#Charlie always had this impact on me. i have voiced it a lot: he is the best and i love him very much and i will always trust him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

look-at-the-soul · 11 months ago

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Always with me

(Modern)Tommy Shelby x reader (+Grandma) 👵🏻

Hello beautiful people! Hoping you’re doing well 💞 It took me so long to finish this little story because for some reason I kept thinking it needed something else but couldn’t find what it was, then one day I thought this is it, don’t force it, the main point it’s there… sometimes less is more or so they say. Either way, I hope you like this!

Just to let you know this is part of a series of stories (not linked between them) about my Grandma’s series to honor one of the persons who had the biggest impact in my life and I recently lost. This is a small tribute and a way to cope with her not being around anymore.

Grief and sadness is mentioned but as usual I compensate with fluff and happiness ❤️‍🩹 thank you for your endless support, it means so much.

Word count: 3,602

✨ Inspired by Westlife song “Always with me”

They say that time can heal a broken heart

But I just don't know how this could be true

Everyday I see a picture on my wall

My heart is broken into two

Tommy poured two glasses of wine and headed to the couch, next to his girlfriend. She had been staring absently at the fire flames flicking before her eyes, she didn’t even notice when Frances asked if they wanted something for dinner. But he already knew the answer, it was one of those moments when Y/N’s mind wandered back in time to some memory with her grandmother.

Her energy felt so low, the sadness in her eyes made him feel hopeless, and with the holidays around the corner he knew it wouldn’t help to lift her up, as he knew the days meant so much for her. If only he could find a way to make her focus on something else, a distraction.

His eyes fixed on her features as she brought the glass to her mouth.

“You’re wearing lipstick.�� He noticed a subtle tone.

A ridiculous suggestion he made when Y/N asked how to get back on track. Try to focus in small things, the finest details you used to do without even thinking about it. Like using your favorite lipstick, he had said back then.

The glimpse of a smile formed on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, so taking both glasses he placed them on the table to then pass an arm behind Y/N’s neck to bring her closer.

“I know it’s not been easy for you, but take your time to heal… it’s okay to not being okay.”

His fingers massaged gently her scalp and Tommy felt Y/N relaxing against him, really allowing him to hold her, not just physically.

“I miss her.” Her voice cracked at the end, and felt Tommy’s hands hugging her tighter.

“I know, love. I miss her too, but you know what? I just noticed you’ve got so many mannerisms like her.”

Y/N’s head moved back to give him a confused look.

“You do, just as you were sipping coffee this morning, the way you hugged Charlie it made me remember every time we visited your grandma and she hugged you.”

“You think so?” Surprise washed over her.

Tommy nodded.

“You’ve got lots of things from her, both physically and internally.” He brushed a rebel lock away from her face and looked at her with adoring eyes. “I realized you look so much alike in this photo.”

Fishing his phone in his pocket, Tommy searched for the image he was looking for, a candid image he snapped from Y/N when she wasn’t looking.

“You never told me you took this.” She was surprised by how much she looked like her grandmother indeed.

“If you put them side by side, it’ll be more obvious.” A genuine smile appeared on his lips.

“It’s lovely, thanks. I’ll make a collage.” Y/N leaned in to brush her lips against his. “Do you mind if I go to sleep? I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll join you in a minute, just want to check Charlie.”

“My God, he must be so confused for not having the Christmas tree yet.” Worry was evident in her voice.

“Don’t worry about it baby, I’ll take care of it.” He then joined her in the middle of the hall to give Y/N one more reassuring kiss. Making sure she was upstairs, he called Frances. “Would you help me pack a small suitcase for Charlie and another one for Y/N, leave them by the door so the driver can place them in the back of the car.”

“Of course Mr. Shelby.” The maid nodded.

“Oh and Frances? Make sure to pack yours as well, I need you to look after Charlie.”

Leaving the maid perplexed, Tommy went upstairs.

***

“Since Charlie isn’t cooperating, Frances would you explain why all this mystery?”

Charlie grinned and gave Frances one long and expectant look.

“I’m afraid I don’t know madam.”

Y/N tried getting Tommy to talk, but it was useless. Suddenly he was more interested in the sky than in the interrogation she was making.

“Wow, look at that plane!” Charlie pointed out.

It was until then that Y/N realized of where they were going. The airport.

“Tommy.”

One look and she knew.

“Tom-”

“Just relax, okay?” He interrupted. “For once. All you need to do is get on that plane.”

“Can I ask…?”

“Nope.” He perched his signature Ray Bans against his nose and offered his hand so Y/N could get out of the car.

“Let’s go!” Charlie shouted, leaving them behind.

“Frances?” Y/N tried again.

“Oh Miss Y/LN I know the same thing as you.”

The crew of the private plane greeted them and offered drinks and breakfast, and Y/N still didn’t know the destination. She was worried not being able to take control over the smallest thing, because Tommy was taking care of absolutely everything.

“Fine.” She mumbled leaning against the window.

“Finally! Now we can start our little holiday.” Tommy squeezed her hand. “I know you didn’t feel like celebrating for what it means this time without your grandmother, but Y/N, she would wanted you to smile and be happy.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Wherever you choose to celebrate or not, your grandma will be right with you, in your heart.”

“I know, but it’s not the same without her.”

Tommy wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye tenderly.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to spend this Christmas sitting on the couch crying.”

He wanted to compensate for her sadness. And although nothing would her back what she wanted the most, he could try to make her happy. He was right, and the effort meant more than she could express, so with a sigh she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Dad! Look!” Charlie’s nose was glued to the window. Frances looking over his shoulder.

That’s when Y/N realized….

“Paris?”

“We’ll always have Paris.” Tommy whispered.

Y/N wasn’t able to hold back the tears any longer.

She knew when she was around six years old, her grandma took her to Paris to visit some family, but the memories were blurred in her mind. Through her grandmother’s eyes she had been able to know some parts of their adventure together. A few photographs but that was pretty much all.

Either way, she felt a special connection to the place and that quote was something her grandmother constantly said, as it was one of greatest experiences she had with Y/N. And they both treasured it close to their hearts.

“It’s time to make our own memories.” Tommy’s voice made her go back into reality. “What do you say?”

She wanted to ask him a million questions, but decided to just let everything flow. In the end he really took care of everything, prepared even the smallest detail of their trip and gave her that reassuring smile that let her know everything would be alright.

As they stepped outside the airport, snow welcomed them, everything was covered in a white layer. But it only added an even more beautiful vibe to their trip.

“I love you, you know that?” Y/N closed her hands around his neck and pulled Tommy for a brief kiss while Frances and Charlie took their seats in the vehicle.

“I do.” He gave another one back. “And I love you too.”

“This is beautiful.” Y/N beamed as they rode through the Parisian streets.

“Actually… shall we stop?” Tommy proposed, while Y/N gave him a confused look. “It’s fine, Frances will make sure the bags are checked in and we’ll go back in a bit.”

Making sure Charlie had the scarf around his neck, Y/N covered her hands with her gloves, while Tommy’s hand wrapped around the small of her back as they strolled around.

“Dad I want to go the carrousel!” Charlie announced excitedly. With his father’s approval, the kid stormed towards the attraction impatiently.

“Bet you were just like that.” Y/N mumbled to herself but loud enough for Tommy to throw his head back and laugh.

“Guess you could say that.”

“Look! Just like Winter!” Charlie pointed at the white horse figure, thinking of their horse back home.

“Just like her huh? Think you can handle this one?”

“Of course, it’s a fake.” Charlie retorted making Y/N smile.

Paying for Charlie’s ticket, they stepped aside to see him riding.

Using her phone, Y/N captured a candid photo of Charlie waving at them, a big smile on his small face.

“What is it?”

“Nothin’ just wish Ruby could be here as well.” Tommy cleared his throat and pretended to be busy with a cigarette.

Y/N knew deep down that fearless man was a sweet man with a good heart who cared deeply of his people.

“I’m sure you’ll reach an agreement with Lizzie later on, she’s still a one year old girl.” Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder to comfort him.

“It’s hard to believe she’ll let me anywhere near Ruby.”

“You’re her father, you’ve the right to see her.”

These holidays had been hard for him as well.

“You know what? I don’t want to talk about anything that might ruin this, you, Charlie, me right here it’s all that matters.” He stated before taking a deep puff of smoke.

“Thank you, for cheering me up.” Stepping in front of him, Y/N captured his lips in a kiss full of gratitude.

“Careful, you might get us arrested and only one of us knows French.” Tommy joked with a sparkle in his eyes. His hands sneaking under her coat.

“I see why you brought Frances then.”

“I always have a plan.” He winked at her.

She could feel a thousand butterflies in her stomach by the way he smiled. “Santa said you’ve been a good girl.”

Y/N blushed. “Oh… and what about you mister?”

“Nah… I’m the bad boy your grandmother warned you about.” Another wink by him and she produced another smile as Charlie ran towards them. “But what you gonna do about it? It’s kind of late now to back down.” He added jokingly.

“She loved you too.” Bending down, Y/N asked Charlie if he enjoyed the ride. “Who wants some hot chocolate?”

“Me! Me! Me!” Charlie shouted.

Tommy groaned. “If you find the button to turn him off let me know.”

“You’re so mean, as if I did the same to you.”

“No, Y/N you turn me on.” Tommy admitted just before Y/N moved her hand to cover his mouth, he was taking advantage of Charlie’s innocence and the mischievous grin on his face gave him away.

Sipping on her hot chocolate cup, Y/N allowed a small glimpse of happiness, it was a beautiful place, the Christmas decoration providing a gorgeous sighting, everyone oozing happiness. The snowy weather made the sighting look out of a Christmas postal.

She was torn between enjoying her favorite season and the grief she carried in her heart. It was her first holidays without her grandmother and her empty chair was definitely evident. She was at a much better place now, no doubt but her absence felt heavy in Y/N’s heart.

Grief is just all the love with no place to go after all.

Noticing the sadness in her eyes, Tommy stopped at a stand, looking for the ornaments they had to decorate the Christmas tree.

“Are you looking for something special?” The man asked.

“Yes… a house ornament.” Tommy replied, feeling Y/N’s eyes on him. “Do you guys want something?”

“A reindeer!” Charlie’s eyes shining.

Y/N took her time studying the ornaments, until one caught her attention.

Following her eyes, Tommy had to swallow the lump in his throat. I have an Angel in heaven, called Grandma. It read. It was the one.

Kissing her temple, Tommy offered his embrace as they waited to get their decorations.

“Dad why did you choose the house?” Charlie asked with curiosity.

Getting a cab for them, he looked at his son. “I’ll tell you later about it.”

Y/N looked the exchange in silence, but also wondering the meaning behind his choice. She’s expect him to choose something with a dark humor behind instead.

“Look Charlie, the Eiffel Tower’s lights are flicking again.” Y/N pointed as they drove in the opposite direction, back to their hotel.

“Okay this is the plan, Charlie you’re heading to bed the second we step into the hotel, no questions. Tomorrow we’re having breakfast and then we’re going to a flea market.”

“Tommy…” Y/N gasped.

“What? You always said you wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and a flea market in that same order.”

“I know, but how do you remember?”

Scoffing, Tommy gave her the look. “Sweetheart, I pay attention.”

“Only thing that sucks is Santa doesn’t know I’m here.” Charlie complained once in front of their door.

With a smile, Tommy opened the door for them, making them both gasp loudly as they saw the huge Christmas tree in the middle, fully decorated with presents wrapped all around.

“Well I might have informed him we would be traveling and changed the address.” He admitted pleased with himself. He wanted them to have the nicest possible holiday. “Why don’t we add our ornaments?”

Tommy took her by surprise, not only for the trip, but for the tree as well, she thought about sneaking around the shops of the hotel to buy Charlie something thinking he wouldn’t get anything, but Tommy thought of everything.

“This is beautiful, thank you.” Y/N wrapped her arms around his torso, feeling so grateful to have him in her life.

“Presents are meant to be open until tomorrow morning though.”

“But Daaad.”

“No buts, off to bed.”

Pouting, Charlie walked towards Y/N. “Goodnight Y/N Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Charlie, have a good night.” She hugged the boy and kissed the top of his head.

“Night Dad.” He then said. “Merry Christmas.”

“See you tomorrow son, Merry Christmas.”

Watching him disappear, Tommy took Y/N by the hand.

“Want to know why I chose the house?”

“Absolutely.” She brushed the fringe from his forehead with her fingers.

“Because that’s my only wish this Christmas… to build a home with you, Y/N. A proper house; our own title team, we’ve talked about the future, well it’s finally here, in this moment. You made me realize of what I truly want, what I dream of.” Getting on one knee, Tommy showed her an old jewelry box. “I know you miss your grandma terribly and no one will ever fill her place in your heart, but in some way, she found a way to show you she’ll always be right next to you, she gave me this ring, she wanted you to have it and be as happy as she was during her marriage. Will you marry me?”

He looked at her with tears in his eyes, fighting to say the words as emotions took over.

“Tommy…” bending down she kissed him. “Wait a second, this is her engagement ring?”

Taking the delicate piece from the box, he smiled proudly.

“Before she passed away, she gave it to me to propose you with her ring.”

Her head was spinning, her heart drumming against her ribs.

“She did what? When?” Shock was written all over her face.

“Can you please say yes first? So I can get up.” He groaned.

“Yes of course!” She kissed him again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“When we took her to the clinic, as you were asked to fill the papers with her information, the nurse just left,” he explained as the memories of that day came back to him, “she asked me if I really loved you, to which the answer is pretty obvious. Then she asked me in case something happened to her to go to her house and open the safe to get her engagement ring and keep it until it was the right time to give it to you, she wanted you to have it as she knew how much you’d miss her.”

Y/N sobbed as Tommy’s voice cracked.

“She said to me make her even happier than I was, and the day she walks down the aisle, I’ll be right by her side.”

“I thought it was lost or stolen, as I went through her belongings.” Y/N wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“She wanted you to have it, with a different meaning.”

“It’s the most perfect ring I’ve ever seen.” She looked down at her left hand, the stone shining under the chandelier.

“Just Iike you’re to me.” He pulled his now fiancé for a hug. “She wanted you to be happy, to live life to the fullest. Said you were her favorite grandchild.”

Her lower lip trembled just as his hands came to rest at each side of her head.

“Just don’t let anyone else listen.” They said in unison to what Y/N’s grandma used to confess.

“I know you lost a huge part of yourself when she left. But you have to know that you were right beside her through everything, you enjoyed her in every moment, every visit, dinner and chance you had, you took care of her until her very last breath, and no one can take that away from you. Find peace in that. You loved her as much as she loved you.”

Tommy caressed her face with his thumbs.

“Now you have to keep that promise, and be happy. For her. For us.”

Y/N could only nod. Words were stuck in her throat.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Y/N expressed in a whisper, staring at her grandmother’s engagement ring.

“We’re getting married.” Tommy assured her, thumbs caressing her cheeks. “Eh? Soon to be Mrs. Shelby.”

Y/N blushed. “That sounds promising.”

Taking her by surprise, Tommy grabbed her from the waist to spin her around, making Y/N gasp and hold onto him tightly.

Trying to hold back the tears, Y/N hugged Tommy closing her eyes for an instant.

“What’s crossing your mind?” He asked.

And for the first time in a while, he saw the way the smile reached Y/N’s eyes.

“Thinking how grandma will always be with me.”

****

As usual your feedback means the world to me ♥️✨

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watchmenanon · 2 years ago

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A chat with Noah Schnapp, the 11-year-old Montrealer who voices Charlie Brown in The Peanuts Movie

'I listened to as much as I could find online to get the voice right. Winning the role took a lot of hard work'

Special to National Post

Published Nov 06, 2015

Noah Schnapp, the 11-year-old actor, son of former Montrealers Karine and Mitchell Schnapp, was selected to provide the pipes for the ever-flappable Charlie Brown in The Peanuts Movie after an extensive hunt. For good reason: his take is dead-on. It turns out that wasn’t accidental.

“In preparing for my recording audition, my mom told me to YouTube the old Peanuts Thanksgiving and Christmas specials to hear how Charlie Brown speaks,” the articulate Schnapp says in a phone interview from his family’s New York City base. “So I listened to as much as I could find online to get the voice right. Winning the role took a lot of hard work, but good fortune as well. There were a lot of other talented kids up for the part, too.”

After studying the character, Schnapp says, he can relate to Charlie Brown in a lot of ways. “Charlie never gives up, and I try never to give up either. And my dog Spaghetti is a bit like Snoopy — a real wise guy.”

Schnapp already has an impressive resumé — moviegoers can catch him in Steven Spielberg’s new Bridge of Spies, and will soon be able to see him in the indie feature, We Only Know So Much, based on the book of the same title.

He is commuting between New York and Atlanta, where he is in the midst of shooting Stranger Things, a supernatural thriller series for Netflix.

And he spent a portion of last spring in Park City, Utah, where he took part in the Sundance Directors Lab and played the lead in director Brent Green’s Untitled Loveless Fable. No surprise, Schnapp was the youngest person invited to the event, which was also attended by such heavies as Robert Redford and Ed Harris.

To top it all off, he was just listed in Variety’s Youth Impact Report as a rising star under 21 to watch out for.

Pretty heady stuff for a kid who only started acting in community theatre three years ago.

Schnapp plays the son of Tom Hanks’s negotiator character in Bridge of Spies, and is most convincing as a kid who’s concerned about a Soviet nuclear retaliation at the height of the Cold War. He dutifully learns the ludicrous duck-and-cover technique should a missile strike while he’s at school, and keeps his bathtub full of water should it strike while he’s at home.

“I have to be honest and admit that before I started working on that project, I actually didn’t know much about that period or who they (Hanks and Spielberg), were,” Schnapp says. “But you have to understand that I was only nine at the time.

“However, when we started pre-production, I watched most of their movies. Then I went: ‘Wow!’ I hadn’t realized how big and how important they were.”

He was particularly struck by Hanks’s manner.

“He’s just such a selfless, generous actor,” Schnapp marvels. “In most of his movies, he’s usually playing the hero and good guy, which is what he really is. He would always be holding on to my shoulder (during shooting), and putting me into the spotlight. And not just me — he was always trying to make everyone else shine, too. It was really such a great experience working with him and Steven Spielberg.”

Schnapp is nothing if not determined. Because of his lack of experience, he figured he was a long shot to land the roles in The Peanuts Movie and Bridge of Spies.

“It was kind of crazy — those were some of my first auditions,” he recalls. “I was very excited, but I didn’t really think I could get the work in Peanuts. Still, I really, really wanted it, because I knew I could do it. And I got it.

“It was the same thing for Bridge of Spies. It was crazy, too. Then I just started getting more and more roles.”

Apart from Hanks, he’s had some solid parental figures watching his back when he’s on the job. In We Only Know So Much, Jeanne Tripplehorn plays his mom, while Winona Ryder takes on that role in Stranger Things.

The Sundance Directors Lab was a great learning experience. “There were about 200 directors, actors and screenwriters. I learned that it was OK to experiment with scenes and improvise new lines. We were like a big family — everyone became my friend.”

Though he didn’t start acting until he was eight, Schnapp says he caught the bug two years earlier.

“After I saw Annie on Broadway, I came out of the show crying, because I wanted to be on that stage. Then when I watched TV, I just knew I wanted to be that person in the TV, too.”

#noah schnapp #byler #<target audience

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mostsanegirlever · 7 months ago

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Hi :)

I’m writing this as a direct response to whatever the hell went on yesterday. Before I directly offer my counterpoints I just wanna make some things clear:

1. English is not my first language and I don’t use any proper translation app for revision. I use a lot of adverbs because that’s how I express myself in my mother language. The punctuation also goes with how I use it in Portuguese.

2. I’m not offended on Chan's behalf, I’m just extremely passionate about debating (both online and irl), especially when I think others are objectively wrong.

3. I’m not only pro boycotting this single, but I also pray every night that it never sees the light of day.

I’ve been against this collab and voiced my distaste as soon as I was made aware of its existence. At first it wasn’t because of Charlie Puth’s “opinions” on the Genocide being conducted against Palestinians in their occupied mother land (I actually had no idea where he stood since I have him blocked everywhere for being annoying, ugly and untalented), but getting to know that he’s an actual Zionist was the final straw for me, and I won’t be listening to it at all. That’s where I personally stand and I’m not known for changing my mind.

As soon as the news dropped, I took this feature for what it is: a chart gambling move by Republic Records (Stray Kids’ American distributor and promoter). Releasing a soulless English single featuring a C-list American “artist” is basically a trend in K-pop nowadays, since it places the group in the charts fast enough before the actual comeback, has viral TikTok potential and extends by 2 the promotional period.

I never actually expected JYPE to follow suit with SKZ, as much as they have given other groups the tired and bland English pre-release. As I said, it was a no for me from the start because I don’t like nor do I listen to something that’s so shamelessly a marketing strategy made for an easy cash grab.

I expressed my opinion that it was a sell-out move that would taint SKZ’ original and cohesive discography.

As soon as the credits were posted, my first thought was that it was never SKZ’ song to begin with. In my opinion, it was very clear by the credits positioning that the song was made by Charlie and the other dude (who isn’t even like just a random Zionist but a full Israeli that has undoubtedly served the IOF) and the featuring was orchestrated in a reunion with people who see music as business and artists are decided by they capacity of making profit by charting.

Once again, I personally refuse to consume this type of slop, especially when it comes from people who openly align themselves with a genocidal ethno-state.

I’m aware that my decision to not listen to this song won’t have any impact on the decisions both companies will make for SKZ in the future, since the music industry isn’t known to take morals into consideration when it comes to easy profit.

I also keep my opinion that media consuming (or non-consuming) isn’t activism, and there’s a fine line between reasoning on why you chose to boycott and empty virtue signaling. The latter always comes with a huge deal of self-righteousness, which we’ve seen plenty of since yesterday.

My expectation was that everyone who agreed to boycott directed their indignation towards RR and JYPE, since it was obviously an administrative decision and this has no artistic value. MUCH TO MY SURPRISE! (not really, this always happens) Chan has been in the front-line for getting all the lashes.

No mention of the other members of 3RACHA, who were also “in the room with racists” and have the exact same amount of credits and creative liberty, no mention of RR who obviously was the one orchestrating the promotional single (as they did with that TXT song with Jonas Brothers, Usher feat. Jungkook and the list goes on).

Lots of people questioned this when they saw that tweet, with no concrete response by OP or the ones who backed her up on why he was solely being condemned and blamed for the collaboration.

After a while, many came to justify that directing the anger towards Chan is valid since he is “the leader”, “the oldest” and “the spokesperson” of the group. For me personally, it’s hard to understand why a group made out of fully adult cisgender able-bodied males would need a spokesperson when they’re perfectly capable of speaking up for themselves on instances like this, but it’s interesting to see him suddenly become the only one who can speak for the group considering many people were shading him for being the one who always gives the speeches earlier this week.

Although the main claim is that he has more power because of his position as leader, I don’t think anyone actually believes that. The blame falls strictly onto Chan every single time because he made the biggest mistake an artist can make: treat his fans as equal.

He established an open line of communication as he presented his own authentic self, showing his flaws and often putting himself down and accepting the blame as means of maybe alleviating the inhumane amount of hatred he’s been submitted to since he dared to share his passion with the most demonic industry with the biggest amount of brain-dead fan-girls.

This made Chris the main character of arguably the most intense parasocial relationship I’ve seen in years of fandom hopping.

The post that started the blame shift towards Chan referred to him by his full name (weird, but punctual since many seem to believe they know him personally) and goes on to say “I know that you’re reading these quotes” or something like that.

See what I mean? That struggling to fulfill obligations as an idol and cutting himself open to give the fandom unrestricted access to him for years only made them believe that that’s all he does? That he’s #oomf and they can just say anything and it’s part of his job to acknowledge it? That any problem is for him to solve individuality and every praise is meant to be shared?

This entire idea that Bang Chan is somehow different, more important and more impactful than his coworkers isn’t because of the leader title, it’s because of the close relatability due to his openness.

Chan deals with the producer role much as he did with his relationship with the fans: he’s always made it clear that 3RACHA has the same amount of power when it comes to the creative direction of the band. Changbin and Jisung always acted alike, never letting it seem that Chan is the one who calls the shots or takes on “the leader” role inside the producing unit.

This message has never seemed to reach the fandom for some reason and when it comes to highlight something negative it falls strictly on Chan to acknowledge it. His coworkers who are on the exact same level and have the exact same power are never expected to stand up for anything.

Many argue that it’s because Chan is a native speaker but it’s actually, again, because people have a parasocial relationship with him specifically, to a level the other producers never allowed.

That’s exactly the reason you can see here:

if you're like, okay yeah screw all those other people, but why are you blaming chan? niru @/the_kpopalypse on twitter wrote it very well:

"I think Chan is one part of a large team that made this happen. That being said, as a leader, as someone who has generally made it a point to communicate his views on anything that goes on in fandom or the world, and the one who has emphasized the social justice angle of skz's brand since day one...[he] is a grown man who can and should hear the truth."

The expectation doesn’t come from actually believing he’s the leader or the spokesperson, it comes from taking his openness and treating fans as equals, as exposing himself in a genuine way and continuing to attend to expectations in order to keep the crowd pleased and now it all falls on his shoulders, even though not for a minute has he claimed to have more creative freedom or power than any other member in the producer line.

The whole “because he is the leader” means nothing but “because I have higher expectations when it comes to him, because the close relatability made me think I have an open channel of communication and I can demand he attend to my expectations, because I know him on a personal level and he frustrated me”.

I don’t blame anyone for growing such a deep rooted parasocial relationship with him, Chan is indeed a charismatic leader, it’s the hypocrisy that I can’t stand. It’s clearly not his move to go on with this collaboration, and if you decide to critic him in hopes that he’ll see it somehow (as if he has nothing to do but sit around reading your demands and taking notes but once again this belief comes from this parasocial relationship where you guys are convinced he’s the one who’s always there and he’ll be a hero and make everything alright again), then Han Jisung and Seo Changbin, the other men who are credited the same amount, are just as capable of standing up for this.

The parasocial relationship this entire fandom has with Chan (that can be both for love and admiration or hatred and jealousy btw) comes with this huge amount of expectations for him but also for the infantilization of the other members.

Chan is the dad, the one who’s capable and dependable and calls the shots and the other 7 fully adult cis able-bodied millionaire males are just...there. They have no opinions, they have no responsibilities, they have no say.

They’re all 23+ in age and Chan being the oldest is hardly an excuse as to why he’s being pointed as the sole member who needs to take a stance since Minho is no more than a year younger than him.

These are grown men who have been legal voters for years already, and have been raised and socialized in a culturally conservative country. Chan being brave enough to talk about his own political and social views (not the group’s, since the text I’m replying to seemed put him in “skz” when it came to praising) should be a breath of fresh air but instead it only gave him more responsibility when it comes to “educating” the other members, somehow.

I am of the opinion that these expectations only fall on him because you think you know him on a personal level, whereas the others kept the fans at a safe distance from the beginning.

Singling someone out for being “the oldest'' doesn't fly. He speaks for himself only, not for everyone. If it’s about taking a stance, I need all of them to come forward individually and use their social status for what they believe. They aren’t alienated from the world and they have the same amount of free time Chan has, signed the same contracts and are just as grown and capable.

What happened yesterday with name dropping Chan exclusively was no more than people who cultivated a deep rooted parasocial relationship with him (easily noticeable since skz_8283 and the people backing her up are all +18 RPF writers) and seem to think that media consuming and tweeting is activism.

The doubling down on still pointing him out as the sole precursor instead of actually demonstrating their distaste towards the people who decided that this chart gamble would be real, or even at the very least expecting the same amount of responsibility from the other members was even more upsetting.

The anger towards this project is completely justified, but as long as you keep Chan in the middle of your rage it will also be completely misplaced. Chan doesn’t have a choice in this, redirect your demands towards the people who actually call the shots: Republic Records and JYPE/DIV1.

#mespeaking

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waugh-bao · 2 years ago

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@thebedroomblues I think Keith’s thing with the drum kit and staying centered on Charlie as much as humanly possible is maybe the best microcosm for understanding the band dynamic as a whole, or at least the dynamic between him and Charlie.

It all essentially arises from three avenues ->

1. The way they worked in the early years, and where they worked, forced Keith and Charlie into close physical proximity on stage, and Keith came to rely upon it as a way to be centered and a source of comfort.

Which are both aspects of that relationship he’s been very open about:

"I'm probably the most drummer-influenced guitar player around. Over the years, Charlie and I developed a style between us, and a lot of it has to do with the fact that for many, many years I couldn't hear us onstage at all. The chicks are screaming and the band has no P.A. So we developed a way of playing where it didn't matter if we heard the voice or the bass-it was just Charlie and me. I'd be forced right up against Charlie's kit with my amp right next to him. My playing would have been totally different if I hadn't gone through that with Charlie. I developed more and more of the rhythm things and licks because he was really all I was playing to."-1989

“When we're up there it's just like a little cocoon. I'm just with my man here [Charlie] and we make this row together.”-2006

2. Keith sees Charlie as the person who has had the most impact upon his playing and his particular, rhythm focused style. As his source of inspiration, really.

To the extent that he credits him with being his greatest strength:

“I'm tied to a drummer, Charlie Watts, loyal as a rock, and that's enough for me. It's with him that we've built an art of rhythm that's very much our own. Everything I've been able to invent over the years is based on this strength that he brings to me. We know each other so well that we can take every risk.”-2010

And the one who had given him his riffs, which are the basis of his musical character/his most famous skill as a guitar player:

“Also, when you play with Charlie Watts, you've got that amount of swing and rhythm behind you and it's very easy to surprise yourself. Because from my point of view I'm bouncing off Charlie Watts, we're both swapping rhythms, cutting it up, and when we get really cocky we even try and fuck each other up. ‘Aha! Got you, just this once!' You can't do it on your own in an isolated thing. To come up with those sort of riffs you've got to have the drums there, 'cos that's the inspiration. So what do I say? 'Monkey Man', the riff, I got it off Charlie Watts and he doesn't even know it.”-2002

3. He just really loves watching Charlie.

The man literally begged Marty Scorsese to include footage from inside Charlie’s bass drum in Shine A Light:

And he has zero problem bragging about how much he enjoys doing it, nor any hesitance in admitting that that’s how he spends most of his time working:

“He plays with humor too. I love to watch his foot through the Perspex. Even if I can't hear him, I can play to him just by watching.”-Life (2010)

“I've spent half of my life standing just in front of that drum kit…”-2002

“Charlie is the beat I listen to when I play the guitar. His drum pedal kick hole [in the drum kit] is the only thing I see when I'm on stage. He is the only beat."-2012

Watching him, it’s easy to see he’s not exaggerating:

Nor is it hard to see that he’d get a little (or a lot, depending upon who was doing it) violent when someone tried to interrupt his Charlie time:

With regards to Mick often trying to stop him from doing it/redirect him, my educated guess is that it arises from a fundamental difference in how they value the aspects of a ‘great’ rock show. Keith is all about the music first and aesthetics second. That’s why he was always happy to concede stage design and all that stuff to Mick and Charlie, and only insist that it didn’t interfere in their ability to sound as good as possible.

Whereas Mick, while he obviously believes the music is important, is much more focused on the showmanship and business aspect of tours and shows. He wants them to be musically solid and visually entertaining, so that the audience feels that they’ve gotten their money’s worth. So having the famous guitarist in the band show the audience his back for most of a concert, rather than play to them, is a problem.

Plus Keith has a tendency to get carried away (to put it lightly) when he’s left to his own devices with Charlie for too long, and make decisions that might comes across as…odd.

I mean, he bit him.

"I was shooting Charlie from the side of the stage at the Müngersdorfer Stadium in Cologne [in 1982] when Keith decided to join in, eventually biting Charlie's neck whilst both continued to play to an audience of 50,000. Back on the band plane, Ronnie Wood drew a pen and ink drawing of the mimed vampiric encounter that had been spontaneously staged by Keith for my benefit."-Denis O'Regan, 2012

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basilquesadilla · 1 year ago

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Just a warning, this post is just a rant/vent with about 0 organization, and may also have some mild, vague spoilers.

Watched Heartstopper season 2 with a friend last night, and I think this time that show really hit me hard and made me feel super single with my aromanticism, even with Issac there. I really enjoyed spending time with my friend, but I got sad because my thoughts were going “This isn’t forevee, you’ll be back to being alone soon.” Watching issac feel awkward amongst his own friend group felt so relatable, anf I resonated with that hard.

I feel like my aromanticism is just something I’m constantly going up and down with how I feel about it. I’ll feel great about it for a bit, then i wont feel hood about it at all for a while, which is getting tiring to experience. I often try to attach queerplatonic/platonic meaning to romantic songs, and i tried to do that with the song that played in the final scene where Charlie talks about the bullying he experienced and what it was like. But i couldn’t do it. There’s not even anyone I’ve met that i’d wanna be in a queerplatonic relationship with, aside from a few where i knew there was no chance. I just felt so lonely so I couldn’t even listen to it.

One thing that doesn’t help me is I feel so touch starved yet I’m also often touch-averse, likely due to the former. It took me nearly a.year with my current friends who I met last year to even do hugs, and I doubt it’ll ever go beyond that because i feel like people never show their friends that much physical affection. Especially since, even if i am non binary, i still look like a cis man right now. And I know a lot of people would find like doing any physical affection with me because of that probably, and I’m touch averse so what does it matter anyways lol. It’s just a torturous limbo lol.

My friend was saying how the show made them want to reinstall dating apps, and meanwhile after the show I had to tune my thoughts out with TikTok and listening to other music to avoid my thoughts.

Another thing that hurts is(this is some long context that i need to add) is that after high school ended, i really didnt get to keep in contact with a lot of my friends(Ik that’s common but bear with me). I’d watch some of them thriving and finding friends despite it being 2020 fall semester where covid was still in its full swing in terms of impact on uni, and meanwhile I was alone. I was severely depressed, and lonely. Because no one i met in my courses with other engineering majors clicked with me(the classes were pre reqs for me as a computer science major). So then I got more lonely, and sophomore year was a repeat.

Final week of school that 2nd year i even decided i couldn’t take talking to even my online friends community aside from 2-3 close friends there. Then junior year happens, and i met my current friends. And of course i love them and everything. But i also have this voice in my head saying that the repeat will happen post graduation. We’ll all go to different places, and then they’ll talk to me less and less, and eventually I’ll just feel lonely and isolated again, and be back to thinking some very dark thoughts. And it’s terrifying. And i guess watching heartstopper s2 reminded me of all that, even tho i absolutely adored it still. All i could think in the back of my head was “you will never experience affectionate touch like this. You will never be able to be in a romantic relationship,’or a queerplatonic one. You’ll be lonely and your friends won’t always be there with you.”

So yeah, here I am, back to feeling shitty about being aromantic and hating it. Because instead of feeling the yearning, crushing, and relationships like others. Instead of feeling physical affection like others. Instead of being able to see a future with a partner. All im experiencing right now is bitterness at my lot in life and how i feel like all my friends will slowly leave me, and i won’t be able to make new ones because I suck at doing that as shown by the 2 years before meeting my current ones. And that just makes me feel depressed. I honestly feel kinda broken and hopeless. Aro and thus a lot of relationship options are cutoff from me, cant find people I’d want to enter a queerplatonic relationship with, AND have trouble with making friends. It just feels like I’m destined to be lonely, and ik it isnt supposed to be a factor in that, but it does feel like being aromantic plays a role in this whole mess for me rn. And i hate that.

If you read to the end of this, ty and I greatly appreciate you :) 💛

#quesadilla post #sty rambles #vent #vent post #aro #aromantic #aromantism #heartstopper #heartstopper netflix #hesrtstopper season 2

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shxdowsofombra · 2 years ago

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Wedding/After Party

[Charlie]

Charlie went over to the side where Tate was once he made sure everything was set with Nibs for the ceremony. “Hey baby, is it anything like you thought it would be like?”

[Tate]

Tate sat in his seat before hearing Charlie’s voice. He looked up at the boy and nodded, “Yeah it’s really nice. Your parents did a good job.”

[Charlie]

“It’s weird being able to be here and see my parents getting married. But I think it is cool too.” He says before hearing the music and standing up as his mom walked down the aisle and the ceremony went on.

[Tate]

“Well it’s the way they always wanted to do it, I think that’s pretty special.” He smiled before hearing the music and standing up. He watched Misty walk down the aisle and leaned over. “She looks gorgeous.”

[Charlie]

Charlie smiled as he saw Misty walking down. “That was her dream dress since she didn’t get to wear it for her first one.” He says before seeing his dad cry. “Yup I knew he would cry when he saw her.” Charlie smiles fondly.

[Tate]

“I think that’s everyone’s wish, their husband cries when they walk down the aisle.” He jokes. He sat back down when instructed and continued to watch the ceremony silently.

[Charlie]

Charlie watched as the ceremony continued. He then clapped along with everyone else when they kissed and went back down the aisle together. Once they headed for the limo everyone started to get their things. “Why would you want to make someone cry though? I mean I know it’s happy tears but still…”

[Tate]

“Well you want to know they were so affected by you and the moment. I don’t know, I am okay with a shotgun wedding. Just me and whoever I love. That’s all that matters to me. But this…this is like a fairytale.”

[Charlie]

“I agree with you. I don’t really want the whole world watching, that is too much. I know my dad wanted a more private one but being royalty I guess they couldn’t.” He shrugged before taking Tate’s hand. “Come on, let's go to the castle. My dad did promise my mom her dream wedding so…I think this passes as that.”

[Tate]

Tate nodded, “There are a ton of people, but the people do love your mother. That’s always nice to see. A Royal people actually like.” He smiled before nodding. “Okay.”

[Charlie]

“I hear that quite a lot about my mom.” He says as he lets go of Tate’s hand so they can get into the car and he drives them to the castle. “I think it’s nice that everyone looks up to her. Had she not known about being a siren none of this would have happened. I mean my parents would have still gotten together but the whole kingdom thing…it wouldn’t have existed. It is interesting how the smallest details could make such a huge impact.”

[Tate]

Tate got in the car with Charlie and listened to his words, “What would your parents have done if they didn’t live here? Did they have a plan? Like staying in the camps or? They kind of seem like the type to run away to a private island.”

[Charlie]

“Well my parents actually have a house that he made for them and I am sure that is where they would have lived. Girls can’t access lost boy camp and boys don’t really like going around the lost girl camp. My parents were a special exception. Although I wouldn’t put it past them to have their own island somewhere.”

[Tate]

“Oh wow that is romantic. He made a house for her? That’s…wow. I don’t even know what to say to that.” Tate says as he smiles.

[Charlie]

“I am starting to think it's a family tradition at this point. My dad made one for my mom. My brother in law built one for my sister. I am sure I will do it at some point for someone that I love too obviously further down the line.” He tells him before parking the car and getting out to walk around to where Tate was.

[Tate]

“And your other brother, Tommy? Is he building houses for people? I was wondering who his girlfriend or boyfriend is.” He says as they walk together.

[Charlie]

“Uh yeah, Tommy built one for his girlfriend but she doesn’t know yet. He has been trying to keep it a secret to give as an anniversary present. So don’t tell anyone I told you that.” He smiles as he takes the other’s hand as they make their way inside. “You look very handsome in your suit by the way.”

[Tate]

“Oh so he is dating someone? Cool. And your sister? Does she have someone building things for her?” He laughed before smiling. “Thank you, so do you.”

[charlie]

“Yeah someone is building her something too, also a surprise though.” He smiled before pulling them away from the crowds for a second so that he could give Tate a kiss.

[Tate]

“Oh interesting.” He laughed before kissing him back. “So what do we do now?” He asked as he looked around the room.

[Charlie]

“Well now we are waiting for my parents to arrive for the after party so I figured we could, you know…kiss some more?” He tells him with a small smile before connecting their lips once more.

[Tate]

Tate kissed him back before laughing. “You want to make out in front of all these royals and your siblings?” He asked as he looked at the boy.

[charlie]

“What? Oh.” He takes the other into the hallway away from everyone else and away from prying eyes. “No one will see us.” Charlie smiles before kissing him.

[Ellie]

Ellie pushed away one of the princes who was talking to her before walking inside of the castle and stopped as she saw Charlie. “Charlie? Oh that is you. Is this your boyfriend?” She asked, smiling.

[Tate]

Tate kissed him back before pulling away when he saw someone walking up. Tate smiled as he extended a hand, “Hi it’s nice to meet you, I’m Tate.”

[Charlie]

Charlie barely had a second to enjoy the kiss before hearing his sister. “The world is against me. I sense this.” He mumbles before nodding his head. “Yes this is my boyfriend. Ellie, Tate, Tate, Ellie. No one is supposed to be in this hallway…aren’t you supposed to be with Tommy?” He asks.

[Ellie]

Ellie shook Tate’s hand, “Hi nice to meet you.” She smiled before looking at Charlie. “Why would I do that? He’s surrounded by a bunch of princesses at the moment.” She said before looking at Tate. “So you are a doctor?”

[Tate]

“Tommy is your twin right? That must be cool, having a twin.” He smiled before shaking his head. “No, I mean not yet. But one day hopefully.” He smiled before looking at Charlie.

[Charlie]

“Yeah and he seems absolutely thrilled they are there. I heard he was looking for you though something about fixing his tie.” He shrugged. “I think he is a very good doctor. He patched me up before so definitely on the way there.” Charlie smiled as he looked over at Tate.

[Ellie]

“Are you trying to get rid of me? To make out with your boyfriend?” She asked teasingly. “If Tommy wants me, he knows where I am.” She says before nodding. “Yeah he is my twin. That’s cool, I am sure Charlie is really into that.” She smiled.

[Tate]

Tate just smiled as he just shrugged, “Yeah I guess. I don’t think it’s that cool, but it’s nice to know he likes it.”

[Charlie]

“Yes, please. For the love of everything just like five uninterrupted minutes would be great. We will be out there to join once mom and dad arrive.” He says before taking Tate’s hand and pulling him into his room at the end of the hall.

[Ellie]

Ellie stopped Charlie as she looked at him. “And why would five uninterrupted minutes be necessary? You do know we are supposed to be here waiting for them to show up right? Not getting lucky in an empty room.” Ellie smiled teasingly. “What table are you at Tate? I am sure Charlie can move you to the family table, there is more than enough room.”

[Tate]

“Uh I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I didn’t get to check. I can do that now, I guess.” He answered. “Thanks for the offer, but I am okay with whatever table I am at. I don’t really think sitting at the family table is for me right now.”

[Charlie]

“First of all, I do not ‘get lucky’ alright, not that that is any of your business. Second of all we already know that mom and dad are going to take their time in coming here for many reasons. Third of all, unlike you I don’t get to see my boyfriend every day so please just go find someone else to tease before I lose my mind.” He groaned.

[Ellie]

“Chill out, you always make fun things so awful.” She said before rolling her eyes. “Go then. Have fun making out.”

[Charlie]

“I don’t like being teased and you know it. I got enough of that when I was younger thanks.” He rolled his eyes before leaving Ellie in the hallway and going to his room with Tate. “Sorry about her, my family loves to embarrass the younger ones…mostly me. I have my dad’s temper so of course they want to poke a sleeping bear or wolf in this case.”

[Tate]

“I mean I didn’t mind it. It comes with the territory, but I mean if you don’t want her to do that that’s up to you. My family isn’t going to let you just walk in and not ask you a ton of questions. And honestly I want them to. I care about their opinions.” He shrugged.

[Charlie]

“See I don’t mind questions, they are fine. I don’t like them assuming things about my sex life. It isn’t their business. I am sure meeting your family for the first time won’t consist of questions about how lucky you are getting. I don’t think those are normal questions.”

[Tate]

“Well Ellie didn’t do anything too bad in my opinion. But again it’s whatever you feel. I mean you didn’t really introduce them to me anyway so it was nice she came up to me.” He pointed out. “Anyway, what time do your parents get here?”

[Charlie]

“I was going to introduce you when there was a chance due to everything going on. They both live in another kingdom so they are rarely here. You already met Luna, Hope, Zach, Hero and my parents so they were the only two left besides TJ who never comes around.” He shrugged.

“Well knowing my parents they probably took the long way around so we still have some time. They never arrive on time due to certain…uh reasons.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Also, I don’t think I ever asked what your last name was. I know you know mine but I don’t know yours.”

[Tate]

“Well all the more reason to introduce me to them now.” He says before nodding. “Oh okay. It’s Roberts.” He said before looking out the window at the garden downstairs.

[Charlie]

“I can introduce you once my parents get here while they make their rounds to each of the tables.” He tells him. “So then how did you come up with that name?” Charlie asks as he notices Tate looking at the garden.

[Tate]

“How I came up with my last name? My dad.” He smiled. “I mean I assume that’s his name and that’s why I have it but you can ask them when you meet them.”

[Charlie]

“So then you ran into them after leaving the lost boy camp? I mean Peter doesn’t bring adults here…are they human too?”

[Tate]

“I mean as far as I know.” He replied. “They are younger. I mean my mom had me as a teenager and is still a teen so, I think I am older than them now.”

[Charlie]

“How would they be younger than you if you came after them? Do you mean they are physically younger? So then your parents would have had to be a lost boy and lost girl? Otherwise you wouldn’t be human right?” He asks as he walked over to where Tate was and took his hand.

[Tate]

“Well I mean they are still teenagers. I mean yeah physically, but sometimes mentally. I love them but sometimes it’s me that is more like the parent. Yeah they were, but they left the camps as soon as I was born and moved to level e camp.”

[Charlie]

“So then it’s possible my parents know your parents.” He tells him. “Did they work at the e camp too then? They seem like they would have some cool stories since I know lost boys and lost girls weren’t really allowed to see each other from what I was told.”

[Tate]

“Yeah maybe, I never asked. They really aren’t into the whole royal thing.” He replied before nodding. “They still do. You’ve probably run into them once and didn’t realize it.”

[Charlie]

“I mean my parents weren’t either until the whole finding the lost princess thing happened.” He says with a shrug. “Well I am sure they were lovely then. Most people I have run into have been very nice.” He tells him. “So then have your parents thought about giving you siblings or did they just want one?”

[Tate]

“No, they are pretty happy with one kid. I don’t even think they intentionally wanted me.” He laughed slightly. “A happy accident my dad says.” He replied.

[Charlie]

“A happy accident? I don’t think parents should be calling their kids accidents in the first place. I couldn’t imagine how I would feel if my father told me I was an accident.” He shrugged.

“Well in any event, I am glad that your parents had you otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.” He smiles as he pulls the other close to give a kiss.

[Tate]

“Doesn’t bother me, it’s the truth. I don’t want to be lied to.” Tate said before kissing him back. “Thanks.” He laughed softly.

[Charlie]

“I know but still.” He says before giving him another kiss as he lets his hand come up to cup the side of Tate’s cheeks as he deepened the kiss slightly.

[Tate]

Tate kissed him back before feeling him deepening the kiss and followed his lead with the kiss.

[Charlie]

Charlie couldn’t help himself as he continued to kiss Tate until the other’s back was against the wall. He continued to kiss him before breaking the kiss slightly so he could kiss down his neck.

[Tate]

Tate continued to kiss the other back until he felt his back against the wall. He felt Charlie breaking their lips apart and kissing down his neck. He pushed the other away slightly. “Maybe let’s just…calm down for a second.”

[Charlie]

“I wasn’t planning on going any further than that since I know that you don’t want to. It’s just nice to be able to kiss you without being interrupted.” He says before hearing people down the hall. “It seems my parents are here. Come on.” He says before taking the others hand as they made their way out of the room.

[Tate]

“I don’t care if we kiss in public you know, it doesn't have to be hidden in some dark room.” He told him before taking his hand and followed him. “Sure, okay.”

[Charlie]

“I know but we tend to be interrupted if it’s not us by ourselves.” He tells him. “Wait really?” Charlie asks as he stopped when he processed Tate’s words. “You don’t care if we kiss in public?” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

[Tate]

“Yeah, why would I care? I don’t see a problem with it.” He shrugged. “Is that not normal or something?”

[Charlie]

“No, it’s normal. I just thought with the whole wanting to wait thing it would include that kind of stuff in public as well.” He says. “But it makes me happy to hear that.”

[Tate]

“Well we aren’t having sex in public.” He laughed. “It’s just kissing. I am cool with that.” He says before looking at him. “So where are we supposed to be now?”

[Charlie]

“Main ballroom.” He says as he intertwines their fingers as he leads Tate through the people.

#muse: charlie #charliextate #tate014

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hells-greatestdad · 4 months ago

Text

Lucifer watches as Sera attacks Michael. 'Take Emily someplace safe'

It's been an exceedingly long time since Lucifer has felt anything fond for Sera - once having been on the council with her. Naturally... Lucifer's actions and fall did plenty to more than estrange them, not even to speak of the centuries and eons since...

But to protect someone dear to you? Lucifer can understand that.

And then Emily pleads with him, he nods.

"Of course. I'm a lot of things, Emily, but a coward is not one of them." At least.... not in terms of battle.... He feels her prayer fuel his power.

And then there's Michael.... all those words, as usual. But something he says catches Lucifer's attention....

However, before that, there's an attack, the impact felt. Lucifer is still in decent condition afterwards, but Michael is as powerful as he remembers. Once that attack is weathered, Lucifer processes...

'Where Charlotte, your daughter' .... 'is no more'

He falters.

"Wait.... Charlie is..."

There's a twisting feeling in his gut, a heavy weight on his chest. As if someone just punched him, very hard. And not only from Michael's attack.

"I was talking with her only this morning...."

That's war.... it takes. And takes. And takes...

But this time, it took something most precious....

Grieve later. Move forward now.

...where had these words come from? They are clear in his memory, yet he does not actually recall such a conversation...

Lucifer speaks. Voice perhaps a bit hoarse as he bites his tears.

"Cycles, huh. You and Dad... always talking in goddamn riddles...."

Move forward now.

If you don’t, your child’s dream dies with her.

"Michael. If I were to just give up, would it even be the same me in another 'cycle'?"

Head low, but he looks up, now. Determination in his eyes.

"Too many people have sacrificed so much in this one. Including my daughter. I can't let that be for nothing. So if it's all the same whether we die or whether we give up? Even then, I'm going to fight for this reality. Charlie's efforts can't have been for nothing. I WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN!"

A moment. Lucifer continues to face Michael, not turning either direction.

"Sera. Emily. I'll have your backs on this. Let's set aside our differences for now."

With that, he rushes at Michael, aiming for a blow to the face using his flames

Aaaaand it misses....

|| @high-seraphims & @cast-you-dxwn ||

The earth quakes before them,

The heavens tremble;

The sun and moon grow dark,

And the stars diminish their brightness.

The LORD gives voice before His army,

For His camp is very great;

For strong is the One who executes His word.

For the day of the LORD is great and very terrible;

Who can endure it?

Joel 2: 10-11

The Heavens crack open. The sky shatters into pieces, Creation reflected in countless jagged fractals of the very fabric of its own reality.

The patience of the Lord has limits, and His wrath is mighty. That which has bathed nations in fire, which has filled the valleys and canyons of the earth with the dead, which has covered the lands in rushing water.

A finality in purification.

A Creation made clean.

A star falls, and the very pillars of the universe tremble with its terrible impact. Heat, pressure, and a light so terribly radiant that it threatens to eclipse the very rays of all the suns of all the realms.

Metal to slag and stone to magma, all to dust and ashes in the face of the crater that now dominates the battlefield, a destruction only seen in Creation as the humans had clumsily learned the power of splitting the atom. The very threads of reality weep and whimper, and from the largest celestial body and the smallest atom come the words that herald the final doom of all things.

Revelation.

Retribution.

Judgement.

Michael.

“Awake. Awake. Rise up, O Jerusalem.”

The words drift through the smoke and dust, and the haze parts with one swift movement, as though the very particulates are commanded to make way by the voice that drifts through them. Like the Red Sea to Moses, a corridor stands now clear between the center of the crater and its observers, with walls of dust and ashes.

“You, which hast drunk at the hand of the LORD the cup of his fury; thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung them out.”

There stands an angel.

His armor gleaming, his robes white as snow, as though untouched utterly by the destruction that swirls about him. Dark-striped wings fully unfurled, their massive expanse touching from edge to edge the deep depression that his entrance has struck into the solid ground.

His helmeted head does little to hide the light that burns in his eyes, supernovae unto themselves, scything across the battlefield with judgement and intent of reprisal.

In his right hand rests the hilt of his blade. The Blade. That which has no name save for those given by its foes. Nay. Its victims.

Foebreaker.

Daemonsbane.

Anathema.

His left, so it seems, is empty. Raising slowly, pale and calloused fingers curling in to his palm save for one. Pointing. Accusing. Condemning. All at the three who dare to stand before him. To stand against him.

They who had once been the most beloved. Not just to their Father, no. But to himself. But what, pray tell, is love in the face of duty? How stands fondness in the face of bitter betrayal? A trajectory following of days long past, when the eldest son had been called to take into account his brother.

“O Brother of Mine. Merry in rebellion. What now, has it cost you?”

He does not look to Lucifer as he speaks. His words not only his, but of the many. Countless voices that rise up from his throat, the cries of the faithful accusing and damning, even as he takes in the two who stand at the Fallen Kings side.

“O High Women of Heaven. One so burdened by duty, as we all must be, why now have you shrugged your shoulders? Why now do you strain against the yoke? Another, light and love incarnate, such tenderness given flesh and feather. Do you not now understand the joy of destruction? The holy uplifting of a righteous cleansing?”

His lips curl bitterly, his teeth bared in anger, and he gestures widely. To the destruction that mars their home, to the blood that spatters the street. When he speaks, his words are an echo, the same as he had spoken when he had once driven his blade into an unruly siblings chest.

“What have you done?”

@high-seraphims @hells-greatestdad

#ic #unholy crusade #cast-you-dxwn #high-seraphims

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startanewdream · 2 years ago

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For the @hinnyfest, prompt #6: "You are speaking about my future wife/husband. Be more respectful"

(Or this is a weird Weasley mess, don't mind it)

***

"Are we gonna tell them now?" Harry asked as they walked the path to the Burrow, following the enchanted lights that one of her brothrts had charmed to indicate the way to Ginny's birthday party.

"Not yet. After I blow out the candles."

Harry glanced at her. "Cold feet, Weasley?" He teased.

"I am just looking for the moment with the most impact," answered Ginny easily. "And you better keep calling me Weasley while you can."

"Weasley," he repeated in a purr, pulling her closer. Ginny grinned as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, Weasley."

"I love you, Potter," she said against his lips, and then they were kissing, fireflies around them, the night warm and promising–

"Hey, hey!" Ron's voice broke them apart. He had his hands covering his eyes. "No snogging on the party's premise!"

"I thought it was my birthday–why can't I snog whoever I want?"

"Because this is a family party," George answered, pulling Ron's hands away. "It’s safe to look now."

"I would keep his hands–because I plan to snog Harry a lot today."

"Mum!" George called loudly, though Mrs Weasley was far away. "Little Gin is planning to smooch Ickle Harry."

"A lot," added Ginny defiantly. Harry held back a laugh.

"Come on, Ginny, they don’t need to know."

"Know what?" Asked Mr Weasley, bringing a set of chairs outside.

"Ginny wants to snog Harry," said George earnestly, ignoring Ginny's glare.

Mr Weasley coughed, pulling out his glasses to clean them. "Well, they are boyfriend and girlfriend…"

"Thanks, Dad." Ginny beamed at him. "Now–"

"How is that you always get away with it?" Asked Ron, almost amused.

"Because I am the favourite daughter, of course."

"Pst." George chuckled. "It’s not Ginny, it’s Harry. Mum and Dad don’t think Harry can do anything wrong."

"This is Harry we are talking about, right? No offense, mate, but you don’t have a perfect record."

Harry shrugged.

"And it is a full record," Percy added good-naturedly, joining them. "Have you seen your file at the Ministry?"

Harry grunted; his file could easily fill up seven history books if one where to tell them, which he hoped never happened.

"A file?" Asked Bill curiously, passing by with a basket of flowers. “Care to share?”

“Just read Skeeter,” suggested Charlie, smirking at them. “What's now, Harry Potter: Chosen or Lucky One?”

“I’d say he’s lucky and chosen,” Ginny said, eyes narrowed. “And I would stop pestering him—you are ruining my night.”

“Exactly, it’s your birthday, we can mess with Harry,” said George reasonably.

“I would say getting all my brothers bat-bogey hexed would ruin the party.”

“Er—” Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Maybe we can just have a laugh—”

“Not at your expense.”

“According to Skeeter, Harry has faced worse than us,” Charlie teased.

“I can vouch for that,” added Ron. “Acromantulas—”

“How are spiders worse than a professor with two heads?”

“We once threw a snowball at Voldie’s head,” George said, a nostalgic glint on his eyes. “Oh, if we knew back then…”

“How many professors have tried to kill you?” Bill asked in a serious voice. “I lost count.”

“Are we considering Umbitch?”

“No, she just scarred him for life.”

“Got jealous of Voldie probably…”

“That’s it,” snapped Ginny, taking out her wand. “You should be more respectful—Harry’s life is not a scandal that you can just gossip like that—you are speaking about my future husband! He is part of the family and you will—what?” She blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry chuckled, clearly amused. “Hum… Ginny—”

Ron was the first to recover. “Husband?” He repeated, glancing from her to Harry. “Future husband? So you—”

“I proposed,” confirmed Harry, grinning broadly. “She accepted.”

“YES!” And then Ron was hugging them both, and his brothers were clapping; Ginny didn’t look like she was going to hex anyone for the moment.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Weasley asked distractedly. “How nice of you to be so happy with Ginny’s birthday.”

“Nah, she has a birthday every year,” George said genially, ignoring Ginny’s warning gaze. “But she only gets engaged once—at least, we hope so.”

“Engaged? Oh!”

"I am gonna hex you," whispered Ginny, even as she hugged her mother.

"It’s bad luck for a bride and a birthday girl to hex her brothers," he replied calmly, winking at her.

Harry laughed. "We will get back to them," he promised.

#Hinny #Hinnyfest #prompt 6: you are talking about my future husband #Weasley moments #It was a hard prompt for me sorry for this mess!

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darknessisafriend · 4 years ago

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Periods Commodus x Reader

Here I’m back with an imagine about our dear Emperor, @beatlebabe1996 I dedicate this to you ;)

You and Commodus had been married for a bit less than a month now, slowly, you had gotten used to each other’s presence, his frequent brooding and worries, but also his playfulness. Commodus was a man to discover and each day you learned more about him and fell even more in love with him; what had started as an arranged marriage had evolved into love. Even your husband, who was very suspicious over you at first and distant was learning to let down his guard, learning to know you were trustworthy. Yet, you still had a lot to learn about each other, you were discreet and shy, and he had a terrifying reputation…

You groaned in bed, burying your head under the sheets as the chamberlain came to wake you and your husband; today you really didn’t want to get up, you had a difficult night and pains in your lower belly had awaken you, you had understood your periods were coming. And as you woke up, you realized a slight wetness between your thighs, oh no…not when your husband was next to you, he would be disgusted, like many roman men were, some even considered it as a bad omen; what if Commodus reacted that badly too? Your heart started to hammer in your chest, you didn’t know how you would get out of that situation. You retained a little jump as you felt Commodus’ arm wrap around you.

“My Y/N…it’s time to rise.” He said softly and placed a feather like kiss on your temple. You closed your eyes, those soft lips gave you goosebump; but you lightly groaned, pretending not to feel very well.

“I’m…I think I’m going to stay in bed a bit more. I’m not feeling at my best…” you muttered. And you instantly felt your husband’s worry grow.

“What is it Y/N? are you feeling any pain?” he quickly asked, ready to call for a doctor.

“Commodus, please don’t worry about it. Just get up and start your day, I will surely feel better later.” You tried to convince him, you didn’t want the doctors involved and telling you to sleep separately from your husband until your periods ended, you wanted his comfort during that tough time of the month. But you knew how stubborn he was, he wouldn’t let go so easily.

“Tell me what you have. I don’t like things to be hidden from me. Especially from people I love. Don’t make me order you Y/N” He replied on a tone without appeal, he won’t leave this bed until you told him your symptoms.

“My belly hurts quite a lot…” you moaned as another cramp hit you. However, you didn’t expect Commodus to pull on the sheet to take a look and so you couldn’t prevent him from seeing the blood that had tainted your nightgown, you looked away in shame, your heart racing in fear that he would get angry.

“Oh Y/N tell me this is just your monthly bleeding…” murmured your husband, just for you to hear and avoid getting attention from anyone else. In fact, at the view of the blood, his heart had skipped a beat, fearing you had gotten severely ill.

“Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I should have known it was coming and I should have gone to my quarters.” You quickly apologized, not knowing how he would react. But he didn’t answer, instead you felt him get off the bed, perhaps in disgust he wanted to get away from you, you squinted your eyes shut, what would he do next?

“Love, here.” You jumped, startled by his voice so close to you. Slowly you opened your eyes and met his clear orbs, he looked at you softly, no hint of disgust or anger. You were speechless, you had to admit. And only after long seconds you noticed he held a piece of cloth in his hand, perhaps one of his expensive neck scarves made of silk.

“What…?” you asked confused.

“To absorb the blood for now.” He explained, not caring to dirty and taint the cloth “And I got you a clean loincloth.” He gave her a little smile, handing it to you as well and you couldn’t help but look at him as if he was crazy. “What?” he asked, curious as to why you looked at him like that.

“Well you’re not…? horrified or disgusted? Something like that?”

He chuckled, shaking his head “I have seen a lot more blood in the Colosseum.” He said jokingly, trying to relax you. his hand going to caress your hair. “And I heard some doctors say it could be a thing that helped the woman to procreate. So, something that would give me a baby with you, an heir…it’s neither disgusting nor horrifying. It’s beautiful.” He replied more seriously. He respected you and would never treat you in such way, the only woman he could trust and have close to him.

“But all men they…” you tried to explain, to be sure of how he felt.

“I’m not like all men my dear. I am Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus, the Emperor.” He smirked proudly at you. And you couldn’t help but giggle, indeed he wasn’t, he was unique, in many ways. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be ashamed my love. I will take care of you today, only emergencies of the Empire will get my attention.” He added, and you sighed in relief, he was a very caring lover, fully dedicated. So, you got up, taking the cloth and the loincloth and going to change.

Once you were all cleaned, you sighed contently, you were in fresh, absorbent undergarments. You felt much better and knowing Commodus would be mostly by your side today greatly helped. As the day passed, Commodus spent his time with you in your shared bedroom, away from the Senate or councilors, working at his desk, dressed in his black and red toga, reading and replying to petitions from the People.

Each time he heard you groan as you cramps became more painful, he left his desk and joined you on the bed, lying down next to you, wrapping an arm around you. “Be strong my love, it will go away.” He murmured against your ear as his hand gently massaged your lower belly. His warmth and gentle caresses alone appeased your pain, or at least distracted you from them. He stayed as long as you needed, or until you dozed off, tired by those changes in your body.

You were discovering how caring Commodus was, he had this tender side that was well hidden by a protective wall around his heart, he had been betrayed so many times. But with you, he could be himself, because you made yourself vulnerable to him and he felt safe enough to be in return. Soon, your poor husband witnessed your mood swings for the first time and found you snaping at him for no reason and then you ended up on the verge of tears. But Commodus showed himself very understanding, these monthly bleedings really seemed to impact the woman deeply.

“You know, I do have mood swings too sometimes…” he said as he hugged you, soothingly caressing your back, his words making you laugh.

“That’s actually true, mister grumpy!” you giggled, burying your face in his neck, now placing soft kisses against his warm skin, making Commodus hum in pleasure.

“How about we go for a bath?” he suggested, kissing your temple.

“Hmm good idea.” You grinned, nibbling his skin, earning a small moan from the Emperor, your mood swings were quick, but he wasn’t complaining from that one, he actually enjoyed it, a lot.

You both headed for the baths, hand in hand. Commodus had especially requested the water to be warmer, he had quickly understood warmth relaxed you and soothed your pains; and indeed, he was a very good observer. As you both entered the warm waters, you sighed in contentment and a slave came to bring a plate full of nuts and dates.

“I asked our physician Galen about what you go through. He recommends you eat these. Helps with fatigue and moodiness.” Your husband explained to you as he took some to eat, you looked at him, once again amazed.

“Dear, you surprise me more each time. It’s such a sweet attention. Thank you.” You smiled happily, swimming to join him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Anything for you Y/N. You are my world.” He replied as if those words were naturally coming out of his mouth and with you it was. He took a date and presented it to your mouth, smiling as you eagerly ate it.

“I had never dreamt of such wonderful husband.” You murmured, tenderly kissing him, grateful to have him; your mouth traveling to his jaw. You felt him sigh contently, how much he loved feeling you so close to him, purely desiring him…his hand buried in your hair as you nibbled his earlobe.

“Oh Y/N…” he breathed, slowly starting to feel aroused, he wrapped his arm around your waist while his hand seized your chin, making you look at him in the eyes. “Kiss me.” He said softly that request was the sweetest command, as if he feared you would stop.

“Yes, my love.” You agreed softly, instantly closing the gap between the two of you. He supported you just as you supported him. An endless devotion and an always stronger love, you could fight the whole world just to be in each other’s arms.

Commodus harem: @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @skaravile @niniitah-ah @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @charlie-sisters @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @hopelessdisasterr @stellargirlie @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria @sagyunaro @just-a-fucking-comedy @spaceinvader @radio-hoo-ha @lady-carnivals-stuff @sierraclegane @legojorny @lemondedeniname @hvproductions @syvellsworld @papercut-paranoia @jokerflecker @beautifulyoungprospect @bring-your-holy-water @five-miles-over @yukis-writing @morrisonmercurryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix

#Joaquin Phoenix #emperor commodus #commodus #commodus imagines #commodus x reader #commodus imagine #commodus thirst squad

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kkshowtunes · 3 years ago

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Dial 9

A little Mac-centric angst about Dennis moving to North Dakota. This is a songfic! The beginning of every paragraph is a lyric from the song Baby Hotline by Jack Stauber. This could be read as platonic or ship, I kinda wrote it as both.

Words: 1,624

TW: Alchohol (Canon typical) and anxiety

Anyway, this is my third fic ever, so lmk what you think!

Baby hotline

Mac planned to wait a month after Dennis left to call him. A month to let him cool off, and then they could catch up. He lasted a week.

Please hold me close to you

Only a week passed, and his best friend/roommate/colleague's glow began to leave their apartment. Mac and Dennis's apartment that is now solely Mac's. In those long three days, he played a voice recording he had of him raging about how the guy at the store had given him umber hair dye instead of sienna. He never thought he'd miss it.

Baby flatline

He punches in the first 7 of the number that was left for him on a crumpled baby blue post-it. He's too busy noticing that the ink has already faded a little bit that he doesn't even notice the shake in his hands. At least he knows he's not dead because a dead man's heart doesn't beat like that.

Still time to do it too (ha-ha-ha!)

The whole gang is feeling the impact of the departure. Frank even posted a friend-wanted ad. The only person who signed up was this chick named Mindy, or Wendy, or something. Whatever her name was, it certainly wasn't Dennis.

Baby snack time, chow down to earth

His life has become an out-of-order routine. Wake up. Eat. Go to work. Work ends. Work out. Sleep. Much like in the suburbs, but this time he's getting muscles. And this time, Dennis isn't there.

But in your head she's a hoarder of quarters

Mac pushes the 0 button before halting. He can't tell why he can't just call the number. It's just nine numbers. He rolls a quarter across his knuckles mindlessly, a trick he learned when he was nine and a habit he gained when he was ten. He started collecting quarters. Only the special edition North Dakota ones that came out over a decade ago. He only has two so far, but he thinks he'll soon have a small fortune in 25-cent North Dakotas.

And no boundary boredom, boundary boredom

It's so boring. So boring to not call him. So boring to wait for Ellie or whatever the new Dennis's name is. It's so boring to go to work, especially when Charlie's off trying to woo the waitress and Dee's buying a new car because he crashed the last one. It's boring to go home to only his exercise bike and beer.

I contend that your drinking eye has never opened

He types a 1. Then stops. Again. He takes a sip from his beer and wishes he hadn't. The beer didn't pair well with the taste of anxiety brewing in his stomach. Anyway, he'd been trying to cut down on alcohol.

I insist somebody will die, and I hate hoping

He quickly dials another 3 digits. Then stops. Goddammit. That's when the thoughts poured in. Dennis is dead. Just like the thoughts that started getting worse when he was 12. Just like the ones he got when his dad got arrested. He's dead.

Wishing that the pills let you cry, and I hate coping

He looks at the coffee table. Dennis didn't take his Borderline Personality pills with him. He always insisted he was fine and didn't need to get medicated. But he always took them anyway. He hopes the other man is okay. He hopes a lot.

Someday I will go back outside and see her okay

He doesn't want to be selfish. He knows Dennis is off being a dad, being a partner for Mandy, being Brian LeFevre. He still wants to look out the window or go to Paddy's and have him there. In his dreams, he's there, and he's okay, and he's real.

Hung up and put it on hold! My line is getting cold!

He types in the additional numbers and hears the dial-up noise. The phone rings. He breathes. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Just like how Mandy taught Dennis to do. He still hangs up before anyone can answer.

Hung up and put it on hold! (Oh, uh, I'll try again though)

Goddammit. Coward. He begins to dial again.

Baby Hotline, please dial nine to get out!

He stares at the post-it and its 15 million creases. He stares as if he hadn't memorized it 15 million times over. He pretends to forget it again, just to see his handwriting and the number scrawled. He takes a second to pretend to memorize it, then he types it in. The last digit is a nine, Dennis's unlucky number. Why? His favorite family member, his aunt, died when he was nine. The license of his first car, which he wrecked, ended with a 9. He met Charlie and Mac on September 9th. Nothing good happens with nines and Dennis. Mac knows this because Mac always remembers stuff like this. Stuff that isn't important but stuff that matters.

No flatline, what were you scared about?

The number rings through! It's a valid number! There's a voice at the other end! Dennis is fine. A feminine voice? Mac knows Dennis's voice. That isn't it. Maybe it's Mandy's. Dennis is fine.

Baby sat by and felt the wind

Mac is so busy fixating on the voice's sound that he doesn't realize what it's saying. "Could you repeat that?" he asks, his voice excited and a bit rough from not talking for a bit. The room is cold, but the excitement brings a comforting breeze of warmth. "Dial 3 if you are dealing with suicidal ideation," the voice buzzes, stiff and robotic. The room freezes, cold as the voice that just spoke.

Numb, feel burning with haste

It takes a second to piece it together, but this isn't anything to do with Dennis. It's a mental health hotline. Anger wells in Mac's chest as he lets out a frustrated yelp. Anger turns into fear. He hangs up hastily and drops the phone to the ground.

And I'm realizing now it's a terrible waste

"Dennis cared about me enough to leave the number! What if Dennis isn't safe? I can't contact him? He didn't want to talk to me anyways… but-"He goes through this train of thought a few too many times as he paces around the room. Scratching his beard and mussing up his hair, getting gel under his fingernails as he does.

I feel numb, what a waste

Another two weeks pass, and Mac continues his routine. The phone incident (as he recently dubbed it) is now nothing but a dull pain in the back of his mind. Cindy (that was her name!) joins the gang. They're back to scheming. To being happy enough. To guarding the bar and being evil and badass and all of that.

Sunbathe 'til morning time and your eyes will open wide

He sits in the sunniest patch of his apartment, right next to the window where Dennis used to perch and sulk when his D.E.N.N.I.S-ing didn't work. It's always sunny in Philly. Except when it's not.

Oh baby, never mind

He has muscles now. Sort of. He's working on getting ripped all the way. He'll have them by the time Dennis comes back... if he comes back. "Never mind," he thinks, "I don't need to measure my life in terms of Dennis. I'm just as badass by myself."

And my sight, oh run and hide

Scheming with the gang, the new gang, is more effective without Dennis's rage. It doesn't mean he doesn't miss him like hell, though. He shakes his head to clear his mind. He tells himself not to obsess.

I can say, "Oh, wrap it in with cinnamon"

It's Dennis's birthday. Dee's too, but no one cares about that. Mac's train thought spirals are remedied only by buying a drink and adding something sweet and spicy. Not thinking too hard about anything. There's nothing to do about any of it.

I've been dead

Mac writes a letter:

Dear Dennis,

I don't know where you live, so I'm just sending it to North Dakota. God will find a way to give it to you. I hope you're alive! It was your birthday yesterday! I know that you know that, though. I wouldn't want to undermine your intelligence. Haha. It was Sweet Dee's birthday too. Duh. No one cares about her. That goddamn bird! Haha. Anyways, please reach out sometime. I'm still at the apartment. Love and care and stuff like that, not in a gay way. Even though I am gay. But like not necessarily for you.

Your best friend,

Mac

Oh, wrap the trouble now, I feel so good. Ring won't bend, thinking bent.

Dee always said they were like a married couple. Now Mac feels like a widow. But he's moved on. Moving on feels good. He would have preferred to not have had to move on from anything, but this will have to do.

I won't stay more anymore, oh I don't even think about it

He rearranged the apartment already. Gym room. His room. No room for Dennis. Why would there be a room for Dennis? Cindy says he has a Dennis-shaped hole he needs to fill. She's probably right. He buys a doll that looks like him.

Oh, you know I don't

Cindy hates the doll. Even though she's the one who suggested it. She insists she never did. The whole gang hates it. Obviously, they do. It's disgusting. Mac knows it too. Mac hates it, but he hates himself without it more than he hates the doll. So whatever. It stays. Mac prays because it's like hoping, but god's there.

I hate hoping

and he really, really, really does hate hoping

#mac mcdonald #iasip #its always sunny in philly #its always sunny in philadelphia #its always sunny #ronald mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds #macdennis #macden #iasip fic #its always sunny fic #iasip fanfic #doodlebug writes!#doodlebug says things #I wrote this while sleep deprived at an airport because my flight was delayed 2 hours so

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

The Love Yet Known Part 3

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Late that summer after everything was settled with Luca Changretta, Tommy invited Eliza and Alfie to visit Arrow House in Warwickshire. Since Tommy was the one who initiated it, he figured it would be a nice, quiet few days. Charlie clearly missed his aunt dearly. The little boy was used to always having her around to entertain him. He always asked after her and became cross when Tommy said she was married, that’s why she didn’t live with them anymore.

“Well, when is she not going to be married?” Charlie would ask.

Tommy just chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think there will ever be a day when that happens, my boy.”

No one was blind to the growing affection Eliza and Alfie had from their wedding day on. In fact, it was quite a sight to see when the two were together. Such a shy thing like Eliza had a calming effect on Alfie, who rarely seemed to be in a sour mood when she was around. Likewise, he seemed to bring Eliza out of her shell a little bit. She had many friends in Camden and found herself more active in the community than she ever imagined she would be.

Tommy never gloated, well he tried not to, but he liked to boast about how he made the match between Eliza and Alfie.

Still, Arthur and a few of the other Peaky boys were having a hard time accepting Alfie into their sacred spaces. They considered him their sister’s husband, not a brother-in-law. They had a petty habit of writing to Eliza and addressing it with her maiden name. Arthur felt sick to his stomach if he saw his dear sister’s name next to a name like Solomons.

Alfie wasn’t very hospitable either. He wouldn’t let go of old habits of trying to rile Arthur up. He only ever invited a few of Eliza’s family members to visit them in Camden. None of them even knew the married couple shared a beachfront home in Margate. Alfie would shudder to think if the Shelbys got an idea of inviting themselves over for a holiday.

But all things considered, life was going well.

~~~~~~~

Alfie helped Eliza out of the car. “This place gets bigger every time I visit; I swear it does.” He muttered.

His wife laughed softly. “Well, hopefully, you don’t get lost.”

Charlie came running outside to greet his aunt. “Auntie Liza!”

“Hello!” Eliza beamed and stooped down to pick her nephew up.

“Oh, love, be careful.” Alfie winced. It was a good thing Eliza wasn’t easily irritated. Because once Alfie found out she was pregnant, he became overprotective. He insisted on carrying things for her, let her sleep in as long as she liked, and had someone come in to take over any housekeeping duties that she might’ve done. Not that Eliza was keen on keeping anything clean anyway. Alfie knew he was being annoying, but he wanted to make sure that his child and the mother of that child was well kept. He felt it was his duty to ensure their safety and health.

Charlie gave Alfie a side-eye. “Hi, Uncle Alfie.” He said in a less jovial voice.

“You well, Charlie?”

“Mhm.” The little boy shrugged.

Eliza set him down and reached for her suitcase but Alfie stepped in. “I’ve got it. Go on ahead.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed Charlie inside to find Tommy.

~~~~~~~~~

At dinner that night, it was just the four of them. Tommy, Lizzie, Alfie, and Eliza. They chatted casually about things, nothing too consequential. Then, during dessert, Eliza felt it was a good enough time to tell them.

“So, Alfie and I have news.” Eliza reached for her husband’s hand under the table and gave him a smile.

“You’re pregnant.” Tommy finished for her.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “And what on Earth gave you that impression?” He snapped. He knew how important and special it was for Eliza to tell everyone about the baby, so Alfie was a bit ticked off that Tommy had affectively ruined the moment.

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey glass. “Am I wrong?”

“Well…no.”

“But how did you know?” Alfie asked again.

“Because of the way you’ve been acting around her. Anyone could tell if they’ve known you long enough, Alfie.” Tommy answered casually. “I haven’t seen her carry anything at all today.”

Eliza just chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know we made it that obvious.”

“You and I will have a lot to talk about then,” Lizzie spoke up.

“Why? Oh…oh really?” Eliza’s eyes lit up. “You’re pregnant?”

The two sisters-in-law got up to hug one another. Surely it was special knowing there was someone else walking a similar path. After all, it’s not like their husbands knew what it felt like.

“Well, seems we’ll be coming around much more often then, Tom.” Alfie sighed. Well, if his wife was happy, then he would drive her back and forth from London to Warwickshire as many times as she liked.

~~~~~~~~~

Lizzie gave birth to Ruby when Eliza was still seven months along. Seeing and holding the baby girl in her arms was such a lovely occasion. It was almost like a hint at what was to come. It would be much more surreal though, that’s what Lizzie told her.

“It’s so strange holding her. All of a sudden, you’ve got this little life. One you’ve waited so long to hold and she’s yours to care for and love. It’s really overwhelming.” Her sister-in-law tried to explain as best she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Now all there was to do was wait a little longer. The nursery was all set up and ready. Meanwhile, the midwife was on call whenever the first signs of labor came.

In the blistering cold of February, Eliza was due any day. Alfie started to work from home just in case she went into labor and he needed to be there for her. He didn’t get out of bed as early, but he was awake much earlier than his wife on most mornings.

It was a peaceful time where he could just bask in the warm feelings of holding his beloved wife close to him, all cuddled up in bed. Cyril keeping their feet warm at the end of the bed. His soft breathing sometimes syncing up to Eliza’s heartbeat.

Alfie would wrap an arm around her waist, resting a hand over her swollen stomach. There, he could feel his child kicking. The emotions that overcame him when he felt that little pressure against his hand were indescribable. He was thrilled, excited, nervous, afraid. He didn’t know how he would measure up as a father. Didn’t know how his line of work would impact the life of his child.

Every possible worst-case scenario had run through his head since Eliza told him she was pregnant. His worst fear was losing her and the baby. Or losing the baby and having to cope with their shared grief. Or losing Eliza and having to be a single father while grieving his wife.

The possibilities kept him up at night, practically driving him mad with anxiety. But then there were the good thoughts. The joy he would feel when he first held his child. The pride of seeing every milestone from first words to first steps.

It was overwhelming to think about and it didn’t help that the wait was making him even more anxious.

~~~~~~~~~

But finally, the day came when Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby boy. It was a relief to hear that his wife and son were both going to be perfectly fine. As Alfie climbed the stairs to see them, he felt his hands trembling with anxiety and anticipation.

What if he did something wrong?

What if Eliza thought he wasn’t a good father?

What if he just wasn’t enough?

All the self-deprecating thoughts seemed to vanish into thin air when he saw his son swaddled in his mother’s arms.

Eliza gave her husband a tired smile. “He’s beautiful, Alfie.” She whispered with tears in her eyes.

Alfie walked over to the bed and peered over. “Fucking hell, look at all that hair, aye?” He chuckled with tears welling up in his eyes as well. “Look at him, he’s about as perfect as you can get, ain’t he?” He kissed Eliza’s forehead. “I can’t ever repay you for giving me such a perfect gift.”

“I think you can with a few dozen nappy changes.” She teased back.

“Done deal.” He grinned and gently cradled his son’s head.

“You can hold him.”

Alfie’s nerves pricked at him again as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Eliza gently placed the newborn in his arms, looking over him with such fondness.

“There you are.” He said softly. “Been waiting quite some time for you, mate.”

Eliza rested her cheek on her husband’s shoulder as he spoke to their son. “What should we name him?” She asked.

They had passed around a few names over the course of her pregnancy but none of them particularly stood out to either of them.

“How about Asher?”

“Is that Jewish?” Eliza asked.

Alfie nodded. “Means blessed. Was one of the twelve tribes of Israel, back in ancient times.”

She smiled. Truly, she felt blessed. Not just by the birth of her son, but by everything. She had found her soulmate, fell in love with him, married him, and now produced such a beautiful little boy. Her heart felt so full in her chest. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A month after Asher was born, Eliza brought up the idea of bringing him to Warwickshire to meet her family. Tommy was apparently arranging a dinner to bring the whole family together. That way they could catch up on things without being busy with work and the children could all see their cousins.

Alfie bristled at the idea. It was one thing to spend a couple of days with just Tommy and Lizzie. But to be around the whole Shelby family, it was not a pleasant thought. He almost felt as if he’d be alone, surrounded by people who didn’t quite trust him. People he didn’t really trust either.

“Won’t be a pleasant trip, tryna get there with a newborn.” He thought of the mistake on the fly.

“It’ll be fine, it’s not too far and I’m sure Asher will sleep the whole way there. If he doesn’t then it isn’t the end of the world.” Eliza assumed her husband was just concerned about the baby’s sake.

“Dunno…”

“Then maybe we invite everyone here. It’ll be a little crowded but we’ll make it work.” She suggested to eliminate the idea of traveling.

Having the Shelbys in his space, his territory was an even worse idea. “Tommy’s place is big enough, we ain’t gonna have that many people over here.”

“So…” She looked at him. “Then we’ll go to Tommy’s.”

Alfie didn’t want to outright say he didn’t want to be around her family. He was afraid it might break her heart. But he wasn’t going to pretend that it was a joy to be around them either. He stifled a groan, feeling backed into a corner for sure. “I mean…if it’ll make you happy, love.”

“I want to see Ruby and I want everyone to meet Asher.” She replied, able to hold her ground against him when she chose to. “So yes, it would make me happy.”

There was no arguing that. His wife’s happiness was one of the few things that mattered to him. “Alright then, we’ll go. I won’t be a bother about it.” He promised, earning a smile and a kiss from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Asher slept through most of the car ride over to Warwickshire. Eliza appeared happy to be seeing her family and to introduce them to her son.

The sun was starting to set as they entered the estate. Alfie felt on his guard as he walked in beside Eliza, already hearing the colorful language coming in from the parlor. There was laughing and yelling coming from upstairs, most likely the children playing with one another.

Polly saw them coming in first and rushed over to embrace her niece. “Look at you. Motherhood suits you, my dear.” She turned to Alfie who was holding his son. “And there he is. Looks very healthy. You must be very proud, Alfie.”

“Yeah.” He smiled slightly. Leave it to Polly to get on his good side even when he was tense. “He’s a lot of work, ain’t he, but it’s rewarding.”

Polly could see the hesitation in Alfie’s eyes. He was holding Asher protectively to his chest, his eyes scanning across the room almost looking for potential threats. She decided he would have to warm up to the idea of handing his son over for anyone to hold.

Eliza didn’t appear to catch onto her husband’s discomfort. “Alfie, I’ll take him.”

“S’alright, love. I don’t mind.”

“Well, let Polly hold him for a bit.” She suggested.

“It’s alright,” Polly replied gently to her niece. “You two make yourselves at home. I’ll get you a drink, love. Alfie would you like something?”

“No, thank you.” He replied a bit relieved that Polly hadn’t pushed the matter.

But then Arthur swooped in and gave his sister a bear hug. “Glad you came, chey.”

Eliza giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Arthur.”

“Good to see ya. Now, where’s the little one, aye?” The eldest Shelby’s eyes settled on Alfie with a look of slight distaste.

Eliza stepped in to try and keep the atmosphere light and festive. “This is Asher, he just turned a month old.” She reached over to adjust the little cap on the newborn’s head. His dark hair was sticking out from underneath it.

“A month already.” Arthur shook his head. “Well, wish we could’ve been there earlier.” He gave his brother-in-law a stern look. As if Alfie was purposefully keeping Eliza hidden away in Camden Town to keep her away from her family.

“Arthur…” She sighed. But it was too late. The powder keg had already been lit.

“Well, mate, it weren’t the easiest delivery. Eliza had to take a bit of time to recover.”

“If Pol had been there like she wanted then maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Arthur wasn’t standing down from the challenge. In fact, he welcomed a reason to argue.

“Arthur, that’s enough.” His aunt interrupted. “We’ve had this discussion before but it’s over. The baby’s already born.”

But neither man listened to a voice of reason. “She had the best midwife in Camden Town there. Are you insinuating I wouldn’t get the best for me wife?”

“I’m saying you’ve been keeping our sister from seeing her family.”

“She’s got a mind of her own, mate, she can go wherever she wants whenever she wants.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Please, will you two just stop?” Eliza begged.

“Did she have a choice when Tommy sold her off to you?” Arthur’s voice raised and Eliza knew she had to step in before the rest of the party started to take notice of the brewing storm between her brother and husband.

“Alright, enough. You two are making a scene and it’s ridiculous.” She took Asher from Alfie’s arms when he was caught off guard and handed the baby to Polly. Before her husband could protest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into another empty room of Arrow House.

“You’re just going to leave him?” Alfie spat.

“With my aunt who I trust with my life? Yes!” She snapped in an exasperated tone. “What on Earth has gotten into you? I thought this would be a nice visit, I didn’t think I had to tell you to be on your best behavior. But apparently, I should’ve because you’re acting like a child!”

“Your brother started it!” His normally soft-spoken wife gave him a death glare. Alfie backtracked when he realized the childish response was exactly what Eliza was talking about. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I just don’t like him treating me that way. Like I’m some monster who kidnapped you.”

“Oh, Alfie.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. “You know Arthur and you know that’s not true. You’ve given me everything and I’ve never been so happy. But we can’t make them see that. If they don’t see it then that’s their fault.” She kissed his cheek. “We know the truth.”

He grumbled. Of course, she was right, seldom was she wrong. It just didn’t help that when they went back to the party, Arthur would still be the same. “M’trying, love.”

“I know you are.” She smiled. “They’re difficult. But you are too.”

He chuckled. There was no arguing that.

“But now Asher is sort of a buffer. You just have to let them hold him.”

Alfie looked disgruntled. He knew intuitively that none of the Shelbys would bring harm to the child. But there was still that protective instinct that he could never totally shake. If he let his guard down, bad things happened. The only time that wasn’t the case was when he was alone with Eliza and Asher. That quiet space where everything good in the world seemed to line up. Nothing outside of their warm home mattered.

“Alright.” He relented. It seemed reasonable that if he played along, the sooner they would be out of there.

Eliza smiled and kissed him softly. “Try to enjoy yourself.” She said before going to return to the party.

~~~~~~~~~

Alfie followed and found Polly was still holding Asher. But Ada and Lizzie were cooing over the baby. Tommy was sat next to his aunt, holding Ruby and smiling at his new nephew. Even Arthur was nearby smiling at Asher.

Alfie did his best not to hover even when his son was passed from relative to relative. It seemed to make Eliza happy to see her family holding her newborn. She spoke proudly about him. The meaning of his name, his blue eyes, how much Cyril adored him, and everything else that had happened in his short life.

After a while, Alfie began to relax slightly. Although he always kept an eye out to see who was holding Asher.

Toward the end of the night, his son was finally placed back in his arms. Asher was fast asleep despite the Shelbys having a good time with a good amount of alcohol. Alfie gently touched his cheek with his thumb. “They can be exhausting, aye?” He murmured quietly. “Better get used to it I suppose. Don’t think they’re going anywhere.”

Asher yawned and shifted slightly in his swaddle.

Alfie glanced up when he heard someone clear their throat. Arthur was standing nearby, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty armchair near the sofa Alfie was sitting on.

“Ain’t my house, mate.”

Arthur shrugged and sat down. “So, how does it feel, aye? Must get no sleep with him. And Liza, I doubt she ever gets up. Would take a train to wake her when she was younger.”

It was a strange olive branch but Alfie chuckled. “Yeah, it’s tough tryna get her up to nurse him. S’alright though. Never been a big sleeper myself.” He admitted.

“Yeah, war will do that to you.” Arthur agreed after a sip of whiskey.

They were so similar, it was a wonder that they butted heads so often. They were veterans with deep scars, liked to solve problems with their fists, hardly flinched at death, and yet fiercely cared about their kin. But bad blood was hard to wash out, especially in their line of work.

“I’d always be up with Billy when he was that young. It’s good, keeps your mind busy.” He added.

“They’re a good distraction.” Alfie nodded, looking down at his son. “Changes a lot of perspectives on life.”

Arthur looked across the room to see Eliza smiling at him. Of course, she’d put him up to it, insisting that if he wanted to see more of her, he would be nicer to her husband. Arthur complained but she wasn’t hearing it. It seemed that marriage and motherhood had really taught her when to put her foot down. But sitting there with his brother-in-law, Arthur seemed to realize that there wasn’t much else he could do. Here they were, both fathers to a son, both husbands. They were too old to be the vicious fighters they were as young men. It was too tiring.

Alfie came to a similar conclusion. They could fight about the same things that happened so long ago. There wasn’t anything new to argue about. Just the grudges they both held. Which were equally as tiring. “Here.” He held Asher out.

Arthur looked a bit surprised but decided not to make a scene out of it. He set his whiskey glass down and cradled his nephew to his chest. “Looks like Liza when she was a baby.” He chuckled. “She had so much hair. Our mother was shocked. I hope he doesn’t cry as much as she did. God, she was noisier than John ever was.” His eyes saddened at the mention of Eliza’s twin. It felt like ages ago that they’d lost John and yet, it was still so fresh.

“That’s his middle name, you know,” Alfie said. “Asher John.”

Arthur got a little choked up. “He’d be thrilled if he was here.” He tried to laugh off his grief but it was obvious how much it hurt. “Don’t think he’d ever stop bragging about it.”

Eliza came over, so happy to see the two men getting along for the first time ever. She kissed Alfie’s temple as she sat down next to him.

A quiet lull fell over the room. The warm chatter of family radiated with the fire and drinks. Alfie felt his shoulders relax while he wrapped an arm around Eliza’s shoulders. Things could be okay if he allowed them to be. So he did.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

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#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomonsxofc #tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxlizzie stark #polly gray #arthur shelby #lizzie stark #charles shelby #ruby shelby #oc #ofc #john shelby #season 4 #season 5 #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy fanfiction

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wondersofdreaming · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Boys - TEN

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 2.605

Warnings: Guns. Lost brothers. Blood. Death. Shooting. The aftermath of the explosion.

Author’s note: The end. I know it's crap but thanks for reading anyways.

Divider by @firefly-graphics!

Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Feedback is appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE]

Walter had a grim look on his face. He could see that Melanie was starting to panic. Her face contorted into a look of worry, also her eyes were searching for the big body of her brother underneath all the rubble.

“We’ll find him,” Walter assured her, “Are you hurt?”

Walter helped her sit up on the pavement.

“I’m feeling a little woozy, and my back hurts from colliding with the car. Else I think I’m good,” Melanie answered. Walter made a mental note to keep an eye on her, as she could have a concussion or may be bleeding internally.

“Lucas!” Melanie walked into what used to be the front garden, calling for her brother.

A high pitched tone was ringing in his ears. The blast had knocked Lucas off his feet and onto the nearest solid thing, the neighbouring house. His broken arm was throbbing with pain, while a burn was slowly spreading across his chest. He had tried breaking ribs before, so he wasn’t doubting that he might have cracked a few from the blast.

Lucas opened his eyes and watched burning paper dissipating in the wind. The scorching heat from the fire warmed his face, as he lay there watching the orange and red hues. It was quite beautiful to look at, while it destroyed the childhood home of this triplet brother.

Brother. Sister. MELANIE!

He scrambled to his feet, hissing as the jolting pain thundered through his body. His head was spinning as if he had just gotten off a wild carousel ride. He was feeling nauseous as he tried to move.

“LUCAS!”

It was a distant sound, but he heard his sister’s voice through the loud ringing.

“Mel!” he tried yelling back, but the tone was low. His throat was sore and felt raw like someone had tried scratching the flesh from the inside.

In the distance, he heard a fire truck's siren, but he didn’t care about the fire, he needed to get to his sister. He jumped over the broken fence between the neighbouring houses. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to walk, it hurt to even think, but he had to make sure that Melanie was safe. The adrenaline was pumping in his veins, making him move faster.

“Mel,” he said hoarsely as he saw her crying into his triplet brother’s shirt. They both turned their heads towards him. Melanie released Walter and ran towards her injured brother. He was prepared for the impact, as his sister collided with his cracked ribs, but let out a gasp anyways as she hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Melanie sobbed, “I wouldn’t even know how to tell mom if you had died. And what about dad? What about Josh? And your job?”

“Mel, stop talking. We’re okay,” Lucas shushed her. He hugged her close, even though it hurt, but he didn’t care.

The sirens grew louder, making the raging headache Walter was sporting even worse, but despite that, he moved towards the road and guided the fire truck and fire engine towards the burning building.

Soon the area was swarming with ambulances and police cars. The firefighters contained the towering flames, while medics were attending Lucas, Melanie, and even Walter, who had stubbornly told them that he was fine, was looking into a flashlight.

“Can you remember your name, sir?” the medic asked.

“Walter Matthew Marshall, detective at the Minneapolis PD,” he grumbled.

“Well, detective, you might have a concussion from your head hitting the pavement. You need observation for the next 24 hours.”

“I don’t have time…”

“Detective, it is not up for discussion.”

Walter was groaning the entire way to the hospital. He and Lucas were placed in the same room. Lucas’ injuries weren’t as bad as expected, with only a few broken ribs and a concussion. Melanie had escaped unharmed, except for a few bruises and a high tone ringing in her ears.

The brothers needed observation for the next 24 hours, and with a lot of stubbornness from all three, Melanie was allowed to stay in the room with them for the night.

The police arrived a few hours later to take their statement. If it wasn’t because the situation was quite serious and Walter rarely laughed, he would have been rolling on the floor after seeing the confused faces of the detectives, when they told them that Melanie was the sister of Lucas but not of Walter.

It didn’t take long before Melanie fell asleep on the pull-out bed the hospital had provided. Lucas watched as her chest rose and fell, feeling relieved that she was alive and breathing.

“How are you feeling?” Walter asked from the window. He was watching the people walking in and out of the hospital, as they had a clear view of the main entrance.

“I’m good, sore, and pissed,” Lucas answered, “What do you think happened?”

“My theory is someone planted that bomb to either set it off when we came back or to destroy any evidence that could be found in that house,” Walter mused.

Lucas nodded, having had the same thoughts.

“Do you think he had anything to do with this?” Walter asked after a silent moment, pulling Lucas out of his train of thoughts.

“I don’t know, brother. I have no clue what our brother is capable of. He is a wanted criminal all over the world.”

“Do you think he’s the mastermind behind this?”

“He could very much be, are you having second thoughts?”

Walter turned around and glared at Lucas, who stared back. Their equally blue eyes were sharp and alert.

“No. I just hope we can catch him, get him into a prison that can get the idea of world domination out of his head, and where I can keep an eye on him.”

August walked into his mother’s new house on the outskirts of the city. He had been transported in a cargo ship to get back into the states. His tech associate Marc had been furious at him for leaving the safe house in Thailand, but nothing could stop August, he always got what he wanted.

“Mother!” August’s voice echoed across the mostly empty house. He removed the hood of his jacket, revealing his identical face to Walter and Lucas, with the exception of the moustache.

“Auggie, my son,” he heard her soft voice coming from his left. She looked frail and thin as if she would crumble at any given moment.

“We had a clear agreement that my brothers were not to be harmed,” August growled. His patience was running low as he stared daggers at his adoptive mother.

“They were at the wrong place at the wrong time, my dear,” her voice was calm and as if she was talking to a toddler.

Since the death of her daughter, Amanda had toughened up and had started the hunt for revenge. First, her plan was to kill all of the abusive men in the world. Then her plan expanded as her organisation became bigger. August had stood by her side while she ordered people to be killed. She was merciless and cruel, not the astronomy-loving woman August had grown up with.

“You’re hiding something.”

“For the hundredth time, I am fine. Sign the damn release papers, you cannot hold me here against my will,” Lucas raised his voice at the young resident doctor standing before him. Lucas was a tall man, and from his time in the army had gotten quite muscular, which were straining against the moss-green T-shirt Melanie had helped him in.

“I must advise against it, Mr Syverson,” the resident said firmly, but still, he took a step back.

“It’s Captain Syverson.”

“Your release papers will be ready in 10 minutes, captain.”

The doctor left the room. Walter was standing by the windows, looking down at the people walking. One hooded figure caught his eye, but he blinked and the person was gone.

Two phones rang simultaneously, waking the trio who had all fallen asleep in their respective beds after they’d gotten back from the hospital. Lucas looked at his screen and was immediately wide awake.

“Aiden?” he grumbled.

“I heard about the explosion. How are you?”

“Got out of the hospital this morning. I had to take a nap. Me? Take a nap?”

Lucas heard his friend roar with laughter. He would have laughed at himself if he had the energy for it, but instead devoted said energy to concentrate on why Aiden was calling.

“I’ve found your missing brother,” Aiden’s voice was serious as he explained that August was back in the country. He had avoided getting in through flight but had been caught by a few security cameras at a harbour in Norfolk, two days earlier.

Lucas walked out of his room, needing to tell the others about the news. Walter stood by the windows, stoically listening to whoever was at the other end of his phone call. Melanie was in the kitchenette, pouring coffee into three mugs.

“Thanks, Charlie. Tell Faye that I’ll be home soon,” Walter ended the call. “That was Charlie. Raven got a hit on August’s whereabouts, he’s here.”

“Aiden told me the same thing.”

Walter frowned. His mind racing.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I saw him earlier. He was at the hospital.”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen him before,” Melanie chimed in.

“Call in triplet-intuition or maybe it was the way he was standing. Still as a statue in the middle of a parking lot full of people walking by.”

“We have to go find him,” Lucas said. He fastened his gun to the holster in his belt and covered himself with a black zip-up hoodie.

Just as they’re about to head out, there was a knock on their door. Walter opened with caution, one hand on his gun behind his back.

It was one of the receptionists with a note that had been left for them. She handed Walter the black envelope, he thanked her and closed the door.

“Meet behind the library at midnight.”

“I can only be from August,” Lucas said. He paced around the room, wondering if it was a trap or not.

“Or maybe it’s a trap, you shouldn’t go,” Melanie told the two brothers.

“We have to. If we’re not back before 2 AM, call the police and say where we are.”

“No, I’m going too!”

“Over my dead body! If dad finds out, he’ll have my head. Mel, if this is a trap, someone needs to know where we are and can tell the police or FBI why it happened.”

Melanie sulked but agreed to stay back at the hotel.

Under the cover of a moonless night, the three siblings met for the first time. Lucas and Walter stood with their backs to the closed library, while they watched as their triplet brother walked down the pathway towards them.

August opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sound of heels clicking on the pavement.

“You have always been such a soft boy, August.”

The three brothers saw Amanda Walker coming closer with a raised gun in her hands.

“And your two brothers are a big pain in my ass,” she continued. Before anyone could move, Amanda aimed for Walter, but August’s reflexes were faster and he jumped in front of his brothers.

Everything happened in slow motion. August turned around with a sad smile on his lips beneath the moustache. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body landed on the cold hard ground. Lucas ran towards August, while Walter set off after Amanda.

August whispered something in Lucas’ ear before he took his last breath. Lucas closed the blue eyes of his brother as Walter came back.

“I lost her,” he grunted. He kicked the grovel around him, cursing at the world.

“It’s not your fault, Walt. Come, help me carry him home.”

A year later the two remaining brothers stood side by side looking at the tombstone with their brother’s name on it. Oliver Thompson.

“We found her, brother. It took some time and a lot of travelling, but we found her, and she’s going to be in jail for the rest of her life.”

“And we went to a hypnotist who unlocked our forgotten memories. No clue how she did it, but we remember the good times, the bad times, the sad times when mom and dad…”

“Let’s not become all too sappy, bro. Walter is getting married. She’s a nurse. Wish you could meet her, a feisty one, I think even she could whoop your ass.”

“Lucas has also found a woman. She is a veterinarian with a short fuse, but she makes the sweetest apple pie I’ve ever tasted.”

The brothers kept on babbling about what was happening in their lives, not noticing the hooded figure standing in a grove of trees, listening to everything.

August smiled at his brothers. His moustache had been shaved and he was growing out his curls. Somehow he looked like a beardless Walter, which he had chuckled over as he shaved.

“I’m sorry, brother. I wanted to burn down the world for being such a cruel place, but I know now that no matter how much I make it suffer, it won’t take the hurt away from my heart. Please, take me to the docks. Warehouse 16. Leave me there and don’t look back.”

Those were the words August had whispered to his army brother.

He had realised that he loved the peaceful life of living in a village in Thailand. In the few weeks, he had resided in the faraway hut, he had gathered food and helped the villagers with their farming, even though he didn’t want to help. But a particular black haired woman had insisted on him helping since he had such big muscles.

The world looked different from before with the woman’s help, he saw beauty wherever he went. But when Marc stood at his doorstep, telling him that his mother wanted to see him, he refused, so Marc did the only thing he thought would persuade the moustached man, he held his black-haired beauty at gunpoint.

August promised to go with Marc and made another promise to his new lady that he would be back, which he sealed with a kiss to her soft lips.

She had waited for him to come back, even demanded to know his secrets. If she were to be his wife, she needed to know about all his demons. So he told her. He had been astonished that she hadn’t run away screaming. Instead, she had smacked his cheek and told him that the world was a beautiful place in the eye of the beholder and that he needed glasses.

He couldn’t wait to go back home, to the woman who was waiting for him, who loved him for him, and he hoped he would be back in time to meet his child, the miracle he had created and would protect.

But he had needed closure to see that his brothers were well and happy as he was.

“... And Faye keeps saying that I have to shave off my beard and keep the moustache, so she can see what you looked like. I said no, of course, telling her that she can go harass Lucas instead.”

“She is such a sweet angel, with a devilish charm. I hope to one day have my own kid, who’ll wrap me around their tiny fingers and I’ll be putty in their hands.”

“Well, we hope you’re happy, brother, wherever you are.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Lost Boys #Series #Triplets #August Walker #Captain Syverson #Walter Marshall #My story #Fanfiction #henrycavillfanfic #The end #What a crap story #Queue

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lifeofkaze · 3 years ago

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An Art of Balance #34

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: The penultimate chapter everyone, can you believe it? How far we’ve come together. Just as a little heads up, I will be uploading the last chapter of this story (🥺) in one go with the epilogue. So if you happen to see the epilogue first, know there is a ‘little’ (totally not little) chapter still waiting for you.

Thank you to everyone who let me borrow their OCs, I did a little round up of everyone in this chapter. Lizzie’s wonderful friends are belonging to:

Katriona ,KC’ Cassiopeia: @kc-needs-coffee

Judith Harris: @judediangelo75

Ira Janda, Julian Bennett: @slytherindisaster

Azariah Steele: @cursebreakerfarrier

Henry McClarnon: @thatravenpuffwitch

Also massive thanks to my favourite girl @the-al-chemist for helping with the structure and reading over. You know I love you 💛

Word Count: ~ 5.600

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Chapter 34: Victory

“Hufflepuff is this year’s reigning Quidditch champion!”

Murphy hadn’t even finished shouting into his megaphone when Skye, Lizzie and everyone around them erupted into screams of joy. Skye flung her arms around Lizzie’s neck, hugging her mid-air, half sobbing, half shouting “We did it! We did it!” into her ear over and over again. Lizzie didn’t even have any words to articulate the rush of emotions running through her all at once. She felt euphoric, happy, exhausted and unbelievably relieved that her plan hadn’t backfired on them. Syke was right, they had really done it.

They had won the House Cup.

Still hugging and jumping up and down on their brooms, Lizzie and Skye were slowly drifting downwards, landing roughly on the soft grass. The impact almost knocked them over but they couldn’t care less. They were basking in the cheers coming from the hollering stands, their grins so wide their cheeks were hurting.

Lizzie could see Skye’s father and Professor Sprout giving them standing ovations and even Professor McGonagall was clapping, albeit not as enthusiastically as the rest. Murphy was beaming from ear to ear, remaining silent for once and letting the team have the full attention of the crowd.

One after the other their teammates were landing next to them. Lizzie found herself hugging Judith and even Everett in her enthusiasm; all of their animosities were forgotten over the raw joy of achieving their incredible last minute win. In this moment what had happened wasn’t important anymore; the only thing that counted was that they had reached their common goal and the Cup was theirs.

And then, all of a sudden, Orion was there, his eyes shining with pride and a beaming smile on his face. He swept her into an embrace and spun her around, neither one of them caring the slightest bit what anyone else might be thinking. Lizzie was laughing as she held onto him, feeling nothing but elation; she couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment.

Orion sat her down and Lizzie was swaying for a moment, feeling slightly dizzy from being spun around, too much sunlight and the feeling of Orion’s arms around her. Still smiling, he raised his hand to her face and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her flushed skin. The expression in his eyes was so soft as they found hers, the butterflies exploding in Lizzie’s stomach seemed to fill her up completely; the fluttery feeling combined with the adrenaline rushing through her body made her feel as if she was still flying.

He opened his mouth to say something when a sudden movement to their side made both of them turn their heads; Judith and Skye had sneaked up on them and were on the verge of upending a giant barrel of butterbeer over their heads. Lizzie tried to move out of its way immediately, but Orion quickly got hold of her wrist and pulled her back.

“You’re staying right where you are,” he laughed before the ice cold liquid was hitting them. Lizzie shrieked and closed her eyes as the butterbeer washed over her face and found its way down the back of her jersey. She buried her face against Orion’s now soaked Quidditch robes and could feel the vibration in his chest as he laughed. She couldn’t help her smile widening as he held her even closer.

“I knew you could do it, Chaser,” he whispered against her hair.

Lizzie pulled away and smiled up at him; a light giggle escaped her as she was taking in their drenched state. “We did it all together.”

Orion gently brushed a strand of wet hair out of her face. “As a team.”

She covered his hand resting on her cheek with hers, her eyes finding his again. His long, dark hair was just as soaked as hers was, but he obviously couldn’t care less. Lizzie’s eyes flickered down to his lips for a moment; the soft smirk forming on them made her hold her breath. Her wish to kiss him right here and now was close to overwhelming.

But before she could give in to it, her gaze flicked over Orion’s shoulder to where she could see the members of the defeated Gryffindor team lying in the grass. The misery they were radiating was a stark contrast to their own overjoyed celebration.

She could see Julian comforting a broken looking Henry; Azariah was lying on his back, staring into the sky with a blank expression and the two Chasers were silently talking between themselves, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Charlie was sitting apart from them; his head was hanging low, his windswept red hair obscuring most of his face. The rest was hidden his hand covering his eyes, while the other was still clutching the Golden Snitch, that was gleaming in the sunlight.

The sight of her friend's devastation felt like a jab to Lizzie’s heart. Her face twisting with sympathy, she placed a hand on Orion’s chest and gently pushed him away. He followed her gaze with a slight frown, before he nodded in comprehension.

He inclined his head in Charlie’s direction. “Go to him; he is in need of a friend right now.”

Lizzie knew she should go and it wasn’t like she didn’t want to; she just didn’t want to let go of Orion again so soon. Sensing her hesitation, he gently nudged her forward.

“Go,” he repeated. “We’ll have our moment later.”

Finally breaking free of him, Lizzie walked past her teammates and towards the Gryffindors. She stopped by every one of them for a moment, either trying to cheer them up or offer some words of comfort. When she reached the lone figure of her best friend, she stopped and knelt down beside him.

“Hey.”

At the sound of her voice, Charlie raised his bleak eyes to look at her for a moment. “Congratulations, I guess,” he managed to croak out before hanging his head again.

“Thank you,” Lizzie answered sincerely. She put a hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. “You put up an incredible fight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

Charlie shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Didn’t help much, did it? You won, we lost; there’s no way of talking around it.”

“It could have gone down either way; it was a matter of seconds.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I can’t believe I caught the Snitch only one bloody moment too late.” He choked out a bitter laugh and held the golden ball up for her to see.

“Looks like it’s me who gets the consolation prize in the end.”

He looked past her to her laughing teammates. “What are you doing over here anyway, champ? Don’t tell me you’re ditching your team for us moping lot?”

Lizzie sat down next to him onto the grass and nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m ditching my team for a friend who could use a bit of comfort right now,” she responded with a smile.

Charlie’s eyes trailed from her towards the Hufflepuffs again, who were busy hoisting a laughing Orion up on their shoulders.

“Even him?”

She had followed his gaze and nodded. “Even him.”

Charlie huffed but gave her a small grin, nonetheless. “That means a lot, Liz, thank you. But you deserved to win this time; you more than anyone.”

Lost in thought, Lizzie had been watching Orion celebrating with their friends. It was only now that she saw Charlie had been watching her in turn. Not sure if he was still talking about the match, Lizzie blushed a deep scarlet that almost matched Charlie’s robes; her flustered state made him grin mischievously.

“You’d better watch out though, pineapple,” he teased her, “there’s always next season. I’ll be damned if I let you defend that title; we’ll make sure the Cup gets back to where it belongs.”

Happy to see Charlie’s fighting spirit return, Lizzie dipped her head back and laughed. “Not if I can help it, Weasley!”

She scrambled to her feet and offered Charlie her hand. “Do I see you at the party later?”

It was a tradition to celebrate the closing of the Quidditch season with a big outdoor event down by the Black Lake. Generally considered one of the highlights of the years, it wasn’t only for the members of the winning House but for everyone in the school. As it was the last chance to have a bit of fun before the stress of their exams would take up all of their focus, most of the students had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Charlie, however, didn’t seem too thrilled at the prospect. He looked Lizzie up and down with a sigh.

“Would you accept a ‘no’ for an answer?”

“No,” Lizzie chuckled.

“Then I don’t think I have a choice, really,” Charlie smirked before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to march her back to her team. “I’ve got to celebrate my favourite badger girl, after all.”

Lizzie was probably one of the last ones left in the castle when she was finally able to make her way down to the lake. The sunlight had turned from bright to golden and was painting the landscape around her in an alternating pattern of light and shadow.

After the potion Ira had given her had worn off, the bone crushing hug from a sobbing Penny had made the pain of her injury flare up again with full force. When her knees had buckled from the sharp sting, Orion and Ira had been adamant she’d go to the Hospital Wing at once; her ribs had hurt too badly for Lizzie to even consider objecting.

Madam Pomfrey had been miffed when she had checked her up, muttering something about “This bloody Quidditch business” under her breath. To Lizzie’s relief, Ira’s initial assessment had been right and her ribs weren’t broken after all.

“I’d much rather you’d have come straight to me, Miss Jameson,” Madam Pomfrey had declared sternly. “Teenagers,” she had sighed,” always think they know better.”

She had been watching Lizzie reproachfully while preparing the ingredients for another painkiller potion, which was supposed to get her through the night.

Before she had left, Lizzie had made sure to check up on Brian; as it turned out, he wasn’t allowed to leave the Hospital Wing due to a mild concussion. He was miserable about not being able to celebrate with the rest of them, but otherwise he seemed to be alright.

“Kiss the Cup for me, will you?” he had asked her with a laugh as she had been about to leave.

Lizzie’s answer had been cut short by the scolding look of Madam Pomfrey, who had appeared by Brian’s bedside. “I thought there was an event you were desperate to attend, Miss Jameson,” she had chided her, albeit with the hint of a smile. “If you don’t want to spend the night here alongside your friend, you had better leave now before I change my mind.”

As she was walking along the path that would lead her to the Black Lake, Lizzie was enjoying having a little time on her own. It was a welcome change to the busy moments after the match, when her housemates had flooded the pitch and congratulations had been passed all around. It gave her the opportunity to let everything sink in.

They had won; they had really, actually done it.

Her team had come out on top; even after all the mess that had been going down this year, they had managed to get a grip and pull each other through. Lizzie felt overwhelmingly happy; never before had she been so proud of her team, of Skye, of Orion, even of herself.

She remembered the feeling of weightlessness when Orion had picked her up and spun her around; neither of them had cared about anyone else in that moment and it had felt so right; today, everything was feeling right.

Lizzie smiled to herself as she reached the shoreline, an unmistakable bounce in her steps. Whatever the evening might be bringing, she was looking forward to it; she had earned the right to just enjoy herself for a change.

When Lizzie heard two voices calling her name, she slowed her steps and turned around. It was Andre and Charlie, undoubtedly headed into the same direction as her. Tapping her foot in mock impatience, she waited for them to catch up.

Andre smiled brightly when they reached her. “Look who it is, Charlie.”

“The reigning Quidditch champion,” Charlie continued, now in a decidedly better mood after he’d had time to stomach the match. “May we escort you to your victory party?”

Both boys went up to either side of Lizzie and linked arms with her as they marched her along. She had to giggle at their overly solemn expressions.

“You may,” she laughed. “But why are you so late?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and jerked his head in Andre’s direction. “Someone needed to get dressed properly.”

It was only now that Lizzie noticed the giant badger on Andre’s blue shirt he was wearing under his jacket. She raised her eyebrows in astonishment and chuckled.

“That’s a really nice gesture, Andre, but that’s not quite the right colour.”

Andre merely shrugged, however. “I’ve got to uphold some housepride at least or else Erika might kill me.” He glanced down at his newest design. “That one’s risky enough as it is.”

As expected, the party was already in full swing when they arrived. Several stalls had been set up at the shore of the Black Lake and the houselves had given it their all to provide them with delicious food and drinks. They were all centred around a giant bonfire that was blazing brightly in the slowly descending darkness of the evening.

The stalls were decorated in yellow and black banners, as were the comfortable looking seats that had been grouped together all over the place. The image of the Hufflepuff badger was a common sight wherever Lizzie was looking. To add to the atmosphere, numerous strings of fairy lights had been put up in between the branches and down the stems of the trees.

The place was packed with laughing and chatting students; Charlie and Andre went to get something to drink and Lizzie found herself wandering around the site, looking for any sign of her friends.

She spotted the familiar strawberry blond head of KC over to the side of the bonfire. She was sitting in one of the cushioned garden chairs with a bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Her head was dipped back in laughter at something Rath had just said; knowing the tall blonde girl, it had undoubtedly been some wry remark about the course of the game.

Where KC was Murphy was never far and sure enough, he was lounging in the chair next to her. He was gesturing wildly towards the two girls with sparkling eyes, confirming Lizzie’s suspicion that they were indeed still talking about the match.

Sitting next to Murphy, Orion was attentively listening to the ongoing discussion. He was looking as deeply relaxed as Lizzie had ever seen him. As if sensing someone’s attention being on him, he turned his head. As their eyes met, a smile tugged at his lips and he motioned for her to join them with the smallest movement of his head. The shift of Orion’s focus didn’t escape KC; she nudged him with her foot before bending over to him and whispering something into his ear, making Orion laugh and shake his head.

Lizzie felt a smile forming on her face. There was nothing she would have liked more than heading over to her friends right now. For the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts last September, she felt completely certain of what she wanted; it was as if reaching their shared goal today had cleared her mind of all the doubts that she had been carrying with her.

But there was one thing she had to do first. Although it was incredibly hard to do, she turned her back on her friends and scanned the crowd for a different face.

After a moment, Lizzie spotted who she had been looking for; through a gap in between several groups of people, Lizzie could make out the familiar figure of Rowan. She was on her own and - just like Lizzie herself - she seemed to be searching the crowd as well. When their eyes met, they started walking towards each other.

“I’ve been looking for you!” both girls exclaimed simultaneously when they had reached each other, before they burst into laughter; it felt easy and carefree, almost like it used to be.

“Congratulations on winning the House Cup; you were amazing!” To Lizzie’s surprise, Rowan hugged her tightly. “Penny, Tonks and I were almost dying watching you play; what a match!”

A touch of worry flickered over her face as her eyes dropped to Lizzie’s ribcage, where the Bludger had hit her. “How are your ribs? Ira told us they’re bruised pretty badly.”

“She’s right, but nothing’s broken or anything,” Lizzie shrugged. “Madam Pomfrey gave me another painkiller potion for tonight, but it will probably hurt like hell tomorrow.”

Lizzie didn’t want to talk about her injury right now. She thought about how the whole school must have seen Orion embrace her after the match; Rowan must have done so, too. Lizzie was sick and tired of this ridiculous fight with her; she wanted to sort things out with her friend once and for all.

She took a deep breath. “Listen, Ro, we need to talk.”

Much to her surprise, Rowan responded immediately. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’ve been looking for you; I wanted to apologise.”

Lizzie had already opened her mouth to reply when her brain registered Rowan’s unexpected words. Not knowing what to say, she blinked in confusion.

“You want what now?”

Rowan’s gaze dropped to the ground and she rubbed her arm uncomfortably. “When that Bludger hit you and you were hanging from that banner, I was so scared for you,” she muttered quietly, her eyes still trained on the tips of her shoes. “I mean, we all were, of course; Penny even nearly cried. But Orion was there to help you immediately and even from the Hufflepuff stands you could see how afraid he was for you.”

Rowan raised her eyes to meet Lizzie’s. The different emotions shining in them were hard to pinpoint; it was a mixture of sadness, resignation and, strangely enough, something resembling relief.

“And seeing the two of you after the game was over…” Rowan’s voice trailed off and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s just so obvious how much he cares for you.”

Lizzie slowly breathed out, not quite daring to believe what she was hearing. “So you’re not mad?” she asked tentatively. “I promised you to stay away from him after all.”

Rowan sighed. “Yes, and you did. I’ll be honest with you, I really thought if we could just pretend like none of this had happened, it would make me feel better; and maybe even make the two of us better again, too. I was so hurt and angry at you; you are such an admirable person, Lizzie, so many girls want to be just like you,” Rowan sniffed and her voice broke slightly, “I just didn’t want you to have him on top of it.”

Lizzie felt her own voice becoming breathy. “You don’t have to be like anyone else, Ro; you’re perfect just the way you are.”

But Rowan shook her head and pressed her lips together. “No, I’m not. I deliberately hurt you to feel better about myself. But it didn’t work, I only felt bad for asking something horrible like this from you and making all of us unhappy in the process.”

Her shoulders slumped as she hung her head. “I acted like the worst friend imaginable, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Lizzie asked incredulously. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. I never should have risked our friendship like I did, I should have been honest with you from the beginning.” She laid her hand on Rowan’s arm and smiled when she lifted her head again. “Believe me, Rowan, no matter what you think, you’re always important to me.”

She hesitated to go on and gathered her courage before she continued. “But Orion is, too,” she said timidly. “It’s not for show or about wanting to be with someone I’m not supposed to be with. I really care about him.”

“I know,” Rowan sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose, “I guess I was more intrigued by the idea I had of him than by him himself.”

An encouraging smile formed on Rowan’s face. “But you, Lizzie, you know him, the real him. Not the Quidditch captain or the guy who loves broom balancing and nebulous answers, just him. And believe me, you matter to Orion as well, anyone can see that; you two belong together.”

Not knowing what to say, Lizzie took a step forward and threw her arms around her best friend’s neck. “Thank you.”

She was more than relieved when Rowan returned the hug. “What for,” she laughed before letting go again. She placed her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders, turned her around and pushed her forward.

“Now go and find him before I change my mind.” Rowan’s eyes swept over the crowd and a concerned frown appeared over the top of her glasses. “I need to check on Tulip and Tonks, they were talking about tinkering with some firecrackers earlier.”

She adjusted the Prefect badge on her jumper, gave Lizzie another smile and quickly vanished in the crowd. Lizzie watched after her for a second before she turned around as well.

Just as she started walking towards where Orion was still sitting with their friends, Penny jumped on her out of nowhere grabbing her arm.

“There you are!” she squealed. “Where in Godric’s name have you been?”

Lizzie wanted to reply but didn’t get a chance before Penny forcefully dragged her towards a big group of people standing close to the central bonfire. She was constantly babbling with excitement. “He is here, Lizzie, can you believe it! Ethan Parkin is here. At our victory party! This is incredible, he is incredible, all of this is incredible!”

She tugged at Lizzie’s arm impatiently. “Come on now, he has been asking about you several times already!”

As they were approaching the huge crowd that had gathered near the blazing fire, Lizzie could make out Ethan and Skye standing at its centre. The House Cup was sitting next to them on the grass, its silver handles decorated with black and yellow ribbons. The giant trophy was coming up higher than Skye’s knees; when Madam Hooch and Professor Dumbledore had handed it over to Orion at the ceremony on the pitch, Lizzie had been able to see how he had momentarily struggled to lift it over his head; Lizzie and Skye had only managed to do the same when they had tried it together.

Now, Skye was glancing down at the Cup every now and again, still unable to believe she had finally achieved what she had dreamed of ever since. Her father, on the other hand, paid the glinting trophy no mind; his hand was resting on Skye’s shoulder, his face beaming with pride. He was talking animatedly to his awed onlookers; Lizzie could see Skye was blushing and trying not to roll her eyes. She sighed inwardly; Ethan Parkin was probably talking about his favourite subject: himself and his illustrious adventures with the Wigtown Wanderers.

But when Penny pushed them through the crowd towards the front, Lizzie was surprised to hear that Ethan Parkin wasn’t gushing about his family’s club after all; instead, he was recounting the course of their match in such painstaking details it could have put Murphy to shame. He took a special joy in painting all of Skye’s free throws, goals and special manoeuvres in the brightest colours to the adoring masses; her last move in particular had him bursting with pride.

“If you ask me, that Keeper stood no chance from the moment she got her hands on the Quaffle,” he was declaring just now. “It’s a special technique my Skye has, Parkin family secret, of course; just knew she wouldn’t fail her shot.”

He interrupted his monologue and his eyes lit up as they discovered Lizzie. He nudged Skye with his elbow.

“Look who’s here, Skye; seems like we finally found your missing mate. Wondered where you might be at, lassie.”

Lizzie motioned to her ribcage. “I had to go and get my ribs checked.”

“Aye, that one looked like it hurt. I know what a Bludger to the rips feels like, but let me tell you, a good player always pulls through, no matter what.”

He clapped a heavy hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Well done, lass, you did a fine job out there. You lot can learn from this one,” he proclaimed to his fans, still squeezing Lizzie’s shoulder. “Takes some strength of character to recognise when your teammate’s abilities are greater than your own; right decision of Lizzie to pass the Quaffle to Skye, it was the key to their victory.”

Like Skye before, Lizzie was trying not to roll her eyes. “If you say so, Mr. Parkin.”

“How often do I need to tell you, call me Ethan.”

Lizzie smiled noncommittally. “At least one more time, Mr. Parkin.”

He laughed jovially and turned to his fans again, recounting some other detail of their match; Lizzie wasn’t even listening anymore. Using her father’s distraction, Skye took her chance and pulled Lizzie away from the crowd for a moment.

Looking back over her shoulder, she rubbed her neck in embarrassment. “Sorry dad’s so enthusiastic. Don’t listen to him boasting about me, you were smashing today.”

“As were you,” Lizzie smiled.

A smug grin stole onto Skye’s face. “Yeah, we did quite a good job, didn’t we?” Seemingly out of nowhere her expression turned serious again. “But don’t you think I don’t know what you were doing.”

Out of nowhere Skye nudged Lizzie’s shoulder, maybe a bit more forceful than she had meant to.

“Ouch! What was that for!

Skye ignored Lizzie’s complaints. “You were at your favourite distance for that last goal; you always make that shot.” She set her index finger onto Lizzie’s chest to accentuate her words. “Don’t you ever dare to risk a win like that again, you hear me, Jameson?”

Before Lizzie could say anything in her defence, Skye had hugged her tightly. “But thank you anyway.”

Lizzie grinned when Skye abruptly let go of her only seconds later. “What’s that now, Parkin? Are you going soft on me or what?”

Skye huffed and laughed out loud. “You wish, Jameson!”

With a last genuine smile at her friend, Skye returned to her father’s side. Lizzie couldn’t help but smile to herself taking in the scene. Despite all the pressure he had put his daughter through, knowingly or not, Ethan was now looking down at Skye with overwhelming pride; Lizzie wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Skye being happier than in this exact moment.

She stayed with the Parkins for a little while longer until Lizzie felt it wouldn’t be impolite to leave anymore. She was tired of Ethan’s constant droning, even if it was about Quidditch.

Lizzie was impatient to finally get her chance to talk to Orion now, but when she turned to the place her friends had been occupying earlier, she found it deserted; none of them was anywhere to be seen.

Not really knowing what to do, Lizzie started aimlessly strolling around the party, hopping from group to group, chatting with all sorts of people here and there.

So many happy faces were smiling at her as she moved through the crowd, congratulating her and clapping her on the back. Even her Gryffindor friends were seemingly enjoying themselves in this cheerful environment.

Lizzie could see Azariah laughing with Charlie and Andre, his arm draped around Ira’s shoulder; the curly haired Hufflepuff had her head resting against him and smiled from time to time. A bit further on, Julian and Henry were joking with each other, both raising their butterbeers in her direction when they saw her walking by. Sitting a little more secluded from the rest of the crowd, Lizzie could even spot Judith and her boyfriend Talbott; she was surprised to see the evasive Ravenclaw boy make an appearance at such a busy place, but then again, judging by the adoring looks he gave his girlfriend, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Judith.

Upon seeing all of her friends so relaxed and happy, a warm and fuzzy feeling was spreading inside Lizzie’s chest. As she leaned against a tree and took a sip of her butterbeer, however, she couldn’t help but feel a bit lost without having one of her own close friends to talk to.

Completely lost in her thoughts, the sudden sound of a familiar voice close to her ear almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Looking for someone, Chaser?”

Turning around, Lizzie found Orion standing behind her with a smirk on his face. Trying to ignore her wildly beating heart, Lizzie broke into a smirk of her own.

“What makes you think I’m looking for someone?”

“Aren’t we always looking for something or the other?” he responded casually, but the smile on his lips was mirrored in his eyes..

“I guess you’re right,” Lizzie mused, “but the someone I’ve been looking for is rather hard to catch tonight.”

Orion laughed quietly, the warm sound making Lizzie’s heart skip a beat. “I take it you’re drawing from your own rich pool of experience. You’ve been as elusive as a beam of sunlight this whole year; always visible, but impossible to get hold of.”

“Well, here I am.” She sighed in mock exasperation and rested her elbow on Orion’s shoulder. “But alas, the one I was looking for isn’t.”

Orion chuckled, clearly unimpressed by her teasing. Lizzie fought to not lose her composure as she felt his hand on her back, his touch giving her goosebumps all over.

“Is that so?” he whispered into her ear before drawing back again. “I fear you’ll have to make do with me.”

Lizzie tilted her head and grinned. “I think I can live with that.”

The atmosphere between them felt different; even when they had been nothing but friends, they had never spoken to each other in such a light, teasing manner before. However, this new dynamic felt completely natural. All the tension and strain that had hung between them for the better part of the year had vanished into thin air; Lizzie was loving every second of it.

Her breath hitched as she felt Orion adjust his hand on her back, his fingers grazing lightly over her spine.

“In fact,” he conceded, “Rowan mentioned you were looking for me.”

Surprised, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “She did?”

Although Rowan had said she was alright with it, Lizzie was still glad to see that she had actually meant it. The thought of not having to lie to anyone anymore felt wonderful and strange at the same time.

“I’m as surprised as you are. I take it, the two of you were finally able to make peace?”

Lizzie sighed with relief. “Yes, neither one of us was what you’d call a perfect friend lately.”

Orion’s smile grew softer. “Perfection is a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

Unable to think of a witty response, Lizzie’s cheeks blushed a deep scarlet and her eyes dropped to the ground. The atmosphere had shifted yet again, and she could feel the butterflies dancing in her stomach; she wasn’t entirely sure whether they were stemming more from nerves or excitement.

She was spared an answer, however, when a high, whistling sound suddenly cut through the air, directly followed by a mix of shrieks and laughter. The unmistakable cackling of Tonks and Tulip was clearly discernible above it; Lizzie recalled Rowan’s concern about seeing them meddling with some firecrackers.

Unimpressed by the commotion, Orion shot her a sideways glance. “What do you say, let’s leave the crowd to themselves and their fireworks for a bit?”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from the colourful sparks erupting over where the two troublemakers were undoubtedly working their magic and smiled at him.

“Sounds like a good plan, Captain.”

They left their spot under the tree and moved through the crowd that was flocking towards the commotion. Orion was walking in front of Lizzie, quickly gaining ground on her as the stream of people was thickening.

Breathing in deeply, Lizzie gathered her courage and lightly placed a hand on his arm before he was out of reach.

“Wait for me, will you?”

Orion looked back over his shoulder and waited for her to catch up with him. When she was closer, Lizzie let her hand travel down from where she had touched him to his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Her heart was beating frantically as she felt the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her hand.

Neither of them saw the surprised looks they were attracting as they broke free from the crowd, nor the badly contained smiles of their friends as they passed them. And even if Lizzie had noticed, at this very moment, she couldn’t have cared less.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #rowan khanna #skye parkin #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #penultimate chapter #can you believe it #I still can't believe it #get ready for the final one #I cried writing this chapter #surreal

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angstyaches · 3 years ago

Text

Drop

Again, this is quite heavy for this blog. Please heed the warnings! DM me for a summary, if you don’t want to actually read it because of any of the tags (I’ll make a post if anyone asks on anon). Stay safe, friends.

CW: disordered eating mention, alcohol, heights (inc. character struggling with fear of heights), angsty and dark thoughts, relationship problems being discussed, very brief but intense death ideation, mention of gore/injury (described by character, not real), danger of falling, mention of broken glass, emeto, food mention, blood mention

___

Shayne had hoped the bad thoughts would take longer to find him, but they were waiting for him just on the other side of his bedroom door in the townhouse. For the past two weeks, he’d eaten three meals a day with Charlie at his parents’ house, even if some of them were small, and he’d been imagining himself keeping it up once he got back, but now that he was alone, the shame and the feeling of helplessness that had always surrounded food came flooding back.

When dinner time rolled around that evening (he knew it was dinner time because his stomach remembered), he felt Madelyn’s phantom breath on his neck and ignored the hunger. He crawled into his bed and tried forcing himself to sleep before his body could realise it was being deprived.

But god, he was just a needy, greedy little black hole of a creature, a sap on the world so long as you’re not fulfilling your duty, an insult to flesh and bone, nothing but darkness and hunger and waste and –

Shayne sat up in bed and squeezed his head between his hands. He’d gotten so used to Charlie’s constant presence and warmth, that he was already feeling unbearably lonely without him.

Stupid Charlie, he thought, feeling a flutter of affection in his chest as he pictured Charlie’s head resting on his shoulder. And then, a sinking feeling.

In the absence of Madelyn’s voice in his head, Shayne realised how… quiet everything else was. Ryan and Nancy were probably still travelling in Europe, but Elliott and Felix should have been here.

He’d half-expected Felix to come pounding on his door around this time, raving about whatever he was cooking and asking questions about Shayne’s Christmas. But the fact that the townhouse was this silent was extremely unpleasant.

Shayne let himself into the hallway, pausing and holding his breath, scanning for any signs of life. He could have done this easily if he’d been in a forest, but houses and urban settings were always trickier. He picked up a flash of something, a thrum of a heartbeat, but it sent his head spinning and he had to stop concentrating. It seemed to be coming from Elliott and Felix’s room, even though he hadn’t heard a single stir in there since he’d gotten home.

“Hello?” he asked softly, pushing the door open slowly.

He wasn’t surprised that it was cold in the bedroom beyond, but a breeze took him right in the face. Papers had been gently blown across the floor, and a vase holding a fake rose had been knocked from the windowsill onto the floor.

Nobody was in here. This wasn’t where he’d sensed somebody.

The view of the town was incredible from this height, four storeys up. It was around dusk, so there were lights blinking to life in houses and office buildings even as Shayne stood by the open window and rested his hands on the sill.

“Elliott?” he called out quietly, leaning his head outside. The distance from his face to the street below was dizzying.

“The fuck do you want?” came a curt reply, which made Shayne look to his right. The moulding on the outside of the building was about a metre wide, enough for Elliott to slump against the brick wall with a glass balanced on his knee and a bottle grasped in the opposite hand.

His hair was loose of its usual ponytail, as well as being greasy and dishevelled from having fingers constantly dragged through it. He was scraping it back with his left hand at that very moment, eyes glazed over as he looked up at the sky.

“When’d you get back?”

“Uh, today. Earlier.” Shayne could hear how high-pitched his voice had gotten, but what could he do about it? He couldn’t stop wondering how Elliott’s weight wasn’t forcing him to slink further down, legs pulling him over the edge. “El, what are you doing? Someone’s gonna see you out there.”

“So?” Elliott shrugged. “Maybe I’ll become a Reddit legend.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Shayne sighed. “What’re you doing out there? Are you okay?”

Elliott blinked, the motion slowed by the darkness and an unknown amount of whisky. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Shayne would have really preferred not to, but it didn’t look like Elliott was coming to him anytime soon. He turned around and sat up into the windowsill, slowly shifting his legs around so his feet touched the moulding. He breathed hard, tried not to look at the fall below, and told himself that if it could hold Elliott’s weight, it could hold his.

“You know, inside, there are floors and – and chairs,” he stammered, edging closer to Elliott before lowering himself to a seated position. He didn’t slump like Elliott though; his hands were pressing the concrete, stiff as pillars. “Lots of nicer and safer places to sit and drink whisky.”

“Mmph.”

The words barely seemed to reach Elliott’s ears.

“So, what’s up?” Shayne asked.

When Elliott smiled, it was a sick thing that twisted the lower half of his face without touching the rest. He looked past the rim of his glass and out across the town. Shayne wouldn’t have been surprised if his glare had caused a sudden flash of lightning to tear through the clouds.

The silence seemed to press in further, the sound of traffic fading away as though a bubble had descended on the rooftop.

“Where’s… Felix?” Shayne already had the feeling that the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“I don’t know.” Elliott pursed his lips. “Think he’s left me.”

A cold stone seemed to drop through Shayne’s stomach. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the equivalent of that felt like for Elliott. “What? Why?”

After a slight roll of his eyes, Elliott reached into the pocket of his trousers, fidgeting with something before pulling out a ring. He twirled it between his thumb and his figure, examining it up-close for a second before holding it out.

“Oh.” Shayne eyed the ring for a moment before reluctantly lifting one hand – one of his supportive pillars – and letting Elliott place it in his palm. “I take it he said no?”

“No, he didn’t say no. He didn’t say… anything.”

“Is that – is that better, or worse?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Sorry, El.” Shayne gulped and stared at the ring, only managing to hold onto it for a couple of seconds. Elliott had already taken his eyes off of it, his attention snagged by his drink again. A slight breeze across his skin made Shayne shudder, as though it could possibly throw him off balance. Mostly, it was just cold and unpleasant. “Here, take it back. I’m gonna drop it or something.”

“Why would you drop it?” Elliott asked with a grunt, reaching to pick up the ring. His fingertips lingered a moment as he realised how badly Shayne’s hand was trembling. “Fuck, man, are you okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne put his hand down next to him again, fingers aching under the pressure he was putting on them.

“What’s up?” Elliott scoffed lightly. “You gonna hurl?”

“Maybe,” Shayne admitted. “I’ve never been up this high before.”

“Jesus, you’re such a drama queen.” Elliott planted a hand down and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were as swift and graceful as a panther, even while drunk, and he seemed to tower unreasonably high over Shayne as he straightened his back and stretched his arms over his head. He almost reached the roof tiles that jutted out over the top floor. A strong gust of wind could probably have toppled him, especially considering how much whisky was probably flooding his system.

Elliott’s feet made a scraping sound on the concrete as he lowered his arms, laughing deep in his chest.

“Elliott, stop! Just sit the fuck down.”

“Why?” Elliott’s voice was no stronger than a breath. He closed his eyes for a worrying amount of time, his shoulders swaying slightly as his arms hung by his side like weights. “Would you care if I fell?”

Shayne got a sinking feeling, for what seemed like the hundredth time in ten minutes. “What kind of question is that?”

“Do you think I’d die, actually?” Elliott perked up again, unnervingly so. He opened his eyes and lifted his glass slightly. He craned his neck to look over the edge of the moulding. He hummed, like he was pondering whether he should buy a pair of shoes in black or in brown. “I’m fairly sure that fully-developed vampires can only die if they’re burned alive, but… I wonder how thoroughly that’s been tested.”

“Elliott –”

“I’ve had a decent run. In human years, I’m almost seventy, you know? That’s longer than a lot of people end up with…”

Shayne didn’t know if he should have been trying to grab Elliott to stop him from teetering so close to the edge, or if that would make everything worse. He could barely breathe, let alone think.

“It’d still fucking hurt either way, though.” Elliott threw back the last mouthful of his drink and smacked his lips. “Bones poking up through my organs, probably bits of me exploding on impact –”

“Elliott, seriously, you’re just being an asshole now, just sit down!”

“Would it make him come back, if I was injured like that?” Elliott demanded, his golden eyes piercing and intense. He was beginning to lapse into clumsy arm gestures, his voice rising higher with emotion. “Would it put everything into perspective, Shayne? Would it fix everyone’s problems if I was maimed? Or if I was completely and utterly de–?”

Shayne’s stomach turned, his hands flying to his face, as the whisky glass shuddered and dropped out of Elliott’s hand. It disappeared from view, faster than the sick grin could fall from Elliott’s face.

The shatter was tiny; Shayne had to really strain his ears to hear it. He watched Elliott blink tears down his face and slowly lower himself to his haunches. He opened his mouth wide, like he was going to scream, but no sound came out.

“Hey,” Shayne whispered, letting go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He stretched out one hand, trying to gently catch Elliott’s attention. “El. Elliott.”

Elliott didn’t move. He stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the moulding, his face hovering over the side. When he blinked, tears fell and missed the building completely, dropping straight to the sidewalk that was four storeys down.

“El, come on.”

All the way down to the sidewalk –

“Elliott.”

He turned his head, swaying a little, and for a moment Shayne thought that was it, that he was gone, he’d lost his balance. Shayne sat forward on his heels, instinctively making an uncalculated grab for his cousin’s hand, but luckily Elliott was reaching back too; two fumbling hands happened to fumble in the right directions at the right time.

“Fuck,” Elliott whimpered, steadying himself on his feet again. Shayne could feel both their pulses in their joined hands, Elliott’s almost explosive. “We should… We should probably get off this thing.”

“Oh, you think?” Shayne snapped, though he clung to Elliott’s hand like a toddler to a parent as the two of them edged back over towards the window. He hopped in through the window first, turning to make sure Elliott was following him. The taller man hit his head on the open window, making the frame shudder as he shut his eyes and winced.

“Shit, are you okay?” Shayne held out a hand to help him make it the rest of the way.

“I’m fine, get off me,” Elliott growled, shoving Shayne away from him and storming over to the bed.

“Fuck heights,” Shayne murmured, pulling the window shut with more force than was probably necessary. It released some of the fear that had been pinching his nerves though, and his head felt clearer. “We should probably go down to the street and clean that glass up before someone –”

“Shut up.”

Shayne shrugged, gazing at Elliott as he sat at the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands. “Is – is your head okay, or –?”

“What’d I just say?”

“You said to shut up, but how the fuck do you expect me not to ask you if you’re okay? You almost fell off the fucking… roof!” Shayne smacked his hand on the bedpost as he walked by, partially on purpose. “Fuck you, Elliott.”

“Calm down, man,” Elliott snarled, his head shooting up from his hands. “Come on, you seriously think that’s the closest I’ve ever come to dying?”

“You can’t…” Shayne stopped by the door to the hallway, eyes lowered. “You can’t do shit like that, you can’t talk like that. I don’t care if he’s left you, if the world’s falling to shit, if you think nobody cares about you being around, you can’t…”

A sob broke the air, and Shayne froze, turning to watch as Elliott hunched over at the edge of the bed, his head ducking and disappearing from his silhouette.

“I’m… sorry.”

Having never heard such a heart-wrenching sound from Elliott before, Shayne found himself hurrying back to the bed. He sat down next to Elliott and let him sink his head against his shoulder and cry, his body convulsing with what seemed to be days’ worth of pent-up agony and sadness. Shayne felt utterly useless; he couldn’t guarantee that everything would be alright with Felix, because how the hell could he possibly know that?

“Ugh, fuck,” Elliott exclaimed, his shoulders jerking forward with a sob so deep that it sounded more like a hiccup. He clamped a hand over his mouth, the other lifting to tentatively cover the front of his head, where he’d hit it on the window.

“You okay, man?” Shayne asked hoarsely.

Elliott shook his head, face paling even in the dull light.

“You gonna hurl?” Shayne murmured, wondering if the irony would be lost on Elliott in his current state. He was already getting to his feet, remembering that Felix kept a metal bin under his desk.

“Mmmph.” Elliott nodded furiously, only releasing his mouth from his hand once Shayne had thrust the bin at him. Saliva glistened on his lips as he hovered, breathing heavily. His eyes were red and swollen and he was still gently kneading his head.

A deep retch rolled his shoulders and made him duck his head further into the bin. Shayne grimaced and almost put a hand on Elliott’s shoulder before remembering that that would have been a terrible idea. He stood by the desk instead, arms folded around his waist, flinching in time with Elliott’s horrifying gagging.

When Elliott’s face resurfaced, he was gasping and spitting out mouthfuls of thick bile and saliva, tinged only slightly with the golden hue of the heavy liquor.

“Jesus,” he choked out. “How hard did I hit my head?”

After a disbelieving glance towards the window, Shayne scoffed. “Your head? What about the god-knows-how-much whisky in your system right now?”

“Alright, whatever,” Elliott groaned. He pawed at a thick strand of his hair that was stuck to the side of his face and trailing into the bin itself, tossing it over his shoulder. Just in time too, since the next retch was deep and abrupt and dragged a rumbling belch up alongside a gush of foamy alcohol and stomach acid.

Between gags, Elliott let thick liquid drip from his mouth into the bin, body shivering with the effort it took to bring everything up. It went on for so long that Shayne was certain Elliott was going to fall asleep with his head in the bin.

Eventually, Elliott sat upright, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and dragging it across the lower half of his face. He tossed it into the bin and reached for another one.

“Want me to get you some water? Or, like, blood?”

“No.” Elliott sighed deeply, dropping the second tissue into the bin before he began to scoop his hair back from his face and neck. “I’ve been drinking on an empty stomach for two days. I wanna go get chips.”

“Chips?”

“Yes. Can you grab one of Felix’s scrunchies from his side?”

Shayne did as he was asked, mostly in a daze, rounding the bed to get to Felix’s bedside locker. There was a pile of hair ties sitting alongside a handheld cassette player.

“Can you even eat?” Shayne asked, leaning across the bed to hand one of the hair ties to Elliott. “You know, with all of your full-vampire shit going on?”

“Seriously, you little asshole?” Elliott snapped, his voice scratchy and weak. “My life is falling down around me and you’re trying to deny me chips?”

Shayne quickly shook his head, a little bit grateful for the bloodcurdling glare that Elliott was currently treating him to. He got up from the bed again as Elliott tended to his hair. “Let me just grab a jacket.”

#idk how I originally wanted it to end but I can't look at it anymore #Swallow the World #StW Thicker than Blood #vampire emeto #emeto #emeto fic #emeto sickfic #angst fic #angst #death mention #death ideation mention #alcohol #alcohol mention

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