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vittoriaisfuckingpathetic · 9 months ago

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save me from the nothing i've become

rated M | read it on ao3 | 3k words | next chapter

John’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. He had no idea that Abigail had settled down. “I– I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a feller,”

She tilted her head, appearing confused. Then, understanding washed over her. “Oh, John, I’m not…” She shook her head. “I’m not married.”

She could tell he was still (justifiably) confused, so she continued. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. John, this is my son, Jack… Jack Marston.”

1899. Three months after the dissolution of the Van Der Linde gang, John reunites with Abigail, whom he hasn't seen in 5 years. Unbeknownst to him, she's kept a part of him with her the whole time.

NOVEMBER 1894

That fateful evening, everything had seemed relatively normal. Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Abigail approached John at the campfire. The New Austin heat had cooled as the sun went down, and now there was a chill in the air. As such, he had been sitting with Arthur and Javier, the latter strumming his guitar somewhat aimlessly.

“John? Can I talk to you?” She asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He looked her up-and-down. There was something wrong, her body language was off, her voice a little shaky. She’d been acting standoffish and strange lately, so he’d been giving her space. Perhaps she was upset by it, and they’d likely argue. But then they’d go back to normal soon enough, as they always did.

She glanced at the other two men. Arthur was nodding off, and Javier was paying no attention, instead focused on his guitar. She cleared her throat. “Can we talk alone?”

John raised an eyebrow, but complied nonetheless. He grabbed his jacket off of the ground first, slightly put off by the fact that he had to leave the warmth of the campfire. Abigail lead him to the area overlooking the rocky cliffside, where two sideways barrels sat as makeshift seats. She gestured to one of the barrels. John sat, confused.

He looked at her, tilting his head. “You alright?” He was starting to get a little worried.

“No. Yes. I will be.” She sat down on the other barrel gingerly, folding her hands in her lap.

Her confusing answer did little to abate his worries. On instinct, he shrugged his jacket off and placed it around her shoulders. She accepted the gesture with little gusto.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” he assured her.

Abigail nodded tensely. She shook her head, a humorless chuckle escaping her throat. “Christ, I just.. I’ve been tryin’ to figure out the best way to say this. Spent all day tryin’ to come up with the words and I still can’t.”

John was silent as he waited for her to continue.

She was quiet for a good while, staring up at the stars. The sky was an inky black, and the cosmos twinkled in a cloudless sky. “I just— I can’t keep doin’ this, John.”

His heart sunk. What did she mean by that? Couldn’t continue with their relationship? He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong lately, besides being a little distant. But they both liked their space at different points, and it was never an issue before, so why would it be a problem now?

John opened his mouth. Closed it. “I… you’re breakin’ up with me?” He let out an awkward sort of breathy laugh as a nervous tic.

Abigail pursed her lips, mulling over her words. She shook her head. “No. I need out of this,” she gestured loosely. “This life, I can’t do it.”

What else would she do? She hated her life before. Was her old life really better than whatever existence she’d carved herself in the gang?

“So… you’d rather go back to prostitutin’?” He asked, indignant. He felt immediate regret upon seeing her expression. The way her mouth pressed into a thin line and her brow furrowed.

She stomped her foot angrily, a cloud of dust rising from the impact. “That ain’t what I’m sayin’ and you know it! Christ, you can be so—“ She cut herself off with a clench of her fists.

“So what are you sayin’, then? You leavin’ ‘cause ‘a me?” He stood up, rising to his full height. He was just about ready to storm off and leave.

“Will you get your head outta your own ass for a minute an’ listen to me? This ain’t helpin’ nothin’!” She threw her hands in the air, gesticulating with an air of anger.

John sat back down with a huff. “I’m sorry. Go on.” he forced out. He had so many questions, so much more he wanted to add. But he’d hear her out; deep down, he knew she was right. Arguing wouldn’t help her explain herself.

She shook her head sadly, not meeting his gaze. “It ain’t nothin’ against you, John. You know how much I care about you. But I gotta do what’s best for me.” She hugged herself — hugging the jacket, John’s jacket, closer.

“And?” he pressed.

Her arms were still crossed, but the ire was gone from her voice. “I need to feel safe, and livin’ on the run with a bunch’a criminals ain’t safe. I have to protect myself.”

Rationally, John couldn’t argue with her logic. But the thought of losing her hurt more than he could have ever thought.

He said nothing in response — Hell, what even could he say?

Abigail reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry, John. I ain’t doin’ this to hurt you.” She let out a sigh, and when she finally met his gaze, her eyes were misty. “I already know what your answer is gonna be. But I have to ask, ‘cause I’ll spend the rest of my life kickin’ myself if I didn’t. Will you come with me?”

His mouth went dry. There were two clear-cut paths laid out in front of him.

He could keep living this life — wild, lawless, dangerous. All the freedom he could want and all the danger that came with it. Going to sleep and wondering if he’d be greeted with a torched camp and a knife in his throat in the morning. The constant brushes with death and the exhilarating temptation it brought.

Or a life with Abigail. Freedom — but in a very different way; experiencing the wild, untamed world with the woman he loved by his side.

That meant no more gang. No more safety net. No more stability. No more Arthur or Hosea or Grimshaw or Dutch.

Dutch…

He thought of how Dutch would react, shuddering. He’d be labeled a traitor… and maybe Dutch would be right for it. After all, how selfish could he be? To leave his family, even if it was for Abigail? He couldn’t do that, could he? They needed him.

But Abigail wanted him. Yet she was willing to leave, seemingly with or without him. She’d survived much longer without him. True, she didn’t need him. But did the gang need him? Surely they did, he put his due effort in and in turn they took care of him. He owed the whole gang so much.

He bowed his head down, unwilling to see the look on her face when he rejected her. “I… I can’t.” You fucking coward.

Abigail nodded, seeming like she expected this. “I know,” she said sadly. She rose from the barrel she was sitting on. Silhouetted by moonlight, the grayish jacket on her almost looked like a pair of angel’s wings.

Perhaps, she was an angel, of sorts. She wasn’t meant to stay in Hell with him. She was meant to soar to the heavens, far above this life.

She was leaving. She was leaving him. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, a dull ache blooming in his chest. “Wait. Abigail?”

“Yeah?”

He couldn’t let her leave without saying it at least once. He exhaled shakily. “...I love you,” It felt only fair that if she was going to shatter his heart, he may as well give it to her fully.

She gave him a sort of sad smile. “I know you do, John. I know you do.”

And just like that, she was gone, like smoke dissolving in the air, having left his heart adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

OCTOBER 1899

FIVE YEARS LATER

Three months.

Three months had passed since everything had fallen apart.

He had rode until the horse he’d stolen (after Old Boy had been shot out from under him) until it dropped. Then another, and another after that, until he’d passed through West Elizabeth. He spent his time roaming New Austin for a few weeks, then he went north into New Mexico.

John wandered the desert almost as a ghost, wandering from place to place aimlessly. He was far enough away that he hadn’t seen any Pinkertons, and he’d done his due diligence to cover his tracks.

He hadn’t fully let his guard down yet, but he felt confident enough to stay in a settlement for more than a day or two.

That was how he had found himself in his newest haunt. For the southwest, it was a decently big town — one by the name of Brimstone. It wasn’t quite the size of Blackwater, but it was close to as large, and besides, it was a good place to lie low.

John hitched his newest horse in front of a water trough. “Go ‘head, get yourself a drink, miss. You’ve earned it,” he said, smoothing his hand down her mane.

He’d stolen the Gypsy Cob from a rather bold bounty hunter (who’d unfortunately caught a bullet in between his eyes). She was a pretty thing, white splashed-bay coated with soul-stirring blue eyes. “I’ll be back, lady. Think I’m gonna get myself a drink an’ find us a place to stay.” He had no reason to speak to the horse, but he’d been sorely lacking conversation as of late.

The horse, naturally, didn’t answer him back, getting herself a well-deserved drink.

The town’s saloon was right across from where he’d hitched his horse. It was a short walk inside, every step made a little more excruciating by the sun beating down on him.

God, he was filthy. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t caked in sweat.

The saloon, of course, housed degenerates of all sorts — the exact people John fit in seamlessly with. However, it was fairly empty, considering it was high noon.

All the better. Meant less people would talk to him. The wooden floors creaked under every step he took, drawing the attention of the few patrons inside.

John fished a coin out of Arthur’s his satchel and apathetically tossed it onto the bar.

The bartender looked at him curiously. “You new ‘round these parts, stranger?”

“Guess you could say that,” John replied impassively. “Gimme a whiskey.”

The bartender poured him a shot and slid it to him. “You look rough, partner.”

“Feel rough,” John muttered before tossing his head back and downing the shot. The acrid taste and slight sting in his throat made him feel a little bit less like a zombie.

The room was quiet for a moment. The only other patrons were either sad drunks half-asleep on the floor, or crusty old men playing cards.

It was a downright depressing environment. Then again, he supposed he fit in perfectly with that.

“We got rooms and a bath upstairs, if you need ‘em. Fifty cents for both.” The bartender informed him.

John sighed deeply. He reached into the satchel blindly, then placed a dollar coin on the counter. “That should cover me for about one bath and three nights.”

“Thank you kindly, sir. Can I get you anythin’ else?”

“Nope,” John replied tersely. “Just the bath.”

“Sure, partner. Bathroom’s upstairs, first door on the right.”

He muttered a thanks in reply and pushed himself away from the bar.

As swiftly as he could manage, John sorted himself out. There was no reason to be hurried, but months of being on the run, it had become a habit to do just about everything quickly. After all, he had no idea when he’d next have to pack his things and go.

That had been his reality ever since the Blackwater incident. For most of the year, there was always someone hot on his tail, only now he didn’t have the safety in numbers that being in the gang provided.

Firstly, set down the few items he owned inside his rented room. Soon after scrubbing himself clean in a rather tepid bath, shaving, and putting on (semi) clean clothes, John walked outside, the blazing sun still high in the sky. According to the bartender, there was an open-air market the next street over. He needed supplies; it had been almost two weeks since he’d bought anything, and his rations were getting uncomfortably low. Should he have to flee town suddenly, he’d probably be up shit creek without a paddle.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have any money. When Arthur gave him the satchel, there was a ridiculous amount of money with it.

Arthur…

It still hurt to think about him. Hurt to think about a lot of people. All the people he’d lost.

Hosea. Miss Grimshaw. Lenny. Sean. Kieran. Jenny. Mac. Davey.

Even Abigail, though she wasn’t a direct consequence of Dutch’s insanity. Though it had been years, he still felt her absence keenly. Almost like a wound that never quite healed. She haunted his thoughts nearly every day — but did she still think of him?

He had no idea if she was even alive. And now, it would be nigh impossible to find her with the bounty on his head.

Perhaps it was fate that he ended up completely alone. He’d spent his formative years alone on the streets, and now it was much the same.

Of course, the difference was that he knew how to take care of himself.

Still, he was just as alone as he’d been then.

The open-air market was much larger than he expected. Not only that, but it was rather crowded considering the time of day.

Merchants came from decently far, but considering Brimstone was the only town for miles, it made sense. The closest town was Tumbleweed, and it had taken him about two days to get from Tumbleweed to Brimstone.

He was perusing the lackluster selection of fruit — granted, it was hard to get a nice selection of produce all the way out in the desert. A kindly old woman was selling plums, upselling to him about how they were the best locally-grown fruit you could find in Brimstone.

His stomach growled at the prospect of having something fresh to eat. He’d been living off of canned food and jerky (when he remembered to stop and actually eat, that was) for months.

“How much will it be?”

“Five cents, sir,”

He fished around inside his satchel until he found a quarter and placed it in her wrinkled hand. Then, he grabbed a second plum. “Keep the change, ma’am,”

She grinned. “Bless you, young man.”

Sometimes, it was the simplest acts of kindness that made him feel a little less like an irredeemable monster.

John nodded at the old saleswoman, then continued to wander aimlessly. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted to buy, but he was hoping something else would catch his eye the way the plums did.

The trapper’s stand didn’t have much that interested him, but he did stroll by a little slower upon seeing a few of the pelts. Nothing was quite attention-grabbing enough, and after a moment he continued on.

Until he stopped dead in his tracks — because the woman just a few yards ahead looked eerily familiar.

It couldn’t be… could it?

Abigail.

He’d recognize her anywhere. The woman who had haunted his dreams every day since she had left his life.

She looked good. Happy. Relaxed. Healthy. All adjectives that couldn’t be used to describe himself.

She turned to face him — and when their eyes met, it was as if time had completely frozen. He forgot how to speak, how to stand, how to breathe. His mind played those last moments between them, how she had left him with his heart in her palm.

“Wait. Abigail?”

“Yeah?”

“...I love you,”

“I know you do, John. I know you do.”

“John?”

“Abigail,” he whispered. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. He pushed away the urge to run to her, scoop her into his arms and never let go, instead walking to her at a slightly hurried pace. He bumped into indignant townsfolk, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. His sights were solely on Abigail. John had complete tunnel vision; all he could focus on was her.

He was enraptured yet again by her bright blue eyes. They seized all the sadness in his heart when she looked at him.

“It’s, um, it’s really good to see you,” He finally said, dumbly. He mentally kicked himself. He’d been thinking about this moment for five years and that was the best he could come up with?

His only other want was to take her into his arms and kiss her like he’d never see her again. He had so many questions for her. How long had she been here? Why was she in Brimstone, the middle of nowhere, of all places?

“I heard what happened, it was in all the papers," she said, face scrunched in concern. “...You look like death.”

How he’d missed her. He thought about her so often, wondering what a reunion between them would be like.

"Thanks," he replied, accompanied by a dry laugh, "I feel like death."

She reached out to touch him, just a brush of her hand against his chest. Still, it made his heart flutter.

“...I thought you were dead,” she added quietly.

John could say the same about her. He sighed, trying to ignore the memories she unwittingly dredged up. “I was one of the lucky ones,”

“Karen? Arthur? Hosea?”

He simply shook his head, eyes downcast. There was so much he needed to tell her. It would surely take hours just to cover everything that had happened this year alone.

She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “God, I’m sorry,”

At that moment, a little boy — one with eyes that were the same blue as Abigail’s — decided to make his presence known, tugging on Abigail’s skirt insistently. “Mama, what are we doin’?”

John’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. He had no idea that Abigail had settled down and had children. “I– I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a feller,”

She tilted her head, appearing confused. Then, understanding washed over her. “Oh, John, I’m not…” She shook her head. “I’m not married.”

She could tell he was still (justifiably) confused, so she continued. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. John, this is my son, Jack… Jack Marston.”

#red dead redemption fanfic #rdr fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #johnigail #john marston x abigail roberts #john marston #abigail roberts #john marston fanfic #jack marston #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #vittoria.doc

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prophet-of-booba-lady · 4 years ago

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Alcina Dimitrescu Soulmate AU Head Cannons

Red string of fate!

Alcina 100% didn't believe the red string story. Didn't believe people who told her about their strings that they could see plain as day on their own fingers.

She just didn't believe! She didn't have one what made others think that int heir delusional minds that they had a magical string tied to their pinkies.

Yeah until one appeared. She honestly couldn't remember when it first appeared, possibly around the 90's and early 2000's but again she didn't pay attention to such frivolous things.

Yeah.. that was until she couldn't ignore it seeing as you had officially come knocking at her door.

Who were you?

What do you mean you're her soulmate?

Shocked Pikachu face

Let's you come in obviously.

You're a bit shocked when she tells you she has daughters but when three swarms of flies comes to greet you and forms three girls... Your a little less worries that your soulmate is married.

"you're daughters are-"

"Beautiful I know"

It will take her longer to accept you than any of the other lord's with their soulmates because as I said she thought those as fake.

You know like when people say 'i was planning to kms by the time I'm 18. But now I'm 20 and I don't know what to do" it her but with soulmates.

"I never planned on being in a relationship but now my so called soulmate is banging at my door angrily cause I locked them out what do I do?"

👀👀👀 idk Alcina close your curtains and turn the lights out? I don't think that will make them leave though.

Can and will hang you by your shirt from tall statues and just walk away so you will stop talking about soulmate activities. She has kids to raise; she ain't got time for fun soulmate activities.

When she does finally accept you that's when she starts taking you places with her and her daughters and you find out that they do fun stuff but they just didn't let you come because you wouldn't stop yabbering on 'SoUl mATe' this and 'REd sTrINg' that. It was really annoying.

I don't blame you though. I'd act the same way if Alcina was my soulmate.

-The Prophet

#Alcina Dimitrescu #res8 #head Cannons #House Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescus #Alcina resident evil #resident evil head cannons #chatacter head cannons #alcina x reader #soulmate AU #fight me this lady is a woman of s c i e n c e

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

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Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist Here

AO3 Link Here

‘Hello, Miya-san? Yes, please don’t worry, Shino-chan is fine, just that your husband hasn’t come to pick her up?’ the nervous childcare assistant murmurs her apologies as she hangs up, ready to dial Atsumu to chew him out for yet another display of his bloody lack of responsibility. But it’s no use because Atsumu’s number is engaged, and after five minutes, she gives it up as a lost cause and after a moment’s hesitation, dials the other number most used on her phone.

‘Samu – I’m so sorry to trouble you, could you…? Yes – Atsumu forgot to pick her up again. I’m sorry – I’m at work so I can’t just step out… Thanks ‘Samu – I owe you again’.

She sighs, leaning her head against the cubicle wall in her office toilet. Then she squares her shoulders before heading back to her cubicle, preparing to tackle the stack of work on her desk until office hours end.

She picks Shino up from Onigiri Miya later that night, promising treats to her daughter to persuade her to give up her perch from Osamu’s neck.

‘He’s an ass’, he tells her, voice heavy with sympathy, and she lets herself rest her head on his shoulder.

‘Yes, you’ve told me that’, she responds with a tired smile. ‘Maybe I should’ve listened’.

He pats her back, and she departs with Shino in hand.

A storm blows into the city from the sea, so she shutters the windows and locks the doors, but the house still shakes from the blitz of thunder and lightning. She rocks Shino to bed, and sings her to sleep amidst the gale wailing outside their walls.

She can hear the jangle of keys and opens the front door to let Atsumu in. He ignores her baleful glare and shoulders his way in, dripping rainwater all over the floor.

‘Well?’ she demands, hackles rising at his sullen silence. ‘Would you like to explain how you managed to forget to pick up your daughter from childcare today?’

‘It just slipped my mind, alright?!’, he replies, face arranged into a sneer, and with a few strides he’s already halfway to their room, back turned against her. ‘You don’t need to make a big fuss about everything all the time’, he says, his hand on the doorknob.

‘Atsumu!’ she snaps, her fists clenched by her side. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to keep bothering Osamu to help clean up your messes? Could you dig deep and grow the fuck up so you can act like a decent husband and father for once? I wish I listened to Osamu when he warned me about you, even before we started going out’.

He whirls around and grabs her wrist in a painful grip, a blaze growing in his eyes. ‘All I ever hear from you these days is Osamu this, Osamu that. If goddamned Osamu is so fucking perfect, why didn’t you just marry him when you had the chance? It would’ve been easy enough to pass Shino off as his, aren’t I right?’

‘Maybe I should’ve - then I wouldn’t be in such a state’, she snarls, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. ‘But my fate was sealed the moment I was stupid enough to fall in love with you instead.’

He snorts through his nose, the sound bitter, twisted. ‘Well, the feeling ain’t mutual, darlin’. Who said I ever loved you?’

She reels back from the force of his words, the bruises on her wrist nothing compared to those in her heart. His eyes widen in shock – but he does not take his words back.

The rain turns the apartment freezing cold and she shudders, fighting the urge to shrink into herself, counting the seconds in the strained stillness between them before stepping tentatively towards him to cup his face in her hands.

‘What’s with you, Atsumu?’ she asks, more gently this time. ‘This isn’t like you.’

Her words break his silence, and he sinks onto the couch with a groan, dropping his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been offered a chance to play in Italy for a year, and MSBY’s agreed to let me go for a season. I just haven’t told you yet’, he finally says, shoulders hunched.

‘Are you going to accept it?’ She manages to ask, a lump of ice lodging itself at the back of her throat, choking the airflow to her lungs.

He nods mutely, and a storm erupts in her heart.

‘Gods, Atsumu. Does it mean nothing to you that you have a wife and child now? Couldn’t you have talked to me first before making such a move? You know I can’t just up and leave Japan with my job and Shino. Are you going to just get up and leave? What’s going to happen to us?’

‘I’m just tired of all of this, ok?’ He shouts, jumping to his feet, his tone sharp enough to pierce right through her heart. ‘We got married and had a kid so fuckin’ young, and there’s so much out there that I could be chasing that I wonder sometimes if all of this is a mistake’.

‘You asked me to jump off a cliff. This is what you wanted, Atsumu, don’t you dare pin this on me!’ she screams back, not even bothering to staunch the bleeding from her multitude of wounds.

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound drenched with bitterness and contempt.

‘Osamu fuckin’ talked me into it – do you think I actually wanted all of this?’ he says, with a callousness she always knew he was capable of but never experienced first-hand. ‘I wish I'd never listened to him, I should’ve just stayed away. Then all of my problems – all of this - would’ve never existed.’

His words finally strike the breath from her lungs, and she chokes, chilled to the bone, unable to speak as she watches him grab his bag and storm out of the house again.

‘He’s not picking up my calls either’, Osamu tells her, when she drops by his store a day later. ‘I could hunt him down for you and beat some sense into his thick head’.

‘Don’t bother’, she says, shaking her head. ‘He’ll resent me even more if you take my side again’.

‘What are you going to do then?’ Osamu asks, the steam from freshly cooked rice rising between them.

‘Come home’, her mother said when she called to break the news, her words ringing clear even over the cacophony of threats her older brothers make in the background about ‘slicing that bastard’s balls off with a knife’. She'd be lying if she said she weren't tempted by the promise of her family's support - her father had always taught her to run for the bamboo grove if there were ever an earthquake, to trust in the strength of the bamboo’s roots to hold the foundations of the earth in its place. But she’s built a career in the city, a life for her and Shino in a small apartment between buildings that seem to burst through the clouds in the sky, and she’s not sure she can walk away from all that just yet.

‘I don’t know’, she says to Osamu. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out along the way’.

Atsumu evades all of her attempts to talk through matters again, and a month later, he’s packed his bags, ready to get on a flight to Italy. He pauses to kiss Shino goodbye, and slips her two stuffed toys – a fox and a jackal, and she almost smiles at the sentimentality of it. Then he turns to her but does not look her in the eye.

‘It’s ok to forget me as long as you remember that we have a child’, she says softly.

He parts his lips to respond but decides against it, eyes hardening as he drops his set of house keys and his wedding ring on the countertop by the front door and storms off.

She does not cry until Shino is safely tucked into bed, and she finds Atsumu’s old jacket, carelessly thrown in a heap at the back of the closet. She holds it close to her chest, breathing in the memories sewn into its seams, and lets herself finally break.

‘Miya-san, I saw on the news that your husband is playing in Italy now. We’re all so surprised you didn’t go with him?’ Yuna-san asks in a too-loud voice, and she has to suppress a cringe when the rest of the office hyenas swoop in, hungry for a kill.

‘We decided that I should stay in Japan to ensure Shino has some stability in her life’, she answers with a tight smile, the practiced statement she and Atsumu’s manager eventually agreed on spilling easily from her mouth. The ladies slink away, and she sighs in relief.

Atsumu thankfully heeds her words and sends money and gifts to Shino, and even calls their little girl twice weekly, so she still manages to recognise her father - she’s grateful for that.

He only responds to her texts once, when she messages him to let him know that Shino got admitted to the hospital for a high fever, but seemed to be responding well to treatment, and would be discharged the next day. He promised to pay the hospital bill, and said nothing more. She does not allow herself to be crushed by her disappointment and stops texting him after that.

Osamu does his best to step in to fill Atsumu’s shoes in his absence, fetching Shino from childcare and letting her hang around his shop until she’s done with work. He spoils her with far too much affection and food, doling both out interchangeably, and his staff and customers treat the little girl like their mascot.

‘Thank you for all of this’, she says one night, when Osamu insists on walking her and Shino home. ‘I’m sorry for making you clean up Atsumu’s mess.’

‘Don’t thank me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be blamed for stepping in to meddle with ‘Tsumu in the first place’ he responds with a strained laugh.

‘Don’t be’, she responds, pressing a chaste kiss to Osamu’s cheek. ‘Your interference gave me Shino. I could never regret that’.

But Osamu can never fully step into Atsumu’s place - they may look heartbreakingly similar but he is not her husband, a fact she’s painfully reminded of when they drive back to Hyogo to the Miya family home for Obon without Atsumu. She does her duty with her head held high and Shino strapped to her back, placing the offerings by the family graves, releasing lanterns down the lake to guide the Miya ancestral spirits back to the mortal realm, but the matriarch of the family sniffed her disapproval when Atsumu’s mother shakily informs her that he isn’t visiting this year.

‘You’re his wife - what good are you for if you can’t even make your husband come back home’, the old lady snapped.

She bent herself into a low bow to murmur a litany of apologies, shaking her head minutely at Osamu before he even tries to put his foot in his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her - dear boy that he is, but he does not deserve the burden of his brother’s sins, and she will not let him go to battle for her when she can hold her own - until the old lady stalks off, only vaguely appeased. The smile on her face for the rest of the night is unflinching but she still cries herself to sleep because she hates herself for being so goddamned stupid - it should have occurred to her that chasing Atsumu into the eye of the storm would leave her with nothing more than a ruined home and a broken heart.

But when the morning dawns and the sunrise reflects its colours in her daughter’s eyes, she’s reminded afresh that she's a knife maker’s daughter, and her spine is forged with steel. So she hammers the pieces of her heart back together and does not let herself break again.

The months pass and the pain recedes. It slowly becomes easier to breathe.

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thehltwoghosts · 4 years ago

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Enigmatic Symbolism Of Ocean/Ship/Star

Ocean = A lifetime

We sailed the ocean and drowned in the waves.

Waves try to break it, I’d do anything to save it.

Waves = Management / Difficulties

My hands, your hands tied up like two ships.

I want to build you a boat, one that’s strong as you are free.

Ship = Soul

I think I’m gonna win this time riding on the wind and I won’t give up. I roll and I roll, ‘til I change my luck.

Wind = A reminder of memories that holding you together and moved you forward

Whistles = Voices of memories

You’ve got stars, they’re in your eyes

Star = A guidance coming from your lover’s eyes

Interpretation:

Louis and Harry made a lot of references about ocean/waves/stars. Not just with the lyrics but with their tattoos. They tried to show their life by choosing sea life as their representation. Harry has got a star (under it “won’t stop ‘till we surrender…”), swallow, ship, anchor; Louis has got a compass and a rope tattoo. Shall we interpret the lyrics while holding the tattoos in our minds and witness their life from a different perspective? We shall…

For set the scene; Imagine a ship in the middle of the ocean, alone. There’s no guidance to show him where it goes, there’s no company to accompany it. There’s no hope for survival. Every second it stays here, it sinks deeper due to waves keep increasing around. Wind doesn’t stop by and whistles. The sky is dark, clarified from stars. There’s nothing which ship has to move forward or to support itself.

But then someday the ship finds himself a company, a matching soul.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny then there’s me inside a sinking boat, running out of time, without you I’ll never make it out alive but I know, yes I know we’ll be alright.”

He, himself, is a sinking boat but at the last minute, he confronts light that makes him a believer of the sanguine future. But, where does this light come from? Who lights the sky?

Yes, stars. Light comes from stars and lights the sky. If the sky falls down, where will stars go?

“The sky fell down but you’ve got stars, they’re in your eyes.”

“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart.”

In real life, stars don’t hang up in the sky at least the ones which enlighten your darkness. They are buried in the souls. Like they say “The eyes are the windows of the soul.” They are the guardians of a gate before the light, to every visitor who seeks to see through, they show their deepest parts. If eyes come across a person who carries a part of their soul within themselves, the gate opens up and sets his light free.

“When you’re lost, I’ll find the way. I’ll be your light.”

The ship was lost, then someday another ship came along and things changed. Now the ship has a company, so the hope follows after. What about the guidance?

The guidance is them. Neither of them knows where to go, however, they have an idea about where to belong or who to belong. They are each other’s light. If one of them is lost, the other one will find the way and be the other’s light. So, where does light bring you?

“You’re the shining distraction that makes me fly home.”

“All my life I’ve been on my own, I use a light to guide me home.”

Home.

To sum it up: One soul (ship) was lost. He was trying to survive from obstacles of life (waves) but he was alone in his misery. Then someday another soul came along. They have been found in each other. The memories they made together kept them alive and moved them forward. When obstacles tried to sink them deeper, they held on each other. Shore couldn’t be seen from where they stood, but they were each other’s ground already. Darkness filled up the sky, but the light was awaiting in the eyes of themselves to shine through the dark. Their light brings them a home that’s found within each other.

Harry’s using the water since HS1 era but with Fine Line, he was finally able to show his story through it.

‟The Boy tried to ignore the fish but he was not alone in his melancholy. Loneliness is an ocean full of travelers trying to find their place in the world. But without friendship we are all lost & left with no hope, no home, no harbor.”

Sounds like a story I just told…

When he finally found the fish in the ocean that represents loneliness, he was no longer lonely nor lost. He found hope, a harbor, a home…

But a complication showed itself:

Two ships (souls) were traveling in the ocean (a lifetime) then stopped on one shore (1D). They weren’t welcomed here. People frowned upon them, they were executed from society ‘cause in the society grown used to how the things were, no one knew what to do with something… different.

With time they’ve spent on the shore, they changed people’s opinions. Their light became an inspiration for others who caught it. However, one day they had to leave from the shore because some people still couldn’t accept them for who they are. One of the ships (the fish) sailed before the other one’s. Why? To confront the difficulties before them reach to other ship (the boy).

When the fish was gone, the boy left as well. He was able to sail on the surface ‘cause he has the control of the ship. The memories of the fish hold him together and the memories of the past moved him forward (wind/the bottles that the boy has filled).

Now they’re both traveling; The boy’s on the surface of the sea, open. He can be seen by anyone. The fish’s underneath the waves, fighting with them. He can’t be seen by anyone but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who recognize what he’s doing, how hard he tries to survive from the waves.

Also don’t forget this:

‟Maybe you’ll be invited to a wedding between two neighbors whom it took an ocean to bring together.”

Let’s continue with some recent lyrics;

“Hold it, focus, hoping. Take me back to the light. I know you were way too bright for me. I’m hopeless, broken so you wait for me in the sky.”

“Take me back to the light.” according to how I interpreted before, I think it means “Take me back to you.” The brightness comes with the symbolism of stars and they used stars as metaphor of the person they love.

“If the truth tell, darling, you fell like there ain’t enough dying stars in your sky.”

Every star has their own glitter like every person has their own painting. Each color completes in different arts and each glitter shines over different lives. Every person has a star, themselves.

And this lyric…

Think about all the members of lgbt community. Paint them in your mind as beautiful shining stars. Colorful, glamorous, illuminative. But with each shadow’s been thrown on them, their brightness has faded away. Through the years they turned from “shining stars” to “dying stars”.

“If the truth tell” If the real difficulties lgbt people have, is told to everyone… “darling, you fell like there ain’t enough stars in your sky” like how they’ve suffered, how they’ve faded away… “It’s a tall tale…“ It becomes a tall tale to tell… “It’s only hello, hello, no goodbye.” and this tale only has a beginning but no end..

However let’s not forget:

“The darker it gets the brighter the stars become.”

That’s how I interpreted the sea/star symbolism. If we place the tattoos;

Harry’s:

Star with “won’t stop ‘till we surrender…”

Swallows

Ship

Anchor

Louis’:

Compass

Rope

There’s a ship (soul) who’s traveling, then there’s his compass so as not to get lost while braving the unpredictable ocean (life). Ship has an anchor that embodies the concept of stability, then there’s a rope to stabilize. (A person who has firm support, can overcome any tests sent to him by fate.)

There’s a star for him to carry a part of the guidance with himself. Wherever the ship goes, the star (lover/lover’s eyes) will always be his way back home. Also star’s the symbol of following your dreams, independence and finding one’s own way in life. “won’t stop ‘till we surrender…” tattoo is a dream he wants it to happen, his own way in life that’s ended with independence.

There are two swallows; one for himself, one for his lover. They are used as the symbol to represent a sailing experience (lifetime). They are the symbol of love and travel and it was believed that after the death of the sailor, the swallows would carry their soul to heaven. They’re the reminders of a lifetime experience you spent/spend/will spend with your lover. Symbols of love, situated on the chest, the closest place to a heart. For one day when their time on the earth comes to an end, the swallows will be recognized by the heart. They will always belong to one another like their souls will and when the time comes heaven will be their to share.

Louis’ tattoos are the hands on the back of Harry’s tattoos, guiding them, reassuring them, protecting them. And Harry’s are the reminders, dreams and hopes he hoped to see with Louis. They’re both carrying a story on their skin and this story has a meaning if you see the two sides.

“Remember, there are always two sides to every story. Understanding is a three edged sword. Your side, their side and the truth in the middle.”

The End.

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loisinherlane · 3 years ago

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red being released last night made me go back to check please for a bit so here’s my thesis on how red is the kent/jack album

State of Grace - their actual relationship aka juniors

This is a state of grace This is the worthwhile fight Love is a ruthless game Unless you play it good and right These are the hands of fate You're my Achilles heel This is the golden age Of something good and right and real

Red - immediately after

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go But moving on from him is impossible When I still see it all in my head In burning red

Treacherous - towards the end

I can't decide if it's a choice Getting swept away I hear the sound of my own voice Asking you to stay All we are is skin and bone Trained to get along Forever going with the flow But you're friction

I Knew You Were Trouble - reevaluating babey!!!

No apologies, he'll never see you cry Pretends he doesn't know that he's the reason why You're drowning, you're drowning, you're drowning And I heard you moved on from whispers on the street A new notch in your belt is all I'll ever be And now I see, now I see, now I see

I Almost Do - this is actually jack -> kent but still

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you 'Cause each time you reach out, there's no reply I bet it never, ever occurred to you That I can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye

Stay Stay Stay - juniors again

You took the time to memorize me My fears, my hopes, and dreams I just like hanging out with you, all the time All those times that you didn't leave, it's been occurring to me I'd like to hang out with you, for my whole life

The Last Time - Parse I-III

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong This is the last time I say it's been you all along This is the last time I let you in my door This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore

Sad Beautiful Tragic - the way neither of them quite know how it ended

In dreams, I meet you in warm conversation And we both wake in lonely beds, different cities And time is taking its sweet time erasing you And you've got your demons And darling, they all look like me

The Lucky One - literally mutual envy but this is kent’s view of how he’s kind of. stuck.

Now, it's big black cars and Riviera views And your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you And your secrets end up splashed on the news front page And they tell you that you're lucky, but you're so confused 'Cause you don't feel pretty, you just feel used And all the young things line up to take your place

Begin Again - whenever kent finally accepts it’s over and has to face how jack made him feel

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

Better Man - look!!!! i’m just saying everything we know about hear about how jack treated kent points to JACK being mean to him!!!!

I waited on every careless word Hoping they might turn sweet again Like it was in the beginning

But your jealousy, oh, I can hear it now Talking down to me like I'd always be around

Babe - idk how to describe my thoughts here but like... the end. it’s messy.

You really blew this, babe We ain't getting through this one, babe

I break down every time you call We're a wreck, you're the wrecking ball

Forever Winter - fucking!!! look at this!!!

All this time I didn't know You were breaking down I'd fall to pieces on the floor If you weren't around Too young to know it gets better I'll be summer sun for you forever Forever winter if you go

The Very First Night - how do you stop missing someoneeee?

We broke the status quo Then we broke each other's hearts But don't forget about the night out in L.A Dance in the kitchen, chase me down through the hallway No one knows about the words that we whisper No one knows how much I miss you

All Too Well (Ten Minute Version) - la pièce de résistance... all too well has literally always been my go-to kent -> jack song and now it has everything i wanted. deal with it. i stand by my interpretation that during their relationship, kent let himself take a backseat to boost jack up and that left some underlying resentment. also it’s mean and petty but i do think kent would side-eye the zimbits age gap a bit.

And I was thinking on the drive down, any time now He's gonna say it's love, you never called it what it was

And there we are again when nobody had to know You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath Sacred prayer and we'd swear To remember it all too well, yeah

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest

The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weeping in a party bathroom Some actress asking me what happened, you That's what happened, you You who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes I'll get older, but your lovers stay my age

And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you, too?

#megan's fan posts #nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn i'm feral about kent parson again i'm sorry

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writingfandomfeels · 4 years ago

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Santa Fe Part 3

Jumping Jack

Part 3 of the Santa Fe Series Summary: You begin to suspect you’re pregnant and when you tell Jack, he has a reaction that surprises you

“Y/N! You’re on in five!!!” A voice called from the hallway.

“Okay, thanks!” You managed to spit out before your stomach spasmed again, hurling your insides out and into the trash bin you were knelt over. Your knuckles were white from gripping the edges so tightly.

A moment later, Medda was in the dressing room with you.

“Oh sweetheart, not again.” She said, concern in her voice.

“I’m fine.” You stated, but your voice was shaky and you were exhausted. You could hardly keep your eyes open.

Medda shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Go home, get some rest.”

“But the show.” You replied weakly.

“Darling that’s why we have understudies.” Medda said, grabbing a tissue and handing it to you. “You know what this means though, don’t you?”

You took the tissue and wiped at your mouth, nodding slowly. Medda had seen all the signs and symptoms the last few weeks and although you knew it too, you had a hard time accepting the truth.

“Even more reason to go home and tell that boy.” She advised, helping you to your feet.

Despite having your own place now, Jack spent most of his time still at the lodge. He said he didn’t want the guys to feel like he was abandoning them. So this was the first place you went to look for him. He was laughing along with the rest of the newsies, the group of them all circled together and talking.

“Hey!” Jack’s eyes met with yours. “Whatta you doin’ ‘ere?” He smiled and reached his arms out to you as he approached.

“Jack, can we talk?” You asked quietly but the others still heard and fell silent.

You glanced around the room as the newsies stared back at you, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go t’ the roof.” He said, putting his arm around your waist and guiding you out of the room.

Despite the cool fresh air of the rooftop, you still couldn’t help but begin to nervously pace.

“You feelin’ any better?” He asked, his hands in his pockets as he watched you. He’d heard you throwing up every morning for the last while but you managed to convince him it was probably a stomach bug.

You shook your head. “Jack between this and… and the other stuff…” You thought about the fatigue, dizziness, headaches, and mood swings among other things but most importantly your lack of period.

“You- you mean…” Jack stammered, his face turning white.

You nodded, unable to bring yourself to say the words.

He spun around, gripping his hat. “How-” he started, “how the hell did this- when did this happen?!”

You shrugged. “I mean I can’t say when exactly, but Jack… all we ever do is pull out… it happens sometimes.”

“It happens sometimes?!” He echoed, now pacing too. “I-” he tried but couldn’t get any words out. “I gotta take a minute t’ think ‘bout this.” He began climbing down the ladder.

Your heart pounded as he left. What if he never came back? No, not possible. You knew he would never do that to you. He just had to process it and that was okay. You stayed up on the roof for a while, eventually laying down. The stars overhead calmed your nerves and you felt a peace wash over you as you drifted to sleep.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Jack whispered, over you.

You shifted and rubbed your eyes open. Damn, was sleeping on the roof always this uncomfortable? The sun wasn’t even up yet, so you weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep for but it felt like it’d been an eternity.

“Let’s get married!” Jack enthused.

“Wait… what?” You sat up now.

“Let’s get married!” He repeated.

You stared at him, brows furrowed as you tried to process this.

“C’mon, let’s go!” He excitedly took your hands and helped you to your feet. “Oh wait, I don’t got no ring… that’s okay, we can get one later.” He began to walk toward the ladder.

“Jack, wait.” You stopped and he turned to look at you. “Why now? Aren’t we jumping into things a little fast?”

He approached you and took your hand back in his. “Well I talked it over with the guys, and ya’ know I never want you to worry if I’m gonna’ leave you and our kid alone in the streets. I wanna’ promise you I won’t.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“‘Sides,” he added, “it’s the right thing to do, and I love ya’, do we need a better reason?”

You shook your head smiling, and followed him down the ladder. On the last rung you let yourself jump down, the excitement lifting you. Once on the street though, it occurred to you that his plan wasn’t exactly well thought out.

“Wait a second, none of the churches will be open at this hour, will they?” You asked, looking to your love.

He held your hand and continued to lead you down the dark street to the nearest church. The nuns there often fed the newsies.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it. The guys are already there wakin’ em up for this.” He said.

You blinked. “What?” But either he didn’t hear you or ignored you and you soon arrived at the church.

A fairly large group of boys were crowded around a doorway.

“Jack… did you send… all the guys?” You asked but once again he didn’t answer.

“Mr. DaSilva, I ask again, is this an emergency?” The priest asked from the door that lead to his quarters. He stood in his sleepwear, which included a long nightcap, and held a candle.

“Ain’t nothin’ more important than true love, Father!” Crutchie enthused. “They’s gonna ‘ave a baby!”

“A baby?! Shall I fetch the nuns then?” The priest looked alarmed.

“Nah, not right this second, Father!” Albert explained then lightly pushed Crutchie. “Look, now ya got him all freaked out.”

“Oh, sorry Father.” Crutchie apologized, taking off his hat.

“They ain’t gon’ have the baby for another… how many months does it take?” Albert asked, looking to Race.

“Nine?” Race suggested though he wasn’t completely confident in his answer.

“Nine months!” Albert replied to the tired man.

“Then why are you here?” The priest asked, getting annoyed.

“Father, sir,” Jack said, now approaching while still holding your hand. The other boys parted to make way for him. “Would ya’ please do me the honor of marryin’ me and my girl, Y/N tonight? Ya’ see, I just found out we’s expectin’ a baby and I know it’s the right thing to do an’ all and even if it wasn’t I’d still be ‘ere,” he turned to face you, “askin’ her eventually.” Jack smiled. “Just so happens fate be makin’ it a little sooner. But I love her, I do.”

You smiled back at him and his thumb rubbed your hand for a moment.

The priest sighed, realizing the crowd of boys wouldn’t let him rest until they were satisfied. “Very well. Let me get my robes and bible.”

The newsies cheered and Jack embraced you in a hug.

***

You let out a frustrated sigh as you flopped down onto the bed in the room that you and your, now husband, rented. It wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods and you knew you couldn’t keep up living there much longer.

“You alright?” Jack asked from the chair in the corner. Other than the bed the only other pieces of furniture the room held was that chair and a table, which were all there before your move in.

You sat up on the bed now. “I just spoke with Medda.” You started. “She says I can’t sing there anymore.”

“What?! Why?!” Jack exclaimed.

You looked from him down to your growing stomach and back. “Why the hell do you think?”

“She fired you ‘cause you pregnant? That ain’t right” Jack shook his head. “I’ll go talk t’ her.”

“What? No! I can fight my own battles, thank you. Besides, she didn’t fire me. She said I can return just as soon as the baby is born.” You sighed. “It’s just her girls… they have a certain look. They gotta be sexy…”

“Darlin’ you’s always sexy, don’t be ridiculous.” He said, joining you on the bed and kissing your forehead.

“Thanks babe, but I get it. We’ve been finding ways to hide my stomach as best we can but it’s just not working anymore. And when was the last time you saw a pregnant lady in show business? Exactly.” You said.

Jack was quiet for a moment. “Okay, well, that’s okay. You can still go back to it after the baby like she said. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get some extra money with-”

“Rents due next week.” You reminded.

“Damn.” He breathed. But he didn’t want to stress you, he knew how bad stress could be on a pregnancy so he decided to try and stay positive for your sake. “That’s okay, we’ll work something out. Maybe Davey or his family can loan us a bit. Just for now.”

You groaned at the idea of owing people money, even if it was a friend. Leaving the bed, you moved to the chair and picked up the mail that was sitting on the table. There was a letter from your parents. As much as you hated to go backwards instead of forwards in life you didn’t see any other option at the moment.

“We’ve gotta move back in with my parents.” You stated.

“You mean… Santa Fe?” Jack asked, the usual sparkle in his eye whenever he said the name.

#jack kelly x reader #my writing

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cetaitlaverite · 4 years ago

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@mercurygray set a writing challenge for valentine’s weekend and it sounded so lovely i thought i’d give it a go! in a nutshell, the idea was to use a random generator (and i used her wonderful one) to create a new oc and introduce them through a short oneshot-type piece of writing. when i first set to figuring my gal out i was excited by the prospect of pairing her with one george luz. i think they’re a fun pair so i hope you do too!

my brief:

The Last Time I Saw Paris

There were a lot of things Max loved about her job as a chorus girl in the USO: she got to see the world in person, as opposed to merely in books; she got to meet and work with some of Hollywood’s biggest stars; she got to dance, everyday in rehearsal and almost every night in a show; and, though she didn’t like to admit it, there was nothing quite like the smiles the soldiers wore as they watched each of the shows - as though they were looking straight into the gates of heaven. The faces that watched her dance with such admiration each night damn near broke her heart, for their eyes betrayed how much the show meant to them after all they’d seen. They were the best audience she’d ever had. Performing for people who cared, to whom the music and the dancing and the sparkle meant something - well, that may have been what she loved most of all.

However, for all that she loved her job dearly, and especially because of the men she performed for, there was little she dreaded more than having to meet them afterwards.

When the show ended and Max followed all of the other girls back to their shared dressing room, she was always buzzing with adrenaline. As the moments twirled away from her, however, her smiles began to fade; once they got out into the hall, the men would be after all of them. They’d crowd their headliner first, always, and when the star had taken her pick, they’d flock to the chorus girls. The attention was stifling. No matter how Max tried to tone down her red lip or soften her carefully styled hair, the soldiers always seemed to know exactly which girls they were after. It was as though they spent the show searching, looking from face to face to decide which girl they wanted for a dance partner the moment they graced the main hall with their presence.

The thought made her uneasy. Max didn’t like to be looked at, she liked to be watched. She liked to think the men all sat there and saw her dancing for what it was: art. But they were men, and in her line of work she knew especially well what men saw when they looked at her, even if she was only a chorus girl and not the big star of the show.

“Maxie, are you comin’ or what? The way you set to mopin’ after every show anyone would think you’re homesick.”

Max tore her eyes from her reflection in the mirror to Lila in the doorway, a tiny firecracker of a girl who liked to act tough but, really, was always the one to make sure no one was left behind.

Max offered a weak smile. “Perhaps I am homesick.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you aren’t,” she retorted. “Paris is the City of Lovers, darlin’. This is your city and these are your people. Impossible to be homesick when you’re already home.”

Max couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her. “You think I’m a lover,” she said disbelievingly, a grin twitching at her lips. “Do you ever catch me writing to anyone other than my family?”

“You don’t have to have a lover to be one, Maxie. I see that smile of yours when you dance, even when you ain’t performin’ for no one. You love dancin’, you love music, you love life - and, if you ever get your ass outta this here dressin’ room, I’m sure you’ll love Paris. Now, come on. Who ever heard of a dancer that don’t dance?”

With her elbow soon clamped in Lila’s tight grip, Max had little choice but to follow her out of the dressing room and into the main hall. The pair of them came stumbling into the outskirts of the other dancers - who, by the looks of things, were already receiving a considerably warm welcome from the hall’s occupants - and made it just in time to watch one Grace Henry, headline act of their particular show, pick her first dance partner of the evening from the sea of dashing hopefuls.

“My bets are on that one,” Lila whispered into Max’s ear. She gave her arm a tug before gesturing to a tall blond with a dazzling smile and First Sergeant insignia on his uniform.

Max quirked a smile as she watched him. “By the looks of him, so are his.”

Lila laughed. “He’s too much a peacock for the likes of you and me but I’m sure him and Grace will get along swimmingly.”

Max nudged her friend and shot her a look which held for about a second before fading into a grin again. In reality, there was no bad blood between the chorus girls and their headliner at all - though it was true Grace did think the world of herself, and this quality was generally reflected in the men she chose for suitors. Still, as much as she loved to primp and preen in the mirror, Grace loved her chorus girls and her chorus girls loved her. There was a sort of camaraderie in the life of a dancer, especially on the road as they were, and where they were each separated by background they were sardines in a can by experience.

By the looks of the soldiers gathered and how they grinned and bantered with each other, there was a lot of that going around.

As soon as Grace had picked her trooper - Lila had been right, it was the blond First Sergeant with the movie star smile and practised charm - the crowd began to close in. Max looked to Lila for reassurance and found her friend’s eyes settled in amongst the swarm of men.

“That one,” she said decisively. She bit onto her bottom lip and nodded. “That one’s mine.”

“Which one?” asked Max, attempting to follow Lila’s eyeline. “Dark hair, cheeky grin, on the shorter side?”

Lila shot a glance at her. “What? No.” She flicked her hand as if to brush the thought away. “Ginger hair, awkward-looking but in a cute way, average height, maybe just over. Over there, see?”

Max did see, but her attention was elsewhere. “I think perhaps the dark-haired fella might be worth considering, though,” she said, attempting to be subtle about it.

“Why’s that?” Lila kept her eyes locked on her target, likely already plotting her plan of attack.

“Because he’s making a beeline for you.”

“What?”

Max gestured and Lila turned. Sure enough, heading right for them was a dark-haired, grinning young man on the shorter side of the spectrum, though taller than the both of them.

Lila’s eyes, once sultry and determined, filled with panic. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you can’t refuse a dance unless he gives you cause to,” Max said matter-of-factly. “That’s against the rules.”

Lila nodded, her eyes darting between the approaching man and her preferred choice of partner. In a single, elegant move, she nodded, straightened up, and turned to Max entirely. “Ask him to dance.”

“What?”

“Maxie, please. Just ask him to dance so I don’t have to. I’ll owe you.”

“What’ll you owe me?” Max quizzed, cocking an eyebrow to mask her alarm. Accepting dances was part of the job, albeit a part she did reluctantly; offering them, on the other hand, was unchartered territory. Worse, it was practically unheard of for USO performers to have to ask soldiers for dances. Even worse, it would be downright mortifying to be rejected in favour of her friend. That would be a memory to haunt her for decades.

“Anything you want. We’ll discuss later.” Lila took both of Max’s hands and did her best impression of puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeeeeease?” she begged.

Max glanced back at the approaching man, now closer than ever, before looking back to her friend. She tilted her chin up to assume an air of confidence and looked Lila dead in the eyes. “I would only do this for you.”

“Maxie, you are an angel and I am so lucky to have you.”

“Damn right you are.”

Lila gave her hands a squeeze and was off in a moment, weaving through the other chorus girls on her way to take her man off the market. Max turned to face her own fate and plastered on her most winning smile.

“Hi!” she greeted the dark-haired man, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, if she was being honest. “Would you like to dance? With me?”

So embarrassing. So embarrassing. She was sure she’d never forget how mortified she felt in this moment.

The man faltered a moment and stumbled over his step. He began speaking so fast she couldn’t detangle what he was saying.

Max’s stomach rolled with humiliation.

“I know you were wanting my friend,” she rushed to add, a last-ditch attempt to save face. “But she met this soldier the other week and they’ve fallen desperately in love. He’s about to go back to the front and this is their last night together.” She sighed, her practised smile fading and her eyebrows surrendering from their perch halfway up her forehead. With a sincerity she never used with the soldiers she entertained, she pleaded, “I know I’m not much, but I’m trying to help my friend.”

The man’s smile softened, now less a grin than it was a twinkle. “I’d be honoured to dance with you.” He offered an arm gallantly and, when she took it, led the way to the space cleared for a dance floor.

Once they had secured a place for themselves amongst the hubbub of couples crowding the space, Max placed a hand in his and rested her other on his shoulder. When he placed his other hand on her waist, her eyes swept across the dance floor, seeking out Lila and landing on her already snuggled tightly up against her red-headed soldier. She must have felt eyes on her for she glanced over and caught Max’s gaze instantly, shooting her a quick wink before tucking her head back into the man’s shoulder. Max rolled her eyes jovially before her own partner’s voice drew her attention again.

“So, uh, what’s your name?”

“Maxine Robertson,” she replied, plastering on the polite smile she’d been taught to always tack onto the end of her name. This man, though, whoever he was, seemed to see right through her. She exhaled a laugh. “Max,” she conceded. “My friends call me Max.”

“Glad to meet you, Max. I’m George.”

Max laughed lightly to herself, though nothing about the statement nor the situation was particularly amusing. It was simply that he looked like a George.

“And your last name, Mr. George?” she wondered, just as the band began to play the opening chords of their next song.

“Luz,” he replied immediately. “Technical Sergeant George Luz of the 101st Airborne at your service.”

Max couldn’t help her giggle; he seemed a showman through and through, perhaps more a performer than she was herself. “Pleased to have met you, Technical Sergeant George Luz of the 101st Airborne.”

George grinned. “So, how’d you get into dancing?”

“Why? Are you looking to join the USO, too?” The comment slipped out before she’d had time to process it. She wanted to reach out and grab at the air in front of her in an attempt to shove the words back into her mouth and choke herself with them.

George, however, only laughed, not bothered in the slightest. In fact, her comment seemed only to serve to thoroughly entertain him. He was not, of course, without a retort. “Well, that depends on how much I’d be getting paid.”

“A showman such as yourself, I think you’d earn billions.” She shook her head, her smile lighting up her entire face. George thought he’d do just about anything to get a smile like that out of her again. “You’d have to learn to dance though, of course.”

“Now, what are you trying to say?” he replied without missing a beat, and spun her spontaneously as if to prove his point. When she came back to him, he grinned down at her. “You think they’ll let me in?”

Max shook her head at him, thoroughly unable to help her smile. She pretended to consider his question carefully before asking slyly, “How high can you kick?”

“Aw, damn.” George huffed, giving an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders as if to say ‘what can you do?’ “Now that ain’t fair. They don’t teach you that stuff in boot camp.”

“No?” Max teased, her eyes tracking his every movement. He had an incredibly expressive face and she didn’t want to miss a single expression that waltzed onto it.

“Not my kinda boot camp,” he amended, shooting her a wink. “Ain’t sure I’d be able to pull off those fancy dresses you guys wear, anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you’d be a vision in red sequins.”

George widened his eyes comically. “Now, Miss Maxine Robertson of the USO, are you flirtin’ with me? And here I was thinking you were only here because of your friend.”

“Technical Sergeant George Luz of the 101st Airborne, you think much too highly of yourself,” she fired back. “I was simply hoping to rope in a new recruit so I don’t get stuck dancing on the sidelines anymore.”

George shook his head amusedly but his smile softened to a twinkle once more. With unprecedented sincerity, he said, “Sidelines or otherwise, my eyes were on you the whole time.”

Max looked away. She didn’t know what to do with herself in the wake of such earnestness from a man she’d only known the length of a song.

As the band played their final few notes she ducked her head, willing the flames in her cheeks to die down. Once the song had ended and soldiers flocked to the floor, she risked a glance up at George. His eyes were already on her, having been waiting for her to find her feet again.

“It’s been a pleasure,” she told him, her voice emerging much quieter than intended. “Truly, it has.” She offered him a smile that came easier than any she’d had to flash at a soldier before. “Thank you for accepting my offer.”

George grinned and dipped a grande reverence. After he was upright again, he tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet - gone was the self-assured comedian, a bashful schoolboy taking his place. He cleared his throat and only when men started appearing in the hopes of finding their next partner in Max did he muster courage enough to ask, “What made you think I was gonna ask your friend?”

#band of brothers #george luz #mine #my writing #luz

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queer-crusader · 4 years ago

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How do you think Silver & Flint's relationship would have evolved if things hadn't ended the way they did in S4? How do you think things would have progressed through time? I tend to think about the what ifs a lot. I'm just curious what your thoughts are on it.

OOFT. I mean i have many thoughts! It’s... very hard to say really. Because i think one thing Black Sails does incredibly well is the way it builds a story and a character. Many choices made in this show are so dependent on what the characters want and who they intrinsically are and how they influence each other (willingly/knowingly or not), and i feel like there are many very complex interwoven roads that led them to the conclusion they got to. Which is one of the many reasons the finale felt like such a tragedy; you know things are going to end badly because you kind of see it coming. And dear god it does hurt, even with Flint being reunited with Thomas.

So. I think there are two ways to answer this question, and you can sort of divide them into canon-ish versus fanon wish. These may not exactly be clearly indicated bc like i said i have Many Thoughts, and i apologise in advance 😅 Another thing i’ll be looking at here is something we had to lay out for our characters when i studied acting - the goals/objectives/motivations of the character, and their emotional/mental state. None of this is meant to be critical against any character. I simply adore analyising them and the paths of the story, and I love each and every character i talk about here deeply.

So, looking at that finale. There’s several things that i could take from what you say about things not ending the way they did - for now, i’m looking at the confrontation between Flint and Silver in the woods, where Silver forces Flint to quit his war and reunites him with Thomas.

Firstly, let’s analyse what we get from the canon, and what i believe motivates these characters to bring them to the point they end up at. There’s that famous line i think of Silver where he says he doesn’t know anymore where he ends and Flint begins - their thinking patterns have become so intertwined, they basically share a braincell. The tricky thing about this is, just because he and Flint think similarly, share tactics, and a knowledge of how to use people in their means, just because they understand each other well, doesn’t mean they share opinions and morals. Flint especially seems to forget this. He believes Silver is with him in his cause to end Imperial rule. But from Silver’s final actions, it’s clear Silver values his personal wants and needs above that of this abstract crowd of people. He’s not oppressed - or hasn’t felt the effects of Imperial/religious oppression (as far as we canonically know) like Flint and Madi have. And that means he doesn’t have the same drive. He’s driven by his personal connections to these people, i believe, purely from his own point of view. Like, i suspect he struggles to place himself in the shoes of Madi or Flint to feel their pain and motivation. He can see it, he just... doesn’t fully grasp it. (There’s also a question of whether he wishes to, but i feel nowhere NEAR qualified on answering that, nor do i think the canon gives us enough material to give a perfectly cut & dry answer.)

So you have this big miscommunication. Flint believes that, because he and Silver have basically become one shared braincell, they have the same goals, while Silver is still driven from a point of selfishness. (Side-note: there was a moment in the show he became selfless! He wouldn’t give up his crew when faced with torture from Vane’s quartermaster! But then he lost a leg over it and it seemed to dampen that selflessness. I think from there on, moments where he seems to be motivated by the good of the crew come instead from an internal need to belong and be loved more so than a genuine sense of brotherhood. That brotherhood may still have been there, but i think he might have suppressed that instinct a little and instead let the more selfish needs take more of a front seat. Understandable and not bad/evil, like that’s super valid of him. But my point is, he’s not exactly ready to fight for another man’s cause he doesn’t have as much of a personal emotional profit in, especially when he knows it’ll end in certain death for everyone he cares about and he knows cares about him.)

So that’s sort of where the characters are mentally in that climax. I may be skirting details and summarising a bit hastily, but it’s also been a GOOD while since i’ve watched season 4, so i apologise. Flint (and Madi as well - she plays an equally important role i think!) is fuelled by a mix of rage born from oppression/discrimination, and a protectiveness for others who may suffer the same fate. Silver meanwhile is fuelled by a need much closer to home - to be loved and to keep those he cares for and deems important to him alive and around. I’ve framed it as their emotional drive, but really it is also their goal, their objective in that finale. Flint and Madi are looking to burn down an oppressive system while Silver... isn’t. For him, their goals stand directly in the way of his. And by the end of the show, he’s gained enough power to prevail in his objective, cancelling out those of Flint and Madi.

So, could it have gone differently? I think, if we wanna play with canon and keep it as close to canon as possible... It seems almost impossible. These people’s goals just do not align. (There’s that sweet sweet tragedy again.) So what you need for it to go differently in short is for one of, if not several, of these people to change their goal. But we’re talking their MAIN objective, their main driving force at this point in the show - so like, the chances of that are slim. ESPECIALLY if we’re talking about the canon characters. After all, for that, the characters would need to look inside themselves and fucking face up to some of their issues and work on them. (This is something which these characters are not very prone to do, bc jesus it’s a mess in there and if that were me i’d preferably not turn introspective either and be forced to look at all that.)

So if we wanted Flint to change his goal, he’d need to come to terms with the Empire being untouchable - which is bullshit bc like my man has a POINT, just because they seem to be able to be brought down doesn’t mean they ain’t - and to accept the homophobia and oppression they treated him and Thomas with, which, yeah fuck that, absolutely not, his rage and his goals are valid as FUCK. If we wanted to change Madi’s - lmao like listen i understand wanting her and Silver happy together bc we ship EVERYTHING in this house, but she’s poc and proper royalty and wants to end slavery. We ain’t touching her goals. So that just leaves Silver. Silver would need to face a part of himself that keeps him from placing Flint’s goals, or Madi’s goals, over his own. (I suspect we circle back to that insecurity and need to be loved, which defo stems from whatever trauma he swears doesn’t affect who he is today.) So for that he’d uhh... need therapy. And a shit tonne of it. But then you still have the issue that Flint and Madi will likely fight their war (bc they DESERVE IT), which may lead to what Silver considers inevitable - that they will die early and horribly, and he ends up all alone.

So, looking at playing with the canon-ish to change things? It’s gonna end in tragedy. There’s doesn’t seem any other way about it, i fear; not with the way these characters were written, with who they are and what drives them and what they want. If it doesn’t end in tragedy in one way, then almost certainly in another.

So what are our other options? What if we look at the fanon wish - whether it’s silverflint, or silvermadi, or madisilverflint, or just to have these kids be fucking happy? Well, you know what? Maybe it DOESNT have to end up in tragedy. Maybe, if Silver does align himself with the goals of the people he loves - after learning to communicate and place himself in other people’s shoes and prioritise the needs of his loved ones and compromising and all that jazz (god this boy needs therapy that only the fanon can likely give him, rip) - he could join them in their war. And maybe, his genius and creativity and quick wit will in fact propel their cause forward and help so much, none of them dies an early gruesome death. It’s not impossible! It just requires that sweet sweet character growth he doesn’t get the opportunity for in canon.

Another option, and this one is perhaps a little more plausible if the show had no episode limit or a desire to end in tragedy and “align” itself with “history” (they’ve played fast and loose with real history i’ve learned, and like,, it’s a story about fictional characters so why did it have to align itself with history?? Okay fine, as a prequel to Treasure Island, it still needed to end in tragedy for Silver bc we know where he ends up. Were there no Treasure Island and no rules and we could do what we wanted with the show and write a new ending, then what?). This one is more popular, you see it in loads of fics and i like it a lot. Silver sends Flint to the plantation. Flint and Thomas break out and get their war anyway. They’re pissed at Silver for a bit for being a selfish dick shitting on Flint’s dreams, but like,, it’s not as if it stopped Flint. (We can even look at it like Silver knew they’d probably fight their war and have better odds with Thomas in the mix, giving them a better opportunity - but like, that’s just a fun headcanon to play with that i don’t think aligns with what he explicitly states to want in canon.) And then, after some years, everyone learns to communicate and talk things out and maybe, maybe, Silver grows a bit and things become healthier between him and Flint.

Listen, the moral of the story is this. I love all the ships in this show. I think they’re all neat, and i love the different iterations in which people bring them to life and try to align them with canon. Do i think that with the canon we’ve been given, silverflint could happen? Maybe. Would it be healthy?? I mean... Probably not 😅 but like, that doesn’t prevent me from shipping it. (That’s not the point of shipping - sometimes you just wanna see that sweet sweet chemistry pay off, even tho u know it ain’t healthy. The characters are fictional. It’s okay. No-one will get hurt - apart from maybe you if you end up romanticising it and taking that into real life but ooft that’s a whole other kettle of fish.) But god, that’s the fucking JOY of fanfics ya know?? It may also be why i enjoy writing my modern au so much xD therapy is an option, and canon means even less than usual. All im saying is, when it comes to the relation between silver and flint, the fan community are a fucking godsend. You want them to be friends?? We got fics for that! Want them to bone? SO many fics for that! Want a sort of father-son role?? Uhh nowhere near enough fics for that, but the fandom’s still active so you never know! Partners in crime?? Hell YEAH that has potential, even in canon i think if u just stretch out fan-written episodes far enough!! (God can you imagine the POTENTIAL?? Ignore the war, the grittiness, the drama. Get me some pirate hijinks where the stakes are low but they’re still sharing a braincell.)

(Hmm. Now i need to add another idea to my WIP list lmao xD)

Anywayyy, hope this satisfies ur curiosity anon!!

#sorry it took me 2 days to answer #i just have Many Thots™ and i wanted to give this the care it deserves #i swear when i saw this question i was like 'you ask MOI???'#thank u so much tho this was so much fun to delve into #analysing character objectives and obstacles was one of my favourite things i learned studying acting #black sails #black sails meta #anne speaks #questions answered #anon #also id like to point out once more that jusr bc im critical of these characters doesnt mean i judge or hate on them #i ADORE a flawed character like thats literally the sexiest thing #okay okay im off to bed #writing ideas

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downinthedevildom · 5 years ago

Text

Okay so I’m a big hecking dumb! I accidentally answered privately but didn’t put anything it. THANKFULLY! I screenshot everything so not all is lost! 😤😤 so here @delori-a this is for you! X3

First of all! I am no queen, friend! I am but a humble potato 🥔 I’m glad you enjoyed your match up though! 💜💜

I’m sorry this took me a while to finish, I have no excuse... I’m just a procrastinating fiend! X3 HOPE YOU ENJOY SWEETPEA!

Rating : FLUFF!!? Comfort?!

Warnings : none

Word count : 3k+

💚~*~*~*~*~*~*💜💚*~*~*~*~*~*~💜

What time was it? It was always hard to tell here.

Looking up from your desk that is currently cluttered with the battlefield of textbooks and papers you were working through, you cast your dry eyes to the window, the gorgeous starry skies doing little to answer the question in your mind. It's always night here. There was no setting sun in the Devildom to lay hints on how long you had been slaving away since returning from R.A.D for the day.

A heavy sigh passed your lips as you turned your head back to the paper you had half-written, full of dark scratches with your frustration laden mistakes. You pluck your D.D.D up from its hiding space, at some point being disregarded and covered with an open book, to look at the clock. However, it didn't illuminate like it usually would once being lifted meaning the battery had died and you hadn't even noticed the music you had quietly playing from the device stopped somewhere along the way.

It didn't really matter what time it was anyway, you had already resigned yourself to your impending all-night cramming session. Two papers were due and the impending midterm test that counted as half your grade on Monday had sealed your fate to have a very sleepless weekend.

Another sigh left you as your rub your palms over tired eyes in a will to make them stop fighting you with this pesky irritating dryness. You needed coffee; always the silent saviour. You pushed yourself out of the chair, your joints popping loudly in the quiet room with the movement. Using your hip to push your chair in you tossed your D.D.D onto your bed, making your way out of your room and quickly to the kitchen. Never before had you been so thankful that your room was only a few steps away from the elixir of life. At least this way you were sure not to wake the other residents in the house of Lamentation through the weekend. You already knew this would be a trip you would be making a lot over the next few days.

A single push of a button had the coffee machine humming to life, echoing through the room in the unusually quiet house - another thing you were thankful for in this moment. The lively atmosphere would normally fill you with warmth, the seven rulers of hell lives were something to witness in the comfort of their dwelling. Sure they fought often, but these walls were filled with so much family love and a millennia of memories you had only begun to scratch the surface of. Tonight you were thankful for the quiet, no disturbances as you fought against the dread of failure with tooth and nail. You really didn't need the bothers yelling to give your brain more reasons than it already had to pulse painfully in your skull.

It was a Friday night and as far as you knew only you and Leviathan were home right now. That being said, it was more like you had the house to yourself due to the otaku being less likely to come out of his room while he was gaming for the night than it was that you would spontaneously combust from the pressure you were putting on yourself. Everyone else had their weekend plans already in full swing.

Of course, none of the brothers would be home studying like you, struggling to understand the topics of demon-ology. They already knew all this stuff... They lived this stuff! Sighing was quickly becoming your only form of vocalization of the night as another passed though your lips to accompany the dull thunk of your spoon hitting ceramic as you stirred your coffee. The thought of another all-nighter weighed heavy on your chest and that has another sigh following.

“Oi, what's got you all huffy, huh?!” the unexpected voice startled you from your mind, causing you to jolt and fix the white-haired demon with a wide-eyed gaze.

“Mammon, you gave me a damn heart attack!” you managed to squeak out the words as a hand clasped over your chest willing your heart to get back down and out of your throat. The all too familiar grin on his handsome features while he leant against the door frame, did little to convince you he was anything akin to remorseful for causing your soul to temporarily up and leave your body.

“I thought you had a shoot tonight, you skip it?” you questioned him before he had the chance to start teasing you as he normally would. It was always in jest, but you didn't have the energy to throw your own back at him right now.

“Skip?! Its good money doing them shoots ya know! As if I would skip it!” The fake offence in his voice was dripping in the pride he had by earning his own money, honestly. “I finished over an hour ago.” he filled you in while shrugging himself off the door as you approach, continuing to do so as he followed you down the hall. “Just got back, you weren't in ya room so figured I’d hunt ya down.” The playful lilt in his tone made his intentions clear to you, he was still hyped up and if you let him he would talk your ear off until morning.

Normally you would accept it willingly, even asking him questions about his shoots to continue seeing the proud smile on his face and his laugh ringing through the air of your bedroom. You just didn't have the time right now, so instead, you shoved away the voice in your head telling you that procrastination with your favourite demon would be the best way to spend the night.

“And why, pray tell, did you feel the need to find me?” you almost flinched at the harshness of your own voice, quickly placing your coffee down on your table you added in a gentler tone. “Is there something you need? Something wrong?” your hand had already fallen to the back of your chair, ready to pull it out and take your temporary throne, while turning to face him.

You hoped he would read the room and realise you were too busy and leave you be. Dreading the thought of his reaction should you have to ask him to leave. You really did love his company and his self-esteem already got knocked enough by his brothers. Right now, with the prospects of flunking three separate classes hanging in the not too distant future, your nerves were dancing on the edge of a blade. One wrong step and you would be more of a disappointment to the exchange program than you already felt you were.

A flicker of what you read as recognition flashed over Mammons face as his gaze turned from the messy table and his impossibly blue eyes landed on your own. “Yeah, there's somethin’ wrong. You are doin’ homework when we planned a movie night, remember?” he flashed you with another blinding grin and all you could do is blink in bewilderment. No, you didn't remember that. In fact, you are pretty sure he just made that up on the spot so he had more of an excuse to claim your time.

“I’m sorry, Mammon.” you started, the dejectedness in you tone was thick in your tone. You chose not to mention his blatant lie, instead just telling him the truth in return. “I don't have time to watch a movie with you tonight, I really have to get this work done.” You give him a soft smile, hoping he doesn't get upset with you as you attempt to pull out your chair only to find Mammon’s own hand near yours holding it in place.

The questioning look you threw him was only answered by a grin that never faulted from his face. “Hey, you should be happy the GREAT MAMMON is so willing to spend time with ya! You really gonna throw that away for a night of homework, human? You can be a nerd again tomorrow.” his deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, normally it would force out your own but right now all it did was light a fire of irritation under your skin. You rub your free hand on your face, forcing another sigh back down before it could escape.

“Mammon, Please. I really have-”

“Aw, Come on! You got all weekend to be doin all this-” he cut you off and you watched in silent horror as he plucked up one of the textbooks, dislodging papers you had carefully paced as markers for the material you needed to study, your gaze following them as they fluttered to the ground near your feet.

“-This ain't even that hard! Why ar-”

“Yes it is!” the words snapped out of you, cutting him off this time. Your eyes locking onto his stunned ones. The grip on the chair grew tighter with your irritation, causing your knuckles to turn as white as the demon's hair. Not even his surprise at your uncharacteristic outburst could hold back the stinging string of words that rushed forth now the barrier you had built around your stress broke.

“You said it yourself right? Many times in fact! I'm just a stupid human!” you took a breath, releasing your grasp on your chair as your arms started to shake with your misplaced anger. Taking to folding them defiantly instead as you stared down the demon in front of you. The rational side of your mind knew those comments were made in nothing but light-hearted jest. But that rational side wasn't present right now. Abandoning you in a moment of frustration leaving those words to sink deep into your chest as your own self worth sunk lower than your struggling grades.

“And yet I am meant to understand and memorise the in’s and out’s of multiple different demons anatomy types and over fifty thousand years of devildom history, When up until six months ago I was minding my own damn business before being dropped into a world I always believed to be derived from fiction!” your breath shook as the telling pinpricks behind your eyes burned a warning of the impending flood coming forth.

“You know all this stuff! This is your world, your home!...” your chest tightened threatening to close your throat as the days of frustratingly trying to absorb so much in such little time yet still coming up short each time despite how hard you try, floored you “I'm just living in it...“So yes mammon.” your voice cracked and the well in your eyes burst free, sending salty trails cascading down your cheeks. “It is that hard.”

His eyes never left yours for a second during your usual outburst of emotions, though through your rapidly blurring vision it was impossible to read the expression he held, leaving you to assume it was one of realisation leading to his own anger. You turn your head away, slamming your eyes closed in a futile silent plea for your tears to stop, simultaneously waiting for Mammon’s own anger to lash at you. It was deserved after all.

So you waited, for the rush of energy that sends static through the air when one of the brothers’ emotions get irate, the raised booming voice of anger to return back to you. The moments passed in suffocating silence, only the sound of your shaky breaths reverberated in the room, with each passing second without the whiplash you were waiting for not coming, the ache in your chest grew with your guilt.

Lowering your arms in defeat, you knew you had to apologise, you needed to and yet if Mammon hadn't said anything yet it would probably be the catalyst to your demise. you held your breath, willing yourself to once again open your eyes and look at him. But when you did, what you witnessed wasn't a face twisted with anger or even annoyance. His brows were drawn low, casting dark shadows over his eyes that were filled with nothing but shocked sympathy. You open your mouth to utter… anything to break the silence between you both of you.

Before you could force out a single word your world grew dark in the blink of an eye. Strong arms engulfed you, pulling you close to him as slender fingers of one hand threading through your hair holding your head against his broad chest that radiates comforting warmth.

“I'm sorry..” the words you tried to speak were whispered gently, though it wasn't your voice that spoke them. The arm around you back, caging to him grew tighter as a choked sob forced its way from your chests. That was all it took for whatever hold you had left on your emotions to snap and your own arms circled around his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he was your lifeline.

“I’m sorry for not realizing you were struggling m/c… why didn't you tell me?” his voice, far gentler than you felt you deserved was laced with his own hurt. The warm breath tickling the shell of your ear did little to quell the river spilling from your eyes, soaking his shirt as you attempt to muffle your sobs into his chest.

You had no idea how long you both stood there, you clinging to the Avatar of Greed while he muttered gentle words to help calm your fried emotions. Eventually, you fell quiet, a tiredness flooding through you with his warmth making you realise just how much your body ached for this release of everything you had been keeping locked in a metaphorical cage.

You let your hands slacken on his shirt and as you did Mammons grip loosened too, allowing you enough room to take a step back and look up at him. His own eyes were scanning your features and the gentle smile he was giving you was enough to melt away any of your worries. It made your heart flutter, he really did care about you. In this moment nothing was truer.

“Ya feelin’ better now M/c?” his tone was just as gentle and you could only nod in response, as soon as you did the grin he gave you as his features relaxed in relief had the tips of your ears burning. Thankful to your breakdown your face was no doubt already flushed so would go unnoticed.

“I'm… I'm sorry for shouting at you Mammon. You didn't deserve that.” You dropped your gaze to his chest, a small scoff of a laugh bubbling forth. “I got your shirt all wet…” His bright laugh made you jump slightly, so sudden after the quiet moment. You felt his hands shift from you only to land on your shoulders, causing you to look up again.

“Don’t worry about it!” he spoke as he began taking steps towards you, the hold he had on you gently coaxing you to step backwards with him until your legs bumped the edge of your bed. “It’s my job ain't it? I gotta look after ya, or Lucifer would have my head!” He finished with a light downwards push on your shoulders, gently forcing you to sit on the plush mattress behind you. You gave him a questioning look that he answered with a grin and a shrug while letting go of your shoulders “Just the way it is.” That smile proved to be just as contagious as you always thought it was, now paired with the rising rosy hue on his own tanned cheeks drew out your own smile in return.

You let out a quiet laugh of your own, “of course, how could I forget?” throwing him a bigger smile he took a proud stance with his hands on his hips, but before he could respond the dread flooded your mind again and you let out a groan. “It doesn't change the fact that I'm going to fail… then Lucifer will have MY head.”

It didn't help that you already saw yourself as the weak link to the exchange program, the angels were excellent at everything. The only other human, Solomon, was more than accustomed to the ways of the demon world so he was doing just as well as everyone expected him to do. With his magical prowess and unfathomable knowledge, it was no wonder why everyone expected greatness… then there's you, struggling to even keep your head above the water that is a passing grade in most of your classes.

Shifting yourself to stand once more, you had to work. Mammon halts your movements by placing his hands back on your shoulders. “Oi! Stop being so stubborn.” you open your mouth to retort but he just lifts a finger in front of your face silencing you. “We are watchin’ a movie and you are gonna deal with it!” he huffs with finality leaving you to groan.

As if reading your mind Mammon sat himself down next to you, his voice taking the gentler tone again. “I… I'll help ya study tomorrow, a-alright?” not meeting your eyes you saw the hue rising on his face once more as he shuffles himself back on the bed to lean his back on the wall while plucking up the remote that laid on your pillow to turn on the T.V. “I’ll even get Satan to help if it will stop you stressin’ so much.”

The sound of the TSL theme song filled the room as you stared at the blushing demon sat on your bed. It was obvious he cared about you even if he didn't want to admit it out loud. That thought alone had a soft warmth spreading through your body. Letting out your final sigh of the night you admitted defeat, scooting yourself back to claim the space next to him.

“Thank you, Mammon. You're the best,” you spoke quietly while leaning your head down onto his shoulder. You felt him physically stiffen next to you. Just because he had hugged you didn't mean you could get all cosy with him now. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable you moved to sit back up properly, however, the arm you were just resting on flew out to circle around your back and gripping your upper arm pulling you back towards him, forcing a sharp breath of surprise out of you as your face landed on his chest.

You were about to question him, tell him he didn't need to hold you anymore but he spoke first. “Damn right I'm the best! Don't you go forgetting it again, human!” despite his bold declaration you could hear the underlying shyness in his voice. You bite your lip to stop your giggle; you simply grin snuggling further into his side. It didn't take long for your eyes to grow heavy.

The sound of Mammon's rhythmic heartbeat was drawing you in like the most perfect lullaby, melting away the stress that had been building for weeks. In this moment, everything was perfectly calm, you felt safe and knew you weren't alone in this hectic adventure in the land of demons. Unable and unwilling to fight the sleep washing over you, your eyes fluttered closed as you lay in the arms of the demon you were undeniably in love with.

As the tendrils of slumber overtook your senses you heard his soothing voice reaching you before your world fell into a restful dreamless sleep.

“You are perfect...Good night, my human.”

#written by Angel💜#obey me!#obey me! mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #mammon x reader #obey me oneshots #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #( MAMMON . )#long post

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inkribbon796 · 4 years ago

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Forgotten Light Ch. 2: The House that Thomas Built

Summary: The heroes get some information from an unlikely source.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Spade’s projection made an eerie, glitchy chuckle. “And Ranboo and Bing call me overly paranoid.”

“Is this a projection or some remnant of this psychopath,” Nate demanded. “What else did this asshole leave in our base?”

“I’ll be brief, while you are no doubt demanding questions of me,” Spade began talking, his form occasionally glitching. “Around our fifth reset, everything went so poorly that it compelled me to start making some precautions. One of them was to ensure you idiots keep your hands off of Thomas.”

“Thomas is fucking dead!” Joan told the projection. “When are people going to listen to the fact that my friend is fucking dead?”

Spade glitched, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Give me a moment, I had to make a whole program to respond to your rather inane questions. How I ever did this before is beyond me. Anyway, ask your question again if you would?”

“I didn’t ask you a question,” Joan spat. “I’m asking for some decorum for the dead, you shitbag.”

The hologram glitched. “Oh, Joan, if I’d registered you were here before, I would have been gentler.”

“What do you want?” Joan demanded.

“To stop all of you from doing something idiotic. These spells can only be undone by myself,” Spade gestured to himself with a smug smile. “Or at least your out of date version of myself.”

“So that’s why you took the camera, Logan told me that Deceit hadn’t been the one to give it to us,” Nate spat.

“My conclusion for our failures to save people is because of your ineptitude and recklessness.” The hologram’s expression crashed into a frown. “My Thomas was corrupted by the deaths of three of the Sides, I wouldn’t have killed Orange if I’d known it had such an adverse effect on him. If you are even hearing this message, I can only assume we were successful in saving Roman and Virgil. A cause to be celebrated.”

“You killed Orange?” Joan balked in horror.

“He made a couple crass remarks about Roman and Virgil, while I was still metaphorically raw, one too many times and I was already in a foul mood, so I beat him to death and absorbed his aura.” The hologram had a dark look in his eyes, his tone chillingly calm.

The atmosphere went terrifyingly quiet.

After some pause, something in the hologram’s programming was directed to say something. “Thomas is not violent, despite what the situation at hand would lead you all to believe,” Spade tried to convince. “I am more than capable of dissecting flesh from bone. Roman’s and the Duke’s weapons can kill with ease. But Thomas has been trapped for years, the camera has kept him asleep for years. I believe that is worth mentioning.”

With that the projection disappeared and the nanites that were in the camera swirled into a small cube that Jackie immediately picked up and raced over to Bing who accepted it immediately.

Jackie was back as the heroes were discussing the situation, Joan picking up the camera and looking at it.

“Trusting a demon who murdered a hundred people is a shit idea,” King shouted.

“The guy could have left an explosive charge and he didn’t,” Mare reminded, walking over to get a good look at the camera. “Pixels here didn’t even try to hurt us.”

“Yeah but a demon not trying to kill us at this second doesn’t mean that it’s lying,” King reminded.

“This doesn’t change the fact that we need Logan, but they won’t be back until Sunday,” Joan cut into the argument as they studied the camera. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now.”

King let out a frustrated groan, “You do realize that if this thing gets out it will kill the Sides as we know them. For all we know, the only reason future Logan was probably able to think for himself was because there were already so many of the Sides dead and something else probably happened to the legate. There’s a lot we’ll never get to learn about the guy because of bullshit time travel.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t drop kick this thing into the closest ocean,” Joan shot back, holding the camera to their chest as if they were trying to protect it. “I’m just saying we should wait until the Sides get here to decide.”

Looking away, King was quiet as the heroes put it to a bit of a vote. They all decided to wait, mostly because Joan refused to hand over the camera until they decided to wait. Nate put it back into holding and Jackie went to discreetly check on the Sides in his normal clothes. They seemed fine and greeted Jackie warmly.

Everything was fine, and if they suspected something was wrong, then they never even hinted that there was anything off.

So the heroes waited until the Sides came back from their vacation. As they suspected, Logan knew someone had been in their home the instant he was through the door. When they rushed over to the base, there was white-hot anger in his eyes.

“I think it’s time we had that talk,” Nate told Logan.

Logan stiffened before he started stomping over to King. “Get your hands off of that.”

The logical Side slammed into a barrier as Virgil nervously took a step back and his back collided with a magical barrier that had triggered when they all passed through it.

The anxious Side let out a sharp gasp that immediately drew his three teammates’ attention. Only when Logan was sure that Virgil wasn’t being harmed, did his head sharply whip back to the other heroes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Logan demanded. “Did you all go through our house without permission?”

“Depends,” King’s fingers drummed on the camera and Logan seemed to become angrier. “If we’re talking to Logic, Morality, Anxiety, and Princey then it was for your own good. If not, this conversation is going to turn real nasty, really fast.”

“Worry not,” Roman smiled as he pushed himself in front of Logan. “None of us are that dastardly neerdowell, Deceit.”

“Oh, trust us,” Jackie scoffed. “We’d be havin’ a much different conversation if he was here. Might e’en get better answers, ‘cause yeh all sure as shite ain’t givin’ us any.”[1]

Logan pulled Roman back and the creative Side glared at him and yanked his arm away. “There appears to be some kind of misunderstanding, dispel the barriers and hand over the camera and we can talk.”

“You do know the archives and storerooms have cameras, right?” Nate reminded Logan. “We know you have long conversations with him, so start telling us what you’ve been talking about.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan glared at them.

“Is his name still Thomas or is he telling you to call him something else?” Nate demanded.

“Thomas is dead,” Logan’s tone was especially snappish. “If I could have been in communication with him I would have been years ago.”

“But yeh have been, yeh make yer way inta the storage room an’ yeh talk ta this thin’ but whene’er we try an’ get the audio it’s just a garbled mess,”[2] Jackie accused. “So either yeh tell us, or we’re gonna have ta force a conversation.”[3]

“I have not been talking with that thing, it is an inanimate object not worth talking to,” Logan denied.

“You do,” Virgil informed.

“You kinda do, Lolo,” Patton told him.

“It is a touch unsettling, but I always rehearse lines in the mirror and I hear nerds talk to a rubber duck, so who am I to judge?” Roman shrugged.

“No, I do not talk with some useless object, my coding duck is a completely different matter,” Logan defended, as Joan was loading up something on a PAD. It was a time lapse of Logan casually sitting in the storage room, his mouth moving but the audio coming out a garbled mess.

Logan felt an uncomfortable weight settle in his stomach, “I have no memory of this.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” King scoffed. “It also explains why you don’t have any aura. All the other Sides have aura but you never had any to spare.”

Logan stared at the camera and hazy memories of feeling something in him getting drained away and nothing but empty silence in his head. “I . . . I . . . What is that thing?”

“It’s a very dangerous demon, and when Thomas was spilt he did so incorrectly,” King explained. “And voila, you became his Sides. If this demon gets out or wakes back up it will turn you all into his proper thralls. A legate’s thralls only exist to bring their legate aura and mindlessly serve it.”

“And it’s trapped in that thing?” Virgil asked nervously. “No wonder Dee hated it. How do we keep it from getting out?”

Logan was quiet, just staring at the camera.

“If it is a foe to be vanquished I won’t go down without a fight,” Roman declared, drawing his sword.

“Maybe we could just talk to this legate?” Patton suggested. “We could try it.”

“What part of: if it gets out, you’ll become mindless thralls, didn’t you understand?” King demanded.

“Is it conscious?” Logan asked, silence crashing around the room. “Because if what’s in there is awake, I will rip that camera apart with my bare hands.”

“You’ll free it,” Nate reminded.

“I don’t care,” Logan decided. “Not too long ago I was in the same position. I was trapped in that drive for only eighteen hours, and I was made to suffer in my inability to move and speak. I would not wish such a fate even upon my worst enemies.”

“He’s gonna[4] get out eventually and then he’ll just be more pissed,” Virgil agreed, more than a bit of fear in his voice.

King groaned, “Yeah, you two have a point.”

“We should make a barrier, break the camera and if he attacks, we fight back,” Silver suggested.

“I think instead of the weapons and the magic,” Joan cut in, “the first thing he sees should be me.”

“An unacceptable risk,” Logan told Joan. “If this demon is even a fraction as dangerous as you all insist, you cannot be allowed near it.”

That got Joan a little upset, that Logan was so dismissive about something that was still a part of his old friend. “No, I don’t care. The others aren’t here, and I was one of the last things Thomas saw before he died. If there’s a chance he’s still in there, I want to try it.”

“We’ll be here to move in if he even tries to strike at him,” Silver promised. “Powerful or not, we outnumber him.”

“Fine,” Logan barked dismissively. “Since I’ve unwittingly had the most interaction with him, I should be their bench test for how this demon will react to the other Sides. If it proves to be non-violent or will not consume me, it will be safe to let the other near as well.”

“No!” Virgil shouted in blatant fear.

“Absolutely not,” Roman balked. “What if he hurts you.”

“I would rather him hurt me than you,” Logan decided.

Patton had a determined frown on his face.

“You think you throwing yourself into harm’s way makes it any better?” Roman spat, pointing at Logan. “I am capable of defending myself.”

“I will not watch you die again!” Logan shouted, his glasses glitching for a second and Roman flinched, fear flashing in Roman’s eyes. “You and Virgil are to be protected at all costs, whether than threat comes from hunters, demons, or anything else.”

“Lo,” Roman said, his face a mix of terror and shock. Virgil ducking behind Patton.

“The first thing he put in my head,” Logan clutched at his temples, “was the sight of your dead body, of your lifeless eyes. It is a sight I never wish to see again. Not your death, not Virgil’s, not Patton’s. It would be my undoing. I—”

Patton cut Logan off by hitting him with a hug and held him in a vice grip. “Lo we’re here together and we just wanna[5] help you.”

That finally stopped Logan’s screaming tirade. The warm, physical reminder that someone he loved was still here. Logan’s eyes turned back to normal and Patton held Logan to him. “Hey, come on big guy. We’re all still here and we’ll do this together.”

Logan, stubborn to the end, commented, “This individual has been feeding off of me for years, if I have not been taken as a thrall yet, there is the possibility that it will recognize me and I can convince it not to harm anyone. Will you give me a chance to reason with it?”

“No risks, you wait for Joan, and you run before it can hurt you,” Roman ordered.

“There are too many variables to—” Logan began to refuse.

“The only variable that we care about right now is your safety,” Roman told Logan. “Maybe you trust us for once, yeah?”

Logan looked conflicted, turning away.

Taking his hands, Roman tried to position his head so that he could look Logan in the eyes. “We’re a team, we do things together.”

Finally Logan let out a reluctant, quiet exhale, and closed his eyes. Then he gave a shallow nod.

Patton hugged Logan tighter. “We wait for Joan and the others, and when it’s safe, we all go out together.”

Then we’ll all die together. Logan thought morosely, but he didn’t say anything. His attention instead turned to Virgil who was not doing well with the situation. Between the undercurrent of fear in the room, it was having an adverse effect on his own crumbling mental state.

He was crying, and shaking, little anxious noises coming from him. To try and offer what comfort he could, Logan let go of Roman and gently pulled Virgil towards him.

Immediately Virgil bows his head forward to hide it in Logan’s chest.

Logan leaned forward and kissed the top of Virgil’s forehead. “My darling nightshade, I would let nothing set their finger on you if I were capable.”

Virgil’s stressed shaking began to get worse and he tried to press his head further into Logan’s chest. Logan’s free hand rubbed comforting circles into Virgil’s back as he tried to be as soothing as the situation would allow.

When Virgil stopped shaking as much, Logan could stand to take his attention off of Virgil.

Jack walked over. “Maybe yeh four shouldn’t be in the room when we pop the seal, we get some ‘a yer aura Logan, an’ we can try ta keep yeh guys safe.”[6]

Logan nodded and the other three Sides let him pull away long enough for King and Nate to use his aura to undo all the enchantments Spade had placed on it. Leaving the camera, at last, defenseless. The Sides were allowed to pass through the barrier.

Roman and Patton pulled Logan back into their group as they walked down the hall, turning out of sight.

It left the other heroes to get ready in the somber mood. Joan was finally left alone with the camera and the spell to crack open the camera. Everyone else who wasn’t Joan or a side was behind a protective barrier that Nate and Mare enchanting to keep them invisible until they needed to defend Joan or the Sides.

Nate stepped out to double check the barrier before walking over to Joan. With a heavy sigh he looked down the hallways, “Ready?”

Joan nodded, Nate catching the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright,” Nate took a deep breath as he readied his magic. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Behind the wall!”

Nate pulled and severed the line as Joan took the camera and it shook before it began to glow. Then the camera cracked and a soft white light came from the old device as a person dropped out of the light.

Joan immediately recognized Thomas’s face and they tried to listen for any signs of life. “Thomas” was deathly quiet and still eyes closed before his eyelids twitched and he groaned.

“Thomas?” Joan urged gently, keeping out of direct arm’s reach but moving closer. “Are you okay buddy?”

Thomas blinked open his eyes and began to weakly pick himself up, looking up at his old friend, “Joan?”

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. We’d be having a much different conversation if he was here. Might even get better answers, because you all sure as shit aren’t giving us any.

2. But you have been, you make your way into the storage room and you talk to this thing but whenever we try and get the audio it’s just a garbled mess

3. So either you tell us, or we’re going to have to force a conversation.

4. going to

5. wanna

6. Maybe you four shouldn’t be in the room when we pop the seal, we get some of your aura Logan, and we can try to keep you guys safe.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #footnotes #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Silver Shepherd #King of the Squirrels #Jackieboy Man #Joan Stokes #Natewantstobattle #Natemare #hey there Spade #come by to be plot relevant again?#angst #existential crisis hour #threats of loss of identity #LAMP

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

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Day 31 : Not Lonely Anymore - Obey Me! Brothers

"Why the gloom face, Kat?" Mammon asked as I stared blankly at my phone, playing a game absent-mindedly. "...I'm just tired, I guess." I muttered, not wanting to look at the white haired man. "Haven't slept enough, huh? Well, c'mon, maybe you just overworked yourself with studying again. I mean, chillax a bit, you're just like Lucifer sometimes, but I can't take care of you all the time...Wait, actually, I can...Huh..." Mammon caressed his non-existent beard, almost as if he just had a revelation. "Well...I and Lucifer are very much alike. Sometimes it's scary when I realise just how very alike we are. I'm sure you, of all people, realised that, haven't you?" I sighed, dragging my hands down my face in exasperation. "Yeah, 'course I did! That's what worries me, sometimes! But, hey, at least you ain't got some sort of unhealthy obsession with Lord Diavolo...You don't, do you?" Mammon's eyes widened in mock shock, and I got to my feet, signaling for the man to come to dinner with me in the dinner room, where we met the other brothers.

"What are you all doing these days?" I asked, pushing around my food with a fork. "I'm going to sleep." Belphie spoke, as Beel munched on food, as usual. "I'm cooking and have a reservation at Hell's Kitchen and a match soon." "I have some friends inviting me on a trip, and Asmo's coming with me since there are clubs there." Satan pointed out simply, barely lifting his gaze from his book. "I have work to do...Gotta repay some debts...And Lucifer is burried in work as usual. And Levi ain't here 'cause some new game appeared and he hasn't left the room in 3 days already." Mammon explained for the older brothers, and I could only look down and nod in agreement. "Seems like y'all are incredibly busy during this time of the year...Oh, wait, my phone's ringing...? My human world phone...?" I muttered, getting up and walking around the room. "Yeah, hey, how are things?" I asked softly, not really wanting my conversation to be heard by the demons."Oh, hey, well...I wanted to tell you that I can't come to your birthday anymore. I know, I know, I promised you months ago that I will come, but, uh...My boyfriend made a reservation to the mountains for ski and I couldn't refuse...Y'know, I didn't just want to stay home like a lonely depressed loser on New Year's." the self-proclaiemed best friend of mine said in a whiny voice, but it was obvious she couldn't care less about me and she had her priorities set since the second she got together with the guy. "...That's alright...There's always next year...Or the year after...And so on. Have fun on your trip. Bye." I told her, hanging up the phone and staring at the screen, gritting my teeth in betrayal, disappointment and anger. "Like a lonely depressed loser, huh..." I muttered to myself, robotically exiting the room and going to mine, getting on my laptop to unwind a bit by waching "The Real HouseSuccubi of Devildom", only to receive a text from the other friend who was supposed to come to my birthday, only to say she didn't realise my party was on the 2nd, not on the 3rd, as is my actual birthday, so she couldn't come anymore, as she was too busy with many other parties.

Great.

Guess they're right.

I really am the only lonely depressed loser from all groups of so called friends that I have.As tomorrow is December 31st, and I had to do some New Year's and Birthday shopping, I packed my laptop and other gadgets and made my way to Diavolo's Castle, only to be stopped by Lucifer, as we bumped into each other in one of the many golden corridors.

"Did Lord Diavolo request a meeting with you too, Katrina?" Lucifer asked, but I could only shake my head, not feeling up to chatting. "No. I want to tell him to get me home for a week. No big deal, really." I shrugged simply, knocking and walking together in the Demon Prince's office, and telling him my request, which he accepted, but his eyes showed a bit of concern and skepticism that I chose to completely ignore. "That's right, I believe humans celebrate New Year's every year, correct?" Lucifer asked, widening his eyes in realisation. “...Yeah.” I nodded, hoping to have this interrogation ending already. “I suppose you’re going to gather around with your friends and celebrate, correct? That’s what humans do with these kinds of festivities, from what I gathered.” the brunet continued, which made me sigh and roll my eyes in exasperation. “Yeah. That’s if you have friends. If not, you’re a lonely depressed loser who spends every festivity at home, alone, watching crappy TV shows, drinking cheap alcohol and eating pizza and ice cream until you can’t eat anymore. Fun, isn’t it? Now, can I go, already? Yes? Thank you, bye.” I gave them a sarcastic, overly exaggerated grin, waving a bit before stepping into the portal and finding myself back in my world, inside my apartment. “...Welcome home, bitch.” I muttered to myself, taking a deep sigh and opening all windows to get fresh air in, while I’d go and order a shit ton of alcohol and cheap frozen pizza boxes.

This is absolutely tragic and miserable, and I absolutely hate it. Not that I’m surprised, really. Not even one bit. If I’m fated to be forever alone and living in ultimate misery, might as well do it in style like doctor Gregory House - Drinking booze, all alone, eating snacks and watching the Real Housewives of whatever bitchin’ U.S. state I can find, starting with Beverly Hills.

Episodes passed by fast, seasons as well, and bottles and boxes were discarded to the floor at an indefinite rate, since I completely extracted myself from real life, choosing to turn off my phones and keeping them in another room, and I had no wall clocks, so the only way to estimate time was the darkness outside... And considering the drapes were closed and the only lights from the house were coming from the big Smart TV and the mini disco ball I had from the year before, that I had placed in the middle of the living room table, that, if you were to look at the rapidly moving, colourful dots from the walls, you’d get high as a kite without even having to snort a white line.

Gosh, this is boring.

Oh, hear that, it’s midnight already, they’re shooting fireworks outside -... Ah, right, I forgot to buy some myself. Well, doesn’t matter, ain’t like I can enjoy them with anyone.

What was that quote...

‘There’s always next year’

That’s what my grandparents would say when I was little and they didn’t want to come to see me on my birthday.

There’s always next year.

But there was no next year since then, because they disowned me and my parents because of some petty fight.

How great life without a family is.

There’s always next year...To make new friends, to get a boyfriend, to find a purpose in life that isn’t simply overworking yourself until you collapse on the spot, that isn’t...Being a lonely depressed loser...

And, ideally, not being such a pity-wallowing idiot, like I am now.

I had no idea how long I stood on the couch, lounging around, the thin blanket over my head and watching, without paying much attention, tv TV show, I head a loud pop and suddenly, the lights got turned on in my apartment, making me squeak and put the blanket over my face so my eyes wouldn’t be burning anymore.

“Is that how humans celebrate? Pretty lame if you ask me.” the familiar voice of Asmodeus was heard, and I could only groan in annoyance. “Well, I’m SORRY for offending you, Queen Bee, but not everyone is liked by all the people in the world, and not everyone has FRIENDS! Yes, this is fucking pathetic, but what the hell am I supposed to do anyway? This is what all my celebrations look like since all my friends got boyfriends and they clearly don’t give a flying fuck about me. Why are y’all here anyway? Get the hell back to your stupid work, I don’t need everyone to see how much of a lonely depressed loser I am.” after my angry outburst, I hid back in my blanket, covering my face, hoping that my form wouldn’t be trembling like a sad and angry chihuahua trying to be intimidating. “Wait, hold up, didn’t you say you were having a birthday party in a few days? With friends and all that?” Mammon asked, dropping on the couch next to me. “Yeah, well, I cancelled it. Everyone’s too busy to come. They got boyfriends. Even if they promised to come, I’m nobody’s first option and I’ll never me. I’m resigned to that, I know I’ll always be the lonely depressed loser, as my friends called it, so there’s that. Now, if you’ll PLEASE leave me the hell alone and weep in self-pity, I would be really grateful. Bye.” I emphasised the word that was supposed to make them understand and bugger off, but, instead, the other 6 brothers plopped down on the couched, squeezing each other and crawling all over me. “Well, they aren’t real friends, are they? The Lord of Shadows would never treat Henry so terribly! The Lord of Shadows stay by Henry’s side through all the good and bad moments without fail!” Levi preached, making me chuckle slightly, despite the tears that were welling up in my eyes. “Besides, you kinda became our family, so no matter what, you are our first priority, even if we don’t really show it.” Belphie smiled softly, taking off the blanket from my head and stroking my hair. “You are a special person and you deserve to be treated as such. Perhaps humans are too narrow-minded and blind to see it, but we do. You’re always so sweet, quiet and kind, that when you can’t hold your emotions anymore and they got too bottled up, it shows how miserable and stressed out you are. I get it. And you at the dinner table...You were really sad.” Satan spoke from one of the couch arm rests, hoping to make me feel better. “Not to mention, when we were in Diavolo’s room, you were really on the edge. We may have things to do, but they’re all pretty usual and mundane, so they can be put aside for a later time. Humans don’t live as long as we do, so we take time for granted, but when you should cherish every second you’re alive, living with such depression isn’t the right way to go.” Lucifer smiled like a kitten trying to reassure me. “Yeah, even Lord Diavolo got worried when he heard you speak, Lucifer said, and wanted to make sure you’re okay, so he had Barbatos bake some sweets for you.” Beel grinned, pointing to the tons of cakes placed on my table. “You’ve been more cheerful whenever you were in the Devildom, but here, it feels like you’re always so sad, and I hate seeing you like this. You deserve so much better than the way they’re treating you, Kat!” Asmo hugged me tightly, and I could only scoff. “Yeah, that’s what I hear all the time from everyone. You deserve better. Good, then why don’t you treat me better?! If I truly deserved better, you would treat me better! ...Everyone’s such a hypocrite nowadays...It’s impossible to find anyone genuine here.” I complained about my shit experience with people. “Well, y’know, people suck, right? Looks like they suck more than demons do, and we’re all sins, damn it! Anyway, you have as now, Kat, so who cares about them? You belong with us, at least we care about you even when we’re pissing you off. And we’d never abandon you like that, ‘specially on your birthday! Hey, Kat look at me...Now, smile. Yeah, like that.” Mammon told me to smile, but he pinched my cheeks and forced a wide and kinda painful grin on my face, only to make me chuckle nonetheless. “...Thanks, guys. I owe you.” I muttered, looking down and trying to hide my face a bit, but the guys hugged me, making me finally feel happy and warm. “You owe us nothing, Katrina, just to try to find happiness in other places other than this miserable Earth.” Lucifer advised me, and I couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Yeah...I will. I’m sure I will. Everything’s better when demons are involved.” I joked, shrugging my shoulders dramatically, as the others laughed at my comment, and finally, we could start a proper party with deafeningly loud music, dancing and hella on point food.

Who’s the lonely depressed loser now, bitch?

#fluffy self-cember #self-indulgend #obey me x reader #obey me x kat #obey me self insert #christmas #fluffy december #self indulgent december

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Wally Franks, but he's a wizard.

One wizard Wally coming right up!

It was a miracle how the Janitor kept the studio clean.

Even when it was just a tiny shack of a building, it was a busy tiny shack of a building that had ink and papers constantly spilling everywhere; crumpled up balls of paper that would miss the trashcans, broken bottles of ink, and god knows what else because people are messy. But it was manageable and easily cleaned. After all, if Wally 'slacks off until the last possible second every single day in that dumb hat of his' Franks managed to keep the place spotless, it couldn't be that hard.

Anyone in the studio could recognize Wally without even meeting the man because of that ridiculous hat, but nobody could tell why he wore such a thing as he always changed the story behind it.

"Laugh now, but dese are all the rage ouva in dose hoity-toity upscale cities. I'm gonna mistaken for one of those shmucks and get famous!"

"Oh, dis old thing? Okay, let me set the stage fah ya: Way, way, back in good ol' 1692, my great-great-insert a couple dozen or so more 'greats' in dere grandpa really cheesed off a witch in da woods... *one over the top ridiculous story later* ...and now my entire bloodline is cursed to weah stupid hats."

"I Might've lost da first bet, but ya should've seen da getup the outha guy's stuck with!"

"Da best way ta keep a clown from sneakin' up an killin' ya is ta trick 'em into thinkin' you're one of them."

"All my outha hats got covered in ink."

"Didn't ya see dat Mickey Mouse short in da 'Fantasia' thang Disney put out? Obviously I wear dis stupid hat 'cause gives me magical powers."

"Isn't 'Steamboat Willie' they only animation that Disney made?"

"Aw shoot- I mean, I must've been thinkin' about something else then."

Often after answering he'd laugh and nonchalantly change the subject. Nobody really thought anything of it, the Janitor was the biggest chatterbox in the studio and always had a bunch of different subjects on his mind.

The day after Henry left, the studio expanded.

More rooms to fill with art, more people to fill the void of the lost creator, more ink to fuel it all. In fact, it didn’t stop there, why should it? Joey more musicians and started hiring voice actors to make future cartoons even better than the old ones, to prove to himself that he didn't need Henry to make their creation successful. Yet in spite of this rapid growth, the cleaning staff still only had one member; a single janitor and his stupid, colorful, pointy hat.

Joey didn’t even bother trying to hire anyone else for the studio’s cleaning staff. Even when animators and musicians got concerned for Wally about being the only janitor at such a big studio, Joey always said that he could never find anyone as ‘talented’ as Wally for the job. And to the Director’s credit, he was correct. No matter how large the studio grew, no matter how often the janitor slacked off, and no matter how bad the messes got, the studio would always be completely and perfectly spotless when the workers arrived in the morning. While Wally did complain to high heaven about having to clean up after everybody and often repeated what was essentially now his catchphrase, he never seemed to be exhausted from the job itself. If anything, he seemed to be overall more well rested than the other staff.

However, almost no one paid mind to this, after all, they work to do and had deadlines to meet, no time to spend wondering about the Janitor's uncanny ability to stay on top of his workload, they just were used to it and accepted it as one of the studio workers’ natural mysteries. Like how the building felt like it was changing itself sometimes, or how the projectionist seemed to be anywhere and or everywhere, or how the music director seemed to be a seer who made bitter, sarcastic, and or dry humored remarks that would often turn into accurate predictions of the future, or how Joey always seemed to know where everyone in the studio was. (Okay, that last one might’ve just been that he had the building wiretapped and there was nothing supernatural about that.)

Thankfully for Wally Franks, there was only one person who really took the time to sit down and question how he managed to get all several stories of the now almost constantly inked studio completely spotless was the man who had piled on a couple extra chores with his and his machine's arrival.

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

“So I’m cleaning da studio late at night an' I almost forgot dat Mistah Conner started doing late night shifts an' he almost caught me in full swing, I had brooms and mops out flyin' everywhere an' he almost saw everythang! Luckily, his footsteps are pretty heavy so it was easy ta know when he was coming but man dat was close! And I'm startin' ta think he's caught on to da fact dat there's something fishy goin' on down 'ere an' I bet I was really something suspicious back 'dere. 'Dis is the first time since dat incident he let me outta his sight while on da clock. What do ya think Sam? Last straw? Should I really get outta here before it gets worse? How'd my futuah look eitheah way?"

The music director sighed in annoyance before answering the janitor.

"For the last goddamned time, I CAN'T really see the future, Franks! That's just a dumb running joke between the studio."

"But you definitely can! And wit' accuracy too! remembah when ya told me ta not eat dat sandwich in the fridge or else I'd get punched even though it was MY Sandwich and afta I shrugged ya off, Jerry went an' clocked me in da jaw? You saw the freakin' futuah! You saw that I'd get punched and ya tried ta warn me!"

"Or, I saw the fact you have a long history of eating other people's food, had my back turned to you at the moment, and thought you were eating Jerry's sandwich. Jerry probably also thought you were eating his sandwich because you two brought in the exact same lunch!"

The musician stood up from his seat to refill his coffee mug, but before he could, the janitor dropped down on his knees in front of him and gave him his best 'puppy dog eyes'.

"C'mon Sammy! Please tell me what I should do! I don't wanna end up stuck in jail or dead from this! I have a girlfriend and a kid!"

The unwilling prophet pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of something to tell the "wizard" to get him off his back.

"My best advice to you is to tell Conner about your secret in a secluded area, preferably a night shift you both work. If he doesn't believe you, demonstrate a simple yet flashy spell. And then wait for his reaction. If you get the feeling he's going to tell the world, tell him that if he tells anyone else, you will curse him and his entire bloodline."

"Wait, really? I mean, I don't plan on ignorin' ya but is dat really the best caurse of action?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well fer starters, cursing an entirah bloodline ain't somethin' you should take lightly! Even if it's something small, just, an' kinda silly like; 'Every time ya yell at someone for somethin' they didn't do, yer voice turns all high pitched and squeaky'. Ya could end up ruinin' someone's life! What if Tom's great-great grandson or whateva decided ta become a lawyeah and while defendin' his client, his voice got all squeaky. He'd be da laughin' stock of da legal system an' I'd be ta blame!"

"Okay, fine. Then just curse Conner specifically if he tries to ruin your life."

"But I don't even use magic on livin' things! What if I screw up an' accidentally turn him inta some kinda squeaky toy? Besides, is dere any otha way than just, revealing my secret dat I kept for my entirah life ta some guy who came in here an' started bossin' me around?"

Sammy rolled his eyes in annoyance. An action that registered to Wally as 'Why do these people keep asking me for help with the future if they keep fighting against me over the advice I give?' While Sammy knew his action meant 'Why am I constantly being bothered by my coworkers over their dumb running jokes pretending that magic is real?'

"Well, you told me, didn't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but dat's different! We're both, you know, and he's... well, not! I know you won't out me, but he might, even unda da threat of cursing!"

The two stood in silence for a bit before Sammy tried to leave again and Wally blocked his way.

"Just in case, do ya have any otha predictions?"

"I predict that if you stand between me and the coffee machine for any longer, you will suffer a terrible fate by my hands."

"Okay, okay! jeeze..."

And as the musician left for the break room, Wally silently dreaded the next time he and Tom would work a night shift together. Hopefully the studio's constantly irritated oracle was right about this being the best course of action.

#bendy and the ink machine #wally franks #sammy lawrence #batim au #fanfic #request

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cloudshapedpatch · 5 years ago

Text

Misguided Royalty

Chapter 1: The Royal Guard Ain’t Shit

💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚

The wind teased the small buds on the trees. The nearly bare branches swayed in the pleasant breeze. Far off yonder laid the mountains. They appeared blue against the cloudy sky, and the tips of the peaks shone white with glittering snowmelt.

Despite the gloomy weather, a girl crept among the bushes of her mother's garden. She was fourteen years old, and dreading her next birthday. This part is important, so you must listen closely.

A 15 year old girl was deemed a woman. A great party was held in her honor to celebrate her passing into adulthood. She would begin courting the young men of the town, laying her fate down in the hands of her father.

This particular girl, however, was not excited for her 15th birthday.

It was not because she thought her party would be boring. She was sure it would be the talk of the town.

It was not because she did not want to marry. She was quite the romantic, and had been dreaming of this for quite some time.

It was not because she wanted to remain a child, young and free. She was ready to be esteemed as a responsible adult.

Well, maybe she was a little nervous because of those things. But those thoughts gave her the warm flutters of anticipation. The real reason she did not want to turn 15 was because of the role it placed on her shoulders.

For at 15, she was set to become the next ruler of China.

So, what was the princess doing in the garden while the sky was preparing to weep? She was running from her scholar.

Marinette was not fond of most of her studies. She ~

Oh, I apologize. Did I forget to mention her name? Well, it's Marinette. Princess Marinette Cheng. I'll have to ask that you excuse my pardon.

As I was saying, Marinette liked to learn of her kingdom's history, and of it's geography. However, she did not enjoy her etiquette counseling. Poor child was constantly dropping tea cups and tripping over her own two feet. It seemed, for the young girl, that the list of rules to follow was ever-growing.

So Marinette, the esteemed princess, was crouching among the rose bushes and making her way to the stone arches on the other side of the statue of her mother. If she could just get there, then she could use the hidden passage and ~

“Your Highness! This is not very lady-like of you."

Marinette rolled her eyes whilst still hidden, but heaved a sigh and stood. Her hands fiddled with a ribbon from her dress.

"I apologize."

“Princess, you must master your studies. You must be a capable empress by the solstice."

It was true. Her birthday was on the summer equinox, fitting for royalty if I may say so. She would have to not only be ready to become empress, but also to become a wife.

"Oh, you and I both know I'd just be a consort." She said bitterly.

Her scholar, a stocky elder whose surname was Damocles, gasped.

"That is hardly befitting language to be coming from you. You are to be empress."

However, Marinette could only roll her eyes. Damocles gave her a wary look, and she looked to her feet in shame.

“Besides, Your Highness, it is not safe out here. We must go inside at once.”

Even I hate to admit it, but he was right. This was no time for the princess to be dawdling about in the open. Who knows who could be listening?

Well, I would know. But that is because I am the all-knowing narrator. You must find out of your own accord as the story progresses.

Sir Damocles led the upset princess back into the palace, where she was immediately summoned to her room. She was going to have dinner with the emperor tonight, she must look her finest.

Many maids fluttered about Marinette, tugging at her clothes and hair. She did not like this one little bit. She preferred the nightly routine better; it was much more gentle. But alas, soon her makeup was touched to match her fresh hair-do.

This was the dinner attire. The silk weighed heavily on her shoulders. And oh, how she fumed as she made her way to the dining hall.

At one end of the long table sat her mother with her shimmering eyes. Everyone adored Empress Sabine. She was just and kind to the entire kingdom, and was always making trips to far off cities to check on the people.

And at the other end of the table sat the Emperor himself. His large frame almost made the roast boar seem small in front of him.

“Thank you for joining us, Princess. Please, have a seat.”

Warily, Marinette sat at the middle of the long table. Silence filled the room as she was served.

Sabine cleared her throat after many long minutes. “So, honey, how were your studies?”

“They were fine, mother. They were the same as they always are.” She gave her steaming plate more attention than it deserved.

My goodness, I’ve never known how moody a child could be until Marinette came around.

Emperor Dupain looked up from his food to stare at Marinette. “Do we need to hire a new teacher?”

“NO!”

The only sound the could be heard was Empress Sabine’s chopsticks falling on the table.

“I mean... that won’t be needed, Your Majesty. Damocles is a fantastic teacher. Thank you.”

“If there is a problem with your studies, then it must be addressed.”

“No, Your Majesty. There is no issue.”

“I just want what is best for you.”

“I can’t say that I agree, tìdài. You want what’s best for the kingdom.”

“Marinette!” Empress Sabine scolded, but she had already stood from the table.

“If you will excuse me, I must be getting some rest. I have a lot more to learn from Sir Damocles in the morning.” And then, she was gone.

She had stormed up to her room. Very typical of her.

Marinette’s personal maids had followed her into her bedroom to remove her makeup and help her into her nightclothes, but she waved them away glumly. Thankfully for the sanity of everyone in the castle, they knew just what to do when the princess was feeling down. So they sent word for the apprentice messenger.

The sun was setting when Alya Cesaire arrived at the palace gates. A royal guard hurried her through a side entrance and immediately to Marinette’s bedroom.

Upon hearing the knock on her door, Marinette only groaned.

“Oh please, Your Exquisite Royalness, do let me in.”

Alya smirked to the guard as they heard something hard fall to the ground on the other side of the door, followed by a quiet grunt of pain. Then in a flash, Alya was pulled into the room and onto the bed.

“Alya! What are you doing here?” The blue haired girl practically shouted.

“I’m here to see you, of course! Why else would I have rode in at sunset?”

“An important message?”

“Possibly. I do have the latest gossip from the market square. Would you like to hear it?”

“Would I? You know it always cheers me up.”

Marinette settled herself on her bed while Alya dramatically cleared her throat.

“Well, everyone is still quite upset with Emperor Dupain. The raised taxes are causing some women to start selling pottery and jewelry. Although, no one is buying because everyone else is struggling.”

“Awful! What else?”

“Lady Haprele got a new hat and has been parading the streets with it. It’s absolutely heinous.”

The girls giggled quietly as Alya started to brush Marinette’s long hair.

Unbeknownst to them, a stranger lurked in the shadows of the princess’s balcony.

He had been watching her all day. He listened in the garden, he eavesdropped their dinner conversation. He had a plan for exactly how he was going to obtain the bounty over the princess’s head. 5,000 gold pieces was certainly worth the effort to kill her.

I don’t know. He seemed like a bitch when he accepted the job.

Now he was here, sitting behind a tall plant and listening to her and Alya chatting about the latest gossip and occasionally switching back to talk about her father.

Correction; her step-father.

Emperor Dupain was not liked among the people. He taxed them when he wanted to go on a trip and barley kept the kingdom in working order. Anyone who was willing to marry him surely was just as uncaring as him. You can imagine how surprised the citizens felt about meeting their new Empress. But they had never seen the heir to their throne yet. She had yet to make an appearance, and her absence reminded everyone of the Emperor. It was not unexpected for the people to be wary. But oh, how they hated her. Never even met her, and yet they wanted her dead.

Could you blame the bounty hunter for accepting? Perhaps the Emperor would be next, and their kingdom would be saved under the wise hand of Empress Sabine. He made a silent promise that he would never let the corrupt princess into power.

This, however, became a problem. As he spent more and more time listening, he started sympathizing for her. He had yet to lay eyes on her, but when he did he was sure that he would be able to go through with the treason.

His cat-like ears twitched as he heard the Princess’s sweet voice bid her friend goodbye. He readied to jump into action, dagger in hand, as she stepped out into the night.

“Hello, Princess. It seems you’ve run out of time.”

She spun on her heel and gasped. And that was when he saw her.

Beautiful. Was the first thing that came to to his mind. His heart stopped beating for a moment, then pumped double-time as her impossibly blue eyes glittered with unshed tears.

“You’re... you’re... you’re Chat Noir.” It came as a coarse whisper. His heart twinged to hear her so scared, and it confused him.

Hell, I’d be confused too.

Before he could process the situation, she had stepped back, her foot catching on a flower pot. His callused hand grabbed her own before she could fall.

She looked at him in fear and confusion, her eyes flitting to the sharp dagger dangling lazily in his free hand.

Almost hastily, he pulled her up until she got her footing.

“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

Now that he wanted to speak, the words stuck in his throat.

“Um...”

Without thinking, he sheathed his knife. He looked away only to give in and gaze at her once again.

“That was the plan, yes.”

Much to his surprise, she took a deep breath and held her arms out at her sides, eyes shut tight. “Do what you must. I must be worth a lot. That is, assuming you’re getting paid off.”

“Are you sure, Your Highness? Does 5 grand seem enough?”

“Dear goodness, I’d have thought I was worth more than that.”

“Have you no sense of self preservation?”

“At this rate, I’ll be lucky to make it to the solstice.”

Now Chat Noir was heavily confused. On one hand, everything he had heard of the princess was malicious. But the girl standing valiantly before him was anything but.

“What’s happening on the solstice?”

Marinette opened one eye. “You don’t know?”

“I can’t say that I do, Princess.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Her hand dropped dramatically to her hips. “I will be turning fifteen. I will begin courting and soon after I will be married. I suppose to just become a consort.”

Chat Noir stood slack-jaw to hear the princess speak in this way.

“But I guess I won’t get to see that day, hm? Do you make all your victims talk like this?”

“Well, you aren’t a victim.” He said confidently. Truth be told, he felt a little weak. Then and there, he decided he could not kill the princess. Something stirred inside that told him not to. And when your life is spent on the run, you learn to trust your gut.

He still seems shady to me.

“I’m not?”

“Not anymore.”

“I suppose that’s good.” She still looked troubled, but she slowly walked over to her door. “Um, good night?”

“Yeah. I... I mean, good night, Your Highness.”

She certainly had not let him off the hook. Good for her! Marinette looked at him quizzically before softly closing her door and closing the curtains.

As Chat Noir leapt off the dark balcony, he had many thoughts swirling in his mind. But the most prominent one was, ‘What will I tell Papillon?’

#@mikoriin #marichat #secret lovers au #ancient china #princess and a bounty hunter #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #marinette cheng

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years ago

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Goodnight, Chris McQueen

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

I love you, Brat I hope you know that....... My biggest fear was becoming my old man Drinkin', philanderin', livin' for nothin' I wanted so much more for my little girl But Babe, I'm just like him A haunted soldier That never came back from the war I tried so hard to make you laugh Just so you didn't see me cryin' Funny names, and stupid jokes I guess, don't band-aid the holes Punched through the walls and in Your mother's heart Jesus, maybe this dad thing Was a cosmic hoax right from the start I love you like a big dog I'd die twice just to give you a hug Before I go, I want you to know I'm proud of my kid I could never do what you did It's like you told your ma You're made of steel, Vic You threw the bottle away You sure as hell didn't need me But you let your broken down dad save the day I ain't half the hero to you though As you are to Wayne Give 'em HELL, Babe Fight the good fight Don't cry over me I won't die as I lived A good for nothin' It's gonna mean somethin' I gotta believe Don't stay here, Brat, trapped in my death scene Remember the good stuff, when they say "Goodnight, Chris McQueen."

In the words of the illustrious Linda McQueen........ "Holy HELL." It's been days, and I've been in a morose fog, only just now emerging, shaking and fighting the tears, even as I write this, half numb, and half agony. I'm shocked, dismayed, and altogether fragile. The second I saw that this episode was going to be called, "Chris McQueen," I couldn't have been more thrilled, and my heart soared, excited! Chris McQueen has SHINED this season, our own resident white knight, slaying Vic's demons, both of the vice, and supernatural variety. It was no mistake, or random shuffle of fate, that her magic bridge led her back to her dad. He's been a gun-wielding, bomb-making, godsend!!! He helped her quit drinking, heartbroken that his little girl had inherited his disastrous coping mechanisms, refusing to let it drown her the way it did him. He's fought at her side, let her lean on him, he's become her safe place. He's given her the best advice about fighting for Lou, choosing her family, and oh yeah, he SINGLEHANDEDLY took on Bing Partridge, not just once, but TWICE!!!

If NOS4A2 has a CHAMPION, a dark horse in the game, it's hands down Chris McQueen. If anyone is deserving of their own personal, entitled episode, it's the vindicated father who did the work, fought like HELL for his redemption, made himself a better person for his daughter. That rush of flooding joy, cooled to wary concern, and hesitant dread, however, when I realized....... This honour could be his final tribute.......

Don't kill Chris McQueen........ I pleaded over and over in my mind, the frantic cry, resounding, even as I pressed play. I hadn't been able to shake that sinister, creeping feeling all day, and when we opened onto Chris at a funeral, my relief flooded in, graciously thankful to see him alive!!! Wait, he looked younger, like WAY younger, even younger than the first season, and oh my god, hold on, whose funeral is this!? Someone died........ my stomach knotting again, trying to figure out who, and we realize that this is Chris, decades ago, speaking at his Dad's funeral.

I loved, and I mean LOVED this opener. It's just so beautifully real, and one hundred percent Chris McQueen, as he muses about his father's life, and his own, and how the two came to mirror each other. He's funny, irreverent, vulnerable, and by the end, absolutely heartbreaking. It's a searing portrait of a broken man, and everything that caused his life to fracture, every death, that made him wish he was never born.

"When I came back from the gulf, I finally understood why he was pissed off all the time, because he knew there was no reason for him to born, and that nobody was going to give a shit when he died."

Chris' voice cracks, and my eyes sting, because I feel it, his greatest fear, and I know he's not just talking about his father, he's talking about himself, effectually delivering his own eulogy, and again I implored the fates...... Don't kill Chris McQueen.

Aaaaaaaaah, and HELLO Baby Vic!!! Oh my gosh, she's so precious, about eight years old, frowning as her father speaks, huddled close to her mother, and then when Chris becomes too overwhelmed with his anger and emotions to go on, tearing out of the church, she frantically chases after him, calling for him!!! Even then, she was her daddy's girl!!! Once again, I must COMMEND NOS4A2 for choosing the perfect miniature of our badass leading lady, because this girl is the very IMAGE of Ashleigh, and it was such a joy to see her fierce features, and resolve, in a dear little face!!! More Baby Vic, PLEASE!!!

Flashforward to the present day, and Team McQueen is ready and raring to hit the road. I loved this entire scene. The love between her and Lou as she tells him goodbye, and says, "I'm going to go get our boy." An achingly beautiful moment, these two give me life, and have become my FAVOURITE couple on the show!!! I may have been purely Team Drew Butler, Season One, but now I can't imagine our beautiful badass without her Teddy Bear Man, and I ship McCarmody so freaking hard!!! Vic revs the Triumph's engine, testing it, gearing up with her Dad, and it hits me....... She doesn't have to hide it, sneak away to go do her Creative Hero thing, he accepts her for exactly who she is, believes in her gift enough to go with her. For the first time..... Vic McQueen isn't riding alone........

Linda is an absolute rollicking delight, emphatic in her protest, and I have just come to LOVE her so much!!! "I don't know about this Vicki, taking explosives across a magical bridge IN THE RAIN!!!!" God BLESS this woman, she's so maternal here, and I love it, I see how much she's changed, becoming this mother and ex wife even, that isn't afraid to express her feelings and doubts, no longer shackled by the fear that she's destined to be alone.

"You're my only kid, Vicki, My Baby."

"You know me, Ma, made of steel, remember?"

Awwwwww oh my gosh, so freaking CUTE, and for the first time, they feel like a real family, The McQueen Clan on a Mission, slaying psychotic kidnappers, and rescuing lost children, becoming the family business. Linda's still unsure, hurrying after Chris and Vic, still thinking they're both CRAZY, when she sees it for the first time....... Her eyes widen impossibly, as a rickety, wooden, covered bridge, appears on the street in front of them, and her reaction is EVERYTHING we've been waiting for, I found myself, leaping off the couch, cheering as she says it. "Holy HELL!!!"

Chris' childlike wonder, as he looks up into the dark eves, and watches the bats flutter, the Triumph roaring through the beams of breaking light, weaving in and out of shadow, is such a joy to behold. He believed in it, believed in her, even without seeing, and it means that much more to Vic, you can tell. It's also symbolic, Vic sharing her world with her father, bringing him into her inscape, fighting the good fight TOGETHER, both soldiers. I loved it, every second.

Surprise, surprise, when they roll up to the junkyard, Bing Partridge isn't dead, because some cockroaches just won't DIE!!!! Like an AVENGING ANGEL, Chris McQueen is all of us, flying off that bike, and assailing Bing with murderous fury, backhanding his stupid face with the gun, over and over, impaling him deeper with the protruding rod, and I swear, I wanted to run to him, and HUG him so tightly, so freaking PROUD!!!! THANK YOU, CHRIS MCQUEEN!!!

"Where is he, you SICK, Son of a BITCH!?!?"

"HE CAN'T HELP US IF HE'S DEAD!!!!!"

Vic screams at her father, angrily chastising this good and proper beating that has been a LONG time coming!!!! I'm sorry, isn't that how ANY sane person would react to a sadistic, murdering, rapist whose made their life a LIVING HELL!? What gives, Victoria!? Chris falls back, as confused as I was, and then shakes his head, as he apologizes vehemently, which Vic is having none of. She's AWFUL to her father from this moment forward, rude and spiteful, blaming him for everything, and as much as I love the girl, in this unjust punishment, she REALLY lives up to her nickname, Brat.

This Kids Glove approach to Bing Partridge is MADDENING enough to make me PSYCHOTIC!!! BING. IS. EVIL. Say it with me, NOS4A2!!!! It's like they are hellbent on redeeming the ONE character that is beyond saving, a man that even God, himself, would look at reviled, and say, "Get thee behind me, SATAN!!!" Last week they failed, first through the deus ex machina epiphany, and then through the attempted murder/suicide, so they tried even harder, using a meeker approach, making him say manipulative propaganda like, "I wish I'd never met Mr. Manx, because then Vic McQueen would still be my friend." and "I'm all alone in here, and it's really scary." Ughhhh somebody, anybody, put us out of our misery, and put one right between his beady little rat bastard eyes.

I almost understand Tabitha's need to keep things professional, and speak to Bing, in a reassuring way that reaches his simple, monosyllabic mind. I get that beating the living hell out of him like he so obviously deserves isn't an option for her, but this man is a HEINOUS criminal, who's kidnapped kids, drugged and raped their mothers, KILLED both of his parents, not to mention TORTURED Charlie within an inch of his life, only just last week!!!! But by ALL MEANS, Vic, go HOLD HANDS WITH HIM, and see if that will help get your son back!!!! Cringe.

I HATED this, so, so, SO much!!! Bing was her friend, he betrayed her, violated the trust between them, became her worst nightmare, shot at her, traumatized her, duct-taping her to a chair, she should HATE him, despise the sight of him far more than Charlie Manx!!! I CRAVED a reckoning, even if it was just a verbal assault. But no, instead, Vic decides to play nice, and I get that most of it was an act to convince him to help her get her son back, but I could also feel NOS4A2's misguided hand in her actions. Look, see, even Vic can find the good in Bing!!!! Sigh. Not gonna lie, I was going to scream bloody murder if she said she forgives him!!!

Good Cop pays off, however, and Bing, desperate for Vic's forgiveness, reveals there is one more stop before Christmasland, one last chance to grab Wayne, when he gets out of the Wraith at Sleigh House to hang his ornament. It's a dawning revelation, intel quintessential to their success, and for once they know where Charlie is going to be, before he gets there, and can lay a trap for him and his indestructible car. I hate the way they arrived at the information though, I'd have much preferred to see Bing suffer for his sins, and the whole interaction is just so laughably implausible. I will say this however, there was a rather BEAUTIFUL line in this scene that Bing couldn't begin to deserve, but I LOVED it all the same. "I miss the person I thought you were." My god, that's powerful.

"Chris McQueen," is a STELLAR episode, full of beautiful lines like this, including my FAVOURITE thing that Maggie has EVER said to Vic, which perfectly exemplifies their eccentric friendship!!! "I'd shank a thousand assholes for your mopey ass!!!" YES!!! I LOVE THAT SO MUCH!!! I will say though, that I was SHOCKED at how cool Vic was with Maggie's scary new trick of hurting herself to use her powers, sans seizures. I thought she was going to kick her butt for that!!! I'm really worried, Guys, this is a dangerous addiction, that's going to be the hardest one yet for Mags to quit!!! The break-up with Tabitha was bittersweet, but it did not come as a shock to me. They'd been drifting apart for awhile now, and I feel like Maggie was so scared of losing her, that she was afraid to be herself. "I want to live in the real world all the time." For me, that was the nail in the coffin, having only heard it about a thousand times myself. Maggie will always be living in two worlds, and whoever she's with MUST accept that. They love each other, yes, but they just want different things. I do respect Tabitha so much for not demanding that Maggie give up her tiles, threatening to leave her if she didn't. She'd rather let Maggie go be herself, be happy, than try to stifle her, shove her into that hateful, constricting little box called normal.

Vic continues to be petty, and spiteful towards her father, treating him WAY too harshly, punishing him, when he's done nothing but fight for her, a literal action HERO, avenging Wayne, and kicking ASS!!! It hurt my soul, and I could see the pain in his eyes, thinking he'd failed her, apologizing again, just wanting her forgiveness. The second scene at the McQueen house is a far less fuzzy one, as she forbids her father to come with her, placing all the blame of every bad thing that's happened thus far on his shoulders, and she cuts him with razor edged words, saying the worst thing that she could have possibly said in that moment, something truly unforgivable, that I already know she will spend the rest of her life, regretting.

"I lived eight years of my life without you, Dad, and I can just as easily do it again." She sneers, and even Linda stares, aghast. "Vicki, no, you don't mean that!!!"

I felt the pangs in my heart, stunned that she could be that vicious to her own father, after all he's done for her, getting sober, changing his whole life, hell, getting HER sober!!! Linda is again so adorable, insisting she take Chris with her, like "Vicki let your father play on your magical bridge, if he wants!!!" not wanting him to feel left out, and while I want more father/daughter explosive awesomeness, I'm conflicted whether or not he should go. If he stays here...... he's safe. Eventually Linda's persuasion wins out. "Don't let your anger towards your father, keep you from getting back Wayne." With a frustrated sigh, Vic shoves a black helmet in Chris' hands, and we're off to the races again. "Bring them home," Linda whispers sweetly, embracing him tight, and as they hug, I get the most sinking feeling that it's for the last time. Dont...... Don't kill, Chris Mcqueen.

Vic and Chris work in silence, once they get to the charred foundation of Sleigh House in Colorado, burying the handmade bombs, and finally Chris can't take it anymore. "Is this how you want it, Brat?" He asks her, heartbroken, and Ashleigh's acting is PHENOMENAL, as she breaks down and reveals the truth behind her unprovoked animosity.

"It's easier to be mad at you, than to blame myself."

"None of this is your fault. Charlie Manx is not your fault."

"I want to forgive you, because if I don't, how can Wayne ever forgive me. But I can't just let myself off the hook!!!"

It's not entirely a make-up, but it's an important conversation, something she's been wrestling with for a long time. Chris is again AMAZING, consoling her, easing her guilt, even while she's the one that's been impossible. Again Vic, I love you, but your father did the absolute RIGHT thing, and he's the only one that did right by Bing, as far as I'm concerned.

Maggie and Lou join the dynamite father/daughter duo in Colorado, and I LOVED all of their scenes together, the two people in this world that Vic McQueen loves most, and there's something magical about it, something iconic, seeing all three of them together, the Creative Dream Team, united in their crusade against Charlie Manx.

"Every one of these ornaments represents a kid in Christmasland, lost forever. Do you think there's a way to get them back? The other kids?"

WHEN SOULS FALL.

Maggie stares down, perplexed at the tiles, as she arranges them, revealing to the oracle this cryptic, mysticism, and I myself, could NOT breathe. Holy SMASH. Ever since the end of, "Gunbarrel," where Vic wanders through the trees outside Sleigh House, frowning at them, the hundreds of glittering ornaments, swaying in the wind, glowing as she drew near, I just knew...... I KNEW the souls of the Lost Children, were trapped inside each and every one of them, and this suspicion was ever further confirmed, when she found Bradley's canoe ornament, broken open on the ground, after he burnt up in the Wraith. My prediction? To turn the kids back, they have to smash every single one of these ornaments, and only then can the escaped souls return to their vampire shells, and make them human again. The minute a child hangs an ornament, the transformation is complete.

I also LOVED the transcendent scene between Vic and Millie, a scared little girl, in over her head, calling, pleading through the static, and I couldn't help but MARVEL at how much has changed between them. Last Season Millie Manx was very much her father's daughter, cruelly taunting Vic, on her father's behalf, even appearing to her while she was awake, stabbing her with an invisible sword. Now, she calls out to her to be her saviour, her father's greatest enemy, the iron wrought armour of her inherited hatred falling away, and Vic sees her as she always was, not a hollowed out demon spawn, but just a frightened little girl that needs to be set free. I was also THRILLED that dear little Millie imparted the knowledge that Charlie CANNOT die, else all the children, including his daughter, will die with him. Vic abhors Charlie with a screaming vengeance, but now that she knows his death comes at the cost of every child he's ever taken, she won't kill him, she CAN'T kill him, because then all of this, everything she's fought so hard for, bled for, would be for nothing.

The final act is both the thrilling BEST and the incoherent WORST of the episode, as the chaotic music ominously heralds our man's arrival. Charlie Manx, cutting a dashing, imposing silhouette, dark against the hazy dusk, exits the Wraith, turning every which way, striking in profile, floating smoothly across the front of the car, to let Wayne out. I loved this aesthetic, Charlie moving swiftly through the mist and dying light, rising as the threatened dark, enclosing. It's beautiful, and serves two clever purposes. One, to shroud our debonair dark menace in all the more intrigue and mystery, and the other, to conceal just how bad Wayne's gotten. Charlie clasps his hands around Wayne's shoulders lovingly, the picture of paternal pride, and my heart caught, seeing Wayne in the cast light, his boyish curls, frayed and almost white, his skin covered in white blue veins, every one of his teeth, coming to a sharp point.

"Go on, My Boy, it's time to hang your ornament," Charlie chortles handing Wayne the CUTEST little gray, baby bat ornament, I have ever seen, urging him forward. "Choose any branch you like, just make sure it's a SPECIAL branch," Charlie crows, and my heart melts, so in love with both of them, and the way Charlie dotes on him, knowing that while this began as a revenge plot, Charlie has come to love and favour Wayne, like the son he never had. "Don't dilly dally," He warns adorably, with an eyebrow raise, and even this mild scold is too precious for words.

Charlie waits by the Wraith, already nervous, as little Wayne disappears into the grove of trees. I LOVED the Wraith's ADORABLE warning system, as it flashes danger, the car horn honking, and even more I loved Charlie's distressed reaction to it, hurrying over, brow knit, like a father racing to tend to and protect his frightened child. Can I just have this impossibly PERFECT man, that darling little curly-haired boy, and this pretty, shiny car, PLEASE!?!?

"Smart Car," I whisper to myself, as the Wraith senses Vic's presence, and the waiting bombs beneath the ground. Charlie, alarmed, jumps back into his car, to seek out what's got the Wraith in such a tizzy, racing away, and leaving young Wayne behind. If there was ever a time, to save Wayne, it is NOW!!! NOW, Maggie, grab him NOW!!!! Here's where things start to unravel for me as far as character motivation and realistic ability is concerned. Yes, I get that Wayne's appearance is terrifying for her, that she doesn't know what she's walking into as she approaches him, but there is NO WAY Margaret Leigh, Oracle Extraordinaire, Hourglass SLAYER, would just cower, and watch as Wayne hangs his ornament. Nope, sorry. Wayne isn't even all the way a vampire yet, he's in transition, and the FEARLESS girl that I know and love, would have grabbed him, reassured him, while she wrested the ornament from his hands, and SMASHED it!!! Wayne's soul flies back into his body, crying as he clings to his Aunt Mags, Charlie is thwarted, and everybody lives happily ever after. End Scene.

But no, Maggie, in an uncharacteristic move, waits until Wayne has ALREADY hung his ornament, and then approaches him fearfully. I will admit I was a little nervous too..... Wayne, Darling, NO BITING Aunt Maggie!!! Wayne bares his vampire teeth, and raises his vampire claws in an adorable scare, with the cutest little growl ever, laughing cheerfully as he chases Maggie through the trees, clearly thinking it's a game.

Meanwhile, Charlie bristles as he sees the glowing headlights of Vic's motorcycle up ahead, piercing through the descended dark. His annoyance is obvious, but you can almost sense his secret excitement, at having one last chance to kill her.

"Gunning for Mother of the Year?" Charlie scoffs, amused, looking hot as hell behind the Wraith, clenching the steering wheel, his head down, eyes narrowed and full of smouldering, black intent. It's a FANTASTIC face-off, as the Wraith screams down into the open field, Chris pressing HARD on the detonator, and the first bomb goes off in a spray of dirt and billowing smoke. Again here's where I found myself more than a little bit incredulous, wondering WHAT THE HELL IS THE WRAITH MADE OF!?!? I even giggled to myself, remembering what Chris had said. "I don't care if he's in a GOD DAMNED tank!!!" The Wraith remains unscathed, the gleaming black paint, not so much as scratched, as a second bomb, and then a third go off beneath it, to no detriment. Really!? The Wraith is NOT a tank, it's not even armoured, and while yes, it's a supernatural entity, it CANNOT DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!!! Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so don't want to see you harmed, but you put a blast beneath that undercarriage, it is going to send that car FLYING, flipping it over at the very least!!!

Back in the grove of trees, Wayne, still chasing Maggie, stops cold when Lou calls out to him.

"Dad..... is that you?" THANK GOD, I cry out tearfully, as Wayne recognizes him, and in a very human moment, runs and hugs his father so tight, snuggling his little head to his shoulder, Lou sighing relieved, as he holds his son at last. Happy tears become angry ones, however, and at first I was LIVID with Wayne, horrified as he sinks his tiny little fangs into Lou's shoulder, biting him hard. DON'T BITE YOUR FATHER!!!!! Why, Wayne, WHY!? But the second time I watched this episode, I noticed something soooo very important. Wayne doesn't show any signs of hostility, poses NO threat, UNTIL the first bomb goes off. This is NO coincidence. Charlie, you're too clever for your own good!!! I suspect, that once the transformation is complete, and the kids are connected to Father Christmas, they can sense when he's in danger, and their innate attack instinct takes over!!! Freaking brilliant, and yet also terrifying!!!

Vic curses under her breath, her foot slamming on the gas, helplessly, as the Triumph won't start, her knife failing her, as the Wraith, screams at her like a shot bullet, promising vengeance, and Charlie smirks, sadistic, knowing he's about to end this....... "Say Goodnight, Vic McQueen."

My heart clenches in my chest, barely breathing, the tears flooding my vision, watching through blurry eyes, knowing what he's going to do, before he even does it. Chris McQueen hurtles himself in front of Vic, selflessly sacrificing his life for hers, and the Wraith runs him over, crushing the back of his legs. as he collides with it. I screamed, I sobbed, and shook violently, stunned because my prayers had been answered....... Chris McQueen, has miraculously SURVIVED. He's alive...... he's alive...... I whisper, reassuring myself. While he's far from okay, surely suffering two crushed legs, unable to move, I'm just so happy to see him still breathing, still fighting.

"Perfect timing, Wayne," Charlie snickers, Vic screaming, "NO!" as Wayne hops back into the car. This is it, this is the moment, where it all goes so wrong. Charlie's holding all the cards, he's got Wayne in the car, he's subdued Vic and her father, neither of them can so much as move, and he listens, drinking in their anguished cries. All he had to do was drive away....... It was over. It was SUPPOSED to be over.

"Chris McQueen, a disappointment of a man, just like your father," Charles snarls, and I AM BEGGING him to stop, bawling, pleading frantic, my terrified voice shrill. "BABY NO!!!! BABY STOP!!! DON'T KILL CHRIS, PLEASE GOD, CHARLIE!!!!!" Tapping into a darkness, donning a heartlessness, unbecoming of our gentleman villain, Charlie looks Vic in the eye, as he does it, snapping Chris' neck with lethal force, killing him purely out of spite. The episode ends with her broken, mournful sob, and Chris' slain gaze, his eyes still full of tears, staring blankly at the camera.

My pain is deafening, my sorrow beyond all hope of any coherent expression as NOS4A2 suffers its greatest loss to date. It's an empty gesture, a callous act, uncharacteristic of the man that I love with all my heart, but who has hurt me something profound with this senseless murder. In what kind of CRUEL world, does an innocent man, who sacrifices himself for his daughter, who fought for eight years to be the kind of father she deserved, have to die, while an indecent evil like Bing Partridge gets to live!? Charlie, HOW could you!? This...... There's no honour in this. Charlie kills only as a last resort, and only in defense, he has a strict moral code, and is vehemently against violence without cause. This was unfeeling, unnecessary, and soulless. Yes, he knew Chris was a bad father from before, but surely in witnessing the valiant manner in which he'd flung himself in front of the car, with no thought for his own life, Charlie would have found him redeemed, he would have seen a father who'd do anything to protect his daughter, not so different from himself, and he would have felt SOMETHING!!!

Goodnight, Chris McQueen. You fought the good fight, you changed and made things right, and now at last you can find peace....... My heart is so heavy, I can't hold it, and crying here, I want him to know how wrong he was, thinking nobody would mourn him when he died. A thousand cry out, stricken with grief. Husband, Father, White Knight Redeemed, here lies Chris McQueen, a HERO who didn't die for nothing.........

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