#(because she WAS mine. from day one she was mine. and i've built her history w other writing partners over the years) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

syn4k · 2 years ago

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(for those checking the notes: part two is here!)

"So, let me get this straight," said Pix, one leg crossed over his knee as he sat in one of False's dining table chairs. "You know Scott and Jimmy and Fwhip and everyone else?"

"Yeah."

"But they don't match the descriptions I've provided."

"Yeah."

False was sitting on the edge of her bed absently spinning a screwdriver in one hand, the man she'd dubbed Vacation Pix in her mind sitting across from her in her own chair. In the warm but still quite strong yellow glow of the lights she'd hung overhead, he looked even more different from the Pixl she remembered than he ever had in the dark outside.

"Okay," he said, leaning back. "Fwhip is a goblin now, and Scott is no longer an elf?"

"I mean, he never was in the first place, but yeah," said False with a shrug. "I've been here since day 1. They've been like that ever since then."

"What about before Day 1?" asked Pix, looking at her with that same intense gaze. That, at least, hadn't changed about him.

False looked down at the well-worn screwdriver in her hands. "I don't know anything before that."

Pix was silent for a minute. "Yeah, fair," he said. "See, though, I was there at the beginning too, and you were NOT there. Can I ask you something?"

"You already have, but go ahead," said False, looking up.

"In whatever world this is version's of me," said Pix, "what did- do I- what did- does he look like? We share a name, obviously, but you keep looking at me like you expect to see someone else here."

That's because she did. Fuck. Perceptive as always, she guessed. False cleared her throat. "Well, he wore- wears? Wore this button-down navy shirt," she said, leaning back a little and closing her eyes. "About the same height as you are. Brown pants, work boots, ponytail and beard, glasses."

"Huh. Alright. Where did he live?"

"In the Ancient Capital, over in the savannah," said False. "I don't know. I've only been over there like once. It's like really old and he's been studying it for a year and a half. He sleeps in this crypt thing and there's also this copper aging thing that he named? I don't know. He's just the resident weird history guy."

"Wait, back up," said Pix, sounding a lot more interested suddenly. "A named copper aging machine? Does the name David sound familiar to you?"

"Yeah," said False, looking at him. "How did you know that?"

"Because I also built one of those, back in my empire," said Pix. "Gave him the same name and everything. David 2.0, the marvel of Pixandria." He sounded wistful, bitter somehow. False looked at him closely, than stood up and walked over to the stove. "I hope none of my vegetables have gone bad," she said, opening and closing cabinets. "With my luck, they probably have. I have no idea how long I was mining for."

"Mhm."

"Because, okay," said False, finding a head of lettuce and turning it in her hands, looking for brown spots. There was one on the bottom side, of course. She set it down on the counter with a sigh and continued rummaging. "When I went down there, it was winter right? It was like, February. Really damn cold." She found a whole onion, somehow still crispy, and set it aside to cut. Maybe she could make sautéd vegetables or something. "The thing is, I have zero idea how long I was down there for. It could have been weeks. It could have been months." Gods, she hoped it hadn't been months. "I should have brought a clock or something! Then this wouldn't happen, and I could have gotten back here before-" She caught herself midsentence, leaning over the sink, hands clenched around the counter edge. She did not loosen her grip.

"Before what?" asked Pix from behind her.

False did not answer, acutely aware that the man was probably staring at her. She took as silent of a breath as she could manage and continued rummaging through her cabinets.

See, the thing was that she still didn't trust this man and his strange outfit. Was he a lot like the Pix she knew? Yeah. He was. But that didn't make him immediately as trustworthy as her Pix. She didn't even know the guy, and yet she'd invited him right in and was making him dinner.

Then again, he did have a bunch of sand embedded in his hair. He looked like he'd stood outside during a dust storm and hadn't bothered to clean up afterwards. False knew that wasn't why she'd let him in. She knew why she'd let him in, and it had nothing to do with his looks and everything to do with the fact that she'd been left behind, again.

Again? She'd only been here a year and a half. There hadn't been anything before this place that she knew that constituted an "again."

She hadn't just popped into the world at age 24, though. False was smart enough to know that something was up. She was also smart enough to not poke at her past or the other girl she saw in the mirror when she was running half-asleep cataclysms of foreign calculations and in the dead of night the only nightlight she had was the stars above.

False shook herself back to Earth and, grabbing a large knife, started chopping the vegetables she'd found with perhaps a little more force than was necessary.

"Your communicator should have the date on it, right?" asked Pix from behind her. "Then you can figure it out from there. Maybe we can solve this then."

False did not quite know how to tell this man that she did not want to solve this mystery, whatever it was. She wished she'd stayed back down in the dark. She wished she'd never sent that message. She couldn't go back now, though, and it'd be rude to refute her guest's suggestion.

False put down the knife and, walking over to her communicator, checked the date.

"May 27th," she said. She sat down heavily in her bed and stared at the floor. "Three- I was in there for THREE WHOLE MONTHS?"

Pix was silent, but False could see him get up and go over to the stove. Shit. Now he was the one cooking her dinner. That wasn't how she'd intended this evening to go at all.

Then again, nothing within the past three months had gone to plan.

"If this is Empires," said Pix from the other side of the room, "then there'll be residents in the towns to ask, right? Unless, of course..." He trailed off.

"Unless what?" asked False, looking up. Sounds like there was a lot going unsaid this evening.

Figures.

"Unless something happened and the apocalypse hit," said Pix with a sigh, dripping oil onto a pan. False didn't know where he'd found the oil or the pan. She didn't ask.

"What?" she said incredulously. "Why would that happen?"

"Nothing," said Pix. "Don't worry about it."

Ah. A fellow liar. She would get along great with this guy.

"I mean, this is Empires Season Two," said False. "I think we would have known if the apocalypse had happened earlier."

Pix whipped around. "Season Two?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

He paused, holding a wooden spoon, eyes suddenly distant. Slowly, he turned back to the stove. "At the start," he said quietly, such that False had to strain her ears slightly to hear him, "around that campfire, Fwhip mentioned that this was the first season of an idea he'd had. That meta was dropped pretty quickly. If there's a season two, then that means that somebody had to have survived the Rapture."

"This is season two, yeah," said False. "What the hell is the rapture?"

Pix paused a minute, then continued stirring the pan. The room was smelling quite nice now. "There was a demon. He basically caused the whole apocalypse. I don't know the specifics, but yeah."

"Oh," said False. There wasn't really anything else to say in this situation.

"Yeah," said Pix. There was a long pause. False continued staring at the floor. Pix continued. "It's good to know that at least somehow some things survived."

"I guess," said False, looking up. She sighed. "I think they just straight up left me here. Like whatever, it's not like I was planning on leaving anyways. But still, a send-off or something would have been nice."

It was silent but for the sizzling of vegetables in the pan. Two copper emperors, in the same room. Both of them were hiding things, False knew that that well. She knew the tone in Pixl's voice that said he was holding back from telling the entire truth. She knew the way his shoulders were set, probably the same as her own. Both of them had left behind something.

False opened her mouth, but Pix beat her to the "starting an awkward conversation" finish line.

"I'm sorry I'm pressing you this hard," he said quietly. "I just need to know- I just need to understand what's going on here. I walk out of that desert and right into the future. Everybody is gone except for the one person who stayed behind and avoided the end by accident." He turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. "Now, tell me, False, am I describing you or me?"

Ah. They were getting into the fun part now, the dangerous bit, tangoing right over landmines and doing backflips over the barbed wire fences that they'd bloodied their hands raising for so long. False was smart enough to know when something was up. She was also dumb enough to poke the lion. She answered his question with a question.

"Have you ever looked in the mirror and seen your face, but it's not the same person?" she asked.

Pix turned back to the stove, and False knew she'd gotten a wedge in between the cracks. "We're getting right to it then, aren't we," he said with a humorless laugh that was quickly followed up with a sigh. "Yes. Yes, I have. Where do you keep the plates?"

"Second cabinet to the right," said False, getting up and getting some forks from another drawer. "The cups are also in there." Pix nodded thanks and scooped the sautéd vegetables onto a plate.

"So, you want to figure this out," said False, taking hers and putting a fork onto it as well as Pixl's. "How about you go and do that yourself and I stay here?"

"You could have said that thirty minutes ago, before we had this conversation," said Pix. "I know this look. I also know that we're both hiding something."

That was true. False didn't like that he was right. She walked silently over to the table and sat down. She was all for poking the lion up until the lion bit back, but after that she was out of there. Pix set a cup of water down next to her plate and sat at the other end of the table.

"So," he started. "Let me guess."

"I'd rather not, actually," said False, blowing on her fork and putting it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. "I think you've been asking a lot of very rude and invasive questions, actually."

"And you haven't?" asked Pix. Fuck. He had a point.

"I have been a horrible host," said False. "Let's just say that."

"And I've definitely not been the best guest either," said Pix. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"Oh, don't pretend that this meeting was ever going to be anything but painful," said False. "These are really good, by the way."

"Thank you," said Pix, taking a bite off of his own plate. There was a pause as the both of them ate and drank in silence. "I'll phrase it better this time. Am I allowed to make a guess?"

"Sure," said False with a sigh. "Psychoanalyze the hell out of me."

"Well, it's not like the signs are hard to read," said Pix with a shrug. "An extroverted person usually doesn't stay in a cave for three weeks straight mining copper."

"I get the feeling you're talking from experience here," said False.

Pix smiled. "Good observation," he said.

"Can I ask a question of my own?" asked False.

"As you told me earlier, you've already done that several times," said Pix. "Go ahead."

"How'd you do it? How'd you avoid the end of the world?" asked False. "If everything goes to shit, you don't do it by hiding in a hole."

Pix froze a little, fork hovering over the plate. False waited. If they were going to do this here and now, may as well do it thoroughly. It took a few seconds for him to resume, but when he did, his voice had lost its bantering tone and became something lower, somehow angrier, a husky thing. "Well, I wasn't hiding in a hole."

False had always remembered Pix as a man with secrets, but ones that he wore lightly. He was always so confident, always in motion, the sort of guy you'd go to if everything went wrong because he'd have answers. This Pix needed the answers. He was a man on the run.

Aren't you too? a snide little voice in her brain asked.

Shut up, she responded.

"Where were you then?" she asked.

Pix didn't look up. "You know, I'm starting to sense a pattern here."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I think we're more alike than we think."

"Maybe in another world."

"Well, I'm from there, and I've seen this all play out before," Pix said now, sitting up and looking her straight in the eye. "Here's my hunch: you're bitter because you were abandoned. I'm bitter because I'm the one who left. Both of us were left behind, but for you that wasn't an actual choice you made."

"Oh," said False with a chuckle. "We're both running from our consequences, huh?"

"I wouldn't say consequences," said Pix. "I'd say our pasts."

"It's not like I have a past to run from," said False. She froze. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Pix studied her from the other end of the table, and suddenly the scales were flipped and she was the one under the microscope.

Oh, False had a past alright. It stared at her in reflections. Her past was the force that kept her feet onto the floor. It wore her hair, it wore her shoes. It wore her face. Her skin.

Sometimes, False dreamed that she was alone.

"I get it now," said Pix, leaning back. "This world ended in ice, not fire."

"It's not ended yet," snapped False. "I'm still here. You're still here."

"Maybe so," said Pix with a shrug. "But either way, an era has passed. I show up here. You recognize me as another man, one who from what I've heard is basically everything I wish I could be. I wonder how he did it. And I recognize you as something I could have been if the roles were reversed."

"Congratulations, Sherlock," said False, finishing the last of her dinner and shoving aside her plate. "You solved the mystery. We're both messed up in complementary colors. You can file the case away neatly and go home now."

"But I can't," said Pix. "Neither of us can."

"Then why don't we just go our seperate ways and I finish my house and then die tragically in a wildfire or something and you go MIA while crossing the ocean?" asked False, at the end of her patience. "We're getting nowhere here."

"Well, I know where I'll go now at least," said Pix, taking a sip of his water.

"Humor me."

"Oh, I think I've told you too much already," said Pix, standing up. "I'll stop bothering you now. And just for the record, I don't think that you were left alone here intentionally. I don't think this universe's Pix would do that."

"Would you?" asked False.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "That's a loaded question."

"We've been firing shots at each other all evening, what's one more bullet?"

"Touché," muttered Pix. "The answer is no, I don't think I would. Maybe an hour ago. But not anymore."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said False, standing up and headed for a bag she'd hung from a hook on the wall. "I'm going to bed."

"That looks like a travel bag, not bed."

"Well, I've got somewhere to go tomorrow," said False, tossing the bag over towards her dresser. "There's a Rift somewhere around here. You've convinced me that if I'm going to be forgotten, may as well be forgotten while being a pebble in their feet."

"Good luck, then, and good night," said Pix. False heard her door open. "I hope that finding your past turns out to be less painful than not having one."

"That's a really specific blessing," said False, turning around. "Well, since I guess I have to give you a blessing in return now, I hope you forgive yourself." Pix blinked, and False flashed him a shark-tooth grin. "I'm not stupid. If you wanna get anywhere where you're going, you have to stop shooting yourself in the foot every second step. Night."

"Night," said Pix, nodding as the door shut behind him.

False walked over to the wall, flicked off the lights, and went to bed without getting undressed.

She wouldn't let them leave her like this.

Not without a fight, anyways.

False had been mining for copper for... hours. Days? Time gets a little bit weird down in the deeps, and she remembered something that someone (a reflective surface on a clock face: still her face, but not an outfit she'd ever worn before) had told her once. Something an old friend had told them. It's wise to keep a stopwatch in the mines, he'd said, because if you don't you'll forget time existed at all pretty quick.

False hadn't brought a stopwatch.

She'd been mining copper for a while.

Several shulkers in her pockets and one extra hoisted onto her shoulder, she made her ascent with a small sigh and a slight wince. Her knees were NOT going to appreciate that later.

Her base was still right where she'd left it, every little trinket still in place and nothing touched as far as she could tell. A little clockwork copper raven lay sideways on her desk, innards splayed outwards and stomach open to the elements. Gears, springs, miniature pistons. Outside, the evening- morning? no, definitely evening sun shone low and heavy through her high windows. She checked her communicator, refreshed the chat. Just a lot of logging-out messages, the last one Pix from two weeks ago. All the ones before were even older than that.

False felt slight goosebumps raising on her biceps.

She hurriedly rubbed them back to warmth. They were probably just on vacation or something. It was fine. She stepped outside. The air was warm and sweet, high spring in the North, and she decided right then and there that she'd pull up a chair and just watch the sun set or something. Gods knew she needed the vitamin D.

Dragging a dusty folding chair outside (really, everything inside of her base was dusty, how long had she been down there??), False beat the dirt off one side, flipped it over, and did the same there, breaking spiderwebs with her bare hands and a wrinkle of the nose. Thankfully, the straps of fabric seemed intact and the joints moved smoothly, if not with a breath of resistance.

She set the chair down on the ground and sat down carefully on it, testing her weight, then leaned back and folded her hands over her stomach. The weather WAS nice, and she wondered why anyone would take a vacation when the world right here was just as picturesque.

False sat there a little while in perfect repose, body warmed by the waning sunlight, before suddenly snatching at her communicator next to her and reading the chat logs over again. Pixlriffs left the game. TheOrionSound left the game. GeminiTay left the game. MythicalSausage left the game. SmallishBeans left the game. Everyone else was listed there too, and before that there were a couple of Warden deaths. Currently, False was the only one online.

Of course, she didn't really have anywhere else to go. Other people had their worlds and their other servers and their own projects to attend to. False was just... here. Always had been, and she supposed she always would be. She couldn't really imagine herself anywhere else, anyways. Where would she go? A singleplayer world? No, that would drive her mad. MCC? Laughable. Hermitcraft? No, no, they'd know something was wrong. They'd give her questions she wouldn't be able to answer. False had seen the squints Gem had given her when she thought she wasn't looking, had seen how Pix had raised an eyebrow minutely when first raising her. False was smart enough to know that something was up. She was also smart enough to not press the matter.

Still, she did suppose it was a little strange that nobody had logged on in what, a fortnight? Even during the crossover, people still dropped in regularly to work on things quietly or get some trade deals on when the cameras were off. Even Oli had still dropped by once when he was supposedly on hiatus, and that had only lasted a few days.

Yeah. Okay. Maybe more than a little weird, but it was fine, False was like the queen of weird. Gods above, her secrets had secrets! She knew about as much about herself as she did her machines, which is to say, a lot but not everything. Not the full histories. If she read the stories told in the weathering of the copper she had crafted as her veneer, what would she read there?

Would her blood shine a bright verdigris as it was shed by the shining horrible truth?

Not the healthiest relationship to have with yourself and your history, probably, but False was also the queen of dealing the hands she was given. And the queen of this empty town, population her. Dealing with other probably empty by now towns.

Well damn, she couldn't quite ignore the fact that she'd been left behind now, could she?

With a sigh, False set down her communicator. She'd deal with that once she figured out how long she'd been down mining. Given that it was well into spring by now, judging by the trees, it'd been at least a month.

Wait, a month?

She must have made a mistake. There was no way that-

False's communicator beeped. She picked it up.

Pixlriffs joined the game.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. Someone was here besides her, at least. And she was even on friendly terms with him! Well. Probably. They'd exchanged copper like, twice. False was pretty sure that counted.

<FalseSymmetry> hey <Pixlriffs> hello? <FalseSymmetry> dude where were you it's been two weeks <Pixlriffs> It's been two weeks? <FalseSymmetry> yeah nobody's logged on at all <FalseSymmetry> come to my base? <Pixlriffs> Where are you?

Again, those goosebumps. (Gods, they were getting annoying.) False frowned. It was a bit weird that Pix didn't remember where her base was, but then again he hadn't been over here in a while and he hadn't even been on the server since two weeks ago. She had to cut him some slack. With a shrug, False copied her coordinates and sent them into chat.

<Pixlriffs> wow that's a long way from where I am right now <FalseSymmetry> yeah lol <Pixlriffs> Okay, I'll be right over. Might be a minute though <FalseSymmetry> that's ok <FalseSymmetry> take your time

False put her communicator back down onto the ground besides her and waited, folding her arms again. The sun crept slowly down, eye-searing yellow fading to a more manageable red that stained the clouds purple and pinks and subtly ever-changing hues of grey. The sun dipped below the horizon. The stars came out. Pix was still not there.

False was considering asking if he was alright or something when she saw a human-shaped figure step into view in the glow of the torches she had set on her bridge. She sat up a little straighter in her chair and waved, getting up and walking forwards to meet him. "Hey," she said as Pix got closer into view. "It's been... a minute."

The face was Pixl's, but lined and worn. He looked like, ten years older. Instead of the button-down navy shirt and brown cargo pants he always wore, he was instead draped in loose, thin sand-colored robes that were bordered by a gradient reminiscent of the colors of copper. A brown shirt could be glimpsed beneath. His pants were grey and similarly loose, and instead of hiking boots he wore strapped leather sandals. False looked him up and down quickly. "Had a rough vacation?"

"Vacation?" he asked, sounding confused. His hair was down, and the grey streaks in it were more pronounced than False had noticed before. Beard too. What the hell had he been up to?

"Yeah," said False. "You've been gone for like, two weeks. You look like you aged ten years. I like the outfit, though. It's very," she waved her hand, "swoosh-y."

"Two weeks?" asked Pix, definitely sounding confused and now concerned. "I think it's been longer than two weeks."

"How long have you been out, then?" asked False.

"A month or two maybe? Maybe longer. I sort of lost track of the time, unfortunately."

"Oh, I feel that," said False, trying to ignore the knot that was tying itself oh so neatly in her stomach. "I've been mining for a while. Getting copper, y'know?" She thumbed backwards. "It takes a while."

"That it does," said Pix. His eyebrows furrowed, and he walked a little bit closer to False. "Do I know you?"

The knot pulled itself tight with a snap, and despite the warmth of the evening False was suddenly very cold. "Yeah," she said. "I- I've been trading you copper."

"I don't remember seeing you anywhere before this, though," said Pix now. "You're sure?"

False lied through her teeth. "I'm sure."

Pix stepped back and looked around, arms folded. "Okay, because I am 99% certain that I have never seen this place before in my life. Where- what's your name again? Where are we?"

"I'm False," she said, backing up a little. "This- this isn't funny anymore, Pix. Everyone's been gone for two weeks and they haven't come back yet. They've never done that before. I thought that you of all people would know what was going on-"

"False," Pix repeated, urgently now. Brown eyes met teal. "Where are we?"

"You're in Cogsmeade, and this is the Empires server," said False. "But you know that already. What are you getting at? Is this your idea of a prank?"

"It's not," said Pix. "This isn't Empires."

"What do you mean it isn't Empires? This is the server. You've been playing on it for a year and a half."

"This isn't the same place," said Pix, gesturing around him. "There's no Rivendell, no Mythlands, no Grimlands, none of that. This isn't the Empires I remember. I've never met you, and you've never met- well, not me me anyways. Something's up here."

False stood there silently for a little while, goosebumps returning to her arms. She got the feeling that they would be staying there for a while. The wind had turned cold, and somewhere behind her she could see that copper raven, still flayed, still unfinished. Time. She'd run out of time. She thought she'd had enough before the season ended- she'd run out of time.

"Do you want to go inside?" she asked.

"Sure."

#and here's the final iteration of this oneshot thing! yes it is a oneshot despite being split into two parts #trust me bro #reblog #ray's tag #writing #the copper architect meets the copper king #THE ENDING IS SO FUCKY BTW IM SORRY ABOUT THAT #i just. sat down to write that bit and then it went in a different direction

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shadowspellchecker · 2 years ago

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- When the French left their colony at St. Croix Island, the English sent settlers in 1607 and they settled at the mouth of the Kennebeck River at Fort St. George

Spencer Stockbridge, born 1687, died 1780--he was murdered--his throat was slit while he was sleeping

Isaac was a brave man, sailing on the ocean in a small ship. Issac Collins crossed the Ocean to USA in 1690. he landed right near here in Frenchman's Bay, and he came to Collinsport and liked it and decided to stay--only it wasn't called Collinsport then, because there was nothing here except the harbor, and trees and lots of fish--Isaac Collins, imagine having a town named after you

Carolyn: Good old Uncle Isaac, in the 17th century, built the fishing fleet, founded the town, gave it a name--the works --I always thought Uncle Roger looked a little bit like him

Carolyn: Isaac Collins, the bigshot who started the whole mess--you might say he's the man who put us into the fish business

The Collins family has been in Collinsport for 300 years; they built the town : 1667

Issac’s son

Isaac’s grandson

Isaac’s GGS

Isaac’s GGGS

Isaac’s GGGGS, Jeremiah’s F

P. Agthorn Stockbridge, born 1713, died 1731--at the height of his youth--trampled by a stallion--he left a young wife and a baby girl--the girl they say had hair like the sun

L. Murdoch Stockbridge, born 1735, died 1867-- --she--says the caretaker--burned to death. A candle fell against the bed curtain, says the caretaker--what body is in there is mostly ashes. 1735-1767

Burke grins--this chest is over 200 years old, isn't it

The grandfather Clock in the foyer is over 200 years old: 1767

E. Pendleton Stockbridge, born 1801, died, 1817--she was drowned at sea, most of her body was torn to bits by the rocks

1817 – Jeremiah kicked the widows off the Cliff.

This reckoning would place the construction of Collinwood at just after 1816.

the widows….moaning with grief as they have foe hundreds of years….they used to walk this hill the widows… they would walk and stand look out to sea and wait for the ships to return… would wait for husbands who would never come back. The hours and the days would pass and there would be no masthead over the horizon, no sail just emptiness. And then even that was taken from them… almost 150 years ago when Jeremiah Collins decided to build our house he chose this hill, the highest point in Collinsport. They were no longer permitted here, all of the wives and sweethearts of the sailors on Jeremiah's ships were turned away, sent back to their homes told to keep their grief for themselves.

They haven't gone. They never left.

– Roger Collins. 0012.

The camera focuses on Jeremiah's portrait as Carolyn reads the family history book, "Jeremiah Collins--sixth generation descendent of the founder of Collinsport, in 1830, married Josette LaFreniere, of Paris, France. The construction of Collinwood, the family mansion, was begun that same year."

137ya

Barnabas stands in the Old House drawing room looks up at Josette's portrait. "I was a Collins, why didn't you protect me--where were you when I was turned into something that even my own father loathed? If his ghost is here with yours, tell him I've come home, and I claim this house as mine--and whatever power you or he may have is ended--I am free now, and alive--the chains with which he bound me are broken, and I've returned to live the life I never had."

One hundred and thirty years ago, the love of a man and woman built this mansion on the crest of Widows' Hill : 1837

In the more than 130 years since this house was built, two people have thrown themselves from the ledge where you and Carolyn stood, says Liz--the legend she wanted to tell you is that someday there would be a third--that death hasn't happened yet--it's only a legend (didn't Carolyn already relate this tale?) <1837

Collinwood has had 130 years of brooding existence

The Collins family has owned Collinwood for more than 130 years, and the family still wants to keep it in spite of the terror they've known there

For more than 130 years, the foreboding mansion of Collinwood has sat on the top of Widows' Hill like a giant headstone, marking the watery graves of fishermen who have perished in the seas below. It is a monument to one man--Jeremiah Collins and his dreams --but when men dream, spoilers always seem to lurk nearby, ready to destroy their dreams, turning them into nightmares, even in a small family town like Collinsport

If it had been an accident, he wouldn't have come back, says David--the same way with Josette Collins--she didn't fall of Widows' Hill--somebody pushed her! That was more than 100 years ago, says Vicki.

even the Old House near Widows' Hill, where our poor ancestors Josette and Jeremiah lived for a time--and Joshua Collins, my direct ancestor, lived there with his family--even after this house was built

There was a night such as this. A night when a young beautiful woman was pressed to the limits. She could no longer accept what the future held for her. She knew she had to destroy herself before she became something she did not want to be. She had quarreled with her lover. She tried to send him away but he would not be put off.He tried to put his arms around her but she broke away from him and run out into the stormy night. Her white dress contrasted against the darkness. He ran after her as she headed for the one place on earth that seemed to be designed for the termination of life. Rain drenched her, the winds buffeted her blowing her long hair wildly. Her clothing was torn by the low branches. The small white feet were bruised and mudstained with the stoney cruel pathway to the summit of the cliff. The shouts of her lover were lost in the wind as he moved swiftly after her. Near the top she stumbled over a large rock, crying hysterically, she limped and crawled to the edge of the precipace. Her lover reached her, clutched her, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes were wide with terror as the lover held her tightly, his lips pressed against her throat. Soon she grew limp and he released her. Suddenly there was a last surge of energy. She broke free and hurled herself off the cliff. Her scream reacting and echoing as she plunged downward. Her body was impaled on the large craggy rocks below. Her lover descended to the bottom of Widow's Hill. He found her body broken, lifeless, bloodless. As violent as her death was the expression on her face was one of serenity. As if this were the best possible ending to her life.

Abigail Collins was a four-great grandmother (GGGGGM) to David

He begins to talk of other storms that have assailed Collinwood and the Old House, and the ships that have crashed on the rocks below Widows' Hill in the past. They ask Barn to stay (fox in the henhouse!) and he decides to entertain/scare the crap out of them by relating some stories about ships crashing on the rocks below Widows' Hill, killing the sailors and leaving their weeping wives behind

Josette Collins: Born 1810 (157ya), died 1834 (133ya) age 24, married at 20 ya

Barnabas' plan comes out as he escorts Maggie into Josette's room, which has been lovingly and painstakingly refurbished. "This is your room," he tells her, "just as you left it long, long ago." He calls her Josette and says that will be her name from now on. She repeats the name, wonderingly, questioningly, and sits down to gaze at her reflection in the vanity mirror. They are going to be together from now on, he assures her, and enjoy the happiness they were denied so long ago. He's forgiven Josette for killing herself, for taking herself away from him. He stares at the portrait of Josette hanging above the mantle and back to Maggie. He wanted to give her life, not death, and now they will have another chance together. She takes his hand. "Life," she repeats in a childlike voice. He escorts her to a love seat and after she is seated, kneels in front of her like a man proposing

They will be together, never again separated, he vows. "You are my Josette." She pulls her hand from his grasp just as he's about to kiss it, as though emerging from her trance for just a moment. He shows her a magnificent white wedding gown and reminds her that it was hers. She'll be his bride. When Maggie starts to cry, he begs, "Please, no tears."--only happiness from now on. He gives her a music box that he brought from the Orient--it has traveled the centuries with him. Listen to the past and look to the future he bids her, playing the pretty melody (which I always preferred to the one that came after). Maggie raptly listens and we see her face segue into Josette's portrait as the music plays.

Jeremiah Collins is Elizabeth’s GGF

Jeremiah was Carolyn’s GGF

Jeremiah. Oh, says David, entering the room--he's my GGGFSure, of course, says Willie. He was richer than anybody, says David, he was married to Josette--her portrait is down at the Old House. That's nice, says Willie, not really paying attention. I could tell you lots of spooky things about her, says David. Willie chuckles. I bet you could, he says, wandering into the foyer. And that's Barnabas Collins, says David, showing Willie the portrait on the wall (the man himself!)--he died in England--he was rich, too, richer than anybody. Nice ring he's wearing, says Willie--is that a ruby? Yes, says David, a family heirloom. (ruby?) Family heirloom, eh? asks Willie--is it still around? Not that ring, says David, I don't think so--I haven't seen it. But there are other heirlooms around, says Willie, pointing--like this medal, here? Some, says David. Oh, come on, you're kidding me, says Willie. No I'm not, says David, we have plenty of family heirlooms, worth much, much money

Barnabas also admits that the story he told Carolyn and Vicki the night of the storm was the tale of Josette's suicide, but he says no one knows who Josette's lover was.

My GGGF founded this town, says David--that's why they call it Collinsport.

Barnabas talks to Maggie, calling her Josette over and over, reminding her of her impeccable taste, how they always used to dine together by candlelight

At the Old House, David, armed with a flashlight, lights a candle and sets it up under Josette's portrait, making it glow. It's me, David Collins, he says, can you hear me, GGGM?

The candlesticks seen on the dining table were part of Josette's dowry, brought from France. A silversmith fashioned them from her own design.

Jeremiah Collins was a very strong man

I understood that Barnabas Collins (GGGGF), the son of Naomi and Joshua (GGGGGP), died a few years after he went to England. That's true, says Barnabas, but apparently the family history didn't tell of his marriage, or the fact that he had a son who proved to be my GGGF

When Barnabas first met 18 year-old Josette, she could not speak a word of English and it was his job to teach her the language.

My favorite, of course, is Josette, says David--that's her portrait over there--he points to the far wall. Our ancestor from over a hundred years ago, says Barnabas.

The music box was the only present Josette ever accepted from Barnabas. She had to keep it hidden because there were those who were against their love. how the music box was the only gift she would accept from him because no one would accept their love

Jeremiah Collins built Collinwood

"If you see my big brother," says Sarah, finally speaking, "don't tell him you saw me. He doesn't like anybody to come down here." Sarah walks away slowly as Maggie gazes after her

The family album is open to a picture of Josette Collins wearing the locket, says Liz, going over to it--weren't you looking at it? No, says Vicki. Someone was, says Liz. That's impossible, says Vicki--because Frank and I left this room a minute ago--no one came in here since then. Are you sure? asks Liz. Yes, says Vicki, this book was closed when we left--did Josette Collins own that locket? We see the photo of Josette in the album, which looks nothing like Maggie or Vicki. Yes, she was the first Collins woman to own it, says Liz--it was given to her on he wedding day. Why should the book open to this page? Wonders Vicki--do you suppose that it's a sign--from Josette Collins?--

Liz tells Sarah that this is where widows perished, and tells some of their stories: Rachel Comstock lost her husband and five sons to the sea; Abigail Tolliver was a new bride whose husband drowned; Margaret Findley's husband was lost in a storm. All of the grieving women leaped to their deaths from this place, Sarah recalls the legend that the others await a fourth widow (great gauging of Liz' feelings, Mrs. J, perhaps you shouldn't have done that) to join them. When Liz nearly faints, Sarah pulls her away from the edge of the cliff just in time and leads her back home.

Jeremiah’s sober days were more rare than his drunken ones

Naomi Collins, who was supposedly buried with hers

Liz describes the stormy night in 1949, 18 years ago, when Paul Stoddard was leaving her--and taking a big chunk of Carolyn's inheritance with him, and Jason has prepared papers that falsely showed it all was rightfully Paul's.

Naomi Collins is stated to have had several children who are buried in the tomb and is stated to have died a very old woman, in her sleep.

Laura Murdoch Radcliffe 1840, and 1867. I understand there's another Laura buried here, says Peter--Laura Murdoch Radcliffe. The caretaker repeats the name--died by fire, he says. Where is she buried? Asks Peter. Outside in the ground, says the caretaker, she couldn't be buried here, she wasn't a Stockbridge. Laura Murdoch Radcliffe--born 1840, died 1867

, is there any mention of the death of Laura Murdoch Radcliffe? No, says Frank, there's no mention of it at all, except for this newspaper clipping--the masthead says Collinsport Courier, October 1867

but there's something else we discovered--an old newspaper, dated 1867--it tells of a death by fire of Laura Murdoch Radcliffe--it also tells about her son--as she was being consumed by the flames, attempts were made to rescue her, but she refused. Her son tried to rescue her? he asks. Oh, no, says Vicki, she was holding her son, clutching him in her arms. He...he burned to death with her? asks Burke. Yes, says Vicki. That's a pretty hair-raising story, isn't it? asks Burke. My heart almost stopped beating when I heard his name, says Vicki--his name, of course, was David.

was one thing Dr. Guthrie neglected to tell me--this son, this boy, David--he burned alive! Didn't he tell you about that, either? she asks. Yes, says Roger, faltering over the words--but what he didn't tell me was that this son, David--he didn't want to be saved--he wanted to burn! --in his mother's arms--in the flames--he wanted to--he wanted to!

the day before the date of the newspaper article (e.g., October 25) =

died by fire on October 26

[Garner & Garner] have miles of records that go all the way back to 1879,

The East Wing was closed over 50 ya, 1917

There are sections of Collinwood that have been closed off for more than 50 years

Why? she asks, this section of the house has been closed off for 50 years

Liz's great-grandmother gave her the emerald pendant in question when she turned 18.

Yes, a little, agrees Maggie--she could pass for your sister. Do you know who she is? asks Vicki eagerly. No, says Maggie, I told you, my father could have done it 30 years ago (1937)

[Elizabeth has] known [Bill] for more than 25 years, says Carolyn, he's been more than just the manager of our fleet and cannery--he's been a good friend. 1942

Elizabeth and Roger’s father die over 20 ya1967 : 1947

Liz (who doesn't seem at all upset) sits on the sofa and explains that they once had a butler named Hanscomb--why should that interest Vicki? She saw a portrait of a girl in Sam Evans' studio, says Carolyn, and the girl's name was Betty Hanscomb and it looked a lot like Vicki. Betty Hanscomb looked like Vicki? asks Liz. That's what she said, Carolyn tells her--she said even Maggie commented on the similarity. I haven't seen Betty Hanscomb for years, says Liz, but as I remember, she didn't look anything like Vicki. Who was she? asks Carolyn. Hanscomb's daughter or niece, I forget which, says Liz, I haven't thought about her or seen her in at least 25 years.

It's about this painting, says Vicki, handing it to him--do you remember who the model was? He takes it and gazes at it, then says it is an old one--not bad, pretty good, he remarks--amazing how your brush stroke changes in 25 years. Is that how old it is? asks Vicki. Far as I can recall, somewhere in the vicinity of...you know something, she looks a bit like you--or rather you look a bit like her, especially around the nose and mouth. That's why I want to know who she is, says Vicki. I know she was a local girl, says Sam--Hansen--no, Betty Hanscomb

--she was a lovely girl. Do you know anything about her? asks Vicki. I knew a great deal about her in those days, says Sam, sucking on his pipe. I heard that, Pop, says Maggie, returning to the room. That was before I married your mother, he says--I'm afraid this has no connection with you, because Betty left town about six months after I painted this--then I heard she had died about five or six months later--so you weren't even born then. Does she have any family? asks Vicki hopefully. Sam thinks and says her parents are both dead--no other relatives--sorry. Vicki looks dejected and says, "So am I." Wait a minute, says Maggie--Hansen--wasn't that the fella that Burke killed?

Bill Malloy had problems with a girl 20 ya; thought he had worked it out—he hadn’t. 1949

the almost 20 years I worked for Mr. Malloy

Don't tell me it's because of Paul, says Roger, because I know better than that. You know nothing at all! she proclaims. I know that this blissful marriage you were supposed to have had was not so blissful at all, says Roger cruelly. Roger was away at school. He had holidays from school, he says, I was home then, and saw enough to know I'm right--that's why I could never believe this story about you sitting and waiting and grieving for your long lost husband to show up

Vicki was born in 1947, 1946

Elizabeth last saw Sam Evans more than 18 ya, <1949

Elizabeth hasn’t left Collinwood in 18 years (universal constant) Elizabeth fired all the employees the day after Paul left; she hired Matthew Morgan that day – 18 years ago

Paul left Collinsport ; The money began to come to Vicki : 1949

Carolyn was born 6 months afterward

Matthew Morgan is almost killed when brakes fail on Widows’ Hill almost a year after he started working here, “17 ya”… 1950

Burke was born in Collinsport 1937

Bill Malloy hires Burke 15-16ya 1951-1952

Bill Malloy is managing the Fishing Fleet & Cannery

Burke left Collinsport in 1957. Burke hasn’t been in Collinsport in 10 years (universally constant)

Roger and Laura married the day after

David was born 8 months later

[David] doesn't know [Laura], he hasn't seen her since he was five years old--she's about as real as one of his imaginary ghosts.

Burke left prison in 1963

5 ya : 1962

I served five years, one month, three days and seven hours

(from Sept 19th, –10) Oct 22, 1962. Doesn’t work out.

(from Oct “, –10) Nov…1962

From Dec “, –10) Jan 1963

At that time, the other half was my brother, says Garner, he died 5 years ago

Just that she's come back after about five or six years

1963 Last time Elizabeth saw her banker

The money came until Vicki was 16 1963

1958 David was born

Mr. Malloy as anyone would have been--she clenches a fist and says he should have lived another 30 years (1997)

Liz slept on her childhood bed “‘every night until…’ then stops ‘until I was married.’”

Elizabeth

Art Wallace

not another soul in that ghost-ridden house of tears. She asks what he means by that, and he replies that that's simple--you break a heart, it cries--but eternal and true--you've heard of Josette Collins?--this is where she stood--brought here from France as the bride of the man that built that house--he built it for her, gave it to her--but he couldn't give her peace--the townspeople hated her because she was a stranger--her husband's family hated her, because she was different--even the house hated her--so she would cry herself to sleep night after night, and then one day--this is where she stood--that's where she jumped--he nods toward the sea. How horrible! says Vicki passionately. House of tears, says Sam--some quiet night, if you listen real carefully, you can hear her crying her heart out with loneliness.

Sam Evans

Art Wallace

Did you also know that three people have killed themselves jumping off that cliff? there was Josette, the wife of the madman who built this place, and a couple of others--come to think of it, they were governesses, just like you. What are you trying to do, asks Vicki, smiling--frighten me again? The legend goes, Miss Winters, teases Carolyn, that the body of a third governess will be found, huddled and broken, at the foot of yonder cliff.

Carolyn

The wind, he replies, or the widows--yes, you hear them? he asks--moaning with grief as they have for hundreds of years. …--haven't you ever wondered why this is called Widows' Hill? … Unhappy, mournful--the agony of restlessness, they used to walk this hill, the widows, walk, stand and look out to the sea for husband to return that would never come back--the hours and days would pass, and there would be no masthead over the horizon, no sails, just emptiness, loneliness and grief--and then even that was taken from them--almost 150 years ago, when Jeremiah chose to build this house, he chose this hill, the highest in Collinsport, and they were no longer permitted here. --all the wives and sweethearts of the sailors on Jeremiah's ship were turned away, sent back to their homes, told to keep their grief to themselves. How terrible! Says Vicki. The winds/widows howl. They never went, says Roger--they never left. But that is only the wind, says Vicki. Is it? asks Roger--listen--carefully. If you're trying to make me nervous, you're doing very well, says Vicki. There are old men in town, says Roger who swear they've seen them, roaming the top of this hill in a high wind, crying bitterly, staring out to sea with empty eyes. Only a legend, says Vicki. Legends aren't real, he says, but we do have out ghosts up here and they are very real.

150

1817

Roger

Liz brings a tea tray into the drawing room, sets it on the table and checks her watch. She dials long distance operator 67, announces that this is Elizabeth Stoddard, Collinsport 4099--have you any report on that call I placed to Ned Calder?--I see--keep trying, please. She hangs up. She answers a knock at the door. Much too long, he says--you're looking good. So are you, she praises, not at all like a stuffy old banker. (I think he looks pretty darn stuffy.). Liz pours tea and says all she wanted was his advice on setting up a trust fund for her nephew. I have the papers right here, he says--is there something else I can do for you, too? No, thank you, she says. Has Bill Malloy been giving you any headaches? asks John. Of course not, she says. Don't misunderstand, he says, I like him, he's conscientious, capable, a good boy, as far as running your fishing fleet is concerned, but that's as far as Bill goes, too (Boy?) Bill is doing the best he can, says Liz, handing him a cup of tea. But he's no Ned Calder, says John--I imagine by now you've realized how much you need Ned. Liz looks down. Malloy hasn't been able to take his place, has he? asks John. Well, says Liz, I never intended he should, I thought that Roger... If you thought Roger could run the business, says John, that was wishful thinking--he's no more a businessman than I am a fisherman--you need Ned back at the helm before you whole fleet sinks. That's not going to happen, insists Liz. I was just speaking allegorically, says John--Ned's ideal for the fleet, it's been his whole life--what you need is someone to handle the common business--it happens that what you really need is someone to handle your life. You sound like Ned, says Liz wistfully--those were almost his exact words when he asked me to marry him. (Liz you got a proposal?) Why did he resign? asks John--because you refused him? He had other things he wanted to do, says Liz evasively. That isn't the truth, is it? asks John. I told you what he said, says Liz. Ned Calder is one of the finest men I know, says John. You seem to be forgetting something, John, she says--I'm still married. Your husband left you 18 years ago, he reminds her--why should you be denied your freedom?

Collins Family History

Swann

I think I understand, says Liz--many, many years ago, a stranger came to Collinsport--he was mysterious as all strangers are, because you know nothing of the past--and that's where the mystery lies--he was very glib, this man, and had a way with him. What happened? asks Carolyn. I married him, says Liz--he was your father--Paul Stoddard. Did you love my father? asks Carolyn. Yes, I loved him, says Liz. You've never told me much about him, says Carolyn

Swann

Sarah thinks it over and says no, not when you think about it--they had that large staff at Collinwood 18 years ago, and when Paul Stoddard left, Mrs. Stoddard fired all of them--the cooks, the maids, the butler, the chauffeur, all of them--they haven't had anybody else there since old Matthew the caretaker

Swann

For 18 years, most of this great house has been closed off, 18 years during which the servant staff has consisted of only one man--a man whose continued devotion to the Collins family has been the driving force of a narrow, lonely life

Wallace

Sarah Johnson

Wallace

Swann

Well, says Vicki, walking around to stand beside him, there is a name on it--right there, B. Hanscomb. This is a very old ledger sheet, he says, was it in a book? No, says Vicki, it was in a pile of papers in a box. Did you notice if the box had a date on it? asks Garner. I'm afraid I didn't, says Vicki. It would have helped, he says. Do you know her name? asks Vicki. HER name? asks Garner. I know that at one point, there was a girl named Betty Hanscomb who lived in Collinsport. In that case, I'm afraid I can't be of any help after all, he says, the only Hanscomb I recall is the Collins' butler. The butler? Asks Vicki. You mustn't think Collinwood was always the way it is now, says Garner--it once took a large staff to run the place. Do you remember his name? asks Vicki. I haven't the vaguest notion, says Garner, he was always called Hanscomb. It began with a B, points out Vicki. Yes, so I see, says Garner, but I don't think I can remember--Burt, Ben, Brad?--no, no use. What is that list of names and the amounts of money opposite? Asks Vicki, sitting back down. Seems to be an old monthly wage list of the employees at Collinwood, he says. Were there that many? Asks Vicki. A large staff, he says, two chauffeurs, three cooks, upstairs maid, butler, housekeeper, gardeners, handyman--and on special occasions, they'd bring in a dozen extras to help--this must have been one of those times. It's hard to believe there was ever any real gaiety at Collinwood, remarks Vicki. Believe me, there was, he says, even after Elizabeth married Paul Stoddard--he rises. And it all stopped when he disappeared? Asks Vicki. Yes, says Garner, hands in pockets, I believe it was about that time. (Sounds evasive to me.) And that's when the servants were discharged? Asks Vicki. Approximately, he says, I told you, that was an old sheet. 18 years old? Asks Vicki. Could have been much more than that, he says, 20, 25 years--in those days, when an employee had a job at Collinwood, it was a job for life. Apparently not, seeing as they were all discharged, observes Vicki. I meant before then, he says. Do you think any of the others on that list might know about B. Hanscomb? Asks Vicki. Possibly, says Garner, but before you get your hopes up, I believe I should tell you all of them left Collinsport. All of them? asks Vicki, surprised.

Swann

Sproat

Not so long ago, says Liz, we talked about your father and me. I remember, says Carolyn. Liz, her back against the door, tells her, I'm sorry to say the romance between your father and me wasn't so much between us, but the Collins money and your father--but there was a man I loved very much. Did I know him? asks Carolyn. Yes, says Liz. Bill Malloy, guesses Carolyn in a gooey tone. No, says Liz, Bill was just a good friend. This other man--is he here in Collinsport? asks Carolyn. No, he wanted me to marry him before I ever met your father, says Liz. Did I know him? asks Carolyn. Yes, says Liz--Ned Calder. Why didn't you marry him? asks Carolyn,. I kept him dangling too long, says Liz, I took him for granted--Joe Haskell reminds me very much of Ned Calder as a young man--he's patient--to a point.

Sproat

102

Swann

124

Marmorstein

There was someone who claimed to, says Liz, but that was a long time ago--my great-aunt, when she was a little girl--… a woman appeared to my great aunt just before she was rescued

Elizabeth

127

Sproat

Elizabeth

134

Marmorstein

144

Sproat

Laura Murdoch Collins

153

Sproat

with the cemetery that that's 5 miles out on the North Road, leading out of Collinsport? Not intimately, but I'm aware of it's existence, says Roger. It seems that members of your wife's family, her ancestors are buried there--I should say WERE buried there.

182

Sproat

189

Sproat

205

Sproat

208

Sproat

208

Sproat

208

Sproat

208

Sproat

There's a great-great granduncle of David's who went away to be a missionary

208

Sproat

212

Sproat

212

Sproat

212

Sproat

212

Sproat

214

Marmorstein

233

Marmorstein

233

Marmorstein

236

Sproat

239

Sproat

239

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239

Sproat

239

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239

Sproat

256

Marmorstein

266

Sproat

271

Caldwell

Naomi Collins 1781-1821

276

Sproat

Sarah Collins, Barnabas' beloved sister, who died at the age of nine

276

Sproat

They sorts through other items previously worn by Sarah, sister of the original Barnabas, Millicent and Joshua. Barnabas is especially touched when he finds one of Sarah's little dresses; it's clear Barnabas loved his sister very much.

278

Caldwell

Sarah Collins' ghost appears and picks up the dress. My blue dress! she exults, and takes it away with her

279

Marmorstein

Barnabas claims that Josette's handkerchief was given to her by the Queen of France.

251

Sproat

Barnabas Collins: "Mercy? There was a time when I needed it. A time that I begged for it from those who could have so easily have given it. From those who could have understood and helped. But they chose not to. And now I choose not to."

258

Marmorstein

Sarah Collins once learned a secret about the room in the Old House cellar, but her father forbade her from ever revealing it.

260

Sproat

Sarah Collins once posed for a portrait.

260

Sproat

The legend of the widows is said to consist of three women, who are waiting for a fourth to join them. However, previously the ghosts of four widows attacked Matthew on Josettes command.

266

Sproat

It was established in previous episodes that Josette Collins was said to have jumped to her death from Widows Hill. However, no mention was made that she was the widow of Jeremiah at the time of her death.

266

Sproat

The Collins Family Bible offers the following birthdates: Roger Collins September 14, 1925; Elizabeth Collins Stoddard February 28, 1917; Carolyn Stoddard July 16, 1946.

267

Marmorstein

Victoria Winters, on her own, visits and departs the Blue Whale late at night. This would seem to be a bit remiss on the writers' part as it has been established that there is a curfew on Collinsport, and that no women should be out alone at night with the Collinsport Strangler still on the loose.

267

Marmorstein

Today’s date is given at April 10th, 1967. There’s really no way to reconcile the dates with the information given in this episode with 189’s happening on, or around, October 26, 1967 and 463 occurring on April 3rd, 1968. It’s not stated outright that this is today’s date unlike 189 and 463, but that is what seems to be the implication. The writers most likely forgot that they printed the date on the paper prop in episode 180. It's also interesting to note that the tape and air dates for this episode are far off from the date Elizabeth writes for her death. If we stick with the date given in 189 of October 26th 1967 then today’s date could be no earlier than sometime in December 1967. There is certainly no way to reconcile a date of April 10th, 1967 with 463 occurring on April 3rd, 1968, as the passage of time suggested between 268 and 463 is not that of a year, closer to a couple of months at the very most which fits with this episode taking place sometime in December 1967.

268

Sproat

Paul Stoddard speaks of having to put up with Carolyn for the last 2 years. Previously Carolyn's birth had been established as being 6 months after Paul "left", and then later Elizabeth told Carolyn she despised the way Paul ignored his daughter, so that pushed her birth up before this event, but not by any known amount. The family Bible says that Carolyn was born July 16, 1946 which would be almost 21 years previously when Elizabeth had been 29 years old (Elizabeth was born February 28, 1917)

In Shadows on the Wall, the series' bible, it was originally planned to be at this point where Victoria Winters would have learned the truth of her heritage. During the 1949 flashback, Paul Stoddard would have cruelly informed Elizabeth Collins Stoddard of his affair with Betty Hanscomb which produced Victoria. However, these plans had been shelved (despite the references to Betty in earlier episodes) when the production team decided that Victoria would be Elizabeth's illegitimate daughter instead.

Flashback, 1949, Collinwood: Jason forces Elizabeth to go into the basement room and look at the spot where he buried Paul and tells her she can just say he ran off. They leave and he hands her the key to the room.

272

Caldwell

This episode features the first mention of Victoria Winters' mysterious past for what seems like a long time. Whether he is telling the truth or not, Jason McGuire claims to know something about her.

274

Marmorstein

Joshua Collins, his father, who could have brought him peace but instead chained Barnabas in his coffin; Naomi Collins, his mother, a very quiet, gentle woman; Sarah Collins, his sister, who died at the age of nine with her doll - repaired by her brother the day before - in her arms. A

276

Sproat

Barnabas Collins (on Willie's reluctance to handle Jason's body): "You really are appallingly sentimental."

Willie Loomis (furious): "You wouldn't understand!"

Barnabas Collins: "Why? Because I never had a friend who died?"

Willie Loomis: "Did you?"

Barnabas Collins: "Yes. Once. Long ago."

Willie Loomis: "Was it Josette?"

Barnabas Collins: "No, she lived long before I knew Josette. She died when she was very young, and very innocent. She was very dear to me; I mourned her death for a long time."

Willie Loomis: "Never heard you talk this way before; you sound almost -"

Barnabas Collins: "Almost human?"

276

Sproat

Barnabas Collins (referring to the Mausoleum): "This was to have been our final resting place, but I never found rest - or peace."

Barnabas Collins (about his father): "He could have brought me peace, but he didn't He thought he was being merciful; what he did was no act of mercy."

Barnabas states that Sarah died before he ever knew Josette. This would ultimately be retroactively contradicted (or "retconned") in later episodes.

276

Sproat

eeping with established continuity, Barnabas Collins mentions Jeremiah Collins having built Collinwood. Of course, this was to be changed in later storylines.

277

Marmorstein

Elizabeth Collins Stoddard notes that there is a resemblance between herself and Naomi Collins; Joan Bennett would later play Naomi in the 1795 episodes.

277

Marmorstein

Carolyn confesses to having felt a chill herself when she tried on Millicent's 130-year-old gown, as if she was intruding on her ancestor's life.

279

Marmorstein

When relating his hatred for Jeremiah Collins to Willie Loomis, Barnabas Collins claims that he would have destroyed his rival if time had permitted. He reveals to his servant that Burke will be attending as Jeremiah Collins, who was an object of hate--the worst enemy Barnabas had--and, if time had permitted, he would have destroyed him. Tomorrow night, he might have the opportunity to do exactly that.

279

Marmorstein

Carolyn Stoddard claims that Millicent Collins' dress is from the 19th century when, in fact, it is from the 18th.

279

Marmorstein

His mood sours when he turns to the page featuring Jeremiah Collins' portrait in the album. Jeremiah stood in the way of Barnabas' and Josette's happiness, and he loathed him more than any other human being. Every moment he saw Jeremiah he longed for his death. And with Burke cast in the role of Jeremiah, they too will meet again tonight

280

Sproat

apparently reliving the night Josette died. She IS Josette, being pursued by. . .who? "He's getting closer!" cries Vicki/Josette--"He mustn't catch me!" Liz and Barnabas are concerned (well, Barnabas is afraid he's going to be exposed) and try to stop what's happening. "I've got to jump!" gasps Vicki. Just when it seems Vicki/Josette is about to reveal who her pursuer is, Barnabas leaps from his chair and shouts, "NO!!!", putting a stop to Vicki's trance. She falls unconscious to the table. Roger is pissed at Barn's stopping the seance, but Barnabas insists he was trying to avoid tragedy--Vicki was reliving the night of Josette's death

281

Caldwell

Barnabas insists that person is moldering in a grave after 200 years

281

Caldwell

Vicki and Burke, searching for Josette's grave, see two women in the distance, but can't identify who they are. When they do find Josette's marker, Burke calls it pitiful, and Vicki explains that this grave was Jeremiah's way of punishing Josette for deserting him by committing suicide

283

Sproat

[Sarah]'s been dead almost 200 years

302

Russell

Sarah Collins: 1786-1796

306

Russell

It's a whole bunch of things--he never discusses his life in England, his "cousin," Niall Bradford, died 130 years ago

307

Russell

He gave it to the local librarian to examine, and that doll, though it looks brand-new, is actually 150 years old

314

Sproat

Sarah, who is behind him. Who are you, really? He asks, an where are you from? Collinsport, she responds--I lived on a hill in a big, big house until was about nine--ten--and then I got sick and everyone came to see me--and they were very, very sad. Because you were sick? Asks David. Because I died, replies Sarah. Be serious, insists David. I am, she says--I died, and everyone brought me such pretty flowers. If you died, what could you be doing here now? He queries. I don't know, says Sarah--I think I'm looking for someone.

325

Russell

Liz delivers bad news to Burke--he can't buy the House by the Sea. Odd old Caleb Sayers Collins, who disliked strangers, didn't want the house to go to anyone but a Collins for 100 years and that won't be for another five

335

Russell

Carolyn brings David a sandwich up in his room, and they have a nice cousin-cousin talk. She was brought up at Collinwood, too, lonely and friendless, she tells him. She once had a friend, Randy, who used to play with her and bring her sea glass. He brought her a piece of green glass on her 10th birthday and never showed up again. To this day, she isn't sure if he was real or imaginary, but she still misses him

344

Caldwell

Willie Loomis states that Josette Collins was given her music box on her birthday.

282

Marmorstein

Josette Collins' gravestone, which rests beside a clump of elm trees, states that she was born in 1800 and died in 1822. She was buried away from the Collins' out of spite by Jeremiah Collins, who felt she deserted him when she committed suicide.

283

Sproat

39.

. I know, says Bill, but--that's probably for me, I told the office I was coming here. Then you might as well answer it, says Liz. Bill does, it's for Liz--person to person, from Portland. Ned Calder! Says Liz excitedly. Why would Ned be calling here? asks Bill. Because I asked him to, says Liz, smiling--yes, this is she--hello, Ned, how are you?--I'm all right--the reason I phoned is, I'd like you to come back to work for me. Arms crossed, Bill listens. Right now--as soon as you can, says Liz--I know you have another job, but Ned, it's important--I wouldn't have asked you if it weren't--all right, that's all I want you to do--think about it--but quickly, please--goodbye. So you're not afraid of Burke, are ya? asks Bill--a few months ago when Ned Calder said he didn't want to work for you any longer, I remember you telling me you hoped you'd never see him again. Would you object if he came back? asks Liz. Object? repeats Bill, no, indeed--he's a good man, smart, fast, just the one to deal with a character like Burke. That's what I thought, too, says Liz. But you're not afraid of Burke, says Bill. Bill, please, says Liz. The man was your business manager for more than 15 years, Bill reminds her, and then he quits--you practically begged him to come back, did you know that? I merely asked him to think about it, she says. Put it any way you want, says Bill, it tells me the pressures are really closing in on you--and that's just what I was afraid of. All right, says Liz, so Burke does worry me--if Ned could help, why shouldn't I ask him to come back? No reason, says Bill, no reason at all--so that's why I'm telling you this, right now--with or without your permission, I'm going to stop Burke cold--and today!

#dark shadows the beginning #dark shadows (1966)

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kitsu-katsu · 3 years ago

Text

About revived (by Derivakat)

(Disclaimer: Nothing against Derivakat, I think her songs are amazing in general and she's very talented, I simply have a bone to pick with these lyrics and characterization)

So um, here's my counter to some of the lyrics because fuck it, I'm tired and fueled by spite, let's go:

Let's start with the chorus:

"White streak in my hair but no stress now" - Funnily incorrect, cc!Wilbur confirmed that the white hair is from stress itself, it's not about the revival process alone. Also just by reasoning, I cannot imagine what might have been stressful about spiralling and believing that the world is out to crush you, believing that you're the scum of the Earth as well, only to die, spend 13 and half years in dark isolation and then being jolted back up to life missing huge chunks of information, really cannot fathom how that might be stressful /s

"I've seen hell, but this is a bit more my style" - True you know? It's awesome that he's said that he's over the moon about being alive again after spending 13 and a half years of pure isolation in the dark, screming until his throat was hoarse. But coming from the tone of it, I'd like to point out that Wilbur's also still passively suicidal and self harms (check out the part under "He doesn't love TNT, he self-harms with it" in this post)

"A decade of time to make everything mine" (also counts for "This is my sunrise, this is my dawn, this is what I've waited for all along. All of this time, all this is mine. MINE. MINE. MINE!")- Honestly, based on what he's been doing, no prejudices, forget everything fandom's said: he doesn't really seem to want to "make everything his", does he? This perception mostly comes from him saying "This is my sunrise, this is mine!" in the original revival stream, however, if you forget about common fandom perception, what's so evilly framed about a guy who spent 13 and a half years of isolation in the dark saying "this is my sunrise!" after watching the sun coming up again for the first time since his death, in which he was extremely emotionally unstable? Like for real?

Now onto the verses:

"Am I the bad guy? I'll be the bad guy again" and "I've come back hell-bent" - Now, he has said that: “Here’s the thing, Tommy. I, I, I, I know I was bad, and I know I can redeem myself, but like, you know, there’s a little bit of fun in being bad, you know, we’ve spoken about this.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 11:31, 5th May), BUT, since then he's also expressed genuine remorse for his worse actions during Pogtopia (check out the parts under "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" and "Wilbur cares. A LOT" in this post), a wanting to redeem himself and truly become better and... uh... OH! He's also admitted that he's afraid he scares people and cried when Ranboo said that he was "an alright person". For real, just watch the Healthy Competition stream and read this reddit post by cc!Wilbur

The reddit post in question, just in case:

"You think I cared? It was always a means to an end" - So false. Just... so false. Ok, so quick one, let's review the actual lines said originally about him "not caring for L'manburg" in full:

“Uh, one thing, I didn’t actually really care about L'Manberg, I just cared about, you know, sticking it to the man. Actually, I cared about L'Manberg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 24:18, 5th May)

“Look, I- Okay, I said it wrong. Look, I did care about- I did care about L'Manberg, but I cared about it for- You would call it the wrong reasons, but I, I- Just don’t think about it, don’t think about it too hard. Look, L'Manberg’s gone now, we’ve got that, you know- That, that wart on my side is gone, you know. I salute it, I salute it, you know, it was a great- It was a great place.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 25:18, 5th May)

“Look, Tommy, I’m gonna reiterate for you once more because I don’t think you quite understood, and that’s okay, you know, you don’t need to understand everything. I did care about L'Manberg. I did, I did. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, Tommy. L'Manberg would have been as loved by me had it been called Bimbum and was built in the middle of the desert.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:05, 5th May)

“The actual location, and the actual things it was, it were, were not important to me. It’s the thing it stood for. Which was freedom, liberty, and sticking it to the man, Tommy!” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:26, 5th May)

“We were a family, Tommy. We were…” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 27:26, 5th May)

So as you may see, he retracts himself immediately and explains his feelings with more nuance

Then, let's look at the more recent confession to Ranboo:

“I told Tommy that I didn’t actually care about L'Manberg, and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain like, you know, power and stuff. But it’s not, it’s not true.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:36, 3rd Aug)

“L'Manberg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

“I want it to, em, I want its history to live on not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically just took a big shit on the history books, it feels like. I wanna, I wanna make it, I wanna make it feel like it was, you know, it was something that happened. You know, it was a great thing, you know, think of the good times. The- The years of safety. Well, not years, but you know.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

If this got more explicit I'd be literally hitting you over the head with it. Anyway, check out the parts under "Wilbur cared. A LOT" and "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with" in this post

"So who cares? So what? I'm not calming down" and "Shut up! And listen" - “Tommy, shut up! I mean, Tommy, come over here. Tommy, come over here, come over here, man. It’s cool, it’s cool, it’s cool. Sorry, I, I-” (Alivebur)

– (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 26:08, 31st May)

That line's totality gets often cut down, erasing the immediate apology after the loss of cool. Furthermore, I'd argue that him "not calming down" in general is mainly due to his euphoria and overexcitement during certain scenes where it makes complete sense for him to be feeling like that, and in a broader sense, he has a tendency to say things in the heat of the moment and out of impulsivity that he turns to later regret from all the way back at Pogtopia. Him not calming down now is either out of impulsivity or outright euphoria to be out of limbo, not necessarily an evil thing. And when he percieves he should calm down, he tries his best to do it, or apologizes for snapping

“I’m sorry I wasn’t, you know, entirely on the same page. But, man, I promise you, I’ve calmed down, you know, I’m all, I’m all settled in. I understand, you know, what’s changed, what hasn’t, who’s new, who’s old, you know, who’s still about, you know, who… Who, uh… uh… Who trusts me and stuff.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 15:04, 3rd Aug)

“I relived that explosion in my head so many times man. And, and, and I- I get that you don’t, you don’t trust me, I do, but like, man, look at me, bro, I’m not gonna do it again. I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna hurt you again.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 21:21, 3rd Aug)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times" and "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized" in this post)

"There's nothing wrong with me" - BUDDY. Wilbur drowns in self-hatred, what are you talking about? The man got caught off guard and cried when someone said "you're an alright person"... He's worried that he scares people, he knows how others see him on top of his own self-hatred

“TommyInnit, as you know, is just, he thinks I’m insane. I’m not insane, chat, I’m not insane.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 4:30, 16th Oct)

“See, I’m not so crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 16:40, 16th Oct)

“I’ve told you, I’m not crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing, and this is genuinely the best thing we could do right now.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 17:18, 16th Oct)

“I’m not crazy! How am I crazy?!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 43:18, 17th Oct)

“Everyone I seem to meet has this deep intrisnic feeling of disgust towards me. Jack Manifold seemed to be quite nice to me, but I reckon he, I could feel it, you know, in his stare. But like, you don’t have that. I can tell you’re a good guy.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 30:24, 5th May)

“Quackity, I’ve, I’ve, I’ve, I’ll be honest you with you, I’ve lost everything, man. I, um. I’ve lost decades of my life. I’ve lost my- most of the people who cared about me. Some people don’t even know I’m back yet, and I, and I think that’s probably for the best. So I feel like that does humble a man. That really humbles a man, you know?” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:00:52, 31st May)

“Listen, Phil, I met, I met Quackity. After you very kindly lent me your house. I went and met him. Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

“Not many people do. I mean, Phil, you don’t seem afraid of me, you’re not afraid of me, are you, Phil?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:03, 25th July)

“Good, good. 'Cause I’m not afraid of you.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:10, 25th July)

“Why? Why? … No, no, no, no, no, not the, not the bit about the, not the bit about the right foot, the why don’t you think I’m a bad person?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 35:13, 25th July)

“Can I be real with you, man? I think I scare people.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:30, 25th July)

“I mean, like I, I, I, I don’t think I, I- I think a lot of people share your idea, but they share your idea in trying to- trying to keep me from hurting them, you know? Like they’ve seen what I can do, and they don’t want me to do it again, so they adopt your emotion in order to do it.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:46, 25th July)

“Dream is- He’s had his comeuppance, and I have not! My comeuppance was apparently not good enough for this people. They’re just waiting, they’re waiting for the next thing for me to slip up on, and, Ranboo, I’m not gonna fucking slip up, Ranboo. I’m different.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:07, 25th July)

“I’m living in eternal limbo, again. I’ve been through limbo, I’m out of limbo, and socially, I’m still in this limbo.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:36, 25th July)

(Check out the parts under "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character" and "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character" in this post)

"Oh yes, I blew up the nation!" (said with glee) - I make a point of the tone in this specific line, because I could make a point of the tone in the whole song, but this line is a good example. He didn't blow up L'manburg just with glee like "hell yeah! I did it!". Of course he talks about it with pride sometimes, but it's usually either said in the middle of the same impulsive moments in which he'd claim he doesn't care, said with relief of him having control over at least that situation (like him sighing right after doing it just to ask Phil to finish it off by killing him), or said with the same deflection with which he'd claim that not having a grave didn't affect him and was badass actually since he only wanted it for the hateful obituaries anyway (which was a lie, and he admitted it on the third of august stream when saying "I was so pressed about not having a grave" in case you had doubts)

Finally, I want to make emphasis on the fact that: The explosion on the 16th had two main drives behind it and they often get glossed over. The first objectivee was blowing it up and causing just enough destruction to get L'manburg back (You know, when Wilbur still had some kind of hope). After his spiral went further and his paranoia and self-loathing worsened, his two drives become apparent: First was blowing it up to rid the world of the twisted thing L'manburg became, ridding the world of what the twisted version of his ideals became with Schlatt in control of them. Secondly, he wanted to end L'manburg as a part of himself and rid the world of himself completely (by this I'm referencing his suicide), he decided he wanted to die and expected that as a result since a lot of time before the 16th. The explosion was effectively a bigger projection of his suicide, rid the world of both himself and his creation, mixed with his constant desire to protect, it also becomes "rid the world of the corrupted version of L'manburg that became Manburg", because for all intents and purposes, since the important thing about L'manburg was its founding ideals, L'manburg had been dead for a long time at that point.

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times", "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with", and "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" in this post)

#tw self harm mention #tw suicide mention #wilbur #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #wilbur dsmp #revived #revivedbur #alivebur #revived wilbur #derivakat revived #fandom critical #dsmp #dream smp #analysis #c!wilbur analysis

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chaoticpizzalawyerbiscuit · 3 years ago

Note

I just read your Azriel × reader one shot, I think I'm in love ! And I have a request for you. I've been in love with one song and one song only. It hhas never been changed since like very long time , lot's of years. And the song is Lana Del Rey- Love. The feeling that it gives me is just enchanting. English is my second language so sometimes I just shut down my brain for English and just feel the song with its melodies and rhytm. And it always gives me hope but also kinda sad. Like it has been raining hard but now you see rainbow or you missed your lover terribly and now you're kissing them. I think you got what I meant. Can you write someting with Azriel that' gonna make me feel like the song does? I know this might be silly or doesn't make any sense but if you do I would be more than happy and appreciated💖 thank you so much!

Love

Hi! I'm sorry it took me so long to answer you, but here it is!! I hope you enjoy it, darling 🥰 ✨don’t forget to make your own request✨ • I don’t own any of Sarah J. Mass’ characters or any of her plots, I’m just a fan having fun. Also I do not own the images. This is story is mine though, so please do not copy • WARNING! this is VERY angsty and sad, and you might cry and/or explode because of the fluff

My tears dampened the pillow beneath my head. Today, sadness claimed me more than yesterday, sucking the very strength out of me. It paralises me enough that I can’t get out of bed, and that I only wish crawl into a dark corner, staying there forever.

Loneliness was my most hated color. But today, it paints every moment of my miserable existence. And I think it suits me.

∞

The pain blurred my eyes, and I only saw teardrops

The pain took my youth, and left the weight of my mistakes

The pain blurred my days, and I lost track of time

The pain took my soul, and left the monster of my true self

and eventually

The pain blurred my emotions, and I stopped feeling at all.

∞

My mother used to say beautiful words that my young ears never understood. Most of them got lost with time, but one was carved into my very skin.

alight

And yet, even after I learned what it meant, I never got to feel it.

∞

But I should’ve guessed it. Destiny liked me too much to leave me alone as well. So he played the strings one last time, and magic was done. I felt it all again.

The pain blurred my eyes, and I only saw teardrops

The pain took my youth, and left the weight of my mistakes

The pain blurred my days, and I lost track of time

The pain took my soul, and left the monster of my true self

and eventually

The pain blurred my emotions, and I stopped feeling at all.

but I saw his face and

The pain no longer blurred or took anything

The pain was gone.

∞

Azriel, she learned later, was his name. That gorgeous male was her mate, and the classic, beautiful traces of his face never failed to take her breath away.

Once, he asked her, in the middle of the night

“Y/N, why are your eyes so sad?”

He had never seen someone like her, with an indescribable beauty. She was elegant and gracious, fun and unpredictable, but above all, she was intense. And so was her sadness.

What strained his heart the most was her eyes, that even after an eternity of laughter, reflected such a deep suffering. He saw eyes like that on his own face.

The only answer he got was a single teardrop down her cheek.

∞

Turns out, the pain never truly went away. It was just forgotten when she was around him, and because of that, the moments away from him were unbearable.

He found out about this too when he came to see her, and found her crying. Harsh sobs racked through her body, and his gut clenched.

He knelt in front of her, took her face into his scarred hands, and asked

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She whispered. “All of it is so awful, and you are my only light. I drown in grief every day of my life. I feel too much, and feel nothing at all. I want better, but I can’t stop treating myself so awfully.” Her voice raised with every word, and agony filled her. “It hurts. It all hurts.”

He embraced her, pulling her into his warmth, trying to sooth the pain. She laid her forehead on his chest, kneeling with him, and gripped his shirt with an iron grip. She would not loose him as well.

After the tears and sobs, she tried to move away, and he pulled her closer.

Their eyes met, and he laid himself bare to her. Took down all his walls, laid down his guard around himself, and told his entire history to her. Showing her his own pains and fears.

But in that moment, he was too late. Pain had taken everything from her once again.

He flinched when her blank stare met his overwhelmed one.

He tried to move away and succeeded.

She did not pull him closer.

So he left

And she was set alight.

∞

First, pain burned her from the inside.

Second, she was angry, at him and at herself.

Third, she forgave him.

Fourth, she forgave herself.

Fifth, she built courage to face him one last time

∞

He met her at a hillside with a view to the sea. She sat underneath the soft light of the sun, in late afternoon hours. Beside her, there was a panic basket and a pile of books. Her dress fluttered with the passing breeze, the same that caressed her hair. After months of solely thinking of her, seeing that face was a definitive answer. He loved her, with all his might, with all his sorrow and all his happy.

Sitting beside his mate, his heart was at ease, even with the hurt that she caused him.

“Hi” she said hesitantly.

“Hello Y/N”. She shivered with that voice, she missed him so much. There was nothing capable of describing the relief of seeing him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she averted his eyes, “about what happened last time. What I did was wrong, and you deserved a better reaction than the one I gave you. You deserved support.” She looks into his eyes, her voice breaking slightly. “I am so sorry. You were always there for me, and I ended up hurting the both of us when I forgot who I truly am.”

Her gaze went to the sea, and beyond into the horizon. Her chest moved with a soft sigh she exhaled. “I want to tell that it was not intentional to hurt you in a vulnerable moment, and that I’m grateful that you shared with me such a beautiful story. If you want to try things between us again, I I would love to, but if you —

His fingers touched her chin, turning her blushing face towards him. She froze.

“Y/N, I’m sorry too. For not trying to help you earlier, and for letting my fears control my actions so deeply. But the thing I’m most sorry for is the fact that I didn’t come to see you in such a long time. I hurt the both of us as well with my pride, and I wish I could change that. But I can’t change the past, so I offer you this: I love you, Y/N.”

She blinked her teary eyes, and threw her arms around me, a choked laugh passing through her lips. I hug her back, breathing in her scent, and she whispered in my ear: “I love you, Azriel.”

She pulled back slightly, and pressed her lips against mine softly. We join in a slow sweet kiss, my hands on the nape of her neck, and a small humm of delight leaves her.

When we break apart, she lays her forehead against mine.

“Thank you for reminding me,” she says “of who I truly am, and who I’ve always been.”

“And who would be that, my light?” She blushes with the nickname, and answers

“A beautiful star, with her glowing scars and smiles, set alight by love. My love for myself, my mother’s love, your love”

#azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #sweet #angst #request #acomaf #acotar

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

Text

Namjoon

𝔞/𝔫: this will be in Namjoon's POV

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.85K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

My hands flying across the keyboard, I have no room to think about anyone or anything else other than my work. I have no intention to think about anything else.

I've heard it said that there are those with a wasteland in their minds. They are constantly searching for something to give their life meaning, but everything they find isn't good enough. They are constantly trying to break the last record, find a new tune, discover another song to play in their hearts. They can never rest, they never want to rest for if they did they would lose their minds.

Pulling away from the board, I find that I'm shaking. My eyesight is wavering, I can't even think straight.

Am I the same as those lost?

Sighing, I hold my head in my hands.

What am I doing? I have no time to be worrying over things that don't matter. My gaze drifting, I notice a coffee cup on the table beside me, along with a small bag of snacks resting against it. Mildly amused, I stand to investigate, and find a note tied around the bag. Pulling on it, I blink in surprise at the neat but shaky Hangul written there.

Namjoon, I'm not too good at writing in Korean just yet so I hope that this is understandable.

This is a coffee cup, but if you need some water or an energy drink, I placed some beside your bag. This is a little bag of leftover snacks I found at the vending machine.

I'm sorry I couldn't find something better than this, but I hope it's enough for a small pick me up.

Please remember to get some rest tonight, I don't want you working too hard.

-Yen

I don't realize I'm crying until a tear runs from my cheek and lands on the small slip of paper. Surprised, I frantically dry the tear from the paper before holding it close to my chest as though it were my only comfort. The tears continue to run down my face, and I fall to the floor almost sobbing as unexplainable emotions surge through my body. Too fast and too many at once for me to be able to understand.

"Why...why are you so kind?"

Does she even realize the effect she has on my heart? The way she tears and turns it as though it were nothing? She doesn't even have to think twice about her actions. She doesn't do these things to gain something from me, in fact, she expects nothing, and yet...

She makes me want to give her the world.

"What are you talking about?"

Jaejin smiles at the question, almost as though he were dealing with a child who didn't want to let go of their parents on his first day of school. Scoffing almost, I fold my arms in indignation. Since when was I the child in this relationship?

"It's quite simple hyung, I'm going to be away for a couple of months. It's not that big of a deal."

"Not a big deal?!" Reaching forward, I stop him from packing. He looks up at me, a bit surprised. "Jaejin, need I remind you of your position? You can't just leave whenever you see fit. There are policies, systems set in place, responsibilities you have to uphold."

Jaejin rolls his eyes before politely removing my hand from his stuff.

"Namjoon, you didn't think I knew? I've already taken care of everything."

As he pulls away, rummaging in his desk for a pen and sticky note, I stare at him dumbfounded. He's leaving, isn't he? Just when I've come back, now one of my closest and most trusted friends is leaving me behind. Scolding myself, I try to push the feeling of being betrayed to the back of my mind.

Jaejin has a right to pursue his dreams, I shouldn't hold him back. This isn't something to be upset over, I should be happy for him, I should support his decision.

But I don't want to say goodbye.

He must've noticed my expression, for when he next speaks, I can tell his words were meant to comfort me.

"You know, you're going to love Yen."

"Yen?"

"That's the person coming in to replace me."

I stare at him, not wanting to believe his words. He's having someone come in to replace him as my manager? How can he expect someone I don't even know to replace him at my side? Just how long is he planning to stay away?

Almost sensing my discomfort, Jaejin turns to me and places his hand on my shoulder. "There's no reason to worry. Yen will do an amazing job, okay?"

"How can you be so sure?"

At my question, he gets this faraway look in his eye and beckons for me to join him as he settles down in one of the chairs set up at his desk.

"Yen is someone special, you'll probably notice that as you get to know her." I open my mouth to ask him how, but he holds his hand up, already foreseeing my immediate response. I roll my eyes at the gesture, understanding his point and shutting up.

"I'm not just saying this as her friend, she's someone who I think will help you a lot. Though she might not think she's qualified for the job, and she may doubt herself every second of the way, she will try her hardest to be the best she can be." Watching him talk about her, almost as though she were the thing he treasured the most on earth, both confuses and intrigues me. What is she, perfect? No person is, so what's the difference with her?

"Yen is the kind of person who speaks to others through their emotions. She knows when you're sad, angry, tired, she can see it all through a few gestures. With a simple look your way it's as though she can see all the hidden secrets of your soul." In his wistful eyes, I wonder about the history between the two of them. Missed chances, unspoken words, regrets, do they have any of those? The way he talks about her, I don't think they are merely just friends.

"My point is, she'll take care of you. You don't ever have to be afraid of losing yourself when she's around, because she'll always bring you back."

Holding the note in my hands now, the way it feels almost as though she were there right beside me, holding me as I shake from all the built-up pain and frustration, I realize that Jae is right.

She's always there, helping me, supporting me. She gave me a reason to continue, she showed me that I didn't have to take care of everyone all the time. She reassured me that I wasn't alone, that she would stay beside me no matter what happened.

"Your music changes with you, don't you know?"

As she sits across from me, her wide eyes piercing mine with their deep stare, I try to make some sense of her words. Yes, I understand that music changes, but what does that have to do with me and my struggles? I'm afraid I don't love making music anymore, and this is what she responds with?

She smiles almost understandingly at my perplexed expression, and I quickly hide it, unaware I was being so obvious.

"Namjoon, maybe the reason why you feel so trapped is not that you don't love music anymore, but rather because you're trying to recreate something from the past." My eyes widening at the thought, I pull away from the soundboard. Was that what I was doing? Trying to recreate a past sound when the sound inside has already changed?

"Music grows as you grow, it flourishes the same way. Maybe in order to find yourself again, you have to let go of what your music used to be." Turning to her, somehow I know she sees the pain and the fear reflected in my eyes.

What if who I am now isn't good enough? What if this person isn't worthy of his title? What if I've become what I've always been afraid of?

Nothing.

Reaching forward, she takes my hand into her small ones and smiles warmly my way. A smile meant to calm me down, a gesture meant to calm the storm that threatens to rise in my chest.

"That doesn't mean you have to forget, it doesn't mean you have to say goodbye. It just means you have to move on, and grow as you've done before. If there's one thing I know, it's that you are good enough. You are worthy of their love, you are worthy of everything you have ever accomplished."

She smiles somewhat cockily as her eyes locked with mine, almost making me forget my doubt.

"Now, you just have to prove it to them once more."

She taught me what I was doing this for, reminded me why I love music, why I chose this path. It was her light, her passion that showed me the way.

Raising myself off of the ground, and pocketing the note, I turn back to the computer. Back to my work. Wiping my tears, I sit down taking a deep breath before resuming.

I won't let her down.

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMJOON! I hope you have a great birthday, and continue to be the amazing leader you have been for the longest time! I'm looking forward to the day where we can see you again.

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

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pixie88 · 3 years ago

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Oxford to the Cotswolds

Chapter 23 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: So here it is the LAST chapter of Always the Bridesmaid. I kinda feel sad but I know it’s not the end of H&L.Thanks so much @aussieez for proof reading. Thank you again to all those following this story and continue to follow it, you have no idea how much it means to me that you take the time to read.😘

I’m finalizing my tag list for this over the next few days, so again if you like to be tagged just let me know!

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & NSFW

Word Count: 2914

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy! 😘

A week later.

After their little spat, Harry decided maybe now was the time to take up his parents offer of using their cottage. They had their trip planned out, they would leave London on the Sunday morning stop at Oxford for a day or two and get to his parents' cottage on the Tuesday afternoon. "We are staying in an old prison that has been converted into a hotel?" Laila asks as they drove along the M40 "Yeah, I thought it was unusual and right up your street?" he takes his eyes off the road for a second to wink at her "You know the whole cops and robbers thing"

She rolls her eyes and laughs, "I'm guessing you're the criminal?" he smirks. "Nah, I'm a law abiding citizen, my love. You seem like the troublemaker here!" she laughs, "I've been looking up all the sites we need to visit while we are there"

He knew she wouldn't be able to visit a place without doing her research.

"Where do you need to visit then?" she smiles at the fact he asked "So, there is the obvious Bridge of Sighs, which is kind of a copy of the Rialto Bridge in Venice, Carfax tower the views of Oxford, from there are supposed to be amazing, Martyr's Cross which is a cross they have in the road where two Anglican bishops and the Archbishop of Canterbury were burned, oh and there is a Harry Potter tour around the University as some scenes were filmed there and Oxford Castle which is right next door to our prison hotel!"

"Sounds like a couple of days of learning!" he laughs at her "NOT just learning! There is a bar with magical cocktails, ones in test tubes, with fire and even smoke!" she's excited.

Harry doesn't know it, but Laila is a bit of a history buff, if she goes somewhere new she will research the hell out of it. Not long after they moved to London Laila was still adjusting to life in the city, Ezra could see his granddaughter struggling, so he planned a day out with her.

They stood on platform 5 at Harrow and Wealdstone Station "Grandad, where are we going?" she asked him "You will see when we get there!" he smiles at her. The train ride wasn't long. Fifty minutes later they pulled into Bletchley Station "Grandad, why are we here?" he chuckled "And I thought you knew everything about World War 2!" he winks at her, but it doesn't click until 10 minutes later when they were standing outside Bletchley Park.

Laila's eyes are wide "Oh my god!! This....this is where Alan Turing cracked the enigma machine!!" she squealed with excitement before hugging him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she's beaming, she takes his hand and drags him through the doors.

This was one thing he and his granddaughter had in common, was their interest in World War 2. They spent hours looking around the huts where it all happened. He never saw her face light up so much as she looked around at the artefacts. They had a look around Station X (National Radio Centre) and when they finally reached the Mansion Laila was overjoyed "Grandad, just think all those people that helped crack the code have been in this very room...no house!!"

They spend hours looking around, before grabbing something to eat at hut 4 "Grandad, just think this is where they would get lunch or even dinner!" she looks around the hut "Laila, just think while they were here no one knew! They had to lie about working here, they couldn't tell anyone even family members. They had to take a vow of silence" he said.

This rang true, as years later Max was building an annex for a couple at the end of their garden and when he got talking to the Nan, whom the annex was being built for she told him how her mum worked at Bletchley Park and had to take a vow of silence which she kept until the park reopened as a museum in 1994.

When it was time to go home Laila couldn't thank him enough for taking her there "Just don't tell your brothers!" she laughs, "I've taken the Bletchley Park vow of silence!"

They finally arrived, Harry pulls into a parking space outside the hotel and a valet comes over Harry hands him the keys and they head in with their cases. They check in; "you will be on the fifth floor in room 135, so take the lift to the right once you go through those doors. Here is your room key and enjoy your stay!" she smiles. "I'm sure we will!" Harry grins at her before they make their way to their room.

"Did you ever watch the TV show Bad Girls?" Laila asks him as the lift takes them to the fifth floor. "I did! Izzy made me watch it with her. That woman that played Yvonne plays Shirley from Eastenders now, doesn't she?" she laughs, "I thought you don't watch it?" she nudges him as the doors open "I don't but when you put it on what am I supposed to do?" he winks.

"129...130...4 more rooms to go," she calls behind her. "Actually 5 more my love," he laughs, she turns to look at him "No! You don't include our room!" she protests. "I think you do," he laughs at her. "NO! No, you don't," he doesn't argue with her.

They dump their bags and head out to look around the city "Oh, they have a Harry Potter tour" Laila's tone is ecstatic, Harry sighs "Don't you want to do it?" she asks "If you want to we will do it" her eyes scan his face "Did the kids in school use to take the piss out of you in school because you had the same name?" she asks, he laughs, "No, if anything they used to call me...oh what was his fat mate called?"

"Crabbe?" she looks at him. "Yeah, that's the one," he offers a weak smile, she runs her fingers through his hair before her arms cling around his neck "Well, who's laughing now? I bet a lot of the girls and boys that bullied you regret it now! You are handsome, fit, funny and you are mine" she winks, he can't help smiling at her "And I have a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend" he says making her blush.

"We'll do something else," she smiles at him and kisses his lips "No, we'll do the tour if you want to!" she looks how long the tour is "2 hours, argh, I'd rather be doing some kinda cardio" he looks at her confused and she laughs, "use your imagination, you are a personal trainer" she winks. He quickly gets the hint "Right, what do we need to look at before I drag you back to the hotel?" he grins at her.

Later.

After dinner, they had back up to their room, "I'm going for a shower" Laila winks at him "OK, I'll grab one after you," she smirks "I was thinking more along the lines of you joining me," she doesn't have to ask him twice, he picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist as he walks them to the bathroom.

After their shower, Laila notices the chocolate on the bed as she's drying herself. "Oh wow! They're shaped like handcuffs!" she giggles "Hmmm.....that reminds me," he wanders over to his case in just his towel and pulls out a pair of metal handcuffs. "And what do you intend to do with those Mr. Taylor?" she bites her lip "Oh, maybe make an arrest," he winks at her, she notices his arousal through the towel "Oh, on what grounds?" she asks.

"Hmmm....for being stubborn and sarcastic, but also gorgeous, funny, adorable and extremely impossible not to fall in love with" he stands in front of her, pulling off her towel until it drops to the floor. He cups her face, his thumb runs over her lips before capturing them with his, he lifts her arms above her head and his hands run up her arms before he suddenly cuffs her hands.

She smirks against his lips "Oh, PC Taylor, what do I have to do to get you to uncuff me?" his kiss becomes more intense. She drops her hands, so they are wrapped around his neck, he moves them until the backs of her knees hit the bed. They fall onto it with Harry landing on top of her "Well, Miss. Carelli, I think you can convince me somehow" his fingers finds her core.

She hisses at the contact, his other hand comes up and pins her arms above her head as he found her slick petals. "I thought I was the one who had to.....oh shit...convince you to free me," she can barely get her words out, his lips find her pulse line "How exactly are you planning on doing that?" he smirks against her neck.

"Stand up and I'll show you," he does as she says, she sits up and pulls off his towel. Grasping him, she works her hand along him a few times before her mouth follows the same path, he groans as his hips thrust forward in need. Her pillowy lips work along his hardened member, he grunts as her jaw slacks, taking him in further "Fuck...." he mutters.

He rocks his hips back and forth as her tongue runs along the ridges of his cock, he grips a fistful of her hair. His head fell back as he groans, "That's...it gorgeous! Fuck...". She hums against him and her pace moves faster. His knees bucks, her apex is throbbing as she feels him nearing the edge "Laila....I'm...gonna....fuck!" he jerks as he hits his climax and he groans.

She releases him from her mouth and looks up at him. "Are you going to uncuff me now?" she asks as she's sat on her feet, he looks down at her with a grin. He lifts her up and throws her onto the bed, making her giggle "Hey, you said would take these off!" he has a mischievous grin on his face. "Well, Miss. Carelli! I prefer to have you like this, sorry." he captures her lips.

"That's not fair......." she protests, but she soon cuts off as he moves down her body to her centre, his hands grasp the back of both her thighs. His tongue moves apart her folds "Oh Harry!" she moves her arms to run her fingers through his hair. He pulls away, lifts her arms above her head again and kisses her lips "Keep them there!" he tells her before moving back to her core.

Her breathing hitches, he sucks against her clit, making her cry out "Ohhh"

A little later.

His legs are entwined with hers beneath the sheets, she's cuddled up against him as her head rests on his chest "When we get back do you think we should look at properties?" she lifts up and places her hand against his chest stroking his chest hair, looking up to him. He smirks at her, "definitely!" he strokes her hair away from her face "What if we have a look online now?" she stares into his ocean blue eyes and bites her lip waiting for his response.

He reaches for his phone "Let's have a look," he loads up and scrolls through the properties. "What are we going for?" he asks "Somewhere with gates, private drive and pool," she laughs, he digs his fingers into her ribs and she tries to wiggle away "Ahhhh! Harry! Stop!!" his phone is discarded, he cups her face and claims her lips.

His body covers hers and he takes her against.

The next day.

They are back in the car on the way to Harry's parents cottage in Wyck Rissington, Gloucestershire.

Along the way they find a supermarket and grab a few essentials before they continued their drive. They arrive at the cottage 10 minutes later "Aww wow! This is cute!" she smiles as they get out the car. "And it's ours for the next few days" he winks at her.

They head inside, "wow, look at those beams!" she points up at the ceiling. "Have you been here before?" she looks to Harry. "Nah, Mum and Dad haven't let any of us use it...well until now" he winks.

Once they bring in their bags inside, he takes her hand and they have a look around when Harry spots a hot tub outside "Oh, what do we have here?" he nods as he opens the door "I didn't bring a swimsuit!" he has a devilish grin. "Who said anything about swimsuits?" she bit her lip and shook her head at him.

Harry runs Laila a bubble bath with candles around the tub and told her to relax while he cooked dinner. The water was warm against her skin as she sinks into the bathtub, a minute or so later there is a knock on the bathroom door before Harry wanders in with a glass of wine "Here you go, my love," she smiles up at him as she takes the glass "Thank you! So, what's for dinner?"

He leans over kisses her nose and winks "You'll find out when it's on the table. Now enjoy." He leaves her to it.

34 minutes later.

Laila walks into the bedroom and Harry has laid out a dress grey dress on the bed for her to wear. She smiles and starts to get dressed, underneath she puts on some lacy lingerie she had brought for the trip. When she's dressed, she goes in search for Harry, as soon as she saw him, she blushes but can't help but laugh.

"Harry!! What are you doing?" he's stood in the kitchen in just an apron and his boxers, he looks up at her and grins. "You've heard of the Naked Chef right?" he winks. "But he isn't actually naked!" she laughs at him. "I'm not either! I was thinking about it but I thought that would be unsanitary. I see you're wearing the dress I picked out for you." She makes her way over to him.

"Yeah, but the view would be...very sexy," she squeezes his behind "What's for dinner?" she looks around him on the kitchen side "Ah, ah, ah go and sit down," he moves, so she can't see, she sighs, "Fine!" Laila pulls out her phone and sends a picture she took earlier.

Laila looks over to Harry, biting her lip and he catches her checking him out. "You realise I'm not dinner right?" He says. She looks up catching his eye, "might not be dinner, but there is always dessert!" She winks twirling her hair. He chuckles turning back to cooking.

She puts down her phone as he comes over with 2 plates, placing them on table. "Ooo spaghetti and meatballs!" he pours them more wine, Laila twirls her fork collecting the spaghetti "Did you ever see the film The Lady and the Tramp?" she looks over to him. "I have. Mila made me watch it once." He laughs. "Do think we can do a Lady and the Tramp kiss?" she hold up a a string of spaghetti and he chuckles "We can try. Let me put it in my mouth first" Laila cracks and can't help but laugh "OH MY GOD!!"

"Come on, let's give it ago!" He takes the end of the spaghetti and lifts the other side to Laila, she takes it in her mouth and begins to get closer to Harry until their lips are just above each other's. He brushes his lips lightly over hers before pulling away. "Come on, eat up" he smiles at her and she rolls her eyes at him.

After dinner, he takes their plates. "I'll wash them up," she offers. "You can or I can put them in the dishwasher," he jokes, "Actually, you load the dishwasher. I'm going to start up the hot tub!" she gets up from the table "Already done, my love!" he winks at her. "Oh OK!" she stands and lets her dress fall off her shoulders until it's a puddle on the floor.

He looks her up and down. "I didn't bring a swimsuit, but this will do?" say asks as she makes her way to the back door. His eyes never leave hers, she grins, knowing she had him hook, line and sinker. He quickly closes the dish washer and chases after her, she squeals running from him and towards the door.

@lem-20 @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @irisofpurple @khoicesbyk @txemrn @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @tea-me-kah @casualpostqueen @beautifuluknownvoid @wombatsxkookaburras

Their moans fill the night sky, both are blissfully happy.

Series 2 - Chapter 1

#atb #Always The Bridesmaid #final chapter #original writing #harry x laila #oxford #oxford castle #oxford martyr #oxford university #malmaison oxford #Original Work #original character #original story #@pixie 88 original

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failing-to-write-again · 5 years ago

Text

Germany x Ireland!Reader: Snow Storms and Confessions

Ok so the plan was to post another scenario and write two more yesterday. But Tumblr did an oopsie and deleted everything.

Every cloud has a silver lining however, my friend sent me this gem of a find and all I could think about afterwards was this story. I was going to write them as scenarios but I found it difficult to imagine situations for the other characters.

So here's a different story. A one shot...goody.

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

*Ireland's POV*

I sat there cold and alone in the Russian airport terminal. My flight cancelled due to the violent snow storm outside and no hotel room to go to. All the other countries had already left, the usual flights to Ireland weren't available. Just one at 10pm when a blizzard was due. Russia didn't exactly give a direct response when I brought it up...

*flash back*

"Little Ireland! You are feisty small one, you're lack of fear is amusing."

"I'm not being feisty I just want to know why there's none of the usual planes to my country. I don't want to end up caught in the blizzard"

"Она умнее, чем выглядит...I don't involve myself petty plane issues. Perhaps this is fate, you believe in a lot of those magical fairy tales no?"

she's smarter then she looks

"Она также говорит по-русски. Что ты прячешь?"

she also speaks Russian. What are you hiding?

*flash forward to present*

Just before I could pry, Germany got the meeting started and I was left to get to my seat and ponder over Russia's behaviour. He's a strange study for sure.

Germany was as well. We became properly acquainted in the early 1900s only labelling ourselves as friends around the 70s when I joined the early version of the EU (then EEC). He definitely is a layered character, and even though he is sweet once I became closer with him, he seems to still be hiding aspects of his personality. But enough about that I'm cold and have to figure out where I'll sleep tonight.

"Ireland? Vhat are jou doing here?"

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive...

"Hey Germy, my flight got cancelled and it was the only one available, my hotel booking also ran out so I'm just sorta stuck here haha."

A rather enjoyable shade of red spread across his face at the mention of the nickname. I'd do anything to see those little cracks in his tightly woven character. Anything to see the little smiles or chuckles, the crush I'd developed over years of friendship pushing me to.

"V...Vell mein flight vas cancelled as vell...vould you like to share a hotel room vith me? I still have an extra day."

Panic.

"I wouldn't be against it, but you probably would like to not share a room so I understand if you don't want to and everything. Thanks for the offer though"

"Nein it's fine I don't mind ve're friends ja? It's ok!"

The air is so fucking uncomfortable. Big brother France is looking on in disappointed from Paris. I just know it. After a few more rounds of pitiful back and forth we agreed we both were ok with sharing a room and set off, chittering throughout the walk.

*[insert timeskip joke] Germany's POV*

Ireland was in the bathroom getting ready for bed as I sat mentally preparing to sleep beside her.

At some point my feelings of friendship began to be replaced with... love as Italy put it. I thought I was ill whenever my heart would flutter like a manly butterfly near her. After voicing my concerns to my brother and Italy, bruder proceeded to have a laughing fit. Italy took the time to gush about love long enough for me to come to the conclusion I was in it.

Ireland. She's not perfect by any means and we've had our fair share of arguments and disagreements. Though we always manage to work then out. Would it be the same if we were dating? I would be living in a dream if that was true...

The door opened and in she came. In the shorts she wore for sleep her false leg was on full display. I remember helping her make it, replacing the standard wooden one for a metal one with upgrades bring added whenever we visited eachother or were together in our free time from longer summits. The leg, essentially fully functional due to her use of spells and my use of metal. Light blue swirls, famous for their use in her history giving off a slight hum in the dark room, dancing up and down the metal limb. Gott she was an angel.

"That meeting left me a wreck." She stifled a yawn, lowering herself slowly to the bed beside me. The blue began to fade slowly as she stopped using magic, bleeding up her leg until disappearing once it reached the end of the metal at her upper thigh. "How does it vork?" I lowly hummed.

"The magic I use to move the leg? It's a weird mix of electricity and telekinesis. I use the electricity to stimulate the metal wires and pistons you put into it and use the telekinesis to make it move in a more natural way. I just wish it didn't glow, it makes it impossible to hide"

Hide? Why hide it? It's beautiful...is it inappropriate to say that out loud? I settle on a less invasive response.

"Why hide it? The blue looks like the tattoo you always joke about getting?"

She went quiet did I go to far? No she always said when I went too far same as I always did if our discussions on my...past got too vivid...She continued.

"When I lost my leg, I lost a part of myself. The image of the country who would fight anyone to be free, that had the confidence of countries ten times her size, it was gone. I kept up the act in letters and statements acting like the leg didn't phase me...Then I got to finally see my siblings again. None of them were allowed near me after one of my attempts for freeedom out of fear I'd help them escape or convince England to go rogue against his boss. They watched me struggle to do anything, they watched me have to ask for help to move, they watched me weak. It's been hard adjusting...then..."

She took a deep breath and looked up. Something she often did when trying not to cry. I gently lay a hand on her back and put on the calmest voice I could.

"Then vhat? Take jour time, I know it's difficult, but please tell me vhat happened?"

"I met someone. They helped me without even realising it. They slowly built up my confidence in myself, taught me how to laugh and smile like I used to. Obviously my family helped but the help from this person stuck with me more I suppose. He built me up, tried to help when he didn't have to."

He. My world slowly shattered and fell around me. So she has somebody else. Someone better. Someone who can show her all the love they probably expect being raised by someone like France and England.

"Oh...vill jou tell me more about him?"

She let a slow smile spread across her face.

"He's kind and sweet but covers it over with a stiff outer shell. He has many talents...so many talents. He's amazing really, but one thing in particular is what I think made me fall for him."

"Vhat vas it? That he did"

I was probing. I was pushing too far into her private life. If she never spoke about him in all our years of friendship, she had a reason not to. She's a damn ex-spy and rebel leader she knows how much to trust people. But...I didn't care. I wanted to know. Needed to. I had loved her for years only for her to slip away the moment I had started working to con-

"He built me a new leg. Then he called it pretty and sleek and said he liked the blue the magic made on it."

Oh...this was...not what I expected. I was the one who built the leg...she knows that...she...she...

"Ireland I..."

I slowly pulled her gently, she was straddling me so I could look into her eyes.

"Do jou really. But vhat I've done. How could jou?"

"Fall for a lovable human being? It's rather simple. I'm just hoping you'll give this amputee a chance."

She looked at me hopefully through her eye lashes. At that moment I realised why us Germans aren't seen as great romantics. We're better at doing, not speaking. So do I did.

I kissed her. Pouring every piece of emotion I felt for her, because of her into it. Desperately trying to show her how much I cared regardless of how bad I'd be at saying it. And it was bliss. My pulse was racing faster then any of my, no Germany's, F1 cars.

She was with me, not my country, not my people, ME. And I'm going to be selfish.

Her soft warm lips, pushing against my colder ones. Tasting like that brand of chocolate she loves mixed with the minty taste of toothpaste. Her arms, laying around me neck, playing with the hairs on the back of my head. My arms, pulling her closer filling every gap between us I could find. I was in heaven, kissing an angel, and I wasn't going to give it up for anything. The entire world could be damned so long as she was in my arms. Everything Italy, France, Spain, Bruder, and all the other countries preached about love suddenly clicked. I loved her. I never wanted to leave her side. I wanted to be her hero, her Ritter (knight), her lover.

And by the way she was kissing back she wanted to be mine.

*POV switch*

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HE'S KISSING ME!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I'M KISSING HIM!

AAAHHHHHHHH!!!

I barely thought of anything else, all I could focus on was getting drunk off his kisses. He was kissing me like the world was ending and I loved it.

At some point it went from me in his lap to beneath him on the bed, staring into icy blue eyes.

"vell..." He drawled "ve have a hotel room, a snow storm. no ozher countries on zhis floor, or anyvone for that matter until tomorrow. and a very horny country. vhat do jou suppose ve do Ms.Ireland?"

I spoke before my mind could think. "Well Mr.Germany. A second, equally as horny country is beneath you so the real question is...Was wirst du dagegen tun?

What are you going to do about it?

Snap.

"Ich heiße nicht deutschland Ich heiße ludvig" he growls out. Responds very well to German if the kisses are any proof.

My name isn't Germany. My name is Ludwig

I leant up to whisper in his ear..."Es ist gut zu wissen, was ich später schreien werde. Ich bin (Y/N)."

It's good to know what I'll be screaming later. I'm (Y/N).

I hear a growl before my hands are held above my head with kisses attacking my neck...If this was Russia's plan for only having only one flight home then he's getting cookies next meeting.

*both POV*

Thank God/Gott for snow storms.

#germany hetalia #hetalia #hetalia one shots #germany x reader #ludwig beilschmidt #1p Germany #doitsu

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