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softrozene · 4 years ago

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Receiving a Hug from Their Crush

Anonymous requested: Hi my friend ! I hope all is well in your life ! can i please ask a little scenario for Rob Lucci, Kuzan and Killer who receive an unexpected hug from the person they secretly have a crush on ? how would they react ? make it as soft as possible and maybe a little nsfw if you want, thanks in advance 🤭

Mhm- I could not really see them acting “inappropriately” in this scenario so I just had them have a few inappropriate thoughts. Since these characters come off aloof, I had to give the Reader a “soft” personality- I do hope that is alright! Besides that, this so fluffy and came out longer than expected- I hope you enjoy this hon! I hope all is well in your life too anon!

Killer, Kuzan, Lucci x Reader (Gender Neutral/Nonbinary)

Warnings: Fluff- Suggestive thoughts, these characters are flustered. Uh, I know Killer is in the wano arc but I am not caught up to that so he may seem a little ooc since I am only using what I have seen from him in the Sabaody arc!

Words: 1673

Killer-

Killer felt great- His captain must feel greater. They after all made it into the New World. They feel unstoppable which of course is a bad thing, but one that they will bask in until they meet their match.

For now, Killer wanted nothing more but to continue to feel the excitement the crew is feeling. Even more so- Seeing that smile on your face. It has been a while since you joined their crew per Kid’s request (more like demand but hey, Kid knows when he sees talent).

So, it took a while for him to figure you out- Especially since you seemed so… Kind. It is normal to be kind to friends and the crew but even to strangers you were, and it threw him off. Once he found out you had no ulterior motive, he realized… He actually liked this soft personality.

It was a nice contrast to the mostly hostile personality the crew has to strangers. Though- It gave them all the need to protect your naivety. They did not mind at all but after a while for Killer- He realized that he had a crush on you.

It was weird for him, but it made him seek you out more out of anyone else in the crew. It turned out to be the right move because you understand him. His rather silent approach to people. You understood that and did not press him to talk to you unless he wanted to every now and then- Even then you were happy to carry the conversation.

You even made his meals after finding out he preferred noodles because of his mask. You took it upon yourself to make them- And it warmed his heart.

Because of this crush- Killer has experienced many new feelings, some of them more heated than others. For example, whenever you talked to him and leaned in further than what he is normally used to- He could not help his mind wander to the warmth your body created and how it would feel against his.

He longed for it but of course, it is just a crush. He knows better. He does not try to pursue these feelings either- Not wanting to get emotions involved or danger the crew.

That is the idea until you do something that makes his brain have a short-circuit.

Just one day after making him some dinner separate from the crew- You place the bowl of pasta down in front of him and proceeded to hug him. That… Sent a shock through his whole body. It was totally unexpected. After knowing you for a long while he did not take you as the touchy type and now that you actually hugged him, no matter how brief it was, he realized- He enjoyed it.

He enjoys your touch, and his mind wanders more. Screw logic- You are worth pursuing and he vows to make his feelings known.

Kuzan (Aokiji)-

“Why must you bother the new recruits?” Sengoku questions.

Kuzan yawns, completely not interested in this conversation. He is here for one sole reason instead of biking around the world, and it is because of you- Not the new recruits you are currently training. He sure did not mean to make them cry- He just pointed out how their forms were not useful unlike you who tried to encourage them to use whatever forms they liked as long as they followed the rest of your training.

“I will be on my way soon enough,” Kuzan murmurs.

Sengoku sighs knowing this is not going to go anywhere and neither is Kuzan. This happens too far often and all because Kuzan took an interest in a fellow marine. Completely inappropriate in Sengkou’s mind as the boss, but he allows it as long as it does not interfere with their marine work.

“It is (Name), isn’t it? Fine- Go ahead. I will tell them they are free of their duties but only for the night. These recruits need their basic training fully finished by the end of the week,” He mumbles giving in.

Kuzan just smiles at this. This is how it usually goes when he comes back to the marine headquarters. He longs to just either train with you one-on-one or steals you away- Or his personal favorite, take over the training session in an attempt to impress you.

However, he is not in the mood today. He longs just for a nap with your presence and then he can be on his way. It is easiest for everyone to let Kuzan spend time with you in order for him to get his work done. It could not be even more obvious to everyone too that he has a crush on you and yet you are the most oblivious person on the planet apparently.

Even when Kuzan fully flirts with you- You do not react to it. Not that he minds- He rather much enjoys your naïve and calm demeanor. It is refreshing among all these other marines who seek justice in a terrifying manner.

With permission, Kuzan goes back to the training grounds where he had earlier ruined your recruits’ concentration. The grounds are completely empty, and he waits a few minutes- Getting impatient, for you to return here with the good news of being dismissed for today.

He hears your footsteps and goes to greet you when he feels arms wrap around his mid-section. He raises an eyebrow at your unusual happy attitude. Usually, when he ruins one of your training sessions like he did today you would be grumpy but instead, you are hugging him?

Not only that but it makes his usual cold atmosphere soften. You are hugging him and… It feels nice.

Though the way you are squeezing him… He knows it is supposed to be loving but he can’t help the instant dirty thoughts and wonders of how your warmth could mix with his.

You pull back too soon, and he frowns.

“Kuzan, you need to stop ruining my training sessions. If you want to see me that is all you have to say,” You still manage to say in the gentlest voice ever despite the stern look you give him.

For once he fights off his perverse thoughts and just says in more of a demand. “Hug me again.”

You do not question him. Instead, you give him that brilliant smile before sliding your arms around him again. Yeah…

He can nap later.

Lucci Rob-

*First let me say this headcanon for Rob, he would 100% be touch-starved so in this situation, he would come to be a bit obsessed with hugs from his crush. Continuing on-

Lucci could not get any more annoyed with today. It has been exhausting and all he has been doing is paperwork from his last mission with CP9. He can’t wait until they can finally move to CP0. Then he won’t be stuck at Cipher Pol’s headquarters. He will not need to be pestered by the other member’s annoying behavior.

“Lucci-“

He nearly snaps at the voice, until he feels something wrap around him from behind. A head leans against his back and he just freezes.

“What is this- What are you doing?” He questions.

He already knows it is you- Their newest and definitely strongest (in his opinion) member. Somehow you captured Cipher Pol’s attention with your strength, but it did not match your personality. None of these missions do and he hated your guts at first- He saw you as weak and saw you merely as a distraction until he witnessed your strength when you trained with Kaku then him.

Your personality- He wanted to originally crush it. To form it into what he was raised to be- Merciless. It turned out you were also merciless but in a way that your target knows you do not want to torture them but will if you have to.

He hated that kind of person working here but, in the end- It was exactly what attracted him to you. He fought it off for so long but your everlasting kindness and the strength you showed to him eventually made him bring down his barrier. He allowed you to talk to him and he would give short curt replies in return.

That was all it was until he realized you even brought an animalistic side to him (he wants to believe that it is due to his devil-fruit and not the fact that he is still human).

So, hugging him like this and right now? It sets his skin aflame. He would want nothing more than to just devour you in acts of pure passion (and he will say hate) as he forgets about his stress but of course he can’t. Your relationship is definitely not that far along, and this is just a silly little crush he has.

“Sorry- Did I scare you? You looked upset so I thought you needed a hug. Even though our professions make us hard with our emotions- I like to think we all need hugs now and then. We are still very human despite our job. Wouldn’t you agree?” You ask… Still holding him.

He hates that he loves your touch and that- It really does seem to make this terribly long day better. He hates it but he will admit it.

“I do agree… Do you hug the others?” Lucci questions.

You finally pull back so you can look at him. That adorning smile that paints your face makes his heart ache in the best way possible. Especially when you answer. “No- You are the first one I felt comfortable doing that to. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No. I rather enjoyed it. I… Would appreciate it if you did it again in the future- However, I oppose you doing it to others,” He states.

You may have a too soft personality in his opinion, but you are not naïve. You definitely understood his possessive tones as you agree to it.

#my writing #one piece x reader #killer x reader #kuzan x reader #rob lucci x reader #one piece #fanfiction #scenario #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenarios #gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader #one piece killer #aokiji kuzan #rob lucci #fluff #slightly suggestive

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sooibian · 4 years ago

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Trespassing is Prohibited!

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader ft. Chanyeol

Genre: Fluff! Fluff! Fluff! Crack. Friends to Lovers AU, University AU (ish)

Description: Byun Baekhyun has had enough. He finally wants to ‘man up’ and make you his. But things continue to spiral out of control all thanks to his friend, philosopher, and guide (a.k.a. The Worst Wingman Ever) Park Chanyeol.

Warnings: A very rambly Baekhyun and a longwinding confession

Word Count: + 3k

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“You want me to talk about the weather?” Baekhyun squeaked into the phone after having breathed in helium from the blown up balloon in his hand.

“The weather, politics...the economy even.” Heaving slightly, Chanyeol spoke after a moment, his usual gruff and masculine voice reduced to a wafer thin high pitched squeal, sending Baekhyun into a fit of helium suffused giggles.

Taking another drag off of the balloon, Baekhyun warbled and piped, “Say...say that again. Say economy again!”

“Eco...econo-” Chanyeol’s extreme outburst of laughter at the sound of his own voice, rendered him unable to pronounce the final syllable.

All along, you stood at the door, comfortably leaning against its frame and eavesdropping on their conversation or the blatant lack thereof. Chanyeol suddenly wanted Baekhyun to talk about the weather, politics, and the economy? You thought you’d grown immune to your best friends’ antics but they continued to up the ante and left you baffled, amused, or both every single time.

You cleared your throat to catch Baekhyun’s attention but it fell on deaf ears. He rolled around in bed, breathing in helium, laughing hysterically, chanting the words ‘economy, weather, and politics’.

“BAEKHYUN!” You screamed at last. He scrambled to face you, wearing an expression of a deer caught in the headlights. You finally had the entirety of Baekhyun’s eight second attention span all to yourself.

“YAH! YAH! YAH! What are you doing here?” Baekhyun retaliated and then whispered something into his phone, stuffed it inside his pocket, straightened his shirt and sat primly on the edge of the bed like a child who’d been caught eating forbidden candy. He threw you an accusatory glance but there was an unmistakable hint of embarrassment and panic in his eyes.

Peering over your glasses, you snapped at him, “I’ve come to pick up my phone charger because you obviously lacked the courtesy to return it!”

“Oh!” His lips protruded into a pout and he tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought, “I’ll bring it over in the evening.”

“Why are you acting so….dazed and confused?” Slouching, you took careful, deliberate steps towards the bed and sat down next to him. Leaning into his frame, you sniffed his neck and whispered, “Are you...Baekhyun don’t tell me you’re on something!”

Levelling his face with yours, he searched your eyes before flicking your forehead in response to your wild allegation. “Shut up! The audacity! You’re the one barging into my house in the middle of the day. Trespassing is prohibited!”

Confused, you pulled away from him and asked, “What are you saying?”

The corners of his lips drooped. Brows knit together, he replied, “You should’ve called first!”

His extremely out of character standoffishness made you uncomfortable. You were clearly not interrupting anything other than a helium infused gala which, truth be told, you were greatly annoyed at not being invited to. Neither were you inconveniencing him in any way. You were to simply fetch the electronic device and head home. And this wasn’t anything out of character for you either. You’d always felt free to walk into his goshiwon as you did your own. Yet, here he was, dark hair unkempt, dressed in his usual baggy clothes, accusing you - his best friend, his emergency contact, the one he moved cities with for University, the only one who had the passcode to his goshiwon - of breaking and entering. You knew Baekhyun since the day you’d learnt to walk and in all these years he’d made you feel a lot of emotions - happiness, sadness, mostly anger but not once had he made you feel unwelcome.

Your heart sank to your stomach at this abrupt coldness.

“Baekhyun, you took my charger, remember? My phone died.” Fighting the lump in your throat, you explained politely and proceeded to rummage his desk drawers for the said item.

“Wait!” He came trotting after you barefooted as you dashed out of his room. He grabbed your wrist to hold you firmly in place.

While you were no stranger to physical contact with Baekhyun, these past three months since your break up had started to get increasingly excruciating for you. A slight brush of his hand with yours sent tingles through your skin, made your cheeks flame, your legs turned to jelly, and alarms blared inside your head. At first you thought it was just your hormones messing with you - he was an attractive man and you’d only recently been deprived of love and attention but you’d slowly begun to realize it was something far beyond that. Something you had an inherent knowledge of but were not quite ready to confront yet.

“I’m leaving.” You replied matter-of-factly. Yanking your hand free from his grasp, you didn’t bother to look at him. “Helium makes you stupid!” You yelled instead, and banged the main door shut behind you.

After a week of radio silence (though he was still clearly avoiding you at campus) Byun Baekhyun had finally started texting you again and you realized that he was now a changed man.

He'd gotten...boring.

Every morning he'd send you a no effort good morning text along with, lo and behold, weather updates! Bland messages ending with the same emoji. Mostly alternating between 'Good morning! Don't forget to wear a mask today, the fine dust level is scary! ☺️' and 'Good morning! Don't forget to carry an umbrella today, it might rain! ☺️'

You'd almost always reply with a disinterested 👍 but he remained undeterred.

Now it was as if Baekhyun and Chanyeol came as a package. The duo seemed to be joined at the hip and they walked in the opposite direction every time they caught you approaching them. Movements frantic, whispering in each other’s ears as if they were plotting to start a rebellion to overthrow the Government. But the Morning Daily from Baekhyun remained unchanged. Until one day, you snapped and replied with an emoji depicting another special digit used to indicate an entirely different sentiment from the sweet old 👍.

Later that evening you were dressed up for a double date set up by your classmate Jiwoo, your only “friend” other than Baekhyun and Chanyeol. She was to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friend who she thought was your type. Not looking for anything more than just a stress free and light evening, you decided to dress to the nines, let your hair down, and forget all about Baekhyun’s pigheadedness.

Dabbing on just a hint of blush along your cheekbones, you gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror. It was then that a familiar beeping reached your ears and you rushed out of your bedroom to greet the unexpected visitor with a snarky comment.

“Trespassing is prohibited!” Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at Baekhyun through your glasses. Dressed in a black hoodie, head covered in the Nike cap you’d gifted him for his birthday, twirling a pen between his fingers he just stood there, smiling sheepishly with a bag from your favourite desserts cafe in his other hand. It seemed like he’d come straight to yours after his lectures.

His gaze hesitantly roved over you and he questioned softly, “Going somewhere?”

Slinging a shoulder bag on, you averted your eyes and remarked, “It’s none of your business.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that”, he said with a soft chuckle yet his voice bore a hint of dejection and apology.

“That’s rich coming from you. Allow me to remind you how strange you and Chanyeol have been acting since the last two weeks!”

“I’m - I’m ready to..talk about it.” He quipped, awkwardly proceeding to put the box of desserts in the refrigerator. He then very comfortably took a seat at the kitchen table.

Hands on hips, you sauntered to the main door and shook your head, gesturing for him to leave. “Not today, Baek. I’m running late.”

He pulled back the chair next to his, and drummed his fingers on the table nervously. “Come sit. I won’t take too long. I promise.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you dragged your feet to the table and slumped into the chair.

“You look nice.” Lips stretched into a thin line, he stole a glance at you and said to his cuticles instead.

“BAEKHYUN!”

“Okay..okay sorry… so the day you came home?”

“Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Drawing out sentences in a question.”

Inhaling deeply, a slightly irate Baekhyun replied, “I’m trying okay.”

“Listen, first of all I am really annoyed at not being invited to that helium balloon call? So I’d advise you to think twice before saying anything stupid. Tell me...why did you two think it was a good idea -”

Embarrassed, he interrupted to get that part of the discussion out of the way. “Chanyeol and I just wanted to know what we sounded like… over the phone, you know? We sounded..err...squeakier.”

“Okay...I hate to say this but ...makes sense, I guess? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Because - ”

You leaned in closer, questioning eyes locked with his.

“Because -”

“Baek, I’m running late!”

“It’s because we were talking about you!”

“No? You were talking about politics -”

“Politics, weather and -”

‘The economy’ The two of you said in unison, face averted from each other to keep from laughing at the recent memory of Chanyeol’s oddly peculiar way of saying it.

“Yes..so Chanyeol and I were discussing how you probably don’t see me as a man? Like … a man man?”

Face scrunched into an expression of pure confusion, your mouth fell open to answer Baekhyun but no words came out. His lower lip had begun to wobble slightly and he rubbed his palms on his thighs before continuing. “He was of the opinion -”

“You’re literally the only one to ever pay heed to Loey’s opinions!”

“Yah! Don’t shit talk my Loey!”

“Yah! He’s my Loey too! Moving on”, pinching the bridge of your nose, you urged him to continue with a curt nod.

Baekhyun straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back and explained, “We had a thought.”

“Both of you? The same one?”

“Ye-yes?”

“This is not going to end well. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Can you stop acting like you’re better than us? Just for a moment?”

“Fine! Go ahead.”

“We thought that it was about time you started to see me that way.”

“That way?”

“The way you used to look at your greasy vermin of an ex?”

“With sheer contempt and disgust?”

“That was after. I mean like before.” Hands balled into fists, Baekhyun looked at your expectantly.

“I don’t get it.”

He gave you an exaggerated smile as if to centre himself before throwing more vague questions your way. “What is the one thing - the only thing - I can actually cook?”

“Haejangguk?”

“Exactly! Do you get it now?”

“I have a thousand of reasons ...or ideas as to how you and Chanyeol would manage to relate Haejangguk with politics, weather, and the economy but I’d rather not dive into that cesspool. Instead I’ll allow you to explain.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows shot up in concern as he explained softly, “Haejangguk helps with your hangovers. It took me fourteen tries to master! And it was Loey who ate every single spoilt batch. Without any complaints!”

“I wouldn’t say you’re any good at it even now but...sure whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you murmured.

Your phone chimed with a text from Jiwoo but before you could answer, Baekhyun snatched it from your hands and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Pay attention. This is more important than that loser you’re going to meet.”

“Baekhyun!”

“No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you go from one idiot to another.”

“I’ve literally only dated two guys! Why are you suddenly getting territorial?”

“I am not getting territorial! What I’m saying is… I spent these two weeks rehearsing the right thing to say to you but - screw that! And listen. You cannot do this anymore!”

“Do what?”

“You cannot waltz into my thoughts anytime you like! For instance I’m eating a tangerine, I think of how it would magically taste sweeter if I could only share it with you. Your face suddenly flashes before my eyes and I lose my mind while I’m doing the most mundane things like riding the subway or having a meal or talking to someone. I go grocery shopping and the first thing I pick up is strawberry milk and it’s not even my favourite! But I bought a whole damn carton because you love strawberry milk! I have cucumbers! Cucumbers! In my fridge because what if you crave oi muchim with your ramen some day and woe betide me if I DO NOT HAVE CUCUMBERS! I waste 4,050 Won every week on cucumbers but it DOES NOT MATTER because it would be nothing short of a tragedy if you want something and I can’t give it to you. Like, have you looked at yourself when you get upset? When your lips stretch into a thin line and your eyes ever so slightly lose their sparkle. It makes me want to pluck the bloody stars from the sky and lay them at your feet if it means that I can make you smile again. Do you know how warm you are? I mean, like, physically warm. Especially when you’ve woken up from a nap. So, so warm. I feel like wrapping you in my arms, putting your head on my chest and just...staying like that. Freezing the moment in time. Freezing the moment in time! Look at what you’ve done to me! I'm saying these cheesy things and I'm doing boring things like studying politics and understanding the state of affairs and keeping up with fine dust levels just so that you see me differently! So that I can somehow make you believe that you can rely on me. Think of me as more than just a friend who used to pull your pigtails back in the day.”

The beat of your heart boomed in your ears. You hugged your coat tighter around yourself as if to conceal its conspicuous sound. Your throat felt dry and your spine liquified in the face of his overwhelming confession. You had a million things to say to him. And there was one specific thing you were dying to do the moment your eyes landed on his soft, strawberry pink lips.

Eyebrow cocked, you said in a low whisper. “Why not buy a jar of oi muchim instead? It’ll surely last longer than a week.”

He buried his face in his hands and let out a shallow, pained wail and continued. “I'm done.” He looked up at you. Eyes droopy, lips pouty. “Put me out of my misery. Look, if you don't like me back the way I like you just ...forget that I said any of this. We can go back to being what we were at 7 o’clock. It's 7:30 now, we can rewind, 30 minutes. But don't...don't...what the hell how can you just sit there and act like you're watching a freaking movie. React! Say something! Actually...don't! Oh my god this is a trainwreck! I had rehearsed the right thing to say...but I got distracted by the indentations on the corners of your lips..I think I'm having a full blown breakdown… I just want to - ugh!"

"You just want to what, Baekhyunnie?"

You took his fists in your hands, eased them open and laced your fingers with his.

He clamped his eyes shut, slouched to make himself small, and muttered. "Don't call me that!"

Giggling softly, you repeated, "Baekhyunnie?"

Baekhyun flicked his eyes open. Unabashedly studying the curve of your lips, he whispered ‘Stop.’ His hand gently rested on your cheek, eyes seeking approval. You nodded in response, feeling your face flame. His honeyed gaze darkened as he leaned in closer, a sweet scent of bubblegum wafting in the space between you. His hand found the back of your neck, lips ever so slightly parted. Finding his movements excruciatingly slow you gravitated towards him while your breath hitched in your throat. He took your hand and placed it on his chest as his silken lips melted into yours. He held you like you were fragile, like he was experiencing the sensation of your skin on his for the very first time, committing every slight brush, every single touch to memory. You felt the wild hammering of his heart against your fingers despite the thickness of his cozy hoodie, your own reacting in likeliness.

Baekhyun held you by your shoulders and gently pulled away, breaking the most delectable first kiss you’d ever had. Tilting his head to the side he looked at you briefly before making vague hand gestures and shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself at a loss for words. Face flushed, he opened his mouth again after a while only to clamp it shut.

Byun Baekhyun was processing.

After having had your fun with his perplexity, you smiled at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly, prodding him to speak.

“So...does this mean we’re?” He asked, voice faintly tremulous.

Pursing your lips to stifle a giggle you teased, “Yeah?”

“Am I your...I mean...are you my….girl-girlfriend?” Averting his eyes from yours, he inquired, while shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

Half shrugging, you answered, “Depends.”

Baekhyun’s face fell. “Depends?!” He exclaimed, almost in falsetto.

"Depends on whether you want to continue sending me daily weather updates.” You deadpanned.

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Yes or no?”

“N-no?”

“Then, yes. Byun Baekhyun, congratulations, you’ve earned the unequivocal and irrevocable right to call me your girlfriend.”

“Does it mean that you didn’t like the new and improved version of me?” He asked hesitantly, face clouded over with caution.

“That wasn’t the Baekhyunnie I fell for.”

“Yah!” Surprised at your sudden blurry confession, his eyes grew into large brown circles but the moment his gaze met with yours, his expression softened again. He smiled sheepishly and spoke tenderly, “Okay...noted. You too can call me your”, he cleared his throat, took your hand in his, placed a soft kiss on it and used his most dulcet voice to say, “boyfriend.”

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A/N: hello, hello @you-did-well-moon hope you enjoyed this very cheesy confession from Baekhyun!

@exolssecretsanta

#exolssecretsanta20 #exosnet #exowritersnet #bbh-net #exo fanfic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fluff #baekhyun fluff #exo oneshot #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun #baekhyun oneshots #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun romance #exo romance #baekhyun imagines #exo imagines #baekhyun fanfiction

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suburbanbeatnik · 4 years ago

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Françoise de Bernardy’s Alexandre Walewski: The Polish son of Napoleon- the first chapter

If I went to the (long and tedious) effort of translating the first chapter of Françoise Bernardy’s 1976 biography of Alexandre Walewski, I figure you guys should see it too. Enjoy!

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MARCH 1810. Paris is moved by the preliminaries of Napoleon's marriage with Marie-Louise. In a few days, the archduke Charles has to marry in Vienna, in the name of the French Caesar, his yesterday's victor, the daughter of the German Caesars.

 At 2 rue du Houssaye, in the then aristocratic district of Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, a small hotel of elegant appearance. On March 10, at the end of the afternoon, the Emperor brought a cradle decorated with silver laurel. The room where the imperial gift is deposited is hung with light blue. On the wall is a beautiful portrait of a woman by Gerard: blonde, with beautiful eyes and a fine, gentle face. The mirror of the fireplace reflects the charming features. Near the Boucaut armchairs, a Martin varnished chiffonier, behind, half-folded, a large screen of Coromandel lacquer.

A heroic fighter in the last wars of Polish independence, Mathieu Laczynski, staroste of Gostyn, died young and desperate, leaving a widow and six children who can barely live off the mortgaged land of Kiernozia.

The years pass, aggravating the ruin. The four sons are valiant but weak, spendthrift, covered with debts, whether they work on the land or fight in the Polish legions in the service of France. Only one hope, a rich marriage for the oldest daughter, Marie, born in 1786, who is beautiful and good.

An almost septuagenarian but very noble neighbor, Count Anastasius Walewski, offers this rich marriage when Marie has just turned seventeen. At first, the young girl rejects the idea of a union with an old man, twice widowed, whose son Stanislaus is already a made man. But Mme. Laczynska urges her daughter. She knows that he has a warm heart and a devoted soul. Count Walewski is generous. If Mary sacrifices herself, he will secure the future of her brothers and sister. How to resist seventeen years? At the beginning of 1804 Marie became countess Walewska. In June 1805 she had a son, Antoine, a fragile, weak, viable child, who was taken over by the count's sister, Hedwige, an abusive spinster. She leaves behind a distraught young woman with a sad heart and empty arms. Only the sense of duty and a deep passion, which lifts her out of herself, the love of the country, sustain her. Marie lives on the hopes that the victories of the imperial France over Austria, Prussia, and Russia, the powers that once shared Poland.

This patriotism and these hopes brought Marie Walewska to meet Napoleon in Blonie on the road to Warsaw on December 31, 1806. In the weeks that followed, this patriotism and these hopes persuaded the young woman to become the mistress of the French emperor, first forced, then willing, then in love. In the spring of 1807, she lived with him in Finckenstein, where the warrior spent some quiet hours preparing for the Friedland campaign.

Unofficially separated from her old husband, Marie Walewska came to Paris at the beginning of 1808. She remained there until the Emperor's departure for Bayonne. If the fever of the senses has subsided between them, if the lovers are often and for a long time separated, nevertheless Napoleon remains attentive and Marie attached. And then there is always Poland, whose destiny once more seems to be played out during the campaign of 1809. In May, Marie writes to Napoleon, reminds him of his promises, offers to join him in Austria, and on May 18, from Schoenbrunn, which he is about to leave for his headquarters in Ebersdorf, the Emperor replies to the young woman.

"Marie, I have received your letter. I read it with the pleasure that your memory always inspires me. The feelings that you keep for me, I carry them with me.

"Come to Vienna, I wish to see you and give you new proofs of the tender friendship I have for you. You cannot doubt the value I place on everything that concerns you. A thousand tender kisses on your beautiful hands and one on your beautiful mouth. "

A month later, back at Schoenbrunn, on June 20, fifteen days before the battle of Wagram, the Emperor sent Marie an affectionate letter.

"Dear Marie, your letters have pleased me as always. I do not approve of your having followed the [Polish] army in Cracow, but I cannot blame you.

"The affairs of Poland are restored, and I understand the anxieties you have had ... I acted, it was better than to lavish consolation on you. You don't have to thank me, I love your country and I appreciate the merits of many of your people.

"It takes more than the capture of Vienna to bring the end of the campaign. When I have finished, I will move to be closer to you, my sweet friend, because I am anxious to see you again. If it is at Schoenbrunn, we will enjoy together the charm of its beautiful gardens and we will forget all these bad days.

"Have patience and keep faith. "N"

After Wagram, Countess Walewska moved to Moedling, a few miles from Vienna, and throughout the summer of 1809, while peace was being discussed, the Emperor came almost every day to spend the evening, the night - with Marie.

Slow, sweet weeks which, if they seem to consecrate the liaison by the expectation of a child, however, by precipitating the divorce, also prepare the rupture. Indeed, Marie wishes to return to France with the Emperor, but Napoleon, now assured that he can procreate, determined to separate from Josephine, does not want to. The presence of the young woman in Paris would disturb him as he prepares his second marriage. He asked the Countess to return to Poland and on October 13 - the Emperor left Vienna the next day - Marie took the road to Warsaw.

On December 18 - the divorce was pronounced on the 15th - from Trianon where he went to his departure from the Tuileries, Napoleon writes to the countess Walewska. How the tone has changed since the letters of May and June, and how the young woman must have suffered. It is no longer a lover, but the sovereign who speaks, only the concern for the child still shines through. "Madam, I received your letter. All that it contains touched me much. I was pleased to see that you arrived in Warsaw without any unpleasant accident. Take care of your health, which is very precious to me, and put away dark thoughts, the future should not worry you. Teach me that you are happy and content, that is my greatest desire."

Unconsciousness of men. It is almost in the same terms that the Emperor tries to console Josephine...

Happy? Happy? Marie is not happy while she is waiting for Napoleon's child so far away from him, while Caulaincourt seems to be about to sacrifice the Polish hopes in Saint-Petersburg... In 1807, prince Poniatowski asked countess Walewska not to reject the sovereign on whom the fate of Poland depends. In 1810, he probably asked Marie to come to Paris to defend the cause of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw and she agreed. Thus, she was in Paris at the beginning of 1810.

Marie Walewska looked sadly at the cradle. It is true that Napoleon welcomed her and spoke tenderly of the child she was carrying - a son, he had no doubt. But the young woman's heart is heavy. The Emperor had come the day before to bid her farewell. He would not see her again until she had given birth. What will Marie do? Stay in Paris? Retire to the country? To Warsaw? But can she return without the count's permission?

All of a sudden hurried footsteps, a panting courier. "A letter from Poland!"

The count's handwriting...

"Walewice, 21 February 1810

"Dear and honored wife,

"Walewice is more and more a burden to me, my age and state of health forbidding me any activity. I have come there for the last time, in order to sign the deed by which my eldest son acquires it.

"I advise you to come to an agreement with him about the formalities to be completed at the birth of the child you are expecting. They will be simplified if it is in Walewice that this Walewski is born.

"This is also his opinion, and that I write to you. I do so, conscious of fulfilling my duty, praying to God that he may have you in his care.

"Anastase Colonna Walewski".

Marie weeps with relief, with gratitude. Without wasting a minute, she claims her chaise de poste.

Poland is still under a blanket of snow when the Walewska princess arrives in Walewice. The young woman was pleased to see the long white house again, with its two wings covered by terraces and the triangular pedimented porch. This "colonial style" is surprising in the Polish plain: it is a memory of the veterans of the American War of Independence.

April soon brings its first greens, the buds burst in the woods. Marie Walewska takes long solitary walks. Her term is near. What will be the future of this child in whom Slavic and Latin blood are mixed? If it is a son, will he be a soldier, a diplomat? If it is a daughter, will she have fewer difficulties than her mother? What Marie wishes for her child is happiness...

On May 4, Countess Walewska gave birth to a son. At the end of his life Alexandre Walewski will write:

"My birth was accompanied by lightning and thunder, and it was predicted that my life would be stormy and even life-changing.

"To satisfy an old family prejudice, I was held at the font by two beggars, which was supposed to bring me luck... "

Three days pass, then on May 7 the priest of Walewice, acting as civil registrar, registers in the commune of Bielow that "Mgr Anastase de Walewski, staroste of Wareck, residing in Walewice, age of 73 years ", presented him "a child of the male sex, born in his palace on May 4 of the present year at four o'clock, by clarifying to us that he was born from his marriage with the lady Marie, nee de Laczynska, his wife . ... and that he intended to give her the following three names: Alexandre-Florian-Joseph. In view of this declaration, we have proceeded to the redaction of the birth certificate of the said child, in the presence of Mgr Stanislas de Walewski aged 30 years ... and of Mr. Joseph Ciekerski,doctor of medicine and surgeon deliverer ... which birth certificate was signed by us as well as by the above-mentioned and the required witnesses after reading made. "

Anastase Walewski thus fulfills all his duty towards a woman whose honesty and uprightness he appreciates. To this child who is nothing to him, he assures a name, a legitimate filiation, a heritage. This is a striking proof of the affection and esteem he has for Marie. Stanislaus Walewski is fully associated with this testimony by his presence in front of the priest of Walewice.

On his side the Emperor did not forget Marie.

On April 16 (1) he wrote to her:

"Madam, I receive with great pleasure your news, but the dark ideas that I see that you nourish do not suit you well. I do not want you to have any. Teach me soon that you have a beautiful boy, that your health is good and that you are cheerful. Never doubt the pleasure I will have in seeing you and the tender interest I take in what concerns you. Farewell Marie, I await with confidence your news."

(1) When it was published, this letter was dated February 16. This date hardly seems acceptable. First of all, it is clearly a reply to a distant person whom the Emperor will have "pleasure in seeing". Above all, Napoleon knew that the child was due at the beginning of May and he could not hope that he would be born "soon" - prematurely. Date of April, when the young woman withdrew to Walewice, this text takes on its full meaning.

Leaving a few days later for Belgium and Holland with Marie-Louise, he is informed by quick couriers and, as soon as he knows the birth of Alexandre, he sends for the child Brussels lace and twenty thousand gold francs, for the mother, a very special tribute if we think of Napoleon's admiration for the poet, the works of Corneille, printed in Rouen in 1648, in a beautiful binding by Trantz. Does the Emperor want to signify to Marie that she has the high and tender soul of a Chimene, that he remembers her faithful and generous love?

Napoleon called the young woman back to France on September 3. After thanking her for the news brought by her brother, Theodore Laczynski, he adds in effect: "If your health is well recovered, I desire that you come on the end of autumn to Paris where I desire very much to see you... "

An amicable agreement is then definitively reached between Marie and the count Walewski. The latter gives her a large part of his fortune and entrusts her with the custody of their son Antoine. In Paris Marie Walewska moves back to rue du Houssaye. The months pass. Marie lives far from the court, does not meet Napoleon who, all occupied with Marie-Louise, seems to be interested in the young woman and her son. Finally, in February 1811, the Emperor came to see little Alexandre. It is a beautiful blond child, but whose dark complexion recalls that of the Bonapartes. He has the round head of the Latins, the high and wide forehead of his father, his eyebrow, his mouth and his chin, but the eye does not have the deep blue of the Corsican, reflection of the Mediterranean, it does not have either the sparkle which had always to brighten in the imperial pupil, the brown eye of Alexandre is pleasant and merry. A second visit follows the first one, then it is the rupture, without clashes, without discussion, like a fruit that has reached maturity.

Napoleon, however, is very concerned about the material well-being of Countess Walewska, to whom Duroc brings ten thousand francs every month. Especially the future of his son. On the eve of leaving Paris for Russia, on May 5, 1812, he made the young woman come to the Tuileries and gave her a patent which instituted in favor of Alexandre a majorat of one hundred and seventy thousand pounds of income, with the title of count. The majorat is established on goods situated in the kingdom of Naples.

One evening in January 1813, Alexandre was awakened with a start. Dressed in a hurry, he was taken to his mother.

"Two elderly men were with him, one of whom took me on his lap and kissed me. His physiognomy made a deep impression on me; it was certainly the first memory of his life."

The Emperor's solicitude for his Polish son did not waver. In the middle of the dark hours of the French campaign, fearing that Murat would confiscate the first endowment, he charged his treasurer general, M. de La Bouillerie, to establish a new majorat of fifty thousand pounds of rent on the canals for the young Walewski; he also had a hotel at 48, rue de la Vicioire, bought in the name of Alexandre for 137,500 francs, of which Marie was the usufructuary (1).

Come the great reverses. In the defeated Emperor, abandoned by his former companions, Marie Walewska sees only the man who has loved her, whom she has loved. She runs to Fontainebleau and is announced. Napoleon, absorbed, does not see her again immediately, and then does not think about her anymore. Weary of body and soul, he looks for oblivion and rest in poison, but does not find it.

All night long, in an anteroom, Marie waits for him to call her. In the morning, she finally goes away, discreet, fearing to be unwelcome. The Emperor learns a few hours later of her apparent negligence. "The poor woman," he murmured, "will think she has been forgotten," and on April 16 he was anxious to reassure her. "Marie, I have received your letter of the 15th, the feelings that you have expressed touch me deeply. They are worthy of your beautiful soul and the goodness of your heart. When you have arranged your affairs, if you want to go to the waters of Lucca or Pisa, I will see you with great and lively interest, as well as your son for whom my feelings are invariable. Be well, think of me with pleasure and never doubt me.”

(1) On February 4, from Nogent, he writes in his own hand to La Bouillerie: "I have received your letter relative to young Walewski. I leave you carte blanche. Do what is convenient but do it immediately. What interests me is above all the child, the mother afterwards." A judgment of the court of the Seine, of April 4, 1818, will authorize the tutor of the "minor" Walewski it to sell the hotel of the rue de la Victoire and it to replace the funds produced by this sale in the purchase of Walewice of which Stanislas Walewski wants to get rid.

In August 1814 Marie Walewska travels to Italy with her son, her sister Emilie and her brother Theodore. The Emperor encouraged her again on August 9:

"Marie, I have received your letter, I have spoken to your brother. Go to Naples to arrange your affairs. On my way there or on my way back, I will see you with the interest you have always inspired in me, and the little one of whom I hear so much good news that I am truly happy and will be happy to embrace him. Farewell, Madame, a hundred tender things.”

On September 1 Marie arrived on the island of Elba with her son, Emilie and Theodore. Immediately a rumor spread among the population and the small garrison: Marie-Louise and the King of Rome had just arrived. The good people are mistaken. The Viennese woman of light soul and weak flesh is in Aix, already all in Neipperg.

Is Napoleon going to retain Marie who has come to offer him her life? Certainly he is moved to find her always so faithful and so generous. But the Emperor thinks first of the Empress, first of the King of Rome, and he fears that Marie-Louise, warned of the coming of the Polish girl, will take the pretext not to join him. Surprisingly, does he not guess that the choice is already made?

In any case, he receives Marie Walewska in a half-mystery, at the hermitage of the Madonna.

Leaving the countess the three rooms of the little house, Napoleon settles for the night in a tent under the chestnut trees. When he came out in the morning, he found Alexandre playing. He called him, sat down on a chair, took the child in his lap, then sent for Foureau de Beauregard, the doctor who had followed him to Elba, and the latter wrote to Alexandre Walewski on June 22, 1843: "You are that pretty little Alexandre that I saw, almost twenty-nine years ago, on the Emperor's lap near the Madonna delle Grazie on the island of Elba.”

“The Emperor wanted the child, who had no youngster with him, to be there," says Marchand. The Emperor placed Mme. Walewska's son next to him, he was very good at first, but it didn't last long and, as his mother reproached him, the Emperor said to him: "So you are not afraid of the whip? Well! I urge you to fear it; I have only received it once and I have always remembered it." Napoleon then tells how one day when he had mocked his grandmother's clumsy walk, Madame Mere had firmly corrected him. "The child had listened with the greatest attention, the Emperor said to him: 'Well, what do you say to that?’— ‘But I don't make fun of Mama,' he said with a little air of contrition which pleased the Emperor, who kissed him and said: 'That's well answered.’"

Rare picture of Napoleon with his Polish son.

That same evening, September 2, Marie Walewska took the road to Naples again in small steps. The endowment of Alexandre, confiscated on September 15 with all the other French endowments of the kingdom of Naples, is restored on November 30. Perhaps on the intervention of Caroline, who always liked Marie Walewska? Perhaps Murat had some shame to add a meanness to his betrayals? In any case the Emperor was satisfied and he told the King of Naples on February 17, 1815, adding: "I recommend her to you and especially her son who is very dear to me. "She came to Paris in the spring of 1838 and was ‘touched by the assiduous care’ that Walewski gave her during her stay. Caroline Murat wrote to him on November 23: "I am sending you the letter from the Emperor that I had promised you; you will see in it the proofs of the affection that he had for you... "

The countess Walewska lingers in Naples. Alexandre will keep a vague but pleasant memory of this stay, of the toys that he received there. At the beginning of 1815 the mother and the child embarked for France. Caught by a corsair, they escaped him in great difficulty.

Marie learned of the death of the count in Walewice on January 18, 1815. Now that she is free, what will she do with her life? To marry General d'Ornano, who has been courting her for a long time and for whom she has a deep inclination? Perhaps... She has hardly had time to decide when on March 1, 1815 Napoleon lands in Golfe-Juan.

It is the prestigious return, the intoxicating reception of Paris, the feverish days of work. Before the departure for the plains of Flanders where the imperial eagle will fall, Marie, always faithful heart, goes to the Elysee with her son. Alexandre found the visitor from the rue du Houssaye at the palace. He wears, as on the island of Elba, a blue uniform with a white lapel. "He told my mother that he was going to leave for a campaign. He asks me if I want to go with him. My mother refused. ‘Well madam, I will take him by force.’” These words still ring in my ears. "

Waterloo, the second abdication, the halt at Malmaison. Marie once again comes to the Emperor. So many bonds united them, gratitude for the resurrected Poland, and then love, and then the child. Without a doubt, she is ready to accompany him in this exile from which Napoleon's immense weariness, after a life so full and so ardent, awaits rest. But he does not accept, happiness is no longer for him, he enters the legend.

Despite the clear light of this beautiful summer day, everything is sad and gloomy on this June 26 and Malmaison is a kingdom of shadows: shadow of Josephine, unfaithful and charming, shadow of Duroc and Bessieres, shadow of the madman Junot, shadow of the absent ones too, Eugene, Murat, the companions of glory and youth, shadow of Talleyrand and Fouche who betrayed him, shadow above all of this young consul who took France in his arms and with a sincere effort straightened it.

Marie and the Emperor speak at length. Alexandre, serious and silent, listens to them without understanding. The countess is crying softly, she would like to retain Napoleon, to persuade him not to abandon himself to destiny. It is a vain effort, the Emperor does not hear her, nor does he hear Hortense. Marie finally decides to leave and Napoleon leans over to the child and gives him a long kiss. Later the man made, the wall man who became ambassador, then minister of the resurrected empire, will remember that he thought he saw a tear running down the cheek of the defeated of Waterloo.

Three more days the slow agony continues, three more days Marie returns to Malmaison and on June 29 she will be among the last faithful who, on the threshold of the house, will see the Emperor sinking with a firm step into the park, crossing the small gate, will hear the door of the heavy car slamming while the bells of the church of Rueil ring...

* * *

A long year... Europe catches its breath, gets used to the absence of the man who for fifteen years has dominated it and who disappeared at the bottom of the Atlantic.

On September 7, 1816 Marie Walewska married Ornano, who had been exiled by the Restoration, in St. Gudula in Brussels. Antoine and Alexandre Walewski stayed in Paris. Under the guidance of M. Carite, a friend on whom the countess entrusted the education of her children, and of an old valet, Andre, the two little ones join the Ornanos at the waters of Chaudfontaine near Liege. The new household moved soon after to Liege itself, in a charming house on rue Mandeville, today rue de la Fragnee. On June 9, 1817, a son, Rodolphe, was born. After his release from exile, Ornano returned to Paris with his wife in October 1817, but Marie died soon after, on December 11.

In her will Madame d'Ornano entrusted the guardianship of her Polish sons to her brother Theodore Laczynski, who was in Paris at the time. "He will have to report frequently to my dear husband on the state of Alexandre's health, to take his advice when this child will be of school age. Place him in a school where his father-in-law will be able to go and visit him sometimes and supervise his education... "

Laczynski takes the two orphans to Kiernozia in Poland. Alexandre likes this quiet and patriarchal life. Memories of the imperial era haunt the house. In the evening, Antoine and Alexandre linger in the living room. Theodore Laczvnski takes the lead in the conversation, he talks about the French Revolution, Paris, the imperial campaigns, especially about the Emperor. As Duroc's aide-de-camp, the Pole often approached Napoleon. The children, with bright eyes, listen "with indefinable interest". Laczynski's dream is to go to Saint Helena, to take his wards there...

After a few happy months in the country, Theodore Laczynski decides to settle in Warsaw and gives the children whose education cannot be neglected any longer a tutor. A strange choice. The times decidedly wanted it. While Queen Hortense entrusted Louis-Napoleon to the son of the conventionnel Le Bas, the young Walewskis, in their snows, were given to a certain Muller, a "philosopher teacher" as he called himself, of a very advanced republicanism. Laczynski quickly separates from the astonishing character and, in order to restore the balance, his pupils spend half a year in a Jesuit college in Warsaw, where Alexandre makes his first communion. Then they left for Geneva in 1820.

Napoleon's son stayed there for four years. After a happy, pampered life with the gentle and tender woman who was his mother, the child had two more easy years. Now here he is, thrown alone - his brother Antoine is leaving him soon (1) - in a new, even hostile environment, in a foreign city whose Protestant austerity must have clashed with the Catholic heredity of this Pole with Latin roots. And yet, as he himself wrote, it was from this period that his spiritual life began. The city of Calvin suits this calm, somewhat soft temperament. No flashes of anger or outbursts. Order, measure, a certain fundamental rigidity. In Geneva, one day in the summer of 1821, the child of Wagram, the one who prayed for the Emperor because he was his father, learns of the death of the captive of Saint Helena.

(1)Recalled probably by the tsar. Antoine Walewski died young, without children from his marriage to Constance Grotowska.

No trace in the memories of the imprisoned man of what he thought, felt... Did he ever know, except by the cold instructions to the executors of his will, that Napoleon, although absorbed by the concern for his imperial son, nevertheless thought of his Polish son, recommended him to Bertrand, expressed the wish that he enter a regiment of lancers, and above all that he become a Frenchman. "He is really of my blood, and that is also something."

Alexandre Walewski is a boarder at the Academy's rector's house, which receives about twenty young people. His lavish lifestyle, the apartment, the governor, the servant, attracted jealousy and bullying. In spite of his young age, Alexandre decides to avoid a situation which, if it goes on too long, will become painful. He gets the governor recalled, keeps the servant but puts him at the service of the community. He has easy money - his hands will always be wide open -, he lends to his comrades and shows himself to be generous. He is a serious, authoritarian boy, aware of his importance. The traits of his character, which we will find again during his life, are already marked: he is honest, upright, but he is neither cheerful nor fanciful. He evokes his life in Geneva as follows: "I was at twelve very tall for my age, and I considered myself a young man; so much so that I was already going a little into the world, to balls, to little parties... I stayed in Geneva for four years. I left Geneva on an order from the emperor of Russia."

* * *

On his return to Poland in 1824, Alexandre Walewski was emancipated by his tutor. He settled in Walewice, where he led a stately life. Princess Jablonowska, a sexagenarian cousin who had once been the friend and confidante of Maria Walewska, helped him to entertain. The house of the young man, of this so young man, is soon to be very sought after.

Precocious from a worldly point of view, Alexandre Walewski is also precocious with women. The Latin blood is hot, the Slavic blood as well. Judging by what he wrote in the first draft of his memoirs, shortly after his arrival in Walewice, Alexandre had an affair. He had an affair with a "vulgar girl" that left him feeling disgusted and that would keep him away from such promiscuity in the future. The numerous women who will mark out his life will be from now on women of talent or: women of quality.

On December 22, 1825, Alexandre sends to the General d'Ornano his wishes for the new year. This letter, green, charming, which confirms the impression of maturity of a boy who is not sixteen years old, also reveals the affectionate feelings that he feels for his stepfather.

“It is nearly three months since I wrote to you and many things have happened since I took possession of my land in Walewice. First of all, the castle was repaired, which was in great need of it, and then my good cousin wanted the whole region to hear, with loud trumpeting, that I had become its lord. More than a hundred people did us the honor of attending the magnificent ball that she gave. It was very cold outside, but fortunately there was no snow that night. I was celebrated and saw people from the past whom I pretended to recognize and who were charmed by it. The dowagers even kissed me, but not the young girls, which would have pleased me more. I made up for it by dancing with several of them.

"I must confess also that I fell several times into the sin of pride. I don't know who said anything about my academic successes, but I have been in the hot seat and have been made to take part in political, diplomatic, literary, and I don't know what else conversations. How many compliments have I heard about my intelligence, my reason, the power of my arguments, etc., etc., etc.? And then I noticed that the girls preferred me to many other dancers. As the lessons given to me were profitable, I remembered that it was especially necessary to court ladies of canonical age and they brought back to me very flattering appreciations on my modest person, expressed by exquisite mouths...

"General Zayonczek is one of my most frequent visitors... He rambles a little, but this does not affect his memory. He remembers very well all that happened in Warsaw when the Emperor came there before the battle of Eylau... He is very popular with the great Duke and even with the Czar's court. Some people criticize him, but I think it is good that we have our great men in favor. It can only be useful for us...

"We will reopen the Warsaw hotel in a few days. Ah! if we could see you there!

"Your tender and respectful Alexandre. "

Son of the patriot Marie Walewska, son of the Emperor, Alexandre attracts Polish hopes. He would gladly be taken as a standard bearer. Grand Duke Constantine, the skillful and often benevolent governor of the kingdom, wanted to neutralize him. He offers him to join the Russian army, to become his aide-de-camp. The young man "stubbornly" refused. He was put under police surveillance and told to leave the country. Tsar Alexandre had once recommended that Napoleon's Polish son should never be allowed to go to France: his brother remembered this.

Alexandre decides to escape. With a passport obtained at a high price, he goes to St. Petersburg and hides there, waiting for a favorable opportunity to gain more free land. He learns that the police are looking for him to bring him back to Warsaw where his fate will be decided. Four hundred leagues on foot, a probable prison do not tempt the Pole. He had to escape at all costs. He reached Kronstadt and boarded a steamer bound for England. The police have found his trail, and they launch an armed barge in pursuit of him, ordering him to stop: inadvertently or unwillingly, the captain does not obey the summons and, thanks to his superior speed, makes it to the open sea.

* * *

In London, Walewski received an enthusiastic welcome from the elegant society, the opposition. The Whigs, that is, the Liberals, have always regretted the treatment of the Emperor, and Lord Holland has protested in the House of Lords against the conditions of captivity. With Napoleon gone, the regrets became remorse...

In spite of the attentions of which he is the object, the young man does not linger in England. He will return there with pleasure and in 1828 he will spend several months: summer, autumn, making a long stay in Chatworth at the Duke of Devonshire, the most prominent of the great Whig lords. But it is in Paris that Walewski intends to settle down. He arrived there in the autumn of 1827. He found his father-in-law, with him Flahaut, Sebastiani, Gerard, veterans of the time. The salons of the Faubourg Saint Honore, of liberal tendency, receive him with great pleasure. He is charming at his entrance in the Parisian world, this young Walewski. Slim, slender, elegant, he has beautiful dark eyes and a dreamy smile. His slight accent adds to his charm when he courts a woman, and he waltzes divinely - like a Slav.

And then, isn't he called the natural son of Man? The Marechal de Castellane notes on November 1, 1827: "At Mme de Flahaut's, I saw for the first time a young M. Walewski, son of Mme Walewska and of the Emperor Napoleon. He has the eyes, the sound of his father's voice, he is taller than him and very well turned out (1)."

(1) Many years later Walewski pronounced the eulogy of the count of Rayneval. An old general of the Empire suddenly begins to cry. "I attended the farewell that the Emperor made to his guard at Fontainebleau and I just heard the sound of his voice.”

What is more surprising, the faubourg Saint-Germain, stronghold of the ultras, is infatuated with Walewski who becomes the darling of the "ultra-duchesses" according to Lady Morgan. Haussonville on his side confirms it to us. "The debuts of Count Walewski took place, singularly enough, under the auspices of what is most exclusive and purest in the aristocratic society of Paris. It was as if it were a watchword among the most sought-after ladies of the Faubourg Saint-Germain to give the most benevolent welcome to the young man whose features were strikingly reminiscent, but with a pleasant and gentle physiognomy, of those of a famous mask. The first of these was the one who was to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be of a man who was not a man of the world. He let the most haughtiest women, those who were about to consider themselves the prettiest or the wittiest, put themselves to the expense for him, either of brilliant toilet or of beautiful spirit, each one according to the means of seduction which suited her best. Thus, every evening in the fashionable salons, there was a real race to the bell tower between a learned marquise... who affected to speak to each ambassador the language of her country and a beautiful duchess [it seems to be the duchess de Guiche] who was then in Paris the type of the sovereign elegance. Between these ladies the bets were open and the chances seemed doubtful, Walewski taking care to share equally between them his discreet attentions...”

A cloud rises however on the horizon. Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian ambassador, a Corsican who had been in the service of the tsar, pursued with a Corsican hatred all that was Bonaparte. He asks for the extradition of Walewski, this "rebel, fugitive from the Russian Empire". By order of Charles X, who doesn't like Pozzo, Villele, on the eve of leaving the ministry, refuses it. Walewski could stay in France on condition that he avoided official circles and made himself forgotten.

Life is very pleasant in these last years of the Restoration. Lady Blessington has left us a pleasant picture of the society of the time. The manners are ceremonious and the young people surround the old women with delicate attentions, whether it is a flattering silence when the beautiful ones of the past are remembered or a lively eagerness to render them small services: handkerchief, bouquet or fan picked up, shawl placed on cold shoulders. France is the paradise of old women, especially if they are witty, England is the purgatory, says the Englishwoman without ambiguity. The amorous intrigues are discreet, hidden from the public, and those whose affair is best known affect the most reserved manners. Hypocrisy perhaps, but the Parisian world takes on an air of dignity and decency.

Once a week, the women of quality open their salons to a circle of intimates who meet like-minded people every evening in a friendly house. Small closed coteries, where strangers are not admitted. For them, balls, dinners and parties in full dress. For the regulars, the amiable negligence of the half-clothes and the free, unceremonial chat. “Yesterday I went to a small party at Madame de Jumilhac's [a sister of the Duke of Richelieu] where Walewski served as my introducer," said the Pole Andre Kosmian on November 7, 1829. “Without being rich, she received three times a week the flower of the Parisian world. Her small salon is only open to ten or twelve people at a time. It is very difficult to be admitted. I owed this favor to Walewski who is the gate child of these ladies."

Walewski likes this refined society as much as he likes it. He is linked with the due de Chartres. They are tall, one dark, the other blond, they look alike and for three winters they never leave each other. Walewski also met Thiers at Madame de Flahaut's house: their friendship will never be denied. He finally met Morny, the son of Flahaut and Queen Hortense. "They are both of distinguished and graceful manners, without support, gifted with an air as it should be which is in them as a native gift... "

Lady Blessington, a very good judge, noted in 1829: "The more I see Count Walewski, the more I like him. He has the spirit, intuition and perfect manners. I have always considered it a good sign for a young man to like the society of old people and Count Walewski marks the preference for men of age to be his father."

When the count d'Orsay and the due de Guiche create in 1828 the circle of the Union, Walewski joins one of the first. He found there many Englishmen, Lord Granville, the English ambassador who had married a sister of the Duke of Devonshire and whose son was to be a minister in 1852. Caradoc, the future opponent of Walewski in La Plata, Normanby. He also met Talleyrand... There is a lot of talk about horses, it is a passion of the time and also a fashion. The races begin to be very popular at the Champ-de-Mars and at the Bois de Boulogne. Walewski goes there with assiduity. He runs and plays...

“In the meantime, I attended horse races for the first time in my life," Kosmian said in November 1829. Unfortunately, they ended in a way that was unpleasant for Walewski, because Walewski was always doing crazy things, throwing money out of the window. In England and here in Paris, he lost at cards up to a hundred thousand francs. Having stopped on the slope, he no longer plays cards, but, which amounts to the same thing, he plays at the races. There is a very rich Englishman here, Lord Seymour [Milord l'Arsouille], who lives only for horses and for whom betting on races is a passion. He is the one who is constantly pestering poor Walewski. Last Saturday, they had only two, each on his own horse. Walewski rode an English racehorse; Seymour a hunting horse; but Walewski had to carry sixty pounds more! Everyone who knew anything about racing said in advance that Walewski was making a fool of himself and that he would lose. He wouldn't listen to anyone - and lost. The stake was five thousand francs. He has seventy-five thousand pounds of income; what a comfortable and pleasant life he could lead. Perfectly well seen in the world, universally loved... But one has to tell him the truth... he doesn't want to hear anything until now. It is a great pity because what a good and noble nature it is and of how much pleasure in society ... "

The year 1829 had been cheerful, the beginning of the year 1830 is not less. On February 9 a great masked ball was organized by Mrs. Alexandre de Girardin in the concert hall of the rue Taitbout. Mme. Alfred de Noailles intrigues during one hour Rodolphe Apponyi, the king of the cotillion leaders; on the other hand, he recognizes at first sight the princess of Lieven and both of them go in the box of Walewski so that they intrigue their turn.

Alexandre is twenty years old on May 4, 1830. He is a man. Will he continue to waste his life in frivolity, thinking only of the world, of women, of races, of gambling? Does he forget the hopes cherished by his mother, does he remember that his father wanted him to be a soldier? Will he, who is free, get bogged down in the pleasures of Paris like the Duke of Reichstadt, he who is a prisoner, in the soft life of Austria? Will the sons of Napoleon be only dandies?

Walewski was a calm observer of the Three Glorious Years, and the return of the tricolor flag, which his father had flown in Vienna, Berlin and Moscow, did not arouse any echo in him. Polish by mother, Polish by heart, Polish by nationality if not by language (1), only the tocsin of Warsaw is going to move him, to awaken him suddenly.

(1) Walewski was not fluent in Polish. Joseph Tanski tells that when he came to London in 1854 to talk to the ambassador about projects he did not wish to see revealed, he offered to speak Polish to Walewski, the valet being present in the room. The latter refused, admitting that he could not sustain the conversation.

#alexandre walewski #marie walewska #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #polish history #francoise bernardy #long post #translation #joachim murat #caroline bonaparte #d'ornano

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“Is that drawer still available?”

namjoon x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 3.8K

a/n: Hi lovelies! This is what takes place after Joon and Daisy have their fight (sort of fight?) in “The strings are attached already.” We start with Joon’s perspective of things before moving back into Daisy’s mind. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Oh, also, this features a bit of Yoongi, coming in clutch with some subtle-ish advice.

p.s. this also fulfills a prompt request by @bulletproof-eternally (hi love) from ages ago: “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers. Like Romeo and Juliet, but without the ending.”

THE beat sounding from Yoongi’s monitor was hardly even registering in Namjoon’s mind with you filling every corner of it, taking over each one of his thoughts.

Staring at the screen mindlessly, he didn’t recognize Yoongi’s voice calling for his attention until at least the fifth time the older man spoke, “Namjoon.” Eyes snapping to his work partner, Yoongi shrugged. “What do you think?”

Running his hand over his face, Namjoon sighed. “Play it again.” Without asking the questions that were present in his mind, Yoongi simply restarted the instrumental.

As the beat played on, Yoongi interjected thoughts such as, “this is where you could do your verse,” and “I’m thinking a pre-chorus by Jin and Tae here.” But at receiving no response, Yoongi paused the music and turned to Namjoon. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

“Huh?” Namjoon asked in surprise. “Nothing, I just- I’m gonna get a coffee.” Yoongi huffed, sitting back in his chair as he stared at the monitor, the unfinished beat with an impending deadline putting him on edge. “Do you want-” Namjoon started to offer as he began to stand up, but slamming his knee of Yoongi’s desk sent him right back in the chair. “Fuck!”

Yoongi looked at his younger member in concern, not sure what to do for the man. “You ok?”

“I’m fine,” Namjoon said dismissively and shortly.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Yoongi retorted disbelievingly. Placing a hand to the younger man’s shoulder to keep him seated, Yoongi stood and walked toward the exit. “I’ll get the coffee,” he said just before slipping through the door.

Namjoon needed to get his head on straight. Replace the relationship problems from his nonexistent relationship with concerns of work. That’s what he needed to do.

But when Yoongi returned with the coffee, and Namjoon proceeded to spill the hot liquid over his own hand, he realized removing you from his thoughts would be an impossible task. He was distracted by you and the look on your face as you tried to hold back tears. Even if they were of your own doing, they hurt him to see.

“Ok, what the hell is wrong with you today?” Yoongi asked, beyond annoyed by his friend’s lack of focus.

“Nothing, I just need to reel my thoughts in,” Namjoon told him, trying to avoid a conversation about you with his band member who hardly knew you were a concern to be had.

“Maybe it would help to talk about it,” Yoongi suggested, feigning disinterest as he took a sip of his coffee. When Namjoon scoffed, Yoongi simply shrugged. “We’re not getting any work done anyway so,” the man said, cutting himself off as he awaited Namjoon’s next words.

“What are you meant to do when you’re seeing someone and want to make things more exclusive and official but they’re resisting?” Namjoon asked, embarrassment spreading across his cheeks in a light pink tint.

However, Namjoon didn’t realize how close the question would hit Yoongi, the older man clearing his throat as he sat up, setting his coffee down. “Uh, why do you ask?” The two guys sat in silence for a moment, Namjoon giving Yoongi a look as if to say, you know why. “So I met the reason last week,” Yoongi realized, Namjoon nodding. “It’s safe to assume you two aren’t just friends then?” Yoongi asked dumbly, Namjoon letting out a single laugh.

“Uh, yeah,” Namjoon breathed out. “Haven’t been since the first night.”

“Right,” Yoongi nodded awkwardly, acting as though he didn’t already know you and Namjoon were fucking around. “So you want to be more and she doesn’t?”

“Yup,” Namjoon nodded, staring in front of him at the beat displayed on the screen. “Maybe I deserve it.”

“What?” Yoongi asked, eyebrows pulled together in question at the ridiculous statement. “What are you on about?”

“I just think- Maybe she’s too good for me,” Namjoon said, rather pathetically in Yoongi’s opinion. However, the look on his face showed the older man that Namjoon was in serious doubt about his own worth.

“That’s ridiculous, you’re great,” Yoongi told the man bluntly, Namjoon looking toward his friend but avoiding his gaze. “Look, I don’t know her all that well yet, but it was obvious to every single person in the dorm last week that she likes you as much as you like her.”

“Well, I mean, that’s how it feels sometimes but then why won’t she be with me?” Namjoon asked in frustration. “She’s so confusing.”

“She is with you,” Yoongi pointed out to Namjoon with a sense of understanding. “It’s just the label that’s scaring her.”

“Scaring her?” Namjoon asked, not having totally thought of that possible conclusion himself. He knew you were holding yourself back, but he assumed it had to do him and his worthiness.

“She’s probably scared of committing for whatever reason,” Yoongi shrugged. “And it’s probably not related to you. If it is it’s probably because she doesn’t feel deserving or something, I don’t know.”

Pulling his eyebrows together in curiosity, Namjoon met his older member’s eyes. “How do you know this?”

“Experience,” Yoongi said simply before grabbing the mouse and clicking something on the screen.

Nodding slowly, Namjoon realized just how much his friend had been keeping from him. “How long have you been seeing whoever is on the other end of that phone you’re always on?” He asked with an edge of playfulness in his tone.

Trying to hold back the curve of his lips, Yoongi smiled as he continued facing the screen. “It’s new.” Namjoon smirked, happy for his member having found someone, even if he was holding out on introducing her. “But I almost fucked it up. Because she’s too good. And I thought I was undeserving.” Yoongi didn’t elaborate anymore on the subject, but Namjoon understood what he was saying.

“Well, shit,” Namjoon breathed out in realization that there was probably an entire thought process going on in his potential lover’s head that he knew nothing about. “I should probably talk to her, huh?”

Nodding, Yoongi took a glance at his younger friend. “Just ask her about it. I can almost guarantee it has nothing to do with you not being good enough,” he gave the tiniest of reassuring smiles. “It’s probably the opposite.”

Sighing deeply, Namjoon thought of you and the internal conflict that must be going on inside your head at the moment. That is until Yoongi interrupted his thoughts, pulling Namjoon’s attention back to the work that needed to be done.

“Or maybe it is you and you should just forget about this whole thing and focus on this fucking song that’s due today,” he teased in a joking tone, Namjoon letting out a light chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he apologized bashfully. “Restart the track, I’m here now.”

When Namjoon left his apartment that morning, you were still there, failing to hold back tears as rain threatened to fall outside. He left you with a decision: stay and be with him, or leave, possibly for good. When he returned that afternoon, the rain was pouring, drenching his hair and clothes as the weight of your decision sat heavy in his mind.

The trek from the doors of the apartment building to the elevator had his heart racing more than usual, the fear of what he’d find, or not find, within his home suffocating the man. How would he accept the conclusion to this thing with you if you weren’t there?

Over the course of your fling, he’d come to know your heart as a hearth. The center of his home. He’d felt its warmth, the comfort and security you provided. But he also knew the bitter cold that chilled him to the bone when you locked him out. He wasn’t sure anyone else’s warmth would be able to thaw his numb existence if you walked out of his life.

Yet, reaching his apartment door, he still had hope. Because no matter how many times you’d tried to keep him at a distance, you always pulled him even closer than before. He trusted you. You’d given him a million reasons to expect disappointment, and he still believed in you.

Unlocking the door and pushing it open, all he could hear was the drum of his heart pounding against his chest. Scanning the living space, his heart dropped just slightly at no trace of you. But the hope remained. You could still be in the bedroom. Or the bathroom. He felt you in there still. It didn’t feel like an abandoned home.

Calling out your name, he strode toward the bedroom, peeking inside the open door to see… emptiness. The room was filled with his belongings, as full of meaning and personality as ever, but it felt so barren. With the bathroom door down the hall open as well, his heart stopped for a moment. You were gone.

Entering the bedroom, he scanned the space, the chill of the outdoors already filling the typically warm area. Or perhaps it was the absence of you. The top drawer of his dresser, the one he offered to you, was left ajar, drawing him closer to check its contents.

If there could just be one piece of you in there, just a single item, he’d have that hope to hold onto for just a bit longer. He approached the furniture much slower than he did the bedroom, his confidence significantly faltering the longer he stood in the apartment without you there.

With his index finger, he tugged the drawer open just a bit more as he peered over the edge to look inside. A sharp exhale left him as tears instantly pricked his eyes, a lump of emotion forming in his throat. It was empty.

Placing his palm flat against the outside of the drawer, he prepared to slam it shut when the dirty clothes hamper to the side of the dresser caught his eyes. Appearing purposefully placed, sitting on top of his clothing, was your lost shirt. As if you mindlessly placed it there, unknowingly designating the domestic space as a shared one.

Slowly, he reached for the garment, lifting it out of the hamper just as the echo of the front door opening filled the otherwise silent apartment. His legs were moving him toward the bedroom door before his mind could even comprehend the situation.

He was standing in the door frame before his head and heart caught up with him. There you were, the drenched t-shirt he offered you that morning hanging off your frame, your hand clenched over the strap of a tote bag, your eyes wide as you stared at him in surprise, your chest heaving as if you ran all the way there. The sight of you simultaneously knocking the air from his lungs and filling them with life.

Lifting the tote you carried, gesturing to the contents, you sighed. “Is that drawer still available?”

Heart racing, you watched as Namjoon marched toward you, your eyes filling with tears because it was him. And he was yours. Fuck, you were terrified, but he was worth it. When his arms clasped around your waist, pulling you tightly against his frame, your arms easily wrapped around the back of his neck as you exhaled in relief.

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled against his face as you pressed repeated kisses to his cheek. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he complained lightheartedly, pulling away just enough to bring his lips to yours, pecking you softly in a quick succession.

“You’re home early,” you explained between kisses. “I meant to be here when you got back.” The man’s lips curved into a grin, his stunning dimples greeting you.

You did mean to be there. You meant to have that fucking drawer filled with your belongings. You meant to be sitting in his room when he returned, smiling at him, telling him you wanted him and you were sorry that the decision wasn’t this simple from the start but it was simple now and you were choosing him.

To be honest, the conversation with Jungkook a week ago had been weighing on your mind. He’s happy with you, Jungkook had told you. Namjoon was happy with you. And you were happy with him. It was that simple.

Resting his forehead against your own, his rapid breathing began evening out, your fingers running comfortingly along his neck. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark,” you apologized sincerely, a tear sliding down your face. “For giving you so many mixed signals.”

“No, no,” he quickly negated, dropping the shirt to your feet as his hands came to hold your face, his thumb wiping away the tear. “I’m sorry for putting pressure on you,” he counter-apologized, you shaking your head sadly.

“Joon, don’t do that. Don’t you dare apologize,” you cried. “You’ve been so amazing, you just- you are amazing. Like so amazing that you terrify me,” you admitted, Namjoon pulling away from you so his eyes could scan your features, his thumb catching another tear as it escaped your bottom lash line.

“I terrify you? Babe, how is that possible? You scare the living hell out of me,” he chuckled, you letting out a light laugh with him as you glanced downward.

“I gained feelings for you so easily, and-” you looked up to meet his intense gaze. “You’re so incredible, and this kind of thing,” you gestured between you both, “doesn’t always work out,” you explained, Namjoon’s stare softening in slow realization. “You’re so much to lose.”

“Babe,” he whispered empathetically, your words paralleling the talk he had with Yoongi. You weren’t holding back because Namjoon wasn’t good enough, but rather because you felt he was so good. And the thought of losing something so good was too much to bear.

“I didn’t plan on feeling this way toward you, and when it happened so quickly, I just got scared,” you sobbed, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout as tears fell onto your cheeks. “If I lost you, I don’t know if I’d recover,” you told him, followed by a sniffle.

When tears formed in Namjoon’s own eyes, your heart swelled in affection and you wanted to protect him. “I just have had this persistent belief stuck in my brain that it’s better to not have something so great at all than to have it and lose it,” you explained shaking your head. “But that’s so stupid, because you’re the best and I want you, I’ve wanted you. I’m still scared but I fucking want you, Joon.”

The man didn’t say anything, instead choosing to kiss you hard, the action full of passion and understanding, his lips working perfectly against your own. Before, you wondered if you and Namjoon had met in another lifetime. In that moment, however, it felt as though you’d been waiting for this in every lifetime, or possibly fighting it, never fully getting it. Getting him. But in this moment, this lifetime, you finally got it right.

Pulling away from the kiss, Namjoon’s hands held your face as his eyes scanned your features. Letting out a breath, he wrapped his arms around your head in a hug, your face finding solace against his neck, his skin still wet but characteristically warm as always. “When I got home and you weren’t here, I could see my whole life continuing on without you and everything was,” he sighed, “cold.”

“Joonie,” you whispered, your face scrunching up in emotion.

“You make me happy,” he assured you. And there were those words again that made this whole thing so simple. “Being vulnerable around you- I’m scared too,” he admitted. “And maybe the fear of losing all of this will always be there, because we are a lot to lose. But we’re so much more to gain.”

The words sunk in slow but penetrated deep within you, his sentiment being the first time you ever thought about fear and love going hand in hand. Of course it was scary. Life is unpredictable. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t live while you can, especially when something so wonderful presents itself. And with that thought in mind, you had no doubt that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

“Do you still want me to be your girlfriend?” You asked through a small smile, Namjoon loosening the hug to look at you, his lips curving up, his dimples appearing as perfect divots. “Because if so, I would really like for you to be my boyfriend.”

“Then it looks like you’re my girlfriend now,” he grinned happily, kissing your forehead gently.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

“What? You’re my girlfriend?” His eyebrows raised with the teasing question.

“Yeah,” you giggled, kissing the man’s lips tenderly. “Again.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he repeated before deepening the kiss.

Losing yourselves in the kiss, his lips on yours, your fingers threaded into his hair as you desperately tugged on the locks, Namjoon smirking against your mouth just as you lightly bit his plump bottom lip. His hands moved to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him, causing you to step forward, effectively slipping on the clothing that the man had previously dropped at your feet, your forehead hitting Namjoon’s cheekbone with a light force.

“Oh my god, are you ok?” You asked, inspecting his face, Namjoon chuckling in amusement as he squeezed your hips in his grasp.

“Are you ok?” He countered, you giggling as you nodded.

“Come here, babe,” you cooed, angling his face so you could leave a few sweet kisses to his cheek. “Is that-?” You asked, looking to the floor, spotting the source of the near fall.

Bending to pick up the shirt, you let out a small gasp in surprise. “Guess where it was,” Namjoon playfully started, you pulling your eyebrows together in question. “The clothes hamper.”

“No way,” you giggled, realizing you must have put it in there with unknowing purpose. “Well, I prefer this shirt anyway,” you teased, looking down to the t-shirt Namjoon had given you to wear.

“It looks a little wet,” he said suggestively, looking down at your frame in a way that made you want to strip everything off that very second.

Shrugging, you cocked your head at him, your fingers toying with the damp strands at the nape of his neck. “Maybe you should take it off me then,” you suggested with a smirk, Namjoon immediately tugging on the material. “Yours is a little wet too, babe,” you pointed out playfully as you ran your hand down his chest.

“Well,” he looked down at his own shirt for a moment. “Would you look at that.” Laughing at his remark, you kissed him softly before smiling against his mouth.

“Hey, before we go any further with this whole taking these off,” you tugged on the fabric over his pectoral, “can we talk about something real quick?” You asked, knowing you were completely killing the mood but needing to be on the same page.

“What’s up? You ok?” He asked, a nervousness seeping into his tone and features, though he tried to appear calm.

“No, yeah, everything is fine, it’s just,” you tilted your head to the side in thought. “Can we keep this whole boyfriend girlfriend thing between us for now?” You asked, hoping the question didn’t come across in any way other than how you meant it. “I just want to take our time getting used to the label and the new terms and be able to adjust to everything that comes with this before we invite other people in.”

“Other people as in,” he started, “my members?”

“I just want to be really certain and comfortable and properly established before they know,” you said guiltily, the man smiling in amusement to your nerves.

“That’s fine, babe, I get it,” he nodded, kissing your cheek comfortingly. “Properly established,” he teased you, causing you to groan as you poked his chest in slight embarrassment.

“Stop teasing me,” you giggled. “The guys just mean a lot to you and honestly they already mean a lot to me so I just want to know exactly what we are and feel good about where we’re at before us includes all of us,” you explained unnecessarily, though it felt very necessary to you. “Does that make sense?”

“Of course it makes sense,” he assured you with a fond smile. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

Grinning at him, you nodded, jokingly confirming that you did indeed know that. Namjoon laughed before kissing your lips quickly, you slightly chasing him, causing the man to flash you a smirk. “This could be fun,” he commented, you raising your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah?” You asked, Namjoon nodding, causing you to hum in agreement. “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers,” you said seductively, dragging your finger along his collarbone. “Like Romeo and Juliet, but without the ending,” you added, Namjoon chuckling at you as he pulled you closer once again, nuzzling his face against your neck. “We’re not really forbidden either but you get the vibe,” you continued, Namjoon’s breathy laugh tickling your skin.

“I get the vibe,” he confirmed humorously, you giggling as he kissed the spot on your neck a few times, you biting your bottom lip in response. “Although, Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy,” he pointed out, you groaning in annoyance at him.

“I said without the ending, you said you get the vibe, Dimples,” you complained, Namjoon laughing further.

“Sorry, sorry, I get the vibe,” he playfully told you, trailing kisses along your jaw.

“I don’t think you do get the vibe,” you teased, though a small moan cut you off.

“I get the vibe, babe,” he assured just before attaching his lips to yours once again, you immediately deepening the action as you started pushing him backward toward his bedroom.

With him so close, your door wide open to his presence, a warmth spread across your body at the feeling and the realization that he was yours and you were his, and in the kind of way that you both could feel secure in being each other’s. You were still scared, but you were happy.

You never planned on meeting Namjoon, and you definitely weren’t planning to fall for the man. But standing in his apartment, in his embrace, you found yourself feeling as though you were home. As unexpectedly as Namjoon entered your life, he never felt foreign. In fact, he’d felt familiar since the first night you spent with him. Just now, you were finally allowing yourself to make yourself at home, take your coat and shoes off, well, and the rest of your clothes, and even leave them in his dirty clothes hamper. Because you were finally home.

And you’d finally fill that fucking drawer.

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hatchetfieldtheories · 4 years ago

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Return to Hatchetfield-Town - TGWDLM Part 3

Have I been putting off this part because of sad Bill? Maybe. Or is it because of all your amazing Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory submissions? Yeah, you were right the first time. I just can’t deal with sad Bill.

We left part 2 of the TGWDLM rewatch where the Scooby Gang had turned up at the spooky mansion, which can only go well, and we come back in part 3 as they’ve left the tied up resident bad guy alone with the one person who has a weakness for said bad guy.

Links to previous parts

It’s Ted loving time and I make no apologies for it.

Am I the only one who saw the scene with Ted and Charlotte and immediately got sent back to MAMD’s Joey and Sally? It’s so good seeing Joey and Jaime acting opposite each other like this again, they both bring the same amount of chaotic brilliance.

I have no jokes to make for this, I just needed a gif of the “slap” here. Beautiful. Iconic.

Here we see a bit of the true Ted, the Ted we see in Time Bastard. He’s an idiot sure, but its obvious he is actually a hopeless romantic who really cares for Charlotte, underneath an exterior of “sleazeball”.

When I originally read what happens in Time Bastard I will admit it didn’t really fit with the image I had in my head of Ted. Ted is first and foremost played for laughs. He’s selfish and arrogant and funny. But rewatching TGWDLM, especially with Time Bastard in mind, you do see where Joey let’s Ted’s façade drop. You see it at a greater extent later when Charlotte dies and Ted goes off on one to Bill. But you also see it here (I’m sorry Ted fans):

Serious gifs, who is she?

Now. What’s happening in this next little scene? Are we ready for some tin foil hatting?

What do you want Charlotte?

Continuing our theme of characters explaining what they want in clear and certain terms, Charlotte starts praying to God, then Sam wakes up. Was Sam waiting for everyone else to leave before “waking up” in order to target Charlotte? Or were Charlotte’s prayers answered by an Eldritch being with the capability to control the Creedy Chorus? Later Sam says that he “saw god”.

In Black Friday, Linda attempts to issue in the “birth of a god.” God is certainly a word the Devil Dolls are happy to attribute to themselves. Somehow I don’t think it would have mattered if they had gone to a Methodist or Presbyterian church.

Opinion time: Tied Up My Heart is a full on rock bop and deserves way more praise and acclaim. You could have told me this song was from Rock of Ages and I would believed you.

“Don’t you twust me” – serious Wiggly vibes there Sam.

This is kinda catchy Sam!

In part two we briefly discussed when Hidgens became infected, and there is some theories that believe he was infected from the moment he touched the blue brain goo, leading to Show Stopping Number happening.

Charlotte was infected the minute she touched Sam’s brains. Like Hidgens, it happened slowly, but its very clear it had begun to take root in this song. Tied Up My Heart is to Charlotte, what Let It Out is to Paul. They both find themselves dancing without meaning to, they both begin to hear the music. I’ve mentioned previously that Tied Up My Heart is the only song in which there is an offstage chorus, which would be strange unless for the first time we’re hearing the show as Charlotte is hearing it – she’s beginning to hear the rest of the Hive.

The only difference between Charlotte and Paul is their wants during these pivotal numbers. Paul is trying harder to fight the song because his want is to destroy the meteor. Charlotte isn’t able to fight the song because her want is Sam… and the song is giving her that.

I think this is the part of the musical where most people pause and proclaim… what the hell am I watching. Which, you know… valid.

Can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is?

Ted just casually predicting the ending of the show. Take out the head and the whole thing falls down – an historically inaccurate statement in the proceedings of Hatchetfield’s apocalypses.

Exhibit A – Taking out the meteor does not stop the hive.

Exhibit B – Sending a Nuke into the Black and White does not stop Wiggly.

I don’t know what Nerdy Prudes will be about but heads up to the characters – maybe don’t try and destroy the root of the issue as your solution.

Obviously there is a lot of story in Emma and Paul’s discussion here, a lot of which gets unpacked and revisited in Forever and Always, but I’m not really going to delve into the specifics of it here. My biggest take away from this conversation is that Emma explains her past, and her intentions for the future, but at no point is it ever clear what her want is.

In a musical where character’s are killed because they want something, is it any wonder Emma is the one who survives at the end? She doesn’t have any big, ultimate want. She’s jaded and tired, until the end… when what she wants is for Paul to have survived.

This shows a clear distinction between how Pokey and Wiggly operate (and the others, but we’ll discuss them when we get to Nightmare Time.) Both of these Bothersome Brothers use wanting as their tool of chaos but in very different ways.

Pokey wants you to want something, in order to tempt you with that in order to destroy you.

Wiggly wants to find holes to fill with exaggerated, artificial echoes of a want.

The new game at Toy Zone – Bop Ted

Does anyone else forget for a bit how amazing Jaime’s voice is and then finds themselves entranced when Join Us and Die happens? I’m sure there is some lore in this song but I’m far too distracted.

If we refer back to our Violence over Time chart from part two of the rewatch you will see we have now fully arrived at the point where the Hive has stopped trying to just entice everyone with fluffy feelings before murdering them, and are now just resorting to “we’re gonna kill you and it’ll hurt a lot.”

I know there is plenty of discussion regarding whether Hidgens is good or bad, infected or not infected etc – but none of that matters. What matters is he makes the same crappy puns I make in inappropriate situations and I think that’s beautiful.

“The Charlotte you knew and loved was gone the minute a note came out her mouth.” – Snape’s back with the foreshadowing again.

Hidgens then proceeds to subject our heroes to a very intricate test to find out who is human, and who is the musical Doppleganger (one of the AJ Holmes fans there). I’ve seen Moana once, and I became obsessed with the bioluminescent crab so I don’t remember any of the other songs apart from Shiny. This is a problem because the only other song I know from Moana has now become Paul’s version of whatever it is he is singing. I refuse to believe there is any other version of that song.

“Their tactic is to hide amongst us, and as their numbers grow, they become more bold.” – yes Hidgens – we’ve all seen the chart.

Acting Masterclass with Corey Dorris

Bill gets a phone call from Alice, she’s stuck at Hatchetfield High and her girlfriend and the other kids have become singing and dancing zombies. Is this a prequel to High School Musical?

Its worth noting that Alice has locked herself in the Choir room – Hatchetfield High’s number one place to hide when things are going badly - x

Look what happened Nightmare Time.

Corey Dorris’ face pulls on every heart string I possess. Not Your Seed is a fantastic song, with some superb singing by Mariah, but the heart of this song is Corey. Bill is a broken man from the moment he echoes Alice’s words that Grace Chastity is a Nerdy Prude. And the voice crack!

Small warning here for a very brief discussion about suicide. If you want to skip past scroll to the next gif.

The song is an attempt to bring Bill to the Hive, but I think the plan from the start was to push him to shoot himself. Bill wants his daughter back, he wants her to be a part of his life, but unlike with Charlotte, where Hive!Sam attempts to convince her he’s not really dead and wants her, Hive!Alice uses Bill’s want to break him further and further, swinging between Alice’s love and disdain for her father. This isn’t an attempt to lay a trap and kill him when he falls in it, it’s a blatant push towards him killing himself. The Hive only picked up the gun because Paul was there to stop him.

I also find the mirror of this moment to later in Watcher World very fascinating. We obviously know Pokey and Blinky are brothers, and I wonder if the set up leading Alice to point a gun at Bill in Watcher World is Blinky’s twisted humour, echoing what he knows happened in another timeline. A horrible joke that would be lost on Bill and Alice in that timeline, but very recognisable to all of us Watchers.

Once again the Hive could have easily killed Paul, but they don’t. They make a big song and dance (get it?) out of how the guns not good enough to kill him with and then they start singing at him just in time for the army to turn up. The Hive had no intention of killing Paul yet, though obviously they can’t let him know that. Paul has been chosen as their Hero. He’s got work to do.

Hatchetfield High Homework

Just the one this week, I’m currently doing an Ask series where I attempt to make ridiculous sounding Hatchetfield Theories make sense. You can find them by searching Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theories. Go and have a look and follow the wonderful people sending them in.

When the rewatch returns, we get our first peep into the world of PEIP.

#return to hatchetfield town #hatchetfield #starkid #hatchetfield theory #hatchetfield theories #team starkid #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm

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skvaderarts · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth Chapter 55: Disclosure

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty-Five: Disclosure

Note: I know you’ve been waiting a long time for the answers, and now you’ve got them. This is the beginning of the end in regards to the secrets surrounding Belial’s Arc and what he hopes to gain. Enjoy… if you can.

(-~-)

It didn’t take long for everyone present in the house to make their way to the living room, especially once it was revealed that information pertaining to them had been unearthed. Despite the fact that Brenowin and Morgan hadn’t known Sirrus for more than about a day, the fact that everyone else seemed to know or otherwise welcome him was really all that it took for them to be willing to at least listen to him. And from what they could tell, he had no compelling reason to lie to them about anything.

Making the executive decision that it was probably best that they all know about what was going on, Dante called Lady and Trish, both of whom were luckily not far away, and seemed to have just finished a job a few hours prior. They agreed to come over and see what was going on despite the fact that it was probably a bit too early for them. They both sounded like they had just woken up when they’d answered the phone. That would surely get him shot in the head later on.

But what was more of a surprise to anyone that knew him was the fact that Vergil had actually made a similar decision. Taking a moment to step aside and make a phone call, Vergil had subsequently disappeared for several minutes to go and fetch Magnolia, something that had gone completely unnoticed until they had come back through the front door together just a short while after. It wasn’t a new notion that Vergil was capable of benign stealthy, but none of them had realized until then that he was able to dip out of a crowded room and just disappear from everyone’s consciousness. Perhaps they had spent too much time actively tuning him out until now? Even Dante hadn’t noticed at the time, more than likely because he’d been talking to Lady on the phone.

Within a few minutes of their return, Lady and Trish came around, and they had brought along Morrison. According to them, they had run into him as they were leaving, the middle man presumably interested in getting in contact with them to offer a job. Or, at the very least curious as to how well the last job they had been on together had gone for them. Dante wouldn’t have been surprised if Morrison had been the one to provide them with whatever work they had been doing lately. He was resourceful like that.

As was Ludwig family tradition at that point, Flora made a fresh pot of tea that everyone was welcome to share. If she was going to sit there and listen to Sirrus talk for goodness knew how long, she wasn’t going to do it without a cup of tea in her hands, especially since Magnolia had brought a tray of macaroons with her when she’d arrived. Vergil’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect, in her opinion.

“Ok, so what’s up?” Nero said nonchalantly as he sat down on the couch next to V. Considering everything that had happened recently, he was pretty sure that nothing Sirrus could say would be particularly shocking to him, and he was hoping that he wouldn’t be proven wrong in that regard. “You said that you had something to tell us?”

Sirrus nodded, watching as everyone settled in and made themselves comfortable. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about repeating himself. The only person who wasn’t there was Nico, but it would have taken several hours for her to reach their location. Or perhaps it wouldn’t, considering her driving skills...

“First, I’d like to start by making it clear that I have obtained some of this information from Aluta and Willow, so if you’d like more in-depth information, you will have to contact them. I’m just the messenger in that regard.”

Various members of the team either shrugged or nodded in response, silently indicating that they would like for him to continue. He leaned back against the corner of the wall nearest to the window, the warmth from the fireplace licking his subconscious as he tuned its presence out, for the most part, noting its existence, but not sparing much in the way of attention to it. He drew a long breath before proceeding, sure that he was about to ruin several people’s day in the process. Oh, how he hated that sort of thing. Being the bearer of bad news was never pleasant, but in cases like this, it was a necessary evil. One way or another, someone was going to have to tell them. It might as well be him.

Gesturing for him to continue, Vergil sat down in one of the armchairs nearest to the couch. He wasn’t quite sitting next to V, but he was as close to doing to as it was possible to be without actually doing it. The young summoner seemed to silently note this for a moment, allowing his gaze to travel towards how father, but otherwise not reacting. He was clearly anticipating bad news, and considering everything that was going on and the fact that he was locked in a losing battle against a devil prince, that was more than understandable.

“Now that we have that out of the way, I’d like to say that I’m genuinely sorry to always be the bearer of bad news in these instances. What am I, the wild hunt?” Sirrus scoffed and shook his head before realizing that that at least half of the people in the room didn’t have any idea what that even was. He then sighed and folded his arms around himself. “Would you prefer that I get straight to the point, or go into a bit more detail?”

“Considering the implications of what I assume you are here to tell us, I would prefer the former and then the latter,” V said softly, rubbing his arm absentmindedly in an attempt to soothe it. Just thinking about what was going on was enough to make the malevolent ink that coursed his veins tingle from excitement, something that the rest of his biological composition didn’t approve of or appreciate very much.

Putting his arm behind his back, Sirrus nodded in a manner more akin to that of a curtsy than anything else. He glanced over at Morgan who in turn nodded in agreement. She didn’t need him to ask for her to be able to tell that he was awaiting her permission to continue. He then cleared his throat before leaning over and pouring a few sips of wine that he summarily gulped down in the least refined manner possible. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, and he already hated this conversation.

“Fair enough. I suppose nothing worthwhile is accomplished by beating around the bush all day, is there? We all have things to do and places to be.” He went in for another topped-off glass, indirectly signifying to everyone in the room that he almost certainly didn’t want to be here talking about this right now. “The Ludwin family sent some of their family members to go and investigate Belial’s activities and they have found an almost definitive answer as to what he wants with both Morgan and V. I trust that you don’t need me to tell you it’s not to simply spread the good word.”

“No, I suppose you do not.” Vergil wasn’t amused, but he was also keenly aware of the fact that Sirrus hadn’t exactly meant that in a humorous way. He’d clearly been using his cynicism and sarcasm as a coping device. “Continue.”

With a casual shrug, Sirrus turned his attention back to V and Morgan. “V, do you recall what you said about the attack that destroyed Lympha about three years ago?”

To the surprise of no one, they both nodded. Morgan looked as though she would become sick to her stomach at the mention of that place, but she did remember. There was no way that she would ever forget. V looked down at the floor for a moment in discomfort, considering the possibility of speaking. But when he finally did, it wasn’t about the town. “How did you hear about that, Sirrus? You were outside.”

Sirrus nodded in agreement, reaching for another glass of wine but finding that the bottle was a bit too close to being empty for his liking. “Your quite right. I was with Nico. But I have very good hearing, and I am not at all ashamed to admit that I did, in fact, eavesdrop on you. I can see why you’d find that strange, however. My apologies if I’ve upset you or caused you undue confusion.”

V seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, brushing his concerns aside. He had done nothing to offend him. He would know if he’d done something to cause V any distress to the young summoner. That made sense. After all, Sirrus was not exactly a normal person, and he had several abilities that he knew very little about. “Think nothing of it. But please, what does this have to do with what happened in… that place?”

Leaning back again, Sirrus adjusted his shoulders. “It seems that before Belial disbanded his cult and destroyed just about every trace of it, he had tasked them to take care of something important. And that “something important” was in Lympha.” He turned to Morgan, his focus lingering on her for a moment as he attempted to find a tactful way to put into words what he wanted to say. “You made mention of an old story. Something about a prophecy?”

Morgan nodded. “Yea, it was something about how some settlers were run out of the area a few hundred years back on suspicion of being witches, and the leader of the coven’s son was killed before he could be used as a vessel of sorts of a ritual to bring back their fallen leader. She cursed the town or something like that. I think it was… “ she stopped, clearly unable to remember what all she was supposed to remember in that situation.

“And onto this land, I lay a binding of blood and bone. For never again shall the shadow depart. And the snow shall run red with the blood of the self-righteous until upon the altar of the Lord of the Disquieting the flesh of the so chosen repository is offered and the blood is spilled, melding their beings into one. And so he shall walk the damned soil again and hold dominion over the dominion of humanity as the storm holds dominion over the sky.” Sirrus looked displeased to have had to even speak those words. He didn’t like curses at the best of times, but full-on generational damnation? That was going several layers too far into the depths of insanity. “That is the first half of the actual prophecy. It was quite the thing to translate from Enochian, but I managed to do it on short notice once it was discovered in the Ludwig trove. Aluta deduced from what I shared with her about your story that it was relevant.”

Nodding in consideration, Dante seemed to linger on the words for a while. He clearly understood them, at least for the most part, but he was still at the end of his rope in regards to what that was related to in their exact circumstance. “Yea, that’s pretty metal and all, but what precisely does it have to do with V and Morgan?”

Realizing that he could stand to be a bit more transparent about it, Sirrus looked over at Morgan, displeased about what he needed to say. “The curse was created by a woman named Atropa Lundwick nearly exactly 500 years ago. She was the only survivor of a heinous attack by locals, and she was cursed herself at the time by those same townspeople after the deaths of her family. They apparently enchanted their crops to help them through the hard winter as an act of kindness, and they all nearly starved to death as a direct result of refusing to eat food that was “tainted by unnatural forces.” She was the matriarch of what you now know as the Ludwig family. That curse is the reason that members of the Ludwig family only ever have daughters. The locals incorrectly assumed that that would be a disadvantage to her. Fools.”

Flora and Magnolia both looked visibly horrified by the statement, but not at all angry. A sort of deep sorrow seemed to overtake them as they collectively realized the unintended butterfly effect that this still had on things in so many of their lives even to this day. It was a tragedy that had borne more tragedy, and no one had really emerged the winner in the situation. What a painful and shameful legacy for their ancestor to have left behind. “What does this have to do with V and Morgan, Sirrus.”

Taking note of the pain in Magnolia’s voice as she asked him that question, he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head in deep dissatisfaction. “For a cause to have any bearing, it has to have a source of anchoring, a natural or unnatural force to draw from. The Ludwin family at that time had dealing with several powerful demons as a result of their somewhat Umbran ancestry. One of the demons they guarded against was Belial, but once tragedy struck, Atropa sought the tutelage of the very devil she had sought to destroy, her grief gaining the upper hand as she mourned the death of her only son. She formed a pack with him, and that pact led to the enforcement of the curse. She used the power he lent her to see forward into a time that had not yet occurred for him, and the prophecy was borne of the outcome that favored him. She promised him everything if he succeeded, and ever since then, his influence strengthened by her curse has allowed him dominion for one season of the year over the town of Lympha to seek out his vessel. Her coven had never intended to sacrifice her son to him, but he had requested as much as he would have been a powerful asset to a devil prince who was physically incapable of crossing over into the human world.”

Morgan looked horrified. “So that’s what was wrong with all the people in the town? They were being subconsciously influenced by a curse and a demon all at once? That’s why the animals and anything else that ventured into the woods disappeared into the darkness? Because he was taking them to the underworld?”

Sirrus made a gesture to indicate that she was half right. “You’re mostly correct. Belial could not bring them into the underworld due to the fact that he could not open a gate, and there were no existing ones in the area. But he fed off of their fear, and he warped them into the horrible creatures that were sometimes seen around the town. Like in the story about the dog that you told V. At night his corruptive darkness changed those weak enough to be changed, and assimilated those who would not bend to his will, making the forest stronger. And it construed in a cycle unending until the day that his cult came to the city… looking for both of you.”

It was Nero’s turn to ask a question now, the young devil hunter clearly displeased by everything he had just learned. “But what did they want with V and Morgan as opposed to literally everyone else in that cursed hellhole of a town?”

The red-haired man gave him a sad smirk. “What did the Order of the Sword want with you in the grand scheme of their master plan?”

Nero seemed to think about the question for a moment before he visibly paled and felt the breath leave his lungs. Oh. Oh no. He didn’t mean that… He couldn’t mean that…

“On their 20th birthday, every one of the young men in the town was compelled to enter the woods. This was a test on Belial’s part. He is the Lord of Disquieting from the prophecy. Apparently, he was testing the mental resolve of each of the potential vessels in the town. The one who could resist the incredibly powerful and increasingly strong pull of his influence would be the one he would pick. And that is how he located V. V was basically entirely resistant to all but the very strongest of his mental barrages, save for the one occasion with the full moon which was literally the anniversary of the curse being placed from what I can tell. And more importantly, why his cult descended upon the town that day. Their master specifically wanted V. And he wants him alive. But there was another half to that prophesy.”

Brenowin looked ill suddenly. He shared a concerned look with Sirrus and then at his sister, clearly realizing something that none of the rest of them did. But he couldn’t speak of it, and he had a feeling that Sirrus would do so for him anyway. “You don’t mean…”

Much to his displeasure, he nodded. “Unfortunately, I do. I can tell from the ill look on your face that you know of what I speak. The cult must have made mention to it, then?” He watched as Bren nodded and then looked over at his sister, a look of immense concern on his face. He then continued, wanting to get this off of his chest. “And upon the twin thrones of darkness shall sit the vessel of darkness and the eyes of prophecy, she who will be gifted future sight as I was and who shall make material the brood of the machinations of the lord of shadows, Insanity made physical. For only through the union of darkness and foresight can be brought true retribution to cleanse humanity of their petty mortality.”

Everyone in the room seemed to linger on those words for a few moments before slowly coming to the realization of what they implied. And each one of them looked varying degrees of physically ill as they all came to the same unanimously horrifying conclusion. And V especially was mentally kicking himself. Why had he not considered the fact that Belial’s cult could have been the same cult that had killed the people of Lympha a few years ago? Perhaps the devil prince’s dark influence had been what had made him feel compelled to stay in the first place. The demonic part of him could have been drawn to the aura that his influence provided…

“So you’re saying that… Belial wants to use V as a vessel that he can, what, possess so that he can come to the human world and take everything over, and then he wants Morgan to… so they can… and she’d be… That’s…” Dante looked between his nephews and his brother, noting their stunned silence and the will to live exit V’s body with silent indignation. He’d actually prefer dying to a fate like that.

“Quite literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Nero said breathlessly, looking over at his brother and the horrified shivering young teen girl sitting next to him. He couldn’t tell which of those options was the worse fate. Being used as a meat puppet for darkness incarnate was bad, but the idea of being stuck with him to create descendants of his bloodline purely for the purpose of helping to subjugate the rest of the world was literally too vile for him to comprehend properly.

And with the will of a Devil Lord in the body of a descendant of the great dark knight Sparda, he could undo every safeguard and protective ward your father placed with enough time and the proper know-how. And he could easily gain access to both… after all, who would stand a chance against that kind of power…” Lucia looked mournful and horrified. She couldn’t imagine something so dark coming to pass. No one deserved that, but V? No one could deserved that fate less. And Morgan…

… Our father’s spell stops the possibility of a demon as powerful as Belial crossing over into the human world, but possession of the movement of power and consciousness into another living being. Only his essence needs to pass over… and in that respect, his horrific and contrite plan is actually entirely possible. And I loathe that.”

“Over my dead body,” Magnolia said, genuinely angry. She didn’t even bother to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. “I will not allow the momentary hubris of my one forebearers to lead to the damnation of two children, and by proxy, the entirety of humanity, over the mistakes of a few people nearly a millennium ago. This dies with her, as it damn well should have back then.”

Sirrus nodded in agreement. “And that is why I am here today. To propose the idea of stopping that before it starts. We need to go on a little road trip. And we need to do it now. I need you to see the conduit. And I need you to see it now.”

(-~-)

And there it is, Belial’s horrible plan finally revealed! Let me know what you think in the comments! I had a blast writing this when I got back from grocery shopping today. You all take care. I’ll see you next week on Wedsnday! And for those of you who dropped in on my Tumblr account during DMC OC Week, thanks for the love and support! See you in the comment section, and stay safe out there! Enjoy the nightmare fuel! Bye Bye!

#Devil May Cry #V #Vitale #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU OC's #My Post Devil May Cry V AU Fanfiction #My Post Devil May Cry 5 OC #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Dante #Vergil #Nero

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rpd-rookie · 5 years ago

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What Does The ‘S’ Stand For ? - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: When you learn that Leon got the job you desperately wanted you decide to pay him a visit to congratulate him and finally put an end to the competition between the two of you in favour of some cooperation. Turns out, cooperation sometimes involve taking your clothes off.

Author’s Note: Some one-shot involving (pre) RE2 Remake Leon, a very sassy reader and some smut. I haven't written that genre in a while though. Hope I'm not too rusty. And by the way, if you notice some terrible grammatical mistakes please let me know (English is not my mother tongue). Anyway, I wish you'll like this story and as usual don't forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think about it.

Warning: SMUT and Language. You can also expect some humour and some fluff.

Also available on AO3

Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.” Wise words. But clearly Roosevelt never had to compete with Kennedy, and by Kennedy you didn’t mean John F. Kennedy but another Kennedy, one with less charisma yet better hair (hell, got to render unto Caesar what’s Caesar’s), Leon S. Kennedy - ‘S’ probably standing for “sucker” or “saint” in your opinion. After all, the guy was such a goody two-shoes. Teacher’s favourite. Neat and tidy top student. Perfect arbiter of right and wrong. And certainly, the only guy in the academy who didn’t stick his cock in Barbara Johnson’s pussy. Weird since she also had a president’s name just like him. Could have been the perfect opportunity for a horizontal presidential debate.

If it wasn’t clear already, you didn’t like Kennedy very much. But it was not for the reasons mentioned above. No, you could tolerate the fact that he was the embodiment of virtue and morals. What you could not tolerate though, was that he was better than you at everything. At fundamentals, at crime prevention and analysis, at counterintelligence, at physical agility, at shooting, at… well, you get the point. It infuriated you. He infuriated you. You never had the chance to beat him. Never. He was always top of your class and you were always close second. So of course, when you received the letter from the Raccoon City Police Department informing you that your application had been rejected and that the position had been given to someone else, you did the math. Only Kennedy could have taken that job away from you. After all, you had heard him talking about Raccoon City at lunch break quite a few times in the past weeks and each time he had sounded so excited – well, as excited as cannibalistic murders can make you of course. Truth is, you had also shown interest in this city the moment its terrible crimes hit the first page of the newspapers alongside the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, collecting every tiny article about it and telling your classmates what a thrilling experience it would be to work on that case. You had even imagined yourself wearing the blue uniform, RPD largely written on your chest, making a report about the rotting body of a camper found in the Arklay mountains.

You sighed, disappointment hitting you hard again. And with a hesitant hand, you knocked at the door in front of you somewhat ready to let go of the competition in favour of some cooperation. You barely waited a couple of seconds before Kennedy opened the door, a cordless telephone against his ear. He appeared genuinely surprised to see you there. “Call you back later, mom.” He said before hanging up the phone, still staring at you with astonished eyes. “Y/N.”

“Telling your mommy about the amazing job you just got?” Your question had sounded more barbed and curter than indented. Bitterness probably. Leon sighed. He knew exactly what you meant. “Look, if it is about Raccoon City…” “Of course it is about Raccoon City. Why do you think I’m here? To discuss fashion?” You entered his bedsit without asking and looked around you. So well organized and tidy, so military. Pff. Where were the greasy pizza boxes, the nasty underwear on the floor and the bin filled with used tissues all the other guys usually had?

You turned around to face him with a stone cold expression. “I’m guessing you knew I wanted that post.” “Yeah but…” You cut him off. You couldn’t care less about the thing he wanted to say. “I don’t blame you. Had I been in your place I would have apply for it too. Damn, I even applied without being in your place, so … The point is, I wanted to congratulate you – even if it hurts me to do so – and tell you that I’m glad this competition between the two of us is finally coming to end.” Leon briefly chuckled and kept an amused smile on his face. This wasn’t the kind of words he had expected from you. “Well, thanks I guess.” “You’re welcome” You dramatically put a hand over your heart “Gosh, it kills me to be so polite to you, Kennedy.” He retained a laugh and you approached him to slam a heavy blue binder against his - surprisingly strong - chest. Wow, muscles! “Take this.” You reluctantly said with a strangled voice as if you were a mother giving up her baby . “Take care of it. It’s the work of a lifetime … sort of.”

Leon furrowed his brows and opened the folder. Inside, there were all the articles you had collected about Raccoon City since the reveal of the incidents to the public eye plus some notes you had written during you personal late-night investigations. Leon skimmed through them. They were incredibly detailed and you could see how impressed he was. Damn, you wished you had your camera to immortalise this moment. “It won’t be of any use to me now. And it took me too much time to just throw it away so have it. Take it as parting gift.” “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know what to say.” He looked beyond happy. It made you smile. What the hell, Y/N? “Thank you, maybe?” You swallowed you smile back before he could notice, choosing to replace what could have been something sweet and nice by sarcasm. “Yes, sure.” He grinned. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack so you’re not obliged to say ‘you’re welcome’.” He teased you and as much as you wanted to find the joke lame, you surprisingly found it rather funny. “Good. Cause that would have been too much for my heart to take in a single day.” He smiled again and this time you couldn’t help but gaze. You were forced to acknowledge he was very cute, handsome even, certainly the kind of guy you would have willingly flirt with if it hadn’t been for the relentless competition between the two of you. “You know it’s nice to see you smile.” Your eyes slightly widened. You had been smiling the whole time? No! “That wasn’t a smile. That was a sneer.” You quickly replied, trying to prevent him from spotting the sudden panic in your eyes. “Sure.” But yeah, that was definitely a smile and right now your cheeks were burning.

You cleared your throat and looked back upon his face, hoping yours had found back its usual seriousness and scorn. “Well, gotta go. Good riddance, Kennedy. Good luck and try not to screw up.” You proceeded to the door, glad this conversation was over, but Leon was not ready to let you leave just yet. “You know, for me, there was never a competition between us.” You stopped and turned around. “What?” You frowned. “Of course, there was a competition.” He shook his head. “Not for me.” “Are you telling me that I have deprived myself of sleeping, fallen into coffee addiction and lost my entire social life for two years in the hope of finally beating you at a freaking test while you …” You could tell he was clearly trying not to laugh but his mocking grin was enough to make you blow a fuse. Well, a funny fuse … a funny desperate fuse “No! No!” You repeated, all irritated. “You’re kidding me!” He shrugged, playing all innocent. “Don’t fucking tell me you let me tilt at windmills!” He did. Bastard. Leon - Son of a bitch - Kennedy! That’s what the S stands for. You cursed in your head. “I tried to tell you …” He started to explain to defend himself. “When?” You harrumphed, almost shouting at him. “Well, many times but …” “Clearly not enough times.” Your sarcasm was back. “… each time you sent me packing” “I don’t do that.” You felt offended. “I can’t barely make a full sentence with you!” You opened your mouth to retort but he stopped you by pointing a finger that undeniably meant ‘Careful what you’re going to say’. So you stood there, perfectly still, mouth opened, realising that he was probably right. “You’re allowed to breath, you know.” He said as a response to your reaction but you didn’t know what to say anymore. Did you really spend all your time at the academy trying to win a non-existent competition? “Fuck.” You cursed, definitely dumbfounded.

Leon observed you, perplexed and wondering if you were going to stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the day. “Y/N” He waved in front of your face to pull you out from your thoughts but you barely noticed. “All that repressed sexual tension for nothing?” You asked yourself. Wait! Did you just say that out loud? Panic-stricken, you looked up at Leon and judging by the way he was staring at you – all ‘what the hell did she just say?’ – yep you did. “You didn’t hear what I’ve just said.” You waved your hand past his face, like a Jedi would do in a Star Wars movie, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t work but hoping that ridicule would make the situation less awkward and give you a chance to run away from his room. It was a failure. “Yes, I did.”

And just like that, Leon Saint Sucker Son of a Bitch – whatever the S stood for - Kennedy caught your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that made you gasp against him. You tried to resist for a second but then you decided to let go. After all, you had nothing to lose. The study years could be considered over and soon Leon would be in Raccoon City analysing amazing crimes while you would be God-knows-where writing parking tickets. You would never see each other again. “Tell that to anyone, Kennedy and I’ll kick your gorgeous butt from here to Raccoon City.” You threatened, close to his mouth. “I won’t. Scout’s honour.” Leon Scout Kennedy? You shook your head (Stop being silly, Y/N!) before pushing Leon on the convertible sofa behind him.

You straddled him without waiting, definitely willing to let your sudden eagerness and your repressed desire for him get the better of you. You met his lips in a new heated kiss, your body pressed against his, craving for lustful friction. And by the way Leon was holding you tight you could tell you weren’t the only one. His tongue asked permission to enter your mouth and you happily granted it. Who would have thought that Leon Saint Kennedy was such a skilled kisser? Couldn’t he suck for once? Oh yeah, he could suck at your neck apparently. Damn. A moan escaped your throat and you felt Leon smirk against your skin. “You like that?” He asked, proud of himself. You instinctively arched your neck asking for more, your hands weaving into his soft hair. “It’s not that bad.” You acknowledged and he suddenly bit you in the nape of your neck. “What the fuck?” You shouted, surprised. Leon laughed and you caught his face to kiss him and bite his lips in retaliation. But judging by the kinky smile on his angelic face, he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re incorrigible.” You humoured. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” He pecked your lips again and again and slowly began leaving a trail of light kissed down to your neck. “You’d better be. Aren’t you tired of making my life a misery?” You pretended to sulk as he kept on pressing his soft lips on your burning skin. You grabbed his chin, putting you thumb in his dimple and stared at him. How ridiculously hot he was right now with that arousal tinting his beautiful blue eyes and this dishevelled hair.

“What do you have in mind, Y/N?” Rhetorical question. He knew exactly what you had in mind. Hell, it was basically the same thing he had in his. “Stop playing coy and take your clothes off.” You whispered close to his face, your hot breath against his mouth, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth “What about your silly competition?” He murmured back, his hands slowly falling along your sides. “I’m all in for cooperation right now. So are you gonna give me a hand …” You started unbuckling his belt. “…or do I need to do everything by myself?” His eyes fixed upon yours mischievous ones, gazing at you with awe. You could tell he was completely at your mercy. “I’ll give you more than a hand.” You smirked and allowed your hands to unbutton his jeans. “I thought so.” He lifted his rear and you pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, biting your lips at the view of his beautiful cock. Jesus Christ Kennedy, Mother Nature certainly had been kind to you.

You stood up to undress yourself as well, dropping all your clothes to the floor, your eyes watching at Leon’s hastening hands fighting desperately with the buttons of his shirt. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that was impatient in this room, or horny. You let him finish before taking your place back on his laps. His hard sex against your body, you slightly shivered, impatience eating you from within. “You’re gorgeous.” He said as he tucked few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to such compliments, and, as a consequence, in order to erase all sense of discomfort in you (if you could call it like that), you decided to focus your attention on his cock. You brushed his length with your fingertips, admiring it with envy and lust, excited to do more with it. It made Leon hiss and you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading you. Without looking away from the blueness of his look, you caught his penis in your hand and started pumping it gently. Leon’s eyelids flickered; his head hit the back of the sofa and his mouth opened slightly. He seemed thankful, relieved even. You continued your gesture, watching him melting underneath you, listening to his now ragged breath with delight. God, that was sexy. He was sexy. Leon Sexy Kennedy. Suited him.

You bit your lips and decided to venture in between his legs, kneeling onto the floor. “What are you …” Leon complained when he suddenly stopped feeling you on top of him. You cut him short by guiding his cock to your mouth to softly kiss the pre cum-covered tip “Holy...” The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat and turned into a growl as you eagerly sucked the head of his cock like a Popsicle. You smiled and licked his length, staring at how ecstatic he looked from this angle. “You like that?” You winked as you quoted him and he laughed. “Women.” You engulfed his cock deep in your mouth and started bobbing your head. A new sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth and you felt him instantly relax on the couch. “God, you’re amazing.” You liked the compliment and to show your appreciation you decided to massage his balls as you kept on sucking him. You received a lustful grunt in response and soon Leon’s hand grabbed your hair to give you a quicker pace, almost making you gag on him. “Oh, sorry.“ What a gentleman! “That’s okay.” You smiled in a very naughty way. “I like it.” He chortled and you took back his dick in your mouth, welcoming it deeper to show him you didn’t mind some roughness. “You know, if you keep doing this I’m soon going to cum in your mouth.” You stopped, licked your lips and crawled back onto his lap. “That would be a shame.” You joked sarcastically, hands back in his hair “Got a condom?”

The way you pronounced the words, all smiley and adorable, made him laugh again. He pushed you softly to open the drawer of his nightstand and find your one-way ticket for cloud nine. “There!” He announced excited as he showed you the contraceptive. “But first …” He suddenly grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him, making you slightly yelp in the process. “There’s something I got to do” He lay down on the couch, spread your legs and immediately nestled his head right in between your thighs, making you instantly shiver. So, that’s what he got to do. You sighed when you felt his breath against you swollen clit but it was only when his tongue met your pink flesh that you realised how aroused you truly were. You were so wet. “Fuck, am I the one to blame for such a mess?” He joked but his mouth and tongue felt so good in between your thighs that you could only just moan and arch your back, begging for proper sucking and licking. He didn’t make you wait and gave you what you wanted as he started fondling your clit with his tongue. “Leon” That was the first time you where saying his first name and you got to admit, you liked the sound of it. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Keep going, please.” You begged and he sucked on your bud, gazing at you melting under his touch as he did. You grasped his hair when he finally let a finger enter your core. Fuck, he was good. You moved your hips instinctively against him and he added a new finger. It sank into you as easily as the first one and you cried out, finding it impossible to be discreet anymore. “Fuck, Leon. I want you. I want you now.” You begged. “Wait a second.” He asked, definitely loving your taste too much for him to stop just now. He pumped his fingers in your pussy, licking your juices greedily and you clenched your thighs around his head, feeling the imminence of your orgasm slowly yet surely approaching. “Now, Leon. Now! Please”

Leon obeyed this time and he quickly sat up and grabbed the condom he had left on the pillow next to him. He put the red wrapper between his teeth and tore it open. Then he rolled the condom down his length with both his hands. You watched him all the time, your fingers massaging your clit, finding him terribly arousing at this very moment.

Once ready, Leon bent over you to kiss you again and he tapped his hard cock on your hand to ask access to your humid entrance. You didn’t object of course and even spread your legs wider. Soon enough, you felt him slide in between your wet lips and then finally push slowly yet exquisitely inside of you. You closed your eyes as he did and drew a sharp breath once you felt him fully inside. You didn’t need time to adjust to him as if your body was meant for him. Guess Leon felt it too as he immediately took a quick pace and began pounding you. You let your hands wander on his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply gorgeous. Then you grasped his hips, and nudge his rear with your ankles, pressing his pelvis closer to you to take him deeper, and started moaning his name again. His hands caught your bouncing breasts to play with your nipples, and you rapidly felt the strong wave of pleasure back in your core, ready to drown you. “Fuck, Leon!” His mouth met one of your teats and sucked on it with ardour. That was too much to handle. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You cried out. “Yeah?” You nodded, letting a tear of pleasure escape your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice and few seconds later, you dug your nails in his hipbones and screamed loudly as you clenched around his cock, finally coming undone under his thrusts.

Stunned, breathless and at the same time a bit embarrassed that you had already reached your orgasm, you let Leon kiss you soft lips with a smile on his face. “See, you reached the finishing line before me.” He humoured. “Fuck off.” You whispered, amused yet completely exhausted. He chuckled and pressed his lips against yours one more time before gently pushing you flat on your stomach. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispered in your ear.

You moaned loudly when he thrust back into your wet core, pinning you down on the mattress that you ultimately grabbed tightly in order to stay in place. He started pounding you again, holding you by the hips, taking delight in watching your sweet butt bouncing against him as he was burying himself deeper than he had ever done before. “Jesus, Y/N!” He growled before spanking you. You gasped, astonished but in a good way. You had never thought he was that kind of guy. “Really, Kennedy? Spanking? That’s what the ‘S’ in your name stands for?” He laughed, still fucking you from behind. “I thought you would like it.” “Oh but I do. I just never thought it was your thing.” “You should stop taking me for a saint, Y/N.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing the strand of hair covering his right eye away and focused again on his movements. “It’s not my fault. It’s your baby face.” You confessed in between two moans. He brutally stopped and you wondered for a second if what you had just said had actually vexed him. “My baby face? Really?” He repeated in your ear with a smirk as he grabbed you by the hair. “Who’s been crying out my name the whole time?” Holy shit. You instinctively braced yourself and when he resumed his hammering you knew it was a smart decision. Leon started growling even more loudly as he slowed yet deepened his movements inside of you, his hand in your hair, using your body as leverage. He was almost aggressive but you moaned nevertheless, out of breath, feeling a new orgasm building inside of you. Really? You clenched around him, trying to hold your orgasm a bit longer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction to cum around him again.

When Leon’s hard pounding started to get sloppy you realised he was really close to his release. “Jesus, I’m almost there.” He admitted. You don’t know how you found the strength to push him on his back but you did. Sitting on top of him, you removed the condom, threw it carelessly onto the floor and started to jerk him off. “I want you to cum on me.” You confessed. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat and he let himself sprawl on the mattress, leaving you in complete charge of his pleasure. You grinded against his cock as your hand kept on firmly going up and down his length. It drove Leon crazy and you soon felt him throbbing in your grip. His breath became even more ragged and jerky and small spasms took control of his body. You angled his cock towards you and soon, a hot load of thick cum spurted on your stomach and breasts as Leon cursed and grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You smiled and let go of his member, proud and satisfied of your work, looking at poor panting Leon who had a beautiful yet exhausted smile on his face. “You killed me, woman.” He joked and you briefly laughed. Then, you wiped his cum off your body with your fingers and brought them to your mouth, sucking them eagerly and swallowing the white seed looking right in Leon’s eyes. You had the feeling he would find it very hot. “Jesus Christ” Bull’s eye!

He circled you with his strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His heart was beating wildly and you allowed yourself to huddle a bit more against him to enjoy the melody. Post-coital cuddling session? Not sure that was a good idea but you decided to go for it and so did Leon as he chose to burry his nose in your hair and kiss the top of your head.

“Scott” He whispered sleepily. You looked up, wondering what he meant. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for. Leon Scott Kennedy.”

Scott? You repeated in your head with a soft smile. Oh well, that didn’t sound so bad even though, right now, you preferred Leon ‘Stay’ Kennedy.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re2 remake leon #re2 remake #resident evil #fanfic #one shot

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afairytalestray · 4 years ago

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Cassandra (ft. Casslonzo)

It’s me, back on my Cats precanon hc nonsense (masterpost here). Today I come bearing Part 10(a) - Cassandra (ft, Casslonzo). I’ve spoken about Alonzo before in previous posts, so this one is more focussed on my girl Cassandra, who deserves more love. It’s Part 10(a) because it originally led into some tuggoffelees stuff, but it was getting far too long to be acceptable, so I split it in two, but they’re still kinda linked. That second part will be coming soon (possibly tomorrow)! Pls enjoy my Cassandra thoughts!

Cassandra arrives in the Junkyard after Bombalurina, Demeter, and Mistoffelees, but before Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Before that, she was alone. She was born a housecat, but was abandoned by her owners when they moved. Being left to fend for herself on the streets was terrifying, and she had to dramatically adapt to survive. She had been a rather pampered pet, but after she grew tough and cold. She learned how to fight, and she learned quickly and thoroughly. Her aloof demeanour and fighting prowess ensured that other street Cats left her well alone, and that’s how she wanted it. At one point she was approached by Macavity’s gang, but swiftly sent the two henchcats packing with some nice new scars.

Her abandonment shattered her ability to trust. She wouldn’t let anyone approach her, and would hiss and swipe at them if they did. That said, she felt so lonely all the time. She wanted friends, but she was terrified to reach out, to make herself vulnerable again. She ended up joining the Jellicles almost by accident.

Alonzo was out for a stroll one day when he saw an elegant brown Queen locked in confrontation with two much larger Toms. He immediately moved to help her, but she angrily yelled at him to back off. Alonzo faltered, but then watched in awe as Cass fought them off. He approached her afterwards, but was roughly snapped at again - Cass snarls that she doesn’t need his help and he’d better leave her alone. Unfortunately, Alonzo was already fairly infatuated, and returned to her patch the next three days in a row to see her and try to talk to her. To this day, she can’t remember how he managed to get her name. Cass figured that he was just stubborn - there was no way he would actually care for real. However, Alonzo’s insistent presence turned out to be a lifesaver. During her fight, one of the other Cats managed to get a bite in, which then got infected. Cass grew fevery and weak, and on the fourth day of Alonzo’s visits, she collapsed while yelling at him.

Alonzo didn’t hesitate in running her to Jellylorum and Jennyanydots - the Jellicle tribe healers. They were able to fight off the infection and clean the wound on her leg, but Cass was a very difficult patient - withdrawn and untrusting. She was sentenced to bedrest, but continually tried to escape - but she never got very far before her leg would give out. The longer she stayed, the more fond of Jelly and Jenny she grew, but still couldn’t trust them. Eventually, when she was able to leave, Alonzo knew he couldn't stop her, but he asked her to stay anyway; he’d been to visit her every day in the medical den, and despite herself she’d come to enjoy his company. But the thought of trusting the tribe (and him) was too much for her, and she left. That was, until one day when she overheard two of Macavity’s henchcats plotting to invade the Junkyard. She let them leave, reluctantly convincing herself that the Jellicles would be just fine, until she couldn’t. She returned to the Junkyard under the guise of making sure the Cats who were kind to her were alright, but then she saw one of the henchcats injure Alonzo, who was on patrol, and she went absolutely ape shitt.

Afterwards, she hung around to see him properly taken care of - during which Alonzo, on a painkiller-induced high, told her he loved her, and then immediately proceeded to forget he’d done so, of course. It was actually Munkustrap who convinced her to give the Jellicles a chance. As Alonzo’s best friend, he visited him a lot while he was recovering, and had lots of chances to try and talk with the mysterious Queen Alonzo was so taken with. Although he didn’t know her past, he correctly assumed that she distanced herself because she’d been hurt, and he knows what it’s like to be abandoned by someone you care about. He told her the Junkyard would always be open to her no questions asked, should she want it - they owed her one for saving Alonzo, and that she’d always be welcome/have a place there, and actually if she wanted to stay and be a protector then that would be great because they were rather short-staffed, so she’d more than earn her keep. He emphasised that the Jellicles look after their own, they’re a family, which spoke to her lonely soul. He also dropped some mega hints that Alonzo very much meant what he said. He gave Cass the push she needed to (tentatively) decide to stay.

Alonzo helped Cassandra to settle into the Junkyard, and assisted her when she decided to start protector training. Although Cassandra could easily kick his ass, she allowed it because he’s actually quite sweet and helpful and not condescending about it. (Alonzo is also very aware of this, but uses it as an excuse to be close). Cassandra had been on her own for a while, and was unaccustomed to the amount of kindness the Jellicles showed her. It takes her a while to settle in fully. She’s still quite a solitary and private Cat, but becomes fiercely loyal to her new tribe, once she’s convinced they’d never abandon her. She’s closest with Jenny, Jelly, Munk, Victoria and Misto, and of course Alonzo. Victoria and Misto are two of her favourite Cats due to their quieter nature compared to that of the more boisterous Jellicles. Actually, surprisingly, she gets really excited about Misto’s magic, like, out-of-character kind of excitement. Her whole face lights up like a kitten’s when he does anything. Later on, when Misto is more comfortable using his magic around other Cats, Cass is always keen to help out. Alonzo melts inside at how pure it all is. Cassandra doesn’t let on, but she worked really hard to build a relationship with Alonzo’s siblings, as she knows how much he loves them.

Her relationship with Alonzo is something of a slow burn. Alonzo has a tendency to (unintentionally) bring out her softer side, which is something that freaks her out at first. However, she can’t help but like him. He’s always genuine when he speaks to her. Sure, he puffs himself up sometimes like a peacock, but it’s usually to try and make her laugh (she doesn’t laugh often enough in his opinion). The two of them never really have a whole confession/ask each other out type thing, they kind of just fall into it and wake up one day and realise they’re in a relationship. Alonzo is the first Cat Cassandra trusts, enough to tell him about her abandonment. He opens up to her as well, confiding to her his fears that he’ll never be able to salvage a relationship with his younger half brother Mistoffelees. She helps him work through some of his guilt, and he helps her open up to the others more.

To Alonzo’s dismay, Cassandra is very fond of Tugger. She jokes that it’s for purely shallow reasons, but the truth is that Tugger always goes out of his way to make her feel included and wanted, like she’s a real part of the group. This is still something she struggles with a bit, and she tends to hang back at times, unsure. Neither of them ever talk about it, but when Tugger comes to her for help, she jumps at the chance to repay him.

#my headcanons #cats the musical #cassandra #casslonzo #alonzo #Munkustrap #a better wingman than you might have thought

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haillenarte · 4 years ago

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white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days!

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea.

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help...

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name.

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof!

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun.

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

267 notes · View notes

wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

Text

Of All the Places

Chapter 4

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki continues to struggle with his emotions as he tries to figure out his bond with you. On top of all that stress, he finally learns what the rest of the world is hearing about New York. Chapter Warnings: long, angsty, and fluffy A/N: Woohoo! Fourth chapter is here! Totaling almost 5,000 words, the longest thing I have written to date. Any comments, questions, or predictions? I’d love to hear them and chat with you! Well, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, hope you enjoy :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki hadn’t slept well in days. Between nightmares and dreams of you, his mind was a constant hub of activity. He didn’t need as much sleep as you mortals did, but after the whole ordeal with Thanos, the lack of rest was taking a toll on him. You were the first to notice, and started hovering even more than normal, something Loki was reluctant to admit he liked. In his final days on Asgard, he’d made himself a complete loner, going so far as to isolate himself from Frigga. It was nice to have some companionship again. That was as far as Loki ever let his mind wander, though, cutting himself off before he could deeper analyze the constant pull he felt toward you. Certainly there wasn’t even anything else to analyze anyway, he convinced himself. You were, after all, only human.

Before he could get lost in thought again, Loki refocused on Matt’s caramel blonde hair as he chased him between the barn and the house. The boy’s light curls were the only thing he’d inherited from his father and looked almost exactly like Ana otherwise. It made Loki wonder how he never guessed he was adopted, seeing as he looked nothing like either of his parents. This fresh air was really starting to get to him, he decided, because he was continuously going down these deep contemplative paths in his mind. It was a constant loop of his feelings for you, his true heritage, and how he was taking advantage of your family. Then again, it may have been the traumatic, near-death experiences and hours of torture that was doing this to him. That was the one thing he always liked to forget about.

“Tag, you’re it!” Loki cheered as he tapped Matt.

The challenge in this game, for Loki at least, was not to overtake Matt’s strides too quickly. It was the perfect balance of fake chasing and finding just the right moment to execute the tagging. Still, he was having almost as much fun as the child was.

“Now you’re it!” Matt declared a few minutes later when Loki let the boy catch up to him.

If there was anything to admire about the kid, it was his tireless energy. Loki was glad to have found someone to keep pace with him as far as that went. His mind, too, was kept plenty stimulated by late-night talks with you. Ever since you’d showed him the creek a few days ago, you seemed to talk into the wee hours of the morning. He’d never noticed before just how deep and intelligent mortals could be. It was quite the accomplishment that you were changing so many of his opinions in such a short time. Then he realized he was thinking of you yet again and cut off the train of thought before it could persist.

“Loki. Matt,” Ana called, waving at them from the front porch.

After scooping the boy up in his arms, Loki jogged over to where she was standing. Matt was happily transferred to his mother’s arms as he was carried into the kitchen for snack time. The God of Mischief looked out over your land, trying to give in to the feeling of contentment he was so close to achieving. If only he didn’t constantly have that voice in his head telling him he was a monster, he didn’t belong here. Maybe then he could be happy. A part of him wished he’d lost his memory for real.

“Oh, there you are,” you said, walking out of the house. “I’m heading into town if you want to come with me and see if anything jogs your memory.”

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

As the two of you made your way to the car, you repeatedly tossed and caught your keys in a nervous pattern. Loki held the door open for you as you got in and quickly hurried around to the other side. He stared at a weird strap by his seat as he sat down. You saw his look of befuddlement and couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

“Do you not remember how to use a seatbelt?” you asked kindly as he nodded his head yes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you came from an alien planet.”

Then you reached across his seat to buckle him in. Unfortunately, it was a bit farther than you realized, and you fell into Loki, hand splayed on his chest, his hands immediately reaching out to steady you. For a minute, the only sound in the vehicle was your pounding hearts. You cleared your throat in embarrassment as you finished your task. The air between you held a distinct awkwardness, and Loki realized that this was the first time you’d been truly alone since the creek. It sent a thrill down his spine, even as he tried to ignore his racing thoughts. Determined to look anywhere but in your direction, his eyes landed on Mama, scowling in the window. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t keen on him spending so much time with you and Matt. If he was any smarter, any braver, he would listen to her and just leave already.

“So,” you began, clearing your throat again and driving off, “how are you feeling today?”

“I am quite well, thank you. I do believe I am fully healed.”

“Promise to still take it easy, ok?”

“Alright.”

You lapsed into silence as you cruised along the road. Loki stared out the window, hoping to find some clarity in the scenery streaking by. You were a mortal, he should not have felt any sort of attachment to you. Then again, he hadn’t spent time with one since the Middle Ages. It had all been so dreadfully dull back then, but things had changed. You and your family were so exuberant, so captivating. But he was a god, and he should not concern himself with that. In fact, he should be on his way of this planet, which was maybe not so miserable, after all.

Before long, you reached town and pulled into a small parking lot of a building with a sign that said “24 Hour Convenience Store” and had many light-up neon signs, declaring they were open. You got out and Loki followed suit.

“Anything look familiar yet?” you asked. “I know you don’t live here, but maybe you passed through.”

Lying was his specialty, and it’s what he should have done now. He could hear himself in his head, his silver tongue weaving a tale about how things were coming back to him. Then he could pretend to contact someone and create an illusion, so you believed he had a happy reunion with his family. It would be prefect; he would leave and you wouldn’t worry about him. He truly wanted to believe it would perfect, anyway, but it wasn’t. Not if he never saw you again. There must be something special about you, he decided, and the Tesseract brought him here so he could figure it out. That was it. That had to be it.

“I am afraid not,” he replied. “Perhaps I came from the other way.”

“Yeah, maybe. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” you comforted him with a hug, mistaking the reason for his sadness.

His body went stiff in your embrace. He hadn’t been hugged in centuries. Granted, that was in part his fault because he was afraid receiving hugs from his mother would hurt his carefully crafted image. Now here you were, holding his body against your warm frame. Once his mind cleared a bit, he awkwardly hugged you, too, and gave your back a few uncertain pats. He should not have been encouraging this behavior, but he was. Maybe if he caused some mischief he’d feel more like his old self. Or maybe he didn’t want to be that person anymore. It was all too much. He was exhausted by the incessant back and forth of his thoughts. He untangled himself from you and gestured to the store.

“After you,” he said.

You pushed open the glass doors and were greeted by the cashier as you walked in. Loki followed you to the back where the refrigerator section was, and he chivalrously held the milk that you’d come to pick up. You also grabbed some coffee grounds and then proceeded to checkout. After setting down the items on the counter, Loki turned over a chocolate bar in his hands, feeling like a child as you took it out of his hands and put it down with the other items. You grabbed a few other bars too, flashing a smile at Loki and keeping up a conversation with the clerk all the while.

“And who’s your new friend?” the cashier, whose name tag said Mr. Berkeley, asked you.

“This is Loki. He’s staying with me until... Well for a while,” you finished, not sure how much Loki felt comfortable revealing.

“Where’re you from, sonny?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot remember. It seems I had some kind of horrid accident,” Loki explained before you could fret anymore. He was very tired of being called son by people when he was a thousand years their senior, though. “I was very lucky to have found my way onto their farm.”

“Well, that’s quite a story. You should talk to the newspaper, get the word out.”

You shot an “I told you so” look at Loki to which he responded with one that said, “We’ll talk about this later.” Before either of you could say anything, though, the news came on the TV which Loki hadn’t realized was on.

“Do you have cable back?” you inquired as Loki began to panic. “It’s still out on the farm.”

“Nah. I got a satellite on the roof. Just got it set up again this morning.

You nodded along as the anchors began the next story. “New York is still reeling from damage, but the group of superheroes, going by the name of the Avengers, is leading clean-up efforts. The perpetrator has still not been caught-”

Loki discreetly turned the TV off with his powers before you could hear any more. He’d have to make sure the satellite took significant damage before leaving.

“Dang it. I just fixed that damned thing,” the cashier said.

“What was that all about?” you asked, completely bewildered by the sudden influx of information. “What happened in New York?”

“I guess you missed it in the paper last week,” Mr. Berkeley explained. “Some crazy group of aliens attacked, led by some power hungry god. Supposedly it was Thor’s brother, but they haven’t disclosed that information yet. Reckon they want to wait until he’s caught, avoid a panic.”

“Oh my god. That’s terrible! Gosh, you miss one paper,” you laughed, trying to keep the mood light.

A dark cloud passed over Loki’s features, even as Mr. Berkeley laughed along. Despite those SHIELD agents covering this up, word had still gotten out in some capacity. He had to be careful, or else he was going to get caught, and then you’d be in danger. He cursed under his breath. Your safety should be the last thing he was worrying about, and yet it was the first thought to come into his mind. A little kindness thrown his way should not make him into the mess he was. Of course, there were so many other things to like about you, too, and he kept finding more. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want any of this, but the Norns were punishing him for something. What would have happened, he wondered, if he’d listened to Thor and just held on that fateful day? If he hadn’t let go of the staff and fallen to what should have been his ultimate demise?

“Sonny, are you alright?” Mr. Berkeley asked as you laid a hand on his arm.

“Fine, but I think we should be going. I’ll meet you outside.”

He jerked away from your touch before you could do anything else and stalked outside. At least the satellite was hanging half off the roof with a huge dent in its side. He opened his door and got into the car as you unlocked it and raced over to him.

“Loki! Loki!” you called as you hurried over. “What was that? Are you ok?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all. Can’t you see I’m fine?” he snapped, struggling with the seatbelt. “I’m fine,” he whispered again.

“Hey, look at me,” you soothed, filled with compassion and placing a hand on his cheek. “Whatever it is, just let me know. I’m here for you. Talk to me.”

Loki’s eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed the warmth from your palm. He let go of the seatbelt and took a few deep breaths, just like his mother had taught him. A part of him wanted to hang onto this anger, knowing that it might finally drive him to leave. He knew from experience, though, that acting in moments of blind rage would never lead to anything good.

“Is it New York? Did you remember something?” you gasped. “You had felt it was important in some way.”

“Perhaps,” he said after one last steadying breath. “It may have triggered something. But really, I am just a little tired. Maybe I am not as healed as I thought.”

He turned his head away and rested it against the window as your hand dejectedly fell into your lap. It’s not that he wanted to pull away, but he knew it’s what was safest for you.

“Ok then. We’ll go home.”

Loki whispered his thanks and succeeded in buckling up. He closed his eyes as the car started and a wave of emotions crashed over him. When you said home, he immediately pictured the farm. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did.

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

Loki holed himself up in his room for the rest of the day, working through the new information he’d learned. He pretended to be asleep when Ana came to bring him some dinner. Notably, you had not been the one taking care of him, and he cursed himself for pushing you away. He didn’t even bother trying to convince himself it was for the best; he knew it wasn’t. After so many years on his own, he finally had a friend, and he drove you away. Why he expected anything less from himself, he didn’t know.

At some point, he fell into a restless sleep. The food from last night was still on the bedside table, but it was now joined with the Snickers bar you’d bought for him yesterday. Someone had also come and tucked him in. Maybe he hadn’t lost his friend, after all. He opened the chocolate and took a bite, delighting in the sweet and nutty flavor. He polished it off, then waved a hand over the rest of the food, causing it to disappear. He wasn’t much in the mood for eating it, but didn’t want you to worry. He nearly ran into John as he walked into the hallway with the empty tray.

“There you are!” John exclaimed. “We were getting worried. Do you need the doctor?”

“No, I am quite alright, thank you. I think I just needed some good sleep,” Loki lied.

“Only if you’re sure. Take it easy today, though, ok?”

“That’s an order,” you said, appearing behind your brother-in-law and taking the tray from Loki. “Are you hungry? You missed breakfast, but I can heat up some leftovers from you.”

“I am fine,” Loki began, but noticed you frown. “Though, I suppose I could do with a small breakfast.”

“Great!” you said a little too brightly. “I’ll meet you down there.”

“Loki, can I talk to you for a minute?” John asked, pulling him aside. “What exactly happened yesterday? We heard about New York, but it seemed like there was something else bothering them.”

Loki felt a pang in his chest at the man’s words. As if the news weren’t upsetting enough, he’d been rude to you. He could only imagine how you would feel if you knew he was the one who had caused the mayhem. He wanted to pin the blame on someone else, but the blood was on his hands and he knew he had to take some responsibility. Doing that would help him change, which he recognized was absolutely necessary after all that had happened.

“I fear I may have upset them,” Loki started, shedding his old ways by telling the truth. “I was not feeling quite right, and I turned them away. Now they clearly blame themself for it. I deeply regret it, but I am not sure there is anything I can do.”

“Just talk to them. Apologize.”

Loki did his best not to look shocked, but the last time he said sorry was when his parents caught him playing tricks on Thor, and even then it was done begrudgingly. He wasn’t even sure he could make it sound sincere.

“Listen, I’ve got an idea,” John said. “We’re heading to the city today if you want to tag along. They’re off to get some gifts for Ana while I’ve got a few potential distributors to meet with. I’m sure they would be thrilled to have your company. Unless you’re not feeling well, of course.”

“No, I’m feeling fine. That is a great idea. You have my thanks, John.”

“No problem. Now, you’d better head down for breakfast before we both get in trouble,” he laughed.

With a final nod of gratitude, Loki took off down the stairs. His light footsteps went undetected as he neared the table, once again giving him the opportunity to eavesdrop on Mama’s suspicions.

“I know something else must’ve happened yesterday. You weren’t upset over nothing.”

“It’s just the New York thing,” you replied. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You tell me what that boy did right now or so help me I’ll kick him out of this house myself!”

“Mama! He didn’t do anything wrong. I get that what happened with James hurts, believe me I do, but you can’t let it run your life. You have to be able to trust others, to trust me,” you pleaded.

“How dare you drag your brother into this,” Mama shot back, her voice cracking. “How ’bout you trust my gut when it tells me that boy is trouble. I swear-”

She was cut off by Loki doubling back and thudding down the stairs, making his presence known. He’d heard more than enough of that conversation and wouldn’t allow you to feel any more hurt than you already were.

“Good morning,” he coldly said to Mama as he walked in, nostrils flaring slightly before he regained some composure. “I am not interrupting anything, am I.”

“Only our entire lives. Why don’t you go to the police, huh? And what about the missing person ad? Why haven’t we gotten that out yet? I don’t know what game your playing, but when I figure it out, believe me you’ll be sorry.”

“Fine! You want to know what I am doing here? I do not know. I have no idea why I ended up here or why I have stayed as long as I have. So when you ‘figure it out,’ by all means, please let me know.”

“Fine!” Mama shouted as she stormed off.

Loki was comforted by the fact that in his little outburst, he hadn’t technically told any lies to you. Half-truths? Most certainly, but no outright lies. Now that he was left alone with you, though, he felt embarrassed he lost his temper. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I am sorry,” he said, not looking at you.

“Loki, you don’t have to say sorry for defending yourself. I understand.”

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for,” he confessed, now looking into your eyes. “Yesterday I was not feeling quite right, but I should not have snapped at you nor pushed you away like that. For that, you have my sincerest apologies.

“It’s really ok, it happens to everyone. I just care that you’re feeling alright.”

You stayed where you were standing, still hesitant to move toward Loki out of fear of being rejected again. So, it fell upon Loki to close the distance between you. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss to your knuckles as a light blush coated his cheeks.

“Thank you, darling. I assure you, I am feeling more than alright now.”

Whatever was about to happen between you next was cut off by the beeping of the microwave. You finished putting together his breakfast before sitting with him at the island. Though your relationship had been repaired, the conversation was still a bit choppy and awkward as you found your footing in the friendship again. John walked in just as you were cleaning up, whistling a happy tune.

“Ready to go whenever you guys are,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You’re coming?” you asked Loki, feeling worried for his health. “Are you sure you’re up for that? I can even stay behind with you if u want.”

“Please, do not change your plans on my account. I am in a great condition to go.”

You still seemed reluctant, but agreed he could come as long as he let you know the second he started feeling unwell. He conceded, and you went to fetch your jacket with the promise you’d be back in a minute. John gave Loki a thumbs up, to which he replied with a very self-assured smile, bolstered with confidence by your latest exchange.

A few minutes later you were all piling into the car, with Loki insisting you took the passenger seat and that he’d ride in the back. He was very pleased to get the seatbelt buckled on the first try, and the two of you shared a laugh at the little inside joke. His cheeks burned slightly, remembering how you’d fallen against him. Over the next few hours, you passed time by talking, laughing, and singing along to the radio. Just as you were entering the city, a troubling thought occurred to Loki; the people here had heard the news. Even if it hadn’t been officially announced that he was responsible for New York, those rumors about him had to have included a description. Sudden inspiration struck as John parked the car.

“You don’t happen to have a hair tie in here, do you?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” you replied, reaching into the glove compartment. “Ana keeps some in here for emergencies.”

Loki thanked you as you passed it to him and quickly put his hair up in a low bun. When he turned his attention back to you, you were staring at him, and he gave you a charming, lopsided grin that had you ducking your head in embarrassment.

“Ok,” John said with a clap of his hands once you were all on the sidewalk. “We’ll meet here in, say, about 5 hours.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, before waving goodbye.

Now it was just you and Loki again as you took off towards some stores to look at some baby gifts for Ana. It would still be half a year before the baby arrived, but you were always indecisive when it came to purchasing gifts. On the way, Loki ducked into a small shop and bought a pair of sunglasses, furthering his disguise. Between that, the new clothes, and the different hairstyle, he felt pretty confident in his ability to blend in.

After two-and-a-half hours of shopping, you’d found a bunch of things to maybe get, but hadn’t decided on anything. You would go back and look some more, but you were bone tired after all the walking around. The fact that you were so exhausted made you concerned for Loki’s condition, too, not entirely trusting that he would tell you if he was feeling ill, despite his promise to.

“How are you holding up?” you cautiously asked, afraid of a repeat of yesterday if you pushed too hard.

“I am doing quite well. You, however, seem to need to stop for a spell. Come, let us rest for a minute.”

He led you over to the food court of the mall you were at and pulled out a chair for you to sit in. He glanced around at the options and, though there was nothing there that appealed to him, there was certainly something that you liked. Besides, he didn’t need to eat, but your frail mortal body would need some sustenance sooner rather than later.

“Can I get something for you to eat?” he offered.

“How about we go see a movie instead?” you proposed, eyeing up the nearby theater.

“Only if you eat something.”

“Wow. Look at how the tables have turned,” you laughed. “Fine, but you have to also.”

After a minute’s debate, you and Loki agreed on a comedy starring your favorite actor. It wouldn’t have been Loki’d first pick, but after all the stress and angst of the last 24 hours, he figured he could use a laugh. You also convinced him to try some popcorn and Pepsi. He wasn’t much a fan of the soda, but the snack was tasty enough. Though, you did end up stealing half of his after finishing your own, which was fine with him. The best part of the whole experience, though, was getting to hear your laugh over and over again. Loki thought it might be the most beautiful sound he ever heard. Well, perhaps the best part was actually when your arms brushed each other as you both went to put them on the armrest at the same time. Loki filed away all these little mental notes to dwell on at a later date. Or, if he were lucky enough to rein in his hurricane of thoughts, never again.

“Well, that killed a lot of time,” you said after the movie ended and you were stretching out, aching from having sat for so long. “We’ve still got some left though. What do you want to do?”

“I believe there was a library over by where we parked. Let us go there,” he said, quickly thinking up a plan.

By the time you walked over, there was only about twenty minutes left for him to complete what he needed to do. He hurried over to where the computers were, and though he wasn’t particularly adept with modern Midgardian technology, the directions taped to the wall were clear enough that he was able to look up a book. He sent you off to get it, claiming that the title had just popped into his head and that he was certain he used to love it, and that he wanted to check on the status of a few others. You obliged, hoping that seeing the book would bring back some more of his supposedly lost memories.

Once you were gone Loki quickly searched for information on what he learned was being referred to as the Battle of New York. Thankfully, there was as little information about him circulating as Mr. Berkeley had said. Mostly, it was just speculation and stories from people claiming they’d been there. A great number of posts and photos had been deleted, too, and Loki assumed that they were ones with more valid claims and information. Knowing how SHIELD is, Loki was sure it was all removed almost immediately, so he felt relatively safe but decided he couldn’t be too careful.

“I found it!” you said, setting the book down as Loki closed out the tab he was on.

“Wonderful! Thank you,” he replied, flipping through it. “Most unfortunately, the other books were checked out.”

You leaned over shoulder to look at the book in his hands. “That’s too bad. What about this one, though? Triggering any memories?”

“Well, I think I enjoyed reading. Other than that, I am afraid not.”

“That’s ok. We’ll keep trying.”

Your hand slowly drifted over to rest on his, and he gave you a brilliant smile. It made him wish he’d found a friend in the universe far sooner than he had. Then maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the hands of Thanos, committing atrocities against his family and strangers alike. Then again, if none of that happened, he never would have met you. He was torn over which he preferred.

“There you guys are,” John said, walking up to where you were. “Ready to head back whenever you are.”

After putting the book back on the shelf, you were ready to leave. Loki hung back with John as you exited.

“Your plan has worked miracles, my good man. You have my sincerest gratitude,” he said.

“No problem, dude,” John said, patting Loki on the back. “Glad to bring a happy couple back together again.”

Loki’s steps faltered. Between his companion’s smirk and teasing tone, Loki knew it was meant as a joke. Mainly, anyway. John really was very off the mark, though. He and you were merely friends, nothing more. And surely that was just barely so, seeing as you were a human. There was no way you meant anything else to Loki. Right?

It wasn’t until you were back on the road, and Loki couldn’t stop looking at the back of your head, that he even began to realize just how much trouble he was in.

110 notes · View notes

wolf08 · 4 years ago

Text

Igniting the Fuse

A fic for @zutaraweek

Summary: Zuko can’t stand Katara’s obvious contempt towards him. Determined to fix their relationship, he asks Aang and Sokka for help, who, in turn, devise a series of team building exercises with the intention of sparking friendship between the water bender and the banished Prince. They hadn’t anticipated sparking something more. Pre- (and post-) Southern Raiders. Zutara.

Available on A03 and FanFiction.net.

Prompt: Loosely inspired by the prompt “Fuse” (Zutara Week 2020) Genre: Romance/Humour Words: 4293 Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of its characters.

A/N: Hi! Please accept my humble offering to the ATLA fandom for Zutara week. :) I’ve only ever written fics for the Naruto verse, but I just finished ATLA last month and have been fangirling about Zutara and the Gaang dynamics ever since. When I learned that Zutara week was just around the corner, I just knew I had to write something. Enjoy. :)

***

Igniting the Fuse

Now that he was part of the group of vagabond do-gooders (who he used to think were his sworn enemies), Zuko felt a sense of contentment and purpose like he’d never felt before.

It had been an excruciating uphill battle filled with awkward encounters and blows exchanged to finally convince them that he was on their side. But he’d persevered because Zuko just knew he was destined to be here, with them, to support their quest of defeating his father.

Thankfully, in the end, they accepted him.

Well, all except for the water bender, that is.

Katara, the last water bender from the Southern Water Tribe, who had the biggest heart and kindest smile that Zuko had ever seen, utterly despised him.

She made no effort to hide this fact, with how she always sat as far away from him as possible, sneered at his (attempted) jokes, and ignored him point-blank whenever he spoke.

As the Fire Nation’s banished Prince with a prominent scar on his face marking him as such, Zuko wasn’t unfamiliar with this type of treatment. But what made it different with Katara was that (a) she was avoiding him out of pure dislike – not fear (hell, he’d faced her in combat before and knew she could hold her own against him), and (b) it was Katara.

Why did it have to be her who hated him, of all people? She was level-headed, compassionate, and strong, in other words, she was an embodiment of everything that Zuko wished he himself could be.

And, not to mention, she was rather easy on the eyes and nice to be in the presence of (though, of course, Zuko would never dare admit this out loud).

Perhaps the worst part of all of this was that Zuko knew her hatred was justified. After she’d let her guard down in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se by confiding in him and offering to use her few drops of sacred water to heal Zuko’s scar (a gesture that Zuko would never ever forget), Zuko had responded by siding with her enemy and trying to kill her.

So, yeah, Katara had every right not to trust him ever again.

But that didn’t mean Zuko wasn’t going to give it his best shot anyways. After all, he was a changed man now. He was determined to reconcile for his sins. Earning Katara’s trust wasn’t just something he wanted – it was something he needed to fulfill his personal quest for redemption.

Not that Zuko had a clue where to begin.

After numerous fruitless attempts to force an interaction with her around camp like some school boy trying to get a girl’s attention, Zuko realized he needed help fixing his relationship with Katara.

He cast a wistful glance at Katara’s tent before turning towards the sea, where Aang and Sokka were currently fishing.

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy, black hair. Despite being a little weird, Aang and Sokka were the most helpful sources of information around, with one of them being Katara’s brother and the other being, well, the Avatar. So he slipped off his shoes, hiked up his pants, and waded out to meet them.

Their fishing tactics were a rather theatrical sight, with Anng literally blowing fish out of the water with some air bending technique and Sokka spearing them as they flung into the air.

Zuko cleared his throat.

Aang, who was wearing nothing but his orange underpants, beamed at the sight of him. “Zuko! Have you come to help us fish?” he asked. “It’s not really my thing, but Sokka needed a hand.”

Zuko shook his head, folded his arms, and proceeded to explain his dilemma. The other boys listened attentively.

“Have you tried being, well, nice to her?” Sokka asked with raised eyebrows. “Katara likes everyone. It shouldn’t be that hard to get on her good side.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Of course I’ve tried being nice! But I guess I just suck at it.”

After a moment of deep thought, Aang’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” he said, clapping his hands together. “We’ll do team building exercises to foster trust. When Katara sees that you can trust each other, I’m sure she’ll like you more.”

But Zuko wasn’t entirely convinced. “This isn’t Air Temple preschool, you know,” he grumbled.

“No, no, I think Aang’s onto something here,” Sokka said with a smirk. “No offense dude, but your social skills suck. Structured ice-breakers are exactly what you need.”

“What? My social skills don’t suck!” Zuko shot back, but Sokka just shook his head, still smirking.

Then, in a deep, mocking tone, Sokka said, “Hello! Zuko here. I sent an assassin after you. Can we be friends?”

Aang covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Zuko’s eyebrow twitched, his face burning. “Okay, fine. Let’s try your stupid team building then.”

“Great!” said Aang. “Let’s start after lunch. We’ll handle everything Zuko, so don’t you worry about a thing.”

***

In an effort to gain Katara’s support for their day of team building, Aang and Sokka selected an activity that she was sure to enjoy for the first exercise: surfing lessons – an activity that was, quite literally, right in Katara’s element.

It wasn’t a bad idea, Zuko admitted and side-eyeing Katara’s enthusiastic response to Aang’s proposal of the activity. Her blue eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.

Shortly after, the four of them, with the additions of Toph and Suki, were gathered around the shore, with the girls in their swimming attire (cropped shirts and shorts for all but Katara, who wore a white skirt overtop) and the boys in their shorts. Then, Sokka explained that there would be no surf boards.

“No surf boards? How’s that supposed to work for surfing?” Toph asked, voicing Zuko’s concerns.

Katara stood, a smile on her face. “I’ll bend the water to make you float – you’ve just got to balance,” she said. Toph raised her eyebrows and crinkled her nose and Zuko made every effort to refrain from making the same face.

The water bender proceeded to demonstrate. With her feet pressed to the rolling waves as if she were on a solid surface, she jumped and glided in a shower of water droplets, her arms outstretched, like she was sliding through snow or sand. In a way, it looked like she was dancing, Zuko observed, and he wondered if he could really do that too, so effortlessly.

The demonstration came to the end and Katara approached the group. “All right – who’s first?” she asked cheerily, while wringing water from her thick, brown hair.

Zuko avoided eye contact.

“I’ll go!” Suki beamed and hopping to her feet.

And said Kyoshi warrior, despite not being a water bender, made it look rather easy too, in Zuko’s opinion, his confidence boosting ever so slightly. Suki jumped and twirled on the water, laughing the entire time, clearly having a blast. Sokka wolf whistled as Suki neared the shore at the end of her turn. She met his eyes and blushed before leaping into his arms with a big smile.

Zuko watched the interaction from the corner of his eye and wondered if he could ever get Katara to feel that comfortable around him.

Yeah right.

Aang went next and he glided over the water with ease (though it was hard to tell if he was truly surfing or floating over the waves with air bending). Even Toph took a short turn, despite her obvious discomfort over being parted with solid ground.

“Zuko’s turn!” Aang exclaimed after everyone had gone, like he was afraid Katara would forget about him.

Zuko caught her gaze and was met with an icy stare. More like she doesn’t want me to have a turn.

He got to his feet and sloshed through the shallow water before turning to the group in anticipation.

With mixed emotions, he noticed that Katara was smiling at him now, her eyes bright once more. What’s with the sudden mood change? he wondered while returning the smile with much hesitation.

Then Katara raised her arms and he was off.

“Whoa!” he gasped, arms outstretched for balance, while the water carried him upwards and backwards, towards the sea. He pivoted and widened his stance for stability, while he adjusted to the strange sensation of a rapidly rolling current against his bare feet, and his total loss of control over where he was going.

Despite this, before long, Zuko began to relax, leaning into the waves’ winding motions, feeling a thrill with each dip and jump, as he climbed higher and higher and farther out to sea.

And then – SPLOOSH!

Like a rug being tugged from beneath his feet, the water supporting Zuko vanished, falling back to the sea – along with said fire bender.

He fell into the water in a rather undignified manner, limbs flailing. When he came up for air, spluttering, to his displeasure, just about everyone was doubled-over laughing.

Zuko gritted his teeth as he swam towards shore, glaring at the mischievous water bender.

“Oops,” she said with a shrug, though she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

Well that was a flop… literally, Zuko thought with a grimace as he trudged along the beach and shook water from his soaked hair.

Aang had the decency to try to look apologetic though tears were streaming down his face.

***

“The next activity better not end like that,” Zuko hissed when the boys regrouped. “How about we try something where she has to trust me this time? Because clearly the other way around doesn’t work.”

“Hm. Maybe you can teach everyone something. What are you good at Zuko?” Sokka asked.

“Fire bending.”

“Well, you can’t exactly teach everyone fire bending.”

“Oh, I know!” Aang piped up. “Zuko isn’t a bad dancer. He nailed the Dancing Dragon formation.”

Zuko dismissed the suggestion immediately. “That wasn’t a dance! And you’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever teach dancing lessons.”

A moment of silence passed while all three boys contemplated their next move.

“It’s probably best if I don’t hire another assassin and like… save her from it. Right?”

“Yes, Zuko. Best we table that idea.”

***

Zuko felt a little more confident about the second activity that Aang and Sokka planned for the group.

“We’re going rock climbing!” Aang exclaimed and gesturing to the ropes and makeshift pulleys he and Sokka had fastened to the cliff side earlier. For the most part, in Zuko’s opinion, this activity far exceeded the last because he and Katara would be on relatively even footing as far as their bending was concerned.

“Everybody partner up!” Sokka instructed. “I call working with Suki!”

“And I call Toph!” Aang shouted, which garnered suspicious looks from both Toph and Katara. “I thought we could work on our teamwork?” he added to the earth bender sheepishly.

Toph smirked. “Whatever you say, Twinkletoes. Gosh, I’m popular, huh?”

Through narrowed eyes, Katara directed her attention to the person she was evidently stuck with.

Zuko tried his hardest to seem friendly, though he was suddenly uncharacteristically nervous. “You can go first, if you want,” he offered.

Katara lifted an eyebrow. After a moment, she said, “All right then,” and turned towards the cliff, her braided hair flipping over her shoulder as she did.

The rock climbing ensued, with Toph practically flying up the wall while she bended parts of the cliff side to jut out like stairs. Momo was doing quite well himself from a little further down, not even holding onto the rope, though Appa dutifully spotted him anyways.

Despite not having any distinct advantages, Suki flourished in this activity too, scaling the wall like a ninja. “Atta girl, Suki!” Sokka cheered on from below. She responded with a glowing smile at her rock climbing partner.

Zuko turned his attention to his own rock climbing partner, who was faring well, though not quite as well as the other climbers. Her movements were a little clumsy and she clung to the rope and handholds like her life depended on it. After all, with each step she climbed, the water bender ventured farther away from the comfort of the sea behind them.

There was no way Zuko would let her fall though, considering the death grip he had on her rope. He needed to prove he was the most trustworthy rock climbing partner she could ever have.

Taking a page out of Sokka’s book, Zuko decided to egg his partner on. “You’re doing great!” he called.

Unfortunately, his comment prompted an icy glare. “Are you mocking me?” Katara snapped, as she freed her blue sleeve from a protruding twig that had snagged it.

“No...,” Zuko snarled through gritted teeth.

This is impossible! I can’t even compliment Katara without her getting mad!

She proceeded to climb in silence without sparing him a glance, and Zuko couldn’t think of what to say, so he just sighed and frowned in her general direction.

How on earth was this activity supposed to bring them closer together now?

She’s probably clinging to the rope for dear life because she doesn’t trust me to stop her from falling, Zuko thought with a scowl.

But then he was struck with a brilliant (and morally questionable) idea.

What if Katara’s rope were severed… for some reason… and Zuko caught her?

Now, Zuko was no expert, but saving someone from falling seemed like the ultimate gesture of trust if you asked him.

Surely Aang and Sokka would disprove if Zuko deliberately severed Katara’s rope, but she was maybe only twenty feet up – so surely, even if she did fall, she’d survive.

Before Zuko had properly thought through his plan, he’d sent a barely discernible fireball – no more than a small collection of sparks – up the cliff side. It went undetected by the others, who were focused on their rock climbing tasks.

With the softest of hisses, the fire made contact with the rope about ten feet above Katara’s head. The rope began to fray immediately but no one seemed to notice. Until –

“Whoa!” Katara exclaimed as the rope started to give. She clawed for the nearest handhold and gripped it firmly while looking around with wide eyes.

Now, Zuko thought, dropping the rope and racing towards the cliff.

By now the others were catching on to Katara’s predicament.

“Oh no, careful Katara!” called Aang.

“Hold on!” cried Suki.

“Just drop!” Zuko shouted from below, his arms outstretched. “Don’t worry – I’ll catch you!”

Katara peered down at him, like she was mentally calculating the risk of doing what he asked. When she met his eye, Zuko felt a swell of anticipation for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

Then, something determined entered Katara’s eyes and she directed her gaze beyond him, towards the sea.

The rope snapped and Katara began to fall.

Zuko braced himself for the impact, his arms at the ready.

I won’t let you down!

And then – WHOOSH!

Zuko faced an impact but it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

An aggressive current of water slammed straight into Zuko’s legs, knocking him off his feet.

“What?” he gasped as he lost his footing, toppled sideways, and fell to his back. Spluttering, he watched in disbelief as Katara bended a neat stream of water through the air, stepped into it, and directed it towards the ground to safety. She landed beside Zuko with a splash – soaking him from head to toe.

Katara straightened up and regained her composure, brushing off the front of her blue dress, as the water drifted back out to sea.

She turned to Zuko like she was just noticing him for the first time. “Oh!” she said while extending her hand. “You okay down there?” she asked, eyebrows raised and the slightest mischievous glint in her eye.

Zuko accepted her offer to help him up, but didn’t have it in him to celebrate the kind gesture – he was far too embarrassed and couldn’t meet her eye.

As soon as he was on his feet, he retreated and stomped away. “I’m fine,” he growled while shaking water out of his hair for the second time that day.

***

“The next team building exercise will be different. We’ll use our words this time,” Aang decided during a brief rendezvous with Sokka and Zuko.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zuko asked, eyebrow raised.

“You’ll see – I’ve got a plan. Just make sure you’re sitting beside Katara when we gather round the campfire after dinner. Trust me.” He patted Zuko’s shoulder and flashed him what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but given their track record with team building exercises thus far, Zuko didn’t feel so confident.

“Fine,” he said anyways because he didn’t have anything to lose.

***

True to his word, after the sun had set, bellies were full, and Aang had summoned everyone to the campfire, Zuko claimed the spot beside Katara, even though he had to wrestle Toph in the process of squeezing in between them.

Katara gave Zuko a weird look and motioned to get up.

He grabbed her sleeve. “Wait – stay here,” he said before he could think better of it (and immediately regretting the motion).

She startled and opened her mouth to respond, but thankfully, Aang chose that moment to command everyone’s attention and start the activity. Zuko released a breath.

It turned out the activity was rather simple. Each person was required to share a compliment about the person on their right – and once everyone had a turn, they were to repeat the exercise in the other direction.

Zuko was skeptical about the cheesy activity having any effect on his relationship with Katara but he figured he might as well try.

He frowned and glanced at Katara, who was on his right, noticing the firelight dancing in her blue eyes. He would have to share a compliment with her first.

I’ve got one shot so I need to think of something good, Zuko mused while absently bending the flames from the campfire into little loops.

His first thought was to comment on her water bending, which was quite good as far as he’d seen. But would that just remind her of the times she’d used her water bending against him?

Then what could he say about her to get her to like him?

It was Sokka’s turn to pay a compliment to Suki.

He turned to the brunette Kyoshi warrior with a wide smile and an arched eyebrow, and said, smoothly, “Suki, you are as radiant as the sunset.”

Suki’s face lit up and her lips curved into a shy smile. “Oh, Sokka,” she sighed and shoving his arm lightly, in a friendly, teasing manner.

That’s it! That’s the reaction I want from Katara, Zuko thought, his chest tightening at the very prospect of it, but would complimenting her physical appearance have that effect on her? He wasn’t sure.

By the time Zuko tuned back in to the activity, Aang was telling Toph that she was the most terrifying girl he’d ever met.

Zuko watched the exchange in anticipation for surely the earth bender would take offense to the remark. But instead, she punched Aang’s arm and beamed. “Thanks, Twinkletoes!”

Would Katara want to be called terrifying? Honestly, Zuko thought she was the farthest thing from terrifying (unless she was really angry). No, Azula was terrifying. And Katara was… well, not like Azula.

Toph turned to Zuko next, gazing up at him with a cheeky smile. “Oh, this is easy. Thanks for the entertainment in the water today. I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks!”

Zuko bristled with anger for a moment, but when he realized everyone was chuckling, and he remembered that he would much rather them find him funny than evil, he swallowed his pride and smiled. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

“Okay, Zuko’s turn!” Aang prompted, and then, suddenly, everyone was starting at him expectantly.

Zuko swallowed. “Okay,” he said before turning towards Katara, whose arms were folded and was watching him from the corner of her eye.

Here goes, Zuko thought. He said the first thing that popped into his head, inspired by Sokka’s earlier success.

“You’re… as beautiful as the… ocean?”

Now, Zuko wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but, strangely, no one seemed to react at all. In fact, the entire group was eerily silent, their eyes trained on him, including Katara’s.

Suddenly, Zuko felt nervous. I did something wrong, didn’t I?

He turned towards Sokka for support, but only then, to Zuko’s horror, did he notice that Sokka and Suki’s hands were clasped together.

Is Suki his… girlfriend?

That hadn’t occurred to Zuko, honestly. He’d dismissed the idea because surely Suki was too good for the guy.

But maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were so close because they were dating. And maybe, by mimicking Sokka’s behaviour, Zuko had inadvertently suggested that he wanted to date Katara.

He felt his face heat up.

I could use some of Uncle’s calming tea right about now.

Then, Katara was on her feet. She avoided eye-contact when she growled, “Really? Don’t have anything to say about my abilities, do you? I’m just some damsel in distress to you, huh?”

And then she stormed off, effectively ending the team building exercise. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

I should have just called her terrifying.

He followed her.

***

Katara was perched on a rock near the ledge of the cliff, overlooking the sea and star-sprinkled night sky. She was hugging her knees and her shoulders were slumped.

Zuko approached with caution. “Hi,” he said when he was within earshot.

Katara glanced at him and turned away quickly.

He sighed.

Why do I suck at everything?

“Um, let me try the compliment thing again,” Zuko mumbled, not sure how much Katara was paying attention to him but going for it anyways. “My uncle taught me how to control lightning using the principles of water bending. I never really thought about water bending much, but since then, and since I saw what you can do, now I appreciate it more. It’s a… beautiful ability. And it’s strong. Like you.

“And that’s… what I’m trying to say.”

Katara glanced at him again, and to his relief, there was something kinder in her eyes.

This encouraged him to continue. “And I’m sorry for everything I did before. Please tell me how to make it up to you because I’m trying but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

After a moment, Katara’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. She turned towards the sea. “You could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King. Or bring my mother back,” she said sadly with a humourless chuckle, like what she was proposing was ridiculous. She buried her face into her knees.

Later that evening, after a brief consultation with Sokka about the story of his mother’s death, Zuko made plans for what would end up being the most effective team building exercise yet.

***

Many days later, Zuko found himself standing on a dock overlooking the ocean and a sunset painting the sky a glowing medley of pinks and oranges.

He had just returned to camp after a long trek with Katara to track down her mother’s killer, with the intention of executing revenge, but Katara ended up sparing him in the end – while still finding the closure she needed.

Zuko had learned more about Katara’s motivations and abilities on the trip, including her impressive repertoire of water bending feats.

To put it frankly, Zuko had no shortage of compliments to give her if they ever played that campfire circle game again.

And now that he understood Katara better he was filled with hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate him anymore. Though he wasn’t completely sure.

Katara was sitting at the end of the dock with her toes dipped in the water. Aang was beside her and speaking about the importance of forgiveness.

She got to her feet and faced the two of them. “Thanks Aang, but I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.”

And then she turned towards Zuko, a smile blossoming on her face. Zuko’s breath caught in his throat.

“But you,” she said and drawing closer, “I am willing to forgive.”

Before he knew quite what was happening, Katara pulled him into a tight hug. Zuko was startled at first – hardly able to believe what was happening.

I did it! he thought in awe, thinking back to how envious he had been of Suki jumping into Sokka’s arms on the beach.

He smiled in spite of himself and returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, his heart racing.

But then, abruptly, Katara retreated. She stared at Zuko from a short distance away, looking positively radiant in the light of the sunset. A strange expression crossed her features. Embarrassment? Anxiousness? Zuko wasn’t sure. But then –

“I’m not flirting or anything, you know,” she said.

Not… what?

Katara seemed to remember that her hands were still on Zuko’s shoulders and pulled them back quickly. “I forgive you and that’s – that’s it!”

Zuko was still processing her words when she scurried past him, down the dock.

He gaped at her retreating form. “What was that about?” he asked.

Aang, who had been hanging back from the exchange, approached. One of his eyebrows was distinctly twitching. “Well, after the team building exercise around the campfire, everyone thinks that you… well, you know.”

Oh.

Zuko put his head in his hands, face burning. Something told him he was going to need a lot of help, and maybe even a new round of team building exercises, to figure out this new development in his and Katara’s relationship.

#zutara week 2020 #zutara week #zutara #zutara fanfiction #atla fanfic #zuko #atla #wolf08fic #my first atla fic #loved every second writing this

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egg-shark · 4 years ago

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On Writing Horror

Over quarantine, I began devouring horror. “Can’t be bored if you’re too scared to fall asleep,” I’d say, and I read book after book after book. And, inevitably, as one does, I fell into the trap of writing horror for myself.

Recently I sent an excerpt from a story to my friend, who replied by saying that the piece had left her physically shaking (I still feel bad about this, btw). She then proceeded to ask how to go about writing so as to terrify her own readers.

At first I thought bold of you to assume I know what I’m doing. But then I did a bit of thinking about it and I realized that in the horror pieces that have had the most effect on me, there’s an underlying pattern. Once you get a hold on that pattern, the writing of horror itself becomes so much simpler to execute.

So I thought I’d write up a little something that explains my process in five simple steps.

I won’t go super in depth because honestly, I’m not the one you should go to for advice on this sort of thing. I merely thought I’d share what has been helpful to me and from my experience, what seems to work to convey the intended emotions to my audience.

So without further ado, here’s how I write horror.

1. Read horror.

Pretty self-explanatory, huh?

Yes, yes, groan, but you know what I’m getting at here. If you have no reference to work from, it will make the job a whole lot harder. Pick up a book or two, flip through it, and note what makes you, as the reader, afraid. If nothing speaks to you, take that into account too. Make note of what you find frightening and what you find boring, and incorporate the former into your writing.

2. Step into the mind of the character.

This step and the two that follow are very closely linked, so listen up.

I’ve spent countless hours in theatre, working on character development and representation, so I’d like to say I know a little bit about what I’m talking about here. The point is, you have to walk the proverbial mile in your character’s shoes. Put yourself in their position, in their mindset, with their background and opinions and viewpoints. Imagine yourself as that character and forget who you are for a moment. Stand where they stand.

This part can be tricky, because you’ll have to know what makes your characters tick and you’ll have to know this intimately. You can’t simply write the character; you have to be the character (if only for the moment) and write what you see from their eyes.

3. Identify your own worst fear.

While seemingly unrelated, this is key. In order to know your characters intimately and know their own fears like the back of your hand, you must first understand your own. It could be anything from a paralyzing fear of spiders to the fear of failure or the fear of the unknown.

But sometimes it’s hard to know exactly what you’re most afraid of. In this scenario, I’ve found that most often, what you value the most is directly correlated your worst fear. Take the Winchester brothers from Supernatural for example. Dean loves his brother more than anything, and would (quite literally) do anything for him… but this also means that Dean’s greatest fear is losing Sam. When that fear is realized in the second season, Dean sacrifices something he never would have considered in his wildest nightmares… just to get Sam back.

Horror isn’t called horror because it has a happy ending. It’s not called horror because you’re scared but then everything turns out okay. It’s not called horror because the fear passes and the characters end up safe. Horror is horrifying because the audience is made to relate to the character’s fear and then is forced to confront that fear in the most uncomfortable way possible.

Horror is about the confrontation of fear, face-to-face, with nothing to protect you.

For people-pleasers, a greatest fear might include letting someone down. That in itself can have horrifying connotations… what happens if you mess up and something goes wrong?

For some people, their fear is helplessness. So make them helpless and trapped.

For some people, their fear is ignorance. So bury them in the dark and hide everything from them.

For some people, their fear is failure. So destroy them piece by piece and leave them in a hole with no way to climb back out.

If you don’t feel fear, your audience won’t either. So find your worst fear, and connect your emotion behind it to your characters… which leads to our next point.

4. Write honestly.

Part of what makes authors like Stephen King so great at his craft is because he seizes emotions he has felt and twists them to the ultimate degree. Pick up any one of his books, and most often there is a child involved in the plot somewhere… and this is King writing honestly because of his own children. As a father, he needs them to be alright, he needs them to be safe. Normally, this is a sweet sentiment, but we’re talking horror. In horror, everything is twisted. You take what you love most, and then in writing, you tear it away. From there, opportunities are endless and often the question is posed:

How far is your character willing to go to get what they lost back?

Go read Pet Sematary sometime. (And people wonder why I hate cats… smh)

*Once you’ve gotten the hang of writing honestly, plug yourself back into your character’s perspective and continue to write honestly… from their point of view.

5. Make the intangible tangible.

This sounds way more confusing than it has to be, believe me. But it’s rather simple. Take the SPN example from above: Dean’s fear of losing Sam is intangible, but it becomes very tangible when Sam dies in his arms. In a current WIP of mine, my MC is a resistance fighter; so to turn the tide, I have her infiltrate the government as a spy… where she is forced to watch everything they are doing and unable to stop them. Her fear is that the government will have utmost power, so I give it that power and strip her of every ounce of control she had against it.

Say a character’s worst fear in the unknown. This is incredibly vague… but that’s where the fun part comes in. Throw them into a world that’s new and different and wrong in ways they can’t fathom… or better yet, take a page from King’s The Mist and have that strange world come to them.

Tldr; Write horror from what you know. Take your own experiences, your own past trauma or your worst nightmares, and you write those. Write to scare yourself, and you’ll end up terrifying your audience. If you as the author know what’s coming and are still scared, you sure as hell are going to frighten someone who has no idea what they’re walking into behind that door.

Feel free to let me know what else you’ve found to be helpful in writing horror!

Guys, this is my first how-to and I tried. Feel free to hit me up with any questions if I was unclear in any way or you have something else you’d like me to write about.

PS. I’d like to thank Neil Gaiman for ruining buttons for me, and to thank Dean Koontz for making me scared of rain (was that really necessary?). And I’d also like Stephen King to know that I will never forgive him for The Gunslinger. Ever.

#writeblr #horror #how to write

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theravenclawmonster · 4 years ago

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I thought getting diagnosed would be able to get me help...(post 2 of dunno how many)

The previous post of this series of posts can be found in this link post 1

Trigger warning: This post (and the later continuation posts after it titled the same) may contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, suicidal thoughts and many more things which i will try to edit in it after writing the post(s) (hopefully i’ll remember to) [yes, this is the same in all posts in series]

Disclaimer: this is just a written account of events that happened in my life in the past few weeks and my emotional/ physical response to those events. I am writing this here so that it stays here as help for people to read and maybe see what certain things feel like, and as proof or diary for when i forget what really happened and start to believe her words. Also, this is going to be a long post... a very long post.

Okay, where was i? The first visit to the doctor. I had my tests done and bought the acidity medicine and the vitamins he suggested (i had already started to take vitamins again since a couple of weeks before, he just added folic acid to that. I also have a bit of an issue with vitamins and people telling me to eat them indicating that all will be well after that; but more about that later). in the pharmacy, my mother was pretty upset with me cuz i kicked her out of the room and told me some stuff i don’t want to remember right now. ummm... basically she said “ why did you ask me to leave, what secret were you going to tell the doctor? what did you tell him we did to you? i know what you think about me. you could have just said it all in front of me. what was with all the secrecy” [funnily enough, although i did ask her to leave, my reason was cuz i can’t really speak in front of her (she interrupts a lot too) and i was worried that i’d cry and didn’t want to hear about it for another 6 months. there was no secret or i didn’t even think about mentioning the abuse, cuz how do you just go to a stranger and say “ hi i am in pain and my parents abuse me”. even asking for help for my pain was demanding enough for me.] . she also “informed” me very angrily that the it wasn’t allowed for a woman to be alone with a male doc, a nurse must be present (which was not present) and that is probably why doc didn’t do the proper physical checkup. Well! he should have (if he thought an extensive one was necessary; he did check my breathing and stomach softness), called a nurse in or my mother in. i didn’t have any issues with him doing my physical checkup alone too. and he didn’t mention anything about that to me at all.

Anyway, I went back thinking God knows how long was this process was going to take and if i had the energy to fight for myself and make people believe that i was actually in a lot of pain. the reports came back fine (the expensive test one too, to much displeasure of my father “but this came back fine, so expensive for no use. why did he even write that test?” as if it would have been somehow better to get a positive test back for a disease?! I really don’t know how his mind works. By the time all reports were in, it was time for my appointment at the psychiatrist and it was decided to go to her first, then on our way back show the reports to our primary doc. that way we could also talk to him about what she said.

Oh wait, i forgot to mention in my last post. the doctor only suggested the psychiatrist and later sent me her number saying that i have told her about you please take an appointment. i had to call her and i asked about her fees which she very nicely said would be discounted and that helping me and understanding what was stressing me was more important. I felt so weird then, i don’t really hear these type of things very often.... or almost ever.

going to the clinic was easy enough, of course my mother and father accompanied me. and my mother did follow in. [let me just add that i only remember about half of what happened so...] the doctor ( hereby referred to as Psy lady) asked me “so, how are you?” and i said “ i’m good *smiled awkwardly as she realised that was not what she meant to ask*. she was like okay, how do you feel and what do you want to discuss me with. so i just sat there like a dumbass. then i asked her how much the other doc told her about me. she said it was just that you are his patient and needs psychiatric help in his opinion.

I am just going to make a dialogue format written account for that and the next doctor’s visit as this seems way too confusing.

At that time (not sure) my mother interrupted;

Mother: *turned to me* “if you don’t mind may i tell her the history etc” *in pointed politeness*

Me: “ok.”

Mother: *launched from how i was such a brilliant smiling child and wanted to take this scholarship abroad but she said no* *went off a long tangent about how she was just being a nice worried parent in controlling my life and now feels guilty cuz i can’t let it go* *finished by saying* “Dr., she just can’t forget that, she is stressed no job plus the lock down etc you know how it is. then she found out she has scoliosis in january and i think she has taken it to heart, like really it is completely asymptomatic and i have asked the doc she won’t have any problems cuz of it in the future” (i am guessing she meant having babies but really who knows) “she has just taken stress over that”.

Psy lady : *scribbled something on her paper* “My i have some time alone with her?”

Mother: “yes yes sure” *left*

Psy lady : “so tell me a bit about yourself.”

Me: *was still fuming and recoiling and shaking in my seat cuz i just don’t understand until how long is my mother going to throw that in my face. it has been years and i wasn’t even that upset about it (at least i just quietly internalized it) but she refused, controlled my life (since birth btw and still does now) and not even let me do anything else i want to do, nor find a job, then proceeded to throw her ‘oh i feel so guilty, i am such a good parent. i have commited a crime by being caring and now i must be punished oh!’ at me. Like where am i in all that? you say no, you control, your guilt, your love, your care, your image as a parent that must never be broken. where am i in all that? ALSO you never listen to my complains about pain so shut up*

Psy lady: ...

Me: “umm... hi... i umm never had a dream, but then i found this thing in my mid-twenties and i loved it, but they didn’t let me pursue it, then didn’t let me do anything. and now they act like i am a burden on them. now i have nothing to do or like, and i can’t even find a job or have anywhere to go. i don’t even really wanna die, i am just tired” *burst into tears yet again as i realized i had no idea why i was telling her all that and it felt so fake and story like at the same time* “... i can’t even breathe and i am in so much pain all the time that i feel like detached from my body cuz every time i try to be in it it fucking hurts.”

Psy lady: “are your parents always this much controlling” *pointed to the door indicating my mother*

Me: “they are emotionally abusive”

Psy lady: *had been looking into my eyes but looked away at the word abusive and didn’t say anything*

Me: *continued after a little shock that i actually said it out loud* “I can’t walk, my knees hurt” *tried to repeat almost all that was possible from the previous doc* *also told her about feeling dissociative and explained a bit how that feels for me* * told her all about how i was fine in dragging me through life but now that my body has suddenly collapsed (where as before it was just emotional pain and numbness and occasional body pains in back and stuff nothing too overwhelming or maybe i was mentally strong to ignore it) i feel very scared and lost. I was dealing with everything fine on my own even when i felt like dying but now i cant handle anything, i can’t even act in front of others; something i am exceptionally good at* *talked about lowered brain function, slowness, low blood pressure, no energy suddenly, not being able to retain information or remember anything, not having a concept of time and memory*

Psy lady: *explained about DPDR disorder and asked me about sleep eating etc.*

Me: *repeated the same: loved sleep can’t now, loved eating can’t now*

After some time of explaining asking and answering, she said that i have depression and what happens is that our brain stops making certain chemicals and to get it to make them again we have 2 options. one is medicine; the other is motivation and exercises. it seems like the latter would be hard for me (and i confirmed that i infact cannot walk or do almost anything and exercise is too painful cuz pain everywhere) she said that the best route in my situation is to start the medicine for some weeks (she said she’d not give them for more than 4 months; whole course including tapering them out) and explained that the medicines were very safe and answered all my queries about dependency on them or side effects etc. I said if that is what she thinks would be best and if taking them means i could feel alive again and my brain function would return to normal.

she then asked me to bring my mother back in. she explained the medicines to her and said i have diagnosed her with MDD. My mother asked what is that. She said Moderate Depressive disorder. my mother asked if the medicine was necessary. she said yes, and to not worry as these were safe and she’s only giving to get me started and pull me out of this extreme state, only for a short time. she also said that come back after 10 days of eating these, so we can see the effect and the side effects if any, and that day she’d also get me an appointment for a psychologist who worked in the same clinic as she thinks it would help me immensely. we agreed. took the medicine and left for the doc no. 1′s clinic. My mother didn’t say anything.

we reached his office and throughout the short car ride and while sitting there waiting for my turn, i was feeling very... accomplished? enthusiastic? Dunno... I was just trying not to cry cuz i finally had it written on paper, i was finally diagnosed, i had finally gotten help. yes, it was only a start and i don’t know much about how doctors work diagnosis and how much more can be added in future visits but it was a start. i finally did something to actually help me.

Finally, our turn came. we showed him the reports and told him what she said and prescribed. My mother asked him if the meds were necessary.

doc: “yeah they really believe in starting meds right away.”

mother: “I don’t want her to take them, it’s like giving up. she can use her will power and get better right?” [she also added something very weird like ‘these stamps (mental disorders diagnosed on paper) are not good for a woman’ or something along this line]

Doc: “yes she can. i too would suggest she do that.”

Mother: *went off on a long tangent about how when she was my age she had depression after having my older sister. but she will-powered through it and didn’t take the meds etc*

doc: “yes i agree, but it really depends on her is she willing to do it” *in a tone that suggested that i should say yes immediately and will-power though life*

Me: * realizing no one is listening to me* “doctor, can you please talk with the Psy lady and ask her if they are necessary in her opinion cuz i have no will left to power though with.”

Doc: “okay.” *called her and talked right then* * told her that he thinks it would be better to willpower through it?

Mother: “well she can will-power through right?”

Doc: “well the Psy lady said that she has been powering through with her will power for years; she has none left anymore. so she thinks that meds are the best option and besides” *looked at the prescription again* “these meds are not addictive and very safe.”

Mother: * insisted on no meds for 15 more minutes and had a long discussion with doc about praying, watching motivational speakers and what not*

doc: *joined in enthusiastically*

Me: *stared into the distance and stops listening with my wobbly neck and painful back*

Doc: “well she is not even listening. can you do it? exercise?”

me: “no it hurts, as i have explained before, not like the yayy muscle cramping up cuz i worked out way and i will love exercise in 2 weeks time way. No! the tendons hurt the bones hurt the joints hurt extremely painfully and it increases with time, even after 2-3 weeks it doesn’t get better.”

Doc: “okay, how about friends? social life? what do you do at home etc”

Me: “my friends are not here, i never made new ones. no social life. even when i was going to class before the lock down, it was from home to uni, uni to home. had no friends there. and i did walked in uni for about half an hour or even more but it hurt in the beginning, i thought okay, cramps (although my knees and heels were very painful too) but it almost felt like it got better (the cramps part) but then it got way worse and after a month i couldn’t walk for more than 10 minutes at a very slow painful speed.”

Doc: *asked about pets, anything that would suggest i was a living being with a life*

Me: “pets are not allowed and so is leaving the house by myself.”

Mother: *interjected* “we have never restricted her for anything.”

By this time, i had frankly given up and i don’t remember what happened next or where the conversation went. just remember something along the lines of “ for these 10-15 days before the next Psy lady appointment, let her do whatever she likes to, don’t ask her don’t control her. let her start up her social life again. she needs to be around friends and the things she can enjoy” something like this. to which my mother said very confidently “sure whatever she wants to do”

then, we left his office and in the car she told me to “not eat the meds as we have ‘now discussed it with your doctor”

this is getting way longer. i think i’d make one more post about it, or maybe one more after that for bits that i forgot. this post seems so badly written upon second inspection. this is not even the 40% of what happened but i don’t remember what happened exactly, or even the timeline.

The third and hopefully last post of this series can be found here post 3

#emotional abuse #abuse #actually abused #abusive parents #depression #MDD #chronic pain #tired of life #dpdr disorder #dissociation #scoliosis #migraine

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sugihana-trans · 5 years ago

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“Aokute, Itakute, Moroi” Chapter One

So the publisher actually released the first chapter of "Aokute, Itakute, Moroi" online for free as a trial read, so I thought it would be alright for me to share it here.

DISCLAMER: This is not the official English translation. I did it myself, and it`s not for profit.

Source

“We became adults without forgetting that season.”

All actions has the possibility of causing discomfort to the other person.

That’s what I’ve thought for the past 18 years right up until high school graduation, and have decided to make it my life’s motto as a freshman in University. In other words, don’t get too close to people and try not to speak out against someone else’s opinion. Doing so will reduce the chances of me offending someone, which then reduces the chances of me getting hurt by someone who was offended.

That’s why when I first met Akiyoshi Hisano at the University, I thought that there really are people in the world who are this presumptuous, foolish and slow, and secretly ridiculed her inside.

It was the second Monday of my first year at University. After we’ve picked our courses, we were to begin regularly attending classes starting this week. On a day when college students are supposed to be at their most motivated, I was sitting by myself at the end of the auditorium, not belonging to any circles (*clubs) or joining any freshman recreational activities. In my own way, I wanted a quiet college life.

It was 3rd period, General Education, Peace and Conflict Studies I‌ think. I was flipping through the textbook while waiting, when the professor eventually went up to the podium quietly, and then the room with only freshmen inside became quiet and solemn.

However, during a class which requires an unexperienced 90 minutes of concentration, the students’ minds naturally started relaxing. A buzzing auditorium; I wondered if the professors are already used to it every year as the class proceeded without paying extra attention.

I was probably also zoning out since I’m the type who, in the first place, couldn’t even keep my concentration during classes in highschool. So being in this 90 mins class which seemed to go on forever under a fine spring weather, I never thought I’ll spend the next four years without ever getting rid of that sensation.

The class immediately got boring. I looked outside the window at the end of my seat. The laughter of students without classes and the sound of birds were fusing together with the sunlight.

Then disrupting such a beautiful moment, while I was resting my chin on one hand and my head was down, I heard that voice.

“Excuse me, can I ask a question?”

A loud and lively voice, echoing in the quiet auditorium. Everyone woke up and looked around for the owner of the voice. I was just as interested, but I didn’t have to look around. Because I heard the voice coming from a girl who was one seat away from my seat to the right. Stealing a glance, the girl was sitting up straight with her right hand raised up towards the ceiling as if showing off her own courteousness.

I wasn’t listening to the lecture so I‌ thought the professor had asked for questions. Beyond the girl’s strong gaze however, “I will accept your questions later,” the elderly professor just prompted her to lower her hand with a bored face. Watching her carefully with one eye, I could see that although the girl slowly lowered her hand, she showed such a dissatisfied expression that it must’ve been seen from the podium as well. When the professor said, “But it’s fine now too,” the girl’s expression became lively and she expressed her gratitude in a voice which reached the whole auditorium.

If you think about it, a girl displaying an unthinkable idea to ordinary students, discussing with the professor, the University having such an amazing person, it could’ve been an interesting memory for me as a college student. Then, I’m sure it would’ve just ended there.

But it didn’t.

“I don’t think violence is necessary in this world.”

She started her questioning with those words, as if borrowing a phrase from someone virtuous, like something you learned in a moral class at elementary school. It was kind of embarrassing to hear.

Is this what you call an idealist? After listening to her talk, the professor didn’t bother hiding his scorn and said, “Everyone knows it would be nice if it’s like that.” From inside the auditorium, I heard small voices saying, “wow,” “what was that,” “ouch.” I didn’t imagine them.

The girl shut up after the humiliating conversation with the professor, and even though everyone seems to entirely ignore her existence, the class moved on while still wearing that atmosphere of having ridiculed someone.

I sent her a look again after that, not because I was interested in what someone who interrupts a class to announce their personal opinion would look like. Secretly, it was just funny to see the sullen face of the person who got shot down after making that stupid speech.

So when I glanced at her expression sitting sideways, it wasn’t disappointing, but I was surprised. Because she had a hurt look on her face. I turned towards the front like I’ve been shocked.

I’ve seen similar behavior from other people like her in junior high and highschool before, with that same thought pattern. At any rate, they’re the type of people who only believe in their own words, can’t read their surroundings, and gets taken for an idiot. That’s why it was unexpected when she didn’t show a bad mood from being rejected which is typical for that kind of human being.

Even if I didn’t want to get involved, I’m sure I was interested in her face at that time.

Nevertheless, because that interest was only at the same level as hearing some strange music downtown, it didn’t matter to me anymore by the time the chime rang.

I submitted the one-word evaluation questionnaire confirming my attendance and left my seat. I didn’t have any 4th period classes on Mondays so I decided to head to the cafeteria for a late lunch.

There were already people here at the campus dining room. In a place where I’m still getting used to a new environment, I got the daily set meal on a tray, took a seat by the window in a table for four people, placed my hands together then raised the miso soup to my mouth.

“Hey, are you alone?”

A voice that has nothing to do with you tends to just blend in with the other background noises. Naturally at that time, I didn’t think I was being called so I put a piece of fried white fish in my mouth. It made a nice crunching sound as I bit into it before accidentally dropping it back on the plate in surprise when my shoulder was suddenly poked.

I raised my face while still holding my chopsticks, and was once again surprised. It was the cringey girl I sat next to in the previous class, standing in front of me now with a tray of cutlet curry.

“Hey, are you alone?”

She repeated her question, which made me realized the words from before were definitely aimed at me.

“Oh, uh.”

I didn’t understand why I was being spoken to. There was no need to lie though, so I nodded for the time being. She showed her teeth while smiling, and sat down with her tray in front of me.

“I sat next to you in the previous class. I’m also by myself, so is it alright if I join you?”

Seriously? I thought. Aside from that demeanor which she uses to express her opinions in class, I’m afraid she might also have too much useless self-confidence.

What I couldn’t reject was one of my life’s themes. More than avoiding people, I often put more weight on not going against the opinion of the other person, and that was how I felt on that day. Nothing else.

“Y, yes.”

I used formal speech considering the possibility that she might be a senior. I thought that auditorium only had freshmen, but I could actually be her junior from the way she speaks so casually. And what causes her to suddenly try and have a meal with someone she doesn't even know like it’s normal might not only be because of her cringey personality. I wondered if she was actually a senior student who just have a lot of spare time in her college life.

“You can speak casually, you’re a first-year right?”

“Eh?”

“Huh, are you perhaps a senior?”

Seeing her stick out her little tongue and widen her eyes in surprise gave me the feeling that she was indeed a cringey person. It would’ve been nice to run away, but I didn’t want to lie so I just shook my head.

“No, I’m a first-year”

“Ah! I’m glad! I ended up freaking out, rushing to start off my college life.”

She placed a hand on her chest, and expressed her relief exaggeratedly with a breath. I wondered if that was her “rushing” in the previous class.

“Oh, I apologize for being so sudden, but I still don’t know anyone yet. I was feeling anxious when I saw you, and since we sit next to each other in class, I came to talk to you. I’m sorry, were you bothered?”

I was bothered.

“No, it’s alright.”

“Ahh thats good, um, I’m Akiyoshi Hisano.”

A self-introduction right away, I thought, a person with high self-esteem.

“I’m in the Department of Politics, are you as well?”

“No, I’m in the Department of Commerce.”

“I see. Can I ask your name?”

A question I can’t refuse.

“Ah, it’s Tabata.”

“Tabata-kun, although it’s sudden, it’s nice to meet you.”

Akiyoshi bowed her head. Her trimmed hair falling around her shoulders. I also bowed my head along with her. Whenever an unexpected event occurs, it’s usually better to just go along with it.

“By the way, what is Tabata-kun’s first name?”

“……Uhh.”

I hesitated to speak. It’s not like she did anything wrong by asking this very common question.

It’s a personal matter, but I hated my first name. If it was a handsome guy for example, he might be proud of having a name that’s too beautiful. On the other hand, if the gap between that beautiful name and the person’s inferior looks are too far apart, it might be funny. I was hesitant to say my own name which was halfway between the two and didn’t suit me. But of course, I didn’t have the courage to ignore questions from people.

“Kaede……”

And of course, this complex didn’t really matter from the perspective of the other person.

“Tabata Kaede-kun. An area in a rice field?”

“Ah, the edge.”

Akiyoshi took out a cellphone from her shoulder bag, played around with it and then put it back in her bag. The bag’s strap was digging into her shoulders.

“I made a note of it~”

With squinted eyes, she smiled showing her teeth, picked up her spoon and took a bite of the cutlet curry like it was a long-awaited treat. After seeing that, I looked away and went back to eating the fried fish on my plate again.

“I got so hungry in class, my belly was rumbling. Did you maybe hear it?”

“Oh, no.”

I didn’t care.

“That’s good. I usually eat a lot more than this, but not as much as Tabata-kun.”

“Quite healthy.”

“A habit from when I played soccer in highschool. I wonder if I should eat less now though.”

In other words, it seems she didn’t come from a strong school that emphasized wins and losses. Deciding to reduce her eating means she probably doesn’t intend to play soccer in University.

“Tabata-kun, do you play any sports? Oh, sorry for asking so many questions.”

Considerate, or at least someone who tries to be. Taking into account what happened in class before, I had imagined she was the type of person who will rudely invade someone’s space, but she seems to be treading carefully for the time being.

“No, it’s alright. I didn’t do much sports when I was in highschool.”

“Culture club?”

“Going-home club.”

“Are you not planning on joining anything in University too?”

“Maybe, seems like it. Ah, how about Akiyoshi-san?”

“I’m thinking of joining something, but there are so many circles including the unofficial ones that I’m a bit lost. I am a bit interested in something like a simulated United Nations though.”

“A simulated UN?”

“Yes yes, it’s amazing,” Akiyoshi responded, using that introduction as a platform to explain the simulated United Nations to me.

To summarize Akiyoshi’s story, it seems like the simulated UN was a club activity that tries to imitate the United Nations, where people who are interested in international issues gather together as representatives of various countries. I see, I was starting to understand her personality a little bit more.

“What do you think of it, Tabata-kun?”

“It feels like a difficult TRPG.”

There was no reason to denounce or affirm this simulated UN so I thought of saying something that doesn’t do either one. This time though, it was Akiyoshi’s turn to repeat my words, “TRPG?” In a similar flow as before, I couldn’t help but to explain TRPG, trying to keep the concept as simple as possible.

“I think it’s similar to a game where like, everyone kinda takes on a role, and so on.”

“Eh! Sounds interesting! I would love to be the hero.”

As if imitating a sword, Akiyoshi held the curry spoon in front of me. I wasn’t expecting her to react that happily, so I was surprised.

“You’re right, the simulated UN might actually be something like that. If you’re interested, would you like to check it out or join together?”

“Eh, um, no, sorry.”

I refused after being invited, and whether or not I looked sorry didn’t matter because I didn’t even want to be sorry.

That being said, declining her offer slightly went against my life’s theme, but of course, she wouldn’t know anything about my inner feelings. With a smile, she said “Hmm, it’s completely alright. I’m sorry about all of this so suddenly,” and placed her hands together in front of her chest. She seems to understand the merits and demerits of her own personality though, which gave me a good impression. Just a little bit.

“No, um, personally, it’s not that I‌ dislike you.”

“Really? I’m glad. I’m the sort of person who gets easily charmed.”

I thought so too, but she didn’t look like the type to care about that because of her cheerfulness, so the relief she showed was surprising. I also figured girls like her tend to know their place, and just follow along according to how the rest of her group feels.

I don’t know if it’s because I said I‌ didn’t dislike her, but it seemed to have made Akiyoshi feel better. This time, she didn’t stop and asked me a lot of questions. I‌ answered to some extent, and got her information in exchange.

Originally from Ibaraki prefecture, active enrollment, living alone, applied for a cram school part-time job, likes shounen manga and Asian Kung-Fu Generation.

She seems like a regular person if you just listen to this information, but because that behavior in class was my first impression, I unfortunately saw everything about her through a cringey filter. And I‌ didn’t bother fixing that warped viewpoint. I‌ thought it wasn’t necessary.

“Then, see you later.”

The classroom for my next class was far so I stood up first and waved at her. “Yeah later” she replied, though I didn’t actually think there would be a “later.” I’m not being a cruel person.

People like Akiyoshi are the type who can talk to anyone, and will soon find someone else better to talk to while forgetting about the person they used in the meantime. I‌’ve been used in similar situations several times before, and understand it’s something that can’t be helped.

That’s why I didn’t think I’ll have a “later” with Akiyoshi, and thought it unnecessary to understand her properly.

However.

I‌ didn’t have to wait for next Monday. During 4th period on Friday, in a classroom fit for 50 people, sitting with a good posture was Akiyoshi who waved her hand at me as I‌ entered from the front of the classroom. She was sitting at the very back by the window, and moved closer next to me.

“Good morning. It’s been awhile, Tabata-kun.”

“Uh, yeah, so you were taking this class too.”

“Right, I‌ also didn’t realize.”

Anyways, I sat down while thinking whether Akiyoshi’s friends were also coming. I‌ wondered whether I‌ should’ve moved.

But i‌t seems I‌ didn’t need to be that considerate.

Akiyoshi happily talked to me about getting that cram school part-time job until the chime rang. It looked like she didn’t make any other acquaintances around her.

When the class started, Akiyoshi stopped chatting and looked straight ahead. I wasn’t as serious, but I‌ also turned to face forward and listen to the lecture. Vaguely in my mind, with this person called Akiyoshi, I‌ thought about whether a “later” existed with her.

I didn’t have to think about it after all. About an hour after the class started, I‌ was able to learn one of the most significant reason amongst my many reasons.

I‌ heard a voice.

“Excuse me, can I ask a question?”

This time as well, I didn’t have to search for the owner of that voice. Seriously? I thought. Once again, I‌ was next to the person but this time, I knew that voice.

I‌ looked to the side, and Akiyoshi was raising her hand just like that time.

The professor was kinder to Akiyoshi compared to the previous one. “Oh, alright. You paid for tuition so you’re a part of this class. What is it?” he asked, forgiving her disruption.

“Thank you very much.”

I could guess what Akiyoshi was going to say after, but I‌ regretted making that prediction when it came true.

With child-like idealism, she spoke with a voice that echoed throughout the classroom, once again posing her own personal opinions as questions.

I didn’t secretly ridicule her this time. However, I‌ was stunned. Although it was just a little bit, I‌ had thought she was a normal person back in the cafeteria.

But I‌ wasn’t the only one who was surprised. From somewhere, I‌ heard something unbelievable.

“How many times is it now?” they said.

I understood what that meant, and felt dread.

No way, is this person doing it in other classes as well……?

I‌ never thought I’d have to change my perception on Akiyoshi.

She wasn’t a cringey person, she was bad news.

Someone I shouldn’t get involved with.

I‌ pretended to take the class seriously, and didn’t try to look at the face of this crazy person sitting next to me. I see, so that’s why no one approached her and she talked to me as if we`re friends. In other words, compared to me, the others were more vigilant towards this dangerous person.

What the heck, will it be like this from now on? I‌ started thinking of ways to escape, glancing sideways at Akiyoshi who was being rebuked by the professor, now wearing a bitter smile just like the previous professor.

For the moment, I’ve decided to just simply run away. I stood up as soon as class ended, submitted my evaluation questionnaire which I’ve already written during class, and left without seeing Akiyoshi. This should be a temporary relief. Next Monday when I’ll have to meet her again for class, I’ll go in just before it begins and sit right away, and do the same with the class just now. While doing that, Akiyoshi should forget all about me. I mean, there are so many people here in the University.

I didn’t see a reason why it had to be me.

Despite all that, I didn`t understand why she would run and follow after me.

~~~

#sugisaki hana #yoshizawa ryo #aokute itakute moroi #sugihana trans

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crystalessenceswrites · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Enchanting-- Excerpt

So I guess I was feeling a bit angsty today? Not sure what brought it on, but I had to get this down on paper today. Decided I might as well share it too. Gives some lovely insight into Delphine’s childhood, although a bit depressing... whoops.

You can check out Chapter One [here] or on AO3 [here]

Thanks to @flyingmarshmallow64 for letting me bug you about this all evening!

Summary: Delphine always told Elazar she would do anything to help him if he was ever in trouble, even knowing his knack for finding it. She didn't expect to be helping him save the world after someone blows up the Conclave and tears a hole in the sky. Nor did Delphine expect to be falling for anyone, let alone a troubled, former templar, while she's watching her best friend shape the future of their world with a green glowing hand.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: angst, panic/anxiety attack, Cole tries but is not particularly helpful this time... but Cullen’s here to save the day

Excerpt- The Winter Palace Approaches

Josephine has enough energy to run Skyhold three times over on a normal day, and how she did was well beyond Del’s understanding. Just meeting with guests on sparse occasions in lieu of Josie was exhausting. Del’s years in the Circle had worn down whatever tolerance she had for her fellow members of the nobility. When word finally arrived on the status of securing the Inquisition’s invitations to the Winter Palace, Josephine truly became a force of nature.

Every detail had to be perfected; every soldier attending in the retinue briefed and schooled in court decorum, accommodations sorted and reserved, travel plans sorted down to the minute, clothes tailored and wardrobes packed. It was enough to make anyone’s head spin. Josephine took it all in stride. Del simply did her best to offer support where she could, even if it didn’t seem like much, Josie did always voice her thanks.

She did so again with a knowing smile as Del corralled Dorian and El into Josie’s office with the others. Varric was already lounging on a sofa in front of the fireplace -much like he did in the main hall- talking rather animatedly to a disinterested Cullen, Josie was deep in conversation with Leliana at her desk, passing swaths of fabric back and forth, while Dorian and El draped themselves over the sofa across from the author and commander.

Del’s eyes quickly shot back to Josie and the spymaster tossing around satins in varying shades of blue. Now she knew what this meeting was about. Was it still possible for her to sneak away and escape the coming torture? El would approve of her skipping anything for the first time in her life.

Whatever chance she did have of escape slipped away with Bull’s entrance, his boisterous greeting drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Smiling at the final arrival, Josie clapped her hands together and got down to business. Del slid into the spot next to Cullen on the sofa, much to the enjoyment of the couple sitting across from her. El gave her his signature shit-eating grin and Dorian wiggled his eyebrows rather suggestively at them. Varric tried rather unsuccessfully to hide a snort of laughter behind a cough.

At least someone was enjoying themselves right now.

Josie looked rather unimpressed with the dwarf but continued on with a speech about etiquette and appearances at the Winter Palace, “… so, taking this all into consideration, Leliana and I have chosen a formal uniform for those attending the ball.”

Grinning- something Del did not see Leliana do all that often- the spymaster unfurled a red formal military jacket. It wasn’t overly flashy despite being trimmed with a gold pattern and decked out with full shoulder pads, but it was understated in terms of Orlesian fashion. Del could live with it as it lacked a corset.

Varric made his distaste rather clear, moaning to Leliana about his reputation in Kirkwall, and whatever else seemed to come to mind.

El, surprisingly, didn’t seem to perturbed by it. He and Dorian held the jacket between them, inspecting the design. Even while holding it, Del couldn’t picture El wearing it, it was the opposite of his style, if you could call El’s choices in clothing a style. Most days he wandered around Skyhold shoeless, in a half unlaced white tunic and brown leather breeches, much to Dorian’s apparent delight.

Maybe this was Josie’s way of getting back at him for his blatant lack of regency as the Inquisitor.

Cullen pulled Del from her thoughts as he gingerly wrapped his hand around hers where it sat between them on the sofa. His move, while discreet, did not go unnoticed by their company. Iron Bull sent them both a knowing smirk from his place leaning against the wall behind Dorian and El.

Del rolled her eyes at the qunari before leaning over to bump shoulders with Cullen.

“Care to share your opinion Commander?”

As annoyed as he was by the proceedings, he still sent a small, soft smile her way, one that made Del want to wrap herself up in arms like the lovesick girl she was trying not to be.

“There’s a long list of reasons why templars don’t attend balls. I’d say this is near the top.”

Del tried to hide her mirth at the mental image of templars dancing in full armor but was rather unsuccessful. Cullen’s smile matched her own, his honey-colored eyes shining. He must be having a good day to be looking at her so warmly.

“How in the Maker’s name are you going to get Bull in one of these?”

Del didn’t even try to hide her snickers at the pure indignation that laced Elazar’s voice. Cullen rolled his eyes.

“We have an army of tailors at our disposal, Inquisitor. Iron Bull’s outfit will be taken care of.” Josie reassured the room while Bull looked like he was holding his tongue.

“Oh, but Ambassador, can’t you just imagine the juicy gossip that would arise from Bull attending the Winter Palace shirtless!” Dorian cooed, obviously enjoying whatever mental image he had conjured.

Josie balked at the thought, drawing snickers from most of the room. “He will do no such thing!”

As Josie descended into banter with the Tevinter mage, Leliana slid up beside Del, one hand lightly curling over her shoulder.

Curious.

“Has Josie spoken with you yet?”

“Spoken of what?”

“The letter we received from your mother.”

A chill ran down Del’s spine and Cullen aptly noticed. His grip on her hand tightened- his show of silent reassurance.

“And what does my mother want?”

Leliana didn’t react to the steel in her voice, or at least not in a way Del could note. Elazar did. Del chose not to acknowledge how he leaned away from Josie and Dorian, his brows furrowing, tattoos crinkling around his eyes.

The spymaster produced a piece of folded paper, passing it to Del, “she notified us she would be sending the Trevelyan’s family seamstress, who arrived in Skyhold this morning, to prepare and fit you with a new gown for the ball.”

Del wondered why the news seemed draw all the air from her lungs.

“But…” Del’s voice croaked slightly, she cursed her body for betraying her. “There’s no need- the uniform…”

“Josie and I thought it best not come between a noblewoman and her daughter.” Leliana spoke softly. Her voice calculatedly level, as if to sooth, “and we debated for a time… it may prove beneficial for the Inquisition for you to appear at the ball as a lady of your station. Your name, after all, supplies the Inquisitor with substantial credibility.”

It made sense, the were playing The Game for the highest stakes. So why was her head spinning?

Del nods, rather weakly. “I see…” She couldn’t find it in herself to look across the room at Elazar. “Would you give me a few moments to read her letter?”

“Of course.” Leliana retreats to Josie’s desk, shuffling papers in the now quiet room.

Del quickly squeezes Cullen’s hand back before standing, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

No one responds as she darts toward the main hall.

Cullen’s frown deepens as he watched her figure disappear, letter clutched tight in her fist.

“Maker’s balls, follow her Curly!”

Delphine thanks Andraste and the Maker that the courtyard was empty today. She found her seat on the floor of the empty gazebo, leaning back against the railing as she pours over her mother’s words.

They hadn’t spoken since before the assault on Haven but Delphine recognized her handwriting all the same. They were definitely her words too- about her role in showing Orlais the position of the Trevelyans- that she couldn’t appear before the court as anything less than perfect.

You are a Trevelyan after all.

What a load of crap. Del’s grip tightened around the parchment. She hadn’t been a Trevelyan since she was eight.

“Delphine.” Elazar’s soft voice drew her attention away from the letter as he crouched down in front of her. Cullen stood silently behind him; worry etched onto his features.

Maker, she didn’t want Cullen to see her like this.

“El- I-I didn’t hear you…”

“S’okay, Del. It’s just us.”

Just us- just the two people who meant the world to her.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, Del?”

Del wasn’t sure she could. She didn’t know if there were words to explain why it felt like there was a druffalo sitting on her chest.

“Broken… shattered… betrayed. Why did they lie to me? Why would they send me away? I tried to be good. I promise I’ll be good…”

Del immediately recognized the icy feeling washing over her as Cole seemingly materialized next to her, sitting cross-legged on the gazebo floor with her. “Every time they call it twists the knife deeper, stinging and biting… you want to be angry but you aren’t.”

If this wasn’t anger she was feeling then what was it?

“Like a doll or a prize they pull out to show it off when people are looking and then shove back on the shelf the moment they look away. It hurts… but for a moment you forget… its warm. She makes you feel safe, like when you were little and she’d hold you in her lap and tell you how special you were and how important you would be one day.”

Maker make him stop. She wants to scream so her eyes will stop watering but she can’t breathe. She can’t speak.

“And then they send you away again and back to the cage- to the shelf they hide you away on so no one can see the blemishes on their precious name.”

The first tear falls, Delphine tries to choke back the sob building in her throat. She can’t bear to look at Elazar or Cullen.

“Cole, this isn’t really the time-”

“She hurts too. Every time she sends her little girl away, she’s worried she’ll never see you again. She never wanted this life for you.”

How in the world could he know that? In what world was it okay for her mother to play the victim when it was Delphine they sent away! When they replaced her!

“She has no right to be sad!” Delphine wants to scream it so all of Skyhold can hear, but her voice comes out just above a whisper between her broken sobs. “They had the chance to stop it, they had the power to make people look the other way! They chose to send me away, even after they said they would do everything to protect me. They betrayed me, that’s all there is to it.”

Her vision is blurry, she doesn’t see Cullen kneel at her side, but Delphine hears him. Armor against stone. And she feels him. Cole’s cool presence quickly replaced by Cullen’s warmth. His arms begin to gather her up and Del lets him pull her into his lap, pushing her head into the space between his chin and chest piece. Her mother’s letter flutters from her grip. Del grasps at his armor, his cloak, the fur, anything she can find purchase on as the sobs come faster. She’s blubbering into his neck but Cullen just wraps himself tighter around her. Shielding her. One hand runs up and down her back in time with his breathing, the other cards through her hair, unintentionally pulling her braid apart.

A hand joins hers where it’s tangled up in Cullen’s mantle. She recognizes Elazar’s spindly grip. It’s grounding, in the way only El can be. She grips it as she grips at reality.

Slowly, Del begins to match her breathing with Cullen, long and deep as he continues to rub her back. The tears being to subside, replaced by hiccups. His arms never loosen.

“Come back to us, Delphine. Come back to me…” Cullen’s voice is so low she almost can’t hear him as he keeps her pressed tightly against his chest. His breath is warm against her neck but his armor is cold against her limbs. She tries to focus on the sensations and not the swirling mess in her head.

“Cullen-” his name falls from her lips as she wraps her arms around his neck- “don’t let go.”

“I’ve got you.”

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