#❛ vi . | can we speak in flowers ? it would be easier for me to understand . ; ask memes . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years ago

Text

Lilies of the Valley VI

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

“Why is there a missing flower you ask? I have left it out for only you could complete me.”

Release Date: 06/05/20 @ 7 pm

previous ~ next

It had been three days since YN had broken the fever and experienced her heat. The past days had been uneventful mainly, as most of the alphas remained hidden away in the main house. Like a routine, each of the men would swing by to check on her: Taehyung in the morning, Jimin for lunch, and Yoongi at dinner. It had been annoying at first, but YN had become accustomed to their presence which after dwelling on it for some bit she surmised was their plan. Then there lay another issue which had entirely slipped her mind until earlier this morning when she had received a call from her mother.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to hear your voice. You really should call more often we all miss you.”

“I know. Sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

“I was just calling to remind you about your sister’s engagement brunch. Seeing as you didn’t rsvp.”

Shit. “Yeah, um, about that -”

"No excuses. You promised you would go." There was a brief pause before her mother spoke again. "I know you're worried, but it's the 21st-century darling. Mates aren't as important as they used to be. People are a lot more open-minded nowadays."

“I know, Mom.”

“I just miss you so much, YN. It would mean a lot to the family if you showed up. You might regret not being there and your sister has promised that they’ll be no unmated alphas so you don’t have to worry.”

“Alright, mom. I’ll be there.”

Now YN had a little over twenty-four hours to convince her mates to allow her to go alone. It would be easier to steal the crown jewels. Though she appreciated it, the men had been noticeably tenser since her heat and she couldn’t predict how they would react. So, perhaps it would be best to wait this out. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. No point in damaging the delicate peace that had been established between her and the pack.

"You seem distracted," Jimin commented as the two of them sat at the edge of her bed watching some random sitcom YN had settled on. In front of her was a bowl of ramyeon that had been cooked by Seokjin. It hurt her pride to admit that it tasted delicious as if the man needed any more positive qualities to be attributed to him. "I was just wondering how everyone is." If the alphas were still out of commission, it would be an easier escape. The betas were still protective over YN, but less so.

“Ah, about that. We were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner tonight? I promise everyone will be on their best behavior.”

YN doubted that sincerely, but it wouldn’t hurt her to show up. It would better her chances of convincing them, by demonstrating that all the effects of her heat were gone. Though there was one thing to account for. “Is that okay? So soon after their ruts?” YN was sure hormones were bound to be raging and it might not bode well for her either, but Jimin gave her the sweetest of smiles when he said. “Of course, we’d never do anything to put you in harm's way.” How could she not believe him? Even when deep down she knew it was a lie.

It stank. To be entirely honest it wasn't a bad smell, but it was so intense that YN could practically choke on it and that's what made it unpleasant. The manor was less polished than the first time she had been there, but not so. Before it looked like something one would find in the cover of architectural digest, now it simply looked lived in. Even if it was warmer these days, YN still covered up drowning herself in jeans and a large wool sweater. Yoongi hadn't commented anything when he came to pick her up, merely intertwined his hands in hers, and led her towards the dining room. The second she crossed over the threshold, arms swept her up into the air. Jungkook's musky scent filled her senses.

“I missed you.” He said, before placing her back on the ground. It took all her will power, not to recoil from the young alpha and he seemed greatly pleased at that. “Yah, Kookie. Let her be, you stink.” Hoseok scolded, as he helped set the dishes. As YN glanced around she saw everyone settling into their seats, her eyes met Seokjin’s briefly and he flashed her a smile. One that, subconsciously or not, YN returned. However, someone was missing as there were only six in the room.

"Where's Namjoon?" YN asked, looking around. Everyone seemed to stiffen a bit but refrained from answering. Suddenly, YN felt hot breath caress her ears causing her to jump slightly. Namjoon chuckled before placing his arms on her hips, "Right here, Lily." Before she could respond, he moved away towards his seat at the front. YN went to sit between the beta's like last time but found the only available space was between Jungkook and Hoseok. Great. This is going to be a long night. From what little she knew about ruts, YN knew that alphas tended to be a bit needy afterward - especially if they were mated. YN hadn't assumed this would matter much since her partial bond was tied to Jungkook and not the lead alpha, but it seemed to affect them all nonetheless. On the one hand, there were the peering eyes of Namjoon and Jungkook moving his chair ever so slightly closer to hers whenever he thought she wasn't looking. On her other side was Hoseok, whose legs would brush hers under the table.

Then there was Seokjin, who simply smiled at her whenever their eyes met - which was a lot. Even though the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as the first night, it still felt suffocating to her. She was beginning to look forward to the trip, preferring to stay a weekend with her stingy relatives rather than the men.

“Are you alright, YN? You’ve barely touched your food.” Suddenly all eyes were on her, she nodded meekly trying to play it off but the damage had been done.

Hoseok’s palm came to rest on her forehead and she wasn’t sure how he was supposed to check her temperature given how warm he was. “You are a bit warm.”

“Do you not feel good?” Jungkook spoke up beside her, as he tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

“I’m fine. Just a bit warm that’s all.” Immediately Namjoon gestured for the air conditioning to be lowered. All eyes were on her now and despite how uncomfortable it made her, it did present an opportunity. Here goes nothing. "I wanted to speak to all of you about something." The change was minuscule, blink and you'll miss it sort of thing, but had YN been paying attention she might have noticed the darkened look that crossed over then men's faces. How their eyes became hooded in anticipation.

“My sister is engaged and I’m supposed to be attending a family brunch is her honor.” At this all seven of them visibly slackened, tension exiting their bodies.

"That's fantastic," Jimin spoke, lips pulled upward into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Unfortunately I've got work, so I won't be able to meet the family just yet."

Wait. What? “Uh -”

Taehyung's baritone voice echoed loudly, "I can't either. Have to help Jimin." It was then that YN realized she'd been misunderstood. They thought she was asking for accompaniment when all she had been doing was informing them. Cautiously her eyes turned to Yoongi, who merely shrugged. "I'm overdue for a deadline." No.

“Well,” Namjoon cleared his throat. “That settles it then, you’ll be going with us.” If the smile he flashed her was meant to be reassuring, it accomplished the opposite of its goals.

"Promise me, you'll behave." Yoongi wrapped his arms around Hoseok's neck puckering his lips as the lead alpha leaned down to kiss him. "No promises." He smirked, before placing the last of his luggage in the trunk. YN could swear it was a week-long trip with the number of clothes the men had packed, not to mention all the last-minute wardrobe changes they had forced on her. There was a bigger issue that hung over YN's head, much larger than her being stuck with only Alphas for the entire weekend, it was that her family wasn't aware of her current living situation. All they knew of her 'mates' was the incident and YN didn't think they'd be so inclined to welcome them into their home.

So, they had booked a hotel. It didn't really address the issue but considering YN was certainly going to arrive late, her childhood home was bound to be taken up by relatives. Once in the car, the atmosphere was quite tense though that was mainly because Jungkook had almost thrown a temper tantrum when he saw that YN was sitting between Seokjin and Namjoon. Not him. "Jungkook if you don't quell your hormones, I will buy you a literal dog house for you to sleep in." Seokjin threatened, earning a few snickers and a pout from the young alpha.

YN stared out the window seeing the houses move by as Namjoon scrolled on his phone. Whenever YN was in cars she always thought of what she should do if an escape needed to be made. The fault of that might be on all the spy movies she grew up watching. The other might be the Omega protection course she was forced to take in college which engrained survival skills such as: covering up, self-defense, and how to escape a kidnapper. Fun things. She was beginning to wonder whether or not escape was possible when it dawned on YN that her eyes had been situated on Namjoon’s phone the entire time. The man in question had noticed as well.

“Sorry, I zoned out.” She rushed to apologize.

Namjoon smiled, “Don’t worry I noticed. I was just setting up an appointment with Dr. Lee.” Who? "She's an OB. I spoke with her to get you off suppressants." Ah, right. YN had yet to tell them that her prolonged heat was more her due to misuse than the suppressants. Sensing her discomfort, Seokjin grabbed her hand and squeezed it tenderly. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out." YN couldn't figure out if he'd been referring to the suppressants, the family visit, or everything that was happening. It didn't matter, YN didn't believe him for a second.

Instead, YN took a deep breath and closed her eyes, preferring sleep than having any more interactions with the alphas. She knew once they arrived, she would need all her strength. Her family wasn't bound to be happy at not being informed at their daughter's mating status - not to mention who her mates were. It seems Jungkook was wearing headphones for YN could barely pick up the rhythmic thumping of bass, but that was enough to lull her into a nap.

When YN awoke, she found herself strewn across the laps of the men. Though she had not opened her eyes, she sensed her head was resting on Hoseok's with her feet at Namjoon's. Delicate hands weaved themselves through her hair, their calming nature causing YN to shift in order to feel the sensation more. She swore she heard the muttering of a 'cute' before the glare of the sun hit her face, forcing her awake. "C'mon, baby. Rise and shine." Yn grunted and stood up, the back passenger door had been opened but all of them had remained in place. In her groggy state, YN rubbed her eyes and asked. "Why'd you move me?" Instead of an answer, she got a pat on the back and Jungkook tugged her off the car.

YN's eyes widened in recognition as she saw Yeong-gwang's school grounds in front of her. It had been years, but the school's arches remained as pristine as she remembered them. Its Rococo inspired architecture is a clear demonstration of its wealth and status. YN's parents could just barely afford tuition and only received a scholarship because her grandfather attended. "What are we doing here?" She wanted to move her eyes away, but they remained frozen on the platinum gates. A place that once held such fond memories was now only a place of tragedy for her.

“Your sister wanted to meet here.” And as if having called on the devil herself, she appeared.

“What the fuck are they doing here?!”

Sorry this update is short, but that’s because the next one is going to be long and important.

Tag List:

@hxsxxk-180294 @saxpam24 @trixsterbi @mel-gonzalez07 @cstobitk @dionysus-png @taekimxx @moonlitehunter @joonie-grim @wonderlace19 @sugashaye @rosey-roseu @mintaemark @ciderxi @soloikeadates

@alex--awesome--22

577 notes · View notes

julieloveupstead · 3 years ago

Text

"So Happy and So Grateful and in Love" - Part 2

Decription: The best day in their lifes.

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

Prov Hailey:

We decided to get married on the Greek island of Zakynthos because of my background. Jay is very interested in Greek history and even asks me to learn the language, which is sweet of him. This is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him. The fact that he wanted to learn every little detail about me and now the place where I was born is amazing. Even just thinking about those tiny details in which pure love from his side spoke, tears come to my eyes. I closed my eyes for the hundredth time not to spoil the makeup that Stella put on me a few minutes ago and breathed in the fresh Mediterranean air. I was thankful that we weren't getting married in a church in Chicago with lots of guests, but with some of the closest people in our lives in Greece outside in front of such a beautiful view of the sea. I can't believe this is actually happening, that in a few minutes I will stand in front of the man who is my everything, my anchor, my rock, my peace and my soulmate and vow to love him to the grave.

- Are you all right Goldilocks? - I heard the question, so I opened my eyes and met the brown eyes of desk Serge

desk who has always been a role model for me for so many years and was like a mom to me. I owed so many things to Trudy Platt and I could not even imagine missing her on the most important day of my life. I gave her a sincere and grateful smile and she returned the favor which is something very special about her and something that doesn't happen very often which makes me feel even more special that I am one of the few who can see the other side of her.

- It's all right Serge - I wiped a tear that ran down my cheek. - Stella is going to murder me, this is the fourth time she has to fix my make up. - I joked and we both laughed.

- It's true - admitted Platt. We stood in silence for a moment, staring at the view in front of us. - Hailey, I know I'm not always nice and pleasant, and I'm not often complimentary, but I'm very proud of you as a beautiful, confident woman. I am happy to be a part of your transformation. - She looked at me with tear-stained eyes. Damn, this is the first time I've seen our sergeant like this. - Hailey you know I never had the chance to have a child, but I wish I had a daughter like you - unfortunately Kidd is going to kill me because I cried again, damn. I didn't know what to say to those words so I just decided to give a big hug to the woman who saved my life many years ago, who gave me purpose in life.

- Serge, you don't even know how much your words mean to me," my voice was breaking, but I kept talking. - I love my mother, but many events in the past have made my relationship with her far from a mother-daughter relationship and I have come to terms with that, but then you came along and you are not very patient - I prefer not to risk her anger even on my wedding day. - but I feel like I have a better relationship with you than I did with my birth mother. I am grateful to you for so many things. I wish my mother was like you, Trudy, and you don't know how much it means to me that you're here. Platt pulled me close, and I snuggled into her. I don't know how long we stood there, but we only pulled away when we heard a quiet grunt from somewhere on the side. I looked in that direction and saw Will standing there with a big smile and Vi standing to the side of him with a bouquet of flowers for me.

- Hailey remember that if you tell anyone about this I will deny everything - I looked at the Sergeant, who was deadly serious.

- Copy you - I nodded, and in a moment she was no longer with me.

- Are you ready? - asked Vi coming up to me together with Will. I nodded as a sign that I was ready. - Here - she handed me a bouquet of white and pale pink roses. I took it and leaned over to smell it.

- Well good, because I can hear the bells starting to ring already - Vanessa said with a smile, gave me a kiss on the cheek and walked away leaving me with Jay's brother.

- Hailey

- Will

we said at the same time and burst out laughing.

- Speak first - he showed me to start.

- Okay, so I wanted to thank you for trusting me with Jay, I promise I'll never hurt him and thank you for accepting me into your family - I wanted to say something else but my voice started to break again. Damn this was supposed to be my happiest day ever and I wasn't supposed to cry and today I'm doing nothing but crying. Ehh.

- Oh Hailey it is my honor to have you become a member of our family of two. - He laughed confidently at the memory - For many years me and Jay didn't have a good relationship. We both did a lot of stupid things. Jay changed completely after his mom died, he and his dad got along badly, I left them both, and most of all what happened in Afghanistan, the thing with Erin and everything else caused Jay to come to darkness. I was afraid of losing him, another family member, my only family - I could see how much it was costing Will to revisit those bad memories. I didn't feel any better. Every time I recall the moment I meet his little brother. I realize how little we would have missed having Jay with us. - Ehh - Will wiped a quick tear running down his cheek. My eyes welled up with tears too, once again. Damn, how much can you cry? - And then you showed up and everything changed. My brother finally saw that there was something to fight for. I got my brother back. Smiling, full of life, and it's all because of you, Hailey. - I tried really hard to keep the tears from flowing, but I couldn't. All I could do was hug Will tightly. - We have to go now," I pulled away from him when I heard the wedding music play. I hurriedly wiped away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks and nodded because that was all I could say. Will gave me his arm, which I accepted, and we both walked slowly down the aisle.

As I walked I loved the smiling faces of not friends, but family. And never before have I been so grateful for them as I am now. Being here I realized how lucky I was and that after all the years of hell I had been through fate was finally smiling down on me and something inside me told me that this was just the beginning. When I stood next to Jay and looked into his eyes I saw glassy green eyes and in them was infinite love.

- Are you okay? - I read the question from his gaze and nodded in response. Even after six years, I can't get over how much he cares about my well-being, my opinion. I'm not exaggerating here to say that he treats me like a princess. How did I ever deserve this man?

- Well," began the priest, to whom I turned my attention. - We have come here to witness these two people in love pledging their love to each other until the grave. Looking at them, I don't need to know them personally to know that the feeling they have for each other is unique and unprecedented. You, since you are here, probably feel the same way, and since you know them better than I do, you will agree that they love each other very much, and today's ceremony is just the icing on the cake of their relationship. - He paused so the guests could nod their heads in agreement. - Now it was time for the bride and groom to take the floor. Hailey will you begin?

Oh my gosh, I can feel my throat tightening and now all the guests have gone quiet, even though the ceremony is outdoors, I can't hear anything but the sound of the sea behind me. I breathed deeply a few times to calm down my thoughts and to be able to form coherent sentences. I would like to say so much to him, to express how much I love him, but I am afraid that I will not find the words to express how much I love him and how much he means to me. I hope that what I say now will be enough.

- Where do I begin here? Ehh. When we first met in that bank we were at a completely different stage of life, but by some miracle we caught a connection. I immediately noticed that underneath the mask of a closed off, uncompromising, former wtereran, cold and withdrawn was hiding a kind-hearted, sparring and sensitive man who had lost his way a bit and was broken by demons from his past. It was hard to get through your barriers and get you to trust me, but when it finally happened I was overjoyed. There were times I was scared for you and then my heart would break into little pieces because for some reason you were already close to me then. I, on the other hand, was no better. I didn't tell you much of my demons, but I always knew that if I had to share my story with anyone it would be you and only you. Because there's no one I trust more than you. From the first day I met you. And maybe it took four years, two gunshots, a kidnapping and my move to New York for us to understand, for me to understand that you are more than a work partner to me, more than a friend. So that I would have the courage to be in tune with my feelings, because our job really, I don't know when it could be our last day. When you met me I was, in fact I tried to be tough, strong, withdrawn and above it all. Life has thwarted me many times, since I was a child I had to learn to hold my head high and fight, I was broken, I healed many wounds, some new ones appeared but in the end thanks to your help I got back on my feet, wounds heal, although I still have a lot of work to do to fully recover but with you all the stages, this war for myself is easier. For years I did not allow myself to think that I could fall in love, that I would be standing in a wedding dress in front of a man whom I love, with whom I want to live my life and the thought of starting a family will germinate in my head. And this prospect, which only 6 years ago scared me, now I look forward to what the future will bring with you. - I finished. I let out a breath that I didn't even know I had been holding in. I was so offered by my monologue that I forgot about the presence of those gathered. I wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks and looked at Jay, who had a look of boundless love in his eyes, and the tears streaming down his cheeks were going into oblivion. I can't ever get over how much love this boy has for me. It's impossible to comprehend how special it makes me feel.

- Okay, now it's my turn," he grunted, his smile always reserved for me, full of love and something I couldn't name until now. - I've never been good at saying what I feel, but I'll try now - he joked - You came into my life unexpectedly, at the worst time of my life, when I didn't care about anything. I was falling into a black abyss, but every day I came out of it. At first I didn't know why your opinion mattered the most to me, why every thought was about you, why everything I did was with you in mind. I'm a veteran of the military for me jumping into the fire of bullets, entering into different dangerous situations was not a problem before, I did it with my eyes closed, but since the battle in that tunnel those 4 years ago after my death, when I saw your face, scared and broken, something changed in me. I wasn't so willing to risk anymore, in some strange way you made me want to be more careful, but then this thing with Angela came up and then I realized I had to fight just for you, I wanted so much to see your beautiful ocean blue eyes, a smile that is the most beautiful and wonderful I have ever seen and heard. You are the first thought and the last. I'm in love with you like crazy, I can't think, sleep, eat and function normally and only when you left for New York it came to me that I can't and don't want to lose you. Everyone but you. You don't even know how much it means to me and maybe it's selfish of me, but I'm overjoyed that you chose me, that you honored me with the chance to get close to you and I promise that you will never regret it. I will spend every hour, minute and second to bring a smile to your face, tears, but only those of happiness and I will do everything to make you happy, because only you matter to me. I love no one more in my life than I love you and our baby - his gaze fell on my belly. That's how I took the test yesterday and it turned out that under my heart is the fruit of our, my and Jay's love. He was by my side every step of the way from buying the test to the result. He was so happy and I was with him. Now we are going to be a real family. The three of us. - The two of you are my world and will be my world to the end of my life," he finished.

My heart stopped with love, I've never heard such beautiful words and every time I think I can't love him more it always turns out how wrong I was. Jay let go of my hand that he had been holding and used his thumb to gently wipe away the tears from my cheek. At this gesture I closed my eyes to completely surrender to the feel of his warm skin on my cheek.

- Now it's time for the bride and groom to exchange their wedding rings," said the priest, who I had forgotten about a few minutes before, just like the rest of the people in the church. - I'll ask the best man to give them to me. - Mouse took a small maroon square box from his jacket pocket and handed it to the clergyman, who took it. - Please - he opened the item and waited for us to take one each. I turned the ring over and noticed that they were engraved with "I'll folow you anywhere" our password in Jay's handwriting. I looked at Jay' who just smiled widely at me which I reciprocated. I shook Jay's hand, he caught it gently as if I was made of the most fragile piece of glass. Little gestures like that make me smile all the time.

- I'll folow you anywhere - he said, slipping the ring onto my ring finger.

- I'll folow you anywhere - I repeated after him.

- Now the bride and groom can kiss each other - and without any delay we both joined our lips in a kiss and even though we have exchanged these kisses from millions each one was special and so is this time.

- I love you Jay - I said as I pulled away from him.

- I love you Hailey - he said and kissed me again.

Nothing else mattered, just him, me, and this little life that was beginning to grow inside me. Whatever the future held for us it would always be me, him and our baby until the end of the world and one day more.

#upstead fic #upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #jay x hailey

16 notes · View notes

sign-from-god-complex · 5 years ago

Text

Self-Control

Summary: The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and though Virgil has come all this way he’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other—so much can change in 15 years; so much has changed in 15 years.

Though, maybe things haven’t changed quite as much as Virgil thinks.

(AKA, a past-punk moxiety AU)

Pairing: Moxiety!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, homophobia and nondescript injury. Vague allusions to past abuse (or at least mentions of terrible parental figures). Brief discussion of a parental figure having died.

AO3 Link

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

It isn’t at all the place Virgil imagined for him. The flower pots all sit in a row on the steps, red ivy climbing up the fence like spider webs and a garden hose curled up on a perfectly manicured front lawn. Everything about it is picturesque—almost to the point of insanity—and as a butterfly floats by and lands delicately on a ladder leaning onto the fence from the backyard, Virgil wonders what in the world could have changed Patton so drastically to have led to this.

There’s an image, in his head, of teenage rebellion—of 2 am milkshakes and stolen bicycles, of broken glass and laughter, so much laughter, as they took advantage of what time they had left to live. It doesn’t fit in with this pastel blue sky in this pastel blue neighbourhood full of pastel blue people but he knew that it wouldn’t. He knew things would be different.

Though, that doesn’t make it all that much easier to comprehend.

Vaguely, Virgil hears the sound of excited squeals coming from the yard and he ducks his head over the fence just a bit, catching sight of a young girl flying off of a trampoline at a hundred miles an hour—hair a mess and grin bright.

The kid must be Patton’s—it’s unmistakable, that dark skin and reckless look, like she’s ready to take the world on at any moment—and Virgil can’t help but remember the nights the two of them spent drinking and talking and vowing to never tie themselves down to anyone or anything.

He supposes no one really does know what they want when they’re young.

It takes Virgil a while to gather up the courage to knock—he’s all too aware of his leather jacket and patches, his dyed hair and piercings. He couldn’t feel more out of place in this suburban neighbourhood and he hadn’t thought that around Patton he could ever feel out of place.

In the end, though, the choice is taken out of his hands. The young girl throws open the door, clearly looking to haul ass across the street to the park—the kind of place he and Pat would have smoked, once upon a time—but is stopped short as she notices Virgil standing in her way. There’s a moment where he’s afraid she’s going to scream or cry or something else he would have no clue how to deal with but instead, she just grins cheekily.

“Dad!” she yells, barely turning her head to face the soft white interior of the house, “There’s a man here for you!”

The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and for a moment Virgil is so afraid that he’s gotten the wrong house or that Patton won’t want to see him and though he’s come all this way he’s struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other; so much can change in 15 years.

“Riley, what do you mean? What ma-”

And then, there he is.

His face is void of any of the makeup he used to wear, his hair faded from turquoise to its natural black and left curly in a way he wouldn’t have been caught dead with once. And, over the top of a graphic t-shirt displaying some characters Virgil doesn’t recognise and unripped light-wash jeans, Patton had thrown a familiar blue flannel.

Virgil remembers that flannel, worn under heavy coats to help fight the evening windchill, tied around Patton’s waist as they scaled fences just to see if they could and left in a pile on the floor in his room as they finally escaped back to comfort and warmth. Honestly, he’s just surprised it still fits.

Patton does nothing but stare at him for a moment, his lips parted in shock and his eyes big and wide and god, looking at him now is like falling in love all over again.

“Virge?” he breathes, a melody of disbelief in his voice. Virgil can’t exactly blame him—it isn’t as if he’s someone Patton was expecting to see.

Virgil rubs over the fabric of his jacket, a nervous tick he’d had even back then. “Hey, uh… surprise?”

And in an instant, has Patton pitched forward right into his arms. Virgil catches him—of course, he catches him, he’ll always catch him—and Patton laughs, displaying some level of joy Virgil hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until now. He can feel Patton breathing against his neck as they hold each other and, distantly, the sound of light footsteps echoes away and up the stairs.

They pull apart, eventually, the separation like trying to peel a sticker off of a concrete wall—the easiest kind of graffiti to enact while still being tricky to remove. The distance Patton puts between them seems almost reluctant and Virgil wishes he had the courage to tell him to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. It’s soft, like the white fuzzy carpet of his new home and Virgil realises suddenly he’d been so caught up in him that he’d forgotten that this him wasn’t the same.

Patton had always been soft but not soft like this. He’d been soft in redirected conversation and distractions, in Virgil’s favourite TV show on in the background and stolen chocolate bars in his pocket, guiding hands mimicking steady breathing. This Patton seems soft around the edges—worn down, almost—and Virgil feels those 15 years as more of a lifetime.

He doesn’t answer the question—truthfully because he’s not sure how, not sure where to start with the mess of events and near-misses and regrets that finally brought him here to Patton’s doorstep—and instead replies with one of his own.

“My mom died. Did you know that?” It’s a stupid thing to ask, they hadn’t spoken to each other in 15 years, there was no way he could have known. Virgil asks it all the same though. “I have her money now. Didn’t write me out of the will even after everything we went through. Guess she didn’t want how much she hated me and my “lifestyle” to come out even after she’d kicked it.”

Patton just looks at him. There’s something sad in his eyes, maybe, something regretful or sympathetic, something holding years worth of apologies and love confessions in not so many words that every night they'd pretended they hadn’t said.

Maybe not, he isn’t sure. He’s never been very good with stuff like that.

“You owe me a party,” Virgil continues impulsively. Patton grins and shakes his head and the urge to kiss him is so strong for a moment Virgil can’t breathe. “You promised me when she was dead and I didn’t have to worry about her anymore we’d have a party. With cheerio sausages and expensive liquor and-”

“Sparkling juice and bad karaoke,” Patton interrupts, “I remember.”

Nobody speaks. Patton doesn’t invite him in and Virgil doesn’t ask for fear of being turned away.

He knows there’s an element of worship in the way he looks at Patton. It’s worship like the way farmers pray for rain in a drought, worship like how sailors are drawn to the rough turn of the sea and worship like teens relishing in the night when they’re bored and alone and angry, yearning for freedom that only comes in years they feel they don’t have left.

But now, dark eyes gazing at him and breath catching in his throat, Virgil thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

“I have a kid now, you know?” Patton asks and Virgil knows instantly that question isn’t about the party but everything that comes after it—all of the hundreds of possibilities that stem from this decision that neither of them can quite voice out loud, “Single parent. I made a lot of bad choices in those 15 years—gave myself away to a few people who didn’t deserve it, maybe—but she’s… helped. I want to be better for her.”

Virgil nods. It’s a little hard to reconcile teenage Patton with this one but he tries anyway. He has to; he owes him that much.

(In truth, he owes him so, so much more than that but right now this is all he feels he can give.)

“Yeah, uh, Riley, right? Seems like a sweet kid, if not a bit mischievous.” Virgil smirks slightly, somewhere between teasing and nostalgic. “Kind of like you were.”

At that, Patton grins and he laughs and it feels right—feels like early morning rainfall and crackling log fires, like the burning in your lungs as you run and the way your eyes slowly drift shut against your will when you’re up too late, like every ending and beginning in just a moment.

He shakes his head again, almost affectionately chastising and there’s a stuttering of Virgil’s hand as he goes to reach out, to brush a strand of hair away from Patton’s face but stops himself halfway through.

Patton doesn’t seem to notice. Virgil once thought Patton never noticed—never saw the longing in his eyes and the flushed red of his cheeks as they sat side-by-side on a park bench in the middle of winter, running from the heat of harsh words and high expectations.

He wonders if maybe that was naive.

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure to raise her right,” Patton jokes and his smile is amused—fond and familiar like the worn leather of Virgil’s jacket between his fingers, “If she’s not questioning authority and getting me called down to the office at least once a term then I’m doing something wrong.”

With that, there’s a flash—just a moment—of principal visits and angry rants, of cutting class to sit with the other in the silence of the school office and knowing, that outside of the two of them, there was no one else to come. And he thinks of Patton—this Patton, not his Patton—taking up the empty space of that office with kind reassurances and defensive words, protecting and protecting and protecting, fighting for Riley the way he had Virgil.

Parenthood suits Patton more than he’d first thought, perhaps.

“Ah, office visits.” Virgil nods sagely and can’t resist the quirk of his lips as Patton giggles. “A hallmark of a punk child. Next thing you know she’ll be dyeing her hair, running off to the park in the middle of the night to meet up with boys.”

It’s obviously a joke but still, Patton quietens, taking on a more contemplative look. It seems as if he’s remembering something and Virgil needs, all at once, to make sure he’s more to Patton than simply that expression on his face in the midst of just another day.

“Yeah,” Patton finally says, “Yeah, she was thinking purple actually.”

Virgil doesn’t reach up and drag a hand through his own purple hair but it’s a near thing. He hums—soft and low. “Good taste.”

A heavy silence rings in his ears—an echo of all the memories they share and all the memories they don’t, a collision of black and pastel blue on a canvas already painted with teenage angst and first love—and Virgil can't stand the way it feels like it may be too much to overcome. It isn't; he won't let it be.

He takes a step closer and Patton doesn’t move away, just lets Virgil crowd him against the doorframe till their chests are pressed together and each shuddering breath is a joint effort.

“I’d like to get to know her. If you’ll let me,” he murmurs and he’s so close that he can hear Patton’s heartbeat pick up as he slides a hand up to brush at the strands of hair against Virgil’s neck.

The air between them is tense and pulled tight—gazes tracing over freckles and foundation, their skin warm with each point of contact and the rushing of blood in Virgil’s ears drowning out the pounding of his heart. Each second that goes by without comment feels to Virgil like sinking into quicksand, like fingers losing their grip on the edge of a building and threatening to let him fall.

But, before he can draw away, throw up his walls and stumble his way through apologies like they’re nothing more than kids again, Patton tugs him forward and, softly, he brings their lips together.

The kiss is a teenage fantasy come true, the culmination of every moment—under streetlights or under blankets or under nothing more than the cover of night itself—where Virgil longed to reach out and tell Patton that he wanted to kiss him until the world faded away and all that he could focus on was the taste of cherry red lipstick and the joy and love pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat.

It's the comfort in late-night knocking, Patton taking Virgil in and patching him up and holding him as he cries because he has a mother that doesn’t love him and a father that’s always absent and a world that doesn’t care, muttered reassurances a quiet backdrop to his sobs.

It's the warmth in drinking their way through meagre retail paychecks, Patton’s soft touches like fire against his skin and the thread of restraint holding Virgil back from blurting out a love confession worn down to something as thin as a spiderweb and just as delicate.

It's the exhilaration in grocery store runs with no money and bags filled with spray paint cans, their gloved hands clasped tight as they race against the biting evening wind, giving in to the urge to let out a cry of victory that bounces off the empty alley walls.

So, yes, it’s the culmination of years of pining but it’s more than that too. It’s an apology, it’s acceptance and it’s an offer of a future, to stay here with them.

“I think I’d like that,” Patton gasps as he pulls away and Virgil’s so enamoured even after all these years that he barely knows what to say, “For you to know her, I mean. She’d like you. She’s like you, or at least the way you used to be—always a bit loose with self-control.”

Virgil doesn’t tell Patton that all his self-control had been going towards keeping himself from telling him he loved him. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

Slowly, Virgil blinks and he nods and it’s all he can do to keep himself standing as Patton beams up at him with a smile reminiscent of stars colliding—bright and beautiful enough to take his breath away. And suddenly Virgil feels like maybe he can fit in here, that maybe he can fit in anywhere he needs to if Patton keeps looking at him like that.

He smiles back, smaller than the one he’d received but the way Patton’s eyes light up makes Virgil feel like maybe that doesn’t really matter. “Okay, yeah. I want that; I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Patton parrots and he’s barely holding back giggles, Virgil can tell. It’s okay though because he feels it too—that sense of happiness and disbelief that has almost no other way to present itself—and giving in feels more like an inevitability.

So, laughing and hands joined together, Patton pulls Virgil inside to the soft white of his suburban home. And he closes the door.

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

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @welpweregonnadie @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @harleyquinnamiright @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree @tired-and-probably-crying .

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #lo can write #blease read this guys I worked really really hard on it #they're just. soft and in love #virgil has Many Feelings

476 notes · View notes

morwensteelsheen · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it.

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me.

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters’ internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever).

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown.

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel.

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again.

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc.

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn:

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship �� first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc).

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely.

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways.

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on.

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare.

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life.

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot!

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can.

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien.

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him.

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here).

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds:

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic.

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident.

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing.

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic.

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important.

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture.

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great.

Their first impressions of one another are very important.

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant.

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.”

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant.

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her.

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever.

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does!

But then there’s this line:

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big.

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf.

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there.

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense?

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc.

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.

#oh my god this is ridiculously long i am SO sorry #asks #faramir #Éowyn

9 notes · View notes

dreamersdownfall · 3 years ago

Text

thirteen truths and lies that i have told myself these long years; for even cold lies need to be held close. even arrowhead truths must fall apart like petals.

i. truth; my body is shuffling cards that fall apart and come together, kissed by whatever luck they find. misfortune means the cards slide down, the house of paper crumbles, and my heart freefalls. i like to think it falls into the eyes of the queen of diamonds i always seem to draw.

ii. lie; longing hurts more when it's found in lack of touch over lack of company. lie. i can still draw broken hearts over my palm and pretend my fingers are yours. my fingertips can touch my mouth and pretend it is your own; i cannot stare at my reflection and pretend you are here. i cannot pretend my answering thoughts and emotions are you speaking. i cannot pretend you are really here, but my hands can. my hands can. (they hold themselves with reverent fingers i call yours).

iii. truth; heartbreak comes in thirteen shades. a holy number, thirteen. under that dark, unlucky reputation, it still holds colour. i've only ever known one shade of misery and it's the colour of your eyes. i wonder when i'll see the others. when i'll feel them wrap around my heart, let them tint it until it's unrecognizable.

iv. lie; loneliness feels like emptiness. i sometimes think being lonely feels like a sort of fullness—of all the emotions i will never let myself feel. of all the people i can never have. an absolute breaking of my heart until i can respire in the pain, too. the ache. when i rub it, it hurts worse.

v. truth; love is a longing i can wrap around your neck like a scarf. i'll keep you warm. i'll let you wear each of my wishes on your fingers like rings, and i'll let you slip on all the ways i want you to touch me like dark gloves over cold hands.

vi. lie; love is an aching question desperate to be answered. it is the answer. it is a testament to the words i let you ink over my heart. it burns and flickers like nothing you've ever felt before, flames brushing the rims of my ribcage. all you ever were was the ember that sparked. look what you've done.

vii. truth; gazes can be read like books if you turn the pages gently. if you know which words to look for. i already know every facet of your eyes. the knowledge feels forbidden. holy.

viii. lie; my heart revolves around you. my heart turns only for itself. there is only night in this quick-beating planet; i've never liked mornings or sunlight. flowers bloom under the moon and my heart doesn't revolve around you, but my thoughts do. they tell me you're the kindest thing to ever happen to me.

ix. truth; i'm a sinner for pressing your broken heart over mine, for trying to fit the shards like they were puzzle pieces. your serrated edges would never line against mine. we can't be fixed once we've fallen, but we can breathe through the pain. i've heard that one day, it gets easier.

x. lie; if i touch you one more time, i'll break. but breaking is different from coming undone. breaking is different from coming apart. your fingertips lightly pressed against mine, i'm unravelling. i don't care what tapestry my heart used to make; it's spools of thread now. spools of soft violence. your palm presses against mine and i'm undone. undone. i don't want to be stitched back together. i only want you.

xi. truth; i am a pale pink, a pale blue when night comes to remind me of everything i left unsaid. the shades of my heart haunt me until i am alight with colour. maybe this is when i can finally see the second hue of heartbreak. maybe this is when i can forget you.

xii. lie; angels fall when they rebel against god. can they really fall, when all they do is reach for that last shred of mortality inside them, that last ember? when they turn it in their fingers, gazing at, examining, the human they could have been from every side? in the end, punishment comes for those who burn differently; for those who burn brighter.

xiii. truth; when you finally tell me the truth, the cool, precious truth, a link, warm and gold, connects our hearts. i have a piece of you now, a sliver of your heart. i think i will place it in the hollow vaults of my own. don't come looking for it, will you? i want to call your heart my own tonight. i want something to call my own.

3 notes · View notes

pandawritesmanythings · 4 years ago

Text

Loki x Reader (Medieval AU)

Chapter Summary: Your adventure continues! But is the future as clear as it seems?

Warnings: None, I think!

Word Count: 2,2k

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about not posting last week, I just needed to recharge and finish this chapter in a way that I was satisfied with. But I’m back. Don’t worry about it! Thanks for being patient!

Masterlist

"I do believe that I've never tried this type of food."

There was something that smelled awfully like fish but didn't look like it on a stick in your hand. It had been deep-fried, that was for sure.

"This is our typical street food, your majesty." Sigyn explained.

"Is it now?" You turned to Wanda who carried on her arms a basket of gifts for many of her friends, her boyfriend, and her brother. "Wanda, how much does it differ from the food of the streets of Europe?" You spoke referring to the territory that she was from.

"Well, our food is definitely more sophisticated. I would compare it more to the food of Southern America or Asia if I had to."

"You've traveled Midgard, m' lady?" Sigyn asked Wanda, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes, when I was younger we would get thrown around, me and my brother. Finally, we found a home in Northern America, where the capital is." She explained. "But I've seen most of our country!"

Sigyn was deeply invested. You could easily read it on her face. "Do you have a preference as to which place is better?"

Wanda seemed to think for a while... "Well, I am biased to say that the state of Europe is wonderful. After all, I spent most of my childhood in different provinces of the state, like Sokovia, Denmark, and Russia." She began, you rolled your eyes since you knew she was about to go off, "However, I must admit that the South is also quite lovely!"

"And what about the capital?" Sigyn asked, luckily, since it was sure that Wanda was about to go on about the South and they would be in town until sunset if that was the case.

She thought about it for a moment, hand on her chin thinking, wracking her brain for an answer.

"It is just a city. Nothing truly that magnificent."

Sigyn's eyes widened to a comical size, she then turned to look at you quickly, which made you burst into laughter.

"Do not worry my dear! Wanda has the tendency to speak her mind when she feels comfortable." You laughed, hand in your stomach because of Sigyn's bewildered expression.

"Oh.. Heh..." She chuckled and slowly relaxed. "Then, what do you think, your majesty? Do you agree?"

You let your laughter die down and answered with a teasing smile. "I do agree that compared to the luscious jungle of the south and the cold mountains of the north the capital is most underwhelming." You gently shoved Wanda's arm. "However, you sell us short Wanda! The capital is still a wonderful place! Especially during the season's festivals!"

You looked back down at your hand which held the snack you had bought for the afternoon and after taking a deep breath as you bit into it.

Yeah, definitely not ladylike.

However, the taste made up for your lack of manners. "This is fantastic! May I ask what this is?"

"Octopus your majesty."

"I've heard of it, but they only use it in some European provinces that are closer to Asgard." You spoke, the flavors of the meal still dancing in your tongue, making you take another undignified bite.

"Forgive me, I would have thought that you would have a large variety of supplies in the palace."

"Travel distances are too long. Uncooked food would spoil since we are in the center, we always encourage each state to instead give the food among the people. After all, as monarchs we are here to serve them, are we not?"

It was amazing to Sigyn how much you repeated that in the short time you had been together. Did you really believe that, or were you just trying to convince her? Corrupt monarchs were not something new for her. Could she believe the word of another one? Especially of the one who had been selected to separate her and her beloved?

"Princess, look!" Wand suddenly pointed towards a group of girls who were braiding ladies' hair with flowers in exchange for some coins.

"Ah! That looks lovely, shall we try?"

Sigyn looked unsure, but after pulling her along she had no other choice but to follow.

After a couple of minutes, her blonde hair had been braided with white and blue forget-me-not's. Wanda had a crown of Marigolds on top of her head. And the girls had made a crown of various flowers for you, including some very beautiful orchids. You completed your transaction and gave the girls a little extra, to which they squealed in joy and continued to call and attend customers.

The three of you continued your way downtown, the mood light from the darling experience. Your hearts felt light, and you spent the rest of the day running around and discovering the rest of the city.

"Oh my! I almost forgot something." Sigyn said while stopping in front of a small bakery. "Forgive me, your majesty, I must pick up an order here. Would you give me a minute?"

She knew that Kassian, the baker's son, would keep the bread for her family safe, but she really needed to take it back home. And for some reason, she felt like you wouldn't be rude about it.

"Of course! We'll wait out here!" You nodded with a bright smile while Sigyn rushed inside.

"She's very sweet," Wanda spoke as soon as Sigyn was out of earshot.

"Indeed. Quite the worker, and very attentive."

"Do you think it would be a good idea to bring her back to Midgard as part of the help?"

"As much as I'd like that, she must have family and friends here. I wouldn't want to impose anything on her, less on a warring country."

"Makes sense..."

"So, is Vision thinking about the next step?" You nudged her.

"Oh hush! We still haven't even told Pietro."

"I would have thought he knew!" You almost gasped, but it came out more like a laugh.

"Well, he doesn't. And until he does, I know Vis is too much of a gentleman to propose." She laughed, and in her eyes, you could see the wistfulness, the joy...

That feeling...

"Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Not at all..." She turned to pay full attention to you.

"How does it feel to be in love?"

Her smile dropped... She knew why you were asking. "Oh, my dear friend..." You felt her arms surround you in a hug. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine. I ask because I wish to at least imagine... Now I know that I'll never truly be in love, so might as well get a picture of it, right?" You shrugged, trying to shake off the sadness that was in your voice.

"I suppose..." She paused, hesitantly, clearly at a loss for words. "Do you know when during a summer night we used to go out and dance with our friends? How our dresses would twirl and it seemed like there was nothing else in the world but our little group?"

"I remember... It felt like a high, a bliss. The warmth of the summer nights helped that effect..."

"I would think that being in love is similar... It is two people who when they are together nothing else matters. Because you two are so comfortable, and trust each other so much, that it seems like the world has frozen around you..." Her mind seemed to turn back to those years, an unspoken yearning palpable. "At least that's how I can best describe it..."

"Thank you, Wanda... That's a beautiful sentiment..."

The door of the small bakery opened and Sigyn came out carrying a basket with some loaves of bread. "Thank you, Kassian!"

"Wait, Lady Sigyn!" A young man handed her something and the blonde placed it on her basket and walked towards you and Wanda.

"Is that the baker?" You asked with curiosity.

"That is the baker's son. Kassian is a fine gentleman." She answered with her passive expression back on.

"Oh, he's fine alright. If you don't mind, what did he give you?" Wanda asked, teasing her.

"I actually don't know," Sigyn answered fetching the container that he had handed to her. She opened it and found pantries inside. Pastries she knew that she would never be able to afford on a weekly, maybe not even monthly basis.

"Oh my! So sweet!" You smiled at the tiny, but delicious-looking gift.

"Looks like you have an admirer Sigyn!" Wanda squealed playfully.

"Oh no! I already have my heart promised to... Someone else..." She said, her tone slightly embarrassed and hesitant.

"Alright Wanda, leave her alone." You nudged Wanda with a smirk after sensing Sigyn's discomfort. It was obviously a sensitive topic, so you respected her boundaries.

The golden rays of the sun began to lower, bathing everything with an orange glow.

"We should go ladies. Everyone will worry otherwise."

"Agreed." You nodded. "Let's make haste."

The three of you dashed through the crowded pathways all the way into the castle, and like it were providence, you found no one obstructing your way.

When you approached the back door to the kitchens, Sigyn stopped you.

"Yes, what is it dear?"

Although the last bit of your conversation had been sensitive, the look on her face at the moment was different from this morning, way more relaxed, a lot more carefree. "I just wanted to say... I understand why you're here. And I'd be glad to help you..."

"Really?" You wanted her to accept, you just didn't know if she would. "Thank you, dear. Do you already know what you want in return?"

"Not yet." She bit her lip, Sigyn's mind was going a mile minute without your knowledge. If her plan was going to work, she needed to still seem aloof about it. "But as soon as I can I will let you know."

"Remember, anything you ask for I will find a way and help you."

"Thank you..." she said, taking your hands on hers. "I really appreciate it."

The three of you sneaked into the palace, all acting like children who had gotten away with something. Which to be honest, you had.

The palace halls were surprisingly empty, which made sneaking back towards your room that much easier.

On the way, you found Astrid, the palace baker, whose face was relieved as soon as she caught sight of the three of you.

"Your majesty! You're back! And safely, thank heavens!" She whispered excitedly.

"You kept your mouth shut, right Astrid?" Sigyn asked, with a teasing smile.

"Of course! Well..." She nervously responded.

"Well?" Suddenly a pit began forming on Sigyn's stomach.

"I was beginning to get worried when the sun got so low... I was going to tell prince Loki, but..."

You and Sigyn both perked up at the mention of the man's name. And most worryingly, at the uncertainty of her tone.

"What is it Astrid, dear?" You asked softly, urging her to speak.

She took in a deep breath. "The court has been called to session. Apparently, Jotuns have been sighted near the junction border between Midgard and Alfheim."

It felt like your whole body had been frozen. The Jotuns had managed to sneak unsuspecting through the many provinces and border security? They were genetically taller than all of you were. The tallest man of Midgard only reached their shoulders! How were they able to sneak past undetected?!

"Do you think they'll allow me to be there?" The cogs of your mind were turning. With your brother coming soon, you couldn't spare his security while traveling.

"No. They will consider this an in-land security issue. They won't let a foreigner inside, not even if she is to be the king's daughter-in-law..." Sigyn replied, hand on her chin. Thoughts also swirled on her head, what could she do?

"I need to know what happens at that meeting." You said.

"Well, you could ask Prince Loki..." Sigyn began, "But if you are still unsure about his words being true-"

"I will trust what he says."

"However, just as an extra precaution. I could sneak in with a pretext and hear as much information as I can. After all, these meetings don't stop just because the staff is shuffling around." Sigyn insisted, taking advantage of the deal...

You gave it a moment, thinking in your head about the best course of action. If you asked Loki maybe he would tell you about it. But what if...

"Alright, do what you must, but do not take any unnecessary risks. Understood?"

"Yes, your majesty." She bowed and quickly strutted away towards the court hall.

"Let us go to your room, princess," Wanda suggested, unclasping the hood and taking it from you.

"I must take my leave too, your majesty. Forgive me." Astrid added, and you nodded your approval as she bowed and shuffled away.

The rest of your walk to your room was filled with tense silence. Your brain was working, and Wanda knew better than to disturb you with reassurance.

Your life had never been easy, and you were aware of that. The roughness of your hands was proof enough.

"Wanda?" You called as she helped you get out of your dress.

"Yes?"

"Do you think I...?" You wanted the words to come out naturally, but they had become stuck to your throat. Your insecurities, your fears, your past... All of it was like boiling water in a teapot. Boiling, hot, bubbling, looking for a way out... But finding none.

You knew that if you let it out too fast it would explode. And even if you trusted Wanda, breaking down in front of her wasn't top of your priorities list.

"Nothing... Nevermind."

TAG LIST (OPEN):

@chxrryycola - @midnightmystic - @deathkat657 - @thatonefangirl111

#loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x sigyn #steve rogers x reader #medieval!au #medieval au

35 notes · View notes

seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 5 years ago

Text

An Ephemeral Eternity in Seven Parts - Steve Rogers x Reader

MASTERLIST Warnings: Gifs aren’t mine. My English. Also, last sentence - well, maybe it’s the start of something new. Word Count~ 7k. Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI PART VII

The melancholic notes of the guitar accompanied her soft and broken voice in a song that reminded very much of a lamentation of her past, her present and her future.

Everything she touched, begun to decay. Everyone she loved, had only ended up unloved, depressed, addicted or alone. It had made her wonder if she was the one; if she was the wolf dressed as the little red riding hood. What if everyone around her was simply a helpless sheep and to prowl for her next meal she clothed herself in love and kindness, only to poison those closest to her until they are damaged beyond repair. She could only ever ruin so many relationships before she understood that the devil lived inside of her making her a toxic landfill disguised in fake beautiful grass and flowers - she had never been afraid of the monster in her closet, she had always been terrified by the one she saw in the mirror. She didn't remember which night it was - the one she left, like a thief, not making a sound, knowing that he heard her. It made her decision easier when he didn't even try to stop her. It was selfish - he had been badly broken too. She felt the failure calling out her name - she couldn't make it better for him because she was a mess. She had lost herself and she wasn't sure she wasn't sure she wanted to be found. And so she left. She took a few clothes with her and left. She had no solid plan for her days ahead. She couldn't find a point to it. She had wandered aimlessly when she found herself in a small city that did not speak English. She had smiled painfully to herself. A stranger among strangers.

Not long after her decision to stay there for a while, she had to find a way to earn some money in order to get by. The kind old lady, who had helped her with almost everything, seeing in her face the granddaughter she had lost just mere weeks before she turned up in her door - since she was one of the very few people who spoke English - had offered her a job she thought it would suit her. There was a small place where those who stayed behind went to drink and listen to old and soft songs about loss, love and pain. They were missing a singer. She had thought why not. Isabella had been nothing but kind and sweet, just like a real grandmother - not that she had met one. "Grief is a deeply personal and solitary journey. No one can truly feel or understand your loss but you, even those who have experienced it themselves. But grief is also love, and for that reason it has a right to exist and be felt. It is the debt we owe our memories. It is the final way we love someone" she had soothed her after the first time she heard her sing. There was pain in her voice, even when she sung in Spanish. She had never believed it would cost her everything. Yet, it did.

Months flew by as she had fallen into a simple yet so human routine. Many handsome men had threw themselves to her but she had closed herself, letting no one in. She had lost people along the way. She had left others behind. She had cut them out of her life, sometimes uncertain if it was the right decision. Looking back, she had done things she might have regretted now. This quieter life she had now was closer to the one she had been dreaming the cold nights that she had been held by HYDRA or trained by Madam B. She couldn't sake the feeling that something was missing - she was different and she hadn't ever realized. The girl from her past wasn't the woman she had grown to be. "Hay un hombre guapo buscándote, cariño" Isabella suddenly told her, making her slightly jump from the couch she had been seated for at least two hours, starring at the wall. Seeing her lost eyes, Isabella sat down next to her and took her hands in hers. "Listen, cariño. Love transcends gender, age, political beliefs; it crosses borders. It’s literally the strongest motivator and force we have. It makes people do things they can’t explain. And it comes in all forms and it comes when you least expect it and it comes and it goes and it changes and people have spent years and wrote books and studied the stars trying to understand it. And sometimes it’s the boy you called over to get over, the boy you were crying about and sometimes it’s the girl you grew up next door to your whole life and sometimes it’s a friend who saved your soul or a baby you didn’t expect. But it��s all around us in forms yet to be manifested- letters yet to be written, hands yet to be held. And all goodness stems from it and it literally changes the world. So even though it sometimes causes us pain and it drags us into situations we didn’t ask for, we can never close ourselves off to it or give up on it. We have to keep loving because it’s the closest thing we have to magic and without it we’re just a conscious pile of bones and life means nothing. Ve hacia el" and just like that, from the mouth of someone who used to be a stranger, the entire meaning of life and love and pain was summed up into a minute of hope. Isabella had lost her son and her granddaughter, everyone she ever loved and yet, there she was telling her to embrace life with its bad and its good. Tears she had no idea when they escaped, were running down her face. "Mi bella Isabella, gracias por tu sabiduría. Gracias por tu amor. But if I go to him, I'll leave you and I can't do that to you" she told her truthfully. Isabella just shook her head and smiled. "I'll always be here. Go to him, cariño". She kissed her cheek and hugged her as tightly as she would love to be hugged. She had been everything she was missing.

As the song went on, her eyes fell on him - he had just entered the place. And every memory she kept tacked away, came back rushing through her veins. In her head, she could hear Isabella's words but her heart just didn't want to get hurt again. She knew the moment he talked to her, she would succumb her entire being to his hands.

War was the only dance he had ever known and she wished they could have had more time amid the chaos and fire and blood to show him that there could be another way. She fell in love with the way he saw the world, the way he saw her... She fell in the chasm of his soul and his light. She would gladly drown in the darker half of the sea to hold him in her arms for more than just that single night of peace. She had been aware that they had met and they had loved in a warzone and even though his kisses had melted away the gunfire, they still held echoes of the fire burning in him but she knew hers were the same. He had been worth the risk time and time again because with his hand burning into her skin, she had hope once more ... and the blood that had stained him couldn't take away his goodness and the stars that had betrayed him, didn't mean she forsaken her devotion. There had always been a rage built inside their souls, just like this love was worthy of burning empires down ... screams that follow them all the way home only to be quieted when she kissed the blood from his lips... and even when the universe will force them to part he will remain, echoing in her heart that only belonged to him. She knew that they were the ugly parts of the love story but she also knew they were the beautiful ones too. The song came to an end and she went to the table she held every night, the one far away from the lights and the people. Eyes never leaving his, she nodded for him to join her, as she poured herself a glass of red wine. He had never been so afraid of a moment and its impact. He had no idea what to say to her or how to be around her, when she poured and offered him another glass of wine. "I didn't know you could sing" he told her before he hid his face in his hands, only to resurface as red as a tomato. She tried to swallow her laughter but failed. "You're still not good with women, Steve" and just by saying his name, her heart places itself in his hands. He smiled brightly even though he had messed up his opening line, it had worked out. She was sipping her wine with a fondness he had never seen before. Maybe leaving was the best thing she had done - and he would be selfish to ask her back. Again. Not leaving her alone, to decide her own path. He needed her in a way he hadn't needed anyone since... "I will come back Steve. But I need you to promise me that we will search and search over and over again for a way to undo this -and if we don't find one it will be because there isn't, not because we overlooked it" she told him boldly with her eyes a soft lilac color, as she looked over her shoulder, signaling to someone to approach them He was taken aback. He believed that she wouldn't even want to talk about what had happened. He had seen the way Bucky had looked at her before he... and he had already suspected his feelings towards her. Steve knew it had a great impact on her - not that it had been the only reason for her breakdown. After realizing her new powers she had refused to use them because they were the reason half of the planet was dead. He looked at her with a new found admiration - she was the bigger person. "Of course. May I ask why?" he prepared himself to hear a reason he wouldn't like, instead, his heart broke a little bit more. She smiled and stood up to give her sit to an old woman he had never seen before. It was the first time Steve saw this side of her. "Isabella, este es Steve. Ese hombre guapo que me estaba buscando" she spoke in Spanish making him question if he knew her at all. Isabella took his hands into hers and looked at him just like his mother would have, which caused some tears to appear. They got to know each other and he realized that she had never felt the love of a family - and she craved it. When Isabella said her goodnight, having already invited him to spend the night in her house, she grew quiet. She knew he was waiting for an answer. "She is the reason why. She lost everything - her son, her granddaughter - and yet she hasn't lost hope. She told me to live life with everything that comes with it and embrace it because it's all we got. She is the reason I am talking to you. She told me 'go to him' because love is the closest thing we have to magic and I couldn't just tell her I have magic running through my veins but couldn't save her family" she said with fire in her words and determination pouring over her.

It felt wrong. Being back, felt wrong. She had followed him once again, but this time she hadn't found the people she had last time. She felt out of time – as if she didn’t belong. No one was waiting for her; Natasha was broken and Tony was nowhere near the place. Maybe she had been naïve for trusting him again; deep down she knew the only thing they had been left with was bitterness. She spent her days reading, training and trying out different things. Steve had an unhealthy need to fill Sam’s shoes as he had begun some group session. The irony was obvious to her; He was telling them, urging them to move on while he would never. She had seen as much in his eyes when they were talking about his past and the beginnings of his story – way before he became Captain America. There was one particular story he didn’t feel like sharing and she understood why – but also bothered her. She had kept her promise and had searched everything in order to find a way to undo this. She had spent days and nights looking for an answer. There had been times she felt so useless she wouldn’t get out of her room – nobody dared to disagree with her on those days. Slowly yet steadily, Steve and her grew distant and she felt as if they were miles apart even when they were sitting right next to each other. Being positive had never been one of her assets and that fake optimism Steve had, got on her nerves. Then again, maybe it was just his way of coping with the events. She had found herself longing to leave the base and go back to Isabella’s house more than enough times to realize that she never felt at home in the Avenger’s base. And the years flew by without even noticing it. The only thing new must had been the fact that she met Carol, a woman with many of her own powers and a life experience to match them. Other than that, Natasha had been obsessing over Clint – who had gone dark after his family disappearance. She could never say that all of those people had died – they had just dusted away. Which was the same and she had been fooling herself for a very long time. Steve had been the positive fucking little unicorn in front of others but he was so lost when they were alone. A raccoon was sending them emails with reports and Nebula wanted to get revenge a tad more than all of them combined. She knew things were bound to be different, but she couldn’t recognize anything anymore. She had been drifted away from those around her because she didn’t feel a connection to them anymore – the only thing they had in common was anger. She had just made a cup of coffee when Steve walked in, finding Natasha on the verge of crying as he went on about the bright side, but Nat wasn’t having it. She just plopped down next to Natasha, smiling towards Steve without even bothering to listen to their conversation but her eye caught something. Something unexpected. “Oh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport? In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't recognize me” Scott Lang was rumbling on at their front gate. Before she could register their reactions, she had buzzed him in and left the room running towards him. “Have you ever studied Quantum Physics?” Scott asked them a moment later. “Only to make conversation” came a sarcastic answer by Natasha, which didn’t bring him down. “Alright. So... five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she's my... She was my... She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there” he said while he was struggling not to tell the entire truth about their relationship. “I'm sorry. That must've been a very long five years” Natasha sincerely told him only to be shocked when he replied the most unbelievable thing. “Yeah, but that's just it. It wasn't. For me, it was five hours”. Steve and Nat shared a quick bewildered glance, while she had figured it out, because she had indeed studied Quantum Physics. “See, the rules of the Quantum Realm aren't like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable. Is that anybody's sandwich? I'm starving” Scott said as he strode over to pick up Nat's sandwich, and bit into it. “Scott, what are you talking about?” Steve asked him confused and puzzled. “What he is saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm” she chimed in, gaining a strange look from Steve and a very impressed one from Scott. “The only problem is right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if, we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like...” he went on. “Like before Thanos” she half-whispered. “Wait, are you two talking about a time machine?” Steve asked as he couldn’t believe his ears. “No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It's more like a... Yeah, a time machine. I know it's crazy. But I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some way... There's gotta be...some w... it's crazy” his craziness was making her head dizzy. She knew they would have to talk to her father, sooner or later. She hoped it would be later but that was not gonna the case. “Scott, I get e-mails from a raccoon, so nothing sounds crazy anymore” Nat reassured him. “So who do we talk to about this?” Scott cut to the chase and everyone looked at her.

They pulled over at his cabin and one by one got out of the car. Tony looked at them and she could tell that he was not looking forward to the discussion about to take place. He acknowledged her with a single hey, and so she decided to let them talk in peace while she was gazing at the lake from afar. "I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now we have a chance to bring her back. To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even... “ his voice got louder as he tried to sell his desperation to Tony. “That's right, Scott, I won't even. I got a kid” Tony simply told them, making her remark. “Yeah, now he’s got a kid” she retorted, making him realize what he had just said. As on cue, Morgan run to her dad, who picked her up. “Mommy told me to come and save you. And to tell to the pretty girl to stay a while” Morgan told him as she pointed at his other daughter. “Good job. I'm saved. I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six” he went on and informed them. “Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance” Steve tried to reason with him but she already knew he wasn’t gonna give up just yet. He had to solve it on his own. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch. And you should stay for a while” he concluded as he turned to face her. She smiled at him. She was going to stay a while and Steve saw it. It was hard to say goodbye but unfortunately it had become easier with the years. Steve, Nat and Scott were walking back to their car outside Tony's house as she was stepping inside, hugging Pepper. She could feel him slipping away from her life but she didn’t know how to keep him there – well, she didn’t even know if he wanted to be there anymore.

The day had been quiet, Pepper was an amazing mother and Tony was trying to be a great dad but he knew that he had failed once before, so he wasn’t hoping for much. They had lunch and she met Morgan a bit better. The kid was smart, but that didn’t come as a surprise, it was rather a given. “So how do you two know each other?” she asked suspiciously as she eyed her. Tony almost chocked but she kept her calm, as she was sipping a glass of wine. “We used to work together for a project, sweetie” she smoothly told her without raising any suspicion and even thought Tony felt relieved, Pepper shoot him an angry look, making him nod his head as if they made a promise. “You’re an Avenger!” Morgan exclaimed, excited with her new discovery. But before she could say a thing, Morgan begun asking questions – more questions than anyone before, leaving her stumped. “Honey, come on. Don’t bombard her with your questions. Wanna help me with dessert?” Pepper came to the rescue quickly and she couldn’t be more thankful. Silence fell and it was awkward because no one was going to break it first and Pepper knew as she said louldy "talk". Both of them rolled their eyes at that. "She is smart, that's from your side and she is beautiful - that's all Pepper" she commented shortly after. He almost laughed at her quick comeback. "How are you? How are things back?" he asked her sincerely, trying to make up for all the lost time. She shook her head, not wanting to lie. Something he understood very well. "Let me guess. You have been drifted away from people, especially Steve" he made a wild guess and he knew he was right. She stopped hiding her feelings. "Everything I thought I had is no longer. That's why I came here with them. They are asking you to be a hero and save the world. I just wanted to ask you a favor. A while back, I... I left and went -" "To a nice lady called Isabella, who lost her son and granddaughter" he finished her sentence for her, leaving her puzzled. "What? Did you really think I wasn't looking after you?" he asked her. "Well, you left to start a family and didn't even call, so... um. I should have" she concluded at last. He disagreed with her. She had stayed there, not to ask him to fight with them, but to help her find a way, because she knew that there was going to be o return for him and she wanted Morgan to have both of her parents and to feel loved. One of his daughters should.

She was just watching him work from the couch as she was drinking a hot cup of tea. “Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out. So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night” he gave orders to his computer. “Maybe in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, don’t you think?” she commented as she took a look to the holographic experiment. He agreed with an impressed look. “Do as the lady suggests” he informed Friday. “Processing... “ “Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second” he had just stepped away, towards the couch but it was not to be. “And don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda –“ “Model rendered” Friday announced sending waves of bewilderments down her spine. Tony in a complete shock of amazement as the render came back as 99.987% successful, fell back ecstatic by this discovery. “Shit!” they both exclaimed at the same time. “Shit” Morgan giggled as she repeated the word they had just uttered. Tony took on the father roll quicker than she had thought as he nodded to her to take care of everything that had just been projected while he took Morgan away. They had solved time travel. They had actually found out how to go back in time. Her mind was blown away just by looking at it. As she was walking around the holographic model, Pepper came down the stairs looking for her. “You should rest honey. It’s late” she told her like a mother would. She smiled at her and waited for Tony to get back. “Maybe it’s not” she told her, leaving her puzzled. They both sat on the couch, Pepper reading a book and she was just thinking of the endless possibilities. People less lucky than her would get to see the sun again. Isabella’s family. Spider-kid, Wanda, Strange, Bucky. Oh Gods, Bucky. She had tried to forget about him and how much it had affected her. It had been one of the few failures of her life. “Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000. You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range” Tony announced as he joined them and got Pepper to scoff. “What are you reading?” he asked absentmindedly as she noticed. “Oh, it's just a book on composting” Pepper told him, making her long for a simple life once more. “What's new with composting?” he asked again without really wanting an answer. Before she could, he cut her off. “We figured it out, by the way” he blurred out, pointing at his daughter proudly. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing –“ Pepper tried to catch up on their new discovery, very happy they were working together. “Time travel” he simply informed like it was nothing. “What? Wow... That's amazing, and... terrifying. Oh, that’s why you told me maybe it’s not late” she told him amazed as she turned to her still very much astonished. “We got really lucky” she commented and both of them agreed. “Yeah, I know” her father said a tad sad. “A lot of people didn't” Pepper softly nudged him. “No, I can't help everybody” he tried to be civilized and open for debate about it. “It sorta seems like you can. Both of you” his wife disagreed. “Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop” he insisted but they all new what was about to happen. “Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my life” Pepper echoed her thought from moments ago. Tony smiled proudly about that very fact. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed” he had almost given up on saying no. He wasn’t able to deny that she was right. “But would you be able to rest?” her soft voice pierced through his head. “And neither would you. I know that you left at some point because the memories were too much” she told her with honesty. She couldn’t believe how selfless Pepper was being about something so dangerous. “Come on, kiddo. It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow we are gonna go on a trip” Tony urged his daughter. She could get use to that. “Goodnight Pepper. Goodnight To-… dad” she finally told him, making him smile in pure happiness for the first time in a while.

The whole world was changing and she had been a part of that very fact. Every plan, every strategy and every theory had been mapped out but she knew that sometimes, even the cleverest of minds can miss a point – so small that no one could have seen. Wanda was trying destroy Thanos, having cost everything to her, Scott and Hope were trying to kick start the engine of the van and everyone was trying to get the gauntlet as far away as possible, without it being very easy of a task.

Pepper landed next to Okoye, followed by Mantis, Shuri, the Wasp, Gamora, Nebula and herself much to everyone else’s opinion – they all thought she was going to be right by Steve. Thanos' army charged while they helped Carol Danvers gey through the Outriders, Sakaarans and Chitauri. When Carol and she flew towards the van with the Gauntlet, Thanos, after being stopped by Pepper, Shuri and Hope, threw his double sword at the van, destroying it completely. He knocked Carol down and smacked Tony away as Thor arrived in an attempt to pin Thano’s arm down – Steve came rushing towards them, helping Thor but they were all overpowered. In a desperate attempt, when she saw Thanos picking up the gauntlet she punched him away. Thanos grabbed her by the arm and threw her away like she weighted nothing. Thanos put on the gauntlet, gamma radiation from the stones all over his body, as he tried to snap, but she arose again, and stopped his fingers from snapping, opening up his hand similar to what she had seen Steve doing in the other battle. She almost had him, forcing him onto his knees, as her powers were finally enough, she was ready to steal the stones herself. She knew she could take them on – she was part of them and they were part of her. But alas, he pulled the Power Stone out of the Gauntlet and used it in his free hand to hit her away, almost killing her in the prosses. Tony was looking at his daughter terrified and too scared to think of what might happen. He made one last attack on Thanos, having an entirely different plan on his mind. Thanos pushed him away, ending up right next to his older daughter. All it took was one look and she knew – before she could anything at all, everything was already over. “I am inevitable” Thanos snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He saw that the stones were missing. “NO!” she screamed but Tony simply smiled at her. s except a metallic "clink." He sees the Infinity Stones are missing.

“And I– am– Iron Man”.

The cruelest thing that someone had done to her was first claim to love her more than anything in the world. That he had never seen anything as exquisite as her. That she was every star in the night sky. That he would never leave her. And then one day, out of the blue he did. He lulled her into a false sense of security, convincing her that this, this is the forever love she have been looking for. This is the kind of love she needed all this time, the kind of love she had craved and let her get comfortable in it because it would last. And then, one day, he walked away. He made her believe that there would never be another. And then one day, he forgot her. He simply left without warning after promising her eternity. How ephemeral it turned out to be... It had been years since he came back. Not him - not her Steve. Peggy's Steve. She had refused to meet him - she had refused to even look at him, or be in the same building. She felt betrayed. She had lost Natasha as she had sacrificed herself to get the fucking Soul Stone. She had lost her father and that felt on her - she still felt responsible. And then Steve had decided to leave her all alone to fight her demons after constantly reassuring her he loved her. But he caught her by surprise, when he entered her office, as she was now in charge of everything her father once held - Morgan was too young and Pepper wanted some time off with her daughter. He knocked the door, waited for her to call him in and he entered. She had been facing the other way, on a phone call but the minute she turned and faced him, her phone fell on the floor and her heart skipped more beats than she could count. "Hello, Ms.. Stark. Do you have a minute for an old friend?" he was being polite as well as sarcastic but her mind had already imploded, so what the fuck? Gaining some of her confidence back, she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "We were never friends, Mr. Rogers" she fired coldly but he knew her better and she hated it. He looked at her and all it took was a moment. He too raised his eyebrow and walked towards her with absolutely no intention of leaving. Before she could register his acts, he had enveloped her in to his big hug and she felt so fucking angry - it still felt like home. Without even knowing it, she was crying with her head almost resting on his chest. "It’s weird. It’s weird how you have the same face but you’re a completely different person. It’s weird how I have so many amazing memories with you but they died off as you’re a completely different person. It’s weird that I’m mourning over someone that is still alive because you’re a completely different person. It’s weird, you’re a completely different person. And I hate you for leaving me, but I can never really hate you because I love you" she told him as he sat them down to her couch. She left his arms to look at him. She lowered her walls and finally opened up to him again. "If I could do it all again, I would stay up later. I would ask more questions, unashamed of how personal they were and not afraid that I wouldn’t like the answers. If I could start over with you, I wouldn’t doubt my instincts. I wouldn’t fear what people thought if I catered to your every whim and laughed at every stupid joke. If I could try again, I would embrace every moment of every fight and ask for everything I needed from you. I wouldn’t worry if I was too needy, too attached, too much of anything. I would be myself more. I would scream louder. I wouldn’t hesitated to tell you I love you, in every way, every day. If I could do it again, I would not love you in halting steps always looking for some sort of validation that I was stepping on solid ground. I would jump into you and if you didn’t catch me, then I would still be picking up the same broken pieces I am now" she sincerely told him. She had lost both her friend and her father, both of them in the name of salvation and then Steve choose to leave her and go back. She had refused to exist for a while because she couldn't function. As everything crumbled around her, she had looked for a something to hold on to, but those closest couldn’t hear her amidst their screaming matches. She looked for those who swore to be there during her weakest moment only to see the illusion fade away leaving only crossed fingers, emptiness, and disappointment. She was done searching for someone, when someone did appear. Without even thinking about it, he wiped a single tear that ran across her cheek. He wasn't her Steve, but those eyes... "I never believed that I would have felt the way you made me feel after all those years in the ice. I owe you everything. And repaying you in the way I did... I wouldn't have forgiven me if I were you. An apology won't help, I know. For what it’s worth, you will always hold a special place" he told her in tender way that reminded her of their story and more tears found their way out. And he wiped every single one of them. She could tell from the way he hugged her when he saw her. He had kept the silent promise he had made when she was too drunk to remember what she had asked of him. Years had passed since she allowed herself to see him again. After saying a polite hello, they hugged like friends did. But then he squeezed her a little tighter right before he let go. She had almost rested her head on his chest out of habit, because it suddenly felt just like old times. She had thought she'd never be in his embrace again but there they were. They both wanted to hold on tighter but they knew they were different now. But she could tell from the way he hugged her, from the way he held on just a little longer, that somewhere, deep down... "I missed you too" she smiled at him, a strange but very much wanted feeling of relief washing over her heart. They both knew, no one could stop loving. Once you have loved someone honestly, truly, you will never be able to un-love them. You can only find someone you will love more. At that time, your old love will not feel so strong, but it will always be in your heart, it will never let you forget something that at some point along the way made you happy. "You hold a special place in someone else's heart too, you know" he commented like a genie. Her eyebrow arched. "Stop playing matchmaker, you old wise owl" she mocked him. At least, she could start again. He still held her face in his hands, he still held a piece of her, he would always be her first love. The bigger the love, the harder the fall. They stayed like that until Bucky walked into her office, looking for her. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he saw Steve holding her but he reprimanded himself almost immediately. She saw the way Steve looked up at him and she knew he wanted some alone time him. Leaving his hands was harder than she thought, smiling at all times. "Don't be a stranger, Rogers" she bid him goodbye but his eyes told her this wasn't the last time they would see each other and she found solace. She passed Bucky in her way out, smiling brightly to him, making his eyes sparkle in hope. She had just left the room when she heard Steve being completely honest.

"She is different now. I was too much of a punk to see how beautiful she really was. Her heart was beautiful, she cared so much about me and I never understood why. I don't think I treated her the way she deserves to be treated - but you do. Don't look at me like that, Bucky. I am old, not blind. I can see the way you two look at each other. Back then, her love scared me, it was so intense. I almost forgot how enticing her smile was. She just wasted so many tears on someone like me and for that I will never forgive me" he told his friend but his mind was someplace else. She smiled to herself and finally left them alone. Whatever was to come, she would face it. Finding closure had never been about forgetting. It had never been about drowning out the voices of her past or about closing her heart to memories that used to make you happy. Finding closure meant accepting a situation for what it was and moving on. It was coming to terms with the way things were and knowing that she couldn't change what had happened, but could still find growth among the broken pieces.

_____

“I am so glad I got my heart broken. It led me to you”. ____

Taglist: @accio-rogers @coffee-with-orion @stydia-4-ever @smilexcaptainx @elliee1497

37 notes · View notes

paramounticebound · 4 years ago

Text

Send me a symbol for five times… || ♫ five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is. || @vuulpecula || not accepting.

i. It’s just dinner, he thinks, it’s just because they both need a break from finals and homework and the soul-eroding routine. It’s when he asks her with that ingrained stoicism if she’s hungry, because she’s always been just a little too thin, and surviving on vodka and sadness isn’t how either of them should operate.

“Not a date,” added too quickly, Khan looks away when he says it, looks back when he avers, “I won’t take no for an answer anyway.”

It’s just a drive, he knows, and he hadn’t thought so meticulously about the restaurant that the plans crashed and burned before he knows it. So it was too busy, and he didn’t want to wait, and it’s not a date when they get food from the deli on the corner instead.

it’s not a date when they find a quiet place in the park, when he reminds himself to stay vigilant, don’t get too close. And it’s not a date when the sun sets over their conversation, laughing voices like bells on the horizon.

---

ii. The Aztecs, if Khan recalls correctly, were enamored with sunflowers. The shape itself was a sacred symbol, with many memoirs of the age carved elaborately into stone and etched into scrolls. A brief and decidedly insignificant piece of information that arose in his thoughts as he wandered aimlessly through the market. Avoiding the public was typically preferred, if arrogance were not enough of a reason on its own, but even he needed open spaces from time to time. He still lingers before a particular stand, observing the display of various golds and yellows with a hard gaze. He’s full of contrasts.

It’s about half-past seven in the evening when he knocks on her door.

Khan isn’t one for words, and so before she can speak, he offers the flower (and how bizarre it is in his hand). It’s probably not the greatest specimen, but it’s glorious in the way that a farmer’s market flower can be– simple and without deceitful layers of luxury. This is the first time he’s looked at her in approximately three hours and twenty-one minutes, from when he’d drove her back from their-- whatever it was-- not-date.

“Thought of you,” is all he says-- it’s too late for anything else.

---

iii. The both of them are running on no more than six hours of sleep from more than a day ago. Khan sighs, rubbing his temples while Fox, who is at the opposite end of the room, is preoccupied. She glances up at the sound of her companion’s exhale. The only things to be heard previously were her own tinkering and the scratching of pen against paper; the two work in silence.

“Get your coat.” Fox pushes her chair back and gets to her feet. Her voice is firm and it’s impossible to mistake as a question or suggestion. “Come on.” She nods towards the door while Khan remains seated and staring up at her. A moment later he follows suit and questions where they’re going. “Lunch. We are both hungry, do not dispute this.”

He can’t. Just like he can’t dispute that he loves the certainty in her voice, her accent, her everything.

“It is not a date,” Khan says quietly, to remind himself, and he pretends to miss the falter in her step.

---

iv. It’s a quarter past five in the morning, and he’s itching. Falling into sleep like falling from a great height, and waking up long before his alarm, Khan is suffering. Something like bite makes inside of his head, because his ghosts do not sleep with him. He doesn’t expect an answer when his text is sent.

Coffee? I’m paying.

Khan know it isn’t a date even when she replies so quickly. Of course he’ll walk to her apartment first, of course he’s already on his way. It’s not a date when he ignores his reflection in the mirror, the unforgiving smile on his lips.

---

v. It’s late and neither know of any places off the top of their heads that might still be open. Fox insists they go to her place for dinner instead of wandering the city streets and spend half the night searching for a place they may not find at all-- which is how they have ended up on her couch sitting too closely together to be just friends-- he knows that’s all that they are.

Khan has never been the flirtatious type and harbors no intention of trying to start now. Expressing emotions behind glimpses, broken as shards of glass, it’s become more of a guessing game than any indication of his inner machinations. A game that Fox has become close to mastering-- and Khan, for every ounce of his deniability, assumes it’s only natural that she’s learned to read between the lines. Nothing more, possibly much less.

It might be the alcohol, the late hour, the exhaustion that is beginning to creep in-- Khan isn’t certain. He does know that being near her is like being stolen by the tide, enveloped in waves; drowning without pain. And-- not a date, he reminds himself, nothing more than the welcomed anchor of friendship, and if he wants to kiss her every time she smiles, it must remain buried.

One wrong move could shatter everything. This balance is fragile.

Nerves in his skin alight when his hand brushes against hers, unintentional-- yet neither of them move apart. Something hovers on his tongue, too dangerous to offer to the light: and so Khan asks about some trivial detail concerning her day. It’s safer this way. It’s better to quell his thrumming heart.

---

vi. It’s half-past eight in the evening and Khan’s been pacing enough to burn a hole through his apartment, no intention of getting that security deposit back any time this century. Darkness of the creeping twilight already blankets everything, short days in crisp falls to beget harsh winters; but the night is clear. That’s the point, why he’s been poring over his own thoughts for hours, old star atlases that are too clean to have been collecting dust on crowded shelves sprawled across the table in his living room. Khan didn’t need them, he hadn’t in a long time; they acted only as a conductor for his-- inspiration? Not entirely.

-- Right. He’s in love, painfully and nauseatingly so.

Lungs swell with oxygen that never seems to saturate; he dials her number before he can talk himself out of it. Pacing in circles is exchanged for his form slouched on the couch, hunching over the maps, idly drawing digits over constellations. When the call goes to voicemail, his heart only drops a meter-- not entirely into the floor. Words are a cascade, pouring from his mouth in rivers rather than drops.

“I don’t know if you’re busy but you must be since you’re not answering, but-- it is clear tonight, the best time to see Vulpecula et Anser-- er, the little fox eating the goose, I mean the constellation. The fox is-- ah, was-- carrying the goose to Cerberus at the gate of the Underworld, at least that is what Hevelius said. The astronomer that named it, he--” exhales, wonders if he could delete his entire existence along with this message, “Fox, I wondered if you wanted to go with me tonight to see it. I know a place far away from the city lights. I will buy you dinner and drinks, anything that a proper date would require, if you’d be so kind to join me tonight.”

Date. That was-- correct, entirely. He wonders why any other time, with any other woman, this had been so much easier.

“-- Call me back. Please.” The following beep, signifying his call had ended and (hopefully) retained the entirety of his rambling, seemed to resonate in an otherwise silent room. Khan opens his game of sudoku and focuses on anything aside from the strain of patience.

#vuulpecula #this is gross i'm sorry #ew feelings #verse: I feel so alone on Friday nights (college.)#x: YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME SLEEP (queue.)

2 notes · View notes

secretagentspydetectiveninja · 5 years ago

Text

The 25,913 Times Aspik Couldn’t Save Ladybug - chapter two

Time loops 4-9, read it on AO3!

I did the maths and if I want to finish writing this fic in under 5 years, I’ll have to average writing at least 15 loops per day. Yeah, that’s not happening. So I guess this fic is gonna take me like 50 years to write, and to be honest, I’m fine with that.

iv.

This time, Adrien was more cautious. He couldn’t let himself become distracted and forget to protect Ladybug. They were a team, after all! They had to look out for each other. If he was too busy cuddling up with her to defend against Desperada, well, that was his fault then. He was determined not to let it happen again.

Ladybug was speaking to him, but he barely listened. He’d heard it all before already. Not even waiting for her to finish, he took her hand and began walking down the tunnel, turning a different way at the end to what they had done last time. A new path was their best bet at staying safe.

“Adrien?” Ladybug was saying, surprised. “What happened? Shouldn’t we wait for Chat Noir?”

Aw, she still wanted him to be with them. Well, other him. But he shook his head. “This is the fourth time, Ladybug. He didn’t show up the other times so there’s no point waiting.”

“You mean you already went back in time four times?”

“Three, technically...”

“What happened?”

He could barely turn his head back to look her in the eye, guilt creeping up his insides. “I couldn’t protect you. You got hit by Desperada.”

Her eyes widened.

“But I won’t let it happen this time,” he said quickly. “I won’t be so careless. We’ll defeat her this time, you’ll see.”

She smiled. “You’re right Adrien...”

“Call me Aspik.”

“Oh! Aspik – that’s a nice superhero name!”

He willed himself not to blush, and looked forward again to look for any sign of exit. Surely they must be far enough away from Desperada now.

There! Another ladder to an exit. A much safer route, hopefully.

Out on the surface again, Adrien kept a close eye out for Desperada. Ladybug seemed to sense it, and she too behaved a little more cautiously – keeping low to the ground, eyes darting from side to side, light tread.

It was all for nothing.

As they passed under an archway, Desperada was waiting for them on the other side and shot Ladybug.

Oh for goodness’ sake!

Adrien hid back behind the arch as quick as he could. “Not again!!”

How had that even happened? They were being careful that time! And yet somehow Desperada had managed to catch them unawares!

No, that time had been bad luck. It was neither of their faults. There had been no silly flirting, no getting distracted, no flowers, no hugs. Just the two of them carefully creeping around, the way Adrien often did with her as Chat Noir.

So how unlucky could they have been for this to happen?

It was just so fast. It had happened before he could even react. Not even time to blink.

This whole thing, really, so fast paced – why couldn’t the bracelet have a 10 minute limit, instead of 5? That would make things a lot easier, or at least give him a moment to rest.

But as it was, he had no time to rest at all. Desperada was right round the corner from him, and he was probably next up on her hit list. He couldn’t stay here.

Flicking the bracelet, he went back in time.

Back to the beginning once more.

“We now have five minutes–”

“I know, and this is the fifth time,” he said.

“What?”

“This is the fifth time I'm trying this. We already failed the last four times.”

Ladybug covered her mouth in surprise. “We failed? What happened?”

“You... you kept getting hit by Desperada,” Adrien admitted, as painful as it was to say. “I couldn't prevent it.”

“So you must have been fighting non-stop for almost 15 minutes now...” She smiled and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry though. Every time you reset, so do your energy levels. From what I know about it, you could keep resetting for days and not even need to eat or sleep!”

Adrien involuntarily recoiled in shock. Ladybug quickly backtracked and laughed it off.

“Not that you'll be stuck resetting for days, of course! Haha, no way... We'll do it this time. You must have learnt from what we did last time that failed, right? Now we can do it properly. Just lead the way!”

Adrien glanced down at the bracelet. The two of them had already been talking for a fair amount of time, standing here for longer than they had done in the other loops. There wasn't all that much time left. But then again, rushing into things wasn't the best course of action – and they couldn't rely on blind luck either, or Desperada would get them every time.

“Maybe it's better to think things through and form a plan,” he suggested. “Like you always do.”

She beamed at him. “Are you a fan of me?”

“Of course I am! Who isn't?”

“Aw Adrien, that's so sweet...”

“Call me Aspik.”

He had said it a few times already by now, and he hadn't yet tired of seeing the look of delight on her face. No matter how many times he had to reset, he was pretty sure he would be sticking with this name.

There were footsteps from behind them. Adrien tensed up, wondering how Desperada could possibly have got down here so quick – until he heard a familiar voice, and one that definitely wasn't Desperada.

“Ladybug?”

They both turned to see that it was none other than Luka Couffaine, who Adrien had put safely inside a locker ages ago.

Well no, not ages ago – barely five minutes ago. But having gone through four resets already, it had certainly felt like ages. Anyway, what was this boy doing wandering around during an akuma attack?!

“It's dangerous to be here, you should go hide somewhere!” Adrien said.

“I came out to look for Adrien,” Luka said, walking up to him and Ladybug. “I thought he was hiding with me but I don't know where he went... Did you find him, Ladybug?”

Adrien already knew what it felt like to be standing right in front of someone who didn't recognize him – it happened all the time with Chat Noir. But it was surreal to experience it as Aspik too.

“Don't worry about that,” Ladybug said quickly. “Aspik is right – you should hide. It may not be safe here.”

For a few seconds Luka just stared at Adrien – well, “Aspik" – almost frowning slightly. Then his mouth dropped open. “Adrien? Is that you?”

Wait, what?!

“Of course not!” he gabbled. “I’m Aspik, and I - I've never heard of Adrien Agreste in my life–”

Luka was not looking even remotely convinced. But come on! It was so easy to hide his identity as Chat Noir! Why was he so bad at doing it as Aspik?

And how the hell had Luka worked it out?!

“I won't tell anyone,” Luka promised. “It's just that Ladybug was looking for Adrien, and now you're here, and you sound kind of like him, and... I'll keep it a secret, I won't tell...”

“Oh, you won't get a chance to tell,” Ladybug said, hands on her hips inannoyance. “Aspik, reset the loop.”

Adrien looked at her. “What, now? We haven't tried to defeat Desperada yet!”

“There's no point. Your identity has to stay a secret. Reset the loop, and next time don't talk to Luka!”

Right, right, made sense...

“What time loop?” Luka asked.

Hey, he was going to forget it in a few seconds, no point keeping it from him. “I can reset back to the time I first activated my power,” Adrien explained, holding up his wrist to show Luka the bracelet. “You won't remember any of it. And neither will Ladybug.”

Ladybug nodded. “That's right. Next time, perhaps we should leave this tunnel sooner so that we don't bump into Luka. How about that way?” She pointed up at the ladder beside her, but Adrien shook his head.

“Desperada's waiting up there with a sniper weapon. She'll spot us, and you'll get hit again. We've already tried some of the other tunnel exits too. I guess we'll have to just keep looking for new exits and hoping that one's our lucky break...”

“Well you have a better idea than me, so use it to your advantage. Next time we'll do it right!”

Luka looked as if he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut as he often did. That guy always seemed to know when was the right time to speak up and when to be quiet. Right now, with not much time left on the bracelet, talking much more wasn't going to accomplish anything.

Adrien gave the two of then a quick nod, then flicked the bracelet.

vi.

Materializing in front of Ladybug again, Adrien didn't waste any time. He took her arm and began running down the tunnel. “We have to get away from here before Luka shows up, or he'll figure out my identity!”

Ladybug immediately worked out what was going on. “Is that what happened last time?”

“Yep. And we need to find an exit we haven't used before. Desperada has a scope on her weapon and can see a huge distance away, plus she's up on the Eiffel Tower. We have to find somewhere she won't see us. Just follow me.”

“Of course, Adrien...”

“And call me Aspik!”

He couldn't help grinning. How many times by now had he told her to call him Aspik? Hopefully he'd never tire of it.

But even as he turned his attention back to the matter at hand, his mind began to wander. After all, it had been 20 minutes or so, and staying focused for so long was starting to take a toll on his brain, even if his “energy levels" did reset along with the timeline.

How did Ladybug know all of that about the snake, anyway? The Guardian had probably told her. He seemed to tell her a lot of things. But then again, how would anyone know about the energy levels resetting, unless... unless someone had physically experienced it before?

Adrien shuddered. To think that someone, at some point in history, had used these powers and failed over and over, so many times that it lasted longer than an entire day for them, and they didn't even need to eat or sleep, they just had to keep endlessly trying until they succeeded in their task...

That sounded like the worst kind of torture.

Heck, even five resets was getting tedious enough. Adrien very much hoped that this would be over soon. He did not want to have to go through an entire day of this. He already knew how to be a superhero so surely there was no way it could take anywhere near that long.

Right?

They clambered out of a new exit this time, Adrien making sure that they were out of sight of the Eiffel Tower first. It seemed to be deserted for now – good.

As they hid behind a car, Ladybug seemed to be moving in to lean against him again, like she had done a few loops ago behind the bus. Reluctantly, Adrien moved away. As much as he would just love to hold her that close again, he couldn't let himself be distracted. And he couldn't let Ladybug be distracted either!

“Did Desperada always attack from the Eiffel Tower?” Ladybug whispered.

“No, sometimes she's been down here on the street.”

“So... she could be anywhere?”

Adrien nodded. Ladybug stepped forward and stood in front of him, yoyo spinning round in preparation.

“I'll protect you, don't worry,” she said, her voice filled with determination.

“But it's supposed to be me protecting you! You're the one who's been hit every time...”

“That's a good thing! If I get hit, you can always reset everything and try again. But what would I do if you got hit? That would be the end of things! It's good that she keeps going for me first. It always gives you a chance to escape.”

Huh... she was right. And that intense look she was giving him, it was enough to melt him on the spot...

“Don't worry about a thing, Aspik. I will always protec–”

She didn't get to finish. From up on the roof of the building, Desperada shot her.

Adrien leapt right back down the hole into the sewer tunnel, barely stopping to think.

Come on... again??? This was ridiculous!

“Having fun there?”

Oh, and Plagg was here too, watching all that. Adrien had almost forgotten about him, having not seen him for a few loops in a row now.

“I got unlucky, I just need more time,” he replied.

“How many times will you get unlucky?”

“None. I'll do it next time.”

Plagg yawned. “If you say so...”

Conscious that Desperada might follow him down here at any moment, Adrien flicked the bracelet.

vii.

“We now have five minutes–”

Adrien ignored her and pulled her down the tunnels again, trying to remember which direction he had gone in last time so that he could try somewhere else now. If only he had done this consistently from the start! Had he gone left here, or right? It was starting to blur together a bit in his memory.

As they ran, he decided it might be worth explaining a few things. “Ladybug, Desperada is excellent at tracking us down and keeps hitting you before I can do anything about it. Chat Noir never shows up. If Luka sees me, he'll recognize me as Adrien. But you can call me Aspik.”

“Aspik... that's a lovely name!”

The blood rushed up to his cheeks before he could stop it, and he almost didn't care. The most important thing for now was finding a way to defeat Desperada, not hiding his huge crush on Ladybug!

“Desperada aims for you, not me,” he continued. “That's why I keep surviving.”

“Well that's a good thing! And it's because she needs my earrings, to give them to Hawk Moth, whereas she doesn't know who you are...”

That much was true. No matter what else happened, Adrien could count on the fact that Desperada would always attack Ladybug first. After all, she had no idea that Adrien could reset it whenever he wanted. So she would leave him alone and go for Ladybug, meaning he would always be able to escape...

It was honestly so weird being the survivor for once. He couldn't even count how many times he had sacrificed himself for Ladybug back as Chat Noir – those times, it was Ladybug who needed to stay in action at all costs. He was usually the “expendable" one. Having it be the other way round now, well... it didn't feel good.

And watching Ladybug being hit over and over didn't feel good either...

He had made his promise, though, his promise to keep trying until he could get it right. No matter what it took. He had vowed to protect Ladybug, and he wouldn't break that vow for anything.

Up on the surface, they were in a much smaller alleyway to the side of the main road now. Thank goodness. There was way more cover here, they were far less likely to be ambushed.

“Now what?” Ladybug asked. “Any plans on how to defeat Desperada?”

Adrien held up his weapon. “Well I have this lyre thing, I could throw it like a boomerang at her...”

Ladybug chuckled. “Good idea! Have you tried it yet?”

“No, I haven't had a chance, since Desperada keeps finding us before we can find her...”

“Hmm. We need to think of a way to track her down. That way it's us who’ll have the element of surprise!”

“Yeah!”

He suddenly noticed with alarm that their voices had been creeping up in volume, emboldened by their hiding spot undercover. It was only the fact that his words were echoing around between the walls that warned him how loud they were being – and once again, it was too late.

As soon as Adrien spotted Desperada at the end of the alleyway, he didn't even watch as Ladybug was vaporized. He simply rolled his eyes and flicked the bracelet.

viii.

No paying attention, as usual he grabbed Ladybug's arm and ran. There was no time for anything else.

Which way was it again? This way? That way? He had been here just a few minutes ago, but all these tunnels looked the same!

“Eighth time,” he muttered to Ladybug.

“You've reset eight times already?!”

“Seven times, technically.”

For several seconds she was stunned into silence, before finally thinking of something to say. “Well, uh, eight's a lucky number, right?”

“So is seven and we still failed that one...”

She didn't ask him any further questions, opting to just quietly follow him. Did he sound frustrated? Yeah, he probably did. He was frustrated! But he hoped that she realized that he wasn't frustrated at her, no, far from it. If anything, it was himself he was mad at. For failing so much. He was mad at Desperada too, for winning every time so far.

And most of all, he was mad at Hawk Moth for putting them into this stupid situation in the first place!

Up on the surface, instead of staying in one place and hiding, they ran down the street as fast as they could. At least this way they wouldn't be sitting ducks.

“So what happened the first seven times?” Ladybug asked him as they ran, seeming genuinely curious.

Where to even begin? “Desperada killed you a bunch, Luka found out my identity, the–”

“Wait wait wait – I DIED?!”

“Well no, she didn't actually kill you! She hit you and you got trapped in her – her – her thing that she's trapping everyone in...”

What was the word? His brain... oh god, his brain was getting sluggish, he had been on-edge for far too long. He tried to do the mental calculation in his head to figure out how long it had been. Come on, 7 × 5, it wasn't that hard...

“35!” he said in triumph.

“Uh... what?”

“35 minutes so far I've spent in the loops. Assuming about 5 minutes per loop, that is. Though some of them maybe took less time than that.”

“Um... right.”

Ladybug was still frowning at him as if he was slightly crazy, and to be honest, yelling out random numbers in the middle of the street probably did give off that effect. But hey, his head was starting to buzz from being stuck in this stressful situation for over half an hour now. Some maths was just what he needed to keep his wits sharp.

And clearly his wits were currently very blunt, because he didn't even notice Desperada aiming a shot at Ladybug until it was too late.

No! Not again!

He darted behind a nearby car, temper rising. He really thought they'd get away this time, or at least have some time to actually think and make a plan together! But no...

Ugh. Desperada was going to haunt his dreams tonight, he was sure of it.

Before Plagg could pop up and start making snide comments again, Adrien flicked the bracelet.

ix.

“I know, I know, we now have five minutes,” Adrien huffed. Ladybug clapped her hands with glee.

“You can read my mind!”

“No, it's just that this is the ninth time I'm hearing you say it.”

Her face fell. “So we've already failed several times?”

“Yep.”

Her eyes were downcast. “Was it... was it my fault?”

“What? No! No way, of course not!” He tried to smile at her, as much of a bad mood as he was in. “Sorry if I sound annoyed, I'm just... I'm not mad at you, I promise.”

“Just frustrated at failing a lot?”

“Heh, seems like you're the one who can read my mind.”

She returned his smile. “Well we'll try to do better this time, Adrien.”

“Call me Aspik.”

“Aspik? Oh, that's a wonderful name for a superhero!”

He grinned for real this time. Then he looked down at the bracelet ticking away on his wrist – Luka would probably show up shortly, and he couldn't have that! He grabbed Ladybug's arm and ran with her through the tunnels.

Along the way, he tried to do some mental maths to keep himself occupied, since these drab sewer walls weren’t doing anything to keep him entertained. How many resets in an hour? A day? A week? A month?

They were out on the surface again before he triumphantly yelled out the answers.

“12! 288! About 2,000! About 9,000!”

“Shhh!” Ladybug pulled him behind a nearby van. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m bored,” he admitted. “I worked out that 12 resets takes me about an hour, 288 resets takes me a day–”

“Shhh,” she said again, though more gently this time, putting a finger to his lips. “It won’t take us that long. Okay?”

As much as his brain hadn’t been fully functioning before, it certainly wasn’t fully functioning right now, when she was doing that to him... Did she know what an effect it had?

Reluctantly, he pushed her hand away. This was no time for distractions. “Ladybug, if I keep this up I think I might go nuts...”

“You won’t need to! We’ll defeat Desperada this time!”

There was a maniacal cackle from somewhere behind them. “OH WILL YOU?”

Adrien turned just in time to see Ladybug shot right through the heart yet again.

Desperada’s laughter was ringing in his ears. He didn’t even move, he simply flicked the bracelet once more, cursing her under his breath.

Well, if this was going to keep happening, he was going to get extremely bored extremely fast. If he wanted to actually defeat Desperada then he needed new ideas.

He needed to get creative.

Closing his eyes as time rewound around him, he allowed himself a little smile.

From here on, anything went. No need to be sensible or professional about it. After all, if they failed then no one would remember it, right? And if they didn’t fail then, well, Ladybug would be proud of him for coming up with something crazy that actually worked.

Yeah. Now things were gonna get interesting.

#miraculous ladybug #ladrien #adrien agreste #random stuff #aish writes #25913

37 notes · View notes

florcarrow · 6 years ago

Text

tag drop !!

❛ i . | this is a torch song . hear me and you will burn ; threads . ❛ ii . | the perversions of quiet girls ; musings . ❛ iii . | now you look at me like i am a crime scene ; mirror . ❛ iv . | i will choose her happiness over mine every time ; the carrows . ❛ v . | i said i wanted to be a poet ; headcanons . ❛ vi . | can we speak in flowers ? it would be easier for me to understand . ; ask memes . ❛ vii . | a character study ; tasks .

#❛ i . | this is a torch song . hear me and you will burn ; threads .#❛ ii . | the perversions of quiet girls ; musings .#❛ iii . | now you look at me like i am a crime scene ; mirror .#❛ iv . | i will choose her happiness over mine every time ; the carrows .#❛ v . | i said i wanted to be a poet ; headcanons .#❛ vi . | can we speak in flowers ? it would be easier for me to understand . ; ask memes .#❛ vii . | a character study ; tasks .

1 note · View note

migleefulmoments · 5 years ago

Text

Awww the tinhatters are still upset about the CrissmyGlitz guest list.

xyzpap

ajw720

Sham neither could make it to the other’s wedding................................ (But shouldn’t the fact that neither made it to the other’s wedding tell you what they mean to one another? You can be great friends with someone and not attend their wedding. Especially since they live a continent apart.)

notes-from-nowhere

If you look closer, you can see they hate each other.(more that “Always’ “Never” nonsense. If they aren’t BFFs then they must hate one another)

flowersintheattic254

D especially especially hates it when El/vis forces him to go to his apartment and eat pasta. Fucking hates it. (awwwwww Flower’s remembers one personal story they shared and she’s going to obsess about it as PROOF of whatever she want it to me)

ajw720

@flowersintheattic254 and when they get drunk together and go to musicals, complete torture. I guess ED calling him his flesh light didn’t go over so well. (awwww not to be outdone, Abby comes in with another personal-time story. Whew- that was close. Also it’s a “fleshlight”).

More acting:

flowersintheattic254

Neither did Elvis calling him a ‘nice guy, but kind of a whore’.

And of course mentioning Ch/ris. (Ummm...soooo now we are trying to out-do one another with raunchy comments uttered by Elvis as proof they are actually friends? Cuz that’s messed up.)

notes-from-nowhere

He sure does 🤣

leka-1998

Mentioning his mortal enemy is an absolute no-go. What did you think was going to happen? (So wait...mentioning Chris to Darren is what got him dis-invited to Darren’s wedding? Huh? You do remember the point her, right? You're trying to argue that Elvis IS Darren’s BFF -why would he mention Chris to ccDarren in public? That would be really awkward for Darren since he was engaged to Mia and all.)

ajw720

Oh Storyland, funny how d could not remember the name of the series written by NY Times Best Selling Author C/hris C/olfer (a fact D reminds us of constantly), but he knew the name of the place C went to as a child that inspired it all. (OMG...first of all being a NYT best selling author is great but it isn’t up there with Knighthood or aNobel Prize. Second, Darren doesn’t remind us all the time that Chris is a NYT author- you just keep reblogging the same gifs from 5 years ago so it simply seems like groundhog’s day. Third, Darren didn’t know that Storyland was the name of the place Chris went as a child. “Storyland” is the most obvious mistaken name for “The Land of Stories”. He just didn’t know the name of the book. It’s hilarious to me that it’s easier for you to believe that Chris and Darren are in love than it is to believe he is married to MIa. Chris and Darren have never -EVER in 10 years- been spotted together outside of work-as in they have only ever been seen together when they are actually filming something for pay or inside an industry party and that ended 4 years ago when Glee ended. It’s hilarious that you just laid out your astonishment that Elvis wasn't at Darren’s wedding because they are so close, but you also believe that Elvis would be so careless with Darren’s emotions and his secrets that he would throw a “Chris’ question to Darren during an interview)

xyzpap (I will preface this entire thread with the factoid that Alan was in a play -aka onstage- on the night of February 16, 2019-it makes this entire temper trantrum that much more ridiculous)

ajw720

Another one absent from the big day…………………………….

notes-from-nowhere

Another one of D’s feral enemies. The hatred between them is overwhelming. (Again the NEVER/ALWAYS. Not attending someone’s wedding because you are working or not inviting someone you like does not make you enemies).

ajw720

@notes-from-nowhere The hatred is OVERWHELMING, especially in this photo

notes-from-nowhere

@ajw720 Precisely. AC can’t wait to leave. In the picture he’s wondering why he’s even there.

ajw720

@notes-from-nowhere remember that time D was the guest performer at AC’s show and D kissed him? That was acting I am sure.

youtube

flowersintheattic254

I’m convinced that Alan didn’t mean it when he said this about D at Carnegie and was in fact just being an absolute asshole and was quite rightly banned from their fake wedding!!!

“ he’s the loveliest, cleverest and most importantly kindest man” (You can publicly call someone “the loveliest, clever and most importantly kindest man” and not be on the wedding guest list. If Darren invited everyone who ever called him “Nice” it would have been a guest list of 8000 but also -he was working)

leka-1998

All the awards for that acting! But there was no place for fakeness at the mockery. (HUH?)

ajw720

And let’s not forget about the time AC got d to absolutely blush like a schoolboy when speaking about his former co-star, yet another person D hates, and that was not present at the sham mockery, I mean wedding. So much hatred, so much hatred. (this is the dirty video you wanke off to at night, isn’ it?)

youtube

xyzpap (I love this one- they found one cute photo of both of them smiling at Elsie two years ago and POOF, “why wasn't she invited- they are best friends” I think you need at least a few photos of them NOT at work in order to prove wedding-worthiness.)

ajw720

Guess she was too busy…………………………………. (Maybe?)

xyzpap

ajw720

Also missing……………………

So, let’s analyze the photos for signs of PR because we ARE paying close attention to the details and we ARE seeing what other don’t see. Can we see anything that looks like PR? Get closer...do you see anything? Well for one they are all photos and videos which tell us nothing except Darren and his “BFF” are smiling. There are no stories or quotes that indicate long-term friendships like he have with Ricky (he’s one of my best friends) and Ben (my musical idol became one of my best friends) or Ashley (we are family). All we have are photo and videos so let’s look at them.:

Darren and Elvis on Elsie Fest red carpet 2017

Iheartradio red carpet 2018

Darren promoting something on The Elvis Duran show

Darren and Alan at Elsie Fest Aftershow Club Cumming 2017

Darren and Alan Elsie Fest 2017

youtube

Darren performing with Alan Cummings during his Carnegie Hall show 2016

Same show 2016

youtube

On Alan’s show Remember That Time 2015.

Elsie Fest 2017

Elsie Fest 2015

So...Protip: if you want to show that someone is sooo close to Darren that they should have been invited to his wedding, you should prove they are more then coworkers. Friends actually see one anther for more than work. In fact. what you have documented here is nothing but PR. Does Darren enjoy these people? Sure he does but they aren’t his best friends. He doesn’t spend time with them outside of big projects, they don't come to his house, he doesn’t call them his best friends. The people he does call his best friends were at his wedding. Instead of trying to put your own storyline onto his life (ramming that square peg into a round hole), trying learning FROM Darren. Watch who is actually in life and listen to what he says about those people. It doesn’t matter if YOU like them or not, what matter sis whether Darren considered them his best friends. Then you can stop falling for PR nonsense and start putting square pegs into square holes. The photos you provided here are all photos of Darren and said person acting like they are best buddies because that is what you do on the red carpet or during a performance. The fact is- my dear ccers-you fell for PR 101.

This little temper tantrum orchestrated by @xyzpap, @ajw720, @leka-1998, @flowersintheattic254, @notes-from-nowhere

#cc #ccer #cc fandom #darren criss #crisscolfer #debunking CC lies #cc nonsense #Darren's wedding guests #falling for PR lies

13 notes · View notes

youcantkillamutant · 6 years ago

Text

A Map Made in Heaven (Chapter 6)

Prologue…Chapter 1…Chapter 2…Chapter 3…Chapter 4...Chapter 5

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: Marvel (Black Panther)

Pairing: Erik Stevens/Killmonger x Black!OC

Summary: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens is the biggest bootlegger in South Carolina, but he wants to be more than the middle man. After he receives a letter from an ‘old friend’ of his father, he embarks on a quest to find his homeland. Enter Audrey Cade, the finest mapmaker in the County.

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, death, and a lil angst

Words: 7K+

A/N: Back with that 1920’s AU! This is the final chapter before the epilogue y’all. I literally wrote this all today I don’t even know who I aim anymore I can’t even believe I wrote all this???? Thank you to everyone for reading liking and reblogging and recommending (!?!??!) this story. I love that y’all read and review. That stuff always makes my day! 😘😘😘

I only own my original characters of course. As usual Marvel don’t sue me I’m broke.

Listening to: Falling for Me by Johnnyswim, WATER (IF ONLY THEY KNEW) by Kojey Radical ft. Mahalia, XXX by Kendrick Lamar and City Burns by Andra Day

If ever there was a chapter to listen to the suggested songs, it’s this one!

CHAPTER VI

June 28, 1920: Wakanda

“What exactly are we looking at here?” Erik didn’t mean to sound rude, only annoyed. W’Kabi had interrupted his night with Audrey to show him what exactly?

The duo lurked in the hall just outside the garden of the Heart Shaped Herb. Erik had never bothered to spend much time here, even as a kid. He much preferred the Royal Greenhouse to this singular garden. Cast in the purple glow from the flower itself, the whole room looked like a menacing dream. Women in long robes shuffled around, standing and stooping to complete their duties along the way.

“Zuri has been sending gardeners away all week. They leave with something wrapped in cloth and return with nothing.” Just as W’Kabi said it, a gardener scurried off with a cloth wrapped package.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“He started doing it the second you arrived my Prince.” Erik’s head spun with the possibilities, but he didn’t latch onto anything just yet. He needed to do some research.

“W’Kabi, tomorrow, I’m going to talk to a few people who knew my father. You coming?” W’Kabi nodded easily. He didn’t know N’Jadaka anymore, the princeling had changed a great deal in his time away from Wakanda, but those changed seemed to be for the better.

“Anything you need my Prince.”

—o—

Zuri of Badu was running out of time. He’d never been a stupid man, so why he deluded himself into believing he could hide the truth made no sense at all. Still his brain scurried like a rat, reaching for life rings in the form of ideas that would never truly save him. The evidence of his service to T’Chaka was littered around his room. There were small things he’d never gotten rid of, only swept under his bed and behind his wardrobe until he forgot about them completely.

It was like N’Jadaka was the catalyst for all of these things resurfacing. Like an earthquake, he shook evidence free. Tickets flutters from the place in the rafters of his room, dust trickling down alongside it. A blindfold found its way from under the bed. A bloody panther claw rolled out from underneath the wardrobe.

Each of these items he sent to burn. He promise T’Chaka there would be no evidence, and in since the deed had been done, he grew lethargic in its wake. Now the prince had returned, and the Gardener scuttled to complete a twenty year old task.

—o—

June 29, 1920: Wakanda

Erik rose with the sun to meet Nelene Okiyete. Nelene was one of the two chairwomen for the Wakandian Farmers Association. The other was her twin sister Mokate. Nelene was a stocky woman, skin darkened by the sun and arms strengthened by working the land. She had a smile a mile wide and welcomed N’Jadaka to her lands with open arms.

“Come in, come in my prince.” She shuffled N’Jadaka into a sunroom that overlooked her vast fields.

“I must admit, I was happy to hear that the lost prince hadn’t lost his love for the land. Just like his mother.” N’Jadaka could only smile and duck his head at the mention of his mother, heart twinging at the thought of her.

“Thank you for having me over Aunti.” Nelene waved him off and poured some tea, gesturing for N’Jadaka to seat on the plushly cushioned wicker chairs. He sank into the seat reaching for a cookie from the low silver table. No doubt it was made of vibranium or gilded to look so.

“How is Kae doing?” Nelene asked innocently as she child into a chair of her own beside N’Jadaka. She could see so much of his father in him. The quiet intellect that simmered beneath the surface, how his eyes scanned every part of a room the second he entered, those sharp little ears.

“What?” Nelene nodded to Erik’s hair and his hand shot up to the dreads.

“I’d know her work anywhere.” N’Jadaka nodded uncomfortably, flashes of his last meeting with Mrs. Kae flooding his mind as shame filled his gut. He wondered what Kae would think of him now, having found Wakanda.

“She’s alright.” Nelene nodded into her tea, taking another sip before speaking.

“Well you’ve got me here Prince, what do you want to know?”

“Anything you can tell me about my father and Zuri would be good.”

“Your father and Zuri?” N’Jadaka only nodded intently, encouraging Nelene to continue.

“There’s not much to tell. I’m pretty sure those two hated each other.”

“Did they always?” Nelene nodded and then slowed, biting her lip and furrowing her brow. Thinking.

“I suppose not. I think Zuri’s true anger reared its head when N’Jobu met your mother. Bast he had stars in his eyes for that women and no one could shake them free. Not that I blame him. Your mother was a beauty.” Nelene winked her brown eyes at Erik jovially.

“N’Jobu couldn’t do enough for that girl. Always coming to Wakanda to bring her fresh blooms and new seeds. He would have done anything for that woman. Would have done anything for you too.” She nodded to N’Jadaka seriously.

“So Zuri hated my pops because he was in love?”

“I don’t think that was it.” She paused and glanced around. “I overheard a conversation between the King, your Father and the Gardener once. N’Jobu was trying to convince the king to provide aid to the Southern American states. Zuri and the king would not have it.”

Nelene could remember the conversation like it was yesterday. She had just finished her first meeting as secretary for the WFA and may have found herself a bit lost on the way out. The trio stood there bickering back and forth like children about the fate of an entire country.

“The King said something along the lines of ‘I cannot rule Wakanda and the Southern United States brother’ and N’Jobu grew increasingly frustrated.” Nelene turned to see N’Jadaka nearly tipping forward out of his chair to listen. She gave him a sad smile.

“I’ve never seen your father so angry before. By all accounts, he was the fun brother.” A small chuckle escaped her mouth. “But not after what the King had said. Bast he was heated. He told the king that ‘This is not about ruling or power’” Nelene paused for effect, turning her entire body towards N’Jadaka

“N’Jobu practically spat the words at his brother. He told T’Chaka ‘We have turned our backs on our brethren for too long. If we do not check ourselves now it will be too late to salvage even a sliver of our humanity ubhuti.’”

“And Zuri?”

“Zuri comforted the King.”

—o—

Audrey had work to do. The next Council meeting is in a few days, and she promised Shuri to have the maps done by then. In return, Shuri had slid an impossible amount of American Dollars into her suitcase. Audrey nearly had a heart attack when she saw the envelope. She would have never thought to charge that much for a commission like this, but she is working with royalty.

She made her way to the Lab to find Shuri and continue her work. Music was blasting from the space as usual, it made it easier to find in the winding hallways and staircases of the vast Wakandan palace. Shuri was jumping up and down excitedly as she spoke to Ayo, who listened on, unamused.

“…and that way the bucket falls on his head.” Shuri slapped her hands together excitedly and Ayo rolled her eyes.

“Shuri, what are you talking about?”

“Oh nothing dear cousin.” Audrey raised her eyebrow and Shuri crumbled.

“Fine. Ayo and I were just planning a little prank for the king and his future advisor, cousin.”

“I am not planning anything. I am merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Audrey’s smile lifted at Ayo’s smart retort and it only took a second for her to respond.

“I want in.” Shuri pumped her arm excitedly whispering ‘yes!’ while Audrey continued. “And why are you calling me cousin? We aren’t related.”

“Not yet, but I am sure we are about to be cousin. I saw the way N’Jadaka gazed at you. That man is point two seconds from professing his love to you and proposing.” Audrey couldn’t keep her heart from jumping at the idea of it, but she still shook her head at Shuri.

“He’s not focused on me. He’s got too much ambition to focus on me Shuri.”

“Sure.” Shuri rolled her eyes at Audrey’s comment. She’d spent plenty of time with N’Jadaka since his return and she could tell her cousin was 100% gone on Audrey. She watched his eyes dart to Audrey every time she entered a room. His hand hovered behind her back whenever they walked together. His eyes twinkled whenever they bantered. Bast, at this point Audrey could propose and he’d say yes.

“I didn’t come down here to plan pranks with you though. I need to keep working on those maps of Jabariland for the Council meeting.” Shuri had mentioned that Audrey could use the old cartographer’s office today and she was ready to spread out. The desk in her room was perfectly adequate for letter writing, but she needed more space. For the first time since she’d arrived in Wakanda, Audrey missed Cade’s Atlas.

Catching on quickly, Shuri led Audrey back up the steps of the Lab. She wove them through small walkways Audrey had never noticed before and expansive rooms that held windows bigger than her apartment. Finally they reached a room with a wooden door. The only wooden door Audrey had ever seen in the palace.

“The old cartographer married a Jabari woman. This was a gift from her wife I think. We haven’t had an official cartographer since before I was born though.” The door swung open to reveal a room twice the size of Cade’s Atlas. The vibranium floors, while dusty, still glittered. A large window was covered with a dark heavy drape and Shuri coughed as she pulled it open.

“Baba used to warn me against going in here. Said I would be bored to tears.” Shuri shrugged as she found the light switch. The bulbs took a moment to flick on, and Audrey was stunned to see the immaculate vibranium table. Half of it was covered in glass and lit from beneath creating an amazing lightbox, and the other half was the smoothest surface she’d ever felt. Her fingers itched to dip a pen in ink and get to work.

—o—

July 2, 1920: Wakanda

Audrey paced the vibranium floor so much she thought shed run a hole in it. She’s finished mapping Jabariland days ago. That wasn’t what compelled her to pace. That wasn’t what tied her stomach in knots. That wasn’t what kept her completely puzzled. When she had first started working in the old cartographer’s office, she’d flown through the Jabariland commission. She even made the changes Shuri suggested before tracing a copy in archival ink.

She found the maps on the lightbox. Audrey was planning to neatly pile all of the papers to the side of the table so she could finish up the commission, but the maps on the lightbox would let her. So instead, she studied them. They were maps of Wakanda and the southern states. In the mid 1800’s the island looked to be 500 or so miles away. But when she placed the map from 1900 over top of it, the island seemed to be drifting farther into the sea. Another map from 1905 confirmed her suspicions.

According to these maps Wakanda was drifting out to sea. Which in itself wasn’t too much of a cause for alarm, but there were numbers—calculations written all over the maps. This drifting wasn’t natural, it was plotted, planned, calculated even, and right underneath the calculations on every map was T’Chaka’s name, scratched in black ink.

It was more advanced than anything she had ever seen. No one had ever moved land mass like this. It shouldn’t have been possible. Audrey knew that Wakanda was advanced but she never imagined something like this. And why would T’Chaka push the island further away from civilization. Sure the south isn’t the greatest place to live, but southerners are notorious for being friendly neighbors. Why would anyone go to so much trouble? To push an island into the sea?

Audrey thought for a moment about telling Erik. He might be able to explain some of this, but something stopped her. This was bigger than whatever they were. It was definitely bigger than what Erik probably knew. This is a question for the king. Audrey bit her lip and pushed away the pang of betrayal she felt when she wrote Erik off. T’Challa is king, he has to know about this first.

It took her half a day to sketch copies of the maps, but by lunchtime she had gathered them into a thin folder. It took her another half day to write a note to T’Challa. She wasn’t sure how to word any of this, especially if T’Challa had no idea this was happening so she did her best to be concise. The moon illuminated the sky by the time she finished.

Winding her way through the palace, Audrey made it to T’Challa’s office. She only knew where it was because it was right beside Erik’s. She caught sight of his glittering vibarnium nameplate and smiled. N’Jadaka Udaku, Advisor to the King. Erik had come a long way, hell he had come home. Audrey hoped this wouldn’t ruin anything for him, hoped that her curiosity wouldn’t get her in trouble. Still unsure of her decision, Audrey slid the papers under T’Challa’s door praying to whoever was listening that she made the right decision.

—o—

Zuri could remember the night it all happened. He was a garden apprentice then, only trusted to purify the water and prune the new growth. T’Chaka and N’Jobu had made their way into the garden, voices carrying angrily as they drifted closer to Zuri. On his knees Zuri could just see their figures huddled close.

“Brother you can not keep pushing the island away from this! They will come soon enough.” N’Jobu had never cared for their plan to push the island further away from the mainland.

“I know you are upset about your wife, but moving Wakanda is the only way to keep our people safe.”

“This is not about my wife. This is about Wakanda brother.”

“Are you sure about that ubhuti?”

“As your trusted advisor, I propose we go to the mainland.” Zuri had to hold back a scoff at the use of the word ’trusted.’ T’Chaka hadn’t trusted his brother since the day he returned from the mainland, calling for a better future for people that were not his own.

“Talk to the people there, fight for them. If we build those people up—If we build our people up, protecting Wakanda from the mainland’s oppressors will no longer be an issue brother. If we welcome them home, they will see its importance. They will help us protect it, just as we helped them.”

“This is too great a problem to bend to your ridiculous ideologies N’Jobu.”

“So you would hide us away?” T’Chaka was silent for a time, Zuri held his breath even tighter then.

“We must help them. They are people just like us. They come from our lands, they are our people.” The rest transpired so quickly Zuri could not fathom it. The pair fought for that last time that night, and when Zuri scrambled and surveyed the scene he retched. The king on his knees, his brother in his lap, a gleaming vibranium claw stuck in his chest.

“My King. I am sorry.” Zuri could remember the embarrassment that flamed in his queasy stomach after vomiting in front of the king.

“Zuri, speak nothing of this day.” Zuri had agreed, even offered his assistance in any way he could. The king commanded he clean up the mess of N’Jobu, and they plotted what to do with N’Jadaka. From that day on, they were co-conspirators. Now the king was dead, another in his place, and Zuri, son of Badu could do nothing but choke on the secrets and the lies.

—o—

Another morning in the fields and another afternoon at the palace. Nelene had been helping N’Jadaka with well…everything. She taught him how to test the soil, and replot the land. She helped him research the best hops that would grow in the Wakandan climate and encouraged him to try a few different seedlings along with his main planned harvest.

Overnight, Nelene had become like a mother to him. Erik remembered when he would sit with his mother at the end of every winter. He would swing his feet beneath the wooden kitchen chair as he sat at the table with his mother, plotting the coming year’s harvest. She would always let him chose a new plant to try, grinning when he chose something outrageous. Still somehow, his mother made something grow.

He had to blink away the memory when he arrived at the palace before being swept away by his tutors. He’d already had all of the lessons he could from Ramonda, and the Council demanded he be well versed in all things Wakanda, but there were only so many senseless Wakandian etiquette rules that a man could take before he felt ready to bump off the next person who demanded he greet his cousin like a ‘king.’

Erik sighed with relief when he was finally released from his classes, deciding to make his way to the greenhouse. He could catch up with W’Kabi another time. For now, he just wanted to breathe in the plants and admire their color. Halfway to the royal hothouse he ran into Okoye. The two had never talked much, silently sized each other up and ignoring the need for communication. Apparently, that was over for Okoye.

“I have half a mind to ask you what you are really doing in Wakanda, but even I am not bold enough to question royalty.” Erik rolled his eyes and held back a snort. He’d seen the general in Council meetings. She couldn’t hold her tongue any more than he could hold his.

“You can relax Okoye. I’m not here to to anything but farm my father’s land.” An easy lie for it was a half truth. Erik still searched for the truth of what happened to his father, but Okoye didn’t need to know that.

“So you are N’Jadaka Udaku, the first Wakandan prince without ambition?” Her voice dripped with skepticism, and N’Jadaka shook his head.

“I didn’t say all that. Just that I don’t want no dinky ass chair to get fat in.” Okoye studied him for a long while. He raised his brow in challenge and she nodded in acceptance.

“Kuba ngumthetheli ongenakunqwenela. Ubukumkani abukho indawo yezihlunu.” With that warning uttered she marched off, leaving N’Jadaka to his devices.

—o—

July 3, 1920: Wakanda

“Shuri!” The prank went off without a hitch. Well, sort of. Erik was supposed to get hit with the water too, but he was a bit too fast for the bucket.

“It wasn’t all me brother! Audrey did it too!”

“Shuri!” Audrey gasped the name and whipped her head back to a bewildered T’Challa. “I didn’t sir, um I mean, your majes—” Audrey couldn’t continue her fumbling because Erik had burst out laughing.

Audrey had never seen him like this, clutching his sides and bending over in glee. Shuri wasn’t much better, even Ayo cracked a smile. Still, Audrey was happy that the throne room sat relatively empty. The queen was there, sat regally in her throne. A few of the Dora were there too, Okoye doing a much better job at hiding her amusement than Ayo.

“Audrey, do you have a moment?” Shuri’s laughter ended abruptly. Erik whispered ‘ohhh’ like a school child. Audrey squared her shoulders and followed Ramonda’s retreating form while Shuri and Erik whispered back and forth.

Audrey followed Ramonda through the ornate palace halls squinting as the sunlight strobed in her face as she passed window after window. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to catch up to Ramonda or stay behind but after a few minutes of walking she nearly bumped into Ramonda’s back when she stopped in the center of the hallway.

They had passed a few doors along the way, glittering with vibranium locks and panther carved handles, but now there were only paintings. Paintings of prestigious Kings and Queens, panthers and generals. Ramonda had stopped the pair in front of a painting of a woman. The entire image was cast in blue. Violet and cerulean glanced off of the woman’s broad nose and left a dreamy glint in her big brown eyes. With her left arm outstretched Ramonda grazed her fingers along the wall beneath the painting.

“Years ago, my mother was the country cartographer.” The vibranium nameplate gleamed under her brown thumb. Cebisa Undakewe, Official Cartographer of Wakanda.

“She travelled all over the island mapping courses and painting worlds on paper. She was the first to map Jabariland. She was the only one they allowed in. I can still remember when the king requested her presence in the palace. It was how I met T’Chaka.” Ramonda’s face drifted into a soft smile.

“He was so rude to my mother, I told him off. I Let him know that no one, prince or otherwise speaks to my mother with anything less than respect. I can still see the shock on his face!” She chuckled a bit, and Audrey’s face lifted into a tight smile still wondering what she was doing here.

“You remind me of her. I can see a world of wonder in your eyes. They way you hold your pen…Bast she never went anywhere without a pen.” Ramonda pressed her thumb into the wall, and to the right the wall split, drifting into the floor and ceiling respectively.

“The king was impressed when he saw my mother’s map. Hired her on the spot. Gave her this room to map the world ten times over.” Ramonda gestured for Audrey to walk in ahead of her and after another moment of hesitation she did.

The room itself wasn’t much to look at in comparison to the rest of the palace.

“I don’t mean to be rude Queen Ramonda, but—”

“Why did I bring you here?” Audrey nodded. “I’ve kept this place a secret for longer than I care to remember. I was hiding it. After my mother died I would come here until it no longer smelled like her sweet jasmine and cocoa scent. When that faded I could not bring myself to return. T’Chaka did not understand the pain of it, losing a mother, but I could not fathom another being in this space, her space. Until I met you.”

“You tumbled onto our little island and brought my nephew home. I prayed to Bast for him back and She dropped you into our laps like a gift. My mother would want you to create more worlds here. I want you to use her space as she did in the past.” Revive her memory. If only for a moment.

“Queen Ramonda I—”

“Please, call me Ramonda, or Auntie if that suits you.” Audrey’s eyes widened at the queen’s wink and she nodded.

“I do hope you stay Audrey. N’Jadaka is very clearly taken with you, as he should be.”

“Enkosi.”

“Your Wakandan is getting better!” Audrey could only nod bashfully. She wasn’t perfect, but she was trying.

—o—

July 5, 1920: Wakanda

“Stevens! Wait up.” Each day since she returned from Jabariland Audrey saw Erik in his father’s fields talking to all manner of people. Farmers mostly she assumed, but sometimes a guard slipped into the crowd, or a Border Tribesman. Audrey knew that N’Jobu had never had any sort of official affiliation with the tribe, so this had to be a new alliance. The idea of an alliance of any kind made Audrey…suspicious.

“Hey babydoll, what do you need?” Erik’s answer was easy. After all talking to Audrey had become eat most simple thing in his life at the moment. He hadn’t told her anything about the clandestine meetings, or his heavy surveillance of Zuri. She was a smart broad but she didn’t need to know all of that.

“What are you up to?” Erik should have known that he wouldn’t get anything past Audrey. He should have been surprised that Audrey held her tongue for this long. Instead, he let her question roll off of his back.

“What do you mean A?”

“I mean why are you meeting with the Border Tribe.”

“There’s something going on here Audrey. I need to get to the bottom of it.”

“Of course there’s something going on here. There are a million things going on here! It’s a Royal Court Stevens! That doesn’t mean you need to do whatever it is you’re doing now. I thought you came here for land. To start farming it and brewing and selling? have you forgotten about that?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. But ever since we got here, things have been strange Audrey. Certain stories just don’t add up.”

“What stories?”

“My disappearance for one. Everyone thinks I was taken by Klaue. That he killed my father and kidnapped me, but that’s not what I remember.”

“I thought you didn’t remember it at all.” Audrey remembered him mentioning that when they were first working on the map, that he couldn’t remember exactly how he got to America from Wakanda, just that he did.

“I don’t remember much. Just a blindfold, leaves brushing against my arms and silence.”

“That’s not nothing. Eri—” Audrey was interrupted yet again by a small Wakandan man. he held a satchel and a tablet the lit up his face. The back of it gleamed with solar panels and it fit into the palm of his hand. He tapped the screen with his fingers frustrated, murmuring about ‘annoying prototypes’ and something in Wakandan she couldn’t understand.

“Miss Cade, there’s a letter for you from Jabariland.” He tapped the screen a few more times with his pointer finger and then dug into his satchel for a small envelope. It was brown, and covered in childlike lettering. The stamp held an image of a Gorilla with the word Hanuman stamped below it. Audrey was so stunned to receive a letter that Erik had to take it for her.

He studied the woman he had grown to admire closely. He knew at some point she had to have received a letter from someone but this one seemed to trigger her somehow. Audrey’s mind flashed to the last time she had gotten anything hand delivered like this.

In Audrey’s eyes this man looked just like the other postman that knocked on the door of Cade’s Atlas nearly a decade ago. Tired eyes and slouching back, spine curving into a ‘c’ under the weight of his messages.

“Miss Cade, I am sorry to have to share this news with you, but on his latest expedition your grandfather met an untimely end—” Audrey had stopped listening then, having heard all she needed to know. A large envelope fell into her hands. The deed to Cade’s Atlas among other things. Erik’s voice interrupted Audrey’s detached memory.

“Audrey! Babydoll, hey.” Erik waved his hands in front of her, crowding her space and shuffling her towards the wall and away from the center of the hallway. “What the hell is going on? You want me to get rid of this thing?” Erik motioned to the letter in his hand and Audrey snapped back into action, snatching the brown paper from his hands.

“No. I—I got it, thanks.” Audrey ran her hands over the rough brown paper, admiring the pulp and blotchy ink.

To: Bincinke Audrey Cade

From: Princess Ti of the Jabari Tribe

With a smile and a deep breath Audrey broke the chunky wax seal. There were two pieces of parchment folded into the envelope, one a letter that detailed all of Ti’s exploits with her sisters and a question on when Audrey would return to Jabariland; the other was a map “home to Jabariland. Just in case you forget bincinke!” Audrey breathed out a laugh at the map’s title, and Erik couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

“Audrey, what was that abo—l” He could see Audrey shutting down, her lips closing tightly and eyes going hard. “Never mind, what did you get?”

“It’s a map. Ti drew it for me.” Audrey ran her fingers over the chunky hills and watery lakes that lay between the palace and Jabariland. Erik came around to her shoulder, leaning over it. He was so close to Audrey that his breath fanned the page and she could smell the earth on him.

“Cute.” Audrey nodded, and the pair resumed their palace stroll. Erik standing closer to Audrey than before and studying her for any sign of…whatever had just happened. They ambled past the kitchens and library in silence nearly at the Council Chambers before Audrey spoke again.

“What are you going to do?” Erik took his time formulating his response. He knew Audrey would wait for him. Raised voices from the Council room interrupted his thoughts and drew his and Audrey’s attention.

“You were never going to tell me? That my father the King—Bast Zuri.” It was T’Challa speaking to Zuri the succinct gardener that also happened to be T’Challa’s most trusted advisor.

“How could he kill his own brother?”

“N’Jobu was never fit to lead Wakanda. He always had his eyes in another man’s revolution. When N’Jobu came to the Council begging to aid the newly freed slaves in building their lives, T’Chaka refused. He knew Wakanda would stretch itself too thin.”

Zuri could remember that night. T’Chaka had sent the Council home after a full hour of arguing went on between him and N’Jobu. The sun has melted into the horizon and the moon rose from the sea. Still the pair fought.

“How can you turn your back so easily brother? And to actively push the island away from the mainland…I assume the Council does not know.” N’Jobu had been disturbed to learn of T’Chaka’s plan to push the island farther into the sea. Zuri saw no problem with the action. It was the only way to keep Wakanda out of the clutches of oppressors who would see to pillage the island they so deeply love. The country they so violently fought for.

“I am not our father. I refuse to indulge every one of your whims N’Jobu. I have a country to lead.” T’Chaka had been dismissive of N’Jobu’s pleading since his coronation. N’Jobu did not understand what had happened to cause such a marked change in his brother’s ideals. He could still remember the days they vowed to free the mainlanders of their chains and help them build a Wakanda on the coast.

“What is that supposed to mean ubhuti?”

“It means that Father turned his head when you brought that white man into our country to steal for your little rebellion. I will not do the same. I will not allow you to betray Wakanda for people that are not our own.” T’Chaka spit the words. N’Jobu had been at this for too long, and it was his fault, T’Chaka thought. As king, he never should have allowed that extended war dog mission to the American South. It only served to radicalize his brother and produced an unnecessary heir to the Wakandan throne.

“He knew?”

“He was the Black Panther. King of Wakanda. Nothing gets past him brother. He encouraged me to indulge your whims, but I can not in good conscience allow you to do this any longer.” Zuri remembered the relief that flooded his heart. Finally the king would no longer be beholden to his brothers indiscretions. Finally T’Chaka could truly be great.

“Why did he not say anything then.”

“He believed your cause noble. Honorable even.” T’Chaka’s derisive snort rivaled that of their mother’s. A woman known for her intelligence and intolerance for idiocy.

“And you ubhiti? Do you not feel the same?”

“They fought. T’Chaka lived. N’Jadaka was all that was left. We had to loose him, leave him.” Zuri was still shaking himself from the memory when T’Challa responded.

“No. No.” T’Challa’s head spun. For years he had allowed Zuri to lead the search for N’Jadaka. For year he had searched for his cousin himself. Now to find he was never meant to be found, to learn that his father killed his own brother.

“Klaue attempted to break out of the prison that same night. We staged a kidnapping. We had to maintain the lie. We left him far from the border of. To grow and forget our Wakanda.”

“Zuri—”

“We had to do it T’Challa, if he is his father’s child…his presence here will bring more pain than joy.” Erik had heard enough, and he was gone before Audrey could reach for him. She stood in the glittering palace hallway, wishing for the first time that she had never found Wakanda at all.

—o—

July 6, 1920: Wakanda

N’Jadaka had a plan. A plan that would prove Zuri right, just before he burned the entire island to the ground. It’s what they all deserve. He had already relayed a version of the plot to W’Kabi, telling him just what he needed to know and nothing more. W’Kabi would get him access to where he needed to be, and all he would need to do is light the match to watch the island burn. Finally, he felt like Killmonger again.

Audrey had spent all day searching for Erik. He wasn’t in his cottage, or his palace room, not in his father’s fields or in the lavish library overflowing with books. He didn’t want to be found so Audrey changed tactics. She looked for his allies. The farmers were all home, and she didn’t find a border tribesman to follow until the morning. After two hours of following the man on errands, she found Erik in the palace basement. The only dark place she’d ever seen in Wakanda.

The basement was cool, a stark contrast to the wet island heat Audrey had gotten used to. Erik stood centered on the concrete floor surrounded by vibranium chests and rolls of parchment. Audrey could only see his back, covered in keloids and broad shoulders rising and falling slowly. he looked larger than Audrey remembered.

“Erik.” Audrey voice drifted through the room and Erik cocked his head towards the sound. He never answered, or turned so Audrey tried again.

“Erik, what are you doing down here?” Erik reveled in the way his name fell from her lips, knowing it’s probably the last time he’ll hear it.

“He killed my father.” Audrey had nothing to say to that, and Erik knew she wouldn’t. He reveled in her cautious silence like he never had before.

“I can’t let that go dollface.” Audrey’s lip curled in annoyance. The nickname was enough to know that she was speaking to the infamous Killmonger. Erik Stevens was no longer rational, no longer calling the shots.

“You should talk to T’Challa.” Killmonger scoffed. “I’m not telling you to let it all go, but T’Challa didn’t even know, Erik.” It felt strange saying his name so often, but Audrey was willing to try anything to bring killmonger to his senses. Whatever he was planning would be too much.

“Why are you trying to protect him?”

“I’m not trying to protect him I’m trying to protect you.” And she was. She had already caught sight of the matchbook clenched in his hands. Audrey had a feeling that there was more than vibranium chests and parchment down here.

“Everything you’ve worked for, all of this? You want to destroy it like that?” She snapped her fingers before continuing.

“They offered you a position as advisor to the king! You can use your position to get what you really want. You can use it to better the world like your father wanted.” Erik twitched at the use of his father’s words. Audrey knew he would hate her for it, but she also knew he would hate himself more if he destroyed his home.

“They killed my pops Audrey. My father! All because he ain’t agree with the king. I can’t let that slide.” Erik finally turned, and Audrey hated herself for jumping. She had never seen him so angry. His dreads fell in his face and his golden fangs were bared in anger. Steeling herself, Audrey pushed forward, closer to Killmonger.

“So what are you going to do? Kill the royal court?” Audrey’s arms waved in question. “I wish you could hear yourself Erik! God I wish you would just take a moment to think. Erik Azzuri Stevens.” Erik stilled, it was the first time he’d heard Audrey say his full name. It burned on the way down. He knew he’d never hear it again.

“Imma do what I have to to honor my father Audrey.” Audrey shook her head in disappointment.

“You know, I always wondered what it would be like. To know my home, to know who I’m really supposed to be. I would kill to feel like I truly belong somewhere, to stand in my history. Hell to even know my history and you— You have it all. You’re a freaking prince. You’re home, and you want to throw it away?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Of course I understand Erik! They left you, they took me. My ancestors, our ancestors were never even supposed to be here. We were traded and sold and left alone in this world—” Tears fell, and Audrey tried to wrangle her cracking voice.

“Of course I understand Erik.”

“It’s not that simple dollface.”

“It never is, but that doesn’t mean you throw it all away.”

“You should go.”

—o—

So she left. Audrey packed her things, grabbing the key to Killmonger’s model T and hopped on the next ferry to the mainland. The border tribe said nothing as she boarded the boat and only one thing when it docked on the soil of South Carolina.

“NgoMeyi Makugcinwe udade okhuselekileyo.” Exhausted and cried out, Audrey couldn’t even begin trying to decipher that sentence.

Instead she unfurled the map that got her into this mess, and made her way to Erik’s automobile. The sleek black machine started without a problem and she pushed the pedal hard, sailing down Highway 17, towards home. In a blink she was back in Charleston rolling the car to a stop in front of Oakies.

It looked just as dingy as it had when they left, Lights flickering in the lettered sign and music spilling into the street. Her feet carried her into the bar before her mind could stop them and she made her way to Killmonger’s golden booth. The music tonight was harsher than she’d ever heard it, and Audrey closed her eyes to listen.

I know a couple of devils in Prada tuxedos…

A dark skinned man spoke into the microphone while a woman crooned beside him. Audrey gazed at the pair, taking in the woman’s braided hair tucked into a silken scarf. She swallowed and sunk further into the booth, letting the music wash over her.

I think there’s something in the water…

Slowly, Audrey’s mind awoke from being on autopilot during her journey. Inhaling made her heart lurch. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. What she just left. Who she just left. Erik was—is hurting. She shouldn’t have— The front door banged against the wall and Junie’s voice jolted Audrey out of her spiraling mind.

“Audrey Cade! You’re back!” Junie ambled to the gold booth where her friend sat, taking her in. Her skin shone like it never had before, she looked younger and wiser somehow and Junie couldn’t stop the grin that formed on her face. She missed her little sister. Sliding into the booth with a smile, Junie waved down a waiter.

“So how was it? Tell me everything.”

That sentence was all it took for Audrey to break down in tears.

—o—

His car key was gone. Audrey was gone. He sent Audrey away. Erik didn’t think she would actually listen. This is the first time she’s ever truly listened to his demands. Fuck.

Erik had already been to her room. He had already stared at the empty closet for too long and rooted around the desk. The drawers were empty, no ink, no paper, no Audrey. Erik even went where he shouldn’t have, to her secret mapmaking room. he ran his fingers searchingly along the walls until he found the button that allowed him access. He spent hours pouring over the maps, her maps. The whole place even smelled like her.

For a second he convinced himself that nothing had changed. Erik imagined a future where even in his prince hood she would come home to him every night. He would pick something from the fields to cook, and she would tell him all about her daily adventures. After dinner she would sketch him as he read, or did dishes, or wrote. When the moon and stars kissed the sky they would fall into bed together lazily, and drift into a dreamless sleep. They didn’t need dreams anymore, they lived one.

“My Prince.” N’Jadaka was jolted from his reverie by W’Kabi.

“Everything is prepared.” Erik nodded. Still, even with Audrey on his mind he couldn’t shake his ideals. She may have soothing answers but the truth still burns him. Flame was licking his stomach from the inside out.

“My prince, are you ready?” W’Kabi questioned.

With a strike and a breath, N’Jadaka lit the match.

—o—

Translations

Kuba ngumthetheli ongenakunqwenela. Ubukumkani abukho indawo yezihlunu: Be careful ambitionless Prince. The monarchy does not have room for fools.

—o—

Enkosi: Thank you

—o—

Bincinke: Explorer (Hausa)

—o—

NgoMeyi Makugcinwe udade okhuselekileyo: may Bast keep you safe sister.

A/N: So...yeah...Erik’s going through it. All has been revealed and...shit stinks okay. To be honest that last conversation between Erik and Audrey was one of the first scenes I wrote when I was imagining this story. As an African-American I found it so so easy to relate to Erik in the movie because DAMN y’all didn’t want to help nobody Wakanda??? For real???? But I’m with Audrey on this one, if some how I could find my way back home and be embraced the way that Erik is...Idk man...I might not feel so adrift. At least in terms of family history and whatnot.

I think I’m in love with the idea of knowing who I could have been had slavery and all that foul shit not happened. What my culture would have been, or how my diet would be different, even the different bedtime stories I might have heard as a child. I’m into theorizing about that I guess if that makes sense. Which is why the conversation Audrey has with Erik is so important to me.

Anyways...enough about me. So...the couple is separated and Erik is ready to drop that match on Wakandan soil...I can fix this I think. It’ll just take some time for those two to find their way back home.

I really hope no one is disappointed by this. I’ve put a lot into this fic and this is always how it was going to end. I actually never start writing a story until I know how I want it to end. Either way, I love you all for liking and reading and reblogging and reviewing, you’ve made my life much richer! 😘

Only the epilogue to go, and then it’s on to another story. 😎An even crazier AU

Also! I’ve been posting this fic on Ao3 my username there is thegirlwiththebags here’s the link if you want to read it there! I always post on tumblr first though 😊😊😊

Taglist: @muse-of-mbaku @k-michaelis @nemesispawn @queenamaniii @thatrandomfangirl98 @princessstevens @killmongurl @bidibidibombaclaat @thelovelyliterary @panthergoddessbast @dreadedphilosphy @elaindeereads @thedom223

#A Map Made in Heaven #my writing #mine #bp fic #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black!OC #black panther #erik killmonger fic #1920's AU

44 notes · View notes

youngerdrgrey · 7 years ago

Note

CHARMY? 1. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant? 2. Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving? 3. Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it say?) 4. Who initiates sex? 5. Who wants kids? How many? 6. Who apologizes first? 7. Pet names or nicknames? 8. Who says "I love you" first? 9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear? 10. Who proposes? 11. biggest potential threat to their relationship?

(yesss anon, thank you for these, and since I haven’t updated this week, I wanted to answer these as mini-fics, but they all sort of blurred into one fic, as told by little vignettes. + read it on ao3 if you want bc this got a little long)

first time she got to a restaurant before him, all she could think about was standing him up on their first date. him, outside Vi’s, looking fine with some flowers in his hand, and her, on the other side of town, conniving with Lena.

but she gets used to it. they’re both busy, usually meeting up from wherever they’ve been, and she might be a workaholic, but at least she makes her own hours so she tends to beat him to their dates.

eventually, Charley starts sliding into booths without a second thought. she shifts her phone from her hand so it’s propped against her shoulder. says, “I hear you, Rah, just–one second.” She smiles over at the server. “I’m sorry, my partner’s still out. He got caught up in office hours. Just two specials for us, one with the egg over medium, runny’s fine for the other. Can we get an extra side of bacon and one coffee, one tea. Extra honey please, and the vanilla creamer, if you have it today.”

She smiles at Michelle a second time before going back to her phone.

Ralph Angel chuckles. “Partner, huh?”

normally, his hand’s on hers the second they’re out the parking lot. windows up, AC blaring, and the thrum of the car beneath them, but tonight, he could split his knuckles with how tight he chokes the wheel. his teeth grind loud enough that he turns on the music, and she watches the seconds on the song tick up. the rain beats at the windows. the road’ll probably be flooded by morning, so she shouldn’t jog tomorrow. jogging by the barracks doesn’t work as well anyway, so it’s fine. and after this fight, she’ll definitely be back home tonight.

not that she doesn’t like being home. she has her own place for a reason. Micah has a room there. she has most of her clothes there. she’s just gotten used to spending their nights together at his place, where the floorboards creak in greeting and the nightstand has her extra phone charger.

but she’s the one who started the fight tonight. she’s the one who corrected the waiter who called her his wife and said, “Not that Charley Bordelon-Newell doesn’t sound amazing, I just don’t know if I want to do that again.”

his eyes had frozen, pupils forcibly in place while the muscles in his cheek flexed. he’d blinked eventually, but even that came off disappointed. hurt even.

now he drives without looking her way, and she rubs her palms against each other. because she’s not wrong not to want to do that again. she’s not wrong for wanting to just enjoy the relationship without it having to become a marriage. Vi and Hollywood are the strongest, most stable relationship she knows, and they’re not married, so why do she and Remy have to be?

she can’t marry someone just because they want to marry her. she can’t become someone’s everything again only to find out that it’s just another word to them. just another contract worthy of breaching for a better deal somewhere else.

the light in front of them turns yellow. windshield wipers swish, and the song ends without fading into the next one. she’d never expected that Davis would hurt her like that, so she can’t know for sure that Remy won’t either. she can’t let herself be left again.

but she also really doesn’t want to go home alone. she only has the back up toothpaste at the barracks since Micah’s been with Davis for over a week now. she doesn’t even know if the creamer in her fridge is still good. it was for the seventeenth last she checked, and it’s at least the twenty-third, and if she goes home after a fight like this, if there’s no bridging a gap like this, then what have they been doing all this time? what does she have when the person she fought to be with isn’t the person she gets to stay with?

he eases up so they stop before the red light. his grip lightens enough that it’s almost like normal. when he’d drop the wheel and scoop up her hand instead.

so she puts her hand out there. fingers up and splayed, blood pumping loud enough that she can feel the pulse through each finger. and if she stares at her ring finger a little longer than the others, well, it’s just the subject of the night. just because he’s mad that she doesn’t want to marry him and she’s upset that he wants to marry her and they keep finding out that their differences might be stronger than any of the similarities that brought them together in the first place. her fingers jump, and she sighs. lets her eyes drop and flips her hand back over.

but the next song starts. and he slips his hand off the wheel and takes hers. his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t let go, and she shifts so their fingers can lock up again.

his throat croaks when he goes to talk. vocal chords still tight from clenching up. “Where to?”

“I would say your place or mine, but I don’t want to go home without you.”

he nods like that tells him all he needs to know. she only sees the green of the light as it reflects back in his eyes.

“My place it is.”

she’s gone by morning, but the coffee’s still hot in the french press when he wakes up. one of his grocery list slips pokes out from the mug next to it.

I’m not closed to the idea, he reads. Lunch?

but he’s got more meetings with collective members scheduled for his free hours today. so he writes under the note ( how about dinner instead? ) and snaps it to her.

she replies with a snap, already in her chair at the office. Too much to do here to be out all night again.

he doesn’t bother taking a picture, replying in the chat, I could drop by. then, to keep it light, he adds, meals beat mills.

her next snap’s just her laughing, eyes bright, teeth shining. “You’re stupid.” she’s always said it like I love you.

he takes a video back. lifts the camera up to hit the angles she’s been talking about. “I’ll come by once I’m done for the day.” he hits send and pours himself a cup of the coffee. adds another message, glad you’re not closed to it.

nights at her office always work out better than nights at his. her office sort of echoes. it’s got a bit of a warmth to it, but it’s like the bittersweet way they got together has stained the walls.

but his office? with the desks at just the perfect height for her to prop on top of?

she sucks her teeth when he suggests working out of there. says, “You know how you get.”

he plays innocent. says he just wants to work where his students could reach him if they needed anything. plus, all his designs are there. pretty much everything he needs to get her in there.

but they’re not there more than a few minutes before he starts leaning back in his chair. eyes hooded, lips slightly parted.

she rolls her eyes. “You’re not even gonna pretend you want to work?”

he points out, “You haven’t taken out your laptop.”

“So you can push it aside like last time?”

he has the decency to act like he’s sorry. while he lifts himself out the chair with two perfectly flexed arms and his head ducked down so his eyes blink straight up to hers. but once he stands to his full height, he towers over her, practically chest to chest, and he licks his lips just to watch her eyes follow his trail.

“Want me to apologize?”

fuck this guy.

(but also, fuck this guy.)

the whole family gets obsessed with the thought of babies. marriage isn’t a thing they talk about anymore, but kids have never been off the table.

he wants two more, he tells her. he thinks kids work well in threes so there’s always a bit of a balance there. nobody can clearly say that anybody else has more power or had it better.

being one of three, she snorts at the reasoning. but she wouldn’t mind doing it again, at least once.

“Not twice?”

she pecks him instead of answering. “Let’s try this one first, okay?”

she apologizes with soft kisses and takes months before the words start to come. she’s sorry for standing him up, or using up all the hot water, or the time she tells Nova about maybe being pregnant before she even thinks about telling him. but mostly, she’s sorry she’s not easier to love.

for his part, he’s sorry that he doesn’t always show how easy loving her actually is for him. he’s sorry that he speaks just as quick as she does but rarely takes anything back. and he’s sorry that he always seems to want more than she’s ready for.

but patience helps. and they get better at finding the words.

“Char.”

“Nope.”

“Charley.”

“I’m not doing this.”

“Charley, come on.”

“Saying my name’s not gonna change anything.”

he nudges her, forehead to forehead. “Please, Charley.”

“Fine.” she switches her phone to airplane mode. “We’ll tell him, but I don’t want to get his hopes up when there’s nothing real to say.”

“You’d rather surprise him when he gets back to see a nursery where his room used to be?”

“I’m not pregnant. And there’s not going to be a nursery at the barracks. I’m moving in before we get to that point.”

he hums. “Are you now?”

she hums. “I am. And we’ll fix up that swing on your back porch–”

“The swing’s great, it’s just–”

“Not built for two?”

“It’s built for two, just not the way we tried to use it.”

she rolls her eyes. he catches her lips before she can get annoyed with him again.

she groans against his lips. “Fine. I will tell Micah tonight.”

“Thank you.”

Micah rolls his eyes at the both of them. flat out, honest to God, rolls his eyes hard enough that his eyes just go white. “You had me come over here for this? Mom, I’m not stupid, okay, I knew you’d want to have more kids.”

“Really?” she hadn’t even known for sure she wanted to have more kids.

he shrugs. “I mean, you love me, and you didn’t mess me up too bad so–” he ducks the hand she shoves for his head “–I figured you’d want to do it again. and I mean, you love Remy so.”

she smiles and grabs his arms to pull him into a hug. he groans into it. even tries rolling out of her reach, but he holds her tight once he’s done acting tough.

“I love you, you know that?”

Micah nods into her shoulder. well, above her shoulder. seriously, when did he get so tall?

“He loves you too. He’s not like….” she can practically feel Micah’s internal fuck it before he finishes. “He’s not like Dad. I think it’d be good for you.”

she couldn’t work as hard. would need to eat better. might wind up spending extra time with her therapist to make sure she doesn’t sabotage everything. but she’d also get more time with Remy. more nights in their bed with their future clear in front of them. and Nova’s more than ready to cleanse and heal that house of his and have another nephew to spoil. or niece. with soft curls like Charley’s and kind eyes like Remy’s.

Micah snaps in her face. “Earth to Mom.”

“I’m here. I’m here.”

she texts Remy that night, while Micah’s pretending not to be texting Keke.

charley: He seems happy

remy: He’s a good kid. Why wouldn’t he be?

charley: I know, I guess I just didn’t want him to feel weird about it.

remy: He’ll tell us if he does. He’s not exactly shy about his feelings, Charley.remy: Not like you

charley: When have I ever been shy?

remy: With usremy: Shy to start, shy to say you wanted this

charley: I said I love you first

remy: You said you love this. I said I love you first

charley: I said “I love this. Being here, with you.”

remy: That’s not I love you, Charley.

“Micah, if I said, ‘I love this. Being here, with you.’ That’s saying ‘I love you,’ right?”

“I mean, kinda. It’s not the exact words though.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

“But then saying, ‘pick up your clothes’ could be ‘I love you’ if it’s just the thought that counts.”

she huffs. “Watch the TV.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

charley: fine, you said it first.

remy: I know

charley: but I made the first move

remy: ehhhh

she toes her shoes off in the doorway at Violet’s. Remy clicks his tongue as he crosses the room to her. his eyes sear along her dress, and his fingers unfurl like they’re ready to follow.

“You know how I feel about this dress.”

she ducks her head behind her hair so he can’t see her smile. can’t catch the way her chest hitches at the bass in his voice. his hand catches her hip though.

“Hello to you too.”

“Last time you wore this,” he pulls her to him. she sinks back against his chest, his breath hot at her ear, “we barely made it past the door. Gave the workers a show.” because somebody barely has any self-control. she can hold herself tight, can keep herself together, especially since she can hear Violet talking in the next room over. but him?

“You really want to do this?” it’s a warning, but it comes off more like an invitation.

“Think they’d notice?”

nobody knows she’s here yet. with the music on, with the game going, nobody’s paying much attention yet. they could slip back out to the car, just–

“Remy! Who’s at the door?”

just nothing.

“Charley!” he calls out at the same time as she says, “Me, Aunt Vi!”

she slips out of his hold. starts for the living room, but he catches her hand this time to stop her.

his voice comes out different – still full of bass, but more like his serious one. like he’s been ruminating and waiting for the right moment to say something.

“Sun porch, twenty minutes. Okay?”

her heart starts in her chest. her breath snags. “Following up on your offer?”

he shakes his head though. “Twenty minutes.” then he walks off, leaves her with nothing but that empty doorframe and a promise of something more.

for some reason, Nova takes the rest of the family out back twenty minutes later. Rah and her want to show off some changes they made to True North, and Remy’s nowhere to be found. Micah won’t meet her eye, but he also went for ‘a walk’ with Nova earlier so he probably just doesn’t want to get caught high in front of his mom.

Charley pads along the house to get to the sun porch. the first time she ever gave in to Remy was on that porch. first time she accepted that she needed to let go and start over. first time she slid into his open arms and knew that this could really be something.

his lips pull a little too thin when he tries to smile at her. his breaths seem to get lost somewhere in the depths of his chest. he says her name, and he clears his throat right after.

she hasn’t put on chapstick in a while. she blinks at the thought. furrows her brow at it too. her lips are dry, and she hasn’t put on chapstick, and he watches her like he’s watching the whole of the universe fold into itself in front of him. he watches her like she’s begging him to love her all over again, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“You and me, we haven’t always done great with putting our feelings into words. I think that, I know I put it best when I said that you were the first woman I wanted to know in years. And Charley,” he swallows so thick that she thinks they must have matching lumps in their throats, must have matching tears in their eyes, and his hands shake when they come up for hers. “Baby, you are the last woman I ever want to know. You are it. And these feelings aren’t done with me yet. And I don’t want a promise. I don’t want you to have my name. I don’t want this for any other reason than to be able to call you my wife. To not say partner like the business is the basis for who we are to each other. You said, the one thing we can control is our own story, and I want this to be a part of ours.”

her lips might crack if she says anything. and she can’t – she can’t stop blinking because the blinking keeps the tears from taking over her vision and blocking him out entirely. and the whole family’s definitely not looking at a boat, are they?

“Charley, will you marry me?”

it’s never easy between them.

the wedding doesn’t change that. the baby doesn’t change that.

the biggest threat to Charley and Remy will always be their pride. their need to be right and be everything for everybody all at once. but he holds her hand in the car even when he can’t look at her, and she says she’s sorry even when she can’t face being wrong, and sometimes, most times, that’s all it takes to really make it work.

Remy shushes their baby while pushing the menus over to Michelle. “Sorry, she’ll stop crying once she sees her mom.”

“Wife’s running late?”

and the baby’s cries get louder at that. “Yeah, just two specials. One egg over medium, runny for the other. Coffee, tea. Extra honey, and if you could just bring some ice cubes to run over her gums.”

“Charley’s or the little one’s?”

“Cute.”

“Just takin’ after y’all.”

he nods, smiles. “You know, we met at this diner. Me and my wife.”

“And you still drink the coffee? Even after tasting it?”

“Nothing a little sugar can’t fix.”

hmu with thoughts on any of these little moments. what y’all think about this?

#queen sugar #queen sugar fic #charmy #charley x remy #charley bordelon #remy newell #qs: fics #answered #filled #mine

10 notes · View notes

thelegendofclarke · 7 years ago

Note

In Roman mythology Janus stands for doors, beginnings, winter, journey etc. He's also double faced (Lord Slynt to the Wall, she had forgotten herself and said, "I hope the Others get him." The king had not been pleased)Janos is singularly important in Sansa&Jon's arcs He also connects them narrativly Since JonSa have a lot of parallels (arc&also personality wise) can you talk a bit Janus symbolism& what Janos Slynt mean for Jon/Sansa 1/2

2/2 Hope I made some sense (Please feel free to put on the shipper goggles) Plz give Napa a hug from me. I love your blog btw

Hey Anonny! That is so sweet, I am so flattered you like my little trash compactor of a blog :)

Ok so I ~might~ be on a bit of a different page than you with this. I definitely agree that the Janos/Janus connection and the symbolism associated with the god Janus is present in Jon’s arc. I also agree that Janos Slynt connects Jon and Sansa’s arcs (“Edd fetch me a block” makes me ~swoon~ every gd time lol). However, I don’t necessarily think that those two things are related or connected in any way, if that makes sense?

I’m going to attempt to explain myself, so hopefully it will…

Janos Slynt/Janus and Jon Snow

So yeah, it’s like you were saying, Janus in Roman mythology is a two-faced god. Here’s what he looks like for anyone who is wondering…

Janus is the god of beginnings and transitions, gates, doors, doorways, endings, and time. He is a two-faced god because he is supposed to be looking to the future and the past. I think Janus symbolism and Janos Slynt’s execution are really important because of when and how they occur in Jon’s arc:

Janos Slynt’s execution is the in same chapter as Maester Aemon’s famous line to Jon, “kill the boy and let the man be born.”

Janos Slynt’s execution is Jon’s first execution and his first major act as Lord Commander.

“You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.“ — Maester Aemon in ADwD (Jon II)

“Kill the boy and let the man be born” kind of becomes Jon Snow’s ~mantra~ for a while after this. To me this was always the beginning of Jon Snow’s transition from a boy to a man and being Lord Commander. It seems like the beginning of a new chapter in his life. So the transition and beginnings symbolism associated with Janus makes a lot of sense here. It’s like the two-faced god is looking backward at Jon’s past and forward at his future.

I suppose there could be a similar theme in Sansa’s arc associated with Janos Slynt and Ilyn Payne beheading Ned. Her father’s death marked the clear and tragic end of Sansa’s life as she knew it, and (understandably) lead to a great deal of disillusionment:

“Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted her his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.” — Sansa, ACoK

So I guess you could say that Janos Slynt was also associated with the end of Sansa’s childhood and one chapter of her life. But I think that connection and symbolism is much more prevalent within Jon’s arc in relation to Janos.

Janos Slynt and Jon/Sansa

So here are those two passages that send every Jon/Sansa shippers’ heart ~*a flutter*~

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes… — Sansa VI, AGoT

“I will not hang him,” said Jon. “Bring him here.” “Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out. The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Longclaw. — Jon II, ADwD

We already knew Jon was a hero. But here specifically, I think that this means he could be Sansa’s hero; and this is significant because Sansa no longer believes in heroes. First, Sansa has pretty much completely abandoned her beliefs in the Knights and Heroes in the songs and fairy tales of her youth, the type of knights and heroes men like Joffrey, Loras Tyrell, and Jaime Lannister were supposed to be. Secondly, her new view on what would be a “heroic act” is nothing like the jousting, hand kissing and flower tossing she used to be charmed by. In fact, her new ideas on what would be a heroic act are far more violent and gruesome, and actually pretty distinctly Northern.

Compare Sansa’s thoughts:

“Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head.” — Sansa VI, AGoT

to this line by Ned:

“Yet our way is the older way…we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.” — Ned Stark in AGoT (Bran I)

Ned’s beliefs in justice the “old way”/the Northern way are carried on by Robb:

Robb took the poleaxe from his hand and ordered him to step aside. “This is my work,” he said. “He dies at my word. He must die by my hand.”…“Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.” Robb lifted the heavy axe with both hands. “Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of murder and high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?” “Kill me, and be cursed. You are no king of mine.” The axe crashed down. Heavy and well-honed, it killed at a single blow, but it took three to sever the man’s head from his body, and by the time it was done both living and dead were drenched in blood. Robb flung the poleaxe down in disgust, and turned wordless to the heart tree. He stood shaking with his hands half-clenched and the rain running down his cheeks. Gods forgive him, Catelyn prayed in silence. He is only a boy, and he had no other choice. —AGoT, Catelyn III

And then, instead of hanging Slynt like he had originally intended, Jon Snow does pretty much exactly what Sansa wished some hero would do:

If Slynt did not wish to go to Greyguard as its commander, he could go as its cook. It will only be a matter of time until he deserts, then. And how many others will he take with him? “—and hang him,” Jon finished.…This is wrong, Jon thought. “Stop.” Emmett turned back, frowning. “My lord?” “I will not hang him,” said Jon. “Bring him here.” “Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out.The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Longclaw.…“This will go easier if you stay still,” Jon Snow promised him. “Move to avoid the cut, and you will still die, but your dying will be uglier. Stretch out your neck, my lord.” The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. “Please, my lord. Mercy. I’ll … I’ll go, I will, I …” No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended. — Jon II, ADwD

I’m not saying that this necessarily must have romantic significance, but I really do think it’s significant. Sansa has been pretty violently disabused of all of her romantic notions and beliefs that there are Heroes or Good Men left in this world. In some cases they were quite literally beaten out of her… Jon specifically did what Sansa wished and hoped a Hero and a Good Man would do. And he is the only character in the series that will have done that heroic act.

Jon Snow is “some hero.”

It honestly kind of reminds me of Sophie Turner’s quote about how in GoT S7 Jon will “restore Sansa’s faith in men.” If Sansa ever learns about how Jon beheaded Janos Slynt, it could help her believe in heroes again.

#warning: speculation and canon stuff below the cut! for anyone whose jam that is not!#asoiaf for ts #got for ts #jon x sansa #jonsa #also JON IS SANSA'S HERO PASS IT ON!!!#jon snow #sansa stark #janos slynt #janus #parallels #alys answers #long post #anonymous #foreshadowing #alys meta

77 notes · View notes

dybdahltravels · 6 years ago

Text

Bonjour from Casablanca, Morocco

March 18, 2019

Bonjour!! We arrived late last night in Casablanca Morocco or Maroc - as it is called by the people who live here. Anyway, it was quite an adventure on a very small and very old airplane - but we got here safe and sound. My gluten-free dinner was a banana and a kiwi - with no way to cut or peal the kiwi and no napkin - BUT both the banana and the kiwi were indeed gluten-free - so I’m not really complaining (much.) My biggest worry was about food - Mark’s was that the airplane was about 50 years old (Mark’s attempt at hyperbole) - but it was all good.

We had barely gotten off the plane when I received a phone call from our guide in Morocco, Zouhair Aarab He welcomed us to Morocco, got the name of our hotel, contacted the hotel to see if a shuttle was available then called me back. - sorry, no shuttle. Then he guided us through the airport to an ATM and to a cab - all on the phone. He told us how much the cab should cost and wished us well. He called again about a hour later just to make sure we were comfortable in our hotel and although he is really not our tour guide for another 2 days - encouraged me to call for ANYTHING - directions, restaurant suggestions, activities, history - anything that would be helpful. I like this guy already!!

The Moroccan Dirham is the currency of Morocco and $1.00 = 9.58 Dirham so in my mind 1 dirham is 10 cents. Move the decimal point - easy-peasy. But still when our guide said that the taxi ride would not exceed 650 dirhams - my brain freaked. The airport was an hour from our hotel - so $65 didn’t seem unreasonable but 650 dirhams - NO FREAKING WAY!! But I was tired and I expect things will get easier…. I hope. When we were getting the money from the ATM we had to pick the amount and when Mark picked 2,000 dirhams I thought he was nuts - but now - less tired - I think we will need more than $200 for the next month. Sigh…. The sign for a Dirham is DH, FYI and our cab ride cost 600 DH.

Although our taxi driver did not initially know where our hotel was - I stumbled on a gem of a hotel. But our taxi driver freaked me out - more than once. The first time was when I handed him the address of the hotel and he explained in French, that he didn’t have his glasses so he couldn’t read. (I’m thinking - AND MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T BE DRIVING EITHER!!!! ) But that wasn’t all - we are careening down the expressway, when suddenly he exits into nothingness. I think - THIS IS IT!! “Two tourists hijacked by a taxi driver and slaughtered for credit cards “- but being tired causes one’s mind to go a little crazy and he pointed to the expressway as we went over it - and all the traffic was completely stopped. He explained - in French - that we were going a different way to avoid the traffic problem (I think that is what he said - my French is a little shaky. But I know he didn’t say - Prepare to die dirty Americans and give me your credit cards - because I had been working on that sentence in French since we exited the expressway.) Phew! So it turned out that this guy was a great guy - friendly and willing to help me communicate in my crappy French. And the next thing I knew we pulled up in front of the hotel.

We are staying at a place called La Doge and when we walked in - we thought - oops - this is WAY over our pay grade - BUT I had already paid for it and it was reasonable and quite a bit cheaper than the place we are staying with our tour group beginning on Tuesday night.

We were welcomed and escorted to our room that had a welcome plate of fruit, chocolates on the pillows and beautiful fresh flowers. The name of our room is the Coco Chanel room - no number here. It is simply elegant. The walls are covered in padded fabric - every inch of the 12 feet tall walls. The entire building is Art Deco and we have furniture in our room - and in the entry room that leads into our “salle de bains” or our “chambre” (bathroom & bedroom) one would not see that in those hotel re-sale places. These are beautiful and unique pieces - highlighted by several pictures of Coco Chanel

Our bathroom is black marble with a very cool clawfoot bathtub (that is soooooo dangerously slippery - we can’t believe it) but beautiful. And of course we have a heated towel rack.

So in a place like this - can one possibly find anything to complain about? Why, yes I can! I happen to LOVE a top sheet and I have discovered that the top sheet is not well-loved or a "gotta-have” in many countries. Although after only one experience I cannot definitely conclude that the entire country does NOT love the top sheet - I can conclude that Le Doge is not a fan. Happily for us - I pack a sheet. So, all is well - but what is it with the no top sheet?

After a good nights rest and a very French "petite dejuener” (breakfast) in the breakfast room (pinkie up!!) we decided to take a walk to explore this new city.

Today is cloudy and that is the first day since we left Michigan than we had a cloudy day. Construction is everywhere - at least where we walked - and where they are not redoing the sidewalks or the roads - they should be. The city is noisy and dirty. This is NOT Tokyo - where you could NEVER find one teeny piece of trash. Horns are constantly honking and crossing the road is like taking your life in your hands. If you want to cross - just step out and cross. OMG!!!

One of the things we really loved about Santa Cruz de Tenerife was that many of the streets were pedestrian only. It is a great walking town. Walking here in Casablanca - at least in the area by our hotel - is a lot like Russian roulette - from my perspective. Pedestrians share the sidewalk with work trucks parked 2 deep, piles of gravel spilling into the streets and the sidewalks are packed with people who simply step around all this into the streets to join the sidewalks whenever they re-appear.

I am aware that Mark & I didn’t have a good idea of the area nor an agenda that had to be completed so we were just moseying and observing while everyone else was doing what they came to do. We did discover a HUGE skateboard park - but not much was happening there since it was a school day and mid morning. I’m guessing that sucker will be hopping later today.

The other observation I made was that Mark and I were ABSOLUTELY the only people with short sleeves. THE ONLY ones - despite the lovely warm weather. We saw lots and lots of people, but no short sleeves or shorts. We saw people in jeans and sweatshirts, in sweatpants and sweaters, some women wearing headscarves and others not. Some of the women wearing the headscarves or hijab - were in jeans and some had on an abaya which is a long loosely fitted garment that covers everything. We saw women wearing black niqab - the veil that covers everything except the eyes and the first woman I saw was also wearing a baby in a front pack as well. :) We saw women who have beautifully colored abayas and color coordinated hijabs and we saw women who apparently didn’t know matching things might be a good idea.

We saw gym shoes and stillettos, dress shoes and the traditional Arabic shoes - I’m not sure what they are called - but I bet I will know soon. But we did NOT see short sleeves. We also did not see anyone wearing a burqa - the wrap that covers everything and has netting over the eyes allowing the woman to see out - but preventing others from seeing in. I don’t know if we will see anyone wearing that - but we might - I have certainly seen women wearing it in Detroit. Anyway - we returned to our lovely room and it was Mark’s turn to wash our laundry in the lovely clawfoot tub. We have lines strung all over and we are just hanging out until we are ready to head out for a late lunch/early dinner giving me a chance to write. We will head out in an hour or so - but I will be wearing long sleeves and long pants. I’m a quick learner.

I read a little bit about the Moroccan Monarchy and discovered the King Mohammed VI was born in 1963 and has several college degrees including a PhD in Legal Studies. Additionally speaks Arabic, Berber, English, French, and Spanish. His family, the Alaouites, has been in power since 1664 despite the colonization by Spain and France. In 1956 Morocco became an independent country. HM (His Majesty) Mohammed VI has championed many reforms including ones that give women more rights - which makes sense to me - but has been greatly opposed by conservative Muslim groups. Life is not necessarily easy even if you are King, I guess.

We haven’t seen the Casablanca’s Medina (the ancient city) or the Suk (the market) but we will be doing that with our guide - if I don’t get run over trying to get there. Then - of course - there is Rick’s Cafe :) "Here’s looking at you, kid"

Stay tuned.

0 notes