my favorite dude, do you remember why Aunt Riley and Uncle Drake are here?” Maxwell said, crouching in front of Bartie.

Bartie kicked his foot against the driveway before he answered. “Everyone wants to see Caroline. But she’s boring. She doesn’t do anything!”

Drake was trying to figure out the best way to deal with his nephew’s clear jealousy, but Riley stepped forward and bent down next to Maxwell. “I would love to see your playhouse, Bartie.”

“What do you say?” added Maxwell. “Why don’t we show Aunt Riley while Uncle Drake goes to see your mom and dad and sister?”

Bartie was silent for a few moments, but then nodded, grabbing Riley and Maxwell’s hands and heading inside without a glance back. Maxwell chuckled, twisted around, and called out to Drake, “You remember where the nursery is, right?”

Drake nodded and raised a hand in acknowledgment, taking the time to pop the trunk and grab their luggage before venturing inside himself. He went straight upstairs, pausing only to place their bags in their usual room, before heading down the hall, turning to the left and entering the private quarters, making his way to the small room located all the way towards the end of the hallway, the last door on the right.

It seemed like just yesterday he was building a crib in there for Bartie when Savannah was moving in. The room looked much the same, the walls still a pale grey, the furniture all pure white. The layout hadn’t changed much, with the crib placed against the far wall beneath a painting of stars shining over a lake with a squid waving a tentacle in the air, the changing table right next to it, and the dresser next to the rocking chair in the corner. The only thing that looked different, as far as Drake could remember, was the sheet tucked around the crib mattress. Back when this had been Bartie’s room, the sheets were covered in a variety of zoo animals, the only splash of color in the otherwise greyscale nursery. Now, they were a black and white check, much more subdued.

Laying in the center of the crib, wrapped tightly in a light pink blanket, was a sleeping baby. Drake didn’t have a lot of experience with infants, but even he had heard you never wake a sleeping baby, so he stepped further into the room carefully, trying not to make a sound. When he reached the crib, he couldn’t help but stare. This was Caroline. His niece.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just taking her in, but eventually Savannah’s voice caught his attention.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a bit creepy to just sneak into someone’s home and watch their child sleep?”

Drake turned his head to look over his shoulder. His sister was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, an eyebrow cocked. “Hey, Sav. Maxwell sent me up here.”

“I should have known,” she said, walking over to join him by the crib, wrapping an arm around his waist as she gave him a half-hug. “I see you’ve met Caroline.”

“She’s beautiful,” Drake said, looking down again at the little baby in the crib, a few fine brown hairs covering her head. His niece. She was so tiny. It was kind of overwhelming, seeing her like this. When he’d met Bartie, it had been such a total shock that he even existed. Plus, he had been so much older than this. “Congratulations.”

“You can pick her up, you know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

Savannah let out a few little chuckles. “She is the one who disturbs everyone most of the time. Besides, she’s just about due for a feeding.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Drake. Just go wash your hands, and then you can hold her.”

And so a minute later, Drake found himself being handed his niece, so small and fragile-seeming. “Is this okay?” he asked, trying to make sure he walked the fine line between being gentle and holding her firmly as he tucked her against his chest.

“You aren’t going to hurt her!” Savannah laughed out.

“I just… I’ve never held a baby this little before. I don’t want to mess this up,” Drake said. Caroline felt so light in his arms. She was blinking, slowly becoming more alert after being shifted from her crib. Her bluish-grey eyes finally seemed to lock on his. “Hey, Caroline,” he said, “I’m your Uncle Drake.” But before he could think of anything else to say, she opened her mouth and let out a piercing wail.

Drake glanced over at Savannah. “What do I do?”

She laughed again. “God, what is Riley going to do with you when it’s your kid? She’s a baby, not an alien. She’s either hungry, sleepy, or has a dirty diaper.” But before she could poke fun at him any further, she reached over and shifted Caroline into her arms. “And since she’s hungry, I’m really the only one who can handle that.”

“Oh, do you want privacy or should I…”

Savannah shrugged. “I use a nursing blanket since Barthelemy walked in on me and made things real awkward.” And with that she settled onto the rocking chair, adjusting her top, positioning Caroline, then tugging a little cover over herself.

“What did Barthelemy do?” Drake asked as he moved to the side wall, leaning against it.

“Just acted real weird about the whole thing, talked to Bert about reminding me how a duchess should comport herself.”

“What a jackass.”

Savannah let out a sigh. “Bertrand was very apologetic when he relayed the message. But using a nursing blanket is not a big deal, and if it makes things easier for Bert with his dad…” She trailed off, staring down at Caroline, reaching under the nursing blanket to adjust something before she spoke again. “Having him around here has not exactly been some big happy family. I don’t know if his illness changed him, or if my memories of him were just fuzzy, but he’s an odd duck.”

Drake glanced over to the doorway. “Uhh, Sav. Not that I care, but the door is wide open and-”

She laughed and shook her head. “He’s at his rehab and physical therapy appointment this morning.”

“Ahh, gotcha. Any more talk of him trying to regain the title of duke?” Back when Barthelemy had returned to the estate, Sav had confided that it seemed like he was hinting that Bertrand should renounce his title and return it to his father. But since their wedding, it had seemed like most of that talk had died.

“No, he and Godfrey laid on the pressure after the honeymoon, but as soon as we announced the pregnancy, he backed off. His new mission seems to be to convince Liam that either Bartie or Caroline should be appointed as heir to the throne, which is crazy to think about, but it keeps him busy, so…” Savannah tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, letting the thought just hang there in the room.

Drake was bothered by the implications of that statement, but he knew that pressing Savannah on it would not really get him anywhere. As inappropriate and concerning as he found the implication that Savannah and Bertrand weren’t shutting Barthelemy down completely with that shit, he knew voicing his objections now would not solve anything. Discussing this all with Liam would make much more sense. So he just filed the statement away and moved to change the subject.

“Is it easier this time around, knowing what you are doing?”

Savannah smiled before glancing down at Caroline. “I think it’s more that I have a support system. And yes, I know it was my choice to not have one before,” she added before Drake could interject. “I guess in some ways at least I know what to expect, but Caroline is way more cranky than Bartie was at this age. Besides, I don’t think any parent ever really feels like they know what they are doing.”

“Nah, you seem to have it down.”

“It’s just a lot of trial and error. You’ll see when you guys have a baby.”

Drake ran his hand across his jaw, glancing down and watching his toes nudge into the baseboard. “I have a feeling that’s gonna be a while for us.”

“Oh come on! Don’t you want your kids to grow up with their cousins?”

Drake swallowed before taking a breath. “Of course I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Well, getting married to start.” Shit. “Not that I think people have to be married to raise a kid or-”

“Relax, Drake,” Savannah said, cutting off his apologetic ramble. “It’s not like Bartie was a planned pregnancy.”

“Neither was Caroline,” he thought, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to risk offending his sister or make her feel like he was judging her and her family.

“I know you have an old-fashioned streak-”

“Hey!” Drake interjected, but Savannah just kept on going.

“-but I think you guys should think about having kids soon. You were going to be married by now anyway! And isn’t that the modern, New York thing to do?”

Drake didn’t know where all this was coming from. Why she was so insistent about something that didn’t involve her. But man, he wished she would move on to any other topic of conversation. Because what could he say? That he was ready to be married with kids? That he would have no problem starting a family with Riley tomorrow? He couldn’t share that with his sister, at least not without sharing things about Riley he was pretty confident she would never want Savannah to know.

The fact that she had decided on a birth control option that would last for three years made it pretty clear where her head was at with the whole kid thing. She wasn’t really ready, not by a long shot. And until she was ready, there was really nothing he could do about it. Drake was just going to have to wait until she felt like the time was right, whenever that might be.

Maybe it was just that he was four years older than her. Maybe that’s why he felt so ready to take those next steps when she seemed so unbothered, so willing to just roll along. And to be fair, it’s not like they were ever going to be a couple like Hana and Catherine, who had timelines and life plans and five year goals. But deep down, Drake couldn’t help but wonder why Riley seemed so ambivalent about them getting married and starting a family. Was she unsure about something in their relationship, unsure about something with him?

It’s not that she didn’t want kids ever, as far as he knew. She’d mentioned wanting kids before. And they’d planned that first wedding without issue. But now it seemed like she was stuck. No rush to get married. Not thinking about having kids for years. And Drake didn’t know how to approach the whole topic without seeming like he was demanding things. Putting pressure on her. He was happy. They were happy. It was something his younger self would have never thought possible, and it should definitely be enough. But maybe he was selfish, because there were times where it just didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe it would be helpful to talk to someone about this, but that would feel like violating Riley’s trust. He knew Riley had her therapist she talked to, and he was sure their relationship was a topic of conversation there, but that was different. The therapist wasn’t someone who knew Drake, who was his friend or family. Anyone Drake would feel comfortable talking about this with knew Riley. Knew her well, quite frankly.

So for now, he was just going to have to keep moving forward. Keep hoping that Riley would start to feel ready soon. And at the moment, that meant sidestepping his sister’s questions and prodding.

“Geez, Sav! We haven’t even been here for an hour, and you are laying it on really thick.”

“Sorry, sorry! I know it’s not my business! If it makes you feel better, it’s not just with you. Kiara also told me I needed to back off when I started asking her about when she and Oliver were going to have kids right after their wedding.”

“Wait, when did Kiara get married?”

“Oh, Drake! At least you have an excuse for not knowing all the news now that you live abroad.” she said, shaking her head. “They eloped maybe… four months ago?”

And then Savannah was off, filling Drake in on tons of gossip he didn’t give two shits about. But it made her happy, and it was a safe topic of conversation, so who was he to complain?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley sat crossed legged on the floor in Bartie’s room at a little table, Maxwell seated across from her. Meanwhile, Bartie was hard at work at his toy kitchen set, organizing pieces of plastic food on plates. He wanted to show off and make “lunch” for them. Riley supposed that this was probably a common way for a three and a half year old to want to play, not that she had any such memories from her own childhood. What wasn’t common, she was sure, was the formal table setting Bartie had carefully placed in front of each of them, the perfectly pressed white apron he’d asked Maxwell to help him tie on, or the fact that he was arranging his plastic lettuce, eggs, and meat on actual china.

“Looks excellent, my favorite dude,” said Maxwell as Bartie carefully carried over several plates to the table. “What’s on the menu?”

“Steak tartare with a fresh greens salad,” he said before turning and heading back towards his little kitchen.

“Wait, aren’t you going to join us?” asked Riley, trying to keep from bursting out in laughter at the thought of a preschooler preparing such a meal.

“Aunt Riley, no aprons at the table!” he said his eyes wide as he turned back to face her.

“Yeah, come on Aunt Riley, where are your manners?” Maxwell winked before twisting to look over at Bartie. “You need any help untying your apron there?”

“No, I can do it,” Bartie ground out, tugging on the ties without much luck.

“Okay, well I’m right here if you do need help,” Maxwell responded. Within five seconds, Bartie was back, standing right next to him.

“Thanks, Uncle Maxwell!” he said, happily pulling the apron off and jogging over to hang it up nicely once Maxwell had it untied.

“You’re working hard to maintain your title as best uncle.” Riley said.

“Every time you guys come to visit, he suddenly wants to go fishing and camping instead of having dance parties with me.”

Riley laughed at that. “We’re new and exciting, what can I say.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re the favorite aunt by default.”

“What does default mean?” asked Bartie, plopping down on the floor next to them.

“It means no other choices, dude.”

“Oh,” Bartie said, nodding before picking up his silverware, pretending to cut into the plastic in front of him with surprising coordination.

“So has Uncle Maxwell been hanging out with you a lot since your sister came home?”

Bartie shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’ve definitely been seeing some jealousy,” Maxwell said with a nod. “I kind of thought this might happen, so I made sure to clear my schedule for a handful of weeks around the due date.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

Maxwell tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Hey, I’m favorite uncle for a reason.”

“Uncle Drake is my favorite,” said Bartie, causing Riley to burst out laughing.

“Dude, that wasn’t the deal! You’re gonna pay for this,” Maxwell said, leaning over and wiggling his fingers. “The squid’s about to attack.” With that, Maxwell started tickling Bartie, triggering wild giggles and Bartie rolling backwards on the floor.

“Bartie!” Bertrand’s voice cut across the room. Riley twisted over to find him standing in the hallway, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him. “We don’t make our guests sit on the floor, do we?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Bertrand, it’s fine-” Riley started, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

“What do we say, Bartie?”

“Sorry, Aunt Riley.”

All Riley could do was nod, accepting an apology from a toddler that felt entirely unnecessary.

“Good,” said Bertrand, “Now go wash your hands and get cleaned up for lunch.”

Bartie scampered out of the room, turning to his left in the hallway.

“I offered to play with him, Bertrand.”

“Well, he was told that you were coming to visit Caroline. He should have known better than to monopolize your time.”

Riley opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Maxwell grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

“How are you, by the way? I apologize for not being there to greet you and Drake.”

“I’m good, Bertrand,” she said as she pushed herself up on her feet, walking over and giving him a loose hug. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Yes, thank you. Drake and Savannah have Caroline in the private lounge if you want to go meet her. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check and make sure Bartie isn’t making a complete mess in the bathroom.”

And with that, Bertrand was off, following the path down the hallway that his son had just taken.

“Yikes,” said Riley as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Maxwell, looping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her in the opposite direction. “That is another reason I made sure I didn’t have any need to be on set or in LA for any writers meetings for a few months.”

“He’s more of a tight ass than ever.”

“I think he’s very anxious because he missed this part of Bartie’s life. The amount of research he did and the number of parenting books he read is insane. But any time any little thing isn’t what he expects, he flips out.”

“What does Savannah think about that?” Riley asked, following Maxwell down the stairs.

“Either she’s too sleep deprived to notice, or she’s just pretending not to see it. I decided to give him two months to settle into things. If he’s still snapping at everyone then, well… I guess I’ll have to stage an intervention or something.”

“Wow. Well at least you’re here to look out for the kid.”

“Yup, figure I can keep things normal-ish for him. Though I will say between watching Bertrand spiral and hearing Caroline’s shrieks, any faint consideration I might have given to parenthood has gone straight out the window.”

Riley laughed, prompting Maxwell to keep going. “I’m serious! I know I told you I was pretty sure I was good being the fun uncle, but these past few weeks have really locked in that decision. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Bartie is right - Caroline is boring. And loud. And I am so glad she is not my responsibility.”

All Riley could do was laugh more. “Do you need me to make up an excuse for you so you don’t need to be in the same room with her?”

Maxwell nudged her with his shoulder. “Oh, laugh it up! I don’t have any issues with her. She just confirmed that fatherhood is not for me, no matter how cute she is when she isn’t screaming her head off.”

At that point, they entered the lounge, so Riley dropped any further teasing she had for Maxwell. “Hey, Savannah. Congrats!” she said, walking across the room and giving her a hug.

“Thank you, Riley. It’s so good to see you!” Savannah replied as they pulled apart. Riley moved to sit down next to Drake on the couch, who was cradling a baby against his shoulder.

“This must be Caroline,” she said, watching as Drake tapped his hand against her back lightly.

“Either that or I have a lot of explaining to do,” Drake said, glancing over at her. Riley just smiled and nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“Drake, why don’t you let Riley hold her?” Savannah asked. “She should get to meet her aunt, too.”

“Do you want to?” Drake asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Of course,” said Riley, reaching over and helping him peel the tiny little girl off his chest, nestling her into her own arms.

Caroline was awake, her eyes roving around as Riley shifted back onto the couch more fully to try and get comfortable. After a few seconds, they seemed to settle on Riley’s face. All she could really do was stare back, taking in this child, this baby girl who might not have been planned, but would certainly be loved by so many.

“Yeah, I know I’m a stranger right now. But in a couple of decades, I’ll be the one you come to when you want nightclub recommendations in New York City.”

“Hey, I want in on that invite,” said Maxwell as Savannah let out a few chuckles. Riley glanced over at Drake, expecting him to be rolling his eyes or shaking his head, but instead was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. He was staring at her holding Caroline with such passion, such longing, she felt almost exposed. All she could think to do was drop her eyes back to the baby, not wanting to dwell on what that meant at that moment.

Unfortunately, Savannah must have noticed Drake as well, because she said, “Oh, I see that look. ‘A while’ my ass. I bet you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year.”

Drake let out a sort of sputtering cough at his sister’s comment, but before he could say anything, could so much as get a word out, Riley felt her own mouth opening. Her own response spilled out so glibly, without a second of thought. It was almost like she heard someone else saying the words, even as she knew she was the one speaking.

“Don’t give him any ideas.”

She felt Drake stiffen beside her, saw Maxwell shifting in his seat, and heard Savannah mutter out a little apology, but all of that was just background noise as her brain screamed at her. How could she have been so fucking stupid? What possessed her to say that? Or at least to phrase it like that? There were ways to shut down Savannah’s prying without implying that Drake had baby fever and she wanted no part of it.

The uncomfortable silence in the room was broken as Bertrand and Bartie entered. “Lunch is ready in the dining room,” said Bertrand, gesturing to the door behind him. Bertrand then stepped over to Riley. “I can go put her down,” he said, gesturing at his daughter still in Riley’s arms.

“Oh, sure thing,” said Riley, passing him Caroline before standing up. Savannah, Maxwell, and Bartie had already left the room, but Drake was still seated, his eyes locked on his knee that was bouncing up and down.

“Drake, I-” she started as soon as Bertrand had stepped out, extending her hand to help him to his feet. But Drake ignored the gesture, pushing his hands into the cushions of the couch instead.

“I’m hungry. Let’s just go eat, Riley.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t-.”

“It’s fine, Riley, Really. We can talk later” He nodded at her and started walking towards the door, leaving Riley to follow after him. And more than the brush off, more than his refusal to hold her hand, the fact that he’d not called her ‘Liu’ let her know that she had made a huge fucking mess.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

ICWAM: @thequeenofpixels @sunnyxdazed @sammie0220

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trr au fanfic #trr fanfic #choices fanfiction

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seihun · 4 years

Text

i have never once been jealous of park chanyeol in my entire life

ϟ pairings and aus :: oh sehun x reader, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff

ϟ word count :: 2.3k

ϟ author’s note :: this is technically a part of a (now completed!) au i’ve been posting, but it can also be read as a stand-alone!! so, i hope you enjoy!! i’ll link things later, if necessary :) more notes at the end!!

Sehun hears you before he sees you, sending a panicked text to Junmyeon before you come crashing through the front door.

Except you don’t.

Sehun swears that he’s hearing your voice, though, loud and clear. He shoves his phone into his back pocket, ignoring the repeated notifications from his elders, and trudges towards the window.

Sure enough you’re there, alright, and that is your voice. Through the small hole he’s made in the curtain, he sees you opening the back door to a car, obviously searching for something inside. His eyebrows pinch together for a moment, unsure of what you’re looking for, or who’s car that is, but he’s not left wondering for long.

Because Chanyeol rounds the rear of the vehicle, playfully shoving you out of the way as he reaches into the backseat himself. He can hear the two of you talking, laughing, but he drowns out the words; too focused on watching the scene in front of him.

Chanyeol pulls out two white plastic bags, full of what appear to be containers of food, but that’s not what Sehun sees. He sees your bright-eyed look of affection, the cheek to cheek grin painted on your face as you take a bag from Chanyeol. He hands you another one, a grocery bag this time; the exchange is quick, but Sehun feels like he’s been watching for a lifetime.

Chanyeol must have said something funny, because he has you laughing again, gently nudging his hip with yours before giggling himself. You have him goodbye with your free hand, before turning to head for the stairs to the front door.

He rushes to close the curtains, almost trips over a pair of Baekhyun’s shoes on his way to open the door for you.

“Hey, there you are!” you greet him, shoving the door closed with your foot. Sehun smiles back, taking the bags of food from you while you take your shoes off, following him into the living room after.

It’s easy banter as you help him unpack all the food. You hand him the bubble tea, and excited, waiting grin on your face. It’s almost childlike, the way you glimmer up at him, waiting for him to take the first sip—like a kindergartner waiting for their parent to taste a cupcake they decorated.

It’s good, of course. It’s his favorite, and Sehun’s satisfied smile seems to be all the approval to you need.

“I got spaghetti, and ziti, and three types of garlic bread—and also carbonara. We probably won’t finish it, but if there was this deal going on and Chanyeol insisted we should buy as much to get the discount, and I figured Baekhyun would probably—”

“I think you should ask Chanyeol out.”

If Sehun surprised himself with the words that came out of your mouth, he surprised you ten times over. At least, so he thinks, judging by the way you completely freeze, wide eyed with an aluminum foil take-out container barely maintained in your loosening grip.

“You—what? Why would I ask out Chanyeol?” you question, blinking slowly and setting the container on the coffee table.

Sehun shrugs, preoccupying himself with opening the rest of the food. He’s careful to avoid eye-contact, lest tears threaten to spill from his own. “Chanyeol’s a good guy,” he says, words quiet, slow, deliberate, “And he seems to like you a lot.”

“I mean—yeah, Chanyeol’s great, but I, um, I don’t think he likes me like that, though.”

“He probably does,” Sehun pushes, “He has no reason not to.”

“Hun, where is this coming from?” you ask with a chuckle. You shove his shoulder playfully, forcing him to look up from twirling pasta around his fork.

He shrugs again, bringing your mood down a notch. “I just—I don’t know, I think you deserve to be happy and date someone if you want. And Chanyeol’s a good guy.”

He’s twiddling his thumbs, biting his lip: telltale signs he’s anxious or lying, or in this case, both. He notices his actions, but stops them too abruptly, insighting disbelief on your features in the form of crinkled eyebrows.

“What—I mean, does something give you the impression that I’m not happy now?”

“No!” Sehun’s tone is pitched and jumpy. Then quiet and somber, “I’m just saying, you know. If you like him, you should go for it.”

It’s silent for a while, too long for Sehun’s comfort, filled only with longing stares and curious eyes. He dares not say anything else, untrusting of the sound of his own voice and his ability to swallow his sorrow; forces himself to stuff food into his mouth as a distraction.

“Thank you for looking out for me.” You scoot over, sitting directly next to him on the couch before wrapping your arms around his torso. Sehun borderline chokes on his garlic bread. “You’re a good guy, too, Hun,” you add, head resting against his bicep, words eerily close to those Junmyeon was murmuring to him just hours ago.

Neither of you say anything for a moment more, Sehun trying his best will away the scratchy feeling in his throat. He closes his eyes briefly, and sighs. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but the realization that he’d do anything for you crashes into him. It hurts just a much as it gives him a sense of relief.

He can’t hear the way your heart beats in your chest, can’t hear the whirlpool of thoughts threatening to overflow in your mind, but maybe it’s for the best.

“Well! Come on then,” you startle him, words breaking through the silence. You lean forward to reach for the food, “This pasta isn’t gonna eat itself!”

A few days later, Sehun sees you off to your study session with Chanyeol. Study-date is probably the more appropriate term. If you hadn’t texted Chanyeol at all over the weekend to say something, Sehun was sure you’d speak up today.

Because, like a self-inflicting fool, Sehun brought it up just before you opened the door to exit his car; and completed his act by sending you his best smile and most supportive words. After confirming you’d safely entered Chanyeol’s house, he proceeded to slam his forehead against the top of his steering wheel for approximately seventeen minutes straight, before driving himself to Junmyeon and Minseok to wallow in his emotions. As per usual.

“So, you told the girl you’re in love with to ask out some other guy, and now you’re upset that she might have gone and done just that,” Junmyeon ponders, looking down at his lap where Sehun attempts to bury his face into the pillow resting upon it.

Sehun groans, kicking his feet a little like a child. Minseok tuts at him from the loveseat, “When we said talk to her I thought it was clear that you were supposed to ask her out. Not encourage her to ask someone else out.”

Sehun continues moping, laying dramatically on his back, half of his limbs falling off of the small couch. Maybe encouraging you to ask out the guy he’s extremely jealous of wasn’t the brightest idea he’s had in terms of his goals to ask you out—but if you wanted to date Chanyeol, then so be it. Sehun wasn’t irrational enough to try and push the taller out of the picture due to spite.

“Part of me admires you, Sehunnie,” Junmyeon starts, tapping his fingers against the younger’s forehead, “But I can’t help but think that you’ve been reading this wrong.”

“You mean like he’s been reading everything wrong,” Minseok scoffs, “Sehun can’t tell when certain people are in love with him. No wonder he falsely assumes the opposite for others.”

“You’re extra sarcastic today,” Sehun grumbles. “It’s not appreciated.”

“Sorry I’m not team watch Sehun’s existential crisis unfold,” Minseok grins, “I told you the only way this is ever going to work is if you talk about your feelings.”

Sehun whines this time, flipping himself onto his stomach to resume burying his head into the pillow. The older boys laugh at him, Junmyeon doing his best to comfort his friend with pats on the back, but it makes Sehun feel like a patronized toddler.

“I need a drink,” the youngest mumbles soon after, pulling his face from the plush, “Or food. Or both.”

Lazily, he pushes himself from the couch, turning in the direction of the kitchen. The others follow suit—Junmyeon out of concern for both their liquor and food supply, and Minseok for purely entertainment purposes.

A curious knock on the door stops all three of the boys in their tracks. Junmyeon and Minseok weren’t expecting anyone else over—anyone who knocks that is. That ruled out the possibility of it being Baekhyun immediately, and with Yixing away visiting his parents, neither of them could rack their brains for an expected guest.

Still, it’s Minseok who makes his way towards the entrance, gingerly stepping up on his toes to look through the peep hole before opening the door with a knowing grin.

He’s greeted by your even smaller, fuming figure. Hands balled into fists with a kindergarten-esque scowl on your face.

“Where is he?” you demand, marching into their apartment before receiving an answer.

Minseok simply chuckles, letting you storm into the living area, and closing the door behind you. Shocked, both Sehun and Junmyeon are at a standstill. The older is equal parts confused and concerned, but Sehun is petrified.

You stop abruptly in front of him, and Sehun opens his mouth to start spewing apologies—for whatever it is that you’re upset about, he’s not sure, but he knows a few are due—but he doesn’t have the chance to, before you’re fisting his shirt in your hand, and pulling him down into a kiss.

If Sehun could describe the feeling of an out-of-body experience, it would be this. Kissing you, being kissed by you; something he’s imagined, dare he say dreamt of. Despite his eyes fluttering shut, it’s like he’s watching himself being kissed,unable to wrap his head around that fact that you stood in front of him, pulled him towards you, and kissed him.

He doesn’t have time to consider relishing in the moment, either. Because he hears Minseok and Junmyeon wooing in the background, loud and obnoxious, and because you pull away, parting your lips from his.

There’s a storm of emotions brewing in your eyes, a similar phenomenon happening in his own; but before he has the chance, to act, to say anything, your scrunch your nose, and jostle his shirt in your hold.

“You think you can just tell me to go ask out Chanyeol—which I didn’t by the way, because I’m not exactly keen on looking like a clown—and then come here and sob into Junmyeon’s lap?”

Sehun blinks. “Well, it’s not that—I—”

“You are the biggest idiot I know,” you say, “Who tells the person they like to go ask out someone else?”

“A fool!” Minseok hollers. Sehun doesn’t even have the clarity of mind to toss him a glare.

Flustered, cheeks a little red, and neck very warm, he sputters, “I thought you liked him!”

“Hun, I don’t get it,” you frown, untwisting your hand from his shirt in favor of running your palms along the length of his arm, “Why would you want to see me with Chanyeol if you like me?”

Sehun sighs before inhaling deeply. Slowly, he bends his arms to rest his hands on either of your shoulders, gently tugging you closer. He stares at you, eyes watery with a mix of emotions even he couldn’t hope to make out.

Carefully, his hands tread upwards, gently cupping your jaw in his hold and tilting your head upwards. “Because I love you.”

“Exactly,” the word leaves your mouth in exasperation. Sehun watches the confusion dance in your eyes. “It clearly made you upset, so why encourage it?”

“I already told you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips, “Because I love you.”

“I don’t—you’d make yourself sad because you love me?”

Minseok’s right about a lot of things—(as much as he hates to admit it)—so maybe, just maybe, saying what’s on his mind will end this once and for all. For better, or for worse.

So he sighs, then lets out a breathless chuckle, before stepping just a millimeter closer. “I just want you to be happy. And if Chanyeol could have made you happy, I would bear the pain.”

He thinks you might cry, with the way your eyes grow cloudy. If you were going to, you do a good job at sweeping the tears away, offering him an ironic chuckle instead.

“I’m happy now, Sehun. You make me happy, idiot. I’m sorry, though, if I didn’t make that clear before. I should have just said it—and I was going to that day, but then you started talking about Chanyeol, so I figured you didn’t like me like that and—“

“I do,” he cuts you off quickly, thumb padding against your lower lip, “I love you.”

The tow of you just stand there, staring at each other, blissfully happy for a little bit, before Minseok reminds them you of his and Junmyeon’s presence.

“So, are you going to kiss her this time, or?” Minseok chimes in, the dirty grin on his face never left. From beside him, Junmyeon chuckles, eggs on the teasing to hide from the fact that he was ready to cry moments ago.

Sehun pulls you into him with a roll of his eyes, squeezing you into a hug. “Fuck off,” he mumbles, giving Minseok the finger behind your back.

The older chuckles, opting to further his embarrassment by snapping a picture. Junmyeon’s loud laughter permeates the living room, as he immediately receives the image. Sehun’s phone pings in his pocket and he groans, letting his chin rest atop your head—that means Baekhyun and Yixing have that picture too, which means Sehun’s life is over. Unfortunate, because he feels like it just began.

You pull away first, not before leaving a fleeting kiss against the fabric of Sehun’s shirt—and even so, the action makes him warm inside. He could get used to this.

“They’re never going to let me live this down,” he mumbles, peeking as the elders chuckle at something on Minseok’s phone. Sehun’s going to have to remove himself from every group he’s ever been in.

“Do you wanna get out of here,” you pull his attention back to you with a laugh, gently lacing your hands together, “Maybe get boba or something?”

And Sehun grins, squeezing your interwinted hands before dipping down to kiss the crown of your head, “Absolutely.”

He doesn’t even care to grab his jacket from the kitchen stool, opting to snag Junmyeon’s cardigan misshapenly strewn over the couch. With your hands tied, Sehun makes quick work of heading for the door, leaving his older friends chuckling at his tinted cheeks and hasty mannerisms.

He should have known trying to get out without one last jab would be borderline impossible.

“I hope boba is code for go home and make out!”

“Minseok!”

ϟ more author’s notes :: this is the first (and probably one of the very few) times i’ll ever formally write on this blog, mostly because it took me a year and day to even plan and begin to write this LOL i think i’ll stay in my lane and stick to fake texts and instagram posts, i’ve learned my lesson. ps: hope all you team sehun anons are happy—and if it wouldn’t have taken 5k more words of writing, i would have made her talk to chanyeol about it too just to create some drama :’)

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an-organized-confusion · 4 years

Text

Mea Culpas & Revelations: The Play

And then the co-conspirator wrote some heartwarming/angsty Creativitwins/DLAMPR stuff (all cred to him here, basically a drabble he wrote on the fly):

Unknown Speaker: "What is the real reason you and Remus don't get along?"

Roman: unintelligible mumbling and forefingers pushing against each other.

Logan: "Speak up." Roman: "We both have to be at the center of attention. We get mad jealous of each other when the other gets more attention." Roman: "And then I chase him with a sword, and he attacks me with a spiked morningstar. It's just best if we're never in the same place at the same time..." Roman: "So we divided what we covered creatively..."

Logan: "And you agreed on this deal?" Roman: "YES, well... at first... But then when I noticed Thomas was disturbed by Remus I started working to push him to the side so that he'd pay more attention to me..." Roman: "And then I may have started a whisper campaign cause Janus told me that it was a good idea..." Remus: from a distance, "Whisper campaign, WHISPER CAMPAIGN. YOU MOTHER DUCKING ASSHAT. YOU STRAIGHT UP TOLD EVERYONE THAT I WAS GOING TO GET THOMAS MURDERED IF THEY DIDN'T LOCK ME OUT."

Logan: That... is partially on me. I apologize Remus, we were younger and the world was far more black and white than we see it now. Statistically speaking your suggestions were going to result in Thomas's death... If he always acted on them." Remus: "And how often did he act on them?!" Logan: pained, "Almost never. You could occasionally get him to lick things, or smell things that were clearly horrendously foul. But for the most part he's never acted on anything you suggested that could've killed him." Remus: "And so you all decided to lock me behind that door." Patton: "Not without misgivings." Virgil: "Not without feeling certain we were making a mistake.” Logan: "I made an error in judgement." Roman: silent

Virgil: "i was the first to volunteer to check on you..." Remus: sighing, "I know, Tickle-Me-Emo, I know. How did that work out for you?" Virgil: glaring at Logan and Roman, "They locked the door behind me." Logan: "I made a series of errors that year. I had deemed that you were the next greatest detriment to Thomas's ability to function. I allowed cognitive bias to cloud my eyes and disregarded the important things you did for Thomas in return for the things I deemed detrimental." Roman: still silent

Janus: "I'll admit, I went in after Virgil. I'm not sure who locked the door behind me." Patton: hanging head in shame, "I'm sorry Janus, that was me. I couldn't accept your existence at that point in Thomas's development. I was wrong, and Thomas didn't learn some of life's most important lessons until it happened the hard way." Remus: "And that's how we stayed, relatively muted to Thomas for oh so long." Janus: "You know there's just one thing that confuses me still." Virgil: glancing between them, "Why the door unlocked?" Janus: "Yes, that is the final question left to answer isn't it?"

Everyone looking between themselves.

Virgil: "You know I always sat nearest to the door. So imagine my surprise when suddenly I heard the lock click one day."

Everyone looks to Virgil.

Virgil: "So imagine my surprise when I turn the knob and the door opened back up." Remus: "Did you see who unlocked it?" Virgil: "No, looked like they did it from a distance using some string."

Virgil: "You've been awfully quiet for awhile now Roman." Roman: blushing, "Yea." Virgil: "Anything you want to contribute to this discussion?" Roman: "Um... I suck at apologies?" Virgil: "Yes, that is well known." Roman: "And admitting when I've been, or actively am wrong." Janus: "Yes, I spent years helping you deny that." Roman: "And I have a lot of feelings of Imposter Syndrome." Remus: "Well Imagine that, you tried claiming to be the entirety of Thomas's creativity." Roman: nods, but falls back into silence

Roman: faintly, "I did it" Remus: "Speak up brother, I know you're more than capable of projecting your voice to the audience." Roman: "I UNLOCKED THE DOOR." Janus: Jamming fingers in ears, "He said projecting to the audience, not deafening them." Virgil: "So the guy who insisted on starting this whole debacle is the one who ended it? I guess the next question is, why?" Roman: "I realized that I wasn't able to act that well without Janus's help to mask my own thoughts." Janus: nodding thoughtfully, "Surely that can't be the only reason." Roman: "I also realized that Virgil gave me the push I needed to write better material, cause I got complacent and coasted on past successes." Virgil: rolling his eyes, "Yes, yes you did. But, you had to have known we'd never have left Remus in that room." Roman: softly, "Was kind of counting on that." Remus: "Speak up brother, unless you want me to lend you my ear to speak into." Roman: chuckling, "I missed that."

Group does a double take.

Logan: "What?" Roman: "I missed my brothers sense of humor. Sure it's sometimes gross, or outright revolting. But he knew how to tell a good dirty joke." Remus: balling up his fists, "You let them out cause you wanted to hear me tell dirty jokes?!" Janus: placing a hand on Remus's shoulder, "No, look at his eye direction and movement as he's talking. I've studied his tells for years; He's lying." Roman: shouting, "BECAUSE I MISSED YOU. DO YOU THINK I FELT GOOD LOCKING MY OWN BROTHER AWAY?"

Roman: to himself, “You’re just as much an integral part of my identity as I am a part of yours. I’ve denied parts of myself all this time and it hurts Remus. It hurts far more than I ever thought it would. Not that I gave it much thought to begin with, I never was the type to give much forethought to harebrained schemes.”

Roman: "Yea, I've been impersonating both of us this whole time, and that felt great at first because Thomas only paid attention to me. But then I realized I don't enjoy always being in the spotlight. I'm not great at one man plays. I need co-stars, or perhaps just a brother. Sure we got jealous of each other when Thomas paid more attention to the other one of us, but we still had fun competing for that attention. It felt hollow without you, like this wasn't a victory."

Roman: "I'm just... tired. I needed a distraction from Thomas's gaze. Then I realized there were 3 perfectly good distractions locked behind a door." Virgil: murderous stare, "Distractions?!" Roman: holding hands up in a placating manner and in surrender, "At first, yes. But with each of you coming back out of that door I noticed that Thomas seemed... more alive. More... Himself, than he'd been since..." Remus: growling, "Since you had us locked behind the door." Roman: nodding regretfully, "I took a joke from Janus the wrong way. It was a moment of weakness when I realized that I could feasibly get away with it. Logan was far more literal back then." Janus: groaning, "Yea, remind me never to tell you a joke." Roman: chuckling in spite of himself, "Indeed, you're too good at telling them. Sounded like serious advice at the time." Virgil: "Yes, he's unfortunately a master of the deadpan face. I'm pretty sure only Remus can tell when he's joking." Remus: "Pshaw. I simply laughed at everything on the off chance he was joking. He couldn't tell if I was manic or appreciating his humor that way." Roman: "Anyways, Virgil you brought back that creative spark I'd been looking for all this time. At first I resented that you had it. But then over time I realized it's not that you had a spark, but that you were the spark I needed. Sure sometimes Logan unintentionally says something that sparks an idea, but you were always there pushing me to do better. Throwing out ideas that would make the audience laugh instead of boo because you were so conscious of their mood."

Virgil: "Or cheer. Plays can't be all laughter." Janus: "I believe comedies beg to differ." Virgil: "People can only laugh so much before they feel numb, and trust me; I'd know." Roman: "Then when Deceit finally decided to announce his presence, I felt like I was starting to get back into the groove of acting. The small things came back to me, like how to control my facial muscles to portray scenes better." Janus: "Those can be difficult to control without really focusing on them." Roman: "But the biggest thing was that I kept seeing signs of my brother all the time. He's in all of us in his own way. Logan's love of 'mad science', Virgil's love of 'horror' films, Janus's willingness to push the boundaries of what Thomas is comfortable with, and even some of Patton's.... Misunderstandings have been borne of Remus's influence."

Logan: looking at Patton, "Adultery, really?" Remus: giggling uncontrollably, "I still can't believe I taught him what that word meant before you got a chance to." Patton: blushing furiously, "I have said that to others sooooooo many times through Thomas. They must all think we're idiots." Virgil: rubbing his arms self consciously, "Pretty sure they don't. Logan is pretty good at damage control." Logan: surprised, "How did you know?" Virgil: "I sat closest to the door, the entire time. I was just waiting for someone to open it back up. It had a window, you know? We could still see things going on, and exert some influence on Thomas. But Janus and Remus mostly got bored and wandered away a lot." Logan: nodding, "I suppose that makes sense, and why Thomas always exhibited some degree of anxiety even after... I will never be able to say I'm sorry enough for the actions I've done. I can only hope to prove through my own actions and behavior from now on that I'm repentant for them." Virgil: "Aye, and I'll keep an eye on that myself. I'll damn well let you know if you're being an asshat again." Logan: chuckling, "Thanks, I need a good reminder that though the chance is infinitesimally small, I can make mistakes." Remus: growing bored, "That's great and all, but Roman still hasn't told us what I brought back to Thomas!"

Roman: looking at his brother as if it's obvious, "Seriously?" Remus: nodding fiercely, "I want to know!" Roman: embarrassed, "You brought color back to Thomas's world. The metaphorical paint palette has been lacking a good stark contrast. Plus we'd never be able to come up with something like Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus" without you to fill in the creative bits that I'm not good with." Patton: "He means that he sucks at them." Roman: looking at Patton shocked, "What?"

Patton: shrugging, "It's the truth Roman. I've sugar coated that knowledge all this time cause Remus wasn't around to demonstrate how to do it properly." Janus: in mock surprise, "Why Patton, did I just hear that you've been lying to not hurt Roman's feelings?" Patton: staring Janus straight in the eyes, "Yes, yes you did. You were absolutely right that there are times when it's not only appropriate, but necessary to lie. I realized that without Remus, Thomas had to have Roman around and functioning. He couldn't have a day off, so to speak. So I may have helped to inflate his ego to the point it's at to this day." Janus: nodding smugly, "Ok." Remus: "So what you're saying Roman. is that you couldn't:

♫ Ever hear the werewolf cry to the red blood moon Or asked the grinning cannibal why he grinned Can you sing with all the voices of the trash mountains Can you paint with all the colors of the foul wind?♫

Roman: scrunching face in disgust, "I loved that song." Remus: chuckling, "I know."

Roman: "But... Yes. I was wrong, you were all important parts of Thomas. I have stewed on that knowledge for awhile now and I've hated myself more by the day for that moment of selfish whim. *crying* I missed Virgil, Janus, but most importantly I missed my brother."

Janus: sharing a glance with Remus, "That's a sincere admission." Remus: nodding, "We'll never get along like we used to." Patton: "I think that's fine actually. We've all gotten older, and changed in one way or another. Nothing remains in stasis forever. Not the body, brain, or emotions." Logan: "I've learned a lot since then, and I've known for some time that I was wrong. I just... couldn't bring myself to confront my past." Virgil: "Yes, that's something I had to push you to do."

Janus: "Well, there's really only one thing left to discuss then." Remus: "Indeed." Patton: "You don't mean?" Logan: "I'm pretty sure they do." Roman: "Are we sure Thomas is ready?" Virgil: "Ready or not, he'll have to deal with it eventually. Best to treat it like a Band-aid and rip it off quick."

Faint tapping comes from a table in the distance.

Unknown Speaker: "So you expect me to show up?" Logan: "It is inevitable, you are an aspect of Thomas." Patton: "But not necessarily the final aspect of Thomas." Janus: "We all rely on you in one way or another." Roman: "Ditto." Remus: "My brother is emotionally overloaded, ignore him. I think you should come in like a wrecking ball when you make your appearance into his life. Just Kool-Aid man your way into the room." Patton: "I think that's a terrible idea. Do you know how much we'd have to pay in repair costs if he did that?" Unknown speaker: chuckling, "In time, perhaps."

Unknown speaker: "I believe we're done for this round table of the psyche?" Logan: "I've got nothing productive to add." Virgil: "I've certainly enjoyed having these again." Patton: "I feel like we made a lot of progress." Janus: "I feel like I'm gonna hurl if you keep up that always positive facade." Remus: "I CAN HURL ON COMMAND, DO YOU WANT TO SEE?" Everyone else: screaming, "NO!"

Unknown Speaker: "Very well then, I'm gonna head back to my mind palace. Thomas will meet me, eventually. If it's necessary."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #orange side #(maaaaybe)#(this is basically everyone apologizing to eachother and i found it so heartwarming)#(oh & i agree w/ co-conspirator's comment 'yes the irony of him ''not being great'' at one man plays is not lost on me')#(mod post)#web series

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cinnamoday · 4 years

Text

the second star to the right

kalim al-asim

female reader

semi angst

peter pan au

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

“heave-ho!” the loud thump sound made its way to your ears as you jolted awake, scared for what you might witness. was it a burglar? a kidnapper? it made you paranoid how your inner questions were left unanswered as you slowly grabbed a hard-covered book from your night desk to attack the intruder. at the corner of your room, you caught a glimpse of a boy snooping around, as if he was looking for something.

you stayed in bed, waiting for him to do something. if he really was a kidnapper, you would hit him with the book. there wasn’t much to steal here- it was practically a library, so you didn’t mind if he stole anything, really. you started to calm down until his figure crept up to the foot of your bed. oh, this ruffian is really asking for it. you thought to yourself, mentally smirking and applauding his bravery. as soon as you saw his face being illuminated due to your night lamp, you halted.

“ah! you were here!” the boy exclaimed, scurrying away from your bed. you raised a brow, confused. what in god’s name was he looking for that he didn’t deduce that there might be a person in the room? “may i help you?” despite the strange boy dressed in odd clothing literally breaking an entry in your humble abode, you spoke in a polite manner out of habit. the white haired boy looked up, his garnet red eyes pierced through you, causing you to get lost in the shining orbs.

shaking your head, you furrowed your eyebrows and casted a glare towards him, “i asked, may i help you?” you repeated, this time in a more threatening tone. the boy gulped at your sudden change of attitude and stood up straight, clearing his throat, “you don’t know me?” you mentally rolled your eyes. “this is preposterous. i wouldn’t associate myself with someone that would enter people’s bedrooms without permission! you’re basically trespassing!” you scolded the young boy, in spite of the fact that he might be about your age if he were a tad taller.

“mm, i see. you’re one of the few who haven’t heard of me,” the boy deduced proudly. you inwardly sigh, awaiting his excuse of why he was in your bedroom in the first place and how he even got to the top floor without the use of a rope or a ladder. you were, in fact, at least curious to hear how. “my name’s kalim! kalim al-asim. and you?” you frowned and crossed your arms, “y/n. y/n l/n.” you deadpanned. kalim flinched at your uninterested yet stern tone and nervously whistled comically. “aha,” he started, “you see, i’m looking for my shadow! its been escaping my clutches recently and i have trouble finding it.” kalim sighed, scratching the back of his neck at the thought that he could’ve had the wrong house- again.

you were bewildered, to say the least. what a ludicrous story. “i don’t believe you.” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose due to annoyance. kalim bit his lower lip, full of pride. “but i am telling the truth! maybe it’s because you’re a grown up that you don’t get it.” okay, now you were offended. did you look old for your age? must be the eye bags, you thought to yourself but brushed off the offensive statement coming from this boy’s mouth and glared daggers at him. “fine, fine. perhaps you had gotten the wrong address? there are thousands of locations where your ‘shadow’ could be lingering around in london.” you suggested, sarcasm dripping from your voice when you said the word “shadow.”

kalim stared at you for a solid minute before turning his attention to the bookshelf near your door. you raised an eyebrow at the area he was focused on and flinched when he jumped towards your bookshelf, knocking all the pieces of literature down as well as its container. you bit your lip upon the shelf making a loud sound, possibly waking everyone up. “kalim!” you hissed silently as he strangled a black figure. your eyes widened. my word, he was telling the truth... your mouth opened from shock, eyes not believing what they were seeing.

“i told you, miss! my shadow must be here!” kalim stated proudly as he proceeded to continue strangling the strange, black form. you got out of bed and walked up to kalim, staring at the shadow in awe. how peculiar it was, the shadow being separated from its beholder. “how are you gonna put it back on?” you asked kalim, your eyes not removing its glance from the shadow. kalim thought for a moment, “soap?” you broke your gaze and stared at kalim strangely. did anybody teach this boy some logic?

sighing, you motioned kalim to sit on your bed while you look for your sewing kit. you hate to admit it, but your sewing skills weren’t as praised as your sister. they said that she had talent while you had the looks but you weren’t sure how to feel about that. brushing off the negative thoughts, you grabbed kalim’s shadow by the foot and started to sew it beneath kalim’s shoes, which were surprisingly barely dirty. did this guy use new pairs of shoes?

after sewing the shadow back on, you huffed and stood up, admiring your work. kalim grinned from ear to ear and jumped up, which caused him to float a bit in your room. you could not believe this. how is this even possible?! kalim is flying. flying in your very room with no strings attached- literally.

“thank you, miss!” kalim laughed, still flying around your room in joy. you sigh before crawling back to your bed and underneath the warm covers. kalim noticed how you weren’t as happy and flew above you. “what’s wrong, miss?” kalim asked, his eyes gleamed with concern. it has been years since you saw eyes that contained genuine concern for you. “nothing. shouldn’t you be going along your merry way?” you asked, voice muffled to kalim due to the covers. kalim hummed before shaking you and pointing to your knocked over bookshelf. “what about it? are you going to clean it up?” kalim gasped and shook his head, “cleaning is for grown ups! i was going to ask about the books you read!”

you were confused. no one was ever interested in you nor what you read. it felt... refreshing to say the least. you glanced tiredly at the scattered books on your wooden floor and sighed. “do you want me to lend you some? i don’t really mind if we don’t meet again and you never return it.” you let out a sigh as you escape the warmth of your bed and walked to the books, picking up some stories that kalim might find interesting, despite his knowledge that, you believed, didn’t exist. no offense.

“hm, i suppose this book might be to your liking? oh, and this too,” before you knew it, you were carrying a stack of possibly five books and handed it over to kalim. they were all fairytales that you read when you were a child and you only ever read the said books whenever you had nothing else to do. they were short lived entertainment. kalim’s eyes practically sparkled when he saw the covers of the books. they were pretty appealing to the eyes of children- not that kalim was one but he sure acted like a child.

“thank you so much, miss! i’ll read this to the lost boys and return it!” kalim giggled before grabbing them from your arms and flying upwards. “you do know that you can just call me y/n, right? we’re practically the same age.” you stated, trying to get through to kalim. miss was too formal and you weren’t used to it at all. kalim raised an eyebrow, “hm, yes we may be the same age but you act like an adult. you’re too mature, which is why i think its more appropriate if i call you miss!” preposterous. absolutely preposterous. were you that serious? you always were told that you were more mature than your sister.

“that speaks for you as well, though!” you spoke, defensive. you didn’t even know why you were arguing with kalim at this point. it was all child’s play. kalim watched with sparkling orbs as you tried to defend your statement. “how so?” kalim urged, trying to get you to break out of your shell. you flinched. was this boy even thinking straight? “you said we’re the same age, yet you act like a mere six-year-old!” you silently yelled, taking note of your family still asleep. “are you still mature for your age miss? you just uselessly argued with me over an immature topic.” you bit the inside of your cheek before sighing. although, that statement was the most mature thing that came out of kalim’s mouth since the moment he met you. “you should leave.” kalim laughed before nodding, “good night, miss! please continue to believe in me!” and with that being said, kalim hopped outside of your window and flew to god know’s where.

this must be a dream.

the next night, kalim came back (much to your surprise). you hate to admit it but you kind of missed him- despite the fact that he was annoying you last night. he kept his word and returned the next night to bring back the books you lended him. “miss, the lost boys love it!” kalim exclaimed, sitting comfortably on the edge of your bed. you were pretty confused as to who these lost boys were. “okay, tell me: who exactly are the lost boys?” you wanted answers. were they literally lost and kalim takes care of them? kalim blinked a few times before chuckling, “they’re boys who weren’t claimed by their parents,” kalim sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i took them to neverland so they could have a place to stay- i’m practically their parent!” kalim added, as though he was proud.

meanwhile, you were still confused. weren’t children who parents didn’t want sent to the orphanage? how did kalim come across them? surely he wasn’t targeting them from the moment they were born, right? letting out another tired sigh, you stared at kalim, “so, you take care of them?” kalim nodded excitedly, eager to talk more about the lost boys. “yes. but, hmm, they still need a mom,” kalim thought out loud. now you were cautious. was he referring to you? “oh, i got it! you can be the mom!” kalim announced, getting closer to you. you flinched, “what? why?” you asked as kalim giggled, “because you’re mature and you’re a girl, right?” the white haired boy tilted his head to the side. you sighed, “i’m not going to be a mother! we’re both seventeen-years-old! i’m too young!”

“in neverland, you can be whoever you want! you can be older there!” okay, was this guy actually a twenty-year-old in disguise? he’s using that tactic kidnappers use. “no. i’m not going anywhere.” it’s not like you can if you wanted to. you’re bound in this house by your parents. kalim whined like a child, “aw, fine,” he huffed, “how about giving me some more stories?” kalim looked at you with anticipation. you narrowed your gaze and darted your eyes towards the bookshelf that was neatly arranged, unlike the messy state it was in the previous night.

“wait, before that- i want to talk to you about the book i read.” okay, now you were interested. you wanted to see how this kid thought of the fairytales. since all that neverland talk was probably real, he most likely hasn’t had any children’s books. yes, you asked your parents about him and they told you stories. “hm, what about it?” you queried, not looking up from the novel you were reading. it’s not that you didn’t want to come off as rude, it’s just that you hated eye contact when participating in a conversation.

“well, in this one scene, the prince pressed his lips on the princess’ and she came back to life!” kalim explained, making exaggerated hand motions that you didn’t even want to see clearly. oh. oh dear lord. is he gonna ask you what’s a- “so i was thinking to myself, that word is called a ‘kiss’, right? can you show me?” you flinched and closed your book out of shock. this boy cannot be real, can he? how was he raised? “uh, i don’t think it’s appropriate for me to tell you...” you trailed off, voice getting quiet and face flushed from embarrassment. “eh? why not?” kalim whined, tugging on the sleeve of your night gown. “b-because only people who love each other get to k-kiss.” oh for pete’s sake, you scolded yourself. keep it together, y/n. you sound like a high school student being taught how babies were made.

“huh? but i love you, miss!” okay, now you were sure he wasn’t being serious. “no, you don’t. you’re just saying that.” you sighed, gently slapping both of your cheeks to calm them down. “i do! i’ll prove it to you if i liked that kiss!” the way he was throwing the word kiss around made you even more embarrassed. you were considering kissing him on the cheek but that idea was thrown out of the window the more he mentioned the said word.

“fine, i’ll give you a kiss!” you hissed, turning your head away from him. “close your eyes first...” you mumbled, grabbing something from your drawer. kalim’s eyelids had been shut, a small smile playing on his soft looking lips as he waited for the “kiss.” you bit your lower lip and gently poked the pin cushion to his cheeks, face a bright red. “was that it?” kalim piqued up, sounding a little disappointed. he then opened his eyes and saw the pin cushion pressing his cheeks.

“what! miss, that wasn’t a kiss!” he complained. you laughed before withdrawing back your extended arm, “i told you- only people who love each other can kiss!” you explained, face still tinted with a blush. “hm, fine, but i’ll definitely make you love me!”

oh thank god, he finally understands. you let out a sigh of relief, taking his statement light heartedly. “i still want that kiss, miss...” kalim pouted, fiddling with his fingers. you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, pecking him quickly on the lips. wait- you were supposed to kiss him on the cheek only! kalim flinched at the contact and let out a hot breath which fanned your face as you pulled away. “... can you do that again?” kalim whispered, staring at your e/c orbs. his face illuminated by the warm light of the lamp. he was actually pretty tolerable in this state. “n-no, i’’m going to bed-”

kalim hastily grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed you again, but the kiss lasted longer than the last one. you squeezed your eyes shut, not knowing when he would stop as you were desperate for air. your face felt hot as kalim pulled away, a smile on his lips. “good night, miss. continue to believe in me.”

almost every night, kalim would come by your house. on this particular night, however, you needed him. you needed someone to talk to- someone who would listen. kalim immediately noticed how you weren’t your usual self who would playfully punch him or would flare up when he flirted with you. “what’s wrong, miss?” you two were on the roof top this time- you wanted to get away from all the problems for even just a short while and find comfort in the stars.

“nothing.” you said abruptly. you couldn’t tell him, no matter how much you wanted to. kalim noticed your tone. it wasn’t harsh. he decided to let the topic go and give you some more time. oh how considerate he was when it came to you. thats what you love about him. yes, i did say love. you harbored feelings for the magical teenager that trespassed in your bedroom the first time you met him. he had a charm that you longed for and that was how interested he was in what you had to say. he was a friend. a really good friend you never want to let go of nor lose.

“oh, are you thinking about the stars? well, let me tell you about neverland.” ah neverland, another one of kalim’s stories that you’ve been interested in ever since he mentioned it. he only ever told you about what’s inside neverland and the people inhabiting that world. kalim scooted next to you and extended his arm to a very noticeably bigger star. “see that star over there? look at the second one to the right.” kalim stated as you followed to where his finger was pointing towards.

“that one? what about it?” you asked, hugging your blankets closer to you. “that’s where neverland is! it’s pretty near, i can take you there if you want to.” kalim suggested. you wanted to go to neverland with him. maybe if you do, you’ll be able to escape these problems of yours. maybe you don’t have responsibility there. maybe you’ll even have an actual caring family. the thought made you tear up but you quickly wiped the droplets that escaped your eyes.

“i-i can’t go. sorry,” you always refuse his offer and he always smiled and nodded, understanding your decision. but this time he frowned. he didn’t ask why you didn’t want to go and you loved him for that but the look he was giving you right now asked the said question. the pleading look in his eyes, how they were glossy, how they looked like they were about to spill tears at any given moment.

“h-hah... you can tell me, you know? i don’t like seeing you sad.” perhaps it was time you do open up to him. you know a lot about him but he barely knows anything about you other than your age, name, address and your love for books. maybe if you tell him then perhaps things would change. you inhaled the fresh air of london and turned to face kalim (who you noted was inches apart from you). this sudden closeness reminded you of when you two first kissed- you were still pretty embarrassed about that.

“i’m getting married,” you whispered, though kalim heard it crystal clear. “why...? don’t you... love me?” his voice cracked as he went closer to you. yes, you do love him. you love him more than anyone on this miserable planet. you loved him to death. you would do anything to get to be with him as cheesy as it sounds. “i do,” you began, a cloud formed due to you talking, “but it wasn’t my decision.”

your parents were marrying you off to some guy you don’t even know. you’ve never met him. you don’t even know his name! tears rolled down your cheeks as you awaited kalim’s response. the white haired male was stunned and shocked. he didn’t know how to respond. what should he say anyway? god, he should’ve asked the mermaids for help about this sort of thing. “why are you marrying him if you don’t even love him?! that shouldn’t be allowed!” kalim clenched his fists and shook violently both from frustration and sorrow. he can’t lose you. not yet. not ever.

this is why i hate grown ups... kalim thought to himself.

“i don’t want to, kalim. i swear i don’t love him but i have no choice...” kalim gulped and bit his lower lip to prevent himself from crying although it proved to be useless as he felt hot tears stream down his face. you lifted his chin up so you could get one last good look of him. the last day. this is the last day you’ll be seeing each other...

“y/n...” kalim’s voice cracked once again. the way he said your name in such a tone made you cry. you hated this. why must the world be cruel? why did you take his presence and existence for granted? it was the first time kalim ever called you by your name. kalim grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his. “y/n, i don’t have much time,” he whispered, grabbing both of your hands tightly, afraid he will lose you. “w-what do you mean?” you asked, frantic. what nonsense is he spouting now?

“kalim, this isn’t a funny joke. don’t say those kinds of th-”

“it isn’t a joke!” kalim growled but immediately looked up and softened his expression. “i’m-i’m going to disappear, y/n.” you flinched at this claim. how? is this why he always said to believe in him every time he leaves for neverland? you always believed in him? did you not try hard enough? “why? i always believed in you...” you said in a soft tone, not taking your eyes off of his red orbs.

“you did great but... apparently not everyone does. i’m just someone who was made because people created stories about me. i’m not actually a person, y/n. that’s why my life depends on people’s belief in me.” he explained, his figure slowly dissipating into nothing. more tears streamed down your face. “n-no...” you whispered.

“but hey, listen to me,” kalim started, a smile still playing on his lips as if to reassure you and to stop you from crying. you were attentive. you’re never going to forget how this boy had become your one and only friend. “remember the second star to the right. remember it with all your heart. if you do, something good will be brought upon you, i promise.” you bit your lips, closing your eyes shut. you couldn’t take this anymore.

“good night, miss. continue to believe in me.” kalim whispered, the feeling of his lips connecting to yours once more. it was a bittersweet kiss you longed for. you didn’t want it to end and before you knew it, the feeling of warmth disappeared from your lips and felt as if a part of something was taken from you.

he’s gone. the only person who made me feel alive and wanted... is gone.

“heave-ho!” you flinched at the voice. what on earth? were you hallucinating? “kalim, was that you?” you asked the white haired male as you nudged him. kalim looked up at you, “hm? oh, yeah it was me! i heard it from a dream, didn’t really think it would surprise you.” he stated as you continued to snuggle in his arms. warm. you thought to yourself.

“why did you dream of that old phrase/ i haven’t heard it since i was a child,” you chuckled and closed your eyes, feeling drowsy. the moon illuminated the outlines of your face that kalim took his sweet time to admire. he missed you. th moment he saw you enter night raven college. he felt a familiar feeling in his chest.

“good night, miss. continue to believe in me.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

a/n: sobbing dhmu. im crying bc of my own fic FUCK

#kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland kalim al asim #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim x reader #x reader #twst imagines #twst kalim al asim #twst angst #twst fanfic #twst #female reader #angst #peter pan au #peter pan #HAPPY ANGST

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 10

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 10 - Back to the City

Black shadows rose from the middle of the road, eyes without pupils staring at Lin Yan's car. There were ragged children with skin stretched tight on their bones running around, and even women in palace costumes, stretched out their long white hands, scratching the body of the car with their nails. It was an apocalyptic escape. Lin Yan took a deep breath and accelerated to two hundred and ten kilometres per hour. The trees on either side of the road became looming shadows, and he couldn't clearly see anything on the road. He was firmly pressed back onto the seat by the impact of the acceleration. The uneven dirt road and the speed made Lin Yan worry that the car would flip over at any second. Even so, he didn't dare take his foot off the pedal for a second. The car was like a strong black wind, cutting its way out of the ghost formations in the mountains and forests.

Escaping towards the land of the living.

Just before the needle on the fuel gauge dropped to empty, Lin Yan finally saw the city. He got on the Fifth Ring Road and he rolled the window down a crack. The cool night breeze dissipated the heavy bloody air in the car.

Cities, traffic, human voices, normality.

Lin Yan let out a long sigh of relief and relaxed into the chair.

The events of the exorcism in the mountains seemed like a dream as he drove through the bright lights of the city, but the evidence of the event sitting in his passenger seat was very reak. Lin Yan slammed his hand against the steering wheel, thinking that his life must really be hell. The most damn thing is that, in an era in which people lived in peace and well-being, and the leaders lived in happiness, leading the future of the country with diplomacy and socialism, he had saved a ghost who came to kill him from the hands of a master who didn't know what was going on.

Lin Yan found a secluded place to stop and rest.

"Man, celebrate, we made it out."

There was no answer. The ghost next to him seemed to be asleep, his eyes closed as he leaned on the seat, his black hair hanging down to cover most of his face.

He didn't die, did he? Lin Yan's heart clenched, and then he realized that this thing was already dead, and there's no way that it could die again. No, he couldn't say anything. Lin Yan glanced at him. His quiet manner with his eyes closed was no different from that of a living person. He was even breathing, his chest slightly rising and falling regularly. Dressed like a Confucian disciple, with loose hair that was very inconsistent with traditional practices, his clothes were stained with old blood, but the fabric was still visible beneath it. Looking down, bare feet peeked out from beneath the straight hemline. They were covered with a series of mottled cracks and old wounds like he had been walking for a long time.

Lin Yan sighed, thinking that this time he definitely offended his ancestors. He hesitated for a while, debating between abandoning the car and fleeing or committing suicide, and finally decided to wait until the "person" woke up. "Don't believe the words of the dead, ghosts only remember what they want." The lines from the movie "Voice" flashed in his mind. Lin Yan shook his head, his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The look in the ghost's unwilling and nostalgic eyes looked too real.

Suddenly, Lin Yan was not afraid of him. He hesitated and hadn't bothered to take a good look at him back in the temple. Ghosts. . . ghosts were invisible and intangible. What does it look like?

Through the ghostly tangles, Lin Yan stretched out his hand and slid away the long hair covering his face.

For a moment, he had prepared himself to see a rotten face, even a skeleton, completely lacking any facial features, but when the black hair fell behind his ears, Lin Yan was taken aback when the man’s sleeping face was revealed.

It's. . . a ghost. . . how could he look so good?

His face resembled those from ancient times, with long eyebrows stretching to his temples, a straightened nose. Between his eyebrows, there was a brilliance that did not belong to this era. His restless sleep was probably exhaustion from what the temple master put him through. He was frowning, curled up in his sleep, as if he was still protecting the little wooden block.

What? Such a good complexion. Maybe it wasn't all that bad having an early death to keep these looks. What the hell, this ghost looks good.

The skin was also very smooth, like a jade carving, with invisible pores.

Lin Yan glanced at him sympathetically, and his heart lurched. This guy didn't just think of me as his dead wife who he didn't had died years ago. He was desperately trying to achieve this virtue for some surrogate substitute. The things that happened in the temple made Lin Yan feel a little guilty. He couldn't help but brush away the broken hair from his neck and gently wipe the dried blood on his face with the back of his hand.

The ghost startled and his eyes snapped open, staring at Lin Yan with spite.

Lin Yan yelled out of fright, and he instinctively covered his neck with his hands.

The target of the attack this time changed to his shoulders. A pair of infinitely powerful ghost hands squeezed Lin Yan's shoulder blades harder and harder. He could almost hear the rattling of bones, and there was a burst of pain in his shoulders. This shit was endless. Lin Yan panicked and scrambled for the car door like a wild animal, but when the car was parked, it was automatically locked and could not be opened.

The car was so dark that he couldn't find the button that controlled the door lock. Lin Yan had to fumble around near the small green light on the control panel. The ghost's hand slid off his shoulder and touched the wound on his forearm. After hesitating for a while, he leaned over and lowered his head to gently sniff the newly scabbed-over knife wound.

Lin Yan remembered that he was still sprinkled with the Yin and Yang energy stone powder, there was only a human scent remaining at the place of the cut. He couldn't help but rub his shoulders and let out a laugh.

"It's me, don't smell it. It's not the real scent."

The ghost gave a long sigh and pulled Lin Yan's arm into his arms. Lin Yan looked at him blankly. All the energy he had disappeared with the obedient look and he had to let go of the door handle. Leaning towards the passenger seat, he rested his face on the ghost's chest.

"Brother, I'm sorry about today. You were almost hung up by the old monk without even knowing it. I owe you, let's not take this as an example, though."

The ghost's arm was wrapped around his waist, and Lin Yan's cheek was tickled by the long hair.

"Do you miss your wife?" Lin Yan grabbed the hand on his waist. He intertwined their fingers and whispered, "I have always missed my ex-girlfriend, but once you break up, it's done. You have to move on."

"It was wrong for me to dig up your grave, but this is what I'm learning in school. Whatever my professor tells me to do, I have to do it. Don't pester me, reincarnate instead. In due time, come back as a young lady or little loli in your next life and find Uncle for some sweets."

"When you grow up, Uncle will introduce you to someone."

". . . Forget it, you don't understand anyway."

Quietly in the car, the neon lights of the city reflected on the windows, and the Apple logo on the top of the tall building in the distance exudes cold white light. There were groups of people coming and going on the road. Groups of little girls changed into their summer clothes and carrying shopping bags, laughing and playing together. The boy was wearing headphones and concentrating on leaning against the window to play mobile games, probably because he was impatiently waiting for his girlfriend.

In the Audi parked by the roadside, Lin Yan and the ghost leaned against each other. The hustle and bustle outside the window seemed to fade away. All that was left was an unusual sensation. In an era that promoted independence and material desire, a bustling city, and impetuous life, full of voices, never really connected with him.

He was often driven to despair by such loneliness.

He never knew anyone else who felt this way. When people see other people, they start to act like dogs. Lin Yan raised a labrador who was always innocent and enthusiastic with his round eyes waiting for the owner to return home, more loyal than his own lover. He suddenly admired the ghost in front of him. No matter what reason he had for following him, destroying his life, or whether they really had a relationship, he had the courage to travel through hundreds of years and walk alone in this era that did not belong to him. Lin Yan wondered if he would be anxious when he walked through the tall buildings with billboards behind him. So. . . what was his motivation?

Lin Yan took out his cell phone to send a text message to Yin Zhou. Things had changed so fast. A few hours ago, he was shouting that he was going to kill the troublesome ghost, but now he was cradling him and watching the nightlife. The fluorescent light was dazzling in the dark. Just as he wrote out the fourth word, the screen was suddenly covered by someone's hand. Lin Yan pulled the hand away, but the ghost reluctantly covered the screen again, glowing light leaking through the gaps of his slender fingers. Lin Yan couldn't help but chuckle. He thought this ghost was very interesting. This child had a temper, so he locked the screen and coaxed him softly: "Stop, don't be angry." He pulled himself out of the ghost's arms and tugged on his sleeve cuff. The ghost obediently leaned over onto Lin Yan's chest, and Lin Yan slowly straightened out his hair with his fingers.

"There are still a few hours before dawn. I'll hold you until you fall asleep. Today, you were punished by the old monk." Lin Yan said. He could only breathe out a few times. Lin Yan shook his head at the misty figure in front of him, thinking about how he could pay for the sins he committed. He must find a way to break this ghost's obsession with the world and let him reincarnate in peace.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #yaoi novel

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kaediisarchive · 3 years

Text

Final thoughts on the 2021 Mortal Kombat movie.

LOTS of spoilers under the cut! Do not look at this post if you don’t want to see spoilers!

And remember, this is all just my opinion. It’s not like an actual in-depth review because I’m not a film student; this is just my perspective on what I saw as a fan of this franchise.

POSITIVE

Sub-Zero and Scorpion were great. Opening fight was great.

“Eddy Tobias” namedrop lmao

I love the snow preceding Sub-Zero’s attack. Very foreboding.

Score is AWESOME. My favorite soundtrack is probably the one that plays when Sub-Zero is attacking them in the city towards the beginning.

Sonya rigging her house with a secret bunker and trap doors is smart and fits her character.

I like that the dragon logo has an integral meaning to the story.

Loved Jax vs Sub-Zero. Not mad about the origin change of Jax’s arms. I like that he had to work through his feelings of inadequacy and failure; people don’t just immediately bounce back after something that traumatic. I also like that his arcana manifests to protect Sonya rather than in the heat of battle. It shows his emotional priorities and what separates him from people like Kano who manifest their arcana in a fit of rage.

Sonya “Throw Hands on Sight” Blade lmfao. They nailed her fighting style too and I am happy.

Kano is the best thing about this movie. No competition.

Kotal reference!

Nightwolf reference!

Shang Tsung’s soul magic being black and wispy and foreshadowing Noob Saibot.

KANO DID THE HEART RIP

CHEKOV’S GNOME I’M SCREAAAAAAMMMMIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG

I love Liu Kang in this. He is 1000000% a Wholesome Boi. I like that he’s younger and unhardened and not the fully realized champion version of his character yet. Let him grow into it so it feels earned later on. I like that he’s the underdog, and I like what they’ve set up for him in the future. Also, the casting for him was perfect and they nailed his fighting style, too.

That little “the FUCK” that the Kano actor improvised(?) in the middle of Liu Kang’s lines made me laugh more than it should have. I don’t know why that moment got to me so much but it did.

I love Kung Lao. And they nailed his fighting style, too! Great to see variation that represents the characters (though there were less shining examples, which I’ll touch on later).

LOW SWEEP! LOW SWEEP! LOW SWEEP!

Egg roll scene is best scene.

Kabal! I love his dry humor. And his voice reminds me of Duke Nukem, which I’m not mad about. It complemented his dialogue well.

Not mad about Kung Lao’s death because it was meaningful. His fatality on Nitara was sick, too.

Liu Kang taking the ribbon from Kung Lao’s hat and wearing it in his honor, giving an origin for his signature headband is FANTASTIC.

THE PIT!

FLYING BICYCLE KICKS!

LIU KANG’S DRAGON FATALITY!

SONYA’S ENERGY RINGS!

Sub-Zero was a GREAT final boss. They really built him up appropriately to make him feel like it.

Scorpion’s fatality! And his skull face!

NEUTRAL

Not sure how I feel about Sub-Zero being wholly evil and there being no involvement from Quan Chi. It’s more straight forward for sure. It makes him an interesting (and badass) character, and I’m really behind this portrayal in that he is one of the most believable characters in the movie, but I’m not sure if I like the implications for later films in how this has simplified the dynamic in the entire Shirai Ryu vs Lin Kuei plotline. Having Quan Chi be the Machiavelli was always one of my favorite MK twists. And how do we eventually end the feud now? If Bi-Han / the Lin Kuei were wholly responsible, why should Hanzo EVER make peace with Kuai Liang down the line? The complexity feels like it’s been stripped down a bit, but I do love this iteration of Sub-Zero. I truly do. That’s why this is in the neutral category and not the negative XD.

Why didn’t Jax tell Cole when he saw the mark? Why wait until his family gets attacked? Maybe he didn’t want to do it in front of his family to keep them out of it, but that ends up endangering them more. Not a gripe, just a curiosity.

Sound editing was a bit too intense at times for my taste. I have tinnitus, so...big boomy bass with very mild voices is a chore for my ears to switch between. My ears were ringing within the first twelve minutes.

Torn between “fuck you Reiko” and “Reiko deserved better”. He deserved just a little bit better, but Skarlet says “get fucked” anyway.

I don’t like the “shaky cam” used in the fight scenes. Not my cup of tea. Very hard to visually process at times.

Whatever cosmic force is picking the champions for Earthrealm is doing a shitty job at it.

Why did they change the location of the Sky Temple to a desert? Again, not a gripe, a curiosity.

“We will not see another full moon before the tournament begins” THEN WHERE IS THE TOURNAMENT BUDDY???

Not sure how I feel about the “arcana” concept. It’s an okay plot device but kinda hammy.

Kitana’s fan! But why? Why is it there? I could understand the Kotal and Nightwolf references because Sonya has been researching, but why is Kitana’s fan randomly in an Earthrealm temple? Purely cheap fanservice.

Nitara was really cool. Shame she had to die, but her death was cool and there have to be some characters that get killed off. Wish she had more screentime though; feels like another instance of fanservice just having her show up basically as a namedrop and a quick kill.

The phrase “Are you okay?” was said WAY too much in this film. So much that I actually notices how often it was said, and I usually don’t pick up on these things.

Pretty sure a camera operator fell at one point in a Sonya scene because the camera jerked around violently all of the sudden then stabilized. Whoops.

How did Sub-Zero know to take Cole’s family to the gym? WHY did he take them there?

NEGATIVE

Opening scene was awesome, but it’s emotional impact felt stunted. I feel like the order of events should have been twisted a bit. Hanzo find his wife and son should have been the big emotional climax of the scene, but it felt like a passing moment and gave him no time to mourn and no time for the impact to truly set in with me. It was an “oh no they died” moment instead of an “ OH MY GOD THEY DIED THIS IS SO FUCKED FUCK YOU SUB-ZERO” moment. I dare say that the Legacy web series did it better in spite of their lower budget and overall quality; the series of events had better pacing and gave more emotional impact because of it. I said what I fucking said don’t @ me.

Wish we got more Scorpion. I love Sanada, I love him as Scorpion, but they didn’t give us the time we needed with his character to truly get a grasp of him.

Cole Young is like white bread in a parade of decorative cakes.

Raiden, a normally passionate and protective character whose fatal flaw is that he involves himself too much in events because he cares about the people in his realm and ends up fucking things up because of it, now seems to not care in the slightest. He feels completely uninvolved save for an occasional pop in to give a nod of disapproval. I don’t like this unemotional take on one of the most emotional characters in Mortal Kombat.

Small complaint from my perspective as a martial artist but uh...”Throw your uppercut!” was a bullshit line in a bullshit scene. If you’re locked up with someone like that and the guy has his arms around your neck, you physically cannot uppercut. You cannot fit your arms between his arms because they are cinched tightly around your shoulders/neck. YOUR HEAD is between your fist + bicep and HIS HEAD. In that situation, the guy has also left his body completely unguarded, so the most logical thing to do since you CANNOT reach his head is to go for BODY BLOWS. Beat him until he lets go to protect himself, catch his floating rib with double strikes, or punch the dude in his fucking liver as hard as you can to DROP HIM. Cole is supposed to be an experienced fighter, yet he makes one of the most rookie mistakes a fighter could ever make. Normally I wouldn’t care to point out mistakes in fight choreography or whatever because it’s MK and I expect ridiculousness, but this is the WRONG kind of ridiculous. It’s just NONSENSE.

I have SO MANY issues with Mileena. I’ll make this as short as I can. I don’t like the design of her mouth. I don’t like her weird stacked voice. She shows NO personality, not in her acting or even her fighting style, just an evil minion that got angry because she almost got her ass kicked. The turned one of the principle characters of the entire franchise and a fan favorite into a GRUNT. There is NO mention of Kitana outside of literal “fan”-service. Not even a reference to one of the most important plotlines in all of Mortal Kombat. And then they KILL HER OFF!!! When they do inevitably bring in Kitana WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY GOING TO DO SINCE THEY KILLED OFF MILEENA???? I’m heated and biased and they did my girl dirty.

Speaking of doing characters dirty, poor Reptile. They turned him into an actual animal. What a waste.

Why are they so mean to Sonya if she doesn’t have a mark? She wouldn’t be as much of a “liability” if they would take the time to prepare her and teach her how to defend against fighters that have unlocked their arcana. Mind-numbingly stupid logic.

This movie relies A LOT on prerequisite knowledge to work. It’s like they want fans to fill in the blanks for them. But not everyone watching is already a fan; this isn’t an obscure release, this is a blockbuster movie released worldwide. These gaps in lore and prior knowledge don’t make sense for such a broad audience.

Cole Young literally could have just been Johnny Cage.

Where was Raiden when his temple was being assaulted?

Cole’s arcana is LITERAL PLOT ARMOR IM FUCKING DONE

No but for real that’s the most boring decision they just ripped off Jax’s MK11 heater effect and Baraka’s blades (I know they’re tonfa and they aren’t attached and I DON’T CARE). Also, now he’s suddenly good at fighting again? After being dog shit this entire movie??? And tanks Goro?????

If Raiden is an Elder God in this continuity, why is he allowed to help Earthrealm AT ALL? It seems like favoritism and bends the rules that the Elder Gods are supposedly bound by way too much. They really just shouldn’t have made him an Elder God; I honestly think they just said it to introduce the concept without a fuck given towards the actual lore of the Elder Gods.

WHY DID RAIDEN TELEPORT KANO TO SONYA’S HOUSE AFTER HE BETRAYED THEM I HAD TO REWATCH THAT SEVERAL TIMES TO MAKE SURE I JUST SAW WHAT I SAW WHAT THE ACTUAL NONSENSICAL FUCK

Cole REALLY should not have been involved in that last fight. Especially not after Scorpion shows up. It should have been Scorpion vs Sub-Zero ONLY for the final fight. Cole tag-teaming Sub-Zero with Scorpion cheapens Scorpion’s revenge.

Camera work in the final fight was not good, especially in the first portion. At one point Cole gets thrown into a fence, but it cuts to an awkward inverse angle that makes him look like he’s bouncing off of a trampoline. This continues to happen and ruins several shots for me.

Honestly Scorpion should have just possessed Cole. Permanently. No switching back and forth. No more Cole, only Scorpion.

PREDICTIONS

Lots of dead characters come back as revenants and / or with upgrades.

Kano comes back with cyber eye.

Mileena comes back with full teeth.

Liu Kang becomes MK champion, wins tournament, and kills Shang Tsung. As it should be.

Cole Young helps Liu Kang become champion somehow idk maybe he sacrifices himself or something just please don’t make Cole the champion I will start a riot.

Next movie will start IMMEDIATELY at the tournament since there was supposedly less than a month until the tournament starts in this movie.

New characters coming in will be Kitana, Shao Kahn, Jade, Quan Chi, Kuai Liang, Noob Saibot, Ermac, and Johnny Cage.

OVERALL

This movie was good, bloody fun! It’s not an A++ Oscar-winner, but if you expected that going into it, you played yourself. It was Mortal Kombat; it was stupid, it was gory, and I had a blast watching it. Kano and Liu Kang were the best parts of the movie for me, with Scorpion and Sub-Zero tied for third. Also I popped a lot for the cheap nostalgia hits. I’m overall satisfied with what we got in spite of my complaints, and I only complain so in-depth about the things I love lmao so trust me when I say I’m not actually mad, just nitpicky. I’ve watched it twice now, and I would watch it again. It’s like a 6.8/10 for me.

#mortal kombat spoilers #mk movie spoilers #spoilers tw #[ooc]

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cchellacat · 4 years

Text

I Will Be Waiting

Darcy Lewis Bingo

Y1: Soulmate AU

Bucky/Darcy

18+ for some smutterfluff

Darcy never wanted to meet her soulmate, fate has other plans.

Thank you @hawksmagnolia for all your support and help and for the absolutely beautiful cover art/mood board!

Darcy had been coming to New York since she was a kid. She loved the hustle and bustle, the people, the sounds, and the vibrance of the city. When Jane had taken up a teaching position at Columbia she’d been excited, with Jane as a guaranteed roommate she could finally afford to live in the city of her dreams.

It took her a month, applying for jobs to find one but she lucked out and got a great foot in the door at Stark Industries. It only took a year before some wise guy sent her up to act as Stark's assistant for the day; no doubt thinking she’d crash and burn or walk out as every other person had for the last ten years. Not Darcy Lewis, no siree, Darcy Lewis was not a quitter and Tony Stark was an overgrown man child, accustomed to pushing people's buttons till they cracked. Darcy didn’t crack. She pushed back. In less than a month she had Stark’s schedule running like clockwork and Pepper had given her the stamp of approval, promising that she’d be canonised as a saint when she died. Darcy had been walking on cloud nine ever since. Her job was a bit of everything, but surprisingly similar to a lot of what she'd done for Jane, everything from paperwork and coffee to experimental engineering. Her salary rivaled most department heads and she had been able to move into an apartment in the Tower. When Jane had visited Darcy she’d crossed paths with Tony and the two had hit it off. Jane’s funding went from meager to unlimited and she was offered science space at the Tower. All in all, life was good.

One of Darcy’s favourite places in New York was in Central Park. There was a small plaza, in a quiet area of the park, perfect for some sun and picnicking at lunchtime. On a plinth at the far end was a statue. The real mystery though was that no one knew where it had come from. The statue of the man was just over six feet, he appeared to be a soldier, in full uniform from around the second World War. He stood, with one arm reaching out, as though waiting for someone to take his hand. There was no record of it being commissioned, no artist had claimed it. Eventually, the city had simply installed the wide plinth with room for the invisible stranger to stand on and constructed the small plaza since it had become somewhat of a tourist attraction. Many people visited just to get a photograph with the handsome soldier.

As with any good urban legend, a fairly ridiculous story built up around the statue. The most prevalent story was that he’d been a real man, frozen in time and only his soulmate could break the curse and bring him back to life. This was completely absurd, but romance sells and so it was in every tourist book and even had its own following on social media.

Touching the soldier was seen as good luck; people said if you did you’d meet your soulmate within a year. It had such cultural belief that many people ended up saying their first words to each other in this very spot. It was rumoured that Pepper Pots had met Tony Stark here ten years ago while she was on her lunch break and the man had spoken to her for the first time when he was passing through on a date with another woman. Darcy doesn't know if that's true, but she's about ninety-nine percent convinced it’s pretty damn accurate. Her boss has a picture of himself and Pepper in front of the soldier on his desk that he often looked at smugly.

The Searching Soldier was deemed as the perfect place for romantic proposals, first dates, and even the occasional wedding. Darcy had seen her fair share of men and women getting on one knee and popping the question in the last two years since she’d made it her regular lunch spot and she couldn’t help but love this place for that alone. The Searching Soldier had become an icon and a symbol of true love and Darcy’s escape from the constant buzz of the building she worked and lived in.

She crumples up her napkin and grabs her coffee cup and ambles over, throwing the waste in the bin before coming to a stop in front of the statue. She’s been inclined more than once to just climb up the steps and touch him, but she’d never been particularly superstitious or even very desperate to meet the man who will give her his first words. In spite of that, every time she stands here, part of her is really tempted to do it anyway. She’s looked at his face every day for two years, trying to figure out the expression. It doesn’t look hopeful or happy. His eyes are slightly wide, his mouth caught mid-smile, or perhaps on the cusp of speaking a name. He looks, Darcy thinks, both resigned and startled. Some days she thinks he’s saying goodbye instead of hello. Her phone beeps, disturbing her a little from her contemplation and she realises she's going to be late back to work if she doesn't hustle. Throwing one last look at the soldier and his out-stretched hand she hurried off.

Stark’s experimental lab was a perfect example of finely organised chaos. Darcy both hated and loved it. There was certainly never a dull moment with Tony as her boss, but the number of clean up requirements every time an experiment went wrong meant overtime as well as exacting and specially vetted clean up crews to ensure no proprietary research left the building.

It’s getting late but Tony is in the final stages of construction of what he says will be a time machine. Darcy doesn’t want to think about the possible ramifications of such a breakthrough and has already discreetly informed Pepper and the Legal department.

“Hey, pass me the sonic wrench will you?”

Darcy glares at the tools in front of her. She’s half-convinced he makes this stuff up just to mess with her. She randomly grabs an oddly shaped tool and passes it over.

When it happens, Darcy is caught off guard. The machine hums to life in almost the same second that the lab doors are forced open. Tony grabs her and hauls her up onto the pad behind him, his watch enveloping his hand as the repulsor glove activates. There is shouting going on and a gun fires. She’s not afraid to admit that at the moment, panic sets in and she’s hardly coherent of anything other than the feel of Tony's hand in hers before he wrenches it free and then slides something onto her wrist. The next thing she knows, the machine whirs to life, there's a sharp noise like metal on glass and then she's falling.

Silence envelopes her as she hits the ground. The bright light of the lab was gone, replaced with almost total darkness and the scent of damp. She groans, pushing herself up and is thankful when Tony’s twin moan of pain reaches her ears through the dark.

“Tony?”

“You ok, Short Stack?”

“I’m fine, what the hell was that?”

“Time travel without a capsule. A little bumpy, but we managed.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

“No, why would I?”

“Are you insane? We can’t go experimenting on ourselves.”

“Would you rather we stayed where we were and got shot or kidnapped?”

Darcy glares as Tony’s suit deploys and an ethereal glow emanates from the nanotech.

“How are we meant to get back?”

Tony grins.

“I’m glad you asked. I put a recall device on us both before I launched us out of time.”

“The wristband?”

He nods and moves to check her over.

“You seem alright. How are you feeling? Dizzy?, headache?... how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Ugh, you are not a doctor, Tony. I’m fine. Just jittery.”

“Hmmm, shock, probably. Good, that means they work.”

“Means what works?”

“The wristband isn’t just a tracker, it’s like a bubble of real-time from our timeline, one that travels with us and keeps us from what I theorised could be temporal sickness caused by the jump.”

“So what now?”

“We lay low for a few days, in forty-eight to ninety-six hours the tracker engages and we’re pulled back to our own time. Easy.”

“Sure it is, but what are we meant to do while we wait? Do you know when we are? We don’t have any money and I refuse to stay trapped in this mouldy basement for the next two days.”

Tony looks mildly chagrined before shrugging a little and muttering about him figuring it out. Darcy sighs and follows him. She was putting in for danger pay when she got back. This was above and beyond.

They make their way up through some abandoned tunnels, the air turning colder and colder the higher they climb. When they finally make it to the top Darcy realises they are in a railway tunnel and there is a train coming straight at them. Tony manhandles her for the second time that day and pulls her out of the way. Only his suit saved them from a steep snowy drop into the ravine below.

They’re barely back on their feet when an explosion rips through the air and the side of the train car that almost hit them rips open. Even with the speed it’s going, the unmistakable form of a man falling has Darcy crying in horror. Tony doesn’t hesitate. At that moment he forgets where he is, all that matters is saving a life. He takes off, leaving Darcy safely on the embankment, and flies after the man as the train speeds out of sight.

A shaking and cursing soldier drops in front of her as Tony lands and his suit retracts back into its casing. Darcy is barely processing it all as she stares at the stranger, he looks so familiar. He’s tall, dark-haired with the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. He shouts angrily, accusations flying back and forth as Tony explains who they are. Darcy doesn’t blame him, she wouldn’t believe them either. He does tell them the date though, 1945. She has traveled back in time seventy-five years, they are apparently somewhere in Austria. When he finally gives them a name, Tony winces and Darcy’s ears perk up. She knows that name. She knows it because the man in front of her died a hero, falling to his death from a train just before the end of the war. If they weren’t already white with the cold she’s pretty sure Tony would be turning transparent. How the hell do you tell someone they’re dead and have been for seventy-five years? Yeah, it goes down about as well as you’d think. Darcy suddenly sneezes and the sound of her teeth chattering stops both of the men mid-argument. It’s the first time the guy finally looks at her, his eyes seem to widen and then he’s whipped off his coat and swept it around her.

“We can’t stay out here, we have to get off this mountain and back to base.” He addresses Tony. Darcy almost wants to punch him for the rudeness of ignoring her even as she pulls the warm coat around her tightly, savouring the comforting warmth.

“What do you not get about you’re dead? You can’t go back, you can never go back!” Tony punctuates each point with a finger jab at Sergeant Barnes, she grabs his hand to stop him. Barnes looks about one more jab away from knocking Tony out.

“Tony, we still have to get out of here and somewhere sheltered. We don’t know how long we have before we go back and we can’t just leave the Sergeant without any help either. Maybe he can’t go back, but there must be something we can do to help him, right?”

Tony looks at her grudgingly and nods.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan. We get back to the base, I go in alone and talk to Howard. We fly to New York and I’ll make sure Barnes here gets set up with a new identity and a job.”

Darcy smiles as brightly as possible at Barnes.

“See? A whole new start, it’ll be great!”

Barnes's eyes widen for a moment before he bites out the words she had been dreading to hear her whole life.

“I won’t leave Steve!”

To be fair, he looks almost apologetic the second after they came out of his mouth but Darcy closes up and Tony growls.

“What did you just say?”

Barnes raises his hands shaking his head, looking beseechingly at Darcy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“Have you got any idea the damage those words have done to her you selfish neanderthal?”

Tony had seen her words once, completely by accident. They’d had to go through decontamination after a spill in the lab, the showers hadn’t left much room for modesty. Her words crawled up the small of her back, just below the rise of her jeans. After that, the older man had been stupidly attentive and protective of her. She’d honestly never expected to encounter her soulmate like this, and especially not with Tony in tow. Tony who knew more of her secrets than anyone other than Jane.

Barnes' face at Tony’s accusation was bitterly remorseful. His eyes flashed to Darcy, boring into her own deeply, seeing the hurt and rejection she’d lived with her whole life. He stepped towards her, his lips parted, she wanted to say something, but any words she could have said were swiftly cut as Tony pushed him back and away from Darcy.

“I said I’m sorry!” his voice is harsh and Darcy thinks she can almost see the threads as he unravels. “But I can’t leave Steve, he needs my help, he’ll get himself killed if I’m not there-”

Tony gabs Barnes and shakes him.

“Rogers lives. You died and Captain America carried on, did just fine without you. You going back, being alive? That could change all of history and just might get your friend killed. Do you want to do that? Risk the future just to butt in where you’re no longer needed?”

Tony’s words were scathing and sharp but no less true for the content.

“Tony! That’s enough….” she turns to Barnes. “Look, I’m sorry this happened, but you were meant to die, it must feel like your life has been turned upside down, I know. But it’s better than actually being dead, right?”

His eyes settle on her and he shakes his head, she suddenly wants to be anywhere but here. He looks lost and afraid and she can’t help but feel this is her fault.

“Better than being dead? I can’t see my best friend ever again and my soul mate is going back to the future. I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, I’m over the fuckin moon.”

She recoils like a blow has been struck. He’s angry, of course, he is. She is too. This should never have happened. It’s not fair, but if there is one thing she’d learned in life it’s that it is never fair. She’s toe to toe with him, shaking from anger or cold, she’s not sure which.

“How do you think I feel? I’ve been shot at, fell through time, nearly got hit by a train and now my soulmate wants nothing to do with me and even if he did I’m never going to see him again! You’re not the only one with a sucky life Barnes but I’m not having a tantrum over it. Suck it up soldier and deal with it. This is life.”

Twin blue eyes blaze at each other before Tony comes between them again and then she ignores Barnes, letting Tony guide her as they get off the mountainside.

It takes six hours to get back to the base. Tony somehow manages to carry them both, flying low and slow until the dark green tents and the wooden barracks appear. They drop down a few miles out, Tony leaving them both sneak in and find Howard. He doesn’t think it will take much to convince his dad of who he is and tells them to stay safe until he gets back.

Barnes stalkes about the clearing they’re in like an angry bear while Darcy does her best to push away the strange grief she feels welling up in her heart. It doesn’t make much sense, really, it’s not like she knows him or is going to get the chance. The wristbands are their only way home, not equipped to carry an extra passenger. Tony had already put the full stop in her unspoken question about her staying. It was a huge no-no, she didn’t belong in this time, he was almost certain the time-stream would rearrange itself around her if she stayed but that it would most likely try to erase her the longer she stayed. He’d made too good an argument for the universe trying to Final Destination her ass to be comfortable with taking the risk.

“I don't even know your name” She jerks a little at the abrupt statement, suddenly aware of how close he'd come to her.

Bucky feels like his world just ended and nothing is ever going to feel right again. When he’d fallen from the train he was certain he was going to die. It was a long way down and in those few moments where he fell he’d almost made peace with his end. The words inked on his arm the only regret he had. He’d wondered his whole life about the girl that would one day try to reasure him.

See? A whole new start, it’ll be great!

Wondered what he’d say to her, how he’d greet her. Instead of one of the many things he’d hoped he might say he’d pretty much rejected her for someone else. He cringes at the thought that she had spent her life wondering who Steve was to him that he’d refuse her. Now here he was, with the one girl he was made for, who was made for him and he was furious at himself for the cock-up he’d made of it. He runs a shaking hand through his hair, feeling the small ice crystals melt when they come in contact with his hand. It’s freezing out here but he hardly feels the cold. It’s been that way for a while now, not just the immunity to the cold, but the strength and the speed and his senses all sharper and better than they’d ever been. He can see her shivering, even with the long blue coat of his wrapped around her tiny frame.

God, they haven’t even been introduced properly. He feels like a fool.

“I don’t even know your name.”

She looks up at him, seeming surprised at his closeness.

“Darcy Lewis.” she doesn’t give him more than that, a brief snippet of knowledge.

“James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.” she raises a brow, “I’m sorry for how I reacted back there, for what I said. You didn’t deserve those words. I was just worried about my friend. You gotta understand, I’ve known him since we were kids, he’s like family to me.”

Darcy sighs. “I get it, I do. Consider it forgiven.” she shivers again and hugs herself tighter.

Bucky feels a twinge of guilt.

“Don’t know how long your friend’s going to be, we could..” he trails off, his hand, held towards her hesitantly, gesturing for something.

Darcy looks at the outstretched hand, it's like a bell in the back of her mind, like deja vu.

“Look, you’re obviously freezing, come here and we can huddle, share warmth. I know it's a little unconventional, but I promise I’m not trying to make a move.”

Darcy snorted.

“Like I couldn’t take you if I needed to.”

The way she side-eyes him and the little twist of her lips as she delivers the words induce a sudden chuckle. It’s been a while since a dame smacked him down so dismissively. Part of him admires her moxie while a deeper part finds a bittersweet understanding of why the universe paired them. He could see it. How they could be. If life had given them a different path.

Darcy throws a half-hearted glare his way.

“What, you don’t think I could?”

“Oh, I’m certain you would if I got fresh, Doll. Come here, you’re freezing, no use refusing just to make a point.”

“And if I said no?”

“You could, '' he nods his head. “ But you won’t, you’re too practical and smart to be the kinda girl that’d cut her own nose off just to spite her face.”

“James Barnes, is that a compliment for little old me?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course, she would be full of sass to match his.

“Tellin’ you you’re beautiful would be a compliment. I’m just calling a spade a spade.”

Darcy presses her lips together, refusing to smile and lets him take her hand, he pulls her in close and wraps his arms around her as she tucks her head into his chest. When she realises he really is like her own personal space heater she unashamedly clings to him like a limpet.

“Getting comfortable, Doll?”

“Digging in, like the spade I am.”

She replies dryly then lets out a tiny giggle and feels an answering rumble of amusement from his chest. His arms tighten around her a little and she sighs, some of the tension bleeding from her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she tells him quietly.

“Least I could do.” He responds equally quiet. A silence lapses between them but it lacks the jagged edges that it had held before. Darcy breathes him in. It would be so easy, she thinks a little sadly, to get used to this.

It’s dawn when Tony gets back to them, Howard in tow. In less time than she’d expected they were in the air and flying over the Atlantic. Tony and Howard are upfront, conspiring away while she’s stuck in the cabin with Bucky. It’s strange watching the man, her soulmate, the little voice in her head whispers, as he sleeps.

Out there in the snow and ice, he’d been all hard edges and furrowed lines. In sleep the angles of his face softened, he looked younger. She’s not blind, the man has the sort of face you’d expect to see in some lookbook for a model agency. Maybe if he’d been born in her time he’d have found himself doing exactly that or perhaps acting on some cable tv show. He was almost pretty but with just enough dangerous charm to describe him as strikingly handsome. More man than boy, despite the big blue eyes and soft lips. If she had to admit to a type, he was exactly hers. Not surprising considering the words curling up her spine. It doesn’t seem to be something she can entirely dismiss, even when she knows there's no future here for them. Her heart sees him and she feels like the breath is knocked out of her. But even the knowledge that he hadn’t been rejecting her is now more of a burden than a relief. A burden because she can’t help but wonder what could have been. It’s like being given water in a desert and then having someone take it away to pour into the sand. In his sleep, he curls an arm around her and pulls her in close. Darcy lets him, selfishly allowing herself to pretend that this isn’t just a temporary stop along the road. She closes her eyes and rests her head against his chest and cuddles in. Deep inside she thinks they really could have been something.

The change in air pressure, subtle though it is, is what wakes him. He finds Darcy wedged into his side, fast asleep. He can feel the plane descending. She’s a soft warm, sweet-smelling refuge of hope amidst the raging storm of his emotions. He’s torn. He thinks he should be pushing her away, this is just prolonging and making matters worse. He doesn’t want to get attached. She's going to leave and he’s never going to see her again. His heart, soul? Whatever they want to call it, this connection the universe gave them is pushing him to keep her close and never let her go. It seems the longer they spend in close proximity the stronger the pull is between them. He has no idea where he’s going to go from here. What sort of future he’s going to have, but the unsettling feeling that there isn’t one without her leaves him numb.

“Hey…”

His eyes flick down to meet hers, gazing up at him, sleep heavy and soft. This is what he was meant to wake up to every morning, he thinks, somewhat bitterly before a fond smile, curls around his lips at the cute scrunch of her nose.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Darcy huffs and reluctantly pushes away from him.

“Please don’t…” she trails off. The way he was looking at her made her heart swell, she could feel herself softening to him with every second. “This wasn’t what I expected…” she pauses and shakes her head. God that was a stupid thing to say, neither of them could have predicted anything like this.

Bucky purses his lips but keeps quiet. He can see her struggle to put her thoughts in order and his Ma raised him to be polite. He let her gather them, seeing the little wheels turning behind her eyes.

“When I was a kid I used to pretend I didn’t have words. I figured it was easier to say I was blank than admit my soulmate didn’t want me… wouldn’t want me. I told it to myself so much it felt true.” It had felt like that. She had cut herself off from any sort of longing to protect herself from the pain of being rejected. It wasn’t something that happened very often, but it did happen. People refused their soulmate, denied the bond and it would fade into nothing, Meeting your soulmate wasn’t a guarantee of happiness, it was just a chance, an opportunity to find the person best suited to you, but it didn’t guarantee love. “I thought if we ever crossed paths we’d both walk away content with the decision. Me happy to let you have what you wanted, you happy not to have some overly emotional drama queen stalking you.”

He could feel her sadness, her eyes were wet and her voice wavered. He gently cupped her face and caught the tear as it trailed over her pale skin.

“But now…. Now it feels like, -”

“Like we’ve been cheated. Like you were given a chance but the choice has been taken away. It was your choice before, to walk away from me when you thought I wouldn't want you.”

“But I didn’t have all the facts. If we’d met in my time… God, everything would be different, we’d still have a choice, an opportunity to ... I can feel it, you know? You feel it too right?”

His thumb stroked over her lip.

“Yeah, I feel it too, s’like magnets pulling together. Never wanted to know someone the way I want to know you.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord deep in her soul. She felt the same echo in her own.

“But we can’t. And this… the way you’re looking at me and touching me… I want it so badly but it’s just going to hurt so much more when I leave... if we keep doing this. I can’t afford to get this comfortable with you, I don’t want to... I’ve been hurting my whole life but now it's real and in front of me and I…” Darcy crumples. Maybe she’d convinced herself she’d never have a great love, but it didn't mean she’d ever really stopped wanting it. She feels like every moment in her life leads here, an inexorable inevitable point, fixed and immovable and she doesn’t want it to end.

He gathers her close, feels her tears soaking into his shirt as she cries. She’s breaking his heart. Every bit of him wants to protect her, comfort her; seeing her like this and knowing there is nothing he can do makes him furious at the world, at whatever god consigned them to this tragedy.

“It’s not fair...it’s not.”

“I know it’s not, princess. But we’re going to hurt either way. Why not make a few memories to hold onto?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, his mind changed. Maybe this wasn't going to be a forever, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least hold onto whatever he could get.

Darcy breathes and considers his idea. Maybe he’s right, isn’t this going to hurt no matter what?

“We might only get hours, a few days at most.” she’s not sure if she's trying to discourage him or begging him to tell her it doesn’t matter, that he’ll take whatever he can get. He doesn’t disappoint her.

“Then we make them count. Enough for the life-time, we could have had.”

Bucky places two fingers under her chin, bringing her gaze to his. Darcy blinks then lets it all go, lets her guard down, and sinks into his eyes. She thinks for a moment she forgets to breathe. His eyes are soft, a warmth in the deep blue. He smiles gently, encouraging an answering smile from her lips.

“Okay.” She finally lets go of the fear, embraces the chance to snatch a few small moments of beauty amid the chaos of their inevitable defeat. How, after all, could you win against time?

“Okay?”

Her smile grows wider at the happiness in his eyes and he hums a little tune. It’s a small thing but it brings a tiny snort of laughter from her, an old song so ironically apt.

“They can’t take that away from me.”

“What?” Her brows rise, was he serenading her?

“The way your smile just beams.” He sang softly, grinning down at her. She giggles.

“The way I sing off-key?” She answers back in kind.

“The way you’ll haunt my dreams… no no they can’t take that away from me.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Seventy-five years and people still know that song?”

“I like the Fred and Ginger movies, that one was a favourite.”

“I’d have liked that, taking you to a movie, on a date. Take you dancing somewhere so I could hold you close.”

“You don’t have to dance with me to do that” Darcy wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and Bucky thinks he’s never felt so charmed in his life.

When they finally get off the plane Darcy pulls Tony off to one side.

“I need time,” she tells him.

“Lewis, I swear if I could fix this…” He looks pained, but Darcy just shakes her head.

“No, that's not what I meant. I need time on my own with him, it’s the only chance we’ll ever have and I want to make the most of it, you understand, right?”

Tony sighs. She’s stubborn and fierce and he’s done his best to ignore the way the two had gravitated towards each other once their words were spoken. He knew from his own match that trying to keep them apart would have been pointless so he hadn’t tried, maybe even encouraged it by staying with Howard and letting the man talk his ear off. He gets it, he really does and just once, he can give her this.

“Think you can keep out of trouble till we get pulled back?” at her nod he continues. “Fine. When the recall alert goes off make your way to Central Park. We’ll meet at the little plaza, it should be deserted enough and open enough for our return back. You’ll have about half an hour to get there so don’t stray too far.”

She surprises him with a quick hug and a whispered thanks in his ear and then he watches as she drags Barnes off by the hand.

Forty-three hours later her wrist device beeps. Darcy looks at it mournfully and cuddles into Bucky’s arms. He’s spooning her, her body snugly tucked against his. It all feels so monumentally right, the feel of his skin against her, the rhythm of his heartbeat in time with hers, the way each breath between them works in harmony. His arms are wrapped tightly around, holding her fast, she wishes she could stay here forever, in this one perfect moment, suspended like a dragonfly in amber.

“Bucky, baby, we’ve got to go.” His body tenses and he mutters into her shoulder.

“It’s not fair Darcy… it’s not right.”

“I know. But we’ve had this.”

“S’not enough, doll. It could never be enough.”

He growled, tugging her under him as he rolled on top of her. His mouth met hers swiftly, kissing her till she was breathless and clutching him to her as her body sang for his.

It’s quick and desperate. Two bodies trying to merge deeper than imaginable, both of them attempting to leave their mark on the other. When they peak she cries, even as her body shudders in pleasure. It’s the sweetest torture. To have this and know it will soon be over. She feels his tears on her skin, falling to mingle with her own against her cheeks as he kisses her deeply. She never thought a kiss could feel like this, like hello and goodbye and forever.

They make their way to the park with a few minutes to spare.

When she enters the clearing where the little plaza is usually found, all that's there is a wide grassy space with a few benches and a path. It’s a little jarring to see it like this, without the presence of the Searching Soldier the place felt empty, haunted. Before she can think about it anymore there’s the sound of shouting and the retort of a gun. It’s like the lab all over again, only this time it’s Bucky that grabs her and forces her behind him.

“Put the fucking gun away Howard, it’s not going to help!” That's Tony's voice carrying through the trees.

Tony and Howard burst into the clearing, running, and made a beeline for Darcy and Bucky.

“Three minutes till we get delorean’d back to the future, Lewis and we’ve got a sorcerer on our ass.”

“What? Like Strange?” A blast of golden light cuts through the trees and they’re thrown off their feet.

“More Voldemort than Dumbledore, but sure.”

“What the hell do they want?” Bucky hisses at Tony.

Tony shoots him his patented “Am I the only smart person in the room” expression and Darcy elbows him in the ribs.

“What do you think? They want to know the future!”

“You’re telling me you managed to get Nazi wizards on our asses in less than two days?”

“Like it’s my fault!”

Darcy glares like she could set him on fire.

“Fine, it’s about 12% my fault, the rest is his,” he tells her, nodding at his shamefaced father.

“Oh god, there’s two of you. Now I can tell Pepper where you get it from!”

Tony scowls as they dodge another blast, running and throwing themselves behind a low wall beside the path.

“What are we meant to do?”

“We just need to stay in one piece till we get yanked back.”

“What about Bucky, and Howard?”

A sudden flash of light behind them as a portal opens sends them scrambling, but instead of danger, the serene face of a woman looks down on them as she emerges from the rip in reality. Her head is bald, her porcelain skin seems to shimmer, and about her neck is the faint green glow of the eye. Darcy recognises it as the Time Stone.

“Dr. Stark.” she nods.

“Ancient One.”

Darcy is taken aback at the seriousness of his tone and the respect he gives the woman without question. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.

Four sorcerers follow behind her and scatter quickly, facing off against the enemy as spellfire bathes the clearing in an eerie light.

The Ancient One moves her hands in a complicated pattern, a golden dome engulfs them in a protective bubble.

“You are safe now and there is not much time.” She regards Bucky with a sharp eye and traces some unseen line back to Darcy. Her gaze softens as he takes Darcy’s hand in his, moving protectively in front of her.

“You have nothing to fear for your soulmate, Sergeant Barnes, I mean neither her nor yourself any harm.”

“All due respect Ma'am, but I don’t know you and I don’t trust you.”

She nods to him and returns her gaze to Darcy.

“The timeline of this universe has been irreparably altered. I can see why now and perhaps this way is better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your Sergeant had another path he should have followed, one that still would have ensured you crossed paths here in your future. That way is now lost, since it cannot be recovered, perhaps there is a way to resolve your current predicament.”

“Can you send Bucky back to the future with us?” she asks her hopefully.

The Ancient One smiles mysteriously.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But I am afraid your soulmate will have to take the slow path.”

Darcy’s face fell. She had hoped… The watch beeped again, Tony gave her an apologetic look as he held his hand out to her.

“It’s time, Short Stack.”

She doesn’t let Bucky's hand go even as she is reluctantly pulled away by Tony. Bucky seems about to speak, the smallest regretful smile turning his lips and then the Ancient one taps his shoulder just as Darcy's hand leaves his. Bucky freezes, caught in a moment, utterly still as his whole body seemingly turns to stone. Darcy tries to lunge back, a cry of horror ringing out.

“He will be here, waiting, Miss Lewis. And like any good fairy tale, true love's kiss will break the spell.” The Ancient One imparts softly.

Darcy doesn’t have time to react to the words before she feels caught up in a whirlwind of motion and the world jerks sharply to the left.

They come awake together in the lab they left from. Tony tripping over himself to check the machine. The place looks fine, nothing seems out of the ordinary. It’s like the firefight in here never happened.

“Tony?”

He sweeps his desk for his phone and checks the date.

“Just as I thought. The same day we left from, it’s lunchtime. We’ve come back before we left. Come on, we better get out of here before we run into ourselves.”

They take the secret elevator out and Darcy follows Tony without question, still half in shock and trying to wrap her mind around the events she’d just experienced.

Before she knows it, they’re back at Central Park. Tony shepherding her along in a daze.

“It all makes sense now, this is crazy. I mean, you’ve spent every lunchtime here for the last two years... Darcy..., Double D! Snap out of it.”

“He’s been there, all that time?” she finally says, shock and disbelief colouring her tone.

“From the moment we left. He’s been there. Waiting for you.” Tony puts his hands on her shoulders and she doesn’t know whether to sob or laugh.

“I didn’t lose him?”

“Look, “ he tells her, nodding over her shoulder. She turns her head, as though seeing the statue for the first time. It’s him, it’s really, him.

She looks back at Tony, shaking her head.

“What do I do? What if it doesn’t work… what if-”

“Lewis! Breathe.”

Darcy curls her hands into fists and sucks in a deep lungful of New York air. She is a well of mixed emotion, confused and hopeful and terrified. It’s almost too painful to believe this is real. That he’s been here, all this time, trapped in a single moment, waiting for her to free him.

“This is unbelievable.”

“I know.” he agrees soothingly.

“He’s the Searching Soldier”

“Patron Saint of true love and all-around good luck charm. New York may never recover the loss. Pretty sure, lover boy over there accounts for about a quarter of tourist revenue.”

Darcy snorts, a hysterical giggle forcing its way out. Tony only manages to keep a straight face for about a half-second longer than her before they're both howling with laughter. Passers-by stare at them as they walk past. Eventually, breathless and shaking but far calmer, Darcy stops.

An exasperated cough to their right has both turning sharply.

Stephen Strange is dressed casually, a grey jacket with a matching scarf wrapped around his neck, hands stuffed in the pockets.

“I don’t have all day you know.”

“Strange.” Tony gives the wizard a distrustful frown. He dislikes Strange on principle. The man tacks an inordinate amount of pleasure in needling him.

“Stark, Miss Lewis.”

“What are you doing here?”

Strange rolls his eyes, a look eerily similar to Tony’s own” How do I deal with these idiots” sneer crossing his face before he dispels it at the look Darcy throws at him. She is so clearly done with all the shit today.

“Well, we can’t just let the rest of New York know that a man has been trapped in stone for seventy-five years, can we? Besides, the sudden disappearance of a national treasure would be impossible to hide and the economic impact… what, what? Stop laughing, honestly, Stark, can’t you take this seriously for five minutes?”

“So, you’re here to cover it up.”

“Indeed. Miss Lewis will break the spell, I’ll cast an illusion and Wong will bring the duplicate statue through from the Sanctum.”

“How…”

“Did I know? Well, the Ancient One left a reminder on Wong’s phone. Got the alert this morning and crafted a replacement...”

Darcy shakes her head, tuning Strange out, and faces the statue. She’s put it off long enough. She takes off, leaving Strange and Tony bickering behind her, and crosses the plaza. She only pauses for a moment at the bottom of the plinth before determinedly taking the steps and standing beside him.

She knows the answer to the question now. The expression on his face had been both I love you and goodbye. She takes his hand in hers and steps closer before pressing her lips to cold stone. For the tiniest instant, she thinks it didn’t work, but then it’s like the world suddenly found its breath and cold marble becomes warm flesh, unyielding stone transmutes to living motion and she faintly hears a gasp before strong arms crush her close. Bucky’s voice, whispering her name, fills her ears and then he’s kissing her as if he’ll never stop and she revels in every second of it. A Million possibilities open before them. Infinity beckons.

#wintershock #darcy/bucky #dlbingo2020 #dlbingo #my writing

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

One chapter left folks! Thanks for sticking around and reading!

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Chapter Seventeen - The Winner Takes It All

Ten days remained until it was time for the Tony Awards. I knew Jamie was starting to get nervous, no matter how many times he insisted it didn’t matter. Honestly, I was nervous myself and I’d been plenty of times. Just like with every other part of the show, it was different this time because of Jamie. I was still more focused on his potential win than the fact that I might win. The only real reason I wanted to win was to stick it to Frank. He’d been most unhappy after I stood him up for dinner, but I’d dealt with it. After he’d (most likely) deprived me of a nomination for years, I wanted to win out of spite, more than anything else. Perhaps that was immature, but I didn’t really care.

I walked into the kitchen and found Jamie looking deep in thought. Leaning over his shoulder, I placed a kiss on his cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

He watched me as I moved about the kitchen. “My parents informed me that they’re flying in for the Tony Awards. And since I canna go wi’ ye, I did think I’d take one of them. But I canna make up my mind on which one to take. Either way, I feel like I’m betraying the other.”

I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I can understand that. I took Lamb to my first Tony Awards.” He smiled at me before shaking his head with a sigh. I leaned against the island as a thought came to me. “How about this?” Jamie glanced up at me, ready to hear my idea. “Why don’t you take your mother and I can take your father?”

“What?”

“Well everyone’s allowed a date. Not everyone takes one. Like you said, ideally, I’d go with you. Going with your dad would be the closest I can get,” I said with a laugh.

Jamie chuckled, but looked unsure. “Are ye sure? Would ye no’ rather take Lamb?”

I shook my head, taking another sip of coffee. “Nope. He’s been to the Tony Awards plenty of times. Then you don’t have to feel guilty about leaving one of your parents out. You take your mom. I’ll take your dad. Then, they can both be there for you on your big night. We all sit near each other, so it’ll work out.”

He stood up and wound around the island, moving closer toward me. “You’d really do that for me?”

I wrapped one arm around his waist. “Of course I would. Besides, your dad is a fun guy. I’m sure I’ll have a good time with my date.”

Laughing and shaking his head at me, Jamie bent down to kiss my forehead. “You are too good to me, ye ken that?”

I shot him a doubting look. “I’m just as good to you as you are to me,” I assured him.

“What if someone asks why ye brought my dad to the show wi’ ye?”

I leaned my head against his chest as I thought about it. “I guess I’ll tell them that my formerly no-name, first time on Broadway and first time nominee told me he couldn’t decide which of his parents to bring to the show, and me, being a kind director who got along well with my star, volunteered to bring his dad so he didn’t have to choose.” I shrugged. “Just take out the part where you told me in our kitchen and how I’d met your parents because we spent Christmas together since we’re dating, and it all works very easily.”

Jamie laughed and tucked me in closer. “If you’re sure. I’ll let them know what the plan is. I’m sure they’ll be verra touched.”

“I hope so. I’m glad to get to see them again. I wish Jenny and Ian could make it.”

“I thought about asking Ian and no’ having to choose between my parents but wi’ Jenny pregnant, I figured she’d murder me if I took her husband from her when she can’t fly that far,” Jamie told me.

“I wouldn’t blame her, honestly.”

The morning of the Tony Awards was stressful, to be sure. I was bustling around, trying to get everything taken care of before the people I’d hired to do my hair and make up arrived. Jamie was running around trying to get everything he needed gathered before he had to leave for the theater. They still had the matinee before the awards show. His parents were staying at a hotel, thankfully, and hadn’t gotten swept up in the craziness of the morning.

“Okay, so you’re heading straight from the theater?” I called to him, cleaning up the kitchen.

“Aye. Picking up Mam at the hotel on the way, I believe.” He zipped up his garment bag and walked out to me. Curling an arm around my waist, he bent down to kiss me. “And then I’ll see ye at the awards.”

I sighed, leaning my head against his chest. “It’ll be hard again,” I reminded him.

His other arm came around me, holding me close. I matched his position and wrapped my arms around him. “I ken it will be. But after this, we’re free, aye? That was what we agreed upon?”

Glancing up at him, I nodded. He leaned down to kiss me and I met him in the middle. We stood there for a moment, locked in a slow, deep kiss. Breaking apart, I rested my head against his forehead. “One more day.”

With a grin on his face, Jamie broke out singing “One Day More” from Les Miserables. I put my hand over his mouth, shaking my head at him, trying so hard not to laugh. “Please, no.”

He laughed too, leaning his head back against mine. I felt him squeeze his hands at my waist. “Alright. But only because I need to be going.” Giving me one last kiss, he whispered to me, “We can do it.”

I hugged him tightly. “I know.” Pulling back, I cupped his face in my hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I took a deep breath, raising my eyebrows. “Big day.”

Jamie nodded, agreeing with me. “Big day.” He kissed my forehead and stepped back from me. “I’ll see ye there, Sassenach.”

“Break a leg!” I said as he gathered up his things.

A half hour after he left, my prep team showed up, ready to make me look more glamorous than I ever allowed myself to look on a daily basis. I chatted with them as my hair was curled and pinned into a lovely updo. I pointedly didn’t talk much as they applied my makeup. At some point while my makeup was being done, Mr. Fraser showed up. He sat on the couch while they completed my look in the kitchen. Once they were gone, all that was left was putting on my dress.

I’d chosen a dress that really stood out to me. It wasn’t the biggest or fanciest dress, but it fit what I was looking for. It was a long, bright red dress covered in intricate beading. The straps looped behind my neck as the neckline dipped slightly. Putting it on, I studied myself in the mirror. With my hair and makeup professionally done and then with the dress on, I didn’t think I looked much like myself. I wondered if my actors thought this everyday before they went on stage.

Shrugging to myself, I decided I would do. I grabbed my clutch off the bed and walked out into the living room where Brian was waiting for me. A look of awe covered his face as he took me in. “Oh, Claire, ye look just gorgeous.”

I blushed, looking down at my feet. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Jamie’s going to have to be using all his best acting skills to pretend he’s unaffected by how beautiful ye look,” he added.

Laughing, I walked toward the door. “Well, I guess we’ll see if he deserves that Tony after all.”

The red carpet was already fairly packed when our car pulled up. My door was opened for me and Brian ran around, sticking his arm out for me. “Ready?” he asked. I grinned and looped my arm through his. I’d been texting Jamie on the way to see if he had beaten us there. Apparently Ellen had taken a long time to get ready and they were running a bit behind. He’d still make the red carpet though. I told him he had to.

I walked along — Brian right behind me — and stopped for pictures when asked. I was pulled aside for interviews and comments when people recognized who I was. The directors weren’t usually the ones that people clamored for interviews with, but there were at least a few that stopped me. I didn’t want to go inside without Jamie so I stalled as I made my way down the carpet.

Thankfully, I ran into plenty of people I knew. That was how it was at award shows. I’d managed to see all of my fellow directorial nominees. John flagged me down at a certain point and we took some time to complement each other’s appearances. We looked far nicer than we did when we were deep into scripts at the office.

“John, this is Jamie’s dad, Brian,” I introduced. “Brian, this is one of our producers, John.”

The two men shook hands with a shared smile. “Pleasure to meet ye,” Brian said.

“And you.” John then turned to me. “Your date is Jamie’s dad?”

I shrugged. “It’s not like I could bring his son as my date,” I commented. Brian shot me a concerned look. “John knows the truth. He’s about the only one.” I felt my clutch vibrate in my hand. Ripping it open, I grabbed my phone and was relieved to see a text from Jamie. “He just pulled up. He’ll be walking the red carpet now,” I told Brian. He nodded in reply.

We stayed mostly where we were, waiting for Jamie to get to us. I should have known it would take him far longer to get to us than it took for us to get down the carpet. He was the new name, the first time nominee for his first show. Every journalist covering the Tony Awards was going to want to talk to him. As we waited, I talked with a few more friends. Louise went by and we admired each other’s dresses, confided in which alcohol was currently getting us through the gauntlet that was the red carpet. Eventually, she also wandered on and, finally, I saw Jamie’s red hair before I saw the rest of him.

I let Brian flag them down and Jamie grinned brightly at the sight of us. He grabbed his mother’s hand and made a beeline to where we were standing. It was then that I realized that Jamie had seen my dress, but I hadn’t had a clue what Jamie was wearing. I took in the crisp, white shirt with the black bowtie, the black tux jacket, and his green plaid kilt. I stared at him, a bit in awe. I’d never seen him in a kilt before. It was quite the sight. He grinned as he walked over to me and his father. I felt myself blush a little, even after all these months, as his eyes roved over me.

He stepped right up to me, wrapping me in a seemingly platonic hug. “This was a stupid idea,” he whispered in my ear.

My brow furrowed as I looked at him when we pulled back. “Why?”

“It was a stupid idea to get ready separately. I feel I canna stop staring at ye. Looking at how beautiful ye are.”

I glanced down, trying to hide my smile. Not from him, but from other prying eyes. “You might be right. I haven’t ever seen you in a kilt before. You didn’t mention you’d be wearing that.”

Jamie shrugged, looking around at all the photographers. We were keeping a careful distance from each other. “Well, I figured Peter and I are both Scottish. Might as well lean into it.”

“It was a good idea,” I offered. “You look very dashing.”

It was Jamie’s turn to blush a bit. He smiled at me, clearly wanting to wrap an arm around me. I felt the same way. “Well, thank ye, Miss Beauchamp,” he said pointedly.

I cleared my throat, turning to Ellen. “You look so wonderful,” I told her.

“Not nearly as wonderful as ye look,” she replied. We were all showering each other in compliments.

After standing there for long enough, we slowly made our way inside. I was glad that since I brought Jamie’s dad, I had a reason to stay close to Jamie. He spoke lowly from just behind me. “No’ being able to be myself around ye is a great distraction, ye ken?”

I laughed softly, looking over my shoulder at him. “Oh?”

“I havena thought about the awards once, just that I want to be able to even just touch ye,” he whispered.

“I know how you feel,” I confessed.

As we got close to the door, Brian stuck out his arm for me to take. I grinned at him and looped my arm through his. We walked inside the theater and eventually toward our seats. They grouped us all close together, but the nominees were always on the ends. Jamie was on the end seat just behind me. He leaned forward as I settled myself in my seat.

I felt his breath on my ear before he spoke. “I’ve never felt jealous of my father before,” he said, laughing slightly. “This is a verra odd night.”

Turning around, I shot him a look. “Don’t worry, the show will start and it’ll all leave your mind,” I promised him. He gave me an unsure look, but sat back in his seat.

Sure enough, the show started and it did prove a good distraction. During commercials, we chatted with Jamie’s castmates and it seemed easier. Musical numbers being performed up on stage were entertaining. When the awards started getting handed out, it turned our attention back to our nerves. And oddly enough, I was thankful for that.

I saw presenters walk out, knowing the category that was coming next. Jamie leaned forward needlessly. “It’s yer category,” he reminded me. I only nodded in reply. Joe and Louise had both won. We’d picked up the Tony for Costume Design and Light Design as well. So far, we were doing pretty well. I’d noticed enough in my time watching the Tony Awards that usually, awards were given to mostly one show. But I didn’t want to count on it. Just like with nominations, I had been more focused on Jamie’s award than mine. After seeing Frank, I really wanted to win again. Two voices were at war in my head: the one saying it was an honor just to be nominated and the one saying I deserved this. A strong knot was forming in my stomach as they started reading out the name of the nominees.

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care echoed through my head on command as they (slowly) opened the envelope.

“And the Tony goes to…”

Brian reached over and grabbed my hand in anticipation. Did all their pauses seem this long? I was losing the concept of time. The silence stretched on for eternity.

“Claire Beauchamp!”

I audibly gasped, sitting there for a moment, completely stunned. Brian’s hand was squeezing mine tightly. I felt hands grabbing my shoulders and realized they must be Jamie’s. I glanced back at him in shock and he looked elated. Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear, though I could barely hear him. “Ye did it, mo nighean donn.” I nodded slightly, still processing what he said.

Standing up, I felt a bit shaky as I walked down the aisle and up on the stage. The whole time, I tried to remind myself that I’d done this all before. But somehow, this seemed more unreal. I’d been so focused on Jamie getting nominated and then winning, I’d barely thought about myself.

It was all a blur. I walked up the stairs and onto the stage, I was handed an award, and I stood in front of the mic. Looking out into the audience, I saw a sea of my community, some I loved and some I respected, and also some I loathed. And yet, I was standing before them, expected to make a speech. I wasn’t quite sure what I was saying. I know I made sure to thank John. I thanked the cast. I mentioned the crew as well. I hoped I hit all the right notes because I was so shocked, I wasn’t processing much.

As I walked off the stage with a final wave to the crowd, I saw Jamie stand up, clapping for me. I smiled to him, unsure if he could see it. The gauntlet of interviewers and other people I had to talk to before I could get back to my seat was ridiculous. All I wanted to do was go back to my people and share a small moment.

By the time I returned to my seat, Tony Award in hand, it was almost Jamie’s category. I squeezed his shoulder as I walked back, giving him a small wink. He still looked so happy for me. His parents fawned over me some — as much as parents of one of my cast members really could. Our little group was celebrating another win for the show when it came back from commercial and it was up to Best Actor in a Play.

I glanced back at Jamie but he shook his head. Despite everything, he was still so sure he wouldn’t win. Even when I’d been unsure about my own win, I knew he would. The presenters walked to the microphone and began to read the names of the nominees. I could hear Ellen whispering to Jamie, but I couldn’t tell what she said. Brian turned around in his seat and reached his hand for Jamie. It took everything in me not to do the same thing.

Yet another eternity filled silence followed before they finally called out the winner.

“Jamie Fraser!”

Everyone from our show turned to Jamie, all of us over the moon for his win for his first show. He looked completely stunned. It apparently didn’t matter how many of us assured him he’d win, he really hadn’t believed us. I was clapping so hard for him, urging him to stand up and go get his award. Joe clapped him on the back as he finally stood.

I stood as he walked out of his row. Without even thinking, I grabbed him and kissed him quickly. It took both of us a moment to realize what I’d done. Both our eyes went a bit wide. I shrugged and sent him off to the stage. He looked like he was in as much of a daze as I’d been just a while ago.

Jamie stood up on the stage in front of the mic, holding the Tony Award in his hand, and tears started falling from my eyes. I couldn’t contain my pride.

He shook his head as he started to talk. “Wow, I truly canna believe this.” His hand dug into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I didna think this would happen. My girlfriend insisted that I write a speech so I wouldna look like a fool if I did end up here.” His scottish accent was coming out so strongly as he was nervous. Brian looked over at Jamie’s mention of me. I flashed him a grin.

“This is the highest honor,” he started reading from the speech he’d thrown together at my insistence. “I scraped and fought to get even just an audition for this show, to be in the same room as people I’d admired for a long time. And somehow, I was able to not only get the audition, but the part. All of production, I was so sure I’d be recast. So to be standing here, it truly boggles the mind.”

I could hear Ellen sniffle. Rifling through my clutch, I found a spare tissue and handed it back to her before I refocused on Jamie.

“I have so many people I’d like to thank. I’d like to thank Claire, our wonderful director, and John and Marilyn for all taking a chance on a no name to lead yer show. I’d like to thank my fellow cast members, particularly Joe and Louise for answering all my questions and really guiding me through my first show on Broadway.”

I was beaming the whole time he spoke, resting my hand over my heart when I heard my name.

“I also want to thank my family for supporting my crazy dreams and never telling me to try something more practical.” He paused for just a second, masking it by clearing his throat. But his eyes somehow found me in the audience and stayed there. “And there’s one more person I have to thank. The person who has been my rock through this wild change in my life.”

Another pause. A slight raise of the eyebrow as he looked at me. Keeping our relationship a secret had led to a strong ability for us to read each other’s expressions and know what the other was saying or asking. And in this moment, I knew what he was asking. Permission. I nodded immediately.

“The love of my life, Claire,” he said, with a nod at me. The tears continued to stream down my cheeks. I felt Brian’s hand grab my arm. “Thank you all for this honor. I canna say thank you enough.” Raising his award slightly higher, he nodded and walked off the stage.

Jamie was barely off the stage when the questions started. Joe and Louise were at my side immediately. “I’m sorry, what did he say?” Joe asked.

I shot a look at Brian before turning to my friends. “What’s your question?”

“Have you and Jamie been dating?” Louise demanded.

There was no point in lying about it anymore. I’d kissed him and he’d called me the love of his life. All our efforts to keep our relationship a secret were over. I took a deep breath, finally being able to talk about it. “Umm...yes.”

“What?” Louise screeched. “When? How? But also, when?”

“Yeah, you said that,” I reminded her.

“Well you haven’t answered her yet,” Joe defended.

I pointed to the stage where the next set of presenters were coming out. “You should go back to your seats. We don’t want our show to look bad.” They rolled their eyes at me. Joe went right back to his seat.

Louise took a bit longer. “We’re not done discussing this.”

“I’m sure not,” I replied, craning my head back to her.

More awards were announced as we waited for Jamie to return to his seat. Brian stood from his seat and wound around to sit where Jamie had been sitting. “Well, now that the two of ye have rather made things public, I figure ye can sit together, no?” I shrugged. I didn’t see why we couldn’t do so.

When Jamie returned, he paused for a second, seeing his dad in his chair. Both his parents pointed to the seat next to me. Same as me, he shrugged and walked to his seat. I was thankful for Brian’s short game of musical chairs. When Jamie sat down, I immediately grabbed his hand and laced my fingers with his. “Congratulations,” I whispered to him. He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You bloody won.”

“So did ye,” he reminded me. I rolled my eyes at him. “Ye’re no’ mad at me, are ye?”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean. “Why would I be?”

“What I said?” he asked, looking a bit nervous.

Bursting out laughing, I shook my head. “God, no. I mean, I was the one who kissed you in front of the cameras for crying out loud. No, I promise I’m not mad. After all, we said after the Tony Awards, right? I suppose at the Tony Awards works just as well.”

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss me quickly. Both of us seemed to feel relieved to be able to show at least a little affection again. It would be odd getting used to doing so in public, but I would be happy to get used to it.

The last award that our show was up for was finally approaching. I wasn’t as nervous as I’d been for any other award. I supposed it had to do with so many other things going right that night. When our show was called as the winner, it just felt like the cherry on top. I saw the absolute joy in Jamie’s eyes and he jumped up, wrapping me in a big hug.

I started the walk to the stage, most of the cast and John behind me. When I reached down to gather my skirt in my hands, I felt a familiar hand hold my elbow. Glancing back, I saw Jamie smiling brightly as he talked to Joe on our way up the stairs. He didn’t even seem to know what he was doing. It was just instinctual for him to help me. I took the Tony from the presenter and stood at the mic, gesturing for John to join me. Of the producers, he’d been the only one to come to the awards show. No one else was my producing partner. Just John.

Together, John and I thanked all the people we needed to, including the cast behind us. I looked back at them and saw the glee on each one of their faces. As John spoke, I reflected on production — the times I’d been too hard on them, the times I felt like I wasn’t doing my best, the times that things felt like they were really flowing. I thought back on all of it and how somehow it had gotten us all up on the Tony stage, accepting individual and collective awards. I felt a bit vindicated in that moment.

The music started to play and we were ushered off the stage, celebrating as a group for the first real moment. John held the Tony out for the group that had formed a circle around him. In a hushed voice, he said, “We did it!” We all cheered softly, noting not to be too loud.

Without even meaning to, Jamie and I had congregated next to each other. His arm was automatically around my waist. I was so used to it, I didn’t even realize, until I saw Louise notice it. There was a delay for us to go to the press room and so Louise had her moment to interrogate us.

She turned on us, waggling a finger between me and Jamie. “I speak on behalf of the entire cast,” she said. “How long has this been going on?”

Jamie and I looked at each other, trying our best to suppress our smiles. “Um, Opening Night,” I confessed.

Multiple jaws dropped open. “You’re kidding me!” Joe replied. “You have been together for nine months? Without telling any of us?”

“Well that’s not completely true,” I admitted. “Jamie told John.”

“That’s not completely true,” Jamie argued. “John called me and heard Claire in the background and I just didn’t lie when he asked me.”

Our friends laughed at us, shaking their heads. Joe threw his arm around Laoghaire’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face. “Well we’re all happy for you. Disappointed you didn’t feel like telling us, but happy for you guys. Aren’t we?” He looked over at Laoghaire. She plastered on a fake smile and nodded. Looking back at me, Joe winked. He knew what he was doing.

“We are happy for you,” Louise agreed. “But why all the secrecy? Did you think we wouldn’t be happy for you?”

“It wasn’t that,” I promised her. “No, we just didn’t want anyone to think anything indecent was going on.” Jamie nodded next to me. “Believe me, it would have been easier to just tell you. We were just trying to be cautious.”

“Perhaps more cautious than we needed to be, but still. Once we’d kept the secret for such a long time, it was hard to think of a way to stop keeping it,” Jamie told them.

“It was probably pretty sexy keeping it all a secret too, wasn’t it?” Louise asked, waggling her brows. I swear, I saw Laoghaire lose some color in her face.

“Good Lord, Louise,” I replied.

She winked at me, walking over and throwing her arm around my shoulder. Whispering just to me, she said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Thankfully, we were ushered into talk to the press and the conversation around me and Jamie was tabled for the time being.

After the show ended, we went to the after party. It was the first event Jamie and I had gone to as a couple and I was reveling in it. My hand was in his as we walked in, as we talked to others, as we danced. It was great to finally be able to claim him as my own to the public. My whole body felt relaxed. I could tell that he seemed to be pretty relaxed as well.

When Jamie and I sat down at a table in the corner, Louise, John, and Joe followed us. The five of us sat talking and sure enough, the conversation turned back to me and Jamie. We answered the questions we wanted to and ignored the ones we didn’t.

“So seriously, how did this happen,” Louise asked. “I’m just so surprised by it. Not that I don’t think you guys would work well together, just that you kept it a secret for so long. And that I didn’t see it coming.”

I leaned forward, the others following my lead. “Okay, John already knows this and I trust you and Joe.” Louise nodded excitedly. “And besides, the entire theater community just deemed Jamie a good actor, so I don’t have to worry about this as much.” I looked to Jamie, making sure he was alright with me telling the real story of how we got together. He shrugged and nodded to me. “Okay, so one night I went out to a bar and met Jamie. We used fake names and spent the night together. Then, the next day he auditioned for the show.”

Louise laughed so loudly I felt the need to lean away from her. “Shut up!” Jamie confirmed the story. “You cast your one night stand in your show?”

“Well, it wasn’t just my choice,” I assured her. “If I’d been the only one who thought he was a good actor and John and Marilyn had insisted on someone else, I probably wouldn’t have fought it. But they wanted him too.”

“And clearly he was good,” John reminded her. Jamie made an uncomfortable noise. “Man, you have the bloody Tony to prove it. You’re a good actor. Stop acting weird when we compliment you.” Joe laughed, clapping Jamie on the back.

“Wow,” Louise said, holding the word out. “That’s crazy. How did you two just act so casual around each other?”

I looked at Jamie, remembering how I’d felt drawn to him, how I’d gravitated toward him even when I knew I shouldn’t. I thought back on how I avoided him when my feelings became too much. Perhaps I was a better actor than I thought I was if even Louise had no idea anything had gone on between us. “I don’t know,” I replied. “We just usually tried to pretend it didn’t happen.”

We sat there for a moment, taking sips of our drinks or thinking back on production. Suddenly, Joe burst out in a loud laugh. “I’m sorry, I just keep thinking of how many fucking times Laoghaire has asked you out in the last nine months. And the whole time you were secretly with Claire,” he said, laughing at Jamie’s expense.

“Well hell, it’s been more than the last nine months. It was all throughout production too. She constantly tried to find reasons to get him to go out with her. Girl could not take a hint,” Louise recalled. She looked over at me with a concerned glance. “Maybe you should lay low for a while, Claire. Now that Jamie’s girlfriend officially has a name, she may put a hit out on you.”

I laughed and shook my head, leaning into Jamie’s side. “She doesn’t scare me,” I said. Nothing really did so long as I was with Jamie.

When we walked in the door of our home, it felt like nothing had really changed. But everything had, for both of us and for our relationship. I sat my clutch and my new Tony down on the island. I could feel Jamie behind me. His arm reached past me to put his award down too. Before I could turn around to him, I felt his lips against my shoulder. Slowly, he unhooked the straps where they were fixed at my neck before kissing where they’d been sitting. My hand came up behind me and held onto his head. His arms came around me, roaming up and down my stomach and my sides.

I needed more. Turning in his arms, I crushed my mouth to his. My hands were in his hair and my body was flat against his. As they were wont to do, his hands found their way to my arse, kneading. I felt a moan escape me just before his tongue met mine. It was one of those times when I was fairly certain we wouldn’t make it to our bed. My desperation for him came on suddenly and was surely powerful.

Without breaking away from him, I slid his jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, throwing it to the floor. Jamie broke away from me, moving to my neck again. As he kissed a trail, I worked at undoing his tie. We were still essentially in our entryway and neither of us seemed to care. Once the tie was off, I was working diligently at the buttons on his shirt. It took me some time as Jamie started sucking near my pulse point. When all the buttons were undone, I threw the shirt off him as fast as I could. His hands moved up to the top of the zipper on my dress.

“This isna yers, right?” he asked, panting.

“Right. Don’t tear it.” I felt his huff against my shoulder and couldn’t help but laugh. Kissing a path back to his ear, I whispered to him, “It’s fine if the undergarments get ripped.” His eyes were dark as they met mine, a grin forming on both of our faces.

He quickly got the zipper down and pushed it down my hips. I stepped out of the dress, kicking it to the side. Jamie pulled me back in for a long, deep kiss. My hands were all over him, unable to stay in one place. I started walking backwards, thinking maybe we could make it to the couch. Jamie reached down to remove his kilt, but I stopped his hands.

“Leave it on.”

He raised one brow to me and I nodded slowly. Stepping toward me again, he tripped, toppling toward me and making both of us crash to the floor. After a moment of shock at his large body pinning me suddenly, I didn’t really mind.

“Christ, are ye alright, Claire?” He propped himself up over me, running one hand down the side of my face softly.

I laughed loudly, wrapping one arm around his neck. “I’m fine. I may hurt tomorrow, but right now I really don’t care. Come here.”

He looked skeptical til I pulled him closer with the arm around his neck. Once I was kissing him again, he didn’t seem to mind either. Jamie lowered himself against me, kissing me fiercely. My legs wrapped around his hips, feeling the need to move things forward. I lifted my hips against his and bit his lip. Pulling back, he shot me a look full of question and desire. I nodded to him. Surging up, I kissed him again roughly.

His hand drifted down, finding my center, finding how ready I truly was. I couldn’t stop the moan that ripped out of me as he deftly used his fingers. It wasn’t what I wanted, though. “Jamie,” I whined, reaching for him.

Finally taking my hint, he moved his kilt out of the way and pushed inside me. I cried out at the feeling, clutching to him. He leaned over me, leaning down to kiss me slowly as he started moving within me. We moved together, slowly at first as the fire built between us, and we rocked frantically against each other. My hands were clawing at his back as his mouth attached to my neck. We’d both be sore tomorrow, especially from the crash to the floor. At the moment, neither of us had enough room in our minds to care about that. All I needed was him and vice versa.

I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge, the wave readying to crash over me. Jamie was slowing down and I nearly screamed. His hands and his mouth moved slowly, worshipping my body with his attention. I grabbed his face between my hands, urging him to keep going. That was my mistake. Now it was a game to him, torturing me when I was so close to release. He pressed reverent kisses to my collarbone, my neck, my cheeks, moving in gentle thrusts within me.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I reached down to the place of our joining. Jamie grabbed my hand and pinned it to the floor next to my head with a devious glint in his eye and a hard thrust. I groaned in reply. My ankles were at his lower back, trying my best to urge him in the way I needed. We’d been so desperate for each other, and suddenly he was dragging it out, torturing me in the best way.

“Jamie,” I cried. “For the love of God.”

He breathed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to my lips. Listening to my pleas, he picked up his earlier pace, hitting deep within me. I cried out again, for a different reason. I held onto him as he thrust over and over, bringing me right back to the edge. His hand found my center, sending shockwaves through my body. My release hit me, making my entire body tighten around him. He moved erratically, finding his release within me and promptly collapsing back on top of me.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” I agreed, patting his shoulder lazily.

He pressed a soft kiss to my nose before rolling off me. We laid together on the floor, trying to regain our energy. I moved onto my side, kissing his shoulder before his arm moved and tucked me into him. We were close enough that I reached out and yanked at the corner of a blanket that sat on the arm of the couch. I spread it out over us, deciding that we weren’t moving for a bit.

As we laid there, we talked about the evening, the surprising highs of the awards show — other than our wins. Without much warning, I jumped up, moving out from under the blanket. I grabbed our two new awards and marched toward the bookshelf where my Tony from years ago resided. I moved it up to a different shelf before putting ours side by side on the original shelf.

I stood back and smiled as I looked at it. Jamie stood up as well, walking over to me. He stood behind me, wrapping both the blanket and his arms around me. I held onto his arms, not moving my eyes from the sight before me. “I know it’s not all about the awards,” I said, breaking the silence between us, “but that’s a damn good sight.”

He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I have to agree wi’ ye. I wanted so badly no’ to care, but it feels verra good right about now.”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “I told you so.”

“Hmm?”

“That first morning we had here, you stood in this very spot and looked at my Tony. I told you that you should get used to the weight of it. You doubted me, but I told you so,” I reminded him, giving him a look.

He shook his head at me, a grin forming on his face. “If I recall correctly, I said I’d rather get used to the weight of ye in my arms.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you did.”

Jamie bent down, picking my feet out from under me and taking me in his arms. “I’d say that’s come more in handy than holding that one trophy tonight.”

“Oh yeah?”

He shifted on his heels, bouncing me in his arms. I screamed slightly, clinging to him. Jamie laughed, walking off toward our room. He tossed me down on the bed and crawled over me. “Aye, I’d say it’s still the better option.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as I shook my head at him. “Come here,” I commanded, pulling him down to me. It was a good thing John and I had agreed not to work tomorrow. Jamie and I had a long night of celebrating ahead of us.

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing #all the shine of a thousand spotlights

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just-call-me-j-10v3 · 4 years

Text

Episode .5

The beginning

https://just-call-me-j-10v3.tumblr.com/post/643250003280904192/episode-1-the-truth-of-the-missing-brother

On the twelfth hour on the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves went around to collect as many as he could, however he only got eight of them.

Number eight, or Jela Hargreeves as she would be later known as, was a special case, simply because her mother had abandoned her from the start. On that twelfth hour a woman that goes by the name Marie Laurence was amongst the couple dozen not so fortunate women to be struck with those harsh birthing pains.

Her screams of pain were ignored in that New York alleyway, she had been walking home from her job as an exotic dancer. Marie would consider it honest work, maybe, if it weren’t for the fact that she was in deep debt with her boss. She was in too much trouble and having a kid, it would end up ruining her life forever.

She had the baby in that gloomy and damp alleyway and after she collected herself she left the child to die. She called the cops anonymously, saying that she had heard a baby crying in that damned alleyway for her own conscience's sake, (Jela didn’t see her until she later offered her the money she would’ve gotten for her from Reginald out of spite, a way to say she was better off without her, but let's keep that between us).

Reginald held that abandoned baby girl in his arms, he looked her in the eyes and when he saw that lack of emotion in her eyes the way she was so detached from everyone else.

“She has never been held before me, how is that so?” he had asked them as they told him this shocking news.

“No sir, we had figured we were picking up a dead body when we received the call, you came just as we set up to carefully extract her. The only issue we’re having is she doesn’t seem to cry or make noises, we’re afraid she might not have the ability to or other such issues. We really think it’s best to have her stay in the hospital with the other’s you have adopted.” The nurse suggests as she looks at the newborn in his arms.

“I will be taking her home with me now, the others I will pick up when they're ready, she needs to be held by me and me alone.” He says before leaving to take care of the little girl at home…

You see, Jela to Reginald was going to be his special child, the one he treated differently to see if it revoked a different outcome, her childhood she was known as ‘Daddy’s favorite’ but the others will never fully understand the amount of extra torment the emotionless one got as Reginald’s true number one.

That’s where we move to today, when you see the outcome of the little heros, the day where numbers 1-7 were met with a weight off their shoulders, but the day number eight was met with her first ever jolt of grief… The day of Reginald Hargreeves’ death.

Jela sat there, watching her sister playing violin on that late night, she would always go out of her way to see her.. After all Vanya and Jela were the only two the others didn’t exactly get along with.. She was watching when she got a call, she got up out of her seat, flashing Vanya a quick ‘I’ll be back’ look before walking away to answer the call.

“Unless someone died you shouldn’t be calling me and you damn well know that.” Jela snarls as she answers the phone, she knew that it wasn’t anyone she cared about, just another one of her workers.

“I’m sorry boss, listen, it’s that damned Hero of yours again, he showed up at that small hit you had set up, a few of our guys didn’t make it.” The worker in question states solemnly, shaking his head and biting his lip.

“Good, that means he feels like he saved the day, that was the point Speedy, I know you don’t get it but they needed to go.. Call them, I don’t know, casualties, another statistic. Whatever makes you feel better, just get someone into the coroner's office to burn, cut or even cover up those tattoos. I don’t need Diego finding out about my operation, got it?” She says with lack of emotion, something that came naturally to her, however, feeling emotions, that was the hard part. She sighs, knowing that her workers like to call each other family, she thinks on it as she hears his silence, most likely biting his tongue. "Alright, I know what you’re thinking.. I'll call a meeting with the Pit (A group of snakes), we’ll get our snakes in a group and take a day off to mourn, sound good Speedy?”

“Thanks Queeny, I’m sure their families will appreciate it, I’ll make sure we send them the usual parting gift.” He says, sounding more content with that outcome.

“Don’t start expecting it every time some run of the muck idiot dies to someone as bullheaded as number two, this is an exception, only because there were multiple losses at once.” Jela sighs, just hanging up, about to go back in when she receives another phone call…

“Mom, it’s late, why are you calling me?” She says, false worry in her tone, she never worries, or, rather, she never feels the emotion that comes with the idea of worrying. That’s when she hears it, the whispering of those three goddesses, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, or, also known as, the Moirae… the Fates. And with those whispers starts coming the emotions, she feels the fear, the agony, the grief… “No- Mom tell me you didn’t.”

“Please I need you to help me Marie-” She says, calling her by the name she had given Jela in the beginning.

“It’s Jela, and don’t move a muscle, don’t tell Pogo, don’t call anyone else, I will be there. You are lucky I was taught to respect you as my mother otherwise I would gladly be an orphan tonight.” She hung up the phone, telling Vanya that a job went wrong and she has to go, she calls one of her cars, the driver drops it off and walks away. She gets in and goes home, when she gets there she quickly works on cleaning and setting everything up to make it look like an accident, nothing remotely suggesting otherwise. She quickly messes with Grace’s programming, editing the cameras to remove herself, but leaving the truth about their fathers death to be found.. She went to her old room that night and for the first time since she was a child she sat there and cried…

The news got out the next morning and Jela was there to meet number two, who had felt the need to do his own check on Reginalds death. She watched as he walked around the room, examining things and making sure there wasn't any struggle.

“Diego, looks like you only care to visit after he’s dead, mom definitely missed her st-st-stuttering stanley.” She teased with a smirk, her eyes showing a slight glint of mischief, even with the circumstances she has to act like herself, even though she hates how she feels she can’t show that she does feel.

He throws a knife at her and she doesn’t even flinch as that knife flies directly next to her head, the wind from it moving her jet black hair. “When did you last see dad, Marie.”

She snarls a bit, absolutely loathing that name, her two toned eyes going darker at the sound of it. “You can say what you wish about me and call me what you wish, but don’t you dare insinuate that I killed my father.” Her voice cracks a bit, her eyes watering a bit, normally it would make people feel remorse or pity, but for Diego, it scared him to see Jela tear up like that.. An emotional Jela is a deadly one. Which means, if Reginald did die from muder Jela would have them dealt with already… Unless they were family, and she only considers a few people family.. He better call Allison and make sure she’s alive at some point… Just in case.

“Calm your tits or at least cover them, what the hell are you wearing anyways?” He says, getting distracted by her all too revealing outfit.

She couldn’t help but smile a little at that response, blinking her tears away and shaking her head. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She says, looking down at her black sweatpants, combat boots and crop top.

“I’m not an idiot, you just have the same iq as that one dude with the apple.” He says, playing dumb to try and break through those walls she has been building up, they used to be close when they were teens, he still likes to believe he knows her better than anyone. He knows how to make her smile at least.

She lets out a small laugh, smiling a bit. “You and I both know you damn well remember who Issac Newton is, stop playing dumb.”

“Tell anyone I did that and we’re going to have another match like when we were twelve.” He warns before he starts to leave to sneak into the coroner's office.

“You cheated! We considered the choke hold against the rules prior to the match!” She frowns something close to a pout.

“I adapted Miss ‘I can see the future’ maybe talk to your witches next time!” He shouts back, only to have a shelf that had been holding up perfectly well their whole lives fall directly on top of him.

She burst out laughing as she watches him stand back up in the hallway, holding his head. “That’s what you get for calling the three Goddesses of fate witches! You never learn.” he scoffs and just leaves without another comment. Jela goes and sits in the living room, looking at the painting of her old favorite sibling before texting Vanya. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when you found out.. You have to come to the funeral or else we’ll have to have one for one of the others soon after, love you.

Allison was the first to make it there, Jela was sitting on a rocking chair next to their mom, reading in front of the fireplace in a black pantsuit, her jet black hair straight, as per usual, her green and brown eyes looking over as Allison walks in, scanning her up and down, her eyes flashing to a pure white colour, almost as if she were blind, something that happens when the fates talk to her. “Troubles at home I see, if you need help getting your daughter back I can help you out.”

“Don’t use the fates to spy on my life, if you cared you would actually call me.” She says with a frown, shaking her head.

“Says the one that didn’t invite me to her wedding, but you’re right, I don’t care about you in this instance, however, I do care that Claire doesn't get to see her mom, my niece deserves better.” She states in a melancholy voice. That’s when another one of their siblings enters.

“Hey Mom, mom?” Jela glances at the robot in question, sighing, she’s going to have to do another repair…

“Vanya?” Allison says as she recognizes the voice. “You’re actually here..” Vanya lets out a relieved sigh as her sister walks over to hug her. Jela sets down the book she was reading, or rereading should I say, as she watches her siblings hug. Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven (Vanya Hargreeves' self-written tell-all auto-biography) Oh how Jela loves that book, the most truthful thing she has ever seen in her life, even paints her as a villain.. Jela always loved playing the villain, even when they were training as kids.

“Hey Allison..” she says as her sister lets her go. Jela stands up to join the girls after setting her book down, walking over to them.

“Hah, what is she doing here? You don’t belong here. Not after what you did.” Diego says, dramatic and closed off as ever as he walks through the door.

“Talk to her like that and you’ll lose your tongue.” Jela snaps, standing protectively by her sister who never knows how to respond when Jela stands up for her like that.

“You two are seriously gonna do this today?” Allison asks, glancing over at Jela who she knows better than to get on her bad side before looking at Diego's outfit. He looked like offbrand Batman. “Way to dress for the occasion by the way.”

“And he was making fun of my crop top the other day, at least my clothes don’t make my ass look flat.” She whispers to Vanya, making her giggle a bit, Jela knew how to cheer her up.

“At least I’m wearing black.” He responds, either ignoring Jela’s comment or he didn’t hear it. Vanya looks at him walking away and Jela can practically feel the anxiety radiating off of her.

“You know what? I- Maybe he’s right and I shouldn’t-” Vanya starts, proving to Jela that she was right, like usual.

“Forget about him.” Jela and Allison say at the same time, making Jela wonder if the fates were messing with her or if she’s just more like her sister than she thought. “We’re glad you’re here.” Allison finishes off before they head to the living room to sit down.

Jela, however, meets up with Diego at the top of the stairs, knowing that he’s going to see Luther snooping around. “You’re an asshole to Vanya, she spoke the truth, that’s more than most of us.” She says, earning a glare from Diego, family events always puts him in a brooding mood. “She spoke out against someone she deemed as an abuser and she stood up against her siblings for bullying her. She has the right to tell her side of the story.”

“She made us look evil, I’m not a bad guy Jela.” He snaps, glaring at her, getting more frustrated at how calm she looks.

“You’re the only genuine hero I know Diego, she was venting and got money out of it, any kind of publicity is good publicity, if you have an issue with the book, write a statement on it and post it.” She says with a shrug, watching the shocked and confused look on Diego's face when she calls him a hero. She goes to speak again, only to be shushed as he hears Luther rummaging around and they walk towards it.

They stand in the doorway, watching him for a moment, the villain and hero, side by side. “We can save you some time.” Diego states as they both lean against their sides of the doorframe.

“They’re all locked, no forced entry.” Jela continues, her and DIego used to be a great team when they worked together..

“No sign of struggle, nothing out of the ordinary.” Diego says as he slowly walks towards his brother. “Oh, you got big, Luther. What’s the secret, huh? Protein Shakes? Low carbs?” Jela lets out a small laugh, really just watching them to make sure they don’t break anything if they fight.

“What do you want?” Luther asks, glancing at Jela before looking Diego in the eyes, something Reginald taught all of them, eye contact shows that you aren’t afraid. Diego lets out a sigh that slightly resembles a scoff before taking a paper out of his pocket, one Jela knew he damn well shouldn’t be able to have. That’s vigilantes for you.

“The autopsy report.” He says, holding it out for Luther to grab, but as soon as he goes for it Diego pulls it slightly out of reach. “Ah.” He says like the teasing sibling he is before letting him grab it.

“And you have this why?” Luther asks, opening the paper with more gusto than Jela would’ve liked, she has a feeling that Luther isn’t going to let this go, and that frustrates her.

Diego walks away a bit, facing the door and winking at Jela, “Well that’s because I… broke into the coroner's office.” He says with his arms open and a slight bow before sitting down in a chair. “And surprise, surprise, Dad’s death was… normal. Just a boring old heart failure.” Jela walks over to Luther, grabbing one of his arms and pulling it towards her height so she could look at it. She immediately realizes something and gives Diego a bit of a look.

“Yeah, so.” Luther says, a bit offstandish about it, looking at the picture, skimming over the report a bit.

“So, why are you in here, checking all of the windows.” He was with a slight raise and drop of his hands to gesture at the room they’re sitting in.

“Were you the first on the scene?” Luther asks, slight suspicion in his tone, looking at his brother, Jela watches the interaction, knowing where this is going.

“Pogo reported the body.” Jela says, very particular with her words, something they’ve all gotten used to over the years of growing up with Jela.

“Yeah, I talked to Pogo, he said he couldn’t find Dad’s monocle.” Luther says, giving Jela a look, she knew that look, he always wore it when they would be training in the detective work of the job.

“And your point being?” Diego says, shrugging his shoulders and brushing it off, that’s when Jela knew that he had taken it, she didn't understand why he would want a monocle, it wouldn't look good on him so it must be an emotional decision.

“Well can either of you think of a single time where you saw dad and he wasn’t wearing that monocle?” He counters, looking at Jela for support, but this is when she just shakes her head and leaves to have her own conversation with her more chill siblings.

She could practically smell the classic scent of drugs and booze when her favorite sibling entered the building, she smiles a bit, walking towards her fathers study and laughing a little as she sees him rummaging through their dead fathers things. “Let me guess, an advance on our inheritance?”

“Oh, that’s perfect! I’ll have to use that one!” Klaus says, walking up to Jela and pulling her into a hug, she groans, completely tensing up. He quickly lets go and throws his hands up. “Oh right! Sorry, no hugs.” He says, giving her a quick peck on the cheek insead and she sighs, glancing back at the door.

“Well, if you don’t find anything I can give you something light to keep the real bad ones away, you know how I feel about the hard shit, but my business is doing great and I don’t want you to have to deal with those nightmares… Ben’s yelling at me isn't he?” She says, practically feeling the ghosts glare.

“More like just giving you a thorough glare, says he doesn’t like how we influence each other. Do you know I love you?” He says with a smile, before going back to rummaging, That’s when Allison walked in and Jela looked back at her, seeing that look on her face reminded her of when they were younger…

Jela was sitting in a chair next to Reginald, the others were getting ready for bed, but not Jela, Jela was stuck with her Father still even though they had training in the morning. She sat next to him, thread with gold intertwined in it wrapped tightly around her hands, tight enough that she knew she would have marks the next morning and it would hurt to fight. She used it (and sometimes still uses it) as a conduit to connect with her deities, most people would have a shrine or candles and other such things, but Jela wasn’t religious, she was just chosen and created to withstand the emotional turmoil and the pain that comes with the knowledge of the future.

There’s a knock on the door and it breaks her concentration, coming back from talking to the three goddesses her eyes go from the blind white color to the mismatching green and brown. She looks down in time to see that the thread has cut through her skin, but knows better than to stop because of it.

“The children are ready for bed sir, they wanted to say goodnight.” Grace says cheerfully as she enters, part of her mothering program wanting to override her other systems and go help Jela… But she couldn’t, no matter what she wasn’t allowed to help Jela, only Reginald was. It was in her programming.

The door opened and Jela looked up, making eye contact with the others, the only ones who showed no jealousy at all were FIve and Klaus… They know the truth, she had told them all about what it was like being his favorite. Their father didn’t even bother to glance. “Okay! TIme for bed now kids, come along. Come along now.” Grace says as she ushers them out.

“Come along now Allison, your father and sister are busy.” Grace said to her as she was the last to budge.

“He’s always busy, and she isn’t my sister.” She says before walking out, Jela showed no sign of caring about Allisons harsh words, they both were too alike and bumped heads and she knew that. Reginald saw Jela’s lack of emotional response that night and cleaned her wounds before taking her out for ice cream, only to leave Jela out in the woods for a week after that ice cream.. That was her reward, other than usual training she got life or death. She lost weight but she made it out without so much as a scratch, she could only give the explanation that the fates were on her side.

“Jela, what are you two doing in here?” Allison asks, bringing Jela back to present times, she blinks once, collecting herself as she glances at Klaus, who quickly gets up from his spot behind Reginalds desk.

“Oh! Allison! Wow, is that you?” Klaus asks as he walks over to her, Jela stepping to the side as she lets her favorite sibling talk his way out of this one. “Hey, come here. Long time, too long.” He states, pulling Allison into one of his comforting hugs.

He pulls away from her a little and looks into her eyes, Jela walking away from those two as she walks over to her spot next to her fathers chair, one of her most recent art projects sitting on the desk. It was of number Five with an axe, his face covered in blood… She still did projects with her dad and they have recently been trying to get her sibling back, it had been their main focus. She could tell dad was getting paranoid, she just never wanted to see that it was going to be her mom that betrayed him. She wishes that her deities would’ve shown her that instead of a worthless picture of Five.

“Hey, I was hoping to see you actually, because I want to get your autograph. Add it to my collection.” Klaus saying this makes Jela focus on their conversation, she laughs a little, shaking her head.

“Klaus, I love you but I think it’s your drug dealers that have the collection, not you.” Jela says bluntly, looking at the two.

Klaus gasps and Jela almost expects him to be offended until he says, “You love me? I win! I was the first one you said it to, everyone owes me twenty bucks!” He is excited about it, Jela looks at him, not even shocked as she watches Allison hand him twenty bucks.

“Just out of rehab?” She asks when she sees the medical bracelet on Klaus’ arm, her eyebrow cocked, regretting giving him the money.

“No, no. No, no, no, no. No. I’m done- I’m done with all that.” Jela looks up at him, knowing better than that, plus, he stutters when he lies. “I just came down here to prove to myself that the old man was really gone. And he is! He’s dead. Yeah!” He says, clapping with excitement.

“You know how I know? ‘Cause if he were alive, only one of us would be allowed to set foot in this room. He was always in here, our whole childhood, plotting his next torment, right? I mean, Jela you know how he used to look at us, that scowl.” He says, pointing up at the portrait.

“Thank Christ he wasn't our real father so we couldn’t inherit those cold, dead eyes!” He says, pulling his eyes open and screaming a little with a chuckle. Jela looks at the scars on her hands from all the training she went through, the lack of sleep she had gotten, she was the only one that went without a half an hour break on the weekends. Without him she’d most likely be dead or have no idea how to communicate with the fates, if the fates say that this is where she is meant to be then so be it, she looks at Klaus who is sitting in their fathers chair, looking out the window for a moment.

“He wasn’t a good person by all means, but he was a great one. He pushed us to our limits and made us face things that no one else will hopefully ever have to face, but he was my father and I didn’t wish any kind of death on him. He is gone, his thread has been cut. That should be the end of his story, but-” She groans, the whisperings happening again and she grips the string in her pocket, she isn't allowed to tell them that yet. “...But I wish I was able to tell him that he wasn’t as smart as he believed and that his legacy is failing. It seems I’m the only one able to continue with the majority of his-”

“Blah blah blah, can we go back to you saying how much you love me, oh! We could go for a walk and buy brownies at the store!” Klaus interrupts, Jela just shakes her head at him. He is the only one that has ever gotten away with doing something like that. “Jela, sis, I love you.”

“Don’t over use it or it won’t hold as much meaning, but… I love you too Klaus.” She says looking in one of their fathers drawers and finding a picture that she took of her kissing Reginalds cheek, he looks so serious, but you can see a bit of a smile hidden there.. It was from their last ice cream trip, that was two days ago. She made him take a break because he was getting extremely paranoid, he told her she reminded him of Grace that day, the real one.. It shocked her… She should’ve known something bad was coming...

“Get out of his chair.” Luther says sternly, walking into the room, Jela sighs.. Luther has so much devotion to a man that he didn’t even really know. He thinks the numbers are based on the first being the best, but in reality it was based on a point system like Jela is an eight out of eight stars. She knows that Vanya has to have an ability, she just wishes she could figure out how to provoke it.

“Oh, wow, Luther! Wow, you really, uhh...You really filled out over the years, huh?” Klause says gesturing as if he was flexing his arms.

“Klaus.” Luther says in that same stern, scolding tone as he watches his brother, shaking his head a bit.

“Eh, save the lecture. I was already leaving. So, you guys can talk amongst yourselves.” He says with a small, teasing laugh as he walks towards the door, Jela walking to follow, smirking when Luther puts an arm in front of Klaus.

“Drop it.” He says and Jela can see his anger building up, it’s only a matter of time before he snaps and she's pretty positive it’s going to be on Diego.

“Ex-squeeze me?” Klaus says, playing dumb as he makes eye contact with Luther, not afraid of him.

“Do it. Now.” Luther says, only glancing away to look at Jela with a look that says ‘you were really going to let him get away with this?’ There’s a bit of a pause before KLaus gets a frustrated look and pulls away from Luther.

“All right. All right.” He says as he pulls away and as he starts pulling things out of his pockets he says. “It’s just an advance on our inheritance! That’s all it is! No need to get your little panties in a bunch.” He says with a gesture to his crotch, Jela laughs, walking towards the door.. She had missed Klaus, Allison however just looks away, disappointed. She walks out with Klaus, shutting the door behind them.

“Okay I know you kept the box, just give me the book inside.” She says and he excitedly pulls it out of the back of his shirt, pulling it out. She uses her key and opens it, taking the content out and putting it in her purse.

“You’re my favorite sibling, you know that?” He says, giving her a kiss on the cheek making her get a grossed out look on her face.

“You’re invading my space, and you better only buy weed with that or else I’ll skin whoever sold to you.” She says seriously and he smirks, saluting her as he walks away, looking at Ben who is glaring at him. “What, you’re dead, she’s my favorite living sibling.”

“I miss when she would ask about what was morally correct and what wasn't.” Ben says with a sigh, glancing back at Jela.

“Don’t worry I’ll buy the hard stuff from the really awful guy that I owe money to, it would be like doing the world a favour.” Klaus says, basically putting a target on that guy's head.

“Klaus you know she’ll do it.” Ben says with a scolding tone, glaring at his annoying sibling.

“That’s the point!” He says with a mischievous smile, him and Vanya are the only two that know about Jela’s real job.

They all eventually end up in the living room sitting in silence, Jela goes to take a drink of alcohol only to have Diego take it from her, giving her a stern look. She snarls at him, no matter how many times she has explained to him that her seizures are from talking with the fates and not because of an actual physical ailment he doesn't believe her. “I want my drink Diego.”

“Jela, last time you drank you had a seizure.” Diego says back and she frowns, holding her hand out for her drink.

“You know she gets what she wants Diego, save us the fight..” Vanya says softly and Diego takes the drink, downing it. Jela gets a look in her eyes, one that she always gets when she’s planning something.

“Okay Batsy, I’ll get some water.” She snaps, but it's only a matter of time until something happens and she won’t be taking Diego's side. Luther clears his throat, standing up.

“I guess we should get this started. So, I figured we could have a sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at dad’s favorite spot.” Jela looks at Luther, shaking her head. Dad didn’t have a favorite spot, just a place where he made Luther feel important. The spot in question was the oak tree that Luther had an emotional connection to thanks to memories of their father.

“Dad had a favorite spot?” Allison asks, voicing almost everyone’s thoughts, she looks quite confused at the idea.

“You know, under the old oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time. None of you ever did that?” He says, a confused look on his face, Jela looks over and makes eye contact with Diego, he looks at her and she nods her head, confirming that not even she did that with Reginald.

“Will there be refreshments?” Klaus asks as he walks over with a joint and a drink of some sort, he lets Jela take a sip as he sits down. You can always count on Klaus to ask the important questions. “Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner.”

“What? No. And put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here.” Luther starts, only to be interrupted.

“Is that my skirt?” Allison asks, a tone that you would only hear coming from a sibling who has gotten their stuff ‘borrowed.’

“And my crop top, you better not get that dirty, it's my metallica one. Diego only let me cut one of his shirts I borrowed, and I like that one.” Jela says, giving Klaus a look.

“What? Oh, yeah, these. I found them in your rooms! It’s a little dated, I know, but this skirt is very breathy on the bits.” He was with a gesture towards his crotch.

“Listen up. Still some important things to discuss, all right?” Luther says, using his big boy leader voice, making Jela roll her eyes, she doesn’t really agree with him being a leader, but tolerated it to make him feel better about himself.

“Like what?” Diego asks, looking at Jela with an exasperated look.

“Like the way he died.” Luther says, making Jela let out a groan, any hope she had of abiding the issue being demolished.

“And here we go.” Diego says, Jela taking Klaus’ drink and drinking some of it, ignoring the glare it got her everytime she did.

“I don’t understand, I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Innocent Vanya says, looking at Jela for confirmation, she nods her head. That is what they said.

“Yeah, according to the coroner.” Luther says, Klaus holds his blunt to Jela’s lips and she takes a hit. Little did she know that Ben was yelling at Klaus for it the whole time.

“Well wouldn’t they know?” Vanya counters, giving him a slightly frustrated look.

“Theoretically.” Luther responds, and Jela could tell that he was getting even more bottled up frustration from this as no one believes him.

“Theoretically?” Allison asks with a frown.

“I’m just saying, at the very least, something happened. The last time I talked to dad, he sounded strange.” Luther states, trying to get them to take this seriously. Klaus starts gurgling his drink.

“Oh, quelle surprise!” He says while gurgling, Jela looks at Vanya, she’s starting to lose her patience.

“Strange how?” Allison asks, obviously upset by this, she just wants it to be over with.

“He sounded on edge. Told me I should be careful who to trust.” He says and Jela gets up, walking over to the book shelf and just moving on from this annoying conversation, letting the others deal with it. Only hearing the important part like Luther telling Klaus to sober up so he can talk to dad's ghost and bringing up the monocle which in turn frustrates Batman, then it comes out, making her smirk and walk back over to them. “So whoever took it, I think it was personal, someone close to him, someone with a grudge.”

“Where are you going with this?” Klaus asks and Jela just pats Luther's shoulder, wondering how someone should properly respond to this situation, she decides pity is the option.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed dad.” Diego says, now standing next to Luther, not once looking away, Jela snickers at the thought. Luther gets a guilty look on his face as they all stare at him.

“You do?” Klaus says his voice showing confused shock and his face just showing generally being upset with the thought.

“How could you think that?” Vanya asks, there was hurt hidden in her voice and Jela starts to feel protective over her siblings, after all, she knows who did it.

“Great. Job. Luther. Way to lead.” Diego says before leaving the room, presumably to hide how frustrated he really is.

“You’re wrong on this one Luther, take a step back and look at the full puzzle..” That’s all Jela says before walking to find Pogo.

“That’s not what I’m saying…” Luther says, trying to defend himself and his detective work, it was failing.

“You’re crazy man. You’re crazy. Crazy.” Klaus says, looking Luther in the idea before leaving as well.

“I’ve not finished.” Luther says, trying to get them to stay so he can change their minds.

“Okay, well I’m sorry, I’m just going to go murder mom. Be right back!” Klaus says sarcastically as he walks away from Luther, Vanya following.

“That’s not what I was saying, I didn’t-” He gives up, sighing a bit as he watches his siblings leave. “Allison. Jeez..” he says as she completely ignores him. “That went well.”

Jela sits in the kitchen, on the counter when Pogo walks in. “You’re too harsh on them you know, they are your only family.”

“I see three of them as my real family, Vanya, Klaus and Five. Allison, she’s a good woman and she deserves more than she gat, just like the others, if not more at times.. But she and I will never get along. And Luther is just, well, a dog on a leash and his owner just passed away. He doesn't know how to lead, I lead more than he does, even if it doesn’t look like it.” She says, leaning her head against the cupboard behind her.

“And Diego?” He says with a knowing look, smirking a bit. She gives him a slightly cold look, but sighs a bit and shakes her head.

“We have never called each other siblings, even corrected everyone on it growing up, not once have I seen him as or called him family. I think the fates always knew we would be something more… but it didn’t last, he left when he got the first chance to leave, and when he asked me to go with… I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave dad.. Even from the start dad had spent more time with me than the others, I was the only one he held as a baby and he was the only one I ever let hold me, not mom, not you, only him.. And now he’s gone. He’s dead and I seem to be the only one of his children who truly cares.” She says, looking at her hands.

“Jela, I-” He starts, trying to find a way to comfort her or help her… but he never had to before, nor did he get the chance to, Reginald was very strict on either he helps her or no one does. Now he’s gone. She looks up at him, but all those emotions leave her face when Grace comes in, along with Diego. Pogo walks over to grace and tells Diego she’s going to have a quick charge before the big event.

“Number two.” Jela says emotionlessly, still leaned back, but then she sees it, the pity in his eyes and it makes her groan. “Don’t. Whatever you heard, whatever you’re thinking, keep it in that smooth brain of yours, and yes, I mean the texture.”

“You can be a bitch sometimes you know that? A heartless, monstrous bitch.” He says and she doesn’t even flinch, she has heard it all before but what happens next shocks her. “But I know how much he meant to you.” He hands her the monocle. “I know you knew I had it, you should keep it.”

“Diego, there’s no point in me having this, he’s dead, we’re supposed to be moving on.” She says, shaking her head as she holds it in her hand.

“Do you remember our first mission?” He asks randomly, and she looks at him confused, nodding her head.

“I remember everything, Capital west bank outside of main and sixth, it was 17 years ago.” She says, still confused about why he was bringing it up.

There was a group of heavily armed men and they were trying to steal from the bank, they were dumb about how they did it, but smart enough to keep hostages. Jela had entered the building first, scoping out the place and telling all of her siblings which entrances were clear. Allison and her were the first to make appearances. Allison rumoured a man to shoot his friend in the foot and as she did that Jela walked up to a man, talking out one of her butterfly knives and looking him in the eyes.

“May the fates be on your side.” She said and the man held his gun up, trying to shoot at him, only for it to jam, Jela throws her knife at him, killing him instantly, as the rest of her siblings went around to finish off the others.

“Gun’s are for sissy real men throw knives!” Diego says, throwing one of his knives at a man, winking as Jela who just laughed a little at his dumb catchfrase. She walked over to the hostages, simply walking over to them and leading them out, every bullet missing them as they walked with her… They eventually got all of the ones in the main area and had Ben finish a group of them off with his ability before leaving, Jela pats Ben's shoulder comfortingly only to get a grossed out look on her face and taking her now bloody hand and wiping it on Diego. “Hey! That’s gross.” She just shrugs at him.

They walk out of the front doors, the cops yelling at them to lower their weapons and they didn’t because their knives were already holstered. Jela does as her dad told her to and walks to the middle, putting on a heroic face as the questions start coming.

“Who are you?” asks one news anchor and Jela looks at them, her dad said to keep them calm and he will step in when necessary.

“We’re the umbrella academy, a group of well trained heroes.” She answered smoothly, three siblings on each side of her, Luther seemed upset that she was answering questions, but she ignored his side glances.

“How did you get into the banks?” and “What happened inside?” Were the next two questions to be said out loud.

“How do you usually get inside of a building, or better yet, a building with locked doors, and I think it is quite obvious that all that happened inside doesn't matter, as long as the money is untouched and the people are safe.” She says, her voice loud enough to hear and it’s smooth, calming, careful.. She always knew how to sound like a hero. Their father gave a speech and the questions just kept coming, He put Jela under his arm, it showed that she was his prized child, she spoke for him..

She frowns a little at the memory, she used to be fond of it, now it hurts.. Why is that? “You chose such a stupid catchfrase.” She says, laughing, he walks in front of her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, their walls always down around each other… even if they didn’t realize it.

“I was a kid and you told me you loved it.” He says with a fake frown, she looks him in the eyes, he was standing directly in front of her now as he talks to her, she is still sitting on the counter. She feels herself missing how they used to be, before they became enemies… the only issue is, Jela knows it would never last, after all he had Eudora Patch now. Her hand twitches, and he knows that means she’s either murderous, upset, or uncomfortable, so he takes a step back.

“I was lovestruck and wanted to see you smile, trust me those oxytocin and vasopressin chemicals have gone, and from what I’ve heard from people on the force, your chemical imbalance when around me is gone too.” She says blankly, not showing any emotion, which is normal for her.

“Me and Eudora? Did she talk to you about me?” He asks and the way his eyes lit up with curiosity made her laugh.

“Diego, look at you, you’re a teddy bear.” She says with a snort, and just like that all of his walls come shooting up out if nowhere… and so do hers. They both can see it in each other's eyes, they aren’t ready to spend this much time together yet, she sighs. “I'm going to go find Klaus.” And with that she leaves. She walks towards where the bar is, but pauses for a moment, she pulls one of her golden threads out and holds it gently in her hand, and with that she sees her deities.

“Where are these emotions coming from? I thought you sai-” She says, almost about to get snarky with the ones she calls her godly parents.

“You will feel what you need to feel when you need to feel it, now listen to them. Stop believing in strength coming from how emotionless you are, give in and show him that you are sorry.” Atropos states, and Jela knew she should just agree.

“But-” She doesn’t apologize, she never apologizes. Why would she apologize to him when she doesn’t see what she did wrong, but why does she feel bad then.

“You are running out of time to speak with him, so make your choice.” Lachesis says before they send her soul back to her body.

When her sight comes back she groans, realizing that Clotho had walked her to the door of the living area.. She walks in and Diego looks at her from his spot at the couch. “I’m sorry, I still care, and I’m clingy.”

Diego gets an astounded look on his face, sitting up and looking her in the eyes. “Dads death really fucked with you, huh?” He asks, looking at her with complete and utter disbelief.

“No, I just know that no one will ever believe you if you tried to tell them I said that.” She says before walking over and sitting next to him, they sit in silence for a while.. Both a couple of brooding people who like the color black.

“I’m not that pissed, but I’m stronger and smarter than you act like I am.” He says, struggling to say those words.

“How about we-” She stops when she hears the music and looks at him when she gets an idea. She stands up, walking over to the door and checking both ways, shutting the door, Diego throws a knife past her and her pupils dilate, a laugh escaping her.

“How about we be stupid and just dance.” He says, holding his hand out, Jela isn’t a dancer… but she could never say no to that puppy do look, so she takes his hand and lets him spin and dip her before they pull away and start doing some random, fun moves. Sharing laughs and smiles, just like they did when they were kids… that's when thunder rumbles and the music stops. They share a confused look and rush towards the sound, Diego taking her hand on instinct and she doesn’t bother to question.

“What is it?” Vanya asks, fear clear in her voice as she looks to Jela for an answer.

“Don’t get too close!” Allison says, pulling Luther back by his arm gently, not once looking away.

“Yeah, no shit.” Diego says, but Jela ignores all of them, pulling her hand from Diego and getting closer to it, too curious for her own good. That's when one word rings through her head. Five.

“It’s a portal from a different timeframe.” Jela says, with knowledge from failed experiments.

“Out of the way!” KLaus yells, pulling Jela behind him as he tries to spray the portal with the fire extinguisher before throwing it in, Jela gives him a dirty look and pushes him back to the others.

“Get back, I don’t want you hurt.” Jela says, giving him a look and he steps back. That’s when something starts to push through.

“Get out of the way!” Luther says, pushing them back. “Stay behind me, stay behind me.

“Yeah, stay behind us.” Diego says, trying to reach for Jela to bring het behind him, only for her to take a step closer.

“FIve…” She says fondly, completely ignoring the chaos behind her, and just as he pushes through and falls out she catches him. Carefully setting him down.

“Does anyone else see little number five, or is that just me?” Klaus says, not looking away from Jela and Five as they all walk closer.

Five looks down at his body, seeing how young he is. “Shit…”

_______

ASK TO USE MY STORY

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy oc

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nosferatyou · 4 years

Text

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 2 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: The Girls first detroit show continues on with their headliner, the white stripes. And Lee gets to know our handsome stranger.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: Nicotine use and mentions of alcohol.

Notes: I know this is shorter but that felt like the best place to stop the chapter. Keep you on your toes you know. More notes at the end.

Chapter Three

If you’ve ever been to a house show or a show in a small venue, you know its standing room only, which means limited views of the artists. Which means most people are pushing to the front to get as close as possible. And it is our first Detroit show we had to get as close as possible.

Sure, I might have pushed a little too hard and made a small enemy, but it is always worth it for music.

You will feel it in your chest, and you’re probably going to have the most fun upfront. The only exception is the mosh pit, but the chances are good that you’ll be thrown in by accident at one point or another.

The girls and I had fully pushed and fought our way to the front; the only thing separating us from it was a group of assholes who didn’t understand what the sharp elbow jab meant.

The moment our newfound friends entered the stage, people lost their shit, and understandably so. They were Detroit’s little secret, so to say. Everybody loved them and thought they were the only ones to love them. Still, all the cheering was enough for us to get kicked for a noise complaint.

They both were wearing red and white, which I'd noticed earlier but had thought nothing about. It now seems to be their “thing.”

I first saw meg, all smiles and adorning a kick-ass pair of coca-cola pants. Now Jack, what appeared to be a simple white shirt and bright red pair pants, was so striking. Maybe it was the bright lights, or perhaps he was just strikingly handsome, and I was using the clothes as an excuse. Either way, his face read that he was ready to do anything. Very sharp, very focused, and all the while looked prepared for anything.

Harriet elbowed me and quietly said, “Quite the blues band they are.”

“Oh, hush up Harry, let them have their fun.”

Then played his guitar, no introduction words, no hello. He’s straight to the point.

While their whole look was one of grandeur, which was impressive for such a small band, what truly caught me off guard was their cover of “Moonage daydream” by none other than David Bowie.

An already hard enough to cover song by any professional band. They somehow did it, and well too. They were keeping that Detroit garage sound and Bowie’s twang still in it.

Said assholes from before had a tape recorder in their hand, already recording their set.

Ezra spoke up.

“Sounds like a weirdo.”

“Not everyone is gifted with vocal chords as good as mine, Z.” Harriet said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You guys need to learn show etiquette, lordy.”

They all eventually shut up, though, and started to get into it, Including me.

Throughout the energetic set, we started to realize how close our music was. Full of blues and heavy sound. The way they played with each other was just like how we did. They even had an overexcited frontman who ran the show.

Two things were for sure. He was incredibly talented, as much as he was attractive. Maybe Harriet was right with the whole rebound thing.

By the second song, we all were dancing with the music. Jumping along to the sparse chords of “Screwdriver,” every time he played the three magic chords, we all hopped in unison.

By “Let’s shake hands,” we all had been dragged into the mosh. All laughing our asses off and picking up any fallen comrades in the process. Harriet got a pretty gnarly bruise from that one.

Long story short is that we all were having way too much fun.

There was this slow song, though, gave the two of them more room to look around and see the crowd. They both were both so invested in their playing that they’d hardly looked past the stage.

Everyone in the crowd was just as enamored with watching them.

I caught a particular man’s eye. Just as he had mine earlier. Every time he'd sing he'd look up at me. Eyes filled with something completely different. They weren’t pissed off. They weren’t dark and brooding. He was just watching me, and he seemed so invested in it too. Maybe it was narcissism, but they almost seemed lustful? As dumb and cliche as it sounds, I saw it. The way he looked at me was with genuine interest. I, of course, returned it.

While I also had his gaze, I felt two more eyes on me. Which was, of course, was Harriet, noticing what was happening. Giving me the same dumb eyebrow wiggle as before.

I returned my gaze to the stage. Sadly our exchange of glances had ended, hed turned his back to the crowd to grab another guitar that was just laying on the ground. On the back of his shirt was a crudely written setlist with song names like “Bob Coffee” and “Sugar good.” Which I can only assume (And hope) are abbreviations.

For the last song of the set, they played an incredibly upbeat slide song. Which I much appreciated, no one used a slide anymore.

He gave an incredible performance and an even better solo(s) with the small piece of brass on his finger.

Once they finished, they quickly made their way off the stage, and we did the same, bouncing through the sea of people to grab another beer from our shared van.

“All I’m saying, Z. Is that if Timbuktu were real. Why have I never met anyone who's been?” said Harriet nursing her billionth beer.

“I swear to god you’re losing brain cells, Harry. Go check a fucking map.” Argued back Jo

“Josephine. That does not convince me of anything. It’s in all the stories! Take me to god damn Timbuktu, and i'll believe you.”

Jo groaned and threw her head into her hands. “Okay, firstly, my name isn’t even Josephine, it's Jolene, You know this. Secondly, you’re a lost cause.”

I grabbed my cigs, done listening to their dumb argument, And made my way to the back alley behind the venue.

As I came upon it, I saw tonight's man of the hour. Leaning against the broken wall of the venue, cigarette already in hand.

I had half a mind to turn around out of spite for Harriet’s sake, but was too far gone,

“Well, hey there, stranger.” I said jokingly, breaking the silence of the night.

He looked up, not startled by the noise. He didn’t seem bothered by the company either.

“Well, hey yourself.”

I took a spot next to him and grabbed a cig out of the pack, tapping the top of the box on my hand before. Almost instinctively, he was ready with his lighter. Id leaned in and breathed it in,

locking eyes with him in such close contact. Both of us Making the same eyes as before.

“Quite the show you played tonight.” I said after taking a long drag from my cig, he repeated the

action.

“Likewise,” he took another drag. “I'd have half a mind to think you’re copying us.” He said with a wink.

“Likewise.” I mimicked, wink included.

We both couldn’t seem to look at each other, eyes locked on the dark horizon. You know, that awkward stage of knowing somebody, but prolonged eye contact was just a no go.

“I haven’t seen you around here, and you have a face I wouldn’t forget. You passing through?” He asked

I gave a small laugh, “No, actually just moved here. Just me and the girls now. Taking over the southwest side.”

“No shit, huh? It seems we share a postal code.” He looked over to me with a small smile on his face.

“No shit. What street?” I asked, my excitement way too present.

“Ferdinand. Small shitty house, porch painted white and red. You can’t miss it.” He finished his cig, quickly grabbing another.

“Oh, I remember that! It was the first thing we noticed when we got here. But you’re a block over neighbor.” I bumped his arm, returning his small smile.

We went silent for a moment, just looking over the Detroit skyline, still in the stages of not knowing how to start conversations.

“So tell me, stranger. I want to get to the bottom of this mystery of our shared music. Who are your influences?” I asked, taking another drag and entirely putting my attention on him.

He laughed and put out his cig, stomping it into the ground.

“Well, it’s the blues. You know Son House and muddy waters. That and Iggy Pop.”

“Well, there’s the correlation. The same goes for me. Though I am more privy towards Taj Mahal and Howlin wolf Myself.” I stomped out my cig as well.

“You’re dad listen to them all the time?” He asked

“Oh, all the time.” I moved a little closer, not enough that he’d notice, but enough. “But country rules my house. It's law in Tennessee, you know.” I said, a small smirk falling on my face.

“More the reason to go then.”

I very dramatically rolled my eyes. “Eh, more the reason to leave you mean.”

He fake scoffed, covering his heart with his hand. “Are you telling me you don’t like country? Judging by your dad’s taste, it’s probably the good country you don’t like too.”

“Overplayed and over appreciated is what I always say.”

He moved closer, just as I did, and his goofy smirk grew. “You’re telling me you don’t like johnny cash?” He asked.

“Not a bit.” I crossed my arms matter of factly.

While we were in an “Argument,” I couldn’t stop thinking about Harriet’s words. Rebound. Plus his whole damn family wasn’t here to watch me shamelessly flirt.

“But I’m open to a certain handsome stranger changing my mind.”

He was unphased. In fact, it only made his smile grow.

“Well, I’ll just have to do that, Rosie.”

“Hm. Rosie. I like that.” I said, moving even closer to him. Were less than a foot away from each other’s face, and Though I exchanged so little words with this man, I was ready to kiss the hell out of him.

“Though I’m only going to let you call me that because you’re acting so nice. You know, lighting my cigs and all. Very gentleman like of you.”

“I aim to please, Rosie.” He said simply. He drifted even closer.

I could feel his hot breath on my face. My heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn’t stop my actions if I tried.

I pushed forwards and met my lips with his. My already booming heart felt like it was about to explode. Why Was I so nervous? Guess I half expected him to pull away.

He didn’t, though, in fact, his hand came up and cradled my face, and his other made its way to my hip. Pressing me against the brick.

Our bodies pressed together heatedly against the wall, us breathing heavily as our lips pressed together, heat radiating off the both of us. I could taste our shared breath, prominently cigarettes; I could feel the thud of our combined heartbeat as we fumbled to put our hands wherever we could. Both us acting like it was the one thing keeping us alive.

Everything about him was dizzying, the way his hands gripped me like his life depended on it, how passionately he was kissing me despite how soft lips were. It made my stomach dance; it made warmth consume me.

I so desperately held onto him, my hands finally settling around his neck, nustling into his long unruly hair. It scared me how much I felt that I needed that. How addictive he felt.

From the van and out of sight, I could hear the girls asking where I was. I slowly broke away from our kiss, not wanting to be found out by the others. Not yet. I wasn’t ready for their incessant grade school teasing.

We stayed close, still in each other’s arms. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. Not wanting to let go. Still hungry for his touch.

“I think I have to get the drunk children home.” I said with a sigh.

“It’s the responsible thing to do.” He said with a goofy smile.

I kissed him again, this time just being a small peck. It was still just as good.

I moved out of his grasp and went to grab a cig. He was ready with the lighter.

“Well, Rosie, if you ever want to..” His face tinted pink. “Jam. We will say jam. You know where I live.”

“I might just have to take you up on that offer.”

“Well, See you around, stranger.” I said with a wink.

“See ya around, Rosie.” He leaned against the wall and repeated my actions.

Turning around, I made my exit, cooly of course, but my whole body was buzzing.

Quick End notes:

Firstly, ooh that smooch. This series is not what you guys think this will be. This is only the beginning. And i mean it really is just the beginning, but chapter two.

Secondly, If you didnt catch it this is set in 1998. And unfortunately while in my planning, I didnt catch that he had the worst fucking haircut ive ever seen that year. So Im just gonna pretend he looks 2000 era jack white. (see below for a visual of what is and what should have been)

What is

What should have been

#jack white #jack white fic #if i can be so bold #the white stripes #jack white x oc #nosferatyou writes #series #meg white #ben blackwell #nashville #detroit #jack white x reader

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reverseopossum · 4 years

Text

Drunk Histories

(A decontextualized chapter from something I’m writing)

Nina’s forgotten that I don’t drink, and offered to get drunk with me. I appreciate the spirit of the offer enough that I don’t reject it. She and Ava and I sit at their kitchen table, an overturned ultralight shipping crate, and Nina steadfastly holds up her end of the offer.

Martian alcohol is pretty much straight distilled ethanol. You have to mix it, otherwise there’s a solid chance that your body will refuse to swallow it and you’ll aspirate pure alcohol, which is Double Plus Ungood. Ava brings out some powdered orange juice she’s been saving and mixes it in what I assume to be a sensible proportion. A variant on a screwdriver, we decide. A new, truly Martian drink, the Screw You Driver. I sip mine, which makes Nina laugh whenever she notices. I’m still on my first when she’s on her fourth. She catches me counting and Ava inching the pitcher further away, and says that watching me watch my country slide into fascism is stressing her out.

“It’s not just my country,” I say. “Haven’t you heard? They’re claiming ownership of Mars now. Citing the American people’s financial contribution under the old government. They’re demanding sole access to our data, control over our media and mail, and that we stop criticizing them. Apparently you’re all Americans now.”

“Should we be worried about that?” Ava asks. She does sound genuinely concerned, even appalled, but it’s the kind of concern you would have on hearing that a friend’s druggie uncle was arrested for peeing on the mailman. The claim is ridiculous, and probably impossible to enforce.

“What are they going to do?” I ask. “Bully the space nerds? Steal our lunch money?”

“It’s not like they’re going to send an invading force,” Nina says. “But they could stop us from getting supplies, couldn’t they? They own the space elevator.”

“I thought China was almost done building one,” I say.

“They were,” Nina says. “But then it took damage from some stray debris, and the war distracted them from fixing it.”

Well, shit.

“Good thing we grow food here,” Ava says, shrugging. In the pause that follows, I can feel her calculating what she would have to do to sustain all of us. Tear out the new trees and plant lots of potatoes instead, replace some of the air purifying plants with edible varieties, maybe task us with keeping some plants alive in our living quarters. Keep the tilapia tanks more crowded. Send a surface party for ice to supply the extra water. Do all that and ration calories to a bare minimum, and we might get by until the new dome is ready, if we abandon most of our research to free up labor for construction. We may or may not have to eat the lab mice.

Otherwise, our only real hope is that some other country will go to the unthinkable expense of a massive supply launch sans space elevator. That’s to say nothing of all the sides of Martian life I know nothing about: replacement parts for air recyclers, radiation shielding, and climate control. Without supplies, we can only survive if nothing breaks. It’s optimistic at best, laughable at worst. But it’s improbable that the new American regime would actually cut us off from using the elevator. Not when it would anger every country in the world simultaneously, and when we’re such a valuable symbol.

“We should have a Martian Congressional Congress and declare independence,” Nina says with drunken conviction.

“Congressional Congress, Doctor?” Ava asks. (As a rule, Martians call each other Doctor or Professor only in dire sarcasm.)

“As an act of rebellion,” Nina says. “That’s what the old Americans did. Right, Jonah? Back when they had powdered wigs and shit?”

“Continental Congress,” I say, laughing in spite of myself. “For us, it would be a Planetary Congress. And if we’re going to declare independence, we should do it right. Who has really pretty handwriting?”

“Hang on,” Ava says. “This is my moment to shine.”

She darts into her bedroom and brings back, of all things, an expensive-looking calligraphy pen, a brand new ink cartridge, and a pad of thick creamy paper. “I told you I have the randomest hobbies,” she says, loading the pen. Nina and I stare in rapt attention as she writes the biggest, fanciest F and underlines it with an elaborate flourish.

Fuck you, she writes in enormous flowery script. She thinks a moment, and adds beneath it, Love, Mars.

“Well, folks, there it is,” I say. “We’re a country now. And the national anthem is Space Oddity.”

“Can I design the flag, too?” Ava asks, taking out her personal screen.

“Knock yourself out.”

The result is a tiny white rocket launching against a field of dusky blue. The plume beneath the rocket is vivid orange-red, and shaped like an enormous fist with an upturned middle finger.

“The blue represents wisdom, rationality, and an eye turned toward the infinite,” Ava deadpans.

“Red is for lust,” Nina announces. “With which, we assume, humanity will procreate among the stars.”

“Red is for Mars, dumbass.”

“How far can you zoom in?” I ask. “I’m thinking since it’s a digital drawing, you could add a little person in the rocket flipping the bird. Then people find it if they zoom in.”

“Or what about mooning them?” Nina asks.

“Dude,” Ava says. “And then if you zoom in further…”

“Um…”

“Not on the ass! I’m thinking he’s kind of looking over his shoulder, and if you zoom in on the face, you can see the other new flag everyone’s talking about reflected in his eyes. So they know who it’s meant for.”

“That’s too heavy-handed with the symbolism,” I say.

“Then why did your old government put the Illuminati on money?”

“That’s… you know what, that’s a fair point.”

“No pledge of ‘llegiance, though, ‘cause it’s creepy,” Nina says, slurring slightly. The drinks are catching up with her.

“We need a national bird,” Ava says. “Everyone has an eagle or some shit.”

“Ben Franklin thought it should be a turkey,” I say.

Nina blows a raspberry and points both thumbs down. “No turkeys on Mars,” she says.

“A lab mouse with mechanical wings?” Ava suggests.

“Guys,” I say. “I’ve got it. A spherical bird in a vacuum.”

“Beautiful,” Ava says. “Majestic. I’ll start drawing it. What about a national motto to put underneath it?”

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Nina says.

“You don’t need a doctorate to come up with this shit,” I say.

“No,” Nina says, “that’s the motto.”

We hang the Declaration of Independence on the sample fridge in the neuro lab, and Nina makes the seal with the spherical bird her home screen. Someday we’ll be independent, but for now it’s impossible. For now, it’s a joke.

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Note

Destiel - my shower isn’t working can I use yours 😆

Okay, so where I'm going with this one isn't exactly a meetcute to me, but it also could be, if you are into that kind of stuff, I'm not sure about most things, please enjoy the story ~

***

It's been one hour since Dean's gotten up, and the day already sucks.

Things had been fine till all the noise started. It was eleven, on a Sunday morning, and he had been contentedly sitting on his couch, watching Queer Eye as he had his breakfast of milk, cereal and beer, as one does, and wondering about Sammy's whereabouts, even while he prepared punny punchlines for the latter's inevitable walk of shame - when the drilling had begun.

And Dean didn't like disturbing loud noises - not so early on weekends, and not ever.

Obviously some sort of construction work, or maintenance was happening at the apartment across the hall from his. Dean's brain registered it immediately as the one with the ridiculously cute Lit. Major, Cas-something, and his friend (well, Dean hoped, though they did seem pretty close).

Dean didn't know those two very well, because they'd only just moved in like a month ago - which could've made the drilling sorta suspicion-worthy, if their apartment building had had any good reputation at all. Dean had had his midterms then, so he hadn't gotten to know them much - though Sam had told him, from when he went to the mixer they threw like a fortnight ago, that they seemed like good people.

Dean's interactions had thus been pretty limited with Cas - Sam had only remembered that much of his name, for the stupid giant head he has, and Dean couldn't even be sure that it was correct, they'd never conversed so he'd never had a chance to use it - but that's what he calls him when he thinks of him in his head.

And he does. He knows Cas studies Literature, because he's seen him with Professor Moseley. And he knows Cas liked honey, because his friend, Balthazar had come to ask if they had any, because 'his roommate needed it, and was too anxious to initiate social interactions', Dean remembers, in a sarcastic accented drawl. And he knows that Cas runs in the mornings, and that he -

There's a knock at his door, which brings him out of his reverie. He sets down his tray, and went to open the door, expecting Sam - silently regretting using some of the last minutes thinking about his gorgeous neighbors, instead of what all he'd say to get Sam all riled up, when he showed up in last evening's clothes.

But it isn't Sam. It's Cas - or, to play on the safer side, Dean was going to pretend he didn't know his name at all; that would be better than to call him by the wrong name because what kind of asshole does that?

"Hello!" From the other side of the door, Cas - or whatever the fuck his name is, Dean keeps calling him Cas, because he has been doing it in his head, for a month now - breathes out, in a beautiful goddamn baritone. He's looking straight at Dean with unbelievably blue eyes, and Dean's never stood this close to him, in actual reality before.

So, undoubtedly, he is too busy gawking at Cas, to respond to the greeting - but he can't be blamed. Cas is breathless, and sweaty - from the way his fitted grey tshirt sticks to all the right places, and how sweat glistens on his forehead and plasters his black hair to his head. If Dean had ever been able to get Sam's nagging, 'You're confusing reality with porn again' out of his head, his brain could've conjured up some really interesting scenarios.

He stands in front of Dean, dressed in only a tshirt and what are clearly running shorts, and suddenly Dean's aware of the fact that he's wearing flannel pajamas, which are also Sam's, if that isn't embarrassing enough by itself - since he didn't wanna do laundry, and which are hatefully too big for him - a white shirt that has Donald Duck on it, and his fucking heart on his sleeve.

"Uh." He begins, eloquent as ever. "Hey there."

"Do you," Cas's lips twist into some sort of a frown. "Think I could come inside?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." Dean mutters, making way for him to enter. The passage is wide enough for there to be zero contact between them, as Cas shuffles inside and Dean reaches forward to shut the door and lock it behind him - and for the first time, Dean wishes he lived in a skimpier apartment. "What's up, dude?" Dean asks, trying to get a hold of himself, as he stares at Cas tentatively, waiting for him to make the next move, as he tries to figure out how to keep looking at him before coming off as creepy. As one does.

"I - well, I -" He begins, and then stops abruptly, holding his hand out to Dean. "I'm Castiel, by the way, and I live across you."

Dean nods, wetting his lips, as he shook his hand. "I, uh, know." He says, uncertainly. And then realizing he hasn't introduced himself either, he hurriedly adds. "And I'm Dean. I live across you, too."

Castiel smiles at him, in spite of the lame joke, and Dean is grateful, because he was about to start looking for a hole to bury himself in. Then, Castiel starts speaking too, and Dean shifts his focus between his words and the way his voice sounds, to keep up. "As I guess you've probably heard, Balthazar is getting some repairs done at our place. I didn't know it was today until right about now, but this thing might take time. Shelves to be made, showers to be fixed, fire alarms which actually work to be installed -" Dean snorts at that, then is instantly appalled at himself, because that's the most unattractive way he could laugh, fucking get your act together, Winchester. "And so on. I'm sorry on both our behalf, because the noise must be disturbing, and -"

"Nah, nevermind." Dean interrupts. "It's not a big deal." What else is he supposed to say? 'I wanna kill myself because of it, so please don't need a new shelf, ever again?' Pfft.

"You're very understanding," Castiel smiles once again, and it's a polite one - and Dean is suddenly hit by the realization that that is perhaps what Castiel is here for. To be polite and curtesical about the fact that they're disturbing the whole building. Not because he wants to have anything to do with Dean - perhaps he did this with everyone on all the floors, and gave compensation-cookies, but then ran out of them before he came to Dean, but didn't think Dean was worth that much of an effort.

Dean's subconscious does make an effort to put a pause to the annoying workings of his mind, but as always, the other side triumphed. And then Dean stands there, feeling ridiculous about himself having internally made such a big deal of something like this.

But then, Castiel start speaking again. "And, I know this is such an idiotic favor to ask for -" So there is more, thinks Dean. "And you are allowed to turn me down, okay?"

"Ask away, dude," Dean tells him. I'd literally bend over on the centerpiece for you, if you asked nicely, he doesn't say, because. Well. Boundaries and crap.

Castiel seems to be gathering his words.

Dean wonders what it could be.

He hasn't wondered far, when Castiel finally lets it out. "I - I just came from my run, and I really think I need to shower. And my shower isn't working, could I use yours?"

Dean is stunned. He didn't think things like this we're supposed to happen in actual frigging reality. Castiel - the totally hot dude from across the hallway was asking to take a shower in his apartment. Dean's brain was practically stuttering, at this point.

"Dean?" Castiel echoes.

Dean's brain goes around the roundabout, and starts to take the route back to a safer place. It's obviously not like Castiel is going to be in the shower, and then asking Dean to join. That, now that would be something that would honestly throw him off. But this is cool, right? The guy has a reason. (And no porn has such legitimate explanations, okay?) So perhaps Dean should go looking for his brain in the gutters, and respond.

"Yeah. Uh, sorry about that." He shrugs, and then nods. "You know what? Sure. You can. I mean, why would I say no, you know?"

Castiel blinked at him. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Dean nods, way surer now that Castiel looks insecure of ever asking. And Castiel gives him a small smile. "Thank you."

A moment passes, and they're simply looking at each other, and Dean is obviously trying to alternate gazes between his eyes, and his lips. Then suddenly, Castiel clears his throat, and raises his eyebrows with a slight tilt of his head and Dean returns to the present.

"Right!" He swallows. "Right now. Okay, yeah, okay." He doesn't really know what to do for a moment there, but then he looks at Castiel, who's sporting an absolutely adorable gummy smile.

"You do know you don't have to do anything, right?" He supplies, somehow reading the tension in his body. "Just, uh, direct me towards your bathroom, please."

And Dean's brain stops short on the verge of short-circuiting - he doesn't know why, okay!? - and he just nods. "Yeah, uh. Sure. That's smart. It's this way."

When Dean has shown Castiel to the bathroom - the one attached to his bedroom, and not Sam's - he instantly fetches a towel for him, too. Kind of a 'I'm not always as slow as I just was in the living room' gesture, and Castiel accepts it with a smile. "Thank you, again."

"It's not an issue, seriously," Dean promises, still hovering, even though he's shown Castiel to the bathroom and handed him the best towel he owns. "Oh, right." Dean suddenly steps into the bathroom, remembering - Castiel follows him in, like he's obviously supposed to, but now it's just the two of them in that confined white-tiled space, and Dean's mouth feels dry. "About the, uh, thingy? Contrary to what you may infer from the symbols, left is hot, and right is cold. We actually installed it wrong."

"Oh," Castiel takes it easily. "Thank you for telling me that."

"Yeah." Dean checks himself, and then the space around him, and is sure he's done all he can do - to help Castiel, to embarrass himself, etcetera - and he takes his leave. "I'll, uh, go now. Enjoy, I guess."

And he hears a bit of a chuckle behind him, as he practically rushes out of his bedroom and back to the living room, where he sits with his legs folded on the couch, and screws his eyes shut - trying to focus all his energy on going back to a happier timr, where he hadn't said 'enjoy' to Castiel, before leaving him in a fucking bathroom.

Dean tries to not think about it - he really does. He tries not to listen to Cas showering, and tries not to hear Castiel's almost-mute (maybe non-existent) humming, and he tries so frigging hard to not imagine a very naked Castiel in his shower. Or what he might be doing, and - OH, that is another level of gross, even for him.

And because the world is so fair to him, he manages to stop thinking about it - for one goddamn moment, before he's now thinking of worse things. Like all the kinds of things there are in his bathroom. Fuck, there's probably some gross hair in the drain from when he shampooed a few days earlier. There's that one crack in the tiles, where Dean had fallen - one very, very complicated afternoon. And, Jesus fucking Christ, there was lube on some rack somewhere.

As Dean sits on the couch by himself, regretting all of his life choices all at once, and wondering how much easier it would be if he flees to Alaska for the rest of the time Castiel is at Stanford - he tries to tune out the sounds of the water to the backdrop of Queer Eye - and all the drilling, obviously, but he still notices when the water is turned off.

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, if he's being honest, but it feels a lot longer. Sighing, Dean throws his head back against the couch, and rubs the palms of his hands against his eyes -

And that's when Castiel yells for him.

Dean is thrown off at first, but then he's rushing, because why the hell would Castiel be asking for him now - when he's clearly just finished showering - if it wasn't something important.

So Dean crosses the living room with large steps, and is going into his bedroom when he sees Castiel, standing in the doorway of the bathroom - completely naked, except for the towel around his waist.

If Dean had thought he'd been having trouble looking away before, well, he certainly had no chance against this. Castiel's arms were a feast for his eyes - his fucking biceps would've been as big as Dean's, easily. His entire torso was lean and muscled, and his shoulders combined with his pecs were something that would certainly feed Dean's fantasies for a long, long time. And all the running had certainly paid off, because he had these beautiful fucking calves, and all his -

Shit. Dean is extremely not okay, when it comes to this guy. He needs to stop.

"Dean." Castiel's voice hits him with a jolt, and Dean's eyes turn up to Castiel's - wishing with all his heart, that he had not caught him checking him out. "I'm so sorry."

"What?" He blinks. What had he done? Wait, did he somehow break his shower, because Dean kind of had feelings for that shit.

"I need to ask another favor of you," Castiel looks truly apologetic, like it pains him as much to be asking Dean to do this - as it pains Dean to not go back to staring at him. "And this one is all sorts of dumb, but I -"

"What do you need?" Dean cuts him off; the apologising routine was cumbersome.

"My clothes, from my apartment. Mine are drenched from the run." He emphasizes. "And I was about to go get a towel and a change of clothes before, but then you handed me that towel, and I was too distracted - I mean, I wasn't thinking of it then, and Dean - I obviously need clothes." With his jaw fucking dropped, Dean waits for him to finish. "And I don't think I should go into my apartment like this," He looks down at himself. "There's other people working there."

Some part of Dean wants to hang onto the part, which hints that Castiel is fine being this way in front of Dean - but not in front of those workers, but then he instantly realizes that's dumb and nothing romantic at all. There is no comparison.

"Dean." And now, he's giving him a full on puppy stare. Sam-level. "Would you please -"

"Wait." Dean hears himself speaking, though he's almost sure he's not thinking those things through. "That's not smart. I wouldn't know where your stuff is, and I'm not going to pick out pants and shirts for you. It would be easier if you just wore something of mine. We're basically the same size." And this time, Dean has somewhat of an excuse to space another glance to Castiel's naked upper-body.

"But," Castiel looks like he might try to protest, but then he doesn't. "I do think that is the smarter option. I just hope you don't mind."

It's better than me playing dress-up on you, Dean thinks. 'There's no way I'd survive looking at your wardrobe, even.' But he keeps it to himself. "I don't. You can, uh." He leans in and slides open one door. "Pick anything from here."

"Okay." Castiel swallows. "Thank you, Dean."

"Yeah." And it comes out a little bit strangled, because now Dean has another thing that makes him feel suffocated, but in all the best ways. Castiel, in his clothes. And also because he's still staring at him, a little bit.

"Thank you for everything, Dean." Castiel sighs, and Dean - for a fleeting second - imagines that he's gonna get a hug but then it's like they both remember in the same instant that Castiel doesn't have clothes on.

Now that would've been a surefire way for Dean to have finally gotten the attack he's been on the verge of, since the moment there was a knock on his door.

Almost an hour later, Sam stumbles back in. He might be in last night's clothes, but he looks tardy in the 'all-night-group-study' sense, and not the fun sense - and Dean wouldn't put it past his geek of a brother.

But Sam comes in to find Dean has a guest over from across the hallway - and the-Cas-guy is wearing Dean's AC/DC shirt (or maybe Sam's just sleepy) and they're having grilled cheese while sitting too close on the couch, as they watch Queer Eye.

(Dean fills him in later, that because Dean had kinda helped Cas out that day, he says with a bit of a blush, Cas had offered to make him breakfast to repay him; but Sam knows that's Dean's cereal bowl in the sink, but he can easily imagine how Dean must have leaped at the the offer of a second breakfast, as long as Cas, the cute guy Dean hundred-percent has a crush on, offered to make it - and in turn, stayed some more.)

***

I'm finally back to destiel! It took me a while ;) but I found my way back ~ this was so fun to write, and I almost lost my draft for a bit there and then it came back and I was like, THIS ISN'T SAFE IN QUEUE, POST IMMEDIATELY (≧∇≦) Anyways, thank you @petrichoravellichor for the prompt! I keep thinking, I'll do the cookie fic next, and there's this huge hype around it, and then I think that maybe I'm not ready yet and I start creating something else Ψ(￣▽￣)Ψ The next is gonna be Sabriel, I think!

This time, I'll just tag the list as it is, because it's destiel: @ctrl-alt-design @emmii4 @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @noemithenephilim @galaxy-charm @trenchcoatsandfreckles @naitia @ladywaywarddsc @zoerayne2426 @thekidsmaybealright @hellfire37 @3dg310rdsupreme @impulsivedandelion @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect List is Open! Send me messages, I guess, if you wanna be added/removed.

That's all for today! Maybe leave me a comment to gush about. Hope you all have an amazing day ~ Keep it sailing ~

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