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rendevousz · 3 years

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freak

avengers x teen!fem!reader

summary: you get captured during a mission and the team saves you.

warnings: language, violence, brief misogyny, torture, **NO sexual assault (because as i was proofreading, i only implied most of the torture scenes because i didn't want to write it in graphic detail and i realised the vague wordings might be misinterpreted as sexual assault which IT IS NOT, just clearing it up), and also again, my inability to write good endings

word count: 4589

notes: i just rewatched iron man 2 so that explains justin hammer LMAO also ooc justin hammer because even tho mans evil, he gets extremely um.. cruel here but anyways i hope you enjoy this!!

you were 13 when you first met the avengers and 16 when you officially joined. you grew up as one of HYDRA's experimented children and the team had found you when they raided the base that you were in.

a small, sickly-looking kid you were, sat against your cell wall, hugging your knees. 13 but you could probably pass off as a 10 year old due to how malnourished and miserable you were. burying your head in between your knees, you covered your ears as the loud gunshot noises filled the whole place. the metal door of your cell slamming open against the wall had you whimpering, hands above your head in fear.

every time the door slammed open, guards would come drag you out for more experiments so it was an instinct for you to cower in fear at the sound.

"last room in the west hall, i found a little girl."

you heard nothing because you were covering your ears, preparing yourself to be forcefully dragged by the guards to the experiment room. but it never came.

"hey," a soft voice called. you were violently shaking at this point, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. "hey, it's okay." the voice called out again and you felt them touch your shoulders.

your head immediately jolted up, flinching away from the stranger's touch. your eyes met a blue pair as you backed away into the corner in fear. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to." the man apologised. you slowly looked up at him, observing him. he had on a full black outfit, a quiver of arrows slinging on his shoulder and he was holding onto a bow.

"don't be scared. i'm here to help," he states with his hands out, as if to calm you down. "that's what they all say." you hissed through gritted teeth and a tear-stained face, glaring at him even though that could've been a very wrong move had it been with an actual HYDRA guard.

despite the strange feeling of being safe around this man, you didn't let your guard down. that's exactly what those scientists said seven years ago. trusting kind-looking men got you into this hell you never thought you would ever escape from and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

"clint," a red-headed female, also in all black, entered through the open door of your cell with her pistol up. at the sight of the weapon, you broke your glare towards the man. your breathing quickened and you went back to your original position before the archer came; body pressed up against your knees and covering your ears with your palms.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll come! please don't use that on me again," you whimpered, voice muffled as your face was hidden against your knees. the woman freezes mid-walk, looking at her friend with a bewildered expression.

"nat! put that away!" clint whispered harshly, eyes glaring at the pistol in nat's hands. nat's jaw dropped in realisation, a small gasp leaving her lips as she immediately put away her weapon.

she slowly makes her way to you and clint puts his arm out before she could get closer. he looks at her with a worried expression as he shook his head, as if telling her that she can't get too close to you. nat nods understandingly, crouching down a distance from you.

"hey," she spoke softly. "i promise you that we're not here to hurt you." you kept your face hidden from her, still hugging your legs tightly. nat sighs before sitting down.

"here, let's introduce ourselves. i'm nat and this right here is clint." you hear her speak and when you slowly lifted up your head, you saw the both of them sitting down in front of you, seeming to have made themselves at home in your pathetic cell. "what's your name?"

name? you had never been able to use your name before. you always kept your own name deep in your heart despite no one ever using it, afraid you would forget it if you stopped thinking of it. the only name they ever called you here was 'number five'.

"y/n," you whispered, still doubtful about these people's intentions. you almost burst out crying when you said your name out loud. that was the first time you introduced yourself with your actual name and not the number you were given ever since you were captured.

nat must have noticed this because she immediately spoke up, trying to distract you from your consuming thoughts. "y/n...that's a pretty name for a pretty girl like you. how old are you, y/n?" she asks again.

you contemplated once more but decided it was fine. you knew you were probably going to regret trusting these two strangers but what could be worse than what HYDRA has been doing to you for years?

"13," you muttered, looking down at your lap. you were now timidly seated cross-legged, playing with the tattered hem of your shorts. you heard a small gasp from one of them and looked up to see clint with his jaw dropped.

the two adults were both thinking of the same thing. how could you be 13? you were so small and sickly-looking, they didn't even think you were older than ten, let alone an early teen.

"i know you're scared and you have all the reasons in the world to be, but i promise you, we're here to help. we'll get you out of here, only if you trust us. will you trust us?" nat says. your mind was conflicted. you were either going to finally get out of this hellhole or you were going to be taken somewhere even worse than here. but could anywhere really be worse than here?

you decided to take a leap of faith and trust these two strangers. that decision had to have been the best decision you've ever made in your life.

you were now 18, an official avenger and you had the most amazing family you could've ever asked for. they were a bit on the crazier side but could you really have a normal family when said family consisted of superheroes? but you weren't complaining. you loved these people.

they were the ones who took care of you when you thought you had no one. having been a HYDRA experiment, you had abilities the normal human didn't. said ability being shapeshifting and healing. that's why you became an avenger. your shapeshifting ability was essential during missions where you had to sneak in and you being able to heal others was crucial when medic wasn't able to be there on time.

you pretty much came along to every mission despite the adults saying you don't have to. you knew they were only doing that to protect you from dangers of all those missions but how could you not when you had such abilities? they'd be much better with you helping.

that was why you were here, in bulgaria, fighting alongside the team. well, just steve, nat, clint, bucky and tony.

justin hammer had managed to get his hands on a type of out-of-this-planet weapon that tony was also trying to retrieve, and he had big plans with it. hence why the avengers had to come where hammer had wrecked havoc in; sofia, bulgaria. he had upgraded his robots with the tech used for the stolen weapon.

with evil robots attacking the whole city, it felt like you were living the story that wanda told you of what happened in sokovia before you met the avengers.

an hour passed before all of the robots had finally been taken down and you all knew you had to get to hammer before he activates more robots to distract you guys and uses the weapon for bad things.

"tony, have you located hammer?" steve's voice sounded in your ear through the comms. you had just finished healing the nasty gash on clint's side, nat's cut on her forehead and the bruises all over bucky. you were feeling significantly weaker now, from the amount of healing you did. you stumbled slightly when you walked and bucky immediately held onto your arm. "doll, are you okay?"

"i'm fine, buck. nothing i haven't dealt with before," you told him, gently removing his grip on your arm, walking back to the quinjet.

"no, absolutely not. we are not sending y/n right into a death trap. she's not even strong enough right now, she just finished healing us."

you were all back at the compound now and planning a second attack on justin hammer.

"it's not a death trap, buck. and i know you're worried but she's the only choice we got. y/n, all you gotta do is sneak in as one of his henchmen and provide entrance for us. once we get in, we'll take all his guards down and get that weapon from hammer and we won't have to worry about his world domination plans anymore. it'll be over as soon as it starts and she'll be back safe with us. sound good, y/n/n?"

"yeah, sure." you agreed, already having a person in mind that you were going to change yourself to.

the plan had gone just as steve wanted and they managed to raid justin hammer's building, tony stealing the very item that could've aided in the massacre of millions. justin and his henchmen managed to escape the building before the avengers could catch them.

"well, that was anticlimactic," tony scoffs, already making his way to the quinjet. "but good job, y/n. you saved the day once again."

he expected to hear a laugh from you, like you usually did, being the only one who ever responds to him after missions. but instead he was met with silence. "kid?" still no answer.

"y/n, where are you?" steve panicked, finally realising that you were the only one who hasn't responded in a hot minute. "y/n/n, this isn't funny." he breathed out.

"she's...she's gone."

"well, well, well," a voice spoke right as you woke up from your slumber. you squinted, noticing that you were in some sort of dark room with only one light bulb right above you. "what do we have here?"

a figure walks right in the light and you could barely make out justin hammer's ugly face with how dizzy you felt. "if it isn't the little freak." he states condescendingly, smirking down at your helpless position, both wrists and ankles cuffed onto the metal chair you were sat on. you struggled against the restraints, trying to get free but to no avail.

your breathing quickened, your current vulnerable state reminding you of your later years in HYDRA. they had started off experimenting on you on a metal gurney but as you grew older, you realised that what they were doing to you was bad so you started fighting back. that ended you up on a metal restraint chair instead of the gurney, strapped to the chair with cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

this felt like deja vu. the same panic you felt, the same breathing difficulties, the same amount of effort put into trying to get out of the restraints. "you should know, princess, that that doesn't work." hammer chuckled, a fake pout on his lips as he crouched in front of you, a rough hand on your cheek. you instinctively jerked away from his touch, to which he paid no mind to because he had expected that. he then grabbed your chin harshly, turning your head up towards him. you glared at him.

"you think i didn't know what you did? snuck in as one of my men using your freaky powers? not to mention useless. imagine having powers but not being able to use them to even escape from mere humans," he laughs in your face, harshly letting go of your chin, throwing your head backwards. "you tell me where stark planned to bring the weapon and i'll let you pretty little thing go."

"no."

before you could even comprehend, his fist came flying at your face and your head dropped to the side at the impact. your left cheekbone was throbbing and you could already tell you were gonna have a black eye. despite the pain, it wasn't something you weren't used to. you were an avenger, after all. getting decked in the face was practically in the contract.

he grabbed your chin once again, pulling your head upwards to face him. "you're gonna tell me where it is or i'm gonna make you regret it."

you looked up at him with a bored look. he punched you again. and again. and again. until you could taste the blood on your tongue. "think you wanna tell me now, sweetheart?"

"never. not to someone like you."

the man seemed to get a kick out of beating you up because he punched you again in the face. your whole face was pretty much numb now and the metallic taste in your mouth intensified. you smirked at the man before you, chuckling darkly.

"sure, beat up the helpless girl. that's the only way you can beat me, right? when i'm all tied up? what a man,"

his hand was around your throat within a second and he forced you to look him in the eyes again. "sweetheart, you're a girl. tied or not, you're still weak. not even with that useless power of yours."

taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, you gathered as much bloody saliva in your mouth before spitting it in his face.

it was very much the wrong thing to do because after he wiped off his face, he left the room and two men came in, various tools in hand for their fun with you.

"stark! my buddy! how's it going?" justin hammer's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, where the avengers were having a meeting about your possible whereabouts.

"where is she?!" wanda growled, standing up abruptly.

"what ever do you mean?" hammer smirked, feigning innocence. "you know what we mean. where is she?" steve spoke authoritatively, trying to control his anger at the sight of the man's face.

"i'll tell you where your thing is if you tell me where my thing is." he smiled wickedly. this caused wanda to get angrier. "y/n is not a thing! and the weapon was never yours in the first place!" vision held onto her to calm her down and it worked because she sat back down, though still glaring at the screen.

"oh she's not a thing? seems like it to me, though." he smirked and the team frowned, not understanding what he meant until they heard screams and justin's smirk widening at the sound. what a sick bastard. "what are you doing to her?!" bucky screamed, knocking his chair back as he stood up.

"i don't know, you tell me." he chuckles, and the screen changes to the live footage of you in the restraint chair with the two men in the room.

you were no longer fighting back now, just sat limply with your head dropped to the side. the first hour with them, you had been fighting back like you did with justin, despite the restraints, but now entering the second hour, you were too exhausted for anything.

your left eye had been swollen shut, you could barely breathe through your nose, your cheeks were throbbing like hell and your bottom lip was busted. your head was the only thing that moved freely when hit so the men seemed to find satisfaction the most when they punched you in the face. though that didn't stop them from inflicting pain on other parts of you.

"let her go, she's just a kid!" sam exclaimed, his grip on the edge of the table tightening to control his anger. peter and wanda were crying looking at the awful state you were in, clint, tony and bruce were silent in shock, steve and bucky were getting increasingly angry as the abuse continued.

"are you going to tell us where stark is keeping the weapon or have you not gotten enough?" one of the two men was heard asking, pulling your hair back to make you look up at him. you look at with your half-opened right eye, breathing heavily. "my answer's never gonna change no matter how many times you ask."

he scoffs, stepping back before the other man swings a bat right at your stomach. the air was immediately knocked out of your lung. the men laughed as you coughed up blood profusely. this caused wanda to get more hysterical.

"well, looks like she wants more. i'll call back when she's had enough. toodles," he waves his fingers at the camera with a sinister smirk before abruptly ending the call.

the room went silent after the call, save for bucky and sam breathing heavily from the anger they felt. bucky then turned to steve, pain could be seen on his face. "you said she would be safe."

"i–i'm sorry, buck. i didn't know he was gonna take her with him." steve was still frozen in shock, the image of you on the chair now permanently ingrained in his brain. in everyone's brains actually.

"guys, gear up, he's in colorado."

all heads turned towards natasha and she looked back at them with a 'what?' expression. "you were tracking him down the whole time?"

"um, duh? now come on, gotta save our girl."

you awoke to a stinging sensation on your inner forearm. after your bloody coughing fit, they proceeded to beat you up again and you were knocked out then. now you were slowly regaining consciousness but you were starting to prefer being passed out. your whole body was in pain and the fact that you couldn't even move made it even worse.

"oh, lookie here. sleeping beauty is up." you were met once again with justin hammer's ugly face. he was sitting on a chair perpendicular to your left side. you couldn't wait to get out of here so you didn't have to keep seeing his face every time you woke up. your inner forearm was stinging even more now so you looked down at it. you gasped at the sight.

"how'd you like my artwork?" he chuckled at your reaction. there on your arm, obviously carved out with the bloody knife that the asshole was so proudly holding on to, was 'FREAK'. carved out big and bold. on your skin. "pretty fitting, eh? freak? because, you know, that's what you are."

the blood was seeping out through the cuts and it stung even more now that it had been exposed to the air. the asshole moved his chair to your other side. "what should i write on this arm?" he feigns a thinking expression, looking up thoughtfully with his thumb and pointer finger on his chin.

"please, i–i don't know where tony put it. i really don't." you cried, tears now flowing freely down your face without a shame.

he looks at you with amusement. "what is this? are you...are you giving up already? can't take anymore?" he smirks and you sigh, closing your eyes. you just awoke but you were exhausted. so, so exhausted.

he takes out his phone, the smirk now permanent on his ugly face. "stark! kid's finally had enough. wanna tell me where the weapon is now or do you want to find her body at the bottom of the ocean?"

you couldn't even be bothered to react to his statement. the pain all finally registered and you were tired. tired and in excruciating pain.

"kinda busy right now, can you call back later?" you could hear tony's voice sound from justin's phone and the man beside you laughed. "i see you don't care for the girl. what could possibly be more important than saving her?"

"i don't know, you tell me." a voice said from behind you two and before you knew it, hammer was knocked off the chair he was on. you weakly turned your head just in time to see a metal arm force hammer up onto his feet before wrapping around his neck. "don't you fucking touch her again."

"y/n!" you heard wanda's voice as she entered the room with peter. more tears flowed down your face at the sight of them, stinging when they rolled past the cuts on your face but that didn't matter. your family was finally here to save you.

you saw the red mist of wanda's powers surround your cuffs before they clicked open. "oh, bubs, i'm so sorry." she cried, both hands hovering around your face, hesitating to touch you in fear of hurting you. her eyes fell onto the words carved out onto your skin and her mouth fell open before covering it with her hand. "i'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner." peter's voice cracked and you could tell he was emotional.

"it's okay," you told them, giving them a small smile, the biggest one you could give in your current state.

tony, sam and steve entered the room to see bucky relentlessly beating up your captor and wanda and peter standing by you as you cried.

"cupcake, we're here now. don't cry, you're safe now." tony came closer and despite knowing that you were because your family was finally here, you couldn't help but let out all the pent up emotions you've kept throughout your time of captivity.

sam had a go at justin once bucky was done and steve had to physically pry them both off of the sick bastard so that nat could cuff him and bring him back to the jet.

"y/n/n, i'm so sorry. if i hadn't–"

"it's okay, stevie." you cut him off. truthfully, you only did so because you knew he was going to giving a long-winded explanation justifying his actions and your headache couldn't bear to hear lengthy sentences. but you also didn't think it was in any way his fault so he didn't deserve to be beating himself up for this. shit happens, anyway.

"let's get you out of here, doll." bucky says, cringing when he sees the blood on the floor of your chair, as well as on your clothes. he quickly reaches to lift you off the chair but stops when you let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. "doll, i'm so sorry! did i hurt you?!" bucky questions in panic.

"y–you didn't, they did. it...it hurts everywhere," you cried, feeling hopeless that you couldn't even bear being carried by someone, let alone get up by yourself. their hearts broke when you said that. you never really cried much in front of them and you were known to withstand pain well because of how much shit HYDRA put you in as well as your powers being healing, meaning you had a higher pain tolerance than most people.

"it's okay, bubs. i got you. let's get you home, alright?" wanda's calming voice broke you out of your breakdown and red mist surrounded your whole body, wanda moving you with her powers. you were thankful of that because it didn't cause any more pain to your body.

maybe hammer was right. maybe you are just a freak with useless powers. wanda floated you into the jet and she set you down on the bed. "y/n, oh my god!" clint cried out once he sees you. you looked much worse than you did on hammer's camera footage during the call an hour ago. "kid, i'm so sorry."

"clint, take the wheel. bruce doesn't have all the resources needed. she needs to be treated ASAP." nat tells her best friend and he nods, taking the wheel and immediately taking off once everyone had boarded.

you were laid on the bed, right eye slightly open as bruce examined you. exhaustion hit you like a truck and before you knew it, you blacked out.

"how is she, doc?"

"pretty banged up but y/n, as i already knew, is a strong girl. lots of internal bleeding, broken bones, bruises and scars but she'll be fine. you can check her file later if you want," doctor cho tells tony outside of your room. "it's fine, can we see her?" he asks on behalf of the whole team standing behind him.

"yeah, of course! she woke up five minutes ago. i'll be off now, call me or my team if you need anything." she bids goodbye and left the group of superheroes.

steve slowly opens the door and there you were in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "hey, y/n/n," he greets sheepishly, feeling as though he had interrupted your alone time of blankly staring at the ceiling. the team trailed in behind him and soon your bed was surrounded by the avengers.

"hi, cupcake."

you looked away from the ceiling and turned your head towards tony. "oh, hey tones." you smile as sam helps you sit up while the rest sat on chairs all around you. "how you feeling, bub?" nat asks, eyes flickering down to the bold scarring of letters on your forearm.

"as okay as i can be." you answered truthfully, pressing your inner forearm closer to your body so the team doesn't see the letters carved onto your skin. you already know what you are, you didn't need the rest thinking so too.

"you're not a freak, bubs."

you look up at wanda. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to read your mind. but they were awfully loud. you're not a freak, y/n. and you're not useless too. that bastard may have carved out that word onto your skin but the scar will fade. it's not permanent. you know why? because that's not what you are." she tells you, taking off her jacket to wrap it around you because you felt self conscious of the scars all over your arms where the team could see.

"yeah, doll. you're an amazing person and your powers help us so much. i mean, you saved millions just helping us get the weapon back from justin hammer. if you hadn't, well, who knows what could've been happening right now?" he places a gentle hand at the side of your head, stroking your hair.

"yeah and who heals us when we get really hurt during missions, huh? i mean, if you hadn't healed that stab wound i got during that mission in new mexico, i probably wouldn't even be here at this moment." clint tells you and you roll your eyes at him. "you're exaggerating."

"i am not!" he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes once again.

"y/n/n, i'm really sorry for—"

"i don't wanna hear it, stevie."

"but–"

"no. it's not your fault. shit happens." you brush him off. "lang–"

"you say language to me, i'll blame this shit on you even when it's not your fault. try me, rogers." you glare at the blond super soldier. he raises his arms in surrender, leaning back on his chair as the team laughs.

the team continue to entertain you and you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you. these were the people who would drop anything for you and were willing to dropkick any asshole in the face for hurting you. justin hammer never had a chance against your family to begin with.

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gofancyninjaworld · 3 years

Text

OPM Manga Chapter 147 Review: Toxic

Story: Preview to a catastrophe

I’m going to do something a little unusual. Rather than give a summary of what happened, I’m going to save everything else that happens that for the meta and focus the story itself on just one thing. Garou’s return.

For a guy of many many words, Garou here is wordless, a creature of instinct, rage, and an unstoppable desire to put down any hero he encounters. Social niceties be damned.

no, Fubuki, you don’t belong in this battle

Bomb realises very quickly that this isn’t going to be a fight that he can afford to not engage fully with. He wastes no time unleashing his trademark long-range offensive move, although he’s no slouch in close- up fighting either. I love how the panel below superimposes several snapshots in time in a single image, as if the cameraman hasn’t enough time to separate the action into individual frames. It sells the speed and fury of the fight better than many blurry images. Also Murata is flexing on us with regards to his portrayal of fight choreography, he’s allowed. :)

For his own part, Garou flows effortlessly from conventional to unconventional in his fighting, bending improbably out of the way one moment, parrying in an orthodox manner the next. Eventually the seeming balance between the two breaks inexorably in Garou’s favour, leaving Bomb marvelling at the former’s incredible evolution.

Nothing for it, there’s no choice but to kill Garou if possible. Bomb hides a hand behind his back as he readies his iron-cutting fist one last time. It’s unfortunate that Garou has long since intuited how to do the same when he faced off against the Monster King, half a day ago ( I know, it’s been years for us), and does exactly the same, matching up timing and intensity perfectly with Bomb’s, thus cancelling it out.

Bang finally catches up to where the two are fighting to find his elder brother defeated.

Just as at the end of chapter 83, master and disciple face off. But the atmosphere between the two could not be more different, and the stakes are about as high as they could possibly get.

What new awakening will come from the next fight? Portents are dire.

Meta: Elsewhere

What doesn’t kill me has made a tactical mistake

For a story whose big schtick is that surviving what should have killed one makes one stronger, it’s surprising the amount and variety of mileage it gets out of that idea.

Making light of the idea, we have Genos literally rocketing back to his feet and casually dusting himself off after being smashed into a hole in the ground by Black Sperm. After being thrown into or through so many bits of masonry and earth, getting up with elan is nothing to him. Damn, he’s become tough! Awesome.

On the opposite side, making dark of the idea, we have Fuhrer Ugly, whose strength of hatred and rage is such that he keeps continuously reforming despite being continually digested by Gums’ digestive fluids... and has turned that into a new ability, able to melt anyone who touches him, kill with his spit, and reform after being cut. Terrifying.

And on the other other side, a perfect hypotenuse of awesome and terrifying, we have Garou. He has disinterred himself from the remains of the Monster Association base and while apparently fighting more by instinct than reason, his moves reprise everything he’s learned to date through his life-and-death fights with incredible fluency.

And of course, there’s Tank Top Master whose tank top seems to have magically preserved his life. I wonder what Fubuki has in mind for Pig God to do to help her help Tank Top Master.

Anyway, talking about serious injury...

Let’s talk about gore, baby

I’ve said before that I’m tired of all injuries accruing to either Genos or Zombieman and wanted some flesh-and-blood to be mangled. I don’t take that back: share the pain, baby!

But even for my evil heart, hoo, the brutal suddenness with which Fuhrer Ugly ended Zambai’s life was yikes! Heroes may never die, but those next to them have no such protection. I’m sorry man. You paid the highest price for supporting a hero.

Heroes may never die but that doesn’t mean they can’t suffer horribly. If Tank Top Master being turned into a human patty wasn’t grisly enough, finding out that SuperAlloy’s famously resistant shine isn’t chemically resistant is enough to give one a shudder of horror/disgust: his hands have been defleshed down to tendon and bone.

Never mind fear; it’s going to be a while before SuperAlloy *can* fight at all. And with his chest being burned as well, I think that he will be lucky not to come away with disfiguring scars. He might start wearing a shirt after this...

ONE, have some mercy for your heroes or half of them will never work again. But not too much mercy, they’ve had it too easy for too long.

There’s more to help than rescue

If you’d told me that this day would see Genos earning the trust and respect of the heroes he has called the bitch and the witch respectively, and that feeling would be mutual, I’d have told you to stop fantasising. I’ve spent enough words talking about the unexpected compassion he showed to Fubuki when the latter was beside herself with worry for her sister.

Tatsumaki has internalised the advice Blast gave her so thoroughly that she’s come to think herself as being beyond help. But there’s more to help than haplessly accepting rescue. Help can also be someone intervening only when you most need it, respecting that you can generally take care of yourself. Help can be sharing the burden, enabling you to achieve more, more easily. Help can be having your back so you can fight without fear of ambush. All of these forms of help Genos has provided to Tatsumaki from the moment the battle pitched high into the sky. And she’s had his back too. Seeing her consciously acknowledge that and lean into it was an amazing gift I didn’t know I needed.

from allies in name only to comrades-in-arms, what a fearsome pair! Gambatte!

Of course it can get worse

The heroes’ situation seems to be getting worse and worse. Their number is being whittled down to size: Tank Top Master is out for the count, Bang is tied up, Superalloy Darkshine is maimed, Atomic is out of his main weapon, Child Emperor is lost somewhere and Puri Puri is looking for him, Zombieman and Amai Mask are still pulling themselves together, and Tatsumaki and Genos are standing more by spite than strength.

On the other hand, the monsters aren’t out of monster by any means. There’s still lots of Black Sperm, Evil Natural Water is surely sloshing around somewhere, Vomited Furher Ugly is a pungent threat, and Homeless Emperor is watching proceedings with an amused eye. I called the monsters the sundew monsters for a reason -- they waste heroes by outlasting their efforts.

The standing heroes are going to need respite, or a diversion, or reinforcements pretty soon or they’re going to all die for real. Preferably all three. We’ll take two out of three.

Further notes: The Cyborg is Listening

The first thing Kuseno says to Genos when the latter comes back after a bruising encounter with a monster is ‘are you alright?’ That we know. The second thing has to be ‘did you bring me good data?’ Everything that happens to Genos, everything he touches, everything he sees, everything he hears, all that information is recorded for later recall and distillation into useable data. We’ve been admiring how capable and tough this new upgrade has proven to be. It’s all hard-won insights, built one on the other. Does that mean I’m discounting what Genos does? Hell no. It’s his extreme courage and willingness to step into the most hopeless situations that has enabled this valuable data to be gathered in the first place. And it’s his using these wonderful upgrades to push as hard as he can despite the risk that makes it worth Kuseno’s while to stay up late to craft them. Now I’m super-interested in finding out what new insights the pair will glean from today’s fighting.

...polite engineer for ‘fuck you’

Sure, like many serious things in One-Punch Man, it initially appears as a gag, but if you’ve not been paying attention to date, hear this: good data is like gold dust in this world. And people will kill for it. As we watch the dissipating contrails where Drive Knight was as he carries his precious samples home, don’t way you weren’t warned.

#OPM #manga #review #Garou #but not as we know him #the free fight between hero and monster gets ever more intense #despite their cooperation and numbers the heroes are getting the worst of it #this is a fight where everything changes panel to panel on all fronts

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lit-in-thy-heart · 3 years

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I'm so excited you've jouned in!!! 💕

You owe Merwaine some happiness after your VERY angsty episode analyses so I would love those two and Sleepy hug please!! 😍

@little-ligi i hope this makes up for the angst!!! thank you for sending a prompt and have merlin and gwaine falling asleep together when with the knights and arthur on a trip thing (unspecified) between s4 and s5 💕

once again, under the cut because this is the longest one yet...

Rearranging his cloak so it provided greater coverage from the brisk wind, Gwaine glanced over at the group who were gradually drifting off amongst the fallen foliage. Despite the undiluted thoughts that inevitably streamed through his head when on watch, Gwaine relished the uninterrupted opportunity to softly observe Merlin without having the eyes of the other knights on him. If he had an apple for every time one of them – usually Percival or Arthur, despite Elyan’s quiet requests for them to shut up – had called him out for supposedly undressing Merlin with his eyes, he would certainly have a bushel of them by now. Granted, Gwaine sometimes did have the habit of mentally undressing Merlin with his eyes when he looked at him, but more often than not the knight was simply gazing in wonder at how such a beautiful being had chosen to devote his life to Gwaine of all people.

Merlin had been out of his sight for the past couple of hours, having accompanied Elyan to retrieve firewood, but Gwaine knew that they were both exchanging new spells that they’d learnt over the past few weeks. Elyan had told Gwaine about his magic before Gwaine had even had his suspicions about Merlin confirmed. Or, rather, Gwaine had stumbled in on Elyan, when the call of nature had echoed in his head on the night they had first met, and had witnessed him throwing all five of Gwaine’s knives without touching a single one. Gwaine had been more bothered by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed that his knives were missing than by the fact that Elyan was a sorcerer. And then, several weeks later, after Merlin had confessed to Gwaine on the night they had found themselves in bed together after an evening in the tavern, Gwaine had told both Elyan and Merlin to meet him in the Darkling Woods, greeted them with the statement that they both had magic, and had left them to it. Although he forced his unwavering support onto Merlin at every given opportunity, Gwaine knew the value of having someone close who knew precisely the struggles being faced, and he was grateful that Merlin had that in Elyan, and vice versa.

With a smile, Gwaine’s gaze slid over to Merlin, cocooned in a blanket and laughing at some remark that Elyan had sleepily murmured, and he settled himself against a tree trunk, moving his eyes back to the space in front of him as he withdrew his sword and positioned it across torso, the point of the blade hovering dangerously close to his neck. It was probably best that he was keeping watch alone, so he wouldn’t get distracted by talking to someone – but it also meant that there was nobody to check him when his attention slid, as it always did, to Merlin. He squinted up at the sky, seeking out the moon. At least he wasn’t expected to keep watch all night. Not that there was much need. Perhaps it was somewhat of an invincibility complex but, ever since donning the cloak bearing Camelot’s emblem, Gwaine had felt untouchable. Almost. The cloak hadn’t made Lancelot untouchable. Setting his jaw, Gwaine took a deep breath and focused on the lazy wave of the leaves opposite, on the stars splattered across the deep canvas of the sky like a bloodstain, on the soft melody of the wind.

‘Come on, now, Gwaine, you know full well how hot you look when you hold a sword like that.’

Perhaps Gwaine, who had not noticed Merlin – Merlin, of all people – approach, had not been the best choice for watch. He looked up with the smile that always graced his lips whenever the warlock was near, eyes dropping with Merlin’s body as he settled himself next to him. ‘I am by no means opposed to making out right here, right now.’

To satiate his desire, Merlin scattered a trail of kisses along his hairline. ‘I don’t think the others would appreciate it.’

‘Mm, you’re probably right there,’ Gwaine murmured, his fingers tracing Merlin’s face. ‘And you should sleep.’

‘I’m okay.’

Gwaine’s hands found the shadowed purple beneath Merlin’s eyes and he fixed him with a look. ‘I know that you haven’t slept properly for the past two weeks. I can see it written all over your face.’

Scowling, Merlin pushed his hand away. ‘Well that’s rude.’

‘But not a lie.’

Expression softening, Merlin wrapped the blanket tighter around his body.‘That’s because you’ve been on night patrol for the past two weeks and haven’t slept next to me.’

‘I don’t enjoy it.’

‘No, but at least you get to talk to Elyan. I’m left alone with the ceiling and my thoughts, and you know how much I hate that.’ Realising how he sounded, Merlin leaned closer into Gwaine. ‘I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I know full well there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Just as Merlin knew that, Gwaine knew full well that he shouldn’t do what his arm had already started to do but, noticing Merlin’s poorly-concealed shivers, he set down his sword and drew Merlin in so the warlock was resting his head in Gwaine’s chest. Then, kissing the top of his head, Gwaine pushed him away as swiftly as he’d pulled him in. ‘Go to bed, love. If you fall asleep here then your neck will not be thanking you in the morning.’

Looking up, Merlin held his gaze for several moments. With a sigh, he lifted his head and kissed Gwaine on the mouth before reluctantly standing and stumbling back to the makeshift camp. Gwaine watched as he settled himself at a slight distance from the other knights and Arthur, his back turned. The flickering embers cast subtle shadows across Merlin’s back and Gwaine’s gaze remained turned towards him for several moments more before he forced his eyes to travel away from the warlock’s form. Gwaine didn’t need to see it to know how it moulded to his palms when they were alone.

When around other people, Merlin always seemed to skirt around Gwaine, always leaving at least several inches between their bodies, as if afraid of causing Gwaine to shatter as a mirage if he made even the slightest contact with his skin. Gwaine had started wearing gloves more frequently in the hopes that Merlin would be more liberal in brushing against him then, but it had all been to no avail. Then Gwaine had continued to wear gloves anyway, just so that his bare hands wouldn’t have the nerves numbed by grazing surfaces before they reached out for Merlin’s skin. The result was a warm tingle that, to some, would be more of a scald, but Gwaine savoured every moment that his skin was set alight by Merlin. Having a particular skill with fire spells also helped him not feel the agony of burning so much, too.

When they were alone, though, Merlin was the one to remove Gwaine’s gloves and, every time his fingers skimmed the bones in Gwaine’s hand, the knight had to focus so as not to release skittering flames in Merlin’s direction. There seemed to be a ritual with Merlin when they were alone. The warlock would gently draw the gloves from Gwaine’s skin, toss them to one side, and then dedicate a substantial amount of time to tracing the marks on the knight’s hands, no matter how many times his fingers had already followed the cellular paths that day.

First, he always looked for new scalds or burns, disregarding Gwaine’s protests that they didn’t hurt in the same way that their ancestors had when he had first started learning magic, skimming his fingers over the marks as if the touch formed a mental note to treat them at a later date. After assessing the damage, Merlin’s lips always trailed behind his touch, silently reassuring each of Gwaine’s imperfections that they were so wonderfully loved and successfully sending shivers up Gwaine’s spine. Though those shivers always were abruptly severed when Merlin’s touch made its way to the thick scar just below the fold of skin between his right thumb and forefinger. Merlin had never once pushed him for more information about his childhood amongst bandits, but there was always a part of Gwaine that worried Merlin would one day get sick of the sight of the small branded letter, not quite concealed by the path the knife had taken so long ago, and would abandon him to the abyss he had been lost in before meeting the warlock.

But that hadn’t happened yet.

After studying Gwaine’s hands, Merlin then moved to stripping him of his knighthood and it was a death that Gwaine would gladly watch again and again if it was at Merlin’s hands. The chainmail was cast aside, the cloak thrown over a chair, and the sword noisily skimmed the floor until Gwaine was stood in only a shirt and his trousers, equal to Merlin. The only armour Gwaine had ever wanted covering him, since that day at the tavern, was Merlin’s hands. Arthur hadn’t really given him an opportunity to turn down the knighthood and, even if he had, there was always the possibility – in Gwaine’s mind, at least – that Arthur would have been offended enough to maintain his banishment, and then Gwaine never would have seen Merlin again. Being a knight did have its advantages, though: Gwaine never went hungry, nor did he have to sleep with one eye open, and he had been getting into fewer and fewer brawls over the years. Though that last one was perceived as more of an advantage in Leon’s eyes, who had always been the one to drag him out of any frays and then let him cool off in the cells on the odd occasion. Even when that had happened, though, Merlin had always slipped in and spent the night with Gwaine, heating his body up to unnatural temperatures to keep Gwaine warm. The first few times that had happened, Gwaine had been terrified that Merlin would spontaneously combust, but Merlin had frequently assured him that such a trick was not possible.

So they would stand there, facing one another in silence, Gwaine’s materialistic armour strewn across the room, and then Gwaine would take Merlin gently in his hands, tracing segments of the form he knew so well, and then their souls would fuse together with their lips.

When the stars had shifted substantially, Gwaine hauled himself from his position and shook out his legs in the vain attempt to rid himself of the cramp in his limbs, slowly advancing towards Leon’s form. He gently prodded him awake, instinctively lunging backwards as the reflexive swipe came from the blankets, and held out his arms to receive said blankets when a thickened voice quietly called out his name.

Turning around, Gwaine could just make out Merlin’s hands stretching out in a half-hearted wave in the heavy darkness and, telling Leon to forget about the blankets, picked his way through the sleeping knights, guided by the dropping syllables of his name. By the time he reached Merlin, the warlock’s hands had fallen to the ground and, smiling fondly, Gwaine hastily stripped down to his gambeson and slid into the nest Merlin had made.

There were significantly more blankets than Merlin should have had – not that Gwaine was complaining – and Merlin drowsily pushed several layers towards him, turning around to face Gwaine. His eyes flickered in the darkness as his hand fell against Gwaine’s chest and, from the point where Merlin touched him, the knight could feel a comforting heat pushing into him like a blade. Gwaine realised he probably should have tied back his hair so Merlin didn’t accidentally try to eat it in his sleep, but he was too comfortable to do that. With a smile, Gwaine encircled the warlock with his arms and rested his mouth against Merlin’s forehead as his eyes closed.

‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you, too,’ Merlin murmured.

Gwaine frowned, one eye cracking open. ‘You were asleep. You couldn’t have missed me.’

There was a pause. ‘You know I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I couldn’t sleep properly without you next to me, right?’

‘I did not.’ Gwaine waited until he felt five of Merlin’s exhalations drape themselves around his throat before speaking again. ‘Whatever did you do before I came into your life?’

‘Had a decent night’s sleep, because I wasn’t aware of your existence and consequently didn’t have to constantly worry about preserving it.’ Merlin shifted against him, hands crawling under Gwaine’s shirt and settling themselves on his stomach. ‘It’s so strange to think that we didn’t even know that the other existed. That we had no idea that one day we would be right here, in this moment.’

Merlin, when tired, always became philosophical. And usually when Gwaine was tired he couldn’t make head or tail of what his significant other was saying, but perhaps the cool night air had cleared his head more than ale usually did. ‘I think I prefer it that way,’ Gwaine murmured. ‘If we’d known that the other was out there, then I think we would have spent all our lives searching. We would have pinned our entire existence on the other person and that’s...That just doesn’t feel right. Not that I’m saying I don’t love you.’

‘No, no, I know...I know what you mean,’ yawned Merlin, pushing his head into Gwaine’s chest.

Tightening his arms around Merlin, Gwaine listened to the rhythm of the warlock’s breathing pattern, trying to match his own to it, and gently kissed the top of his head. There was a slight mumble, and something that might have resembled an ‘I love you’ and Gwaine murmured it back, just in case. It had been too long since the two of them had drifted off together, wrapped in one another’s beings, and Gwaine would forever bind himself to the soft form that was quite literally touching his heart.

#so compared to moee recent ones this does seem quite fluffy...#thanks again for the prompt!!!#tbh i'm surprised the knights didn't huddle together for warmth when sleeping more often #it can get fucking cold #merlin #gwaine #merwaine #hug prompts #lit writes #bbc merlin #*more

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theimprobabledreamersworld · 3 years

Text

While I’m here... I’ve finally updated My Past Became Our Future! :D

Taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @stardustlv (I can’t remember if anyone else was on the taglist for this one... Let me know!)

Read it here!

Chapter 10: How Did It Come To This?

‘The world’s got a funny way of turnin’ around on you.’

As the video call cut out, Thomas couldn’t even raise his head. The way Virgil’s voice trembled as he called out their names, the pain in his voice stabbed him right in the heart. He glanced over and saw tears welling Nico’s eyes. They never thought it would come to this. As Patton smiled at them with a new level of malevolence, it was clear that he had lied to them all along, he made it seem like he only wanted to keep Virgil safe. In all the years they’ve been part of The Family. This was the first time both of them have become consumed by emotion when it comes to a job.

Thomas remembered the first time they met at that restaurant. The first night in months where they could just be themselves and they weren’t assassins. Virgil and Logan walked in so apprehensive, so nervous about how people would view them. Thomas should have guessed that Virgil was one of them from the way he looked around the room for threats, the brief glimmer of a dagger just poking out of his pocket, but he just didn’t think of it at the time. That’s why Thomas felt so happy when they were sat next to them, a normal couple. A small slice of a normal life that Thomas and Nico couldn’t have. It was clear that tonight was their first real date, which was why Thomas decided to call out to them, to get rid of some of those nerves. Nico glared at him, but when they all got talking, it was the best decision he could have made. They were wonderful and despite their job, they were determined to make these two lovebirds their best friends. The four of them talked and talked through the evening until it was closing time. Nico ran across the restaurant to get their poor server to take a picture for them. His phone pinged with a message from Patton, but he shut it down ready to take the photo. It was one of their most treasure photos, it’s even the wallpaper on their phones. As they parted ways, they both took out of their phones looking at the text from the boss.

‘Hey kiddos! I’ve got a new mark for you to keep an eye on. We go waaaay back. He used to be a part of The Family believe it or not! I received word that there’s a threat on his life, I don’t want anything to happen to him… So can you keep an eye on him and report back to me whenever you see him? The photo of him is attached. Bye kiddos!’

“You know, I really wish he would stop calling us that… I mean, I think we’re older than him and we’re married.” Nico sighed as he opened the photo as Thomas chuckled and did the same on his phone. They both fell silent and stared at the image.

“Virgil?” The shock was palpable between the two, they looked at each other and both had the exact same thought. They would protect him with every fiber of their being.

Their game plan was simple. Meet with Virgil and Logan on a regular basis but keep it in one place to watch out for any unusual characters. Their weapons would be tucked away in their bags just in case they were needed. There was no way they were letting anything happen to their new best friends, if Virgil was in danger- then Logan could be too. Every time, they would give Patton a detailed amount of information which he was grateful for… almost too grateful for in hindsight. As time went on however, they started to become more and more slack on information. They even began to lie about seeing them. Virgil was no longer a mark, someone to monitor. He was their friend and each time they reported to Patton, there was a guilt that they couldn’t shake.

Thomas’ biggest regret is that it was him that told Patton about the engagement and consequent wedding. In his defence, he thought he was it would be handy to have them all there as a protection team. After all, him and Nico still thought Virgil was in danger. They put all of their effort into planning the dream wedding, one they couldn’t have. They wanted their best friends to have a perfect day together, damn the consequences. It happened when they were out one day buying wedding supplies.

“Have we lost track of the mission?” Nico asked while they were looking at flowers for the wedding one day. “I mean, we were supposed to be monitoring and reporting back every time. I know I’ve been slacking, I haven’t wanted to report anything, but… are we… getting too close? I think we’re letting our emotions cloud our judgement.” He wasn’t talking in a harsh way. It was almost as if he wanted reassurance that what they were doing was okay.

“You know what? If we have… who cares? I care about Virgil, and Logan. We might not be reporting back as frequently as normal, but we’re doing our best to look out for threats and we’re protecting the two other people that we care about.” He took Nico’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. They continued to pick flowers, Nico went to buy the ones that they had picked and to order more. Thomas checked to see if he was out of sight before taking out his phone and texting Patton. He told him everything, the engagement, the wedding preparations as well as the date and location of the wedding.

The wedding was beautiful and the gratitude from Virgil and Logan was staggering. They’ve never been loved by other people before, but having these two in their lives made their roles as assassins more worthwhile. Both of them saw The Family walk in and sit at the back, but they made sure to ignore them. There was no reason to raise suspicions. Nico looked confused as to why they were here, and Thomas shrugged back in response. However, when he saw the colour drain from Virgil’s face at the sight of them, he knew that he had probably made a costly mistake. He pushed that thought aside and linked hands with Nico as they watched the two exchange vows. Nico leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“You know, maybe one day we could renew our vows. Have a proper wedding.” He smiled and softly kissed Nico in response. They were the first ones to stand up, clap and cheer when they were officially declared as married. When they both briefly turned around, they saw a gleam in Patton’s eye. He was definitely going to try and get Virgil on his own.

Nico ran up to the two newly-weds and hugged them tightly, then Thomas followed suit. Logan told everyone how to get to the party in the garden, then Nico and Thomas guided everyone through. They knew The Family would have already gone to find somewhere to wait for Virgil, and it was no surprise when Virgil had disappeared, but they couldn’t help but panic when Logan was nowhere to be seen. They searched the whole party and then every room in the building. As they heard voices, it was clear where The Family were… but they weren’t expecting Logan to be standing outside watching everything. Thomas went to walk over but Nico grabbed his wrist and shook his head. When they saw Janus’ crook wrap around Logan, they knew that they would eventually give him the memory repressor and there was nothing they could do about it. Time seemed to slow and when The Family finally came out of the room, the look of anger on all of their faces showed that the meeting didn’t go according to plan. Patton stormed up to them and even they had to admit they were pretty scared.

“Get that mess cleared up.” His voice was filled with pure rage as he pointed to the room behind them. “And trust me, kiddos. We’ll be having words soon.” He then smiled and waved them off as the others followed behind. Thomas took Nico’s hand and they both walked down the corridor playing dumb. They pretended to believe Virgil’s lie about Logan falling over and they all carried on with the evening like nothing had ever happened. Everyone in the party had been drinking too much to realise that the two guests of honour were not there that whole time.

Ever since the wedding, they both agreed that they wouldn’t report back to Patton with any form of frequency. They also stopped giving information like their location, that would stay just between them. They still had their fortnightly meet ups with the boys and the bond they built was the strongest thing ever. The boys came to them for everything; good news, help with arguments, dealing with bad days, just to meet up to get away from the everything. They appreciated the time to be normal. That all changed when Patton called them in not too long ago. They went to the house and entered the dark, desolate room in the house hand in hand, both of them unsure what was going to happen. Remus entered first and growled at them to sit down. Then Patton strolled in with a neutral expression on his face.

“You’ve got too close boys… but don’t worry. I have the perfect way to fix that.”

Thomas never forgot the smile that Patton gave them as he left and put the call with Virgil on loudspeaker. Him and Nico stared at each other in shock when they heard Patton’s ultimatum. Then when Remus pushed them into the room, they both realised they were going to be used to enforce Patton’s threats against Virgil if he refused to make a choice.

Nico looked over at Thomas, and Thomas nodded as a response.

“Don’t let me down, kiddos.” He walked over and handed them the files with all the details, even though they knew everything already. Patton grabbed both of their wrists menancingly.

“Or I’ll make sure you live to regret ever joining me in the first place.” He smiled and left them too it.

Thomas wrapped Nico in a firm embrace after he saw his husband shaking from that last remark. Nico gave him a tight squeeze and removed himself from the hug. They looked at each other, then nodded.

They were going to go and save their friends.

Whatever the consequences may be.

#ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #Ts c!thomas #ts nico #assassin au #memories #ts patton #kinda angst #long time no update #but got there in the end

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 part 2 belongs to this

i think I should warn you. This is an old!Jaskier fic. Meaning, eventually Jaskier will lose his memory and there won’t be some magic spell to bring it back. He isn’t immortal either, so eventually there will be major character death. Neither happens in this chapter (it won’t happen for like 6 more chapters probably).

On the bright side, this story isn’t heavily plot-based, so if at any time you want to stop reading, you won’t be missing any big revelations or something. I will give content warnings when we get to the heavy stuff, but be warned that it will come to that eventually.

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It should have been strange. Sitting in a tavern simply because he wanted to and not because he needed to look for the next contract. It should be strange, unsettling even. It hadn’t been for a long time. Though it took weeks getting used to, Geralt came here with Jaskier time and time again, for the sole reason of enjoying themselves.

It should have been strange. A witcher and a bard – travelling no more, but collecting sea shells on their window sills, taking walks along the shore, hand in hand and without the pressure of knowing they’d have to leave soon, going to taverns like normal people did. Geralt was never going to be normal and as far as he was concerned, Jaskier was as far from ordinary as it could get. And yet. There was something beautiful, something soft in the simplicity of the life they were building here.

There was something so fiercely right about the way people referred to Geralt as “that lovely man’s beloved” instead of as a witcher.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over the patrons, couldn’t keep himself from straining his ears. Even Jaskier’s arm around his waist wasn’t enough to counter decades of training and drilling instincts into him. As much as Geralt wanted to only feel Jaskier next to him, only hear his voice, whispering sweet nothings that were everything to him into his ear, he couldn’t help but pick up what he was trained to hear amidst the laughter of the crowd.

“It’s true, there is no way for me to bring my wares over to Blackrocks.” The voice was relatively new in town. A travelling merchant, probably. Though he forced his words to sound frustrated rather than scared, the hidden emotion was obvious to Geralt. Too often had he met people desperate to hide their fear. “Ol’ Olek – may his soul find rest in Melitele’s amble bosom – tried weeks ago and I’m not stupid enough to follow in his steps. Bandits and the occasional arsehole tollkeeper I can handle. But a griffin? I’d rather sit on a scorpion bare-arsed than coming across one of those.”

Immediately, Geralt tensed, but willed himself to remain seated. Years of being low on coin and desperate for any contract he could get were hard to shake off. He forced himself to relax. He didn’t need a contract. He didn’t. His place was with Jaskier. He didn’t need to go. He couldn’t do that to Jaskier, to them.

“Are you alright, love?”

Geralt closed his eyes when Jaskier’s concerned voice interrupted his desperate thoughts. As it should. Jaskier was what mattered most. He should always be at the forefront of Geralt’s mind. Not some merchant whose livelihood was threatened because of a monster that Geralt was trained to slay.

Geralt managed a grunt, not confirmation, merely acknowledgement of Jaskier’s words.

“Oh, dearest.” Jaskier twisted in his arms to face him, laying one hand on Geralt’s cheek and softly guiding him to look at Jaskier. “Ah,” he said after a moment, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I know that face.”

Geralt let out a long breath, surrendering to his fate as Jaskier continued to study him as if he were a child’s poem, easy to read and easier yet to analyse.

“That is the face you make when you tell me ‘no’ before I even told you what I want.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “Because most of the time I already know what you want.”

“Which is?” Jaskier lifted his chin in playful defiance.

“To come with me on a hunt.”

Jaskier laughed, freely and loudly and oh so beautifully. “Is there a hunt to accompany you on?” He asked as though they hadn’t talked about this before. As though Jaskier’s admission that he wouldn’t be able to go on hunts with Geralt any more hadn’t already broken his heart. As though the promise of a quiet life together hadn’t mended it faster than any spell had been able to heal his wounds before.

“No. There isn’t one.”

Jaskier cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. A few heartbeats passed and Geralt held his breath praying that Jaskier wouldn’t see, that he wouldn’t know –

“Geralt,” he finally said in a tone that suggested Geralt was a student who had been caught sneaking alcohol into the classroom without sharing it with the teacher. “May I remind you of how often I have seen you react to mentions of monsters near-by? The fact that I couldn’t hear whoever was talking doesn’t change a thing – it never has, whether it’s me being old or you having superhuman hearing. I know you.” His thumb brushed over Geralt’s cheek and his tone became fond once more. “So, what is it?”

“Griffin.” Geralt forced his eyes to let Jaskier in, needing him to understand. “I am not going.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a new one. Isn’t it normally ‘you are not going’?”

“What we have isn’t normal.” It’s so much better. It’s too precious and fragile to worth risking.

Jaskier sighed, his hand falling from Geralt’s face and dropping down to his chest, coming to rest on his heart.

“No, it’s not,” Jaskier said and undoubtedly he could feel the skip in Geralt’s chest as the relief of Jaskier’s agreement seeped through him. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give up your old life for me completely.” A sly smile stole onto Jaskier’s face and there was something in his eyes that Geralt couldn’t begin to name. “My eyes might not be the best and whatnot, but I assure you, my mind and memory are still sharp as ever. You might pretend it didn’t happen, but I very vividly remember having this talk before.”

Geralt’s shoulders sagged. “I know.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said softly, filled with a heart-shattering amount of fondness. “We both know you can’t just sit around doing nothing forever. Spending every day with you being idle was wonderful, but it is not who you are.”

“It’s who I could be.”

Jaskier didn’t answer. His look, tilted head and eyes so knowing said more than even a poet could express with words. Geralt might have that face he always made when he was going to deny Jaskier his request – his scary face, as Jaskier so fondly and teasingly called it - but Jaskier had this one expression, the one he would always use shortly before Geralt would relent and grant Jaskier his wish. Who was he to deny a bard in need of inspiration to come with him? And who was he to deny the man he loved and who so desperately needed to feel like he didn’t stop Geralt from being himself to give him that freedom to leave him?

“I will come back to you,” Geralt said and the smile Jaskier gifted him was almost worth the clenching of his heart at the thought of leaving him behind, however briefly.

“Of course you will.”

“Blackrocks isn’t far. Only three days on horseback. Two if I’m fast.”

“Don’t be.” There was an inexplicable strain to Jaskier’s word, an edge that didn’t cut, as his hand gripped Geralt’s shirt tighter. “Don’t be fast. Don’t rush. Don’t let the world pass by in a flurry. Take your time.”

“I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“And I don’t want you to miss out all the details.” His tone was back to teasing, but the unknown weight was still there. An unspoken need that Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever be allowed to understand. “You do know that I will pester you for the grand tale of your adventure, don’t you?”

Geralt’s mouth quirked up involuntarily. “Naturally.”

Jaskier pointed a finger at him. “I am being serious about the details. Don’t just tell me about the griffin. I need to know about how the people you helped looked at you when they realise that they are safe now. I need you to stop and notice the different shades of the sky at dawn and the smell of the wildflowers. Try to find strange shapes in the clouds for me, will you? Promise me, you will see all of that.”

Something in Geralt’s throat grew tight. He gently took Jaskier’s hand that was still pointing at him and held it close. “You’d be far better at describing those things.”

“I don’t need you to describe them like a poet would. Just… see them. Can you do that for me?” Desperation coloured his voice that Geralt vowed to himself he would do anything he could to banish from Jaskier’s life.

“I can.” His voice, barely a whisper grew stronger. “I will.”

How could he not? To Jaskier, the world was so big and bright and beautiful. Geralt would not stand between Jaskier and this beauty that he deserved to breathe in with every inhale and feel with every heartbeat. Jaskier might be unable to leave, confided to the coast like the mermaid in his story was to the sea. Every step father from home would pain him, but staying in his confide unable to know what he was missing would hurt his soul just as much. Geralt would not subject him to this fate. He would do his best to make Jaskier see the world, even if it meant learning how to paint pictures with words instead of showing it to him first hand.

He lifted Jaskier’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against his fingers, a silent vow.

Jaskier understood. He always did. His eyes brightened and his smile grew warmer. The look he gifted Geralt with was so tender it almost hurt and Geralt knew what he had started to learn years ago; that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see that look on Jaskier’s face.

Jaskier needed him to be himself and do what he did. Geralt still needed to help people. And Jaskier still needed stories. almost as much as he needed arms to hold him close and whispers telling him that there was nothing as important as him.

He gently gave Jaskier’s fingers a squeeze and stood up to talk to the merchant.

---

“The sunrise was more pink on the third day than on any other day. It was… the colour looked like that one doublet of yours. The one you wore on midsummer in White Orchard.” The words were awkward and nowhere close to the vivid descriptions Jaskier no doubt would have found, but Jaskier’s eager eyes were worth it. The familiar scratching of a quill on parchment accompanied Geralt’s words, lulling him into a sense of comfort. “When I told the people I had slain the griffin, one woman cried and the merchant looked like Bieberfeld did when he had realised that Dudu actually knew what he was doing with his money.”

A grin spread across Jaskier’s face at the memory. “Who would have thought. You do know how to tell a story after all.”

“I am sure you will find better words for it when you make it into a song.”

Jaskier tilted his head and gave his notes a long look, before setting his eyes back on Geralt. “No. I think I quite like the words as they are.”

He lay the quill to the side. Ink-stained fingers of parchment-skinned hands found Geralt’s hand. “Thank you, love.”

Warmth blossomed in Geralt’s chest as he looked at their intertwined fingers. Maybe this was good enough. Maybe life could continue to be like this. Maybe it could be that simple.

----

Against all odds, against all the rocks destiny was known to throw in his way, it truly was that simple. Despite everything, Geralt was allowed to have this.

He continued to bring Jaskier stories and Jaskier in turn would tell him what he had done while Geralt had been away. Somehow he managed to make the most mundane things sound like the biggest adventure. The knowledge that this was the life that they had, that when he returned from his hunts, they could experience these ordinary, domestic adventures together, made Geralt’s heart swell in his chest.

He brought Jaskier descriptions of the sky and Jaskier told him about the unruly sea.

When Geralt finally made true on his promise to go to the harvest festival in Corvo Bianco, he brought Jaskier a bottle of wine and a summer jacket and Jaskier in turn gifted him with the sight of immediately donning the garment and grinning at him with a flush that the alcohol was only partly to blame for.

“What do you think?” Jaskier asked, twirling around as much as his joints allowed him to.

I think I never want to give up what we have here. I think you are gifting me with the best life. “You look good.”

“Good?” Jaskier huffed. “Come on, Geralt. I taught you better than that. You were doing so well describing the world to me.”

Geralt sighed, but it held no annoyance. “I think…you look like you could make the flowers jealous.”

Jaskier threw his head back laughing and if Geralt were a poet, he would have thought that somewhere out there, a rose was seething with envy that she would never be able to give a lover the same indescribable feeling that Jaskier’s laugh gave Geralt.

#editing? never heard of her #in my defence my laptop decided to delete a good chunk of what i had written and i had to rewrite it #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #Geralt #old jaskier #old!jaskier #do i use the word 'gift' far too often in this?#eh probably #fic #fanfic #my writing #the coast #accidental multichapter #witcher #jaskier #Birds still sing when they fall from the sky

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maybankiara · 4 years

Text

IT’S LIKE A STORY OF LOVE

pairing: Kiara Carrera x Reader

prompt: “Standing by the window, rain falling, I want to have you full in my embrace and tell you, even when I’m born again and love you, even then, will you be with me?” - 선물 Gift by KREAM (from my song prompt list)

summary: It takes you nearly ten years, but getting Kiara to love you back is worth it.

word count: 2.2k

additional: this is tooth-rotting fluff and nothing else. beware.

masterlist

tag list

written for @kiarasflowr

You don’t believe in soulmates. You grow up believing in love, though, in two people seeing each other valuable enough to adore and cherish for the rest of their lives. It’s naive, for the most part, and idealistic for the whole part.

(Life isn’t that simple.)

You learn that when you’re six, and you’re told that your best friend’s parents are getting a divorce. They’re two people you've looked at as an example of a good life, as what you thought of when you played marriage with your friends.

Your parents had to explain to you that divorce is ‘when two people fall out of love.’ The idea of love not being permanent is something new and something terrifying, but it doesn’t really matter.

Your parents are together. They tell you they still love each other, very much, and that means that you can still play pretend, only imagine you’re your parents, instead.

(At the age of six is also when you meet a girl called Kiara, with curly hair and a nose for trouble. Next time you play pretend, she’s the one you marry. you’re kids – nobody thinks anything of it.)

You grow out of the age of playing pretend and love stops being something you think about. Most of your days are spent with your friends, out in the woods or at the beach, and you get that fuzzy feeling when you’re around them.

At ten, you think of love again. You’re older now and you realise that love is more than just when two people kiss – it’s when you laugh as you twirl your friends, or when you make up fake stories to creep each other out, or when Kiara comes over to help you with homework.

It’s love, what you feel for the people in your life. You love your friends. You love Kiara. You love people because they’re important to you.

‘What do you think about love?’ you ask Kiara one day.

The two of you are at a playground, sitting on a pair of swings and watching the sun set, counting down minutes until you have to part ways.

‘I love my parents,’ she tells you, ‘and I love my dog. I don’t know. What about you?’

Even at ten, you try not to be hurt because she doesn’t say that she loves you, too. Maybe love is different for her.

(Your heart feels a little sore and you feel heartbreak for the first time, even if you won’t admit it.)

‘I don’t know,’ you say, because i love everyone who is important to me and that includes you doesn’t seem like the right thing to say. ‘I love my parents.’

When you come home, half an hour later, you can’t stop feeling weird. Your mum notices and asks, so you tell her.

She hugs you, and you know that’s love.

‘She didn't mean that you don’t matter to her,’ she tells you. ‘The two of you don’t view love the same way, and that’s normal. You girls are just kids. You shouldn’t be thinking about complicated things such as love.’

(You don’t think love is complicated. It’s simple -- if they make you feel like life without them without be the same, it’s love.)

You don’t think of love after that, because your mum is right.

Time goes by and people in your life change. You’re fourteen when you start high school and you don’t go to the same one as Kiara. You meet boys called JJ and John B and Pope, and they’re your best friends, now. You don’t even see Kiara anymore, except on Instagram and Snapchat.

The loss of her isn’t as deep of a wound you expected it to be if it ever happened, and a life without her in it is not that different, or worse at all. You like your new friends. you like your school. You like the way things are. But you don’t think about love now that she’s gone, and even though the wound isn’t deep, it doesn’t heal.

You’ll always love Kiara. She’ll always be a part of who you are. People drift away from one another but it doesn’t make a change in what they meant to you – it’s what your mother tells you once, too.

For a year, you’re with boys who call themselves the Pogues, and you’re one of them.

You learn how to kiss, and it’s messy and sloppy and there’s a lot more saliva than you thought there would be. Maybe you don’t know how to kiss, or maybe you don’t like the people you kiss.

It doesn’t help that you’re fifteen now, and people are starting to talk about love again.

JJ hits a blunt one day. ‘I don’t think I could ever love anyone apart from you guys.’

Pope grabs the grass on the ground next to his leg and throws it at the boy. ‘Shut up. You don’t even know what love is.’

‘Don’t you love me, too, Pope?’

‘Of course I do. You’re my best friend, asshole. I’m just saying you’re going to find other people to love, too.’

You think about the guys’ words. You agree with them both – they’re your best friends, and of course you love them. Of course that’s what love is, and nothing less.

(It’s one of the first times in a while you think of Kiara on a swing all those years ago, and you think that maybe she didn’t love you, after all.)

‘Love,’ laughs John B, all the way from the hammock. ‘It’s a dumb word.’

Ironically, or maybe just poetically, it’s John B who falls in love first.

A girl called Sarah, his boss’s daughter, joins their circle a month into the summer after the freshman year ends. She’s from the rich part of the island, same as Kiara, and she’s got John B whipped around her finger.

Turns out, she knows Kiara. In fact, she’s best friends with the girl. You wonder if you should tell her that you miss her – you wonder whether you do miss her.

You’re okay, you think. You’ve got a different group of friends now. Some people might be better left in the past – who’s to say the two of you would even want to be friends? You’ve changed, and she must’ve, too.

It hasn’t been three weeks into John B introducing Sarah to the group when he tells them, ‘I think I’m in love with her.’

‘How do you know?’ asks Pope.

‘I just do.’ John B shrugs, hands on the back of his head, a lazy smile on his lips, as if being in love were the easiest thing in the world. ‘I can’t imagine my life without her. She means everything to me.’

JJ cracks a joke, and he and Pope spend the next twenty minutes giving him shit for letting Sarah turn him soft. You’re chipping in, every now and then, but you think about a girl with curly hair and a nose for trouble. You don’t say this to John B, but you know that there’s always a life after and before finding someone you love.

(The great part comes in-between.)

Coincidentally, Sarah’s birthday party is on a Saturday night at the end of July, and it’s big enough that she decides to invite all of the Pogues. You know Kiara is going to be there, so you decide to wing it. If you end up talking, great, but you have no expectations.

‘Looking good, Y/N,’ Pope comments. ‘Catching any fish tonight?’

You think of the last time you caught some, and how it felt to have another person’s tongue in your mouth, so you shake your head no.

‘Fuck that.’

But Pope leaves and he leaves you with your thoughts, which lead you to the girl you might meet again today. For whatever reason, you like that Pope noticed you put a good amount of effort in.

When you see her for the first time, none of the Pogues are at your side and you’re talking to Sarah, instead, who’s introducing you to her friends. Kiara comes late, sporting a simple t-shirt and denim shorts, hair in a half-up-do.

Her eyes glaze over you and her lips stretch into a wide smile. Before you know it, she’s screaming your name and pulling you into a hug.

(She smells exactly the way you remember.)

‘I can’t believe you came!’ exclaims Kiara, pulling back. Her smile falters and she seems shy all of a sudden, pulling into herself. ‘Sorry. I know it’s been a while, and I probably shouldn’t have—’

‘No,’ you cut her off. ‘I’m really happy to see you, too.’

The words bring life to her face again. Kiara pulls your hand as she drags you around the place, introducing you to the people she’s been hanging out with for the past year. You introduce her to the Pogues, too, and it’s almost a surprise to see that despite the fact that she’s changed a lot, it seems as if you’ve both changed in the same direction.

She gets on with the Pogues better than any of you expected her to. She becomes a part of the group without a second thought, as if she’s always been a part of it.

(Your mum was right. Your feelings for the Kiara you used to know never faded – they’re only merging with the new ones, for the Kiara you’re getting to know.)

It isn’t long into the rekindled friendship that you begin to think about love again. It creeps on you like a ladybug, and it stays on you like a wish you’d make as a child.

You glance at Kiara, catch her smiling at whatever Pope’s saying. You get that fuzzy feeling in your stomach again, except it’s different now.

Now you know that you don’t need her in your life, but a life with her in it is the life you prefer living.

She catches you looking. Her smile is yours now, and you give her one, too.

(Love pops up in your mind again.)

When it’s winter, and everyone is holed up in the Chateau, Kiara leans against you. You pull a blanket over the two of you and feel her feet close to you as her head rests on your shoulder.

(do we keep finding each other time and time again? If i lost you, would i find you?)

(yes. You know you would.)

When you wake up on John B’s pullout couch, Kiara is still curled up into you. You wonder if that’s how all friends sleep.

You don’t have an answer.

By the time March comes around and nature begins to grow again, you’re in love with Kiara Carrera. It’s not something that happens, instead it’s something that grows within you, too. You wake up one morning and things make sense, when the night before they didn’t.

It’s a rainy night. You go to Kiara’s as you were meant to, for a movie night, just the two of you.

(It’s been happening for a while now. You have the taste in movies the others don’t share – or maybe it’s more than just that.)

You see Kiara out of the window, curled up on her bed with her knees to her chest, texting with a smile on her face. Your phone chimes – you don’t need to check the sender.

Her hair is in two braids this time, loose and carefree, just the way Kiara’s been for the past few months. Things are changing for the two of you, slowly, and you wonder if somewhere along the line, you became more than just friends without realising. It’s the little touches, the little cuddles, the secrets and confessions whispered in the dark – it’s all for just the two of you.

She spots you out of the window and waves, getting to her feet with the brightest smile. You know you’ll get to be close to her on her bed, maybe even hold her, but you want to do it properly.

You want to hold her without restrictions. Without having to hold back.

(You want to hold her like you want to love her – for the whole world to see.)

Later that night, she kisses you for the first time. It’s soft and gentle and full of feeling and caring, and it’s more lips than tongues. It’s daring and bold but it’s kind and curious, and you realise that you love kissing Kiara. It feels like kissing honey.

You don’t talk about it, not really, but you do think about how right this feels. Your limbs entangled, your lips on each other’s, eager to explore but eager to wait, too.

It feels as if you’ve got the whole time in the world.

(More than that. You feel as if you’ve got the time before and the time after, as if you’d find each other and learn to love each other regardless of what happens.)

Kiara’s lips on yours just make you believe that soulmates might be real, too.

★

tagging. @jjtheangel @teenwaywardasgardian @thelocalpogue @jjmaybanky @sacredto @chasefreakinstokes @drewstarkey @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @outrbank @activist-af @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @jjmaybanksbaby @mahleeyuh @starkeymarkey @nicolewithasoul

#kiara carrera #kiara carrera imagine #kiara carrera x reader #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #obx fanfiction #kiara carrera fanfiction #f: obx #c: kiara #my fic #my imagine #requested

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mother-snake · 3 years

Note

(can I be 🐍 anon?) How about a fic where the other's start to slowly notice that Janus is getting more and more comfortable with them and trusting them more. Examples like: they start to notice that they don't have to convince him so hard that they want him around. He starts to relax his outfits a bit until he just shows up in black pants, a big yellow sweater, and signature hat. etc. Ends with happy snake boi getting all the cuddles. - 🐍

this... has taken such a long time... sorry! words: 1961 tags: @idkanameatall @imma-potatoo @girl-with-many-fandoms

The first to realise it was Logan. he had been sat at his desk trying to get some work done. The lights had been turned off a few hours ago and he had been sneaking the occasional glance over to his bed. Janus had come to him that morning not feeling very well, so he had offered to keep an eye on the side to make sure it wasn’t anything serious.

And that it wasn’t, just merely a head cold. But he still didn’t want to wake Janus. The poor side looked exhausted as he slept. that had tripped Logan figuratively up. he had been rather used to Janus just hiding away in his own room rather than coming to here. And that had made him smile… Janus trusted him enough to come to him when he needed help despite being in a venerable state.

He stood up from his desk and walked over to Janus the duvets further up to give the snake some more warmth. he would message Patton soon to bring Janus something to eat. Logan would leave, but he didn’t want Janus to wake up alone.

“m’thanks,” Janus murmured from under the blanket. “it’s all right Janus, go back to sleep for now,” Logan said ruffling the snake’s hair. yeah… he would let Janus rest for now, Logan thought as he sat down to continue his work.

-- the next person to realise it was Patton. They had been on semi good terms since the aftermath of the wedding, but he knew that Janus would need time to warm up to him after all that had happened.

And as he was sitting in the Livingroom, the shinning playing in the background. A sudden thought crossed his mind and he found himself jumping up and making his way to the serpent’s room. the bright yellow door seemed to match along with the others, almost completing the set.

He knocked on the door excitedly. the door opened widely to a rather nervous snake, “hello Patton, may I ask what you need?” “you, me baking cookies!” Patton cheered. Janus rolled his eyes before stepping out of his room, “very well then, it sounds entertaining.”

They walked back down to the kitchen and immediately began to grab things from shelves and storage spaces. peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies. Janus was trying not to show too much excitement. but still Patton could sense it.

And it wasn’t put on, like he used to a few months ago, he could sense the happiness radiating from everyone else… but it was Janus at the moment he could truly sense.

And as he watched Janus sneak a chocolate chip from the packet, he could see the progress. And every second was worth it. and for now, he would make sure it continued only onwards. “come on kiddo, don’t eat all the chips,” Patton giggled as he ruffled Janus’s hair with a smile.

-- the third was Virgil. The two of them had issues that they still needed to sort out. and it was a surprise when he found out the others knew his name. but he knew as soon as he heard that roman had mocked his name, that it would affect him badly. and it had. He had found the snake curled up behind the yellow door.

But now… it seemed the rolls had almost reversed. Virgil wasn’t sure what it was, or why but he had felt his anxiety heighten more than it normally did today. he had found himself sitting on his bed. The room was blacked out by spider curtains, but the sound of nocking on the door had barely been audible over his obnoxiously loud music.

He had told whoever it was to enter. But hadn’t been expecting Janus. and it seemed the side had an outfit change. a black calf length pleated skirt and a bright yellow button up. a small black bowtie finished off the outfit. But of course, he still had his cape and hat.

“nice look,” Virgil murmured as he laid his head back. “you’re not stressed,” Janus said sternly,” don’t move over,” he said rolling his eyes.

Virgil didn’t know what to expect. But definitely not Janus pulling a hidden snake from around his arm. He let out a bizarre noise of concern and or panic, he was yet to decide, as the snake was placed on his arms.

He looked up to Janus with wide eyes, “not the snake…” Janus grinned, “oh… no, the snakes”

Much to Virgil's own amusement as the snake lifted its head and let out a small blep, he could feel whatever was bothering him leave almost immediately. Janus sat down next to Virgil and watched him coo over the snake despite its slightly large size. He found himself feeling years younger, going back to when they could have only been in single digits.

And as he glanced over to Janus he felt as if things had… almost gone back to how things were from before the split. And he felt himself smile. “hey Virge,” Janus said as he took the snake from his arms, “your eyeshadows purple,” he grinned. Virgil playfully nudged Janus in the shoulder, “yeah, okay the snake broke my poor cold heart,” they both found themselves in a fit of laughter.

Yeah. He was going to make sure Janus laughed like that again. After all they had both been through… Janus deserved to feel this happy.

Remus had been next. It had been a nock on his door in the middle of the night. he knew it would most likely be one of the more nocturnal sides.

But as he opened the door to see a familiar side in a dinosaur onesie wrap their arms around him. he knew that tonight would be a little different. as Janus let go of Remus, the imaginative side let Janus enter. Sure, they may not be on the best of terms right now. But for Janus to wake him up so late in the night… something had happened.

He watched as Janus sat down on the rather messy bed and pull his head into his knees. “you okay Jannie?” he asked as he sat down next to the snake, “you wanna talk about it?” he got a small head shake. “come on then, you can stay with me the night if you want,” Remus said as he pulled Janus into a side hug. “thank you,” Janus whispered smally from his chest.

It took a few minuets of cuddling for them to finally shift and lie down next to one another. They lied like that for a few minutes before Remus realised that Janus was out cold.

He let out a small silent laugh as he brushed a piece of hair out of Janus’s face. how long had it been since Janus had been so peaceful? Back when they were darks it seemed like the old Jan had disappeared. Replaced with constant worry about his plans and fear of more people leaving.

He missed seeing Janus without a care in the world. But right now, he felt worried. Not much could have Janus to the brink of tears and have him come into his room of all places.

Right now, however, it was best to get some sleep. Knowing Janus, he would be better to talk to in the morning. That and the bags under his eyes almost rivalled Virgil's at this point. So, he was going to let the snake sleep in. they both needed it.

And soon, Remus was asleep. a protective arm wrapped around his baby brother.

-- the final side to realise had been roman. The other sides had been summoned, forcing the two company seekers to sit in the same room together. it wasn’t reluctant. But the tension could still be cut by roman katana. Janus sat there on the opposite end of the sofa looking in a book. it wasn’t a particularly big one. But it could only keep his attention for so long.

“okay, do you want to put on a movie,” he exasperated as he flung the book onto the coffee table. “um, okay. But what?” “anything. just not Disney…” Janus sighed.

Roman rolled his eyes as he stood up and began surfing through the movies and box sets the mid had accumulated over the years. “okay, hear me out- “roman began as he found something and held it up. there in his hands he held up the original four Jurassic movies.

“I’ll grab the popcorn- “Janus said throwing himself of the sofa and rushing to the kitchen.

And forty minuets in, they found themselves tucked under separate blankets and eating unhealthy amounts of sugary treats. roman had begun to think as the time passed. In the time it had taken for them to get the movie on, sit down and sit in silence beforehand. Janus had made no move for snide remarks… and he couldn’t bring himself to say any either. but something did need to be said.

“hey… Janus?” he asked, looking over to the side shoving popcorn in their moth in handfuls. “yes?” came the muffled reply, making roman chuckle.

“I'm… I'm sorry for before,” he said. “listen. If anyone should be apologising, it should be me,” Janus began, holding up a hand before roman could but in, “I was the one who played you like a kazoo at the court and somehow managed to swap the sides view on me. it most likely sent confusion spinning your way, and you lashed out,” he said. “trust me, its okay. And if you really need it… I forgive you.”

Roman looked at Janus who turned back to watching the tv he blinked slowly compared to normal. And a small part of roman felt a warmth swell in his chest. he had been forgiven. That was enough for now. And he felt a million times lighter. “did you know you can see a hand on one of the raptors being led into the kitchen?” roman said as he took a sip of his obnoxious fizzy concoction Janus made. he didn’t know what was in it. nor would he ask. “that I did princey. That I did,” Janus grinned, flinging a piece of popcorn playfully in the creative sides direction.

He had never seen Janus so… happy. Content before. And a small part of him wondered if it would stay that way. he hoped so… no more fighting sounded nice. and at that moment he found himself hoping that never did happen between them. and he knew he would strive to stop it in the future.

But for now, he had a movie to watch.

-- they all sat together, cuddled up in bundles of blankets trying to ward away the cold chill that flooded the mindscape every late autumn and early winter. Janus himself was in the middle of the cuddle frenzy. Pinned down by logans arm over his shoulder, Patton's head leaning against his other and Virgil lying atop them all. Roman sat next to Patton with Remus next to Logan.

He let out a content sigh. This was the warmest winter he had in years. and it felt perfect. They all held cups of warm coco. They had a movie playing. Patton's choice today had been happy death day. And it had sent a smirk of amusement on his face when everyone paled.

“ten out of ten!” Remus cheered as he watched the main character of the move swan dive into a wood chipper.

There were always going to be issues between them all. But for now, he felt content listening to the sides laugh at Remus trying to lighten up the movie. yeah… this was nice.

#janus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #sander sides

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my-soul-sings · 3 years

Text

just my luck: chapter 13

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Taehee x Reader

|| chapter 13: a fresh start ||

Read on AO3!

full chapter

***

It took only one more day for Taehee to be discharged. The doctor had been amazed at the rate of Taehee’s recovery, and the both of you had said nothing, only nodding in agreement while exchanging sheepish, knowing glances.

Hansol drove the car to pick you both up from the hospital, and when he arrived he was cheery as ever. It looked like he hadn’t been worried about Taehee at all, which made you wonder if getting injured like that was a common occurrence for this man. Or maybe it was simply the fact that it was impossible for Taehee to die or get gravely injured in the first place. Thinking back now, it made sense that Hansol and Biho had been more concerned about you than Taehee when they came to visit that day.

Once everyone was back at the apartment, the first thing Taehee did was make two announcements to his friends.

The first was that you now knew that they were all goblins. Biho and Hansol’s eyebrows had both shot up at that, but otherwise they looked like they had expected something like this to happen eventually.

The second thing was that you would be staying with them longer than expected. When Biho asked why the change of heart (none of them were unfamiliar with your stubbornness by now), all Taehee did was interlock his fingers with yours. The man didn’t know the meaning of being discreet or subtle.

Hansol and Biho instantly understood, brightening with smiles and words of congratulations. Embarrassed, you had pulled your hand away from Taehee, who only laughed and rested his hand against your warm cheek.

Hansol had complained loudly, wondering if this would be the amount of PDA he and Biho would have to put up with from now on.

Biho had been more opportunistic—while Taehee went to unpack in his room, he pulled you aside to request you to distract the clean freak while they tidied their rooms and did the pile of dishes in the sink. Apparently, they thought they would have one more day with the house to themselves, so they hadn’t bothered cleaning up after last night’s dinner.

You had agreed easily—Biho wasn’t the kind of guy people could say ‘no’ to without feeling a prick of guilt.

However, the plan backfired quite quickly when they weren’t able to clean up in time, and even you were powerless to stop Taehee from going on one of his tirades once he started. Soon, the house was filled with the sound of Taehee’s scolding, Hansol’s defiant retorts and Biho “accidentally” dropping a few dishes while washing them, adding to the heightening noise levels.

It was just another day of living in a house with three goblins.

The funny thing was, you had grown used to it. You liked it even—the bickering, the nagging and the bantering.

It was starting to feel like home.

***

Taehee was happy.

It had been a long time since he felt like he could breathe without feeling heavy iron chains around his chest. He couldn’t recall the last time he could smile so much without realising it until his cheeks hurt.

Actually, he did remember. Somewhat. His memory had weathered, chipped away slowly like rusted metal as time went by, and now all he had left were scattered bits of the time spent with her back then.

But the memories were slowly coming back to him as he spent more time with her. They had to stay at home for a week or so, since he was still on medical leave and she had to work from home while the office was being fixed. And as the days went by, Taehee was quickly learning that she was the same woman that he had come to know and love a long time ago.

Things were completely different now—the era they lived in, the world that had changed so much from the conservative town he had grown up in—but he was relieved that some things could withstand the test of time.

For one, she still had that habit of saving her favorite food for last—and that applied to his cooking now. Cooking was only something he had picked up after becoming a goblin, and for the longest time he had regretted not learning sooner and cooking a meal for her when she was alive. It was why he had nearly cried when he got to cook for her for the first time after meeting her again. Fortunately, no one had noticed.

She also still found the most peculiar things amusing, even when he didn’t mean to make her laugh. There was one time he almost wore his apron to sleep by accident and she had laughed for a full minute, bending over and clutching her abdomen while he scrambled to take it off.

Then there was her caring side. Occasionally she’d forget that he was a night goblin and chastise him for staying up late instead of resting. Sometimes he would be engrossed in cooking or reading something, and when he looked up, he’d find her staring at him with a curious smile playing on her lips. While she wasn’t usually the one to initiate hugs or skinship, she would do it sometimes when she thought he was sleeping—running her fingers through his hair, patting his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead and whispering, “Sweet dreams”...

It really did feel like a dream. Everything did. He couldn’t remember the last time he dreaded sleeping and was excited to wake up.

And so it was ironic when Taehee remembered one day that soon, his time would start running again. Falling in love with a human and pledging to love her for the rest of his life meant that he would now have a limit on his life—one that he had wanted to lose for so long and was starting to cherish and desire again. The thought of death now scared him rather than relieved him.

But then she would hold his hand, and the worries and fear would scatter. He would notice the lines on the palm, the ones on his, and imagine the wrinkles that would form in years to come. The one thing that he didn’t want to change was their intertwined fingers, her hand held tightly in his.

And Taehee decided that he finally had a new goal. This time, it wasn’t to be the top scholar of a national examination, nor was it to place a flower crown on her head.

This time, the goal was far more pressing and urgent: he had to find a way to protect her from her misfortune… or attempt to change it entirely.

***

Two weeks later, your wrist healed, which brought your recovery period to a total of seven weeks. The three goblins were ecstatic on your behalf and Taehee cooked up a feast that evening to celebrate. This time, you were able to help them out with the cooking and the washing.

It wasn’t until later that night that you realised Taehee was being unusually shifty and restless around you. He seemed to be making rounds around the house, walking from his room, passing by the couch where you were, drawing near but then taking an unnatural turn towards the kitchen, before returning to his room. The process repeated quite a few times until it became too obvious not to notice him circling you like a scared shark.

Eventually, you called his name to get him to talk.

“Do you need help?” he asked, eyeing your recovered wrist as you set up your “bed” with the blankets. You had vehemently refused to move into his bedroom despite your new relationship status—it was more out of embarrassment than anything else, especially with Biho and Hansol around. Making things awkward was the last thing you wanted in this house, especially when you were perfectly happy with the way things were at the moment.

“I’m fine,” you smiled, waving that hand around to show that it didn’t hurt anymore. “The exercises you told me to do were very helpful.”

A small breath escaped him. You couldn’t tell if it was a sigh or a laugh. You continued setting up the blankets while he watched quietly. Something felt off; he clearly had more to say than ask if you needed his assistance with a piece of cloth.

“Taehee.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You’re being awfully quiet and you’re just staring at me.”

“Oh…” He looked away sheepishly, as if he hadn’t realised he had been boring two large holes in your head. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“I, um… Well, your wrist has healed, but you’re still going to stay here, right?”

You blinked at him, confused. “What? Didn’t we already talk about this? I’m not leaving, unless… you want me to?”

“No! No, I didn’t mean that.” He exhaled in relief, almost as if he had been holding his breath for a long time. Then without warning, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, squeezing you until it was hard to breathe. “Thank you,” he said, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

He was acting like a puppy with abandonment issues—probably because of all the things he had been through before. You hugged him back, a hand running up and down his back.

“You worry too much.”

He nodded in agreement. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Were you pacing up and down the house for the past thirty minutes because of this?”

“...Yes.”

The reluctant admission made you chuckle. It was tempting to tease him further, but you decided to cut the poor man some slack.

“If that’s all, you should go to sleep now. You have work tomorrow.”

“Actually... there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your brows arched as he released you from his embrace, although he held on to your hands. You had learned over the past two weeks that Taehee was much more clingy than he appeared to be—not that you disliked it.

“It’s not confirmed yet and it’s just a theory for now, so I don’t want to get your hopes up for nothing, but I thought you should know.”

“Okay…”

He sounded serious, in the same way he did when he shared about his past that night in the hospital. Goose pimples began to rise on your forearms, but you couldn’t make any likely guesses as to what he was about to tell you.

Taehee stared at you hard for a moment, as if to assess if you were truly mentally prepared for this. Conflict was written in his eyes and it was making you nervous as well. It was hard to tell if this was even good or bad news based on the constipated face he was making.

Finally, he spoke. And it was the last thing you would have ever expected to hear in your life.

“There might be a way to get rid of your bad luck.”

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge taehee #wannabe challenge fanfic #taehee fanfiction #taehee fanfic #kim taehee #my writing #just my luck

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ineffably-effable · 5 years

Text

further good omens fic recs

It’s been awhile since my last reclist post so here goes, please enjoy the rewards of my complete lack of self-control when it comes to this ship.

Please reach out if I’ve missed a tumblr tag, or drop a note if you have any recommendations I’ve missed! ( 31 recommendations underneath the cut )

(51k) Acts of Service by seekwill / @jasmine-cottage-uk

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

mood: pining, denial, secrets, idiots-in-love.

(Warning: Don’t start reading this one at midnight expecting to put it down. Learn from my mistakes.)

(44k) Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 / @improbabledreams900

Crowley from an evil!au swaps places with our Crowley.

mood: butterfly effect, identity theft, Aziraphale!whump, badass!Aziraphale

(40k) The Strong Tower by BuggreAlleThis

After the failed executions, a vengeful angel takes it upon herself to neutralise the threat presented by Crowley and Aziraphale.

mood: aziraphale!whump, protective!crowley, hurt/comfort, pining and fantastic world building.

(23k) You Might Think I'm Crazy (All I Want is You) by soft_october / @soft-october-night

Since the next shop over closed down, Aziraphale's had a peaceful few months, barring those unpleasant interactions with the men in cheap suits who keep trying to persuade him to sell his shop. But now a (handsome) new owner has taken up residence beside him and, horror of horrors, he wants to open up a coffee shop.

mood: fledgling friendships, obviously-in-love-to-everyone-but-themselves, almost-letting-your-doubts-and-insecurities-ruin-things, if-only-these-dumb-bastards-knew-how-to-communicate

(23k) names in history by lagaudiere

Maybe he’d shown Crowley how to perform a few miracles, but that Crowley had taken to them so well was surely a sign that he wasn’t all bad. And maybe Aziraphale had let himself be called upon to perform a few temptations, but that was just testing the will of the faithful if you looked at it from a different angle.

mood: slow-burn, through-the-ages, beautifully written.

(22k) This Soul Outstreaming by Rend_Herring

Aziraphale constructs intricate rituals to touch the skin of other men (by “men” I mean Crowley).

mood: slow-burn, through-the-ages, forbidden love, UST, beautifully written.

(29k) 5 Times Aziraphale was Almost Discorporated and One Time He Actually was by charliebrown1234 / @charliebrown1234

What it says on the tin.

mood: Aziraphale!whump through the ages, protective Crowley, hurt/comfort, wonderful characterizations.

(20k) In Pleasure's Clothes by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Three Times Aziraphale Stalked Crowley In Gay Clubs And One Time He Moped At Wilde’s Grave.

mood: jealousy, pining, miscommunications, idiots-in-love

(18k) Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites) by mia_ugly / @mia-ugly

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell. Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. It just took a little longer.)

mood: ineffable wives thoughtfully done and beautifully written, pining, emotional vulnerability, hurting the ones you love, references to gothic romances that absolutely slay me, switching POVs between Aziraphale and Crowley.

(18k) On Earth as it is in Heaven by JMA

Aziraphale was at Crowley's trial...the first one.

For six thousand years Aziraphale felt like an angel who has fallen, waiting for Heaven to realise. His fear and doubt has shaped and defined him. Now, with the Armageddon over and Heaven and Hell off their backs it is finally time to come clean.

mood: betrayal, pining, misguided attempts at atonement, miscommunication and forgiveness

(15k) Through Every Door by darlingred1 / @darlingred1

After thwarting the end of the world, Aziraphale begins to avoid Crowley, and Crowley accidentally awakens his own repressed lust.

mood: mutually-pining-idiots, miscommunication, immortal-beings-taking-turns-with-their-single-brain-cell, surprisingly-Crowley-has-first-dibs

(16k) Least of All by stereobone / @stereobone

Every so often, Crowley talks to God.

mood: Crowley worrying after Aziraphale through the ages. Beautifully written, fantastic Crowley perspective.

(14k) Wine Fraud and Other Worthy Pursuits by ImprobableDreams900 / @improbabledreams900

When Aziraphale, rare book dealer and part-time wine collector, encounters a bottle of 1844 Château Lafite-Rothschild he suspects isn't all that it claims, he becomes determined to track down the truth.

Unfortunately, the finger of suspicion seems to point at fellow wine collector Anthony J. Crowley, whom Aziraphale is already well on his way to befriending.

mood: suspicious Aziraphale and fledgling friendships

(12k) Laugh When It Sinks In by Tenoko1 / @tenoko1

Crowley stopped them in their trek, slipping his arm from Aziraphale’s grasp to face him, hands on his shoulders. “Are you sure you’re alright? A-are you having, like, a mid-life crisis or something now that Heaven’s cut you loose? You’re worrying me. What’s next? Cherry red sports car?”

mood: making a home for yourself and your charmingly oblivious life partner

(10k) The Original Bar Joke by deathbycoldopen / @deathbycoldopen

The way Crowley saw things, it was all one big joke, with him as the punchline.

mood: drunk!pining, idiots-in-love, jealous!Crowley, straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back moments, drunk!confessions

(8k) did you open up your heart there? by weatheredlaw / @weatheredlaw

Aziraphale and Crowley meet over and over and over again. Aziraphale doesn't know what Crowley is, or why their souls can't seem to be parted, but he is a creature of love, and he's not going to argue with that.

mood: ready to have your heart broken over and over and over?

(7k) The Ark by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

mood: ineffable dystopian sci-fi romance (and yes, I love that this is a mood I can use to describe a good omens fic).

(7k) Where Thou Art by Mottlemoth / @mottlemoth

A late-night bus to London, a few human comforts, and a long overdue confession... nothing will ever be the same for an angel and his demon.

mood: we-might-be-dead-by-tomorrow-love-confessions

(5k) Love Stories by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog

Crowley goes too slow, Aziraphale drinks copious amounts of alcohol, and the bookshop is (very nearly) set on fire. Again.

mood: drinking because you’re an idiot in love (or because you’re in love with an idiot), looking after your drunk mate (only he’s not your mate he’s the love of your life and he’s finally starting to get that)

(4k) A Metaphor Of Some Kind by copperbadge / @copperbadge

After the world doesn't end, Hell gets Crowley and Heaven gets Aziraphale, but not for very long.

mood: witty with great voices, loads of fun

(4k) One Sweet Moment Set Aside For Us by Arej

Tattoos are like stories you write on your skin, and they'll say things for you if you'll let them. Or perhaps prompt other people to say things.

Or, Crowley is just drunk enough to get bold and let his guard down, and it leads to something he never thought he'd be allowed to have.

mood: pining, touching, reverance, love confessions

(3k) Something To Talk About by iamtheenemy (Steph)

Aziraphale jumps to some very inaccurate conclusions.

mood: pining and misconceptions, let’s see if we can make Crowley have an aneurysm.

Wow! Thanks for scrolling this far! You’ve unlocked the secret “I’ll be in my bunk” section of the rec list! ;)

(That’s not to say the fics above don’t have their own hot scenes, or that the fic below are only pwp, but these are the fics where the plot is either focused mostly on sex or the build-up to sex.)

(4k) left with no trace, as if not spoken to by drawlight / @drawlight

Aziraphale's finger brushes against the edge of Crowley's hand. The theater is packed, it is dark. Everyone is watching the stage (no one is watching them). "Do you - ?" "Yeah, angel."

mood: Shakespeare may not have deserved this, but this reader is glad this exists.

(4k) I Tempt, You Thwart... Right? by AEpixie7 / @knightofthesevenfandoms

Crowley accidentally-on-purpose roofies Aziraphale and then feels bad about it because Aziraphale is so high that he can't remember how to sober up.

mood: serious wing kink, drug-induced-loss-of-inhibitions

(6k) Appetite by spunknbite / @spunknbite

Crowley places the macaron against Aziraphale’s lips with more reverence than the angel had thought him capable. “It’s alright, angel. Just take a bite.”

mood: drunk sex, overcoming inhibitions, first time, hand feeding

(6k) The Better Part of Valour by obstinatrix

Said I, a few weeks ago: "I feel there’s also room for e.g. bedsharing fic where the apocalypse has Not Happened and they’ve fallen into queerplatonic (or so they think) bedsharing and Crowley thinks he’s alone in being driven slowly to distraction by it, so he says nothing. Then one night he wakes when it’s still dark, and at first he doesn’t know why, until he hears Aziraphale’s breathing a little raspier than usual, and feels the very slight trembling of the bed."

mood: bed-sharing-with-serious-insecurities-and-misunderstanding

(7k) a treatise on your fingers in my hair by Nimravidae / @tooeasilyconsidered

Crowley sleeps for two days, his hair is a mess, and all it takes is a touch. Like a catalyst. Like striking flint, like a matchstick, like touching fire to gunpowder

mood: all that pent up UST has to go somewhere

(9k) Released by vaguely_concerned / @vaguely-concerned

After they get together Aziraphale has some lingering Ideas about his brief stint in the Bastille; Crowley is happy to help him explore them. Hijinks, as they say, ensue.

mood: french revolution era role play w/ feelings, fantastic dialogue.

(17k) One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan / @seaskystone

Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

mood: flirting and first times

You’re still here? Can’t get enough? Well check out these amazing WIPs!

Slow Show by mia_ugly / @mia-ugly

The Ineffable Pining Showmance AU that no one asked for.

mood: a more accurate summary would be the: ineffable pining showmance AU that no one knew to ask for, and everyone wanted more of. The characterizations in this are amazing. Crowley as a fallen film star is perfection.

Shifting Heaven and Earth by BuggreAlleThis

For most of history, since he narrowly avoiding Falling from Heaven with Lucifer, Crowley has been working for the Angelic Corruption Unit. This ended up being far more boring than he hoped it would be, but things change when he is assigned to go undercover on Earth. His mission is to investigate Aziraphale, an infamous angel who has been on Earth since its Creation, and whom Heaven is sure is guilty of corruption or dereliction of duty.

mood: slow-burn, betrayal, regrets, aziraphale!whump, bamf!aziraphale

the bucket list by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

Still here? :)

My previous good omens recs post can be found here [x]

#good omens fic #good omens recs #good omens fic recs #my fic recs #good omens #ineffable hubands #ineffable husbands fic #good omens fic rec

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

Help Wanted (chapter 3)

Huge thanks again to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who continue to be amazing beta readers!

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3, it really helps

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

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Caduceus loved it when little kids would come into the Blooming Grove. It didn’t happen all that often, most of his customers were students from the academy or the nearby art school, coming in talking about their projects or dissertations, magic runes scrawled up their arms in biro and paint under their fingernails. But every so often, usually on sunny afternoons, parents would come in with strollers or tiny, pudgy hands held securely in their own, coming from the park or the fountain or the markets. The little ones would soon find themselves thoroughly spoiled, pressed with free cookies and cakes to go with their juice, the tall, nice man behind the counter always eager to listen to their nonsense and coo over whatever treasures they clutched. He kept a box of toys over in the corner for them to play with, picture books to read and there was always a napkin within reach when one was needed.

There were some skills you couldn’t shake, even if your siblings were miles away.

He was just helping a little drow toddler clean off some cookie crumbs before his mothers could notice when there was a yelp from behind the counter, accompanied by a loud hissing like some immense dragon.

“Caddy! Help! Emergency, Captain!”

“You don’t have to call me that!” Cad gave the little boy a pat on the head and went running over.

Fjord was being enveloped in bursts of steam that smelled like burnt coffee, belching from the ancient coffee brewer, coughing and waving his arms in an attempt to stave them off, “I told you, Caddy. Helga hates me.”

“She does not hate you,” Cad insisted, wading in and turning dials and pushing levers back up, slapping his palm against the sides in a particular rhythm.

Eventually it worked, the steam abating and the guttural hissing stuttering into silence. There was a final worrying rattle and a small tide of black, steaming, bitter sludge plopped from the dispenser into the waiting cup.

“Ew,” Cad’s ears flattened and his nose wrinkled, “Okay, maybe Helga does hate you. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Fjord sounded indignant but clearly, like Cad, he was barely holding in laughter, “I tried to follow your instructions but I couldn’t remember them and I couldn’t find her manual…”

“She doesn’t have a manual, I bought her at a flea market,” Cad shook his head, slapping the immense bronze machine a few more times before nodding in a satisfied manner, “That should do it. What was the order?”

“Cinnamon coffee,” Fjord scratched at his jaw, still giving Helga a scandalised look.

“Right,” Cad moved to grab the right jars from the small, mismatched army of them that cluttered the bench, “Did you put the cinnamon in with the beans or did you add them separately?”

Fjord paused, eyes widening and jaw slackening in realisation, “Ah. The wrong one.”

Cad chuckled, nudging him lightly with a bony elbow, “Don’t worry. You’ll get it next time.”

For some reason, that seemed to make Fjord shrink a little, like he’d been expecting another step but his foot had found thin air instead. But only for a moment, then he was smiling again.

“Well, it’s my mess so I’m definitely cleaning Helga tonight.”

Cad let him have that, waving him back to work his usual magic with the customers so he could finish the drink. It had been a few months since he’d started working here and Fjord was clearly strongest when he was interacting with people, a relief seeing as conversation had never been Caduceus’ strong suit which he supposed came of growing up in the middle of the forest with only six other family members, talking to plants more than people.

In fact, Cad had learned a lot about Fjord, seeing him nearly every day, working elbow to elbow with him. He hummed while he worked. He didn’t like huge bits of onion in his food but if it was cut up small, he’d never notice. He’d gone to high school with Beau and Jester and become friends with Molly and Caleb and Veth through them. He’d been a sailor since he left school, speaking about the waves the same way Caduceus spoke about the forest. He always had a battered paperback in his bag, bought from a thrift store, even if there’d be no time in the day to read it. He woke up early and stayed up late, living on an amount of sleep that would have Cad wilting like a tulip in the heat. And he really needed a haircut but seemed in no hurry to get one.

Cad found himself filing away every new thing he learned, despite telling himself his crush had been a brief thing, just something silly his brain had spat up in amongst all the stress and change. Fjord was handsome, of course, but he was also becoming his friend on top of his employee which was way more important. He wasn’t going to put him in an awkward position by blushing like a teenager every time he opened his mouth. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

And besides, there was Avantika.

She was rarely in the cafe itself, which Caduceus couldn’t help but be grateful for, as selfish as he felt over it. Even so, her presence was felt almost every day, in the way Fjord would come in muttering under his breath, agitated and red faced, still reliving an argument he’d left behind. Or in the way he’d get calls sometimes that he would get anxious about taking, dropping whatever he was doing in the cafe to answer them coming back apologetic and shamefaced, with a tension in him that hadn’t been there before. Or the way clear up would run late- usually because the two of them were talking and laughing or Fjord was showing him a new song on the radio- and he’d sigh resignedly and head out for the bus stop rather than getting a lift from her. He never said anything directly about it but the pieces weren’t hard to put together. Fjord knew Cad would offer to drive him home and he also knew he wouldn’t be able to say no. And there would be something unacceptable about that, some rule broken by that action that he didn’t understand.

There seemed to be a lot of rules in Fjord’s...whatever he had with Avantika. One of them seemed to not be speaking about her at all, Cad had to base everything on what Fjord said with his muscles. He’d always been able to read that language better than anything, realising what people were trying not to say more than what they were actually saying. And he had learned shortly after that that people didn’t like it when you would state what it was out loud. He’d been working on that since coming to the city.

But no matter how many times he told himself it was none of his business one way or the other, that he needed to keep his broad, flat nose out of his new friend’s affairs, Caduceus did care. He did.

Fortunately, the rest of the Nein also cared and seemed determined to talk to him about it.

Beau and Caleb were in the cafe at the moment, as Caduceus tried to soothe Helga and get her back in working order by thumping his fist very carefully around her casing. They tended not to sit down when it was just the two of them, usually just on a pit stop in between class and a library session. They took different classes, of course, but they studied together which Cad found very strange, as they seemed to constantly bicker whenever they were within five meters of each other. Maybe they really didn’t know anyone else even remotely studious. Their significant others certainly wouldn’t qualify.

Fjord was taking orders, efficiently and smoothly, putting them together with barely a pause. He’d really been getting good at this, even in such a short space of time. Cad could see why he’d been so good on ships. Any task he was given, he threw himself into it fully until he’d mastered it and could move through it confidently. Cad barely ever had to show him something twice.

Thinking that he had this in hand- it was still an hour away from lunchtime, they were still in the ebb rather than the rush- Cad slipped over to Caleb and Beau, where they were leaning against the tall stools up against the counter, probably already arguing about something complicated to do with magic. Cad didn’t understand what there was for them to learn about magic for so many years. You just thought about it, asked nicely and it happened?

“Morning,” he rumbled congenially, setting their cups down in front of them. They came so often, he’d just started taking their own travel cups and filling them. Beau’s was scuffed and scratched from being shoved deep into her backpack with all her stuff, the logo of the Cobalt Soul still just about visible, clearly a freebie from her orientation nearly three years ago. Caleb’s was covered in cartoon kitty paw prints. Both were filled with black, incredibly strong study session grade coffee brew. Cad refused to sell them more than three cups a day, five cups a day during finals week.

“Hey, Cad,” Beau was bouncing on the balls of her feet, like she was shaking out all of her energy before having to stay still for an extended period of time.

“Good morning Caduceus,” Caleb had eyes only for his coffee, making grabby hands towards it before Cad had even passed it over.

“Only three, remember,” the firbolg warned him, not liking the look on his face, “I am keeping track.”

“I know,” Caleb said meekly, trying to look restrained and a little less like an addict, just taking one small sip before lowering the cup, as if to prove he could.

“Saw Fjord nearly send your coffee machine up in smoke,” Beau leaned a bandaged elbow on the counter, tipping her cup in the direction of the half orc, now chatting companionably with an elderly dragonborn woman as he put her granola bowl together.

“Easy mistake to make and no harm done,” Cad smiled in the same direction, just to himself, “He’s actually doing brilliantly. Starting to forget how I managed without him.”

Cad’s gaze was elsewhere, being much less subtle than he thought, so he missed the glance exchanged between Beau and Caleb.

“So, uh…” Beau leaned forward, bringing Cad’s eyes back her way, “You and Fjord, you get on well, huh?”

Cad was frowning over that, confused as to why she’d ask that when it was obvious, when they were both interrupted by a chime from Fjord’s apron pocket. The apron Cad had made him, done exactly to match his height, with waves stitched along the hem. He’d been delighted with it.

It went just as it always did. Fjord seemed to shrink in on himself a little, jaw tensing, teeth closing on his lower lip. He gave the woman her change quickly, eyes darting to Cad, gesturing apologetically and pointing at his pocket questioningly. Cad gave him a wave, there was no one else at the counter anyway.

Now Beau’s face was dark as thunder and even Caleb had a disapproving set to his jaw, like he’d swallowed something bitter other than his coffee.

“How many times a day does he get calls like that?” he asked, watching Fjord’s back disappear around the corner to the back room.

Cad shrugged, “A few. More some days than others. I’m not counting.” It wasn’t strictly a lie. He was trying not to count.

Beau muttered something into her cup that sounded unkind. When Caleb gave her a look she threw her hands in the air, nearly sloshing coffee on the wooden floor, “What? You know I’m right! She’s checking up on him like he’s a naughty kid!”

“I am aware,” Caleb sniffed, “And I don’t like it any more than you do. But we said we weren’t going to say that kind of stuff when he’s around.”

“Oh come on, he can’t hear us,” Beau rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

Cad looked between the two of them anxiously, already feeling guilty but too curious to go and do something else, “So...you guys know about his girlfriend? Avantika?”

“Girlfriend is a strong word,” Caleb allowed, while Beau snorted derisively in the background, “More like...force of mutual destruction. Part time nemesis. Live in life ruiner.”

Caduceus wrinkled his nose, “Oh…”

“They’ve been like this since high school,” Beau’s lip curled, “They both got deep into this really dodgy patron, you know, how most people do at that age? Neither of them had a great childhood and it kind of just happens that way. Fjord started to have second thoughts once he became friends with us but she kept dragging him down into it. We all thought they were done when Fjord signed up with the Tide’s Breath, the ship he worked on? But now he’s home and they’ve just fallen right back into making each other miserable and making our lives shitty into the bargain!”

“That doesn’t sound...healthy…” Cad said slowly, taking his tail in his hands and wringing it anxiously.

“It’s not!” Beau slapped Caleb’s arm, “See! Cad gets it!”

“Ow! I’m on your side!” Caleb protested, rubbing his arm, “We all are!”

“You’re ridiculous, I barely touched you.”

Cad sucked in a breath, “People sometimes do things that don’t make sense because they don’t see that it’s hurting them. Or because something else is hurting them more and listening to someone else is easier. Even if what they’re telling you is bad.”

That got him an eerily twin set of concerned looks. Cad realised that maybe that should have been something he kept to himself, one of those things that made conversations awkward.

“We sort of get why he’s doing it,” Beau eventually said, slowly, “I mean, we’re basically Team Gone Through Bad Shit. Doesn’t mean we like it.”

“No one does,” Cad said quietly, eyes casting down to his tail, still clutched tight in his long fingers, “But saving people from themselves is difficult.”

“Hence why they’re still together,” Caleb murmured, “We know we can’t just go telling Fjord all of this without upsetting him and making things worse.” At that, he gave Beau a very significant look. She gave him the finger in return.

When Caleb ignored it, she sighed and hopped down from the stool, “We need to head out. Just...help us keep an eye on him?”

Cad glanced over. Fjord was back behind the counter, tapping his fingers restlessly on the wood, looking red faced and anxious. Clearly the conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. Cad thought of all the times Fjord would look uncomfortable when he reassured him or instantly forgave an error or mistake. The way he’d get awkward about compliments, like he didn’t know how to hold them or where to put them. The way he needed to hold his overgrown hair back with a band but every day his tusks were freshly filed down, right to where it had to be painful, just so they wouldn’t be visible past his lip.

He couldn’t have a crush on him, it wouldn’t be fair. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t care about him. Far too late for that.

“Of course I will,” he said softly.

Caduceus was starting to enjoy closing up more than any other part of the day. Everything slowed down, there seemed to be more space to breathe and the whole evening stretched out in front of them, feeling like forever. And it would suddenly be just him and Fjord in the quiet, able to choose their favourite songs on the speakers and talk across the freshly wiped down tables and sing and joke.

It had started off tentative, back in the first few days. Neither of them were hugely eager to talk about the usual ice breaking questions like family, home, where they both were before now. Instead they’d talked in the present, about their interests. Cad had talked for hours about his rooftop beehive before realising he was rambling, except Fjord had still been listening intently, almost as if he didn’t care how much time had gone by. Fjord talked about how he was getting back into the battered old acoustic guitar he played, whatever book he was reading, whatever podcast he was listening to.

But, as it often went, talk about small things became talk about big things without really meaning to.

Tonight, Fjord was wiping down the tables and Cad was moving from plant to plant, watering contentedly. As he worked, the half orc was explaining some interesting historical magic experiments he’d been reading about in a book Caleb had lent him.

“...I used to think that kind of stuff was so interesting when I was younger. How people know what they know now, how all these big ideas became fact, y’know? Used to have all these daydreams about being at the academy and seeing the places all this big thinking happened…”

Cad looked over his shoulder, interested, “You want to apply to the academy?”

And then suddenly Fjord was tense, awkward, ducking his eyes to focus on the already clean mosaic table top, acting like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

“I mean, I used to. When I was younger. A lot younger.”

Cad felt the urge to back off, the sensation that they were suddenly standing on some kind of line. But he couldn’t help but feel letting it go would be breaking the promise he’d made to Beau.

“You still could,” he said quietly, “They take students of all ages.”

Fjord still didn’t look up, “I, uh...I don’t think that’s the path for me anymore. I mean, when would I fit it in now? Not gonna be long before I’m back out on the ocean.”

Cad frowned delicately. He had mentioned that a few times, the fact that this was temporary, a stop gap until he found hire on another ship. But there was always something so rehearsed about the way he said it. Like he was copying someone else’s words.

“Paths can change,” Cad allowed after a pause, “But sometimes you can think that way but old loves come back, ones you thought you’d outgrown. And they’re stronger than ever.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience?” The attempt to change the subject was obvious but Cad let him have it. He wasn’t looking to make him uncomfortable.

He smiled softly, fingers gently brushing the almost silky leaves of his yucca plant, “My whole family worships Melora, the Wildmother. Have you heard of her?”

“I don’t think so,” the bridge of his nose scrunched up adorably when he was thinking.

“Not many people have,” Cad reassured him, “She’s mostly for the quiet places, where nature’s grown over the scars in the earth. Places like where I grew up...she was practically another family member growing up, you could feel her everywhere. She’s soft and gentle and kind and there’s nothing she can’t heal.”

Fjord’s expression softened, “She sounds nice.”

“She is,” Cad chuckled wryly, “And I was raised to be her cleric from the moment I was born.”

“Really?” Fjord’s eyebrows shot up and Caduceus could understand why, even as he cringed internally. He’d never mentioned having any kind of magic, he never used it around the cafe except in ways too small to notice. It was quite deliberate. Every time he reached for the well of power inside himself, the quiet place where he could smell damp moss and fresh grass and feel it under his feet no matter where he was, he’d feel a tug of homesickness. Even with the long conversations he’d had with the Wildmother, one sided conversations where he was answered by breezes and bird calls, even with his certainty that he had her support, his magic had a bitter taste to it these days.

“Really,” Cad murmured, hoping Fjord wouldn’t press the matter, “And there was a good few years where I resented the hell out of it.”

“Oh,” Fjord’s eyes widened.

Cad smiled coyly, “I had a full teenage tantrum. Pouting, breaking things, yelling. No one in my family yells… I made a complete fool of myself. It was a week out from my cleric initiation and suddenly I was tired of having all of my decisions made for me and wanted the world to know it.”

“How old were you?” Fjord grinned.

“Thirty five. Just a kid.”

“Oh…so what happened?”

“One night, I got it in my head that I was going to run away,” Cad turned back to his plant, practically petting it, “I packed a bag, climbed out of my window in the middle of the night...I told myself I was never coming back, without so much as a goodbye.”

Fjord had abandoned his table entirely, looking at Caduceus with his full attention, “Really?”

“Yep,” the memory of his own stupidity still made the fur on his neck stand up, “And I would have done it, if I hadn’t taken a wrong turn. I’d lived in those woods all my life and somehow I took a wrong turn, tell me how that happens without divine intervention. But all of a sudden, I wasn’t on the path anymore. I was in this beautiful clearing, waterfall gently bubbling...the place I was meant to take my initiation in a few hours, the very thing I was supposed to be running away from. And it occured to me that I’d been feeling all of this anger and sadness and confusion, it had been tearing me up inside for longer than I’d even realised...and I’d never talked to anyone about it. I couldn’t tell my family, not when they’d had this image of me as their perfect, devoted son. So...maybe I could tell her.”

“And you did?” Fjord sounded a million miles away, Cad lost in his own memory.

“I did. I talked until my voice ran out, until the sun came up. I told her everything and afterwards I felt so...so clean. People had been telling me all my life to follow the Wildmother and I had, because they’d told me to. That night was the night I decided to follow her because I chose to. I took my oath then and there.”

“Wow,” Fjord murmured, “I can’t imagine feeling that way about...anything, really.”

Cad was about to ask how come Fjord had his own patron then, before realising he’d have to explain how he knew that. And then realising he probably wouldn’t like the answer.

Instead he smiled, “It’s always waiting for you, Fjord. For all of us.”

That brought a laugh, the kind he only did when he wasn’t thinking because it would show his filed tusks, “That’s a nice idea, Caddy.”

He grinned back, moving to the next plant, caring for each of them as devotedly as he could manage, each one a growing, green prayer, “It is. Even nicer for being true...the Wildmother helped me realise I wasn’t happy at home, years after that night, when I was actually ready to make that decision. She brought me here, to this cafe and to the life I have now. She helped me not feel so lost. And there’s something out there that will help you feel the same, Fjord. Maybe it’s the academy. Maybe it’s your next ship.”

Maybe it’s here.

The words were on his lips without thinking, desperate to be spoken, straining to tumble into the air between them.

Caduceus swallowed them back. It wouldn’t be fair. And there was no guarantee that saying it would make it true.

“Thanks, Caddy. For sharing that with me,” Fjord’s voice seemed different somehow, in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe he was just tired.

“You’re welcome… you know you can talk to me anytime, right? About whatever you want... doesn’t have to be work stuff or, um…I mean anything.” Cad winced at himself. How had he gone from being so articulate to tripping over his own feet when he wanted to ask a simple question?

Fjord seemed on the verge of his usual tension when help was offered but then he seemed to shake it off, like rainwater, “Thanks. That means a lot, Caddy.”

Cad resisted the urge to clap his hands. He’d done exactly as Beau asked and made Fjord smile into the bargain.

“Why don’t you clean out Helga? That might make her like you. I can finish up the plants and tables.”

Fjord seemed grateful for the chance to move, like just accepting help had filled him with restless energy, “Oh, I’ll do that! She’s going to end up loving me, I swear.”

“I’m sure,” Cad chuckled quietly as he jumped up and headed for the counter.

He’d make sure they were wrapped up in time for him to get a ride home. One personal leap a day was enough, he felt.

Cad moved to the next plant, a terrarium full of mushrooms he’d taken from the grove, already softly starting to glow as the light dimmed. Just for a moment, he placed his palms on the smooth curve of the glass, the green luminescence filtering through the gaps between his fingers like he held a heart in his hands.

And all he could smell was fresh grass, new fallen rain on green things. He felt his nerves alight with power he’d had inside himself since that promise he’d made. And it felt right.

Cad smiled, leaning close and whispering just in case, “I’m going to keep an eye on him...but maybe you could too?”

The mushrooms immediately grew brighter in his hands, far brighter than they should be for the time of day.

Caduceus took that as a yes.

#fjorclay #teahaw #modern au #coffee shop au #toxic relationships #also good excuse to write my fave empire siblings #fjord #caduceus clay #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #critical role #cr fic

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ardenttheories · 4 years

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If you don't mind me asking, what makes you a Page of Heart? What made you come to that conclusion? I'm always curious about someone's reasonings for such matters and would like to hear yours! But only if you're okay with sharing, I know it's a very personal question!

I’m more than happy to answer this!

So, I should probably begin by saying that, personally, figuring out my Classpect was... hard. I have a tendency to put up fronts for various people in different situations, which made pinning down my actual personality difficult. I was at a point, a few years back, where I couldn’t say what my aesthetic was, what my style was, what my sona looked like, what my favourite colour was - because I genuinely couldn’t settle down on any one thing that I liked. I had no idea if blue represented me best, or orange, or if I liked the way a singular sona represented me.

It was a point in my life where I genuinely didn’t understand Heart enough to figure out who I was. I overcompensated by trying to position myself as specific things for people - a father-figure for my best friend, a stoic and capable partner for my boyfriend - and I actually relied really heavily on fictional characters to base my sense of identity around.

So, this made actually determining my Classpect part of my journey to figuring out the real one, in a weirdly paradoxical way. I spent so long trying to Classpect myself based on these facets of my personality that I never noticed the facets existed to begin with - yet, when I actually looked closer at them, the Page of Heart just... clicked.

Furthermore, I tended not to consider myself, and had a habit of letting myself suffer or let my own issues boil up in my desperation to be good for other people. I self-sacrificed for no good reason, and it tended to mean two big things happened:

- People came to me with every little issue they had, parked their anxieties with me, and left me fretting over them for the rest of the day because I didn’t realise they just needed to vent, and weren’t in actual danger (the part of a Page of Heart that just misunderstands situations and events, and has an incorrect Emotional response)

- I exploded on people over incredibly minor things further down the line, almost consistently when I was at my least emotionally stable, to the point that my boyfriend began to fear my montly (which always fucks me up) and my best friend begged me to see a therapist (the part of a Page of Heart that tends to overreact)

Though, to be fair, I’ve always struggled figuring out emotional consistency (which hits home on how Pages of Heart give disproportionate emotional responses). I tend to flit back and forth between extremes, which has led to... a lot of negative situations; me chasing after boys, screeching, for something as minor as calling me a “maneater”, or me having a severe mood drop after being cut off over something I was talking about, even if it wasn’t intentional.

This is what made me realise, after some thought, that I probably wasn’t a Mind Player. Heart is all about Impulsivity and Emotion, and I was definitely showing that over the concept of Logic and Distance. I was too Passionate, too Illogical, even though at first I thought I was just someone who maybe struggled with their Mind and ghosted Heart.

The problem was, Logic has never been my issue. I can be very Logical. I can think things through to a fault, I can even overthink, I can analyse and pick apart and tell you exactly what was going through my Mind at that exact point; it’s just that my Emotions were what overruled. It’s the Heart that I focused on most, and the part that I struggled to contain.

Pages of Heart start with a Lack of Heart - start with almost no understanding or power over Heart - and then get better and better at it as they go through life.

This is what pegged me into the idea of something like a Page, rather than a Bard and Prince. Because I was good at Heart-stuff, just not all the time.

I’m really good at figuring out peoples’ Emotions. I can read a situation pretty well (though it’s taken time for me to figure that out, and at first I almost always got it wrong), and I can pretty easily Classpect people with a fair amount of accuracy (which has come from me analysing people down to the ground and building up my own understanding of Heart over several years).

I accurately guessed what a new friend’s favourite animal, colour, and style was, despite not having spoken to them for long and having had no prior information about them. This, compared to several years ago, when I couldn’t tell my boyfriend what his favourite colour was even though he actively reblogged yellow things all the time.

I had a tendency to try and shove my nose into every problem a friend had because I wanted to be helpful. I thought I knew how to fix everything, knew how I could be the one to save the day, and I loved it whenever I was even vaguely right - though most of the time I was almost painfully wrong. I got into arguments with friends who just wanted to vent because I tried too hard to be empathetic and to help, or I related back to myself too much as an example.

I’m much better at that now. I can usually diffuse a situation without much issue, can pick up on when something’s wrong with most people, and have a much easier time connecting Emotionally now than I used to. I find that my advice tends to hit home to people more now that I can understand them and their needs better - and people tend to open up to me more now, too! But I’ve also gotten better at setting up my own boundries, and that... that helps a lot.

I think it’s also safe to say that I was a bit... super-obsessed with my likes and my passions.

I know, for sure, that I’ve pretended to be obsessed with something just to try and validate my own feelings. To connect that flimsy sense of identity, I’ve claimed that I love puppetry when I know nothing about it, or that I adore horses when at the time I was probably more connected to cats or rabbits.

I also know that I have been obsessed with things to the point that throughout my life, I’ve always had that one main fandom hyperfixation, and pretty much nothing else besides. I still like other things, of course - I just can’t get into them as much as that one hyperfixation I have. That, though, never stopped me from pretending I knew a bunch about Transformers for a friend.

All of what I’ve said above hits pretty much every point on Dahni’s Page of Heart analysis and Sylph of Hope’s Page of Heart analysis. I used these two sources to help me figure out my Classpect (with the assistance of my boyfriend, so that I wasn’t falling into the Page trappings of only picking up parts of my Identity), and especially reading Dahni’s post, it all just seemed to click.

My journey was to learn to be “balanced and sincere with their emotions, their affections, and with themselves”, to be “passionate, sincere and truly honest”. I have been fluctuating through such extremes throughout my life, with very little honesty towards myself or my identity - finally reading that, accepting that I have to settle down, to learn, and to take care of myself before I can truly help others? It’s made understanding who I am so much easier. It’s made being better for my friends, for this blog, for my family, so much easier.

Essentially, it felt like the challenge fit. And it’s a challenge I’m still facing, for sure - one that’s in no way been easy, and one I’ve definitely fucked up on a few times along the way - but I know that I’m becoming a better person now than I used to be by facing it.

I know my Classpect, now. I know the name I want to go by. I know the way I want to be seen. I know my favourite colour, my favourite animal, and I can say with some degree of certainty that I know what my aesthetic is. This improvement has meant so much to me. I have a stable sense of me in a way I didn’t have even just a few years ago.

That’s how I know I’m a Page of Heart, I think. I vibed with it, it explained parts of me I didn’t think anything really could, and the challenge has made me a better person.

#long post//#ardenttheories #classpect analysis #windy15

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impishnature · 4 years

Text

Feather Fall (Part 1)

AO3 Fandom: Good Omens Rating: T+ Summary: What is an Angel without a connection to Heaven? A/N: @sightkeeper asked a while back for Aziraphale whump with the line ‘Blood? Oh it’s not mine’ and I wrote 18k words from just that. Warnings: Thoughts/talk of falling. Graphic violence (later). Panic attacks, blood, self harm. Some of these warnings are for another part but I’m putting them all here.

It had been three months since they had saved the world.

Three whole months. Ninety days. Two thousand, one hundred and sixty hours and counting.

And he was counting. Minutes, seconds, days, weeks, it all bled into one as he waited for something to happen- because for some reason it didn't feel like they had saved the world at all.

There had been no joyous occasions, no fanfare or parade. No celebrations except their own minimal affair. Just the peaceful, quiet hum of life continuing on it's path, never knowing just how close they had come to seeing it all crumble around them.

Well that, and the score of snarling angels and demons on their tails.

He could almost understand the demons vicious rage, but the angels? His family? How could they so blindly follow old texts that no longer truly aligned with what the world and humanity had evolved into? How could they sit idly by and watch it all burn, content to fight in a war with no real meaning or end other than complete annihilation? Was the world that the Almighty had created, truly just collateral damage in the wider scheme of things? Did none of them see the contradictions? The hypocrisy? How did their faith override their reason so easily?

And beneath all the questions, all the unfulfilled answers, there was a deeper ache; yearning, cold and hollow. It stung deep in his chest, pulsing pitifully with every fluttering heartbeat- a dagger thrust there by those who should have understood him, should have stood beside him.

Instead, they had tried to kill him with hellfire.

All for choosing humanity over an unjustifiable war.

All for asking the questions no one else seemed to be asking.

...Had he been so wrong?

Aziraphale sat, lost in his own thoughts, his book forgotten on his lap. It threatened to slip off him onto the floor at a moment's notice that he wasn't even present enough to feel or hear happening. It had been three months. Three months and the only contact his brethren had had was to try and kill him. He'd hoped that it would all blow over, that they'd see the error in their ways and realise that he and Crowley had made the best decision for everyone.

It was wishful thinking, he knew that now.

Neither side would ever admit they were wrong, nor admit defeat. It wasn't in their nature.

A human hundreds of years ago had seen the truth, but it had taken watching his own body be dragged up to heaven for him to accept his fate.

Thankfully, he hadn't been himself then, nor had Crowley been soaked in holy water as the other side had decided. But there had been a hint of barely quelled fury in Crowley's eyes when he returned that let him know that it was not just the actions or hellfire that had spoken out loudly at that meeting. He knew Crowley would never tell him, he'd sugarcoat it or brush it off, but then again he didn't really need to know what had been said. The dagger in his heart still twisted at the implications regardless, that deep rooted sadness that refused to leave.

Aziraphale tried to shake himself in his seat, the thoughts a dark cloud that needed to be swatted away. He brushed at his chest subconsciously, as if there was a physical item embedded there that he could tug out and be done with. It didn't matter what had been said. They wanted him dead, plain and simple. And when that hadn't worked, they'd cut him off.

He hadn't realised until then what true freedom tasted like.

For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased, his mind slipping to warmer thoughts. It had been blissful at first. He'd felt lighter, brighter, like a weight had lifted from him, chains that he hadn't even realised he was wearing crashing to the floor. He no longer had to hide himself, to dim his light to quell questions and curiosity at his actions. He no longer had to subject himself to their whims even when he disagreed, to bite his tongue and smile dutifully at every snide remark or reprimand. And best of all; he could go about his life in peace, spend his days with Crowley without fear of what management might say or think, because none of them had any right to say anything anymore. They may judge him, but without the fear of consequences looming above his head, what really was there to stop him from giving into temptations and living life, however he saw fit?

He was already dead to them, or he would be if they had gotten there way, so, what more could he really do to anger them more than they already were?

But then the doubts had spread.

It had started as a small voice, that hint of sadness, that he couldn't quite escape. And then like a creeping vine it had taken hold. It grew and grew, tendrils reaching into every crevice of his skull, strangling the happiness that he had thought he finally deserved.

Aziraphale swallowed, his eyes open and unseeing as his shoulders raised defensively around his neck. He hunched forward, arms gripping tight to his knees, a bid to protect himself as the cold seeped back through his lungs and the dagger pushed deeper still.

His family had deserted him.

As much as he disagreed with them, as much as he was glad to no longer be under their scrutiny, it still didn't feel quite right to be completely isolated from Heaven. To have their full and unabated disappointment echoing through the silence of a disconnected phone line.

Was this what it felt like to fall? The ache of loss that he couldn't control or reason away. Grieving over something he hadn't even truly wanted, but now that it was ripped entirely from his grasp, never to be his again...

The thought sent a shudder down his spine and he propelled himself from his seat without thought, giving into the need to move, to pace. The book crashed to the ground at his feet, to be stumbled upon and kicked away with little remorse. Shame and repulsion slid heavily into his gut; a meal he wished he hadn't eaten and put him off eating ever again, whilst guilt and fear fizzled through his extremities, tingling down his fingers to keep them restlessly twining together as he paced.

It was nauseating and disturbingly unfamiliar, as if a beast had taken up residence inside his core and refused to be abated until he begged for forgiveness for crimes he hadn't even committed.

It roared to life inside of him, it fed on the panic and the paranoia, the doubts and the disorientation. It didn't care who was right or who was wrong, only that he reach a resolution and fast. It whispered insidiously in his ear, voice shifting between Gabriel's and Her's until his heart was clattering against his ribs and beating in his throat, and no amount of reminding himself that he didn't need a heartbeat would halt it.

You need to fix this. You are the fault, the issue. Heaven's closed its gates to you, how long until that is irreversible? What do your opinions matter against that?

Your fall is imminent- that is, if it hasn't started already...

"Don't be ridiculous." The words ground out of him amidst gritted teeth and an uncooperative tongue. The voices hushed against the sound, the beast curious and patient at his interruption. The blood pumping through his ears receded as his own commanding voice took centre stage and pushed the fear back in its place, down to the depths where it belonged. Or perhaps it wasn't his own voice, perhaps it was the accompanying shocked hiss, a spark of gold in the darkness, that lit up his brain and soothed his racing heart.

We picked our side. We picked the human's side. We did the right thing. Heaven and Hell are against us, surely that's got to mean something?

"I'm not falling." Aziraphale stood up straight, closing his eyes for a second to take a deep breath before glaring out at the open air, as if his aggressors were there in the room with him. "I would know. Crowley refuses to talk about his fall, and I will be damned if we place this- this- tiff at the same level as his suffering."

It was abhorrent, disrespectful, that his mind would put the two anywhere near one another.

The beast was subdued for a moment, irritated but conceding. It shrunk in size and let him breathe easier as clarity and logic took over his thought patterns.

...The peace didn't last long.

Her voice, quiet and questioning, echoed past all the others. It created space where it needed, growing in form and consistency, engulfing him in its reverberations.

How would you know?

"I'm sorry?" The words stuttered out of him before he could stop them. A puff of irritation fizzled through his chest, his hands clenching into fists.

What was he doing apologising to an imaginary voice? It wasn't real. It was just his mind playing tricks on him.

She wasn't here. She wasn't talking to him.

And if She was, he hoped that he would have enough in him not to shrink at Her presence, that he could ask all the questions that, over the years of silence, had begun to sit and multiply at the back of his throat every time he thought of Her.

His resolve didn't stop the flow of the voice though. The one that slid across the surface of his brain and mingled with his own thoughts until he wasn't sure if it was Her or him that spoke them into reality.

It was pervasive, humoured by his ignorance and strengthened by his doubts.

How would you know what falling feels like?

Aziraphale swallowed past the lump in his throat. A strangely hysterical part of his mind was proud of himself for having the foresight to close the shop early that day. Humans weren't all that fond of people having fights with themselves nor imaginary people. "I don't... I've seen it, heard about it. The Fall. They fell from- it wasn't a slow process. It's never been a slow process. There was never any doubt that they had fallen."

Well, that was then. No one's fallen in millennia. There was also never any doubt that they had lost sight, that they had lost faith. They fell for their reasons, you're falling for yours.

A sharper voice grated through, Her voice opening up the floodgates for it to return from the depths he'd cast it to. It was darker, less hypothetical, and more disparaging as it snarled at him.

You never could do anything right. Why would this be any different?

He was suddenly finding it hard to breathe, the need for oxygen to unnecessary lungs somehow desperate and required. The room was closing in on him, shrinking into a suffocating prison built purposefully for him. Each book, each shadow, opened another set of eyes that dispassionately watched his descent, judging him for every little action, every thought, every word, every minuscule movement-

Her voice slipped through the soft breeze, sending goosebumps trailing across his flesh and the hairs raising on the back of his neck.

Perhaps every day you make the choice to fall just that little bit further...

A soft clatter dragged some of his awareness back into the room. His eyes focused in and out on a small button rolling across the floor away from him with no recognition or recollection of where it had come from.

It wasn't until there was the remains of a bow tie held too tightly in his hand that he realised he'd been tugging at his collar in an effort to get his breathing under control.

And one day you'll realise with a shock that you haven't been an angel for a very long time.

"Stop it."

The cacophony of voices abruptly left him, like he had snapped the lid shut on whatever horrific chest they had manifested from.

Aziraphale stood in the deserted silence, breathing hitching and twisting as the shift took him by surprise and left him hollow, his own voice the only one now flying around his head in a wisp of fear and paranoia born from no one but himself.

He wasn't sure if he had accidentally miracled the others away or if this was some new harsh punishment set out by his old management.

At least, when the voices hadn't been his own he could pretend that this wasn't all his own doing.

Your choice, your choice- your fault. Can't blame anyone else for this. You stepped over the edge, you made the choice, no one else.

"This is... absurd." He swallowed, his patience and practicality paper thin and fragile against the onslaught, but still there, a thread of sanity in a tumultuous sea. "Utterly ridiculous." Every word added a layer, a knot, another steadying, gratifying breath to his heaving lungs. "You're fine, for Go- goodness- for goodness sake."

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

"We did the right thing."

Silence rang back at him across the empty room, disapproval and condemnation cloying the air like a stagnant smell that refused to budge. It didn't matter if they could hear him, not really, not when the answer would always be the same.

So many eyes upon him but so desperately alone.

"We did." If only he could believe it himself without a shadow of a doubt- without thinking about how many of his compatriots disagreed, how much pain they were happy to put him through because of his decision- perhaps then the dam would break and the fear of holy retribution would finally leave him. "It was the right thing to do."

The silence remained. His new unwanted companion. How many times had he wished for freedom from their scrutiny? Yet now as the feeling of being watched dissipated into the ether, he couldn't help but feel that every utterance from his mouth turned another spectator away from him, taking a piece of his grace with them.

Turning their backs, one by one. He didn't want their forgiveness- but he needed it all the same.

"It has to be."

Whether or not he wanted it, he was alone. No longer watched, no longer listened to.

He could do as he pleased.

As long as he was happy to fall for it.

Aziraphale moved. He wasn't sure where or what he was doing at first, just that there was a sharp need at his core to do something. His common sense and logical approach just weren't cutting it today. No amount of philosophical reading or prayer could fix the anxious storm that brewed inside his skull. He'd been able to tamper it down before, even forget its existence when in the company of a rather distracting friend, but it had always returned when he was alone, always bubbled back up, thick and oozing through every pore as if to suffocate him.

So now it was time for another approach.

Before he knew it, he found himself in front of a mirror, one that he wasn't even sure had been there before this very moment, though he didn't have the mental resources to really think that through at present. It was also rather reminiscent to one he had seen in someone else's apartment, but again- now was not the time to think of such things. Instead he found himself staring at his reflection, inspecting it, almost as if he would be able to see the difference his actions had caused. As if he would see some kind of blemish that would prove his fears correct, or crush them to non-existence with little fanfare, if only he could prove to himself that all was as it should be.

A rather optimistic and unrealistic notion perhaps, but one that he couldn't help but hold onto.

In reality, he wasn't really sure what he was looking for.

He was unkempt that was for sure.

Aziraphale stared into his own almost unseeing eyes, filled with a strange sheen of dread that he wasn't used to seeing. His chest was rising and falling in sharp bursts, his breathing still quickening under the stress he'd managed to put himself under. He tried to brush past the fear, ignore it for the time being, and instead stare deep and wide eyed into his own gaze for a hint of- something. Something new, something wrong, something- well, different.

The watery gleam to his expression may not be familiar, nor the pasty pallor of his skin, but it was still undeniably him.

He gave a soft, long, exhale, some modicum of certainty seeping into his system.

As much as he had a soft spot for a certain serpent's eyes... they were hardly subtle.

If he really were changing, he would expect a rather more dramatic change in his appearance, something that would say 'beware of me!' to humans.

If anything his reflection looked rather more human than it had any right to. With it's soft tremors and heavy breathing, hair wild and matted from fingers he didn't recall running through locks. With his shoulders hunched defensively around his ears as if to weather any storms thrown at him from the outside world.

Not to mention his suit.

A soft noise of distaste clicked across his tongue as his crumpled suit finally made it's way into his vision, taking his attention gladly from rather more important matters. He tried to straighten himself out; dusting off his shoulders, brushing down his sleeves and tugging at the hem. It was a frustrating task, one that usually took only moments, but for some reason was proving rather futile as he twisted and tugged to get his appearance back in order.

It was only when he gave up with a soft huff and went to the final task of straightening his collar, that he finally noted the distinct lack of a familiar bow tie, fingers flitting over non-existent material without thought.

He shook himself, ignoring the drop in his stomach at not noticing a rather vital part of his outward appearance. Pushed down the clamouring voices to check- check again, check everything, you missed something, you're wrong. He didn't need his bow tie, he wasn't going anywhere. Aziraphale continued his ministrations around his collar as nonchalantly as possible, as if he hadn't noticed anything amiss at all. All he had to do was fasten his top button and he'd be able to look at his reflection again and all would be well-

Oh.

His top button was missing.

His fingertips ran over the yielding fabric, thumbing the hole on one side and pulling perplexedly at the few stray threads on the other where a button had once been.

When had that- oh. Oh, he remembered now.

Aziraphale swallowed, closing his eyes. He felt his adam's apple bob against his knuckles as he tried to think straight. He'd read about this, hadn't he? Humans had all kinds of words for these situations. Where panic made the mind go blank to the outside world. When just being inside a struggling body was hard enough to cope with, let alone spending energy and effort on anything else.

The only thing was- he'd never heard of an angel suffering similarly.

Then again, he'd never heard of a demon being afflicted either.

Having said that, though... He wasn't sure he'd heard of any angels or demons going against the grain quite like they had, at least not since the Fall.

He found himself laughing without intention, a mildly hysterical chuckle that rattled through him until he wasn't sure if they were morphing into sobs.

Who was he fooling? No one had ever done what he and Crowley had done before. No one had attempted the things they had achieved. Why on Earth did he think that anything that happened next would have any semblance to what had come before?

All the research, and all the time in the world, would never be able to prepare them for whatever came next.

Because no one had any inclining as to what would come next.

They were all completely in the dark and there was no light coming.

They had to make their own way from now on, their own choices- and whether they liked it or not, the other angels and demons were in the same boat as him and Crowley.

Just like the humans.

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes finding his own reflection once more, not even comprehending the moisture clinging to his eyelashes and leaving glistening marks down his cheeks.

Just like humanity.

His laughter bubbled up again, this time hollow but accepting. Humanity had dealt with this for as long as they could remember. Faith and belief only got you so far, the rest was a choice you made every day. To be good, to do good- there was nothing stopping them, not really, only their own thoughts and feelings and those around them.

Every day they dealt with the knowledge that they truthfully- knew nothing at all.

And that was OK.

It had to be OK for them.

And now, it had to be OK for everyone else as well.

None of them had ever known Her plan. Not really.

They'd hoped they understood, they'd hoped She wasn't setting them up for failure.

Because why would She?

Her and Her plan- they were ineffable. That's all there was to it.

But then on the other hand- they were ineffable.

How on Earth could they ever live up to a plan that they had no way of comprehending? How could they follow those distinct orders without knowing why, or how, or even whether they were following them correctly?

Maybe She hadn't set them up to fail, but at the same time, She had doomed them to failure.

They would forever fall short of Her expectations. Because none of them knew what Her expectations were.

Perhaps, they weren't all that different from humanity, after all.

"Different..."

The word left him in an almost reverent hush.

There was one rather glaring difference.

Between humans, angels and demons.

He just wasn't sure he was ready to visualise the outcome of his transgressions.

"Stop being ridiculous." He growled, his teeth clamping together as his watery gaze hardened to ice. Self-loathing was bubbling up thick and fast, eclipsing all other thoughts and feelings as it heaved and seethed throughout his frame, it twisted his earlier tremors into something almost unrecognisable, more forceful, sharper in his twitching muscles.

No other angel or demon would have this much trouble looking at themselves in a mirror.

Not unless they had something to hide.

And he didn't. He didn't-

A soft low swish muffled and dampened the electric air around him. Warmth encircled his frame, his wings unfurling from the ether to rest either side of him, downy and light against the fabric of his suit. Feathers brushed against his neck as, just for a moment, he let himself be cocooned in their embrace, soothed by his own heavenly essence when no one else would embrace him or remind him that he wasn't alone.

Aziraphale let himself stand in that tranquil darkness for a few moments. Let himself breathe in the subtle smell that lingered from the ether they were kept in. He hardly ever got them out and the brush of nostalgia that the sensations brought forth was sustaining him in that instance, reminding him of all the good that he had done, all the times from long before when it had been the norm to wander with them proudly visible. That is, before the humans came along and didn't understand, needed answers to questions they couldn't give and they had begun to hide amongst them instead.

But this wouldn't do.

This wasn't what he had come here to do.

He took a deep inhale, holding his breath for a few more seconds before he unfurled his wings on the exhale. He gave them a cursory glance in the mirror, scrunching up his face in mild contempt at the sorry state they were in, dusty from their containment.

"I'm glad it's only me here right now. The higher ups would have a fit." The words came out in a soft grumble, a half relieved sigh at the notion that he was alone slipping past the pit of loneliness that had been consuming him.

He really was such a contrary being. One moment he hated it, the next he rejoiced it.

He ignored the hissing notions that still wormed their way into his head, instead turning away from the mirror to find a suitable place to groom himself. His fingers had already started before he had found a place to sit, twisting and tugging at itching feathers that were making themselves known the longer he had them out in the open. "When was the last time I did this? Too long ago. That's for sure."

He continued to tut and tsk at himself as he plopped himself down, focusing on one wing and then the other. It was an arduous task, one filled with somehow knotted together feathers and tweaking unruly down until it lay flat and in position like it should. There were a few that came away altogether but he ignored them as they fell, knowing in the way they dropped off into his hands and fluttered to the ground, that they should have been gone a long time ago if he'd thought to check on them. There were a few difficult spots, frustrating, irritating tangles that he couldn't help but curse and bemoan at, all the while ignoring his heart, threatening to beat out of his chest, every time a stubborn piece of dirt took longer than it should to leave his white shimmering wings.

It wasn't until he finished, back in front of the mirror, fiddling with the hardest to reach feathers on his back that he realised they were all the spotless white they had always been.

There were no darkening stains, no grey spaces or sparse black feathers leaking through like ink on gleaming snow.

Fear and paranoia shed from his back like another layer of itching feathers, his shoulders falling as the weight on them lifted.

"See?" The word left him in a puff of air, misting up his reflection in one relaxing exhale.

He continued to fiddle with some feathers, pushing and pulling them to make sure they stayed in position, ever the perfectionist now that he had a task before him. "I really should do this more often."

He dropped his hands, letting his wings relax before miracling his collar back to how it should be, running a quick hand through his hair to tame his wayward locks.

"Absolutely nothing to worry about."

#good omens #Good Omens Fanfiction #Aziraphale #crowley #hurt/comfort #Feather Fall #tw: blood #tw: falling (religious)#tw: self harm #tw: mental breakdown

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izukillme-moved · 4 years

Text

When Armour Breaks

@watcher-ofthe-sky guess who was your secret santa? ;) MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL PERSON!! I LOVE YOU!!!! When I got the assignment, I have to admit I spent nearly fifteen minutes just freaking out because I was so happy I got you :33 I loved writing every bit of this, and I hope you enjoy it! May you have the most wonderful year ahead, I love you so much, Sky. Your talent, kindness and limitless capacity to love always stuns me; you are truly one of the most fantastic people I’ve ever had the honour of meeting. <3

Title: When Armour Breaks Ship: Kagura x Erza Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Word count: 2302

Erza Scarlet is used to responsibility.

She knows well the feeling of being looked to for leadership and for power. She is used to stepping up when no one else will and protecting those who cannot protect themselves. She is the face of Fairy Tail, the impassable Titania, the Queen of the Fairies. Her shoulders have borne the weight of duty for so long now that it is odd, almost, to step back and allow another to take the lead.

In short, Erza is no stranger to projecting bravery and strength.

But sometimes, it becomes too much for even her iron heart. Because that iron heart is all fragmented on the inside, ugly little shards of bent steel that sit rusting in the darkness that lives within Erza. Some days she has trouble getting out of bed, barely able to breathe, as if all the broken parts of her heart are clogging up her trachea and cutting into her windpipe.

Today is one of those days.

Erza swallows against the pain in her chest and forces her body out of the bed that’s too large for just one, moving sluggishly to the bathroom. The woman she sees in the mirror has dull and lifeless brown eyes, frizzy red hair that jumps out all over the place and a wan, pinched face that speaks of years of pain. It makes Erza recoil a little, seeing the harsh truth reflected back at her so starkly.

The ache in her heart builds, and suddenly she wants… well, she doesn’t know what she wants. Only that she wants – needs – a reprieve from this wounded, broken girl she refuses to let heal.

There is no time for healing, Erza tries to tell herself, summoning the stern Titania of Fairy Tail. She needs to be strong for her guild mates and for the rest of the world, because they depend on her. And yet, the image of Fairy Tail’s strongest Mage fails, replaced by the wretched young woman with eyes that have seen too much.

Erza wants to retch. She wants to run away from the mirror, wants to bring Titania back out and put Inner Erza back where she belongs, inside the iron cage that is her heart. But she doesn’t do either of those things, because exhaustion chooses that exact moment to begin gnawing at her soul and weakening her at the knees.

Maybe she will just go back to bed today, she thinks in a sudden and uncharacteristic flash of weakness. The guild will not collapse in on itself if she is absent for a single day.

Well, it might, but that’s a problem she can fix. Just… not today. Erza doesn’t think she can fix anything today.

She drags herself back to her warm and soft bed, the task itself taking an enormous amount of effort. Then she flops down onto the surface, cheeks fevered with equal parts frenzy and fatigue, and stares at the ceiling. Some of the plaster is cracking off of it, she notices. A self-deprecating chuckle passes her lips as her tired mind compares the plaster to herself.

“You’re tired of being strong, too, huh?” she asks sadly.

She receives no answer, of course. Sighing, Erza rolls over so she’s lying on her front, and buries her face in the pillow. An odd hollowness settles in her stomach, and her chest is heavy with weariness. At the same time she feels like the rusted pieces of her heart are tearing her apart from the inside out, and the pain is almost too much to bear. It’s an odd juxtaposition, pain and the lack of it. And yet both are equally hurtful, ripping Erza into little pieces that she’s too tired to put back together.

I can’t do this anymore, Erza thinks, and is surprised at the raw honesty in the thought. I’m so tired… so tired of being the rock…

Why do I have to be strong for everyone else?

They’ll break if she breaks, Erza knows. She is the strong one, the one who leads, the one who takes on the most challenges and comes out on top. She is infallible Erza Scarlet, who cannot afford to snap because she is the symbol of everyone’s hope.

And yet even infallible Erza Scarlet is riddled with cracks that widen every minute, weakening her stone foundation. She is a broken woman pretending to be powerful, pretending to have won the fight against her inner demons when in reality she threw in the towel long ago.

A knock resounds throughout Erza’s apartment, and she stiffens, stomach tightening with panic.

What if something’s happened?! Oh, God, I never should have taken the day off – I should have gone – this is all my fault!

She springs out of bed in an instant, fear fuelling her flight to the door. She throws it open, chest heaving with worry as she stares at the visitor.

Kagura Mikazuchi stands there, cool as a cucumber, dressed in a casual turtleneck and blue jeans, a far cry from her usual formal coats. Her sword, Archenemy, still hangs sheathed at her hip, of course – Erza wouldn’t expect anything less. She’s carrying a large white bag, whose contents are obscured from Erza’s eyes.

“May I come in?” Kagura asks politely, straight and to the point like always. Erza’s mouth opens, but no words come out. She simply nods and steps aside to allow Kagura in, speechless in her shock.

“I – what are you doing here?” she manages to croak out as Kagura walks into her home, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the hall and looking around.

Kagura turns to her. “May I put this on your table?” she asks respectfully, avoiding the question.

“Yes, yes, put it wherever, answer my question first!” Erza snaps. Kagura remains silent, moving slowly and robotically to place her bag on the dining table.

Then she looks up, connecting hers and Erza’s gazes, and says in a soft, mildly embarrassed tone, “I was passing through town and dropped by the guild to visit you. I was informed however that you were absent, and the shirtless one said that it might be ‘one of your days’ - whatever that meant, I didn’t think it sounded good by his facial expression, so I… er… procured your address-” Erza has to stifle a snort at the delicate way Kagura says ‘procure’, implying exactly how much delicacy she’d exercised in the process, “-and came here to check how you were. No one should be alone on Christmas Day.”

A sudden and uncomfortable silence falls over the two of them, then, both having run out of things to say. Kagura shifts in place, clearly self-conscious, and Erza just stands there in her dishevelled night-pants with her hair askew and feels the tiredness crawl its way back up her spine. She doesn’t realise that her knees have given out until warm arms wrap around her waist and pull her upwards to lean against a supple but firm body.

A furious blush colours Erza’s cheeks as she realises she’s putting most, if not all, of her weight on Kagura, who had moved almost too swiftly to catch her.

“I-” she stammers, jerking away and forcing strength into her legs, willing herself to stand strong just that little bit longer. She can’t let someone like Kagura see how weak she truly is; she simply can’t. She has to project Titania, just a little longer.

But Kagura is already shaking her head, eyes alert and worried. “You don’t seem all right. Will you be able to make your way to the bedroom? But no… I can’t let you do that.”

Before Erza can protest, Kagura’s powerful arms are slipping around her waist once more, and then she feels air against her bare soles instead of ground because holy shit, Kagura’s got her in a bridal lift and is carrying her towards her bedroom.

Erza flails weakly, but Kagura’s stern gaze saps what little energy she has left, and she can’t even summon the strength to protest as the other Mage deposits her neatly on her large bed. She lies there limp and still, not even bothering to straighten her legs or shift into a more comfortable position.

Erza is so tired, too tired to care anymore. Too tired to even care about the fact that all her weakest points are on full display to a Mage who looks up to her more than anyone ever has.

But Kagura does not comment. She merely shifts Erza’s limbs into their proper positions and drapes the coverlets over her with surprising gentleness. Then she takes off her shoes and lies down on the bed next to Erza, turning on her side to face her.

Kagura’s precise perfection is so at odds with the mess that Erza is right now, and yet she fits, somehow, as if she was always meant to be there.

“Are you well?” she asks Erza, and the inflection of her tone carries understanding and the same bitter taste of responsibility that Erza knows all too well. Kagura is not asking if she is sick, not really.

“I’m tired,” Erza says, a soft and sad sound that escapes her lips like the last breath of life leaving her chest. It’s a confession she’s never made to anybody, and the tense, anticipatory wait for Kagura’s response is almost too much to bear.

“I understand,” Kagura says softly. There’s a familiar pain in her voice as she speaks, and just for a moment one can feel a fleeting touch of hollowness inside the iron goddess that Kagura is.

The wildly unexpected reply sends chills up Erza’s spine, chills of shock and realisation that maybe, maybe she isn’t alone in this after all.

“Y - you do?” she asks softly, afraid that if she says it too loud something will shatter, turning on her side to face Kagura.

A short bob of the chin in response. “You’re their strength,” Kagura replies just as quietly. “You are their light in the darkness. But even a candle can only burn for so long.”

Erza’s eyes brim with tears, and she presses her lips together.

You understand. I’m not alone.

“Sometimes, it’s all you can do to stay together and keep your composure. It feels like you’re trying to hold a broken glass together and it just goes on breaking in your hands until you’re left with useless shards and cuts all over your palms,” Kagura continues, her own eyes shimmering and voice trembling with emotion. “It’s so hard, Erza… and you are so brave.”

Erza sniffles. “I’m not,” she says in a choked voice, the tears spilling over. Through her blurry vision she sees Kagura’s mouth turn up in a sad smile.

“Yes, you are,” Kagura says and wipes her tears with warm and gentle hands. She pulls Erza into a hug, holding her against her shoulder, and murmurs, “It’s all right. You don’t have to be strong for me.”

That sentence is what breaks the dam.

You don’t have to be strong for me.

For once in her life, she does not have to be strong for someone. For once in her life, they will be strong for her.

Erza bursts into sobs, loud cries of agony and pain, letting all of it out as Kagura cradles her. She weeps for what feels like days, reliving all the pain that has her so torn up on the inside, allowing herself to truly grieve.

When the tears dry up, Erza pulls away from the embrace, snuffling a little still.

“Oh,” she says in a thick tone, voice hoarse from crying. “I got your shirt all messy.”

Kagura smiles. “It’s all right,” she says. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Erza nods, too exhausted to do anything but accept Kagura’s kindness.

“Thank you,” she whispers. It’s gratitude for more than just letting her cry - not in all her years has Erza ever bared her soul to anyone like this. And Kagura has accepted all of it, taken all the broken parts and looked upon them with a loving gaze, as if they were the rarest and most precious diamonds in the world.

Everyone else sees Erza as what she is, and cannot fathom her losing her grip even for a second. Kagura sees Erza as who she is, and wholeheartedly receives the weakness with the strength, the pain with the love, the sorrow with the joy.

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.” Kagura replies, and Erza can see in her eyes that she truly means it. The soft relief that breaks over her when she sees Kagura’s unconditional love for her damaged self feels like a balm, soothing every wound she’s left open over the years.

“Yeah, you too,” Erza whispers. Fatigue washes through her once more, but this is a good weariness, one that makes her want to sleep and wake rejuvenated rather than lie like a zombie in her bed. She yawns, and Kagura smiles.

“Sleep,” she says. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Erza nods tiredly, and her eyes are closing before she knows it. Kagura drapes the covers over her once more, brushes her hair out of her face with tender fingers.

And she isn’t sure if she’s imagining the next part, but for a minute it almost feels like there are soft, warm lips on hers, a sweet promise that their owner will stay as long as she needs. The sensation is gone within a few seconds, though, and Erza falls fully into dreamland, slumbering peacefully for the first time in over a year.

Her dreams are filled with the dark-haired woman who has loved all of her, even the damaged parts, and it brings contentment to Erza’s broken heart at long last.

#kagura mikazuchi #erza scarlet #ftlgbtholidays2019 #kagerza #kagura x erza #fairy tail #ceru writes #watcher-ofthe-sky #secret santa #HAPPY CHRISTMAS SKY ILY #YOURE SUCH AN AMAZING BIG SISTER #<3 <3 #fanfic #ftlgbtales #happy holigays

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irwinkitten · 5 years

Text

home | m.c

pairing: none summary: michael found three brothers within his best friends as they toured the world and made names for themselves, but he never knew about being an brother until he was one. or michael discovers he has a sister notes: so lowkey inspired by the fact i found out that my great aunt’s older sister ran away when she was 20 and disappeared. so we could potentially have more family out there and i kinda got inspired to write this and yeah. warnings: mentions of death, smidgen of angst and fluff word count: 8k!

---

Most parents were able to talk to their children about their families, about their history. But Cassidy never knew about her dad, apart from the fact that she had been born from a summer fling.

Whenever she’d asked, her mum would only smile wistfully before changing the subject and Cassidy realised that she would likely never learn of the other side to her family.

But then when her mum had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, the world seemed to be pulled under from her feet as she tried to prepare herself, to plan ahead for her life. And for the most part, she could enjoy the time with her mum, the two of them going on outings. But then she deteriorated to the point that she needed to be in a hospital and Cassidy never left her side as the days slipped on by and the breathing became more shallower and rattling.

Weeks after a new year rolled in, the day that her breathing stopped, Cassidy felt her heart break. She felt the ache in her chest as she was picked up at two in the morning by a family friend, bringing her back to their home as she sat in the kitchen and sobbed, being held by the people who had helped her mum raise her.

When she was contacted by the solicitor regarding her mum’s will, Lyn stayed by her side, holding her hand as he read through what had been left to her.

She’d gained all of her mother's trinkets, as well as a substantial amount of money and a house that she could do as she pleased. And finally, she was given a letter.

Going back to Lyn’s, a cup of tea in hand, she sat in the kitchen by herself, reading through the letter and felt her heart drop. She was finally learning about her father.

Cassidy,

My sweet, sweet girl. As I write this, my health is getting worse. We both knew this moment was coming. I know you’ve been talking to the carers about getting me to the hospital. I just hope that you are not left to go through this alone. But I know Lyn, she won’t leave you.

In my last letter to you, I want to tell you about your father, a man who I loved only for a summer. His name was Daryl. We knew it would amount to nothing more, he was visiting from Australia and it was the 90’s. Technology was still moving along and letters were so much effort for us. We agreed that our summer fling would be just that. But then, my sweet girl, you surprised me. You were always the best reminder of that summer. You were the greatest gift I was given.

I know you asked for him, but I could never be honest and tell you that he was just a summer romance. I didn’t want to lie to you and say we were madly in love but he left me or didn’t want you. Truth be told, I don’t know if he knows you exist. We exchanged a handful of letters and when I discovered I was pregnant with you, I forgot about him.

I know that maybe I should have helped you reach out to him as you got older, or even told him of your existence. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It will be my greatest shame to bear, even after I pass to the next life. You deserved better than that, and I can only apologise.

With this letter, I’ve included the letters we exchanged before I discovered my pregnancy. I know the address and name is not much to go on, but it’s all that I can do now. The rest is up to the universe. I hope that she will be kind and give you the opportunity to meet him, because the man that I met, the charming and witty young gentleman, would have loved you to pieces.

I am sorry, my sweet girl that we part like this. But I hope you can rest your soul that even though my bones are growing tired and my soul is lifting to meet my maker, I am so so proud of who you are and the woman you’ve become.

All my love,

Mum

Lyn found her in the kitchen, tea long gone cold and body slumped over the table, dry tear tracks indicating she’d cried herself to exhaustion. So after calling for her husband Joe, he easily shifted her body into his arms, carrying her up to the guest bedroom and tucked her under the covers.

Lyn folded the letter back up without looking and placed it on the bedside table before letting her sleep peacefully.

The next morning when Cassidy stumbled into the kitchen, greeted with Joe’s coughed giggle, she rolled her eyes and made herself a tea, leaning against the counter as he continued to make breakfast.

“Mum left me a letter. She told me about my dad.” Joe paused for a moment before he finished up their breakfast. She didn’t argue as he marched her into the dining room and sat her down, his eyes filled with concern.

“And what do you want to do Cassie?” She hesitated at his question. What did she want?

“I want him to know me. But I’m scared. I’m twenty five years old and I’m fucking terrified.” She finally got out and he reached a hand out, resting it on hers.

“You know that Lyn and I will be here with you regardless of your decision.” She nodded her head at that and the discussion was shelved for when Lyn returned home from work.

The day was filled with appointments, getting the death certificate and making phone calls to either get things transferred or cut off. It was a tiring day of Cassidy and when Lyn returned home later that evening, she was already nursing a glass of wine, her eyes rimmed red and a tissue in her lap. Joe could only offer so much comfort, but he was more about practicality, Lyn dealt better with the emotions.

Grabbing her dinner that had been left on a warming plate in the oven, Lyn joined the two in the living room, choosing the spot next to Cassidy. The younger girl seemed to shift in response, her body curling into Lyn’s side and she didn’t protest, knowing that comfort was needed.

They discussed the day, Joe going over what had been done before her usual sharp green eyes snapped up at the mention of the funeral.

“It’s got to be colourful. She loved life and bright colours.” Joe nodded in understanding and Joe finally brought up the conversation she was still unsure about.

“Cassie has found out some information about her dad from her mum.” With Lyn’s plate long since cleared and set on the floor, she’d allowed the younger woman to curl into her side completely, accepting the offered comfort. Her arm squeezed around Cassidy’s shoulders.

“Do you want to find him?”

“Yes.” The answer had left her lips, the uncertainty tinging in her tone, but she knew that it was something she needed to do. There wasn’t much left of her family any more. Cousins scattered across the country with aunts and uncles, but even then they were slowly passing away.

“We’ll start with a letter to the address that we have. That way we can open a communication and see where to go from there.” Relief flooded through her bones. Someone was helping her and taking charge.

---

After the funeral, they’d written the letter and sent it off. Cassidy hadn’t thought much of it as she slowly began to pack up her mum’s belongings, the small trinkets staying in the house whilst the clothes went to charity shops or she sold on. It was easy to fall back into the routine of going back to work.

Her boss had been kind to her, giving her the time she needed, getting cover for the shifts and telling Cassidy not to worry about the coffee shop. And so she didn’t. When she returned to work, her regular customers who lived locally and knew what had happened, passed their condolences and things slowly began to return to normal.

It was two months after the letter had been sent off did an email ping into her inbox, the only thing stopping from deleting it was the subject of the message ‘greetings from Daryl’ and her stomach dropped as she stared at the words before taking a deep breath and closing the laptop lid.

“I’ve got time.” She murmured, heading upstairs to shower and get changed, scrubbing herself clean until her skin was slightly pink and she didn’t feel like her chest was caving in.

Cassidy eventually returned to the laptop, hands shaking as she clicked open the email. Her eyes scanned over the contents, a short explanation saying how that he didn’t live at the at address any more, but he’d always kept in touch with the previous owners. He sent his condolences about her mother and the slight disbelief that she hadn’t told him about her.

Along with it was the agreement to the paternity test, for his own reassurance and then maybe they could talk about it more. And she understood that, she understood that he was worried for whatever reason that it wasn’t true.

So with trembling hands, she typed her reply out and realised that everything in her life was about to change.

---

Cassidy had done her swabs and sent the test off weeks ago.

Lyn had helped her, and when the results arrived, she didn’t bother to open them, heading over to Lyn and Joe’s instead. Every emotion seemed to be crashing through her body as she tried to figure out how she felt about this. Was she excited, was she nervous? When she pulled up to their driveway and headed on in, she realised that a lot of the feeling was fear. Fear of the unknown.

“The test results arrived.” She held up the envelope once she greeted Lyn. Without being prompted, she handed the envelope over.

“Are you sure you want me to open them?”

“I can’t.” And one look at her trembling hands helped Lyn understand as they sat down on the couch together. The house was quiet, Joe having gone into work for the day.

The opening of the envelope sounded louder than it should’ve done, but also Cassidy could hear her heart thundering in her chest. Everything felt louder as she could feel herself holding onto her breath, waiting for Lyn to read the letter.

“Congratulations, kiddo. He’s a match.” The breath escaped her and she could feel herself lost for words. Her mum hadn’t lied and he really was her dad.

“I don’t know what to do now.” She finally whispered and Lyn patted her arm comfortingly.

“You talk to him. Work it out from here.”

So she went home and opened her emails. She typed and retyped her email until the words didn’t look right to her. And eventually she clicked send, praying he could make sense of her garbled nonsense, terrified of the biggest change in her life.

He replied within the hour, having read his own results and it felt like a weight was settling on her again. She didn’t know how to reply to his curious questions, wondering if she should just be flat out or try to open the conversation.

That was when Cassidy realised that she wanted this relationship with her dad, and she wanted to be able to talk to him about the mundane stuff without it being a chore.

So she kept herself open, talking about what she did, but asking him if he was working at all. She told him snippets of her life and in return he told her that he had a wife and a son.

The second she read that, she could feel shock ripple through her as she stared at the word until she pushed the laptop away and took in a sharp breath.

“Holy shit I’ve got a brother.”

That was when a startled laugh escaped her and she could feel every emotion fighting to push first, overwhelming her until she just cried for everything, the tears coming as a relief and helping her sort through the various emotions.

She was absolutely elated that she had a brother, and that was when she found herself craving for more information.

And so he told her everything that happened after he’d left her mother. He told her about his marriage, his son who was a musician, his friends, his family, her family.

And over the following weeks and months as they exchanged emails and soon texts, she found herself wanting to meet him.

‘I’ve got holiday time coming up. Do you think it would be possible to meet up?’

‘Of course! What dates do you have off, I’m sure we can work something out.’

---

Daryl knew that the subject needed to be approached carefully with Michael. Both he and Karen had decided whilst he was on tour, they wouldn’t worry him about this.

He knew his wife had been so understanding with the subject of Cassidy, especially when the results had confirmed she was indeed his daughter.

“I may understand that you two had been together long before I was in the picture, but Michael necessarily won’t. Not till we sit down with him properly.” Her voice had been reason and he agreed that whilst he was on a world tour, they didn’t need to add to his stress load.

So they agreed to have her fly out to Australia, to spend time away from everything but give her a chance to meet the rest of his family too. His parents were still alive and deserved to know they had not only a grandson but a granddaughter as well.

Daryl’s arms wrapped around Karen, pulling her tight as he placed a kiss to her head.

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

“She’s your little, well, not so little but my point still stands, but she’s your little girl. I’ll hold my judgement till I meet her but I won’t turn her away. She’s family now.” And at his wife’s words, he could feel the stress slip from his shoulders.

“We’ll need to tell Michael eventually.”

“Before or after the tour? This is a big thing and we can’t drop it on him unexpectedly.”

“We’re going to their LA show, right?” Karen flicked through the calendar that sat on the fridge.

“You want to tell him then?”

“I’m certain they have a few weeks off before the European run of the tour. It’ll give him enough time to get his head around the fact he has a sister. He’ll have Crystal with him as well.” Daryl countered and she hummed in agreement.

“That’s only a few months away now.” She moved back to table as they finished up lunch.

“He’ll understand.”

When Cassidy arrived in Sydney, she was a lot more nervous than she was letting on. Thankfully, Daryl had offered to pay for a hotel for her, so she had her own space to decompress. He understood that staying with complete strangers wasn’t really ideal.

He’d offered to pick her up from the airport, but she’d declined, wanting to meet somewhere that wasn’t rushed or overwhelming. So they agreed to meet for dinner on her second night, giving Cassidy a day to adjust to the time change but also to explore the city by herself.

She loved every second of her first day, visiting the more local spots for food and letting her feet enjoy the feeling of the sand between her toes.

By the time it came around for the dinner, she was the most relaxed she’d been since long before her mum had gotten ill.

When she arrived at the restaurant, she was greeted by a server and she found herself smoothing down her dress nervously.

“Uh, a table under the name of Clifford?” The server smiled.

“Two of the party have already arrived, if you’d like to follow me please?” And she did, her eyes darting around the, for the most part, empty restaurant.

Eventually they headed in the direction of a couple who were conversing between themselves and it was the woman who looked up first, her lips curving into a reassuring smile. The man turned his head and Cassidy found her breathing hitch.

She could see her features in his face so easily. She knew that she took after her dad, her mum had always told her so. But to see his face, she could pinpoint the similarities and her found her words frozen as the server brought her up to the table and Daryl stood.

“All grown up and beautiful. Definitely from my side.” And she laughed, her nerves easing a she leaned forward into a hug and the way he held her tightly, like he was holding pieces of her together. And she closed her eyes, holding on for that second longer, before they pulled away and his hands cupped her face, thumbs wiping the tears that had fallen.

“Let me introduce you to my wife, Karen. Karen, this is my daughter Cassidy.” Karen stunned her, pulling her in for a warm hug that she practically melted into. Her nerves were for nothing apparently.

As they talked through the evening, Karen and Cassidy swapped places, the father and daughter duo talking about what she did growing up, what she studied and her current job.

“Let me take a photo of the both of you.” Karen finally piped up during a lull in the conversation. Cassidy gave her a curious glance.

“Sure.” She leaned closer, a bright grin on her lips as the photo was taken and their food arrived.

The conversations continued as both Karen and Daryl told her about their own lives and about her younger half-brother.

By the time that the dinner was over, Cassidy felt a lot more comfortable but Daryl understood that she was still adjusting to this massive change in her life.

“I know it must feel surreal for you, it’s still surreal for me to think about that I have a grown up daughter. But I want to make this work for all of us.” His words were quiet as they exited the restaurant, Karen just behind them. Cassidy had her arm looped through his.

“It feels strange, to know that I have a dad after so long of it being just mum and I.” Cassidy admitted. They split off, Karen indicating she was heading to the car to wait whilst the two of them moved to the park just across the street, the streetlamps beginning to light up the place. It was peaceful as they walked through.

“Did she not find anyone?” Cassidy shook her head.

“She had a couple of boyfriends when I was growing up, but none of them liked the fact she had me and prioritised me over them. That was when she figured that she was better off raising me by herself.”

“She did a stellar job with it.” A smile cracked across Cassidy’s lips.

As they walked through the park, the question that had always been something she’d wanted to ask, ever since she was a child, fell from her lips before she could stop herself.

“Did you ever love mum?” He glanced at her, the way her cheeks flushed before her eyes turned from him down to the floor in embarrassment. He chuckled softly.

“Don’t fret about asking such questions. I’ve been married to Karen long enough at this point, it’s not an unreasonable question. I did love your mum, but we both knew that it was only going to be a summertime romance. She was always a delight to be around and when I first came back home, I missed her. But I moved past it, choosing to remember it as a sweet summer romance, and by the time I met Karen, she was but a memory for me.”

And Cassidy couldn’t fault him. He moved on with his life. He got married, had another child.

“I there somewhere we could go tomorrow? I’ve been looking at the tourist stuff and not all of it is appealing to me.” She finally spoke after moments of silence and he laughed.

“If you’re anything like what your mother was, I know a few museums that would interest you. How about we make a day of it tomorrow and you come around for dinner?” She nodded her head at his proposed plan.

“Sounds ideal.”

---

Michael felt like he was on top of the world. Playing the LA Forum as the final night of their North American tour and all of their parents had flown out to see it. He knew that his parents had opted to stay in a hotel and he knew they were going to be staying in LA for the next few weeks for his birthday before flying back home, where he’d be joining them for the awards show.

After the show, the post-show euphoria setting in after the four had showered and changed. It felt surreal. Tour was nearly over and he could focus on the future, the next record.

“Son, we need to talk to you.” His dad’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, devoid of the normal jovial tone that he was used to.

“Is-”

“Your mum’s waiting for us, we figured to talk away from everyone.” His eyes strayed to his brothers in all but blood and Michael felt a frown form on his features.

“Is Crystal included in the statement about everyone?” His dad gave him a sharp look and Michael had to stop himself from apologising immediately.

“For this time, yes. You can tell her and the others, but we want to talk to you first.” He tried not to flinch at the harsh tone from his dad, but he watched as his face softened, a smile crossing his lips. “We wanted to tell you this news first is all, it’s nothing against her or your brothers.” Michael grinned before holding his hand up as a signal to wait a moment, turning towards the group.

“Mike, we’re heading out, you gonna join?” Luke posed the question and Michael shook his head.

“Sorry, but not at the moment. The folks want to talk to me about something, but we’ll catch up with you later if you text me where you guys are gonna be at?” Luke nodded as he placed a soft kiss to Crystal’s cheek, arms wrapping around her waist.

“I’ll let you know what they’re telling me later. I’ll text you if it’s serious. Love you.” He murmured under his breath and she chuckled.

“Love you too. And well done baby, I’m proud.” She hummed, turning her head so that her lips met his.

A variety of gagging noises erupted from the other three and Michael stuck his middle finger up in their general direction before pulling away and following after his dad.

Once he was in the back of his parents hired car, the chatter was idle and he realised that they were heading back to his.

“I could’ve brought my stuff back with me.” He groaned and his mum laughed.

“Like that would’ve helped you do your washing any quicker.” She teased and he gave her an impish grin in return as they climbed out. Once inside, his parents sat on the couches and suddenly Michael felt like a guest in his own home as he took a seat on the opposite one.

“So we wanted to tell you this news when we first found out, but you were in the middle of a world tour and I realise this is going to make no sense to you, but I didn’t want to distract you from your job.” His dad started off and Michael could only give his parents a confused stare in return.

“Found out what?”

“You have an older sister.” The words from his dad made his gut drop.

“Surely mum would’ve remembered giving birth to another child.” His tone was cold and he could feel his heart race. “This has got to be some kind of bad joke.”

His mum shook her head.

“She’s your half-sister. Before your dad and I met, he had a summer romance back in England. It was never something we considered happening because we met long after he’d returned from England.” This wasn’t making Michael feel any better, his emotions warring.

“How did she get in touch?”

“Letter first. Then we texted and emailed and eventually she came out to Sydney-”

“Wait, how long ago was this?”

“She visited mid-year.” Michael couldn’t stop the feeling of betrayal and anger flooding him, not realising he was on his feet until he was pacing.

“So you kept this from me for almost half a year?” His tone was venomous and his mum flinched, but he was too incensed to care.

“She sent the letter months before-”

“So nearly an entire fucking year?” He fired back, struggling to keep his voice from rising. Part of him was screaming that he was being irrational, but the other was beginning to bubble with an anger that he’d not felt in a very long time.

“We didn’t want to distract you from the tour! You’ve been so excited about it and I felt it wasn’t something you needed to worry about too much.”

“She says she’s my fucking sister, but it’s not something I need to worry about? Are you even hearing yourselves right now?” His incredulous tone was met with raised eyebrows and he scoffed.

“We had a DNA test done to be sure. The results are accurate.” His dad said quiet and Michael felt a sarcastic laugh escape him, no humour in his tone.

“Real fucking reassuring for me. Just drop it on me that I have a sister, telling me that yeah you’ve met her and had the DNA results-”

His father handed a photo to him, cutting off his words. The photo was taken at a restaurant. A girl, who he would’ve placed at his age sat next to his dad. He couldn’t ignore the screaming similarities. She shared his natural blonde hair colour, eyes the same as his and he felt his breathing catch.

“Get out.”

“I know this is a lot, but please understand I felt it was what was best for you. I’m sorry if my decisions hurt you, son.” His dad hummed. Michael didn’t acknowledge the words, looking away as his mum placed a hand on his cheek.

“We’ll see you soon.” Was all she said before the door slammed shut and Michael could feel his breathing get shorter.

Tears blurred his vision as he fumbled for his phone, trying to pull himself together, unsure of his emotions. Part of him felt elated, overjoyed. But the stronger, more angrier side felt panicked and hurt.

Abandoning the search for his phone, he felt the burning in his chest as he tried to calm himself down before he gave up on that notion.

He knew he was drowning in the panic, but he repeatedly told himself that he was okay, that he was alive and he wasn’t really burning. It didn’t take much longer before he could feel the steel bands that were wrapped around his chest begin to loosen up and breathing became easier for him.

He finally picked up the photo, his eyes taking in the features of the girl-his sister.

“Where the fuck were you so many years ago?” He finally muttered before tossing the photo onto the coffee table, heading upstairs to get changed. He needed to drink and he knew the others were still going to be out

When he woke up the next morning, the taste of cotton in his mouth and the headache increasing, he buried his face into the pillow, trying to remember what he drank last night to get such a hangover.

Then he remembered why he’d drunk so much.

Pulling himself from his bed, he had a shower, washing the smell of alcohol and sweat off of him before he finally got dressed and made his way downstairs. Crystal was sat on the sofa, the photo in her hands as she studied it.

Nothing was spoken as he went to make himself a black coffee, draining the first mug before making another one and finally venturing into the living room, sitting next to his girlfriend. The silence was easy, but he could hear her unspoken question.

“She’s my half-sister according to my parents. My dad had a summer romance with someone from England, way before he met my mum. Apparently, she was the result of that fling.”

Crystal remained quiet, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his thigh.

“Why now? Why not years sooner? Why has this got to happen now, just as we’re about to fly out to the fucking country for tour?” Getting it off his chest felt therapeutic and he knew he couldn’t let this fester. “I mean, mum and dad met her in the summer. He’d been in contact with her for longer. Nearly an entire fucking year and not one word passed to me about her.”

They lapsed into silence and he tried to push the bitterness to one side, his head falling to rest against Crystal’s shoulder. She shifted her arms to wrap around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Give her a chance, but don’t bury your feelings. Talk to your parents and we’ll work something out.” She murmured softly and he sighed before nodding.

---

He was nervous.

For the last part of the tour, the guys knew that something was up, but didn’t pester him about it. He hadn’t told them of his sisters existence. He was still trying to understand it himself. But a month hadn’t been long enough for him.

When he arrived to his parents empty home, he felt confused for a second. He knew they’d travelled back a few days before him.

“They’re out shopping.” A voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see the girl he’d only seen in the photo his dad had left with him.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t have to. The question was practically scrawled across your forehead.” She replied calmly. For some reason, the calm reply only irritated him further and he tried not to scowl.

“I guess you’ll know why they didn’t text me to let me know?” The sarcastic response was rhetorical as she shrugged in return.

“Your mum said something about taking a while clearing customs and collecting bags. Dad didn’t disagree with her observations.” The casual way she spoke ‘dad’ seemed to set something off and he scowled.

“Why don’t you just go back to your own parent and leave mine alone?” He snapped, eyes finally meeting hers.

Cassidy recoiled back from his words as if she’d been slapped, eyes filling with tears.

“That’s what you’re doing right? Trying to weasel in and maybe get your-”

“My mother is dead.” She barely breathed out before storming past and fleeing from the house, a loud slam echoing around the empty home.

Guilt immediately ate him up and he suddenly found himself feeling very small as he realised that every selfish assumption he’d had was entirely wrong.

He wasn’t too sure how long he’d been stood there, but upon hearing the door shut once more, he jolted back and was greeted by his parents carrying through the grocery bags.

“So you cleared customs quick then?” His mum enquired as she carried on through to the kitchen.

“Yeah, not too much luggage or equipment.” He replied dully.

“Have you met Cassie yet?” Guilt flooded him once more as he nodded his head.

“She, uh, went out. I’m not feeling particularly hungry right now. So I’m just gonna head up to my old room and crash out for a bit.” Michael jammed his thumb towards the stairs and hoped that his parents wouldn’t interrogate him.

He did not need that argument to increase his guilt. He needed to find his sister and apologise at least, for his words.

“Sure thing sweetheart. If you’re not down for dinner later, I’ll plate you up some and you can eat it when you’re ready.”

Michael didn’t respond as he picked up his luggage and disappeared upstairs, falling face first into his pillow as the unease settled in his stomach.

For the first couple of days, it was awkward. He couldn’t figure out how to apologise to her and then he had the awards show. From what he gathered from his parents, she was staying behind. They hadn’t announced to any of their friends about Cassidy yet and wanted the two of them comfortable.

This only made the guilt in his stomach grow.

He tried to push it from his mind as they went up for the awards, plastering a smile on his lips for the cameras and fans. It took more effort than he thought, but by the time the night was over, he was ready to just collapse.

It was another two days of awkwardness before Michael had had enough.

“C’mon, we’re going out.” He startled Cassidy from her spot on the couch, a book tucked against her legs.

His parents were at their jobs so there was still a few hours left and he did not want it to be spent so awkwardly and uncomfortable. And the guilt was really beginning to eat at him.

“Going out where?” Her tone was cautious, understandably so.

“The beach.” Came the prompt reply and she hesitated before shrugging and ditching her book, grabbing her bag and flip-flops before heading out to his rented car.

He didn’t know how to fill the awkward silence in the car with idle chatter, he was never good at that. So he let the radio music fill in the background silence as he drove away from the tourist spots and moved more towards where the locals congregated, avoiding the overcrowded beaches.

When they reached the beach, part of him wondered what the fuck he was doing, but then one glance to his left was a solid reminder of why he was out there with Cassidy.

The silence was deafening as they began their walk along the sand. Both of them had ditched their shoes once they hit the sand, Michael pulling a face whereas Cassidy simply grinned.

Ten minutes into their walk, he finally found his words.

“I’m an asshole of a brother.”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” Came back the response and he found a small smile creep up on his lips.

“I know it’s no excuse, but it felt like they were trying to replace me. Their only son, off in LA and around the world, living the rockstar life with his girlfriend. Part of me wondered if they didn’t like being so far away.”

“But you know I’m only-”

“I know you’re dads. But mum, she’s taken a real shining to you. And I got scared thinking that you were there to, I don’t know, break them up so he could be with your mum.” He could feel his cheeks growing warm as she snorted at his words, but she didn’t argue them.

“I get the anger, the frustration. But you've gotta work it for you.” She hummed softly, fingers running through her hair. “You need to talk to dad about this, or at least your mum so one of them understands why you’ve been so distant this trip.”

“I’m sorry.” He finally admitted and they finally stopped, sitting down on the beach, facing the sea. “I’m sorry I hurt you like that. I went too far and it wasn’t fair.”

Cassidy let the silence sit between them, her eyes watching a few of the locals on the waves. The breeze seemed to play with both of their hair, pushing it from their faces as she finally turned her head towards him.

“Apology accepted.”

“But I’m not forgiven yet, am I?”

“Yet being the keyword.” Her lips were curved into a small smile, and Michael reciprocated.

“Can we start again? We got off on a really bad foot and you don’t deserve that.” Both of their smiles grew into matching grins.

“Hi Michael, I’m Cassidy, your older half-sister.”

“Nice to meet you Cassidy,” his arm wrapped across her shoulders, “I hope you like sushi and video games. That’s all I’m useful for as a brother.” The two shared a laugh, continuing to watch the surfers and asking questions about each other.

---

After Cassidy had flown back to the UK, their relationship seemed to flourish, despite the time differences.

As she worked, she got updates from him, exchanging jokes and talking about his engagement announcement that was coming up.

She’d met Crystal and seeing how the two were, seeing him so happy and in love, she was more than happy to welcome her to the family, despite having only been apart of it for such a short time.

The two of them had hit it off quite well, and it seemed to cement the sibling’s relationship further.

They’d agreed to keep her appearance quiet, even though there were photos floating around of her hugging Michael goodbye at LAX when she headed back home. She was just grateful that they hadn’t managed to get a shot of her face and thanks to a quick change, she was able to blend in with the crowds.

Despite feeling more relaxed about the start of the year, as her mum’s anniversary came up, she knew that she was struggling and told Michael and their dad as such. What didn’t help was when she tried to take time off to visit them, if only to get through the awful day with her new family, her boss had given her a written warning.

She’d exploded about it to Michael, ranting about how she had holiday to take but he wasn’t letting her.

It left her very drunk and very alone on the anniversary of her mum’s death and when Michael finally called her once he’d finished up in the studio, she’d burst into tears at the simple ‘how are you doing?’

He realised then that he was prepared to drop everything and fly out to her just to be a shoulder for her to cry on, but he knew he couldn’t. So he got in touch with Lyn, asking her to check in on Cassidy.

He’d quietly asked the others, because he felt so new to these different emotions. He felt overwhelmingly protective of his sister, even though she was older. That’d made Calum laugh when he’d admitted it.

“With siblings, time together doesn’t matter. When one’s hurting, it’s shit to watch them in pain and you want to do whatever you can to help. Don’t beat yourself up because you can’t, you listened to her and I can bet she appreciated it.”

And he was right. She called him a few days later and thanked him for not only being on the phone with her, but also for calling Lyn.

“You’re my sister. I wasn’t about to hang up and leave you by yourself, drunk.” He’d scoffed in return, but they both understood. He was relieved she was okay.

When the new single dropped and they began doing promo, that was when Michael felt the pressure of the questions from interviewers about the photo of him hugging Cassidy. But it was one where they were being recorded for a video that he finally snapped.

“So whilst you guys have significant others on the tour, apparently there’s a new girl on the scene.” The others could feel the temperature drop drastically, despite it still being warm in the room. Michael’s look was wary and defensive.

“And what about it?” Ashton asked hesitantly and the interviewer smirked.

“Well we were wondering if there’s a reason for this new girl? Especially when she seems to be around the member who’s engaged.” Michael’s jaw twitched as he stopped himself from spouting off, waiting for the actual question the interviewer seemed to be digging for.

“Is there an actual question?” His tone was icy, and either the interviewer didn’t realise or ignored it.

“Well, who is she? Is she a side piece or is she dating one of the last two free members of the band.” Both Ashton and Calum stiffened and Michael’s temper snapped.

“Considering it’s none of your business who she is, I’ll tell you regardless because I really don’t need any rumours flying about her or my bandmates or myself. She’s my sister who could probably kick your ass and is definitely going to kick mine for this, but I really don’t appreciate how you were talking about her.” The interviewers eyes seemed to light up, no shame in his features.

The interview continued, but it felt a lot more difficult to relax. Once the cameras were off and the interviewer was shaking their hands, he handed Michael a slip of paper.

“Pass that onto your sister for me, mate. I’d love to have a one-to-one with her.” The smirk on his face told Michael exactly what he was going for. Michael stared him down.

“I know my sister well enough that she wouldn’t go near you with a fucking barge pole. Next time you decide to do interviews of anyone, do your fucking research. And maybe don’t degrade women, you might get a date, asshole.” He dropped the paper on the floor and headed out, a low whistle escaping from Ashton.

“That interview is going to blow up, you realise this, right?”

“Fans have speculated that she’s just a friend, so we’re going to have to post something before that interview goes live.” Michael groaned before they piled into the car that took them to the next location.

“At least we’re not doing any kind of interview on Fallon. I don’t think I could take another grilling like that.” He groaned and the other three laughed.

When they reached the rehearsal studio, Cassidy had already arrived and was tapping away at her laptop, looking up and greeted the group with a grin.

“You could maybe be a little bit more excited to see me.” It took Michael a full second before his brain registered and she’d already ditched her laptop by the time he’d pulled her from her seat, pulling her into the tightest hug.

“Holy shit I didn’t think you were able to make it?” She laughed as he finally let go and she greeted the other three easily.

“My boss got fired. Something about a complaint being made to HR about his treatment of his staff.” She eyed him carefully and he shrugged.

“You had the time off and he wouldn’t give it to you. It’s bad treatment.” She grinned.

“Well, I spoke to my new boss the other week and explained the whole situation to her. She sat with me as we went through my projects. Anything that needed to be done as a practical side was pulled forward and completed, the others are mostly research. I’ve gotten the bulk of the list done whilst on the twelve hour flight over which means that I can work whilst you guys are rehearsing and then hopefully it means I get more time with you knuckleheads.”

Once Alex and Drew turned up for rehearsal, they all seemed to knuckle down whilst she tapped away on her laptop, smiling at the jokes and rolling her eyes at the childishness. She didn’t move from her spot, seemingly ignoring the group whilst the occasional click of the camera could be heard in the lull of the sound.

At one point, whilst Ashton was on the drums, him and Matt going over the song, she felt someone sit next to her and turned her head to see it was Michael.

“So, how’s work coming along?” He asked quietly, his eyes flickering to the laptop. She smiled, scrolling through the few pages.

“Just a few conclusions to write up. I’ve cited most of the documents, so I don’t have to do that ballache later tonight either.”

The two shared grins.

“So, you know that we wanted to keep your connection to me, quiet...” Michael knew it was better to tell her now rather than her finding out later on.

“You told?” Her tone wasn’t accusing, simply questioning.

“The interviewer was an asshole about you. Making you out like you’re some sort of side chick for me,” both of them cringed, “or dating Calum or Ashton, since they’re the only two available members of the band.”

“So you put him in his place?” He nodded and she let her head rest on his shoulder. “I’m not upset. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“We’ll need to post something officially, before the interview goes out.” He murmured after a moment and she just hummed in response as they watched the others for a while.

“Who knew that being a Clifford would cause so much drama?” She finally mused, making him laugh.

“Well us Clifford’s have got to stick together in these trying times.” The tease was clear, but she understood his words and nudged his side playfully.

“Too damn right. And hey, if it means having to look beautiful for the both of us, I’ll gladly do so.” It took Michael a solid second to register her words and she was off the chair like a shot, laughing as he followed.

“That was mean!” He whined as he chased after her, catching her into a headlock, the others pausing to watch the duo.

“You left it wide open Mike. I simply took the invite. Don’t ruin my hair!” Cassidy tried to pull away as his hand ruffled her hair, yelping as she elbowed his side and released her.

“Try not to kill him Cassie, we need our guitarist alive.” Ashton called over to her and she gave him a thumbs up before wrapping her arms around Michael.

“If I got the beauty, you got the talent, that’s for sure.” She muttered, making him laugh as he hugged her back before she pulled away and headed back to her spot, feeling contentment settle over her as she watch the group rehearse and goof around.

She was home, finally.

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danetobelieve · 4 years

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Baywatch || Blanche and Winston

With the amount of people telling her not to go back to the beach along with the amount of people she was telling not to even go near the beach, Blanche was pretty sure this wasn’t the greatest idea. Someone had to do it, though. Someone needed to get close enough to the chest. Blanche desperately wanted to know what was in it like everyone else, but she, thankfully, knew better. Just get the pictures, and then get the fuck out of there. Maybe fight a killer lobster or two. Blanche pulled up to the address Winston gave her, self-consciously patting her pocket with the mace Cece had graciously let her keep. First thing she did was put a nice sticker of, ironically, a crab on it when she got home so she wouldn’t mix it up with a can of actual mace. Her back seat had other makeshift weapons. Hairspray and one of those large candle lighters, a baseball bat, and a can of RAID. She glanced to the back seat, frowning. Maybe she over did it. She looked rolled down the window when she saw Winston approaching, leaning looking out the window. “I think this is where I’m supposed to call you a loser and make a mean girl’s reference.”

Honestly, moments ago Winston had been stood looking at what they had decided to call their survival pack. They were certain that they would need more then this. But they had ‘borrowed’ one of Ricky’s axes that they used to cut firewood and they had also grabbed a first aid kit, water, some food (just in case) and a few other essentials. This after everything that had happened to their house with Skylar and Ricky, well Winston wasn’t entirely sure that they were sane anymore. But Blanche was cool, in a way that not many people were and she was funny too. Winston didn’t want anything to happen to her and so they were going to go with her. Even if it meant lying to Remmy. Something that Winston felt immensely guilty about. This was a really bad idea. They hadn’t even bothered to tell Ricky what they were doing. “Probably, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears because that is one film that I have never watched,” they chuckled nervously and then realised what they were doing and tried to make it sound natural except it probably just made it sound even more anxious then before, “we should probably get this over with.”

“That’s got to be a cardinal sin or something.” Not having seen Mean Girls wasn’t important. They were more nervous than she was, and that was saying something. Blanche wondered if she should call the whole thing off - probably - especially if Winston was anxious about it. But, in her heart of hearts, she knew she wasn’t going to do that because at the end of the day she knew she was just going to go anyway and if she went without Winston they were going to get mad at her and she didn’t want that. She liked Winston, and she wanted them to be her friend because… Well, she needed those, and also they were funny enough that almost dying in the middle of the woods via hedgehound (moose?) was a little less terrible. So that had to count for something, right? Blanche glanced over at them, glancing them over - “Is that - Is that an axe?” Blanche gapped. Red axe for red lobsters, she guessed. A giggle came out of her, mostly because she was trying to imagine Winston swinging that thing at a giant lobster - Karkinoid, really. Snickering, she shook her head. “Christ. Toss it in the back with the rest of my makeshift weapons. The good news is -” Blanche said, checking her blind spot before she pulled back out onto the road. “- that someone offered a ‘small finders fee’ for any parts of crab - er, Karkinoid we kill. So that’s cool. How’s your housemate?”

“Well if not seeing Mean Girls doesn’t send me to hell for my sins then I am sure Rick or Remmy will after they find out what I have agreed to here.” Winston was a person full of regrets as they reached over towards the back seat and deposited their axe there. “Uh, yes, it is an axe, Ricky had a whole tool shed off of his studio that is just fool of odd tools and this looked like it would be the best option,” they weren’t sure why Ricky had an actual fire axe but in a time of need like the one that they found themselves in, Winston wasn’t about to ask a bunch of questions about a good thing. “You really … came prepared.” Winston wondered if perhaps they really should invest in a gun. They weren’t sure that their morals would allow them to honestly. After watching their dad work at the WCPD for many years, they had become convinced that they weren’t the sort of thing that everyday people should just have access to. “Ricky?” they asked quietly, “Yeah he’s fine, a little banged up but he’ll do ok.” Winston was glad that the back porch was at the back of the house and not the front. They would hate for Blanche to see the mess that the karkinoids had made.

“How about this: You deal with Ricky, and I deal with Remmy once we’re back,” Blanche said. “Or, actually, send them both after me. This is my fault anyway,” she shrugged slightly. If the shoe fit, she would deal with both the wrath of Remmy and Ricky once it came down to it. Now, maybe her morality was slightly corrupted now that she also fully had a plan of killing one of the Karkinoids so she could show Regan - though, she wasn’t quite sure how that was going to work. Maybe if she just took it’s head or it’s giant claw or something… She didn’t get a chance to dwell on it though because there was something in Winston’s quiet tone that sobered her up a little. “Good,” Blanche said, glancing at them. Not good. People were getting hurt because of this. “Even better, there’s a clear forecast. I didn’t get hit with a single salmon or carp on my way here.” She made the turn off to get to the beach. “Alright, so, you know what the plan is right? No touching or trying to open the stupid thing. Just pictures of it.”

“Or we can just not tell them about any of this,” Winston replied, “we’re just getting in and out and nothing is going to go wrong so there won’t be anything to tell them.” Winston knew that they were kidding themselves. This was something so big that there was no way that they were going to be able to hide it from their friends. “I’ve got your back,” they said with a shrug, “you’re not forcing me to come.” They knew that they didn’t have to do this, the truth was that they really didn’t want to, but they wouldn’t let Blanche do this on their own. Helping people over come adversity was the name of the game, this was just different from forensics. But after everything that had happened at their own home the other night, Winston wasn’t sure that they could just sit back and let nothing happen. “This may be the first time that I’ve ever used fish as a descriptor for the weather and I have to be honest, if a large fish never misses me narrowly as I walk to work then it’ll be too soon.” They nodded calmly, pulling out their inhaler and taking a quick preventative breath of it before flashing Blanche a quick smile. “No touching, in and out.”

“Mmm, well you should know that I'm a notoriously bad liar,” Blanche grimaced, remembering all the bullshit with Regan. Her so called jenga tower of lies was only staying up with pieces of string, duct tape, and chewing gum. “If they ask, it’s not worth it to even try.” She glanced to them, feeling a little touched that they had her back. Was this what friendship was? Blanche was bad at that - gauging just what type of level she was on with people. “I have your back too,” Blanche said, truthfully. If anyone was going to get hurt on this mission impossible/investigative bullshit, it should be her and absolutely not Winston. “Ugh, you should have seen the size of the salmon that almost knocked me off my bike - and the bruise to prove it.” She glanced at them, grinning. “In, out, might mace a few lobsters here and there. Sounds like my ideal beach day, to be honest.” She made the last turn, and carefully pulled her car up where she had the last time with Remmy and Moose. Blanche undid her seatbelt. “Alright - pick your poison from our weapons cabin. I’m taking the mace -” she held up her acid mace. “Because this shit could probably melt through steel.”

“Me too,” Winston admitted, “I don’t know why but I always forget that I’ve told a lie to set up the lie I’m telling, and then after that my preceding lies begin to contradict each other and then I get confused and slip up.” They didn’t often try to lie because of it. “If they ask we come clean and I’ll hide with my parents until Ricky inevitably tells them what I did.” They laughed mutely at their own joke. It was reassuring to know that Blanche was there to help them should things go south. It was nice to know that there were other people who got this. Ricky had always known about this and it wasn’t exactly the same. “I saw a swordfish go straight through an awning and almost impale an old woman named Gertrude.” They raised an eyebrow at the idea of the upcoming activity. “Where did you get lobster mace from?” They paused for a moment longer before scratching behind their ears and fidgetting a bit. They could never sit still when something big was coming up. “I’ll take the axe then, I guess, unless there’s something better you think I should take instead?” This felt like the weirdest walking dead cosplay ever.

The good part about being cut off from her parents is no one could tell her to do anything anymore. What was Remmy going to do, call up her mom and tell her what she had done? That would result in a mad voicemail she wouldn’t even listen too because it wasn’t like she answered her mother’s calls anyway. She winced at their description of a woman named Gertrude almost turning into a shish kabob via swordfish. What was it, Regan said? Weather patterns her ass. “Um -” Blanche took her keys out of the ignition and stuffed them in her jacket pocket. “A friend. One of my friends that I can’t tell you about,” she added, and hopefully that would put an end to that. She did not want Cece to go all memory-wipe on her ass. Raising an eyebrow as she got out of the car. “You want the axe? I mean…” It wasn’t that she doubted they could use the axe to their advantage, it was just a little more close for comfort if they did get into some crabby trouble. “That should be fine. I want to take a chunk out of one of’em anyway.” She glanced down the rocks, to the beach, spotting the chest. Blanche pointed. “There she is. Stupid thing.”

Grabbing the axe, Winston paused for a second before scooping up the hair spray and some candlelighters too. Y’know. Just in case. Fire seemed to work fine, though Winston wasn’t sure that they really wanted a repeat display of the other night. They’d felt exhausted for hours afterwards before sleeping for 12 hours. “I’m hoping that we don’t even need this,” Winston replied, praying to whatever gods actually existed that there wasn’t about to be some vicious crustaceans that were going to make their lives a misery. Stepping away from the car, Winston made sure that they only had the absolutely necessary things with them. Phone, inhaler, axe, hair spray, candle lighters, y’know the essentials. “How do you want to do this?” Winston asked as they slowly crept towards the rocks that overlooked the beach, hoping to get a better view. For the moment everything seemed relatively clear, but there was a lot that they still couldn’t see. “You’ve got a plan right?”

Blanche relaxed half a bit when Winston grabbed the candlelighters and her can of hairspray. Shit was cheap, that could set anything on fire. She glanced out at the chest before glancing at them when they asked her what her plan was. Somehow, she didn’t think would would be helpful to tell them that she was just going to be like Nike and just do it. Just get down, rush to the chest, snap her photos, kill a lobster when the inevitably came to try and chop their limbs off…. She just needed to make it sound more formulaic than that. That would make Winston feel better. “Um.” Which all would have been fine and good if she could think of a better way to do it. “Well….” She squinted down at the sand and could itty bits of remains of lobster from the last time she’d been here. The acid, plus the other Karkinoid feasting on each other, there wasn’t much left. She patted her pockets. Mace in one, cell phone in the other. Shivering slightly, “All that’s left is to just do it now. There’s a bathroom over that way on the beach where we can run and hide if it’s too much.” Blanche shrugged, before carefully sitting down on the edge and pushing herself off so she could carefully climb. “Careful, the rocks are slippery, it’s a miracle I didn’t break something the last time I flew down them at top speed.”

Pausing, Winston moved through the rocks as carefully as they possibly could. “Ok, just … just do it.” Winston felt their heart race. They felt blood surge around their body. They felt adrenaline roar. They could feel everything tense as they moved down towards the beach. A can of hair spray in one hand and a fire axe in the other. This was perhaps the bizarrest they had ever picture themselves. A nervous bead of sweat trickled down their left temple and rolled off their jawline. “Just do it. Just do it.” They weren’t sure why they were repeating that. Honestly it wasn’t making this much better. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything else to my ankle unless I can absolutely see no other option.” They were joking of course. “There doesn’t seem like there’s anything around, let’s just get in and out.” They moved off from their hiding spot, slipping down the beach as silently as they could. Unaware of anything else there as of yet. They hoped that wasn’t just about to change. “How close do you want to get?” they asked Blanche, adjusting their glasses to sit more comfortably on their face.

“As god as my witness, if you hurt your ankle again, I will - “ Blanche was going to say kill you but that somehow didn’t seem appropriate. She dropped down onto the frozen sand and looked at them. “ - I’ll - don’t hurt your ankle again, I can’t pick you up and then I’ll have to call 9-1-1 and then the police and firemen are going to show up and it’s going to really not end well.” Or maybe she was getting ahead of herself and needed to chill out. Blanche’s palms were were starting to get sweaty, and she rubbed them on her thighs anxiously, glancing out at the chest. “I dunno, 10 feet, maybe? You think that’s too close? My iphone has a great camera and can zoom.” Maybe, after all this was over, she should invest in an actual camera. Funnily enough, it was going to be easier to get a gun rather than get a camera. “C’mon. Let’s get this over with - you’ll hear the clicking.” Blanche glanced at them, before patting them on the shoulder and strode forward. Cece had let her lead the way, and she did, so she was going to just… just do it again! Perfect.

“I promise that I will do everything that I possibly can to avoid injuring my ankle again, because I don’t want to be hobbling around on a busted leg when giant crustaceans called Karkinoids try and cut me in two.” Maybe Winston was being dramatic, but they didn’t feel like they were being dramatic. “At least we’ll probably have some signal here, after all, this is a beach right. Why wouldn’t you get signal at the beach?” Winston was almost too afraid to look at their phone at this point. They considered how close too close really was. Honestly, Winston thought that they were too close right now, but they weren’t about to chicken out in front of Blanche after they had been the one that had insisted that she couldn’t possibly go on her own. “I can deal with ten feet I think,” Winston replied after chewing their cheeks for a second, “let’s go,” they agreed as they set off again across the beach. They followed after Blanche, craning their neck for crabs or lobsters or anything with claws.

Blanche snorted. After this was over, she was going to have to tell Winston they were funny. Because they were - especially in the face of danger. That had to count for something. Maybe a merit badge for facing adversity. “We have signal, I looked before I jumped down here,” Blanche assured them. At least, she had signal. She wouldn’t know about their stupid andriod phone. They moved down the beach, inching closer and closer to the chest. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, but she decided that she didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid of anything! If she wasn’t afraid of anything than some stupid lobster wasn’t going to prevent her from doing what she wanted. Fuck that! It was easier to go on a tangent in her head than it was to actually follow it. Surprisingly enough, they’d gotten pretty far before the fucking clicking started and she went rigid on the spot. Blanche cursed quietly, stuffing her hand in her pocket and pulling out her phone, shoving it to Winston. “Take the photos, I’ll spray the stupid things and see if it gets them to back off. They like to eat each other once one is dead,” Blanche said, quickly - she didn’t know if anything she said had come out clearly because she was talking very, very quickly. Low and behold, there were the crabs. Lobsters. Karkinoids. Whatevers. There was only a couple, thank god. But who knew where the others were. Blanche had her mace out and had it pointed in the right direction and sprayed. Better melt them now before they got too close. The unfortunately familiar smell of burning burning lobster filled her nose. “Don’t forget to focus the camera!” She called, eyes darting around the beach for more crustaceans.

“Ok, good, because although I’m not sure what a cop would do against a massive armoured crab, I do know that I’ll feel much better risking my life if there’s someone to yeet me out if you get my meaning.” Winston wondered how many cops had seen these things, why was it that none of these things were ever discussed? Why had they never realised how dangerous a place they were living in until now. If none of the last few weeks had happened, would they have continued living in denial indefinitely? As they crept closer and closer, they couldn’t help but keep their ears pricked. They could hear the clicking as they got close. They were about to complain that they were the one taking the photos when they realised that this meant that they weren’t going to have to be dealing with the crab things. Winston fumbled with their phone, pulling up the camera that they knew was supposed to be superior to an iPhone camera although at this moment it was taking way too long to focus. Sprinting closer, they tried to be quick, they didn’t want Blanche to get hurt because they were too slow. Their hand shaking, Winston tried to take a deep breath, before snapping several shots of the chest. “How many of these do you want?” they shouted Blanche’s way.

Ewwww. She’d been right in saying that they would eat each other because now that’s exactly what the other one was doing. Blanche wrinkled her nose, keeping careful watch as she turned her head to check on Winston briefly. “Take pictures of each side of the chest. And one from above, too! And don’t touch it!” Blanche didn��t think the warning to Winston was completely needed at all, but it never hurt. She crept closer to the crab that was still alive and clicking, before it’s head snapped up to look at her and she sprayed it in the face. Blanche realized she was certainly not fucking around. The thing twitched and wailed slightly before falling down dead. “Gross, gross, gross!” She mumbled, making a face before looking for more of its brethren that she could take out. Figuring Winston was done with the photos, she called out to them. “Alright, c’mere. Before the rest of the Krusty Krew get here. I need the axe, I want a claw.” she nudged one of them with her foot. Onces face had completely dissolved because of Cece’s acid, but the other one… It might work.

Winston sprung into action, circling around the chest taking photos from each side. They could thank their lucky stars that they were relatively tall and therefore easily able to lean over and take photos of the chest. It occurred to them in that very moment that they could’ve simply placed a camera on one of the drones that they had back at the house and done this with that. Apparently they were an idiot. Not allowing themselves to have time to regret their foolishness however, Winston dashed away from the chest a few moments after snapping their final photos. “I think I’ve got enough,” they said, slightly out of breath but surprised that their fitness had improved a little, maybe running for their life would actually have some long term benefits. As they arrived by Blanche’s side, they raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you joking?” they asked, knowing full well that she wasn’t. They gave her a look, before sighing and handing them the axe. “Fine, just hurry up before more of them find us.”

Blanche hoped they were right, but knew that she had to trust them. They definitely knew how to take photos on an iphone. Maybe she was just nervous. Blanche shook her worry off and shot them an equally withering look until they handed her the axe. “I need proof for Regan,” she said flatly. She did make it snappy, though. Deciding last moment that a claw was going to be too much of a bitch and a half to carry back (and heavy), Blanche went for the head. Or well, she stopped before she swung the axe, looking back at Winston. “... Don’t watch me chop off its head.” She mumbled, before waiting a moment, and swinging the axe. Gross. Gross. Gross. Her stomach churned, “ Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.” Blanche shuddered slightly, before handing the axe back, before unzipping her jacket, shrugging it off, and collecting the now fallen head in it. Glad she had worn a sweater, she stood, looking up and down the beach. “Do you want to make a run for it back?” Blanche asked, flatly. “Before more of them decide to pop up and try to snap us in half?”

Winston had to admit that the last thing they expected was for all of this to go this well. Though they had been unfortunate enough as to run into Karkinoids, it seemed as if Blanche had been able to deal with them and as they handed their axe over, Winston had to admit there was a gentle sense of awe. “I don’t know who that is but if you need proof then this is probably a pretty sure fire way, although y’know, the denial can be strong. They were watching eagerly when Blanche protested, and with a groan of protest turned their back on the butchery that was taking place. Once Blanche was ready, they nodded. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” They set off towards the car, glad that this had gone so well. Things could be worse.

“If she doesn’t believe me after me bringing her a giant Karkinoid head, I’m projectiling myself off the first cliff I see.” Blanche said, absolutely being dramatic. No one was dead, and they had a lobster head. Hah, Blanche thought, that rhymed. Pleased with the outcome of events, Blanche took off after Winston, trying not to slip and slide on the frozen sand. After all this was over and winter left, Blanche was going to spend a nice day on the beach, alone, and get a tan. No lobsters, no crabs, just one normal day in the fucking - was that more clicking? Blanche glanced over her shoulder. More crab,s but more interested in the caracusses of their fallen friends than them, for the moment. “Gogogo! Before they notice us and King Louis’ head!” Blanche hissed. They slid up to the rocks. “Do you need a boost?” Blanche asked, kindly, as Remmy had done the same for her and Cece the last time they were here.

“Ah yes suicide, the only rational answer to irrational morons who refuse to see the truth.” Winston was sore, sweaty and out of breath. They had been far too close to lobsters for their liking and now they were in the presence of one of their heads. This day was truly turning out to be memorable. As more crabs arrived, Winston moved faster to the rocks and shook their head. “I think I’m tall enough to reach up on my own, I’ll boost you first and then you can help pull me up.” They didn’t give her anytime to argue, they weren’t about to start messing about with those lobsters again and they needed to get out of their quickly before the smell of one of the karkinoids dead brethren attracted some foes.

With no time to argue or say anything sarcastic - because she would have. Probably something giraffe related - Blanche let Winston help boost her up and once again scrambled to the safety of the small cliff. Dumping the head wrapped in her jacket onto the ground, she turned and reached a hand down to help them up. Once the both of them were safely away from where any Karkinoid could get them, Blanche let out a giant sigh of relief. “Holy shit -” She looked at Winston. “- That just worked! We did it! No one lost a limb! Or rolled an ankle!” Blanche pointed to their ankle, maybe a little too excited over the fact that neither of them died or got maimed. She bent, scooped up the lobster head and grabbed her keys to unlock her car and dump the head in the trunk. “Karkinoids my ass.”

#p: blanche #para #wickedswriting #suicide cw #baywatch

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