#I’m sure I could be annoying as a child (that is human nature) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cozymoko · 2 years ago

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Welcome back I was wonder if you could do a platonic yandere mukami's/sakamaki x like 13 y/o human sib that's yuis sibling and they're just like this is mine now

STEALING YUI'S SIBLING — PLATONIC YANDERE SAKAMAKIS

Note: Thank you.

Pairing: Platonic! Sakamaki brothers (separate) x gn! reader

Format: Headcanons

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, unhealthy, not proofread

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

SHU SAKAMAKI

Shu could not remember when he had grown so fond of you. A mortal sibling of hers, nonetheless. Shu his ponder his tenderness toward you, as there was nothing truly riveting about you on the surface. In his mind, you were a child and nothing more. An annoying, human child who can't help but stick close to its twice as annoying sister. But somehow your childishness weaseled its way into his cold heart.

He found his actions quite humorous, much like right now. Long, slender fingers glided along the pianos' smooth keys in fluid motions as though it was second nature. You rocked back and forth to the music, silently cheering for the vampire. A cold hand was placed on your head after the last keys were brushed, and instinctively you look to the culprit. Shu snorted, gazing back into your round eyes. It's decided, he will watch over your forever.

“Another one? Haah, just how needy can you be? Sit back down, I didn't say I wouldn't do it. Now, listen closely and try to keep up.”

REIJI SAKAMAKI

As a companion of the sacrificial bride, Reiji believes it's only fair that he treats you with the same respect he gives your sister. Which may or not be good or bad, it's a mere matter of opinion. Reji makes sure you are well-fed and up to date on all your homework and other responsibilities as asked of him. He initially had no desire to do anything more. But when proposed such innocent curiosity about his "work" how could he deny you?

Reiji often tasks you with lengthy assignments to ensure you don’t grow too close to others in the manor. It’s truly a shame that you happen to be the sibling of Yui, he’d much rather take her place if the opportunity presented itself. To say he’s a little envious of how reliant you are on the mortal woman is an understatement. Seething with envy would be a better description. Just put all your trust in him and perhaps he'll become more lenient with you!

“Have you completed all your duties for today? Not yet...I see. Do not deter from your responsibilities like that frivolous sister of yours, you have far more potential than you think."

AYATO SAKAMAKI

Unlike the others, Ayato is very easy to please. A few shots to his ego will do just the trick. Even as a juvenile, the vampire was very weak to praise; but when it comes from a kid it makes him swell with pride because ultimately, kids don't lie. Don't be surprised if he looks to you for validation at times, not even you are safe from his evolving ego.

When was the last time you hung out with Yui? Geez, you could not recall. Most of your days were spent with Ayato, busying yourself with whatever caught your attention. However, everything had its ups and downs. Every time you didn't acknowledge him, he'd throw a fit, demanding to know who could possibly replace him. Or even pestering you about the time you spent with his brothers instead of him. But who were you to complain? Free Takoyaki for you.

“The hell’re you talkin’ about him for? You’re in the presence of ‘yours truly’ so start actin’ like it. Tch, I’m better than all of them anyways!”

KANATO SAKAMAKI

Loud, whiny humans do not interest him in the slightest; and that's exactly what kids are. But you were different. You were somewhat whiny, like any young teenager, but not to an overwhelming extent. With your age you had the potential to be the perfect doll, and Kanato wasn't going to let such a perfect opportunity slip through his fingers.

You glared daggers at the back of Kanato's head in hopes of evoking a reaction. Your body was tightly constrained by these horrid fabrics many called clothes. Kanato, of course, paid you no mind, ruffling through the array of clothing he had designed just for you. You scowled at his blatant ignorance, tempted to strip the intricate fabrics that hindered you, but you refrained from doing so. After all, Kanato wasn't being too insufferable at the moment.

“Don’t move or you’ll rip it! You wouldn't want all my hard work to go to waste, would you? Fufu, good, now stand still and wait for me to finish.”

LAITO SAKAMAKI

Since the beginning, Laito had always been kind to you, though it wasn't always genuine. He only had an interest in your sister thus a middle schooler had hardly captured his attention. But you were different, somehow. Before he knew it, Laito was listening to you ramble about your day. Even sharing some meaningless advice, that you could've honestly gone without, solely to get a reaction out of you.

The sun had just barely met the horizon, signaling morning was upon you. Your cheek was pressed flat against the vampire's lean back, dazed and hardly awake. His hands were gently hooked under your legs as he busied himself with a heedless tune. Your snores brought him comfort, though they were loud. He should honestly thank you for your existence because for once, Laito finally felt like an older brother.

“My, what a heavy sleeper. Dragging me all the way out here just to be carried home. How cute~! I hope you don't rely on the others like this.”

SUBARU SAKAMAKI

It's likely that you somehow took interest in this ill-tempered vampire so you decided to tag along with him. Subaru was charged as your guardian and he was anything but pleased. Nonetheless, he did his job, from picking you up from school to treating you to your favorite cafes. Even growing rather protective along the way. At this point, he's more of your brother than Yui is your sister! One could even say he's arguably calmer than before you arrived.

You stood outside the school doors, waiting patiently for someone, anyone's arrival. The weather was especially chilly that day, nipping at the tips of your fingers. As if someone read your mind, a familiar man with ashen-colored hair was coming your way. His arms snaked protectively around your shoulders as he lightly tugged you to his chest. His heart was pounding at an alarming rate as he quietly sighed in relief. And despite the coolness of his touch, you were warm. Happy and oh so very warm.

“Oi, where's the kid? Ha, what do you mean 'at school' who dropped 'em off? That's my job damnit—! Tch, forget it; dont even think about pickin' 'em up either, I'll do it. ”

#—🍁#i hate tumblr #x reader #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers imagines #diabolik lovers scenarios #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #diabolik lovers #diaboys

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lykegenia · 1 year ago

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So something has been bugging me for a while now about A and N’s backstories, and while I know not everyone will be as pedantic as me, as someone who loves history and has done a lot of writing, I feel that if you’re going to write a story about vampires and give them a specific time and date of origin, then there should be a certain level of research that goes into making that background authentic. I'm not saying that Mishka didn’t do any research. It just seems that in order to keep the vibe of a happy, mellow fantasy some of the less savoury aspects of A and N’s upbringings have been left out, and it's a shame. To be honest, it feels a bit disingenuous, and it feels like an opportunity got wasted.

Let me explain (long post got long, it's 2am)

Let's take A first, since the problem is simpler here.

A is the child of a Norman lord and an Anglo-Saxon noblewoman, born in the first generation after the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. A says that these were turbulent times but that their parents had a happy marriage. Which. While I’m sure a lot of unions in that time period made the best of it, I can’t help but feel this description strips away a lot of the context of what was going on at that point in history - and removes some of the complexity about A’s thoughts on love and relationships.

Basically, after he took control of the throne, William the Conqueror stripped many Anglo-Saxon lords of their lands and titles so he could give them to his Norman buddies instead - with the added bonus that it left the Anglo-Saxons without the means to raise armies against him. The sisters, daughters, and widows of the dispossessed Anglo-Saxons were then forced to marry these new Norman lords to legitimise their power, not infrequently after all of their male relatives had been slaughtered. It’s not as if Anglo-Saxon women weren’t used to being used as political chess pieces, but the years after the conquest were brutal. It’s why William had to build so many castles. The point that I’m trying to make is that even if A’s mother was content enough in her daily life, due to the power imbalance between her and her husband, it's very likely she had little choice in the matter. She may have seen a lot of her family killed for political reasons, with the knowledge that – in an age where women had very little protection outside of their paternal household – she might be next if she made too much of a fuss.

It would be fascinating to see what effect that tension has had on A 900 years later, or even to get an acknowledgement of how much times have changed, but we don’t. We don't see how their early years affected them, how they view relationships formed naturally instead of via political contracts. And I really, really wish we did. There is so much potential there.

But A is not the one keeping me up past 2 in the morning. It’s N, and the utter detachment their backstory seems to have from the period in history they lived in as a human. And it all stems from the fact that they came from the English nobility in the late 1600s.

See, the bulk of the problem is that English inheritance law at the time heavily favoured primogeniture, where a man’s wealth would go to his first-born son. Some dispensation was made for widows and other children, but the estates, assets, and most of the money had a very clear destination.

For one thing, this makes it kinda weird that N’s stepfather would have needed an heir before he could inherit, because except in extreme circumstances everything would have gone to him anyway. Don't get me wrong, this isn't the worst part of the problem, it’s just annoying when there are more plausible reasons for him marrying a woman already pregnant with another man’s child (old family friend wanting to save her from disgrace, needed the dowry to pay off gambling debts, there was a longstanding betrothal between them that would have been tricky to get out of, etc.).

No, the bigger problem with N’s backstory vs primogeniture is firstly that at the time the English aristocracy was racist af (still is tbh) and given his pretty obvious mixed-race heritage, no court would have agreed that Nate was a legitimate son (this is for a very special reason that we will be coming back to). I say Nate specifically here because primogeniture requires the eldest legitimate son. Nat wouldn’t have inherited at all, as women in that period passed from the guardianship of their father (or other male blood relative) into that of their husband after marriage, and only gained any kind of independence with widowhood. If N had been an only child, maybe they would have been treated as a special case, but unfortunately Milton exists: the eldest legitimate son who by law will inherit everything.

Now here’s the thing. Your average aristocrat in the 17th century is very obsessed with lineage and keeping the family line unbroken. He would not, therefore, send his legitimate heir to sea to be shot at or drowned before he can carry on the family name – that joy instead goes to any other sons who need their own profession, because again, they will get very little. Nat would have had a dowry, but would never have been expected to make her own living, so I'm going to focuson Nate for this next bit.

In Book 3, if you unlock his tragic backstory Nate tells you he joined the Royal Navy after Milton went missing so that he could go look for him. And, well. This is where his backstory as Mishka tells it completely falls apart. For two reasons:

1. Even in the modern day, you can’t ‘just’ join the Navy, and you certainly can’t just jump straight to being a lieutenant – it takes years of training and after a certain age they won’t take you because they won’t be able to mould you easily enough into a useful tool. For most of the Navy's history, the process was even more involved. It wasn’t an office job you could just rock up to and then quit if you felt like it, it was a lifetime commitment. Boys destined to be officers would be sent to sea as early as 12 to learn shipboard life, starting at the bottom and moving up the ranks. These were gained by passing exams and by purchasing a commission – which is why you generally had to come from wealth to be an officer at all. Once you get to lieutenant you're responsible for a lot of people, and might be tasked with commanding any captured ships alongside the daily running of yours - it was not an easy job.

2. Even as a lieutenant (one rank below Captain, with varying levels of seniority) it’s not like you can just go where you want. In the 1720s British colonies already existed in India, the Caribbean, and up the entire eastern seaboard of North America and into Canada, and the Navy was tasked with protecting merchant shipping along these seaways (and one trade in particular that we’ll be getting to, don’t worry). Nate could have ended up practically anywhere in the burgeoning empire. He would not have been able to choose whom he served under, and would not have been able to demand his superior officer go against orders from the admirality to chase down one lone vessel because he thinks another one of the admirals might be a bit dodgy. It could not have happened.

Besides these impracticalities, there’s a far easier way for the child of a wealthy man to get to a specific point on the far side of the globe to look for their lost sibling, which is the route I assume Nat took sine she couldn’t have joined the Navy (yes she could have snuck in but she’s specifically in a dress in the B2 mirror scene so). All they'd have to do would be to charter a ship and tell the captain where to go, which is the plot of Treasure Island. It's quicker, less fuss, with less chance of things going wrong. It's even possible in the age of mercantilism that the Sewells had some merchant vessels among their holdings that could be diverted for the task. Why go through the hassle of joining the Navy and potentially ending up on the wrong side of the world when you can just hire a ship directly?

If Nate does have to be in the Navy (and let’s face it, it’s worth it just for the uniform) then it's far more plausible is that, as the illegitimate son who would not inherit because of racism etc, he got sent to the Navy as a boy and rose through the ranks to become a lieutenant. When he got news of Milton’s disappearance not far from where he was stationed, he begged his captain to go investigate in case whatever happened turned out to be the symptom of a bigger problem. Like pirates.

I like this version better not just because it makes more sense, or because it keeps Nate’s situation re: inheritance closer to Nat’s and therefore makes their stories more equal, but also because it adds a delicious amount of guilt to Nate’s need to find his brother. We know his entire crew died looking for answers, because he was selfish – that’s roughly 100-400 lives lost because of him, and we know that sort of thing eats at him.

So that's one side of the story, but if Milton wasn’t in the Navy, what was he doing on the other side of the Atlantic in the first place? Well, this is where we come to the biggest elephant in the room regarding N’s backstory as a member of the 17th century English aristocracy and potentially as a naval officer: the Atlantic Slave Trade. If you are wealthy in 17th century Britain it's more than likely that your wealth comes either from the trade itself, or from the products made with the labour of enslaved people. If you are wealthy, you want to protect your assets from attack by pirates or foreign powers so you don't become less wealthy, and that is what the Navy is for.

Regardless of N’s own views on slavery at the time – and any subsequent changes in opinion – it’s likely their family owned or had shares in slave plantations in the Americas. As distasteful as it is, it makes far more sense that Milton was on a trip to check the family’s holdings when his ship - specifically a merchant vessel - went missing. From a pirate perspective, a merchant ship would make a much better target than a Navy vessel, being slower, more likely to have valuable cargo, and less likely to have marines or a well-trained broadside.

It's not surprising that Mishka left out the subject of the slave trade given her tendency to skirt around darker subjects and general blindspot for racial politics, but it is nuance that, if it was there, would create a more grounded and coherent backstory for N that doesn’t have quite so many holes. Like with A being the child of an invader and his war bride, we could get some deeper thoughts from N about their place in the world - How do they feel to have grown up so privileged when others who looked like them were regarded as literal property? How did they feel being part of the system that made it happen? Did it inform their compassionate nature? Is it still a source of guilt or someithng they've tried to make up for?

I'm not sure where I was going with all of this. It's late, my sleep pattern is fucked. The tl;dr is that giving the vampires' backstories historical context would make them feel more multifaceted and would give opportunities for character growth that are instead missed because of a desire for a more sanitized version of the past.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #a du mortain #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #n sewell #nate sewell #nat sewell #it's annoying because it’s such a small tweak in the grand scheme of things #If she didn’t want unfortunate implications she could have made N from a century later when the navy was actively trying to stop slavery #A could have been from a 50 years earlier to tie his whole family’s demise into the subjugation of the english after the battle of hastings #or a century later when the two courts had mostly integrated #mishka made choices #they deserve to be given more substance than mere aesthetics #you can tell it’s late I’m using long words

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

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Hello!

Do you take request??

If you do, can i request a reader who can mimic people's voices?

With rook, riddle, the tweels and any character you like!

MC who can mimic voices feat: Riddle · Rook · Floyd · Jade genre: mild fluff note: gn!reader, no pronouns used with reader, unspecified relationships,

I might be too outdated to understand that. I'm so sorry ^_^"

I typically just do up to four characters in a post so it's just the requested ones :)

At first he wasn’t impressed. I’m sure that there’s a spell that can alter someone’s voice to change or mimic someone else (like Floyd’s deep voice in Book 4). But, when he found out that was your own talent was when he realized how impressive that actually was.

Being the son of well-owned physicians, he’s fascinated by your capabilities as you showed how you mimic voices he thought were beyond your assumed range. He watched you in awe as you parroted the voices of your friends, chuckling when you matched their mannerisms (it’s uncanny how you could match Ace’s voice while giving off that mischievous aura of his)

You smiled at Riddle looking so giddy with your vocal skills, like a child visiting a performance for the first time (you kept that thought to yourself though).

Like the Housewarden he is however, he does warn you to not use your skills for any pranks on campus. He doesn’t want to see you get in trouble for mimicking someone and scaring someone you shouldn’t be. Definitely do not mimic his voice or it’s definitely off with your head.

"I see the fruits of your effort. Some students could learn from you"

He’s definitely fascinated by your talents. He’s intrigued by your vocal prowess and if your mimicry is perfect enough to trump his recognition abilities, he’s absolutely floored by you. To think someone may be able to trick this huntsman, what a tricky lyrebird you are.

Rook wants to observe you as you speak, he loves seeing the way you reach vocal capabilities that few can do. He watches your lips, your throat, your diaphragm, completely enamored by your voice

With your consent, he would like to see the limits of your skills. How well can you mimic animals? How about vibrating noises? How loud can you go with a certain voice or how high?

Be sure to tell him you need a break because you have piqued the hunter’s curiosity. In all honesty, he could probably listen to you for hours, be it your acts of mimicry or simply your natural voice.

“Marveilluex! How exciting it is to hone one's craft.”

You went ahead and showed Floyd something fun. Good luck to you.

Floyd is going to have a field day with you and your skills, asking you to copy his voice, Jade’s, Azul’s, Riddle’s, everyone. He might even pull up videos of random people to see if you mimic voices from a video. He wants to see how high you can go or how low. This man is giving off “kid in a candy store” energy

Like with Rook, be sure to tell Floyd when you need a break. Also feel free to decline his requests, especially when he asks you to say embarrassing things in Azul’s voice for him to record on his smartphone.

He would absolutely bug you to teach him your talents. If you choose to help him learn, you just created the most annoying thing on NRC for a few days before Floyd eventually gets bored.

If you choose not to, Floyd will get pouty and would probably bug you for a while until you either give him or give him a good enough reason. He will still ask you to keep mimicking voices for the fun of it.

“Whoa, how did you do that? Do that again!”

Color him curious, that is an unexpected talent you have there.

Sound travels differently in water so seeing this skill is very intriguing to Jade, reminding him of those mimicking birds or seals he’s read in books before coming to NRC. To realize a human is capable of such abilities is a delightful surprise to him.

A recurring pattern, Jade would also ask you to demonstrate your vocal range to him. He observes the way your voice reaches what was assumed to be ranges beyond you and pitches unlike your typical tone. It was very entertaining to watch.

Jade wishes to talk more about your skills, how did you perfect your skills? Does it put a strain on your vocal chords? How long can you maintain a voice different from your own?

This new discovery strikes Jade’s fancy. He can’t help but to compare you to the legendary sirens, of how they entice those who stray too close to them with their voices.

“I keep finding myself surprised by the surface land. What an intriguing person you are”

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #rook hunt #rook x reader #floyd leech #floyd x reader #jade leech #jade x reader

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random-autie-fangirl · 3 months ago

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The idea of Frisk and Chara being opposites (and providing opposite choices)

You know, back when I wasn't really sure what to do with Frisk, trying to define them in opposition to Chara helped a lot.

If Chara is serious, then Frisk is silly

If Chara's a bit of an edgelord then Frisk is bubbly and cheerful. (Remember Frisk making a smiley face with the punchcards and Chara saying “happiness is fleeting” when you take them out.

If Chara is impatient and tries to be as efficient as possible, then Frisk is more willing to "waste time", having fun and hanging out with their new underground friends.

(It's easy to imagine some of what Frisk can do as almost deliberate antagonism, the Narrator is harsh and cold and snobby so Frisk starts having fun trying to rile them up. I mean why else would they start checking literally everything in sight when they know the Narrator’s so impatient lol)

If Chara is strict and bossy, Frisk is perhaps a little rebellious, a little contrarian, and employs the philosophy of "you can do whatever you want forever" even if it annoys spoilsports like Chara…especially if it annoys spoilsports like Chara.

If Chara tries to be formal and polite, calm and distant, perhaps has internalised the idea that "children should be seen and not heard" from the surface, then Frisk is more rowdy, teasing and loud, but undeniably warm and friendly.

If Chara is hypervigilant and perhaps a little cowardly (with the running away text), then Frisk is the stupidly fearless one.

If I’m right about Chara not really wanting to forgive him, then that means forgiving Asriel was always Frisk’s preferred choice.

If Chara is the academically gifted one and the teacher's pet(because of the wordiness), then Frisk struggles with school and is easily bored by it and thus spends schooltime goofing off and making trouble with Flowey (or coming up with ways to skip…with Flowey).

Chara’s a voracious reader but Frisk can’t read very well at all, and they certainly don’t enjoy it, they see anything longer than a paragraph or two and check out. Since I think that Chara is both pretty proud of both their role in the prophecy and their status as royalty (but keeping up their high self esteem is incredibly dependent on others validation lest they crash down to nothing), to me that means Frisk is much more naturally and stably self confident. …If Chara is easily embarrassed, and cares far too much about everyone seeing them as perfect then it's Frisk who is shameless, and doesn't care what others really think… which is why they can dance in public, and flirt with strangers, and dress like a human rainbow.

And we know that Chara apparently hated the power of determination and wanted to get rid of it "that power… that's the power you were trying to stop, isn't it?" and had a save file they never used, which probably means they could have reset after the buttercup plan and saved both themselves and Asriel and just…chose not to… But Frisk, on the other hand is the most determined child in the Underground and the only one not to eventually willingly give up against Asgore (since every human could reset)

It’s because of this that I can pretend those few moments of Frisk seemingly showing annoyance with our actions is actually Chara being annoyed with Frisk. Because Frisk chooses the soda that Chara describes as “sickly” and CHARA scrunches up their nose or Chara making Frisk drag their feet when Frisk WANTS to look at stuff in the creepy lab. It's probably Frisk telling Chara not to be such a scaredy cat in that moment.

So yeah…defined in opposition, it helps with characterization, and works as an alternative to player theory (even if that's canon now)

#undertale #frisk the human #chara dreemurr #hey look! I did a thing #frisk the skeleton #frisk and chara #determined kiddo!#what a strange child...#brotp: hero and the narrator

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i-am-baechu · 11 months ago

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♡ Summary: New Year's Eve and being invited to a party isn’t the craziest thing to hear. What's crazy to hear is getting invited to a party and meeting Idols at that same party. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment.

♡ Pairing: Fan girl! Reader x ot7!

♡ Rating: Pg - 14

♡ Genre: Fluff, little romance, kind of crack lol and just pure happiness!

♡ Authors Note: HAPPY NEW YEARS! I can’t believe it's the new year, it feels weird saying 2024. Have a safe New Year!

Working as a supervisor didn’t fulfill life like how L/N Y/N thought it would as a child. She still gets yelled at by her manager about things she didn’t do and she still has to deal with annoying customers. It was the normal life of a person in their late twenties. It also sucked that she lived with her parents because rent was ridiculously high. New Year's Eve was the start of something different.

Every New Year’s Eve, she would spend it with her family drinking apple cider as they watched the ball drop. This year, her friends wanted to do it differently. One of her friends, Allison, was invited to a party. She didn’t ask how she got the invite but she was grateful that she was going. At first, Y/N didn’t want to go but her mother told her that a twenty-five-year-old should be out with friends having fun.

“All you do is work, Y/N. You deserve to have fun.”

Looking for a dress was harder than she thought. To be more specific, a party dress. As sad as it sounds, Y/N has never been to a club. The one time she was going to go something came up and she had to change her plans. She picked out a simple beige dress that went off her shoulders. It was simple but she had cute retro flower earrings that had smiling faces on them. It was perfect for her.

Allison was an introvert but she could be extroverted when she wanted to be, Alica was an introvert and hated everyone, and Y/N was the type of person to introduce herself to someone new because she would feel guilty if she didn’t. The perfect friend group on New Year's Eve.

Y/N was sitting outside away from the music with her vodka in her hand. She was dancing with her friends but the music was too loud and it was starting to bother her. She had to take a quick breather outside. The beats from the music were loud enough to make the floor vibrant, it was giving her a headache. The night sky was cold enough to make bumps appear on her skin but the alcohol in her system was keeping her warm.

“It’s cold isn’t it?”

She turned her head at the unknown voice and her mouth dropped. Why the fuck was Park Jimin talking to her? She blinked her eyes and shook her head gently because there was no way this was happening. When she opened them back up she saw Jimin looking at them with his signature smile that made millions melt, she was one of them.

“Ye-Yeah, it’s cold. Like it's really cold...you can get goosebumps with how cold it is. Which makes sense because it's the natural human response but that's beside the point.” Jimin let out a small laugh and nodded his head. He pulled a chair to sit next to her and she looked around to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She looked at him with squinted eyes and leaned forward a bit. He watched her with a raised eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She put her hand out and touched his chest, “Holy shit...you're real.”

“Yes?”

She pulled her hand back and bowed her head at him, “Sorry...I didn’t mean to say that out loud or touch you without asking...That’s bad of me. I’m sorry.”

Jimin let out a laugh and leaned back in his chair, “It's fine...I thought it was funny.”

She took a sip of her vodka and nodded her head, “So why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you're an idol. You know, famous and rich...very rich. Why are you at this simple party?”

“Because I made him come here.”

She turned her head and again her mouth dropped. Kim Taehyung was staring at her with a smirk on his face, “Ho-Holy shit.”

“Well, he invented all of us here.”

She looked past Taehyung and saw the rest of Bts looking at her with smiles on their faces. She nodded her head and stood up from her chair slowly. She walked towards the edge and leaned against the edge, “What the fuck is happening?”

She heard a laugh and she turned around to see Jimin giving her a comforting smile, “We just wanted a break from the loudness in there.”

She nodded her head and sat back in her chair but she turned her body towards everyone, “Well...welcome to the party. I mean the party has been going on for a while now but hi my name is Y/N...I didn’t see you but if I did I would’ve introduced myself...I think I would?”

“I’m glad I can finally put a name on your pretty face, Y/N.”

She tilted her head at Jimin and squinted her eyes at him, “Huh?”

Jungkook let out a loud laugh and took a sip of his beer, “I like her, she's funny.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and looked at Y/N with a welcoming smile, “Hello Y/N. I’m glad we can have someone new this evening for New Year’s Eve.”

Jin took his phone out and the light from his phone lit his face up. Y/N just stared at him in awe, “It’s about midnight. We should go to the edge.”

She pushed some hair behind her ear because she needed to touch reality somehow. Hoseok leaned forward and pointed at her earrings, “I like your earrings. It looks like this sweater I have.”

“They were three dollars. I was so excited to buy them.”

Yoongi glanced inside and looked back at her, “We should go do the countdown.”

“It's going to be loud...”

Jimin watched her cringed and nodded his head, “We should stay out here. There’s that big screen that has the countdown. We can do it together with our new friend.”

“Fr-Friend!?”

Jin nodded his head and pointed at the screen, “It’s starting! Let’s go before we miss it!”

They all made their way towards the edge except for Jimin. He smiled at her and put his hand out for her, causing her to look up with confusion, “Let’s go see the countdown together.”

She glanced at his hand and then at his face, “Su-Sure...”

She placed her hand into his and he pulled her up causing her to hit his chest. Her eyes widened at the action and he smirked at her, “I would love to welcome the new year with someone as pretty as you.”

“Likewise...?”

He let out a laugh and they walked towards the edge with the others. Jungkook wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a bunny smile, “10!”

“9”

“8”

She looked at the screen and she couldn’t believe that the new year was happening. It didn’t feel like this year she accomplished much but her friends and family would disagree. Usually, for the New Years, she would feel depressed. This year it was different. She was hoping for something new.

“3”

“2”

“1”

“HAPPY NEW YEARS!!”

Jimin turned towards and placed a quick kiss on her cheek, “Does that prove I’m real?”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts hosoek #Bts

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 2 years ago

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I would like to request A gender neutral reader being a half titan (Greek myth titans) half mortal whose father is Oceanus (Because it only makes sense) and the ror universe greek gods being surprised about the fact that the reader is human looking and human sized despite their their father being a titan. Greek Gods Only please. (I.e. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hermes And Ares and/or Heracles)

It would be fun to see their reactions.

And Crossover is Heavily Implied But No Crossover here, Please.

How They knew and met is entirely up to your choosing.

-When it was revealed that there was a child of a Titan still out there in the world, the gods, naturally, panicked!!!

-Zeus was immediately giving out orders for this Titan child to be found, worrying about another uprising, wanting this to be dealt with immediately!

-They were not expecting their target to be brought in by Aphrodite, walking alongside her, about the same height, and looked basically like a normal human, except you had blue hair that was dark in some spots and lighter in others, like the ocean.

-You weren’t really sure why you were being called by the gods, as you’ve spent most of your life lounging on a beautiful tropical island you had converted into a massive luxury resort.

-Zeus looked up at you, his eyes wide, “This is the child of Oceanus?!” you grinned warmly down at him, “Hi there! That’s right, he’s my dad! I’m Y/N!”

-You were totally not what they were expecting, even Aphrodite, who had found you on accident, was stunned that you looked so… unlike your Titan father.

-Hades then spoke to you, his tone even but not unkind, “If you’re Oceanus’ child, why are you normal sized like the rest of us?”

-You shrugged your shoulders, “Not completely sure myself- oh wait- I know why! It’s because I’m only a demi-god, mom was a human!”

-That wouldn’t completely explain things, but they weren’t going to bother with it at the moment.

-Poseidon was rather leery of you, worried you were going to try to take over the oceans to avenge your father.

-You were immediately laughing, holding your sides as he scowled, looking rather annoyed before you gave him a grin, “Why would I want to do that when I have my resort to keep me busy?”

-This…did make sense, and Zeus was the first to apologize to you but you weren’t bothered, actually extending an offer to them to visit your resort!

-Zeus- He was instantly like your best friend, he was so funny and enjoyed as many activities he could at the resort, from partaking at the different restaurants and bars, learning to dance, you taught him how to surf yourself, at least the simple stuff. You were definitely nothing like the other titans he faced in the past, you were so much fun! He quickly joined your rewards program and was at the resort at least once a month.

-Poseidon- Watched you the closest while at your resort, which was very beautiful and you took cleanliness very seriously, not allowing any pollution from your resort to taint the beaches or oceans, and you were a constant diver in the ocean around your island, making sure there was nothing bad to disturb the reef or the wildlife. He relaxed after a few days, enjoying hard liquor as he floated in the lazy river pool that wrapped around your whole island.

-Hades- Was annoyed that he spent most of his time at the resort asleep, sleeping in his bed, sleeping in a poolside cabana, sleeping on the warm sandy beaches. He felt like he didn’t get a chance to experience all your resort had to offer, but he did feel extremely relaxed. Hades booked his next vacation as they were getting ready to leave. You were no threat; he was quick to realize this.

-Hermes- The resort was so beautiful! Hermes spent days exploring, from the resort to the beaches, scuba diving with you to see the reefs, and even the jungle that had a footpath the whole way through. He had no idea this place was even here! It was so relaxing and peaceful, he could easily tell that you were nothing like other titans, you were way too chill. He did however, enjoying watching you teach Ares how to scuba dive while he sat on the beach with a massive fruity-boozy beverage.

-Ares- Was hesitant and rather distrustful of you, thinking you were an evil titan like all the others. You were very quick to prove him wrong, given them all free reign of the resort, they could eat, drink, and have as much fun as they wanted! Ares, after a bit of goading from Hermes and Zeus, managed to convince him to go scuba diving, but only if you taught him. Ares found the experience different but eye-opening, although he didn’t like his father and half-brother teasing him afterwards.

-Hercules- You two were like you had been separated at birth, almost constantly together, getting along so easily with each other. He loved your resort, especially the options of food available from the six restaurants and nine bars, all with vastly different menus. He also enjoyed exploring through your jungle, seeing the signs you had put out, showing different landmarks. It felt so good to just be able to lay down, bury his feet in the warm sand, and relax the days away.

-Aphrodite- Was in heaven at your resort, taking full advantage of the spas, pools, and drinks offered; she spent her whole time there being pampered and treated like the goddess she was. You were definitely not a threat, despite your lineage, and she will not hesitate to defend her new favorite resort owner from others.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror hades #ror heracles #ror aphrodite #ror zeus #ror ares #ror hermes

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nelida-alvarez · 9 months ago

Text

Tomorrow

@charliemwrites

I debated for some time whether or not I should post this, but in the end, my desire to share stories won.

Cw/Tw : mentions/discussion of losing faith (religious) & mentions/discussion of child death. Take care of yourselves <3

It was rare for Nélida to be uncomfortable. Sure, there were things that annoyed her, things that stressed her and things that made her afraid. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that- she was human, and it was in Men’s nature to feel, whether the emotions were positive or negative. Things that made her uncomfortable though? Things that made her skin crawl with unease and the desire to be anywhere else than where she was at the moment? Those were rare. Oh, they existed. And they made her soul tense up when mentioned.

“I don’t think that’s right, though…” Nova said, sprawled on the couch with Keegan as they argued. Nikto was sitting in a love seat, doing crosswords almost absentmindedly as he quietly listened to the sergeants talking. Castle was reading a book, not really paying attention. Meanwhile, Nélida was sitting on the ground in front of her Captain, her back leaning against his legs.

“No, I’m quite sure… It's like that thing with Adam and Eve, right? Banned from Paradise for touching the forbidden fruit or something.” Keegan replied.

“Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden to prevent them from eating from the tree of life, which would have made them eternal, not because they ate the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” Nélida absently corrected, shocking the two sergeants into silence. Noting the absence of talking, she blinked and looked up, meeting the bewildered gazes of her team.

“What?” She asked, a bit confused.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about… Bible-y things.” Nova said, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Oh.. yes, I guess I just… never talked about it.” Nélida tensed slightly, her hands playing idly with Castle’s shoelaces.

“Are you Christian?” Keegan leaned forward, eager to know more about her. A small pregnant pause followed the question, broken by a shuddering breath Nélida took.

“…was.” She whispered. Nikto frowned, shuffling in his seat.

“Oh.. well, what is, or was maybe, your favorite Bible quote?” Nova frowned a little at Keegan’s question, eyes darting between his oblivious self and Nélida’s crisped expression.

Castle had put his book down, lips pursing at the tense atmosphere in the room. He let one of his big paw-like hands slowly come down to rest against Nélida’s nape, the weight reassuring.

Keegan, realizing his mistake, opened his mouth to apologize, before being cut off by the older woman.

“It..” she started, clearing her throat as her voice broke.

Nikto crouched down next to her, presenting his gloved hand, palm up, to her. Nélida took it, taking a deep breath, before starting to speak once more.

“It is… or was, perhaps, Isaiah 41:10." She admitted, clearing her throat once more.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Keegan started, before being cut off by Nélida throwing a small smile his way.

"It's fine, amor, you didn't know."

Silence reigned for a while, before Castle hummed.

"Well now, what do you all say we play a game, hmm? Anyone up for strip poker?"

As Nova got up to go take the cards, Nélida squeezed Nikto's hand in thanks and threw a grateful glance over her shoulder at her Captain.

~~~

Nélida prefered to be the big spoon when cuddling. She just liked that position better. But sometimes, she just wanted to be held, to feel like nothing could hurt her when she was safely cocooned in her lovers' arms.

Castle rumbled quietly, scratching at Nélida's scalp gently.

"What's bothering you so much, mamí?"

"...just.. memories.." The woman mumbled, her voice slightly muffled due to the fact that her face was burried in the older man's pecs.

"Wannna talk about it?" Castle gently asked, like she was a feral animal that was being cornered.

"...Perdí a mi bebé... Mi hijo- mi hijo sólo tenía dos años y- murió..." She erupted in cries, Nélida's body was wracked with sobs, the comforting weight of Castle's hands caressing her back seemingly ineffective.

"I prayed.. I prayed so fucking much-! And my s-son, my son still.. still-!" Nélida gasped breaths in as Castle grounded her, his voice in her ear telling her to breathe helping.

"Doctors said it was CNS tumors..that there was nothing they could do, that- that it was too late.. that I noticed it too late.."

"I just- I- I miss him so much.. I wondered, why God? Why my son?" Her voice broke on the last word, trailing off into whimpers and sniffles.

Castle hummed, pressing a kiss to Nélida's forehead. He didn't quite know what to say, but he knew that what Nélida had said had probably been weighing on her for quite some time.

It took a while for Nélida to calm down, her eyes puffy and red with her anguish.

"Thank you for listening.. I-.. it's probably not fair on you, but I really needed to talk about it.."

Castle smiled sadly, a thumb drying one of his mamí's tears.

"I know this was difficult to talk about, but I'm glad you let it off your chest, love. If you ever want to talk, know that I'm here. If you don't want to talk and just want someone to hold you, I'm also here." He said, gaining himself a wobbly smile.

"Thank you, Castle... I really appreciate it."

Thye both knew she would hide anything was wrong the next morning. That she would burry her feelings deep inside her heart until they rose to the surface again. But for now, they fell asleep. Tomorrow would be different.

"...Perdí a mi bebé... Mi hijo- mi hijo sólo tenía dos años y- murió..." : “…I lost my baby… My son- my son was only two and he-.. he died…”

~~~

Isaiah 41:10

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

#writing #cod mw2 #oc x oc #oc x character #Nélida ‘Mommy’ Álvarez x Castle ‘Daddy’ Alistair #Nélida ‘Mommy’ Álvarez x Nikto #Nélida Álvarez #Castle Alistair #Captain Daddy #Nélida x Castle #cw: child death #(mentioned/discussed)#cw: loss of faith #tw: child death #mentioned/discussed

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stormingfrost · 23 days ago

Text

Wonders of the Invisible World

Tags: Body horror, major character death, Implied/Referenced child abuse, original characters, pitch/sandy, Katherine/nightlight

summary:

Through hundreds of years of strange things happening all over the world, finally someone sees. The Bennett family is now at the forefront of every children's tale - except, now, they learn that these tales are not only real, but much, much darker than they first thought.

For @rotg-halloween day twelve: Slither

Read it on AO3

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 /13

chapter eleven: Slither

under cut

Being stuck between the tick and the tock wasn’t ideal. One grew impatient. One grew hungry. He could see everything that Ombric, his old friend, could see. He knew Ombric was gone. He knew he was stuck.

He couldn’t affect anything here. He couldn’t feed.

He slithered across the world, seeing time branch into nothingness. Every decision that would ever be made wrapped around him.

He observed.

“Maybe we should try again,” North said.

“We hadn’t been needed,” Tooth replied. Bunny sat across from her, eyeing Sandy and Pitch. They were together, a perfect balance of fear and dreams. Their hands intertwined.

“Maybe,” Bunny said. “We haven’t tried being Guardians after the boy came back wrong. Now he’s human. Maybe that is a sign that we have to try again.”

Katherine sat away from the group, separated by choice.

“Nothing is going to happen or change if we do,” she muttered. North looked down at her.

“Nightlight is gone. You must accept that. What you did wasn’t good, but we haven’t been very nice lately.”

Pitch smiled at Katherine.

“I know. The pep talks are annoying, aren’t they?” He teased. “You can be good! Ha! I am Fear. You are Stories and Nature. None of us are good. We just are.”

He moved away from them, going forward into the present. He couldn’t sense any dreams here. He was hungry.

Jack and Mary stood next to the remains of their home. The snow blew down from the trees, making it look like it was snowing. Jack was shivering slightly.

“What happened to Mother?” Jack asked.

“She died of old age. She never wanted to be immortal. She wanted to see you and Father again.”

Jack hummed.

“You look like her. Just a bit.” Mary gave Jack a small smile.

“Life suits you, Jack. What do you want to do with it?”

Jack sighed, craning his neck up to stare at the stars. They sparkled. The moon was shining. The sky was navy.

“I’m not sure. I’ve spent so long being dead that I don’t know anything about living. I can only tell you what I wanted before this. I wanted to be a father. That’s all.”

Mary took Jack’s hands.

“That won’t be for another decade or so. What do you want now?”

Jack smirked mischievously.

“I want to live. To see everything the world has to offer.”

Mary grinned.

“You’re talking to the right witch for that. Come on! Ever want to see Transylvania?” Jack laughed as Mary pulled him away, almost like they were just two kids having an adventure near the pond.

Lermantoff slithered into town, finding the house of the humans who helped defeat them. His hunger was consuming him now, but he could not feed.

Joyce held her children close to her, cuddling on the couch as a movie played. Vivian sat on the arm of the couch. Andy splayed across the loveseat.

“That’s a bit unrealistic,” Jamie said. The movie displayed an inaccurate portrayal of the magical world.

“Yeah,” Andy said. “The zombies are always pretty sad.”

“This is really anticlimactic when you’ve faced the end of the world,” Joyce said.

“Great!” Jamie complained. “Movies are ruined for me.” Vivian chuckled.

“I think we’re just being a bit too judgy.”

Joyce turned the movie off just before the characters started to fight the zombies. She sent out a blue wolf around the room. It glittered, sending everyone a sense of calm and contentment. Her locket glowed softly.

Someone knocked on the back door.

Vivian held out her axe, before dropping it as she realized it was just Mary and Jack.

“Hey!” Andy opened the door, ushering them in.

“I fixed your car for you,” Mary said, nodding towards Joyce. “I also made the cops forget they found your car at all.” Joyce smiled.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been dead for centuries. I want to see the world,” Jack said. “You don’t have to take me in. I’ll live with Mary and Shadowbent. I promise I will visit.”

“You kinda have to,” Vivian said. “Being our great-something uncle and great-something grandma you’re being forced to spend holidays with us.”

Jack grinned. Mary shook her head.

“If you all start calling me Grandma I will put a curse you.”

“I’m frightened,” Andy deadpanned. Jamie giggled.

They walked outside to where Shadowbent and Sorina were waiting.

“Ready to go?” Mary asked. Jack nodded.

“We’re not taking your broom?”

“The wolves are faster. Trust me.”

Sophie and Jamie hugged Jack.

“Come back, okay?” Jamie asked. Jack smiled.

“I promise.”

Goodbyes were said, and they were off.

Lermantoff slithered back to the sea. It was quiet, as the winter season was in full swing. Hunger was in full force. He bit his tail, feasting on his self.

The hunger never stopped.

It would repeat over and over again. Life eternal and death everlasting. There was no fighting it. Change could not be stopped. It was just how it was.

#It’s done!#rotghalloween2024 #rise of the guardians #rotg #guardians of childhood #pitch black #sanderson mansnoozie #e. aster bunnymund #toothiana #nicholas st. north #jack frost #jack's sister #mary overland #skreeklavic shadowbent #lermantoff serpent #jamie bennett #sophie bennett #ms bennett #katherine shalazar

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theveryconfusedartistsart-blog · 3 months ago

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You know, back when I wasn't really sure what to do with Frisk, trying to define them in opposition to Chara helped a lot.

If Chara is serious, then Frisk is silly

If Chara's a bit of an edgelord then Frisk is bubbly and cheerful. (Remember Frisk making a smiley face with the punchcards and Chara saying “happiness is fleeting” when you take them out.)

If Chara is impatient and tries to be as efficient as possible, then Frisk is more willing to "waste time", having fun and hanging out with their new underground friends.

If Chara is hypervigilant and perhaps a little cowardly (with the running away text), then Frisk is the stupidly fearless one.

If I’m right about Chara not really wanting to forgive him, then that means forgiving Asriel was always Frisk’s preferred choice.

Chara’s a voracious reader but Frisk can’t read very well at all, and they certainly don’t enjoy it, they see anything longer than a paragraph or two and check out.

Since I think that Chara is both pretty proud of both their role in the prophecy and their status as royalty (but keeping up their high self esteem is incredibly dependent on others validation lest they crash down to nothing), to me that means Frisk is much more naturally and stably self confident.

...If Chara is easily embarrassed, and cares far too much about everyone seeing them as perfect then it's Frisk who is shameless, and doesn't care what others really think... which is why they can dance in public, and flirt with strangers, and dress like a human rainbow.

And we know that Chara apparently hated the power of determination and wanted to get rid of it "that power... that's the power you were trying to stop, isn't it?" and had a save file they never used, which probably means they could have reset after the buttercup plan and saved both themselves and Asriel and just…chose not to… But Frisk, on the other hand is the most determined child in the Underground and the only one not to eventually willingly give up against Asgore (since every human could reset)

It’s because of this that I can pretend those few moments of Frisk seemingly showing annoyance with our actions is actually Chara being annoyed with Frisk. Because Frisk chooses the soda they describe as “sickly” and CHARA scrunches up their nose or Chara making Frisk drag their feet when Frisk WANTS to look at stuff in the creepy lab. It's probably Frisk telling Chara not to be such a scaredy cat in that moment.

So yeah…defined in opposition, it helps with characterization, and works as an alternative to player theory (even if that's canon now)

(I am so sorry I sent you this lol, It's yet another text wall and it's not even Friskriel but…I like to hear your thoughts and I was talking about Kris and Red in opposition and it got me thinking)

Interesting, this is mostly how I imagined their personalities when I started writing my fanfics! I took a lot of what I got from the Pacifist route and applied it to Frisk, and took the things that Chara says around the end of the Genocide route, there a lot of clashing personality differences between them.

Although, I always thought it was Frisk digging their heels when they went through True Labs, it kinda added to my thought process of them being a softie like Papyrus and being put off by the creepy atmosphere and amalgamates, they hadn't really been in an area quite like that one before. But I can also see Chara being put off by it too at some points, and being set off by the old recordings... either way, no matter how creepy it is, I'm not sure either of them can deny their curiosities.

Unrelated, but there's also the funny thing you can do at the dump where you just keep looking at the garbage, and the Narration (Chara) gets kind of annoyed (if I remember right?) and it gave me the headcannon that Frisk (or at least my version) enjoys looking through piles of stuff/junk and thrift shopping, if they could go visit a dump on the surface, they would, it's their Weird Kid Thing.

I'm not sure if you're interested in this, but I've considered the player theory as a continuing concept in fanfiction (or specifically my fanfiction??)

Technically the player/me(the writer) becoming a watcher of the world (instead of controlling) who narrates the story as it happens... combined with the main character's POV. Like, for example, when the character drops into a panic attack- the narration will start to freak out with them.

(Alternatively, I've definitely also considered the narrator of the story also being Chara (instead of me) but without really flat out admitting it)

And I say 'watcher' specifically because I've never liked the idea of controlling the characters as if 'I'm possessing' them like a ghost, or as if they have no free will in the story, and it's why I'll never be completely comfortable with the Player theory, canon or not. (Pretty sure it's a side effect of becoming emotionally attached to the characters, oops.)

But other than that, I've tried my best to combine the game with the world I created for it my fanfics and it's become an AU that I've found myself preferring to think it about more.

I have also long ago considered, that when Asriel became Flowey, he went through many noticeable personality changes, and I realized that he likely adopted a lot of Chara's personality traits because he was trying to be strong like them. (There could also be an argument that this also happened naturally due to them sharing his body when Asriel died, Chara left a mark on him)

#undertale #frisk #chara #undertale talk #Flowey #I apologize I started rambling #I also couldn't help but talk about The Fanfics again because this is really the only place where I can talk about them

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malkaleh · 7 months ago

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ooooh so I would love to hear more about Helen Norwich, and about how the English Civil War might have gone in that 'verse!

Helen, I don’t know if I said but she’s Norwich’s niece. Which I want to be clear, he never did anything to her but OH BOY. She was also born not that long after Tom Cromwell escaped him (Helen was born in 1523) after he’d been expecting to be his older brothers heir for so long (his brother had been married twice before Helen’s mother with no children and they had Helen late in their marriage).

Helen is very quiet, very considered and sensible - but she is beautiful which Norwich, after his Annoyed At Her Existence was like ‘…oh yay BARGAINING CHIP’ - it meant he could hold her wardship and then find an appropriate husband for her that could best benefit him.

(Helen was preparing to make the best of this she could - at least Norwich didn’t actually give a fuck about the actual management of the Earldom and she’s fairly sure that any husband he would pick for her wouldn’t either and would be happy for her to stay in the country with their children while he was at court so…she’d have that at least, in between whatever cruelty)*

*I’m fairly sure Norwich wouldn’t suffer like extreme cruelty because Status Thing and Status Thing Only but also he would totally not care if Helen was miserable or not.

She gets the Earldom in her own right in the end and makes it a really lovely place again - I think Welles Hall is actually particularly famous for fine wool(s) but I’m still working that out.

The Civil War in OT3 verse is me going ‘what if I flip things and the Restorationists are pissed about the increasing democracy + their colonial attempts got slapped down HARD’ essentially.

Essentially there’s this but I’ll babble some more!

Baron Hugh Wake (Of Liddell) is based on a real historical family - the first Baron had a daughter married one of the sons of Edward I by his second wife. It is however by his son (in our history both of the first barons sons died but here his oldest lives) John that Baron Hugh is descended.

King Hugh/The Restorationist King essentially begins the rebellion, well I’ll go from my notes:

Started it after his father, son and some of his sons friends were going to be jailed for human rights abuses. Believed that England should be an Empire to be great, should expel all the Jewish people, should become a Christian nation and revert to the ‘natural order of nobility.

(They attempted to start a colony in what we would call North America. (The Spanish had previously been kicked out of South America in a story that is not mine to tell but does happen). They failed Miserably)).

There are whisperings about the changes Thomas and Mihrimah make and things do happen but they really start in Turhan’s reign. And then it goes on and becomes louder. About how Not White, Not Christian the royal family has become. About how there are Jews and Muslims and…in England. About how there is no imperialism, no ‘glory of empire’ and how people are being penalised for trying to make one by like jail.

So we get to Henry VIII’s great great (I think that’s enough greats!) grandson Arthur (Jahan) II (I call him Arthur II because of the Tudor Arthurian Fandom Thing). His first child is a daughter and he decrees that she’s going to be the heir regardless of any brothers born afterwards. The royal family takes the final steps to expand representative democracy. Also the eventual restoration king’s son, his sons friends and his father are jailed for a failed attempt to colonise North America. They rebel at all of the above (it is possible that I a biracial jewish etc woman am Having Some Feelings). Arthur is eventually beheaded, there’s a Restoration King for the same time Oliver Cromwell ruled and then..Arthur’s daughter Charlotte Askala is invited back.

The Restorationist Reign included a lot of awful things happening - like I mentioned the reform schools here

But that was very much the idea - they also did that to the children of nobles etc who weren’t restorationists. It’s pretty heavy history and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately (including Gregory Cromwell’s descendant(s) and how the chest with the Triads letters etc survived). The King Arthur Jahan was beheaded, his wife and daughter sent into exile. (I love them as well). Then Charlotte Askala (his daughter) is asked back because the whole thing falls apart after Hugh’s death (he’d styled himself essentially as protector of the realm for the quote ‘true king’

There’s a whole bunch of other things that will come up in the modern day with this universes version of the Abdication in the 1930s but I will stop now! (Also the other thing to know about Hugh is that he has two children he loves deeply - his son ended up in luxurious exile and never had children but his daughter had three daughters of her own but because Restorationists do not accept inheritance through the female line they are never going to be able to be held up as heirs which is a whole other Fuckery related to the abdication).

#lil and her ridiculous aus #ot3: political power trio #meme #tudors ot3 verse reference #i have so many notes tumblr so many #basically it’s a backlash to progress that ultimately does not win and in fact gets smacked down but it is still unfortunately a minority #(And it really is a minority like)#(There are people casually into it for the aesthetic - modern day restorationist rep is like Edwardian/1920s Old Money Vibes)#(Because when the restorationists realised they were out of power a lot of them fucked off to Monacco/various enclaves in Europe)#(With their money)#(people are very much working on getting people out of there and there are laws etc about education that are enforced)#(but the enclaves are A Problem)

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

Text

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 4: You See Right Through Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Summary: Michael opens up a little more, and your defenses start to crumble when you realize how similar you truly are.

Warnings: ANGST, lots of crying, mentions of child abuse and child death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.2k

A/n: I cried while writing this, and it hurts more if you listen to The Archer while reading this🤝🏻 But also, Mikey does his own dishes and the bare minimum should not be this attractive.

It’s one in the morning.

Michael has moved to lay beside you, your hand still on his face as you stroke his cheek. His eyes are closed, but he isn’t asleep. They are red and swollen from crying, his lips cracked from the dryness after not being able to breathe through his stuffed nose.

You held him as he told you the truth. You held him as he cried. It went on for a long time, but you eventually managed to calm him down.

You begin to think again. His day went awful, but yours wasn’t great either. The picture of the body bag being rolled out of the gas station only a few hundred meters down from your home is still stuck in your head, and it attacks the fear center of your brain slowly but steadily.

“Michael?” you whisper into the silence.

He hums, acknowledging your voice and showing you he’s listening, he’s just too tired to talk.

“I have a question.”

He opens one eye to look at you. “Ask,” he says.

“Something happened earlier. It’s been bugging me, and I didn’t want to add to your plate or annoy you or whatever, but…”

“Yer not annoying.”

“My question might be.”

“You can tell me anythin’, love.”

“Well, I was driving home earlier and– you remember the gas station we passed this morning?”

Both of his eyes are open now. You take it as a yes.

“I’m used to hearing it got robbed, you know? It happens a lot, and it often ends in a small investigation that they leave be for whatever reason, but… there were police everywhere this afternoon, more than usual, and– and I think someone got killed this time. I heard on the news that shots were fired, but–”

When you look at him, not a single muscle in his face is moving.

You sigh. “I’m sorry, forget it.”

“No,” but his voice sounds weird; he sounds like someone pressed a button inside of him that caused his jaw to lock up and sends anger straight through his veins. “Tell me,” he says.

You shudder slightly, not sure if you want to hear the answer. “Was it your family?” you ask then, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is it a front for the mob? Am I living next to a constant active crime scene? I don’t understand.”

He reaches out to touch your face this time. “Love, I…”

“So it’s true?”

“No!” the answer comes suspiciously quick. “No, yer safe. Don’t even think about it. Whatever happened, it has nothin’ to do with you or me or my family. Nothin’ can hurt ya, I promise.”

“But it’s true?”

“Leave it be.”

“No.”

You are stubborn by nature.

Death can happen fast. Accidents happen. You could lose your life in a second. Wrongful death, intentional death, that’s where it gets tricky. Murder is tricky. It means someone is willing to take another person’s life either for the thrill of it or personal reasons, but it’s still murder. Whether it can be excused or not is a debate that severely depends on the situation.

Death itself is a hard pill to swallow for most people, especially when it’s someone you love or it comes at random to someone too young to die, and then the world of everyone around the dead person crumbles.

And there is nothing we, as humans, can do to outrun the hourglass or the hurdles life might throw our way and could end us in an instant.

“Death doesn’t scare me,” you admit quietly. “But not-knowing does. And it is killing me inside that you won’t talk to me.”

Michael isn’t scared of death either; he has stared it in the face more times than he can count. He is afraid of the consequences, maybe, because he knows how much it can hurt. Death is a force of destruction. It can lead nations to chaos, or ruin your own life. Death often leads to a series of repercussions. You can’t escape it.

He didn’t tell you everything to protect you, but not-knowing scares you. You just said it. You’re not scared of him or death or his family, you are scared of the uncertainty, and he is at fault for that. In a way, he does scare you with that.

What he told you painted a clearer picture of his pain and the person he is deep inside, but he still kept parts of his life hidden, which means you don’t know him. You know his essence, but you don’t know his life.

You want to be part of Michael’s life, and you accept every rough edge he might show you, even if it’s dangerous and painful and might end in death. That becomes frighteningly clear to you, and you recoil at your train of thought.

You avoided violence because you grew up with it, and now you want to be in a relationship with a man who, some time ago, lived a life of violence? But it’s different, right? It has to be different.

Or maybe you are sexually attracted to danger, after all. Michael treats you well compared to the men you were with before, so accepting a little danger is something you can manage. Right?

You’re thinking too much. And Michael is thinking too much, too. He wants to tell you, he wants to admit that he lied, but his tongue is tied. He looks at you and his thoughts only go out to protecting you, and there is still a part of him that wants to guard what’s left of his heart that you haven’t seen yet. He protects himself with that, in a way, but also keeps you from harm – emotionally and physically.

Why he chose to put himself in this position, he doesn’t know. It scares him, and he doesn’t often get afraid. He isn’t afraid of many things except for this.

His thoughts flick to what Jimmy told him about Eamon and the danger that he projects. He owns them, and he wants to own even more to the point the Kinsellas will only be mere slaves in the business anymore. Eamon would move mountains to get what he wants.

More than one person has been causing trouble lately, so Frank is weary. Michael gets that. This life is dangerous and no matter what, threats will pop up anywhere they go. It’s only natural if you’re a Kinsella, and if he were still with them, working for them, he would tread carefully. He would make sure everyone is safe the same way he is keeping you safe now, and he needs to keep Anna safe, too.

It’s not about self-pity anymore, it’s about the duty he appoints himself. He won’t let history repeat itself.

He said he would burn this bridge if it comes to it, but it hasn’t come so far and his family is capable of many things. They can handle it. Jimmy will find someone to help him. Eric isn’t him, Michael is aware of that, but he can still be used to get a point across, and his brother won’t have to work alone and subject himself to the danger on his own.

He hates that he still cares so much and every living thought revolves around his family, even after all the pain, but he grew up with them, was loved by them, and worked for them for a long time because it was the only way he knew how to live. His name comes with a certain sense of responsibility that is almost impossible to shake, but he told Jimmy he can try, and he is trying. He just can’t fail again.

You sit up. Frustration is etched into your features. You hate not-knowing, not being able to understand, and your thoughts and his lack of words only make it harder than it should be. It fuels the anxiety and feeds the fear.

“It wasn’t my family,” Michael says. His eyes gloss over with guilt and unshed tears, but he is too exhausted to allow himself to cry again. “But it was someone, and they’re not robberies.”

Your shoulders are tense and you look scared. He hates when you’re scared. He hasn’t seen you like this before, but he knows he can’t let it happen again. And so he ends up telling you, anyway.

“He‘s dead,” he adds.

Death doesn’t scare you, you said. You appreciate the honesty.

Finally, you think. You should celebrate the fact he finally told you something, but what he tells you isn’t exactly satisfying information.

You nod slowly, processing his words. “And whoever was killed–” you said.

“Connected, but not family.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Workin’ for us,” he explains. “A dealer. I, uh, overheard a conversation.”

“So drugs?” you ask.

“Yeah,” his eyes only grow guiltier, “but that's not somethin' you should concern yerself with. It’s dangerous and there is a reason I didn’t want to tell ya.”

“And this…” your hand motions to nothing at all, but he knows what you mean. “This was once your life?” you ask, your voice quivering slightly. “Guns, bodybags, and bloodshed? It really is that serious? It’s not just some result of fiction or- or an overstatement?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“And your brother – Jimmy, was it? – and his wife, they want you to go back to that life with the possibility of being shot even though you have a daughter?”

“Mhm.”

“You could die?”

“Yes. It's a risk I've come ta accept."

“Jesus Christ, Michael!” You bury your face in your hands.

"But I knew tha' from the beginning," he adds. "It's what my life has always looked like. Death doesn't scare me."

You cry out, your voice dripping with the pure essence of frustration. "Maybe, in your case, it should!" you snap.

He slowly sits up and approaches you. His hand hovers above your back, but he is scared to touch you. What if you recoil? He shouldn’t have told you. He might lose you now. He might have screwed up another good thing. His hands are capable of destroying so much.

But you raise your head again after a few seconds and turn around. The look in your eyes isn’t one of fear or disgust; you look at him with the rawest empathy he has ever seen a person possess.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that, and do all of that, I–”

“I hurt people. I killed people,” he whispers back. “I am not the victim. Why don’t ya get that?”

“I do get it, Michael, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Your voice is louder now, more desperate.

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because no one chooses this life,” you say and grasp his hand tightly in yours. “You were born into it, and I am so sorry you didn’t get to live a happy suburban life with your wife and daughter a-and a dog, maybe. I’m sorry you had to grow up with so much death and blood and that you had to carry the guilt of your actions without anyone to take care of you. I’m sorry you had to do that–”

The word ‘killing’ strikes a chord, but it’s a low note that doesn’t reach the speakers. It doesn’t reach your ears. He’s a victim in your eyes.

“Your family expects so much of you, don’t they?”

Michael’s face contorts. Lightning strikes him. His face falls. His expression has never been clearer. You managed to press your finger straight into the wound and twist it. You read him like an open book, but this time you didn’t miss even the slightest inch. The obvious punches him in the face.

“Good Boy Michael, your family’s obedient servant–”

He calls your name. He’s not sure where you got the dagger from, but it’s starting to hurt. That’s not your intention, not even when you get up and stand before where he’s sitting on the bed. The rain cloud above his head opens up. His brown eyes falter in their sternness. You tore the very last bit of the veil that kept the very core of him covered and tore it off, and now there is no going back.

“You didn’t deserve that. And you don’t deserve any of this, either,” you say, your voice a gentle breeze that blows over his wounds. "What's happening right now. You don't deserve it."

You didn’t inflict them, you simply reopened them, and now he is bleeding on the floor. His heart is bleeding out for you. It’s a tragic picture, a tragic metaphor, but you seem to live for the drama of a good metaphor. You are a writer, after all, and all good love stories have someone bleeding out for the other, burning for them, willing to die for them…

You reach out to touch his cheek. He says your name again, but it doesn’t come out right.

“You’ve always deserved better, Michael.”

There are a few things you know now, and they ignite a fire of determination that is hard to put out.

For one, you hate Jimmy and Amanda. You’ve never met them but alone the thought of ever doing so repulses you. When Michael told you about the fight at his house a few days ago, the things his brother said to him in a fit of rage, and how he and Amanda tried to convince him to join the business again after he explicitly told them that he wants to prioritize Anna, your blood boiled and you recoiled. You died inside.

And two, you can tell he is holding back. He’s not a terrible liar, but he can be exceptionally bad at it when he’s in a bad mood.

He asked you once if you ever get angry, at the café when he found you after a bad day and offered some comfort. The first day you kissed. The truth is, you do get angry; it’s often silent anger and you hate violence - you loathe it - but there are times when silent anger isn’t enough and you become absolutely furious. When it comes to the people you love, there is nothing you wouldn’t do.

Love.

Do you love him? It hasn’t been that long and feelings tend to be confusing. You thought love at first sight was a fairytale and it only happens in romance books – it has always been fiction to you. But if it’s fiction, why do you feel this way?

Maybe it’s a ‘right person, wrong time’ situation. You found each other when you needed it the most, neither of you knowing that was the case and now you’re here with him, sharing a bed, and you want nothing more than that. You want this reality. You want to forget about your past.

But it’s not that easy. Your sister is living in a household that is slowly destroying her inside, and you feel helpless. You want to take her in, but she’s a minor and that would be a crime without custody, even if it’s your own sister. And you haven’t been in contact for a long time. She might see you differently now.

You were scared of reconnecting. You openly admit that. You were a coward. You were scared of facing any part of your family again after everything that happened; you wanted to hide the pain and move on. It was more about pushing the ghastly memories of your childhood and beyond away than it was about making yourself happy.

You ran because you had to. You prioritized yourself, but looking at the situation at hand now, you regret it. Ignoring the inevitable is never a good idea, and you should have known living in denial wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps you were more than delusional when you thought moving to Dublin and chasing a dream that is so far away, still, would be a good idea.

“No child–” your voice cracks. The tears start burning in your eyes like a steadily spreading wildfire. You were so strong in the beginning, now you’re breaking yourself apart. “No child should grow up with violence,” you whisper. “No child should feel trapped in their home, because of their name or- or like they’re not good enough. It’s not fair. It’s not…” You suck in a sharp breath when the first tear escapes the corner of your eye.

“Hey,” Michael says. He utters your name for the third time. “Love…”

Oh, that little pet name breaks your heart.

“I’m so sorry you went through what you went through and I don’t… I don’t care that you hurt people because I know… I’ve hurt people too. And I know you would never hurt me, Michael. I know it may be foolish of me to stick around, but you didn’t do any of the things you did because you’re vile. You just had to survive and I don’t hate you or could ever hate you for wanting to survive. You never had a choice.”

His eyes are sore from crying, but fresh tears start building up anyway. The sight of you so broken and vulnerable and sad for him is something he can’t stand, and he just wants to know who hurt you. You were the spitting image of sunshine, and now your light has dimmed. The candle is about to blow out. Up until now, he didn’t believe that was possible. You were so happy, so cheery, so perfectly yourself with your little apron, your butterfly clip, and your jokes – now you're a crumbled mess, and your heart is bleeding into his, staining the carpet under your feet like red wine. It's maroon.

“Don’t feel sorry fer me,” he says, trying to console you. “I made the mistakes tha’ led me here on my own, no one else.”

You wipe your cheeks furiously. “But this is no life to live, Michael,” you tell him. “People die. Children die. I mean, how many people you love have you buried? That is not something you should even have to ask yourself. You’re supposed to be human. Your life should not be a haunting existence. It shouldn’t be– it’s not supposed to be so painful that you can’t breathe anymore.”

His eyebrows furrow. He gets the feeling this isn’t just about him anymore. You’re making conclusions, and it sounds like less what he experienced and more like the memories of someone else.

He lets out a shaky breath, pulling your forehead down against his, his hand curling around the back of your neck. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I… you went through so much–”

“This isn’t ‘bout me.”

“Yes, it is.” You choke back a sob.

“Hey–“

“No, I can’t. You- I-” You can’t breathe. “I just want you to let me in so I can help you.”

“Let me in first.”

You can’t allow yourself to cry. It is you who should take care of him. It is he who suffered the most. It wouldn’t be fair of you to cry, to be weak when he has every right to be.

“This is not your burden t’carry. You don’t have ta fix everythin’ that’s remotely broken. Yer human too, and I can tell yer in pain, so please…”

Your body shakes. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, and that’s all it takes for days of pent-up emotions to break out of you. No, you’re lying. It’s not just days, it’s months or years, or decades, even. Because being held is not something people do for you.

At first, you struggle against his grip, the feeling so alien, you don’t want him to see you like this.

Whenever you’re like this, you’re empty. You’re useless like this. That’s one of the reasons why you cry in the shower; you don’t exist there. And once you’re done crying, you can put your mask back on and pretend you’re okay until you’ve convinced yourself.

"Stop," he tells you firmly.

He's stronger than you. You have nowhere to run. You have to face it.

"Stop," he repeats, and you let your limbs hang loose in defeat.

He holds you close to his chest as you curl into a ball, and that's when you start crying violently. You're not just sobbing; your body shakes with the force of your tears, and you can barely hold on as the flood threatens to take you away.

Michael is overwhelmed by the force of your emotions at first, but his instincts take over almost instantly when the sound of your strangled sobs reaches his ears. Whatever or whoever hurt you, the scars run deep. He wouldn’t have guessed from looking at you, which is why he’s so shocked when the waterfall crashes into you. You sound like you’re in pain, and that hurts him.

You told him your parents weren’t appreciative or supportive of your career choice, but he’s starting to feel like you lied to him. Or you convinced yourself that it was the truth to protect yourself. You’re good at being in denial.

Someone with so much pain inside has to carry a deeper secret than unsupportive parents.

You cry until there is nothing left. You’re reduced to a shaking, whimpering mess, but he doesn’t pull away. Michael holds you through every last aftershock as if he was born solely just for this, and in his strong arms you find solace. You find a sanctuary from the tornado that follows you everywhere, ready to take you out whenever.

He strokes your hair. He is affectionate, too affectionate, and the sweet nothings he whispers into your ear echo in your brain, instantly picked apart by the voices and the beast.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“For what?” Michael asks softly.

“Crying.”

“Why– Jesus Christ, what happened to ya?”

You don’t reply to his question. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat instead.

You cried, you made it about yourself, and you can feel the sharp nails of guilt tearing your heart and soul to shreds.

“Cryin’ is natural.”

It may be, but you’re not allowed to. Your next intake of breath comes gurgled. Your lungs refuse to accept the oxygen, choking you a blanket over open fire.

“Shh, it’s okay, just breathe,” he says. “Breathe.”

You inhale, then exhale through your mouth.

“That’s it. I’ve got ya, and I’m not lettin’ go.”

He holds you until he feels your breathing calm down and your muscles slack under his touch. Your chest rises and falls in a steady but exhausted rhythm and you nuzzle closer to him.

He’s the first man you feel safe with. Michael protects you, even if it’s just from yourself right now, but he’s there. You’re not used to being on the receiving end of comfort, just like him.

You remember being told that crying is a weakness, so you stopped. You knew crying would have consequences. You found other ways to channel your emotions. You swallowed them all and projected them on other people, constantly trying to fix them so you wouldn’t have to deal with yourself, and that slowly made you sick.

But it has become an addiction; no therapy in the world can make this black hole in your chest go away. You’re supposed to be the light of everyone’s lives, and it is so strange to have someone hold you when the candle is about to blow out.

Fuck. You are falling for him.

Sleep evades you. He holds you for a while after you finally lie down, but he falls asleep to the sound of your heartbeat before you can. Every time you close your eyes, a million faces flash before them.

You tried to bury the memories of your past a while ago, and it worked, but they are starting to resurface. Remnants of broken bones, split lips, and black eyes turn into an army. You remember the words that cut deeper than a knife, and you start tearing up again.

Every time you close your eyes, you relive the godforsaken day in the hospital, a tiny body attached to several machines, and the steady rhythm of the heart monitor turning into a flat line. The constant beeping turns into a monotone, high sound, cutting straight through your heart. You remember feeling numb, your eyes filled with cotton as your mother broke down, and it was your responsibility to take care of her. You always had to take care of them because he never did.

You push the blanket off your body. It’s getting too hot and the thick air makes it harder to breathe. The floorboards in the hallway offer a cooler temperature that soothes your skin. You’re wearing one of Michael’s shirts. It was comfortable only a few hours ago, but now the cotton is scratching at your skin like thousand tiny needles, and you tear it off your body.

Wrapped in your silk robe, you retreat to the kitchen. The oven clock tells you it’s three in the morning. You settle at the dining table with a fresh cup of piping hot chai tea and allow the cinnamon to comfort your overwhelmed senses. As so often, you feel like you’re losing yourself, but this time it seems like you can’t reach for your own hand anymore.

Your life is spiraling out of control, faster than you thought it would, your past catching up with you. It was bound to happen eventually, but it comes suddenly and without warning and that is terrifying. The unknown is terrifying, and you can’t even save the person you love more than anything in this world – you’re so caught up in the grief of the past that you pushed away what you had, and now here you are, standing before the crumbling construct that is your life.

The door to the kitchen opens. You don’t notice at first because you are lost in thought and except for a vanilla candle you lit, there is no light in the apartment. You jolt when you catch a glimpse of a tall shadow, your lungs grasping for her as your muscles tense up and you flinch hard enough for your head to hurt from the sudden movement.

Michael turns the light on, causing you to jump out of your chair only to relax visibly when you see him. You let out a sigh of relief, but the tears well up in your eyes regardless. You’re supposed to feel safe.

“‘m sorry,” he mutters sleepily. “Didn’t mean ta scare ya.” His accent is thicker, you notice.

His hair stands in all possible directions and he looks as if he woke up from a very deep slumber.

You place a hand against your chest. “It’s okay,” you lie, “I just got startled.”

“Are ya okay, love?”

“Yeah.” Your words are all lies.

“Hm–” he rubs his eyes. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

“No, just couldn’t sleep.” You wipe your nose. “Chai tea?” you ask him.

Michael shrugs but takes your mug anyway to take a sip. “Thanks,” he says.

“You should go back to bed.”

“Comin’?”

“No.”

“Then ‘m not goin’.”

“Stubborn.”

“Yeah.”

“You want your own chai?”

“That’d be grand.”

And that’s how you end up on your living room floor in complete darkness at three in the morning, each of you holding a mug with hot Chai Tea in it. His has a little more cinnamon and you experimented with some caramel. He poked fun at your unicorn mug, but when he saw the dinosaur cup on your shelf, he quickly shut his mouth and took that one.

Sitting with him in silence is comfortable. The warmth of the chai tea seeps into your hands. You watch the fragrant steam rise. The taste is familiar and has often carried you through bad times. It's your comfort drink.

The world outside feels insignificant now as you're sitting in the darkness together. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall becomes a lullaby. You focus on the sound that has a consistency to it, distracting you from the elements of your subconscious that keep resurfacing. Time seems to hold its breath.

You reach out to touch his thigh. He takes your hand, seeing right through you. You’re not sure how he does it, but he has a way of seeing you that makes you feel important. It makes you feel like you might be good enough without trying too hard. It’s all you have been waiting for. You’re not religious, and you don’t pray, but you often hoped for more than just a plane ticket to Dublin but for someone or something to find their way into your life and somehow make you feel seen for the first time in your life. And you’ve been through many partners before meeting Michael, all of them failing miserably at treating you the way Michael proves that you deserve.

“Are we ever gonna talk?” you ask. “Or are we just gonna pretend there’s no secrets between us?”

He lifts his head from the cushions. He glances at you, then at the clock on the wall. 4 am. “I dunno,” he answers honestly.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I just want ya to be okay.”

“I know. That's what I want for you, too."

"But my life is complicated. I told ya. You saw it. Yer far too good for the kind of shadows that surround me."

"Maybe there are things you don't know about me," you whisper. "Have you ever thought about that?"

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Somethin' ya want t' share with me?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No. Just saying."

"Yeah, that's what I'm doing too. Just sayin'."

You're speaking without saying anything, and that's not a healthy foundation, but you need each other.

Each second feels like an hour. Your eyes meet Michael's, and you see the longing and trepidation within the honey-hazel color of his irises. The vulnerability at that moment is palpable, and you find solace in the fact that you're not alone.

You’re both people who hate uncertainties and perhaps you’re not the only one terrified of not-knowing. It’s a frustrating state of being.

You place your head on his shoulder. His lips brush your temple. Your fingers are still intertwined in his lap, and he takes his other hand to stroke through your unruly bed hair. The clock keeps ticking while you stay there in silence, not moving until the first red glow of the sunrise shows on the horizon.

“I often sleep on the floor,” Michael admits then. “In prison, the beds were hard, so I sleep on the floor now.”

You close your eyes, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry,” you whisper in a fleeting, hushed tone.

“It’s not your fault.”

You reach up, brushing away your tears, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of Michael's lips. His touch lingers on your cheek.

“C’mon, let me get the mugs.” He takes the empty chai from you, followed by his own before he makes his way to the kitchen. With precision, he washes the dishes and stacks them on the rack beside your sink, leaving them to dry.

When he turns around and heads back into the now dimly lit living room, you are curled up on the floor as he so often does, your eyes closed and your body lulled into a state of forced relaxation. The exhaustion must have knocked you out, and he doesn’t blame you. Your body needs it.

Michael lifts you up carefully, making sure not to drop you as he carries you back to bed. He may be sleeping on the floor rather often, but that’s not something he wants you to do when it’s not necessary – your back will eventually suffer.

You don’t seem to mind the mattress for you roll onto your stomach and fall right back asleep when he lays you down gently. He remains next to you throughout the early morning hours, watching you sleep and hoping that once you wake up, you can feel at least a little better.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @your-not-invisible-to-me @glowstick-lesbian @ms-murdockswift @acharliecoxedfan @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattmurdocksscars @roseallisonparker @1988-fiend @norestfortheshelbywicked

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella x female reader #chaos theory #hurt/comfort #kin amc #reader insert #charlie cox

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bakurasilver · 7 months ago

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Mathieu spitting incident roleplay???

So after the spitting incident I knew I needed to do something with this, it just did not feel like I could ethically ignore it. Provoked or not, and he very clearly was, spitting at people is just not a great thing to be doing (now all I can think of was that this was an unenriched and stressed Mathieu demonstrating a natural threat response 😭). It was probably a spur of the moment dumb decision, but I just didn't feel as though I could pretend it hadn't happened. Definitely not saying anyone else could or should have to write about it, but for me at least I needed to write him accepting the fact that it was Not A Great Decision (tbh I imagine I spent far more time angsting over this than real Mathieu, who usally seems to sail through controversy) before I could go back to writing him being emotionally mature enough to look after Wout.

Anyway so I'd just written that fic where he wants to play on the swings because he never got the chance to as a kid, so I was still thinking about the idea that Wout had worked very hard through the years with his therapist to ensure he stayed mentally well-balanced, and Mathieu just... hadn't.

So it starts off with them agreeing that they'll roleplay this out with Wout pretending to be some sort of therapist that young child Mathieu's been sent to talk to (Wout is reluctant, because he's not an expert, but he knows Mathieu won't talk to anyone who's actually qualified. Mathieu is blithely confident, sure that they'll faff around for half an hour and then Problem Dealt With, he can move on.)

But as soon as they begin, things begin to go off the rails. As soon as Wout comes back into the room, it's obvious that despite his I Don't Care I Was Right front, underneath it Mathieu's terrified that if he isn't perfect then he's flawed and only worth discarding, and that only when he's successful does he have any value. The two of them start building a house out of Lego, but Wout doesn't know how to help Mathieu deal with what is at its root the product of being praised and feted when he won a race, and being told to use disappointments to push himself harder... and neither did I.

Now I absolutely need to say I really don't think real Mathieu is angsting every time he loses. I just don't think he does! I think he's annoyed about it for a day or so maybe, but like he said in that recent Matt Stephens interview, he sleeps pretty well. I'm sure he doesn't lie awake thinking about all the might-have-beens if he'd lived a less gilded life, and even if he does, it's none of my business what goes on between real Mathieu's ears.

But, at least in the land of fanfiction, he's got such a tantalisingly narrative shape that you can shine a light on him from so many angles and get an intriguingly-shaped shadow. You can project almost any reading onto Mathieu and think, oh huh yeah I can kind of see that making sense. He's so plausible in so many scenarios because there really aren't any inner depths visible. Whether or not they exist in real life, it's so tempting to give in to the urge to give him some thematically-appropriate ones.

Anyway, there it sits, waiting for Wout and me to work out how to convince Mathieu that making a mistake does not mean he's an irredeemably bad person. Which I would very much like to do, because as it ends currently Wout is having a one-sided discussion inside his head about how Hitler isn't a helpful example, and Mathieu is curled up in a ball with his face buried in his knees having a cry. I can only hope that at some point I'll work out what comes after this:

“That was a good choice you made just now, telling me how you’re feeling,” said Wout, gently rubbing Mathieu’s back. “I know it isn’t easy, but I’m really proud of you for coming to see me today. Sometimes we all make bad choices, that’s part of being human, but

(Mathieu feels he's disappointed Wout, it ends in a note to myself at the bottom, as though I didn't know that!)

#strigimorphaes #fanfiction

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pandorafallz · 7 months ago

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Lest We Rest Upon Our Graves | C13

“Is this it?” Alex couldn’t help himself as he noticed Kìoetey’s arrival back, jumping up from his seat to greet her but he couldn’t help the knot in his stomach at the sight of the box. In all honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He probably had a lot of other things he should be doing that were more worth his time than doing something Cortez wanted, he still felt awkward around her but resistance work was a good medium that he could work with her on.

Why was he doing this?

Well, that picture of that little human baby lingered in the back of his mind. A life lost by either natural causes or cold-blooded murder and… while he wasn’t a father, he couldn’t imagine how Cortez was feeling. The underlying desperation to find out what happened to her own kid… He still was stalling a little on the fact she had gotten pregnant to start off with. Sixteen years, they had worked together, she hadn’t mentioned life before the resistance and… well it was no surprise of why given TAP. But… as something like this, a daughter, he was sure it should have come up before.

Cortez really liked her secrets.

Still, he couldn’t quite hold that against her, not like TAP.

Kìoetey brushed past So’lek with a tense smile, holding the grey container out to him which he took very delicately but his stomach tightened at the ratting inside. Bones.

Real, human bones. Baby bones. Ooh, what was he letting himself get into?

“Do you mind fetching Nalin? I could…do with her medical eyes on this.” Alex asked. “If she’s not busy with the injured still.”

“I can collect her for you,” So’lek spoke, drawing their attention but he was gone before he could really say anything.

Alex sighed but nonetheless, headed to the lab anyway and carefully set it down.

“What’s inside?” Kìoetey asked interestedly, coming to crouch beside his station. “It felt heavier than I expected.”

“Remains. Human remains.” Alex replied honestly with a wince. He didn’t want to lie, there was little point of it and Kìoetey didn’t deserve to be lied to. Not again.

Kìoetey gave him a look. “You had me desecrate a grave?!”

“No, I had you exhume a grave for examination to determine if the death was natural or not.” He said, hoping to soothe her words with why. This wasn’t thoughtless. “I’m sorry I didn’t expand when I asked for your help. In all honestly, I didn’t expect you to find it given how long it’s been buried.”

Kìoetey inhaled deeply, still annoyed but thankfully, not holding onto her ire. “I would have handled it more respectively, Alex.”

“I’m sorry.” He turned a lingering look back to the case. “I’m… a little surprised I’m invested.”

Thankfully, Nalin seemed to make her appearance, a ration pack in hand and a coffee in the other and still looking a little tired. Now out of medical, it seemed. So’lek was following and seemed to linger back.

“So’lek said you wanted me?”

“Yes, I’ve got bones for medical examination for you to help me with. Is Cortez about?” Alex asked.

Nalin frowned, her eyes flickering down to the box for a moment. “No, She fell asleep at her desk in that makeshift office she’s pulled together this morning” Nalin set the ration back down, her hands coming to find her gloves. “What are we looking at? This is a small box for bones.”

Alex also grabbed from gloves, also ignoring their audience and grabbed a tray to help with the unloading. Nalin carefully opened the rusty latch but the lid didn’t move as she tried to lift it. Alex pulled open his draw for his trusty bottle of WD-40 which he sprayed on the backings and the rim and gently began to try and coax the lid into moving. It worked, slowly but enough for the lid to rise with loud, rusty complaints.

Inside were a lot of tiny bones, mixed up and hard to tell how the child had been resting prior to her burial. The clothes and blanket were long gone and there was a distinct odour but they both ignored that. It wasn’t just bones that lay inside. There is a plastic bag was… a mass of grey that looked like a wet brick from moister having leaked into the container. Alex knew that was a pile of human ashes as well. A dual burial. Not what he had expected… but too late to back out now. He was gentle as he picked up the bag first, setting it aside in a bowl and covering it with a rag then helped Nalin as she began to retrieve the bones and set them out onto the tissue-lined tray.

“Oh—Oh,” Nalin breathed as she realised what she was looking at. “A baby…” She reached in. “Look how small the femur is!”

“Aw…” He couldn’t help himself as he saw the little bone in her hands. “I’ve been told she died before birth. How long is it? That can determine the gestation term. ”

Nalin hummed, grabbing a Vernier Caliper and measuring the little bone’s length. “Seven point seven centimetres in length.” Nalin sucked in a breath. “That’s… that means the baby was practically at full-term prior to its death.”

Alex winced though Nalin looked…sad as she set the femur down and began to pick through the bones and set them out onto the tray to resemble a humanoid shape rather than a mass.

“What do we know about the baby?” Nalin asked, gently setting out the tiny ribs. “Stillborn? There used to be a few miscarriages happening often from the female staff before I defected. None lasted after eight weeks of pregnancy. Could Pandora in general affect fetal development? Gravity is lighter.”

“Assumed stillbirth at the time but…there’s been insinuation that this wasn’t natural,” Alex replied. “I don’t expect to find bone trauma but there are ways to determine interference with a pregnancy with bone development and density and pull some DNA from the bones. What’s your assessment of the bones?”

“The bones are in good condition and intact. We haven’t got everything since newborns and pre-term fetuses don’t have all their bones yet; some of it cartilage that gets replaced with bones as the child grows up. The stull is in pieces but that’s expected. It has to be malleable to pass through the birth canal.” Nalin set the little toothless mandible off though paused at one of the pieces as she set the skull. “Look, down the upper jaw. The maxilla’s deformed. See how it pulls up to the nasal cavity and leaves that small gap.”

“A cleft lip.” Alex agreed, eyeing her bone fragment “Pallet as well?”

She tiled it around, “Yep. Still, treatable. It doesn’t look like it could have been too impactful on life expectancy. Do you think it’s a sign?”

“I’d ask Cortez if it runs through her family or Baby Daddy’s first before we think down that route. I’m not gonna put my assumptions ahead of me.” Alex shrugged, expression softening at the little vertebra that he lined up. Tiny little things that were the size of teeth, or dice.

Nalin picked up one of the longer bones but wasn’t the femur. “We can use one of the tibias for genetic testing and screening. I’ll put them all through an x-ray to see if that’ll give us any indication of growth developments.”

“That’s the tibia?”

“Yep.” She set it down for now.

“You should check through Cortez’s file for anything that occurred before birth.” She should had everything, Alex knew she kept those records private and secure. If it wasn’t lost from the bombing. “If we can’t find anything on the baby’s bones, her health at the time may reflect interference.”

“There’s a chance it could be missing those parts. I hadn’t seen that far back.”

“Perhaps. If Mercer has a hand in the child’s death, he may have covered it up.”

Nalin frowned at his remark but nodded softly. “I would make a comment of doubt but… we all know Mercer isn’t above killing children.”

Alex was inclined to agree, picking up the rusted box before there was a low metal ting echoing. He peered down, using the end of a pen to move the rotten fabric at the bottom to see… a small flash of silver. He dug it out carefully, though inside he was set with the clear view of an engagement ring which he looped onto the end of the pen to examine.

A silver band with a sapphire jewel inset into the band, basic really. Kinda cheap but that often wasn’t the point; most wedding and engagement rings were cheap, too expensive or family heirlooms passed down and never no middle ground. An engagement ring buried with her daughter’s bones but also with human ashes? Alex wasn’t dim to think it was unrelated at all. Logic dictated that the ashes belonged to Cortez’s fiancé, probably baby daddy. Another thing hidden away but something Alex was more lenient to forgive; she had but buried both. A tremendous loss to endure at once.

He set the ring carefully onto the bag of ashes. “I’ll get another box prepped for when we’re done. I’ll bring back the x-ray kit.” No doubt Cortez would want to rebury them somewhere else now. Alex peeled off his gloves, siding past the two Na’vi in search of Jin-young. A wooden box would be better now.

Alex didn’t have to go far in search, Jin-young was by the memorial again, the weight of his loss still on his shoulders with how he slouched a little.

“Jin-young, can I ask a favor?”

Jin-young looked at him and then nodded softly. “Sure.” His voice was quiet.

“Can you cobble together a wooden box? Something big enough for… ashes and some small bones?”

“You mean like a coffin?”

Alex hesitated but nodded. “We’ve exhumed remains for examination, we need a new box to rebury them in later.”

Jin-young’s expression was tense but after a moment, nodded. “Okay. Let me know when you need it finished by.”

Alex reached forward, grasping his shoulder in a comforting grip. “Thank you.”

“Those bones as so small.” Kìoetey’s voice was soft as she crouched over the tray of remains. “I know… humans are small but your infants…” She couldn’t help but be amazed at the little one, her hand outstretched beside the tray it was resting on and measuring the size of her hand to the bones. The baby would quite easily and snuggly fit into the hand of a Na’vi. It was almost a novelty of a notion.

Nalin chuckled softly. “Yes, our babies are tiny. We’re born underdeveloped and depend on our mother for everything, near blind, can’t support our heads and fragile. Na’vi newborns are about the size of humans at two years.”

Kìoetey’s expression turned a little, softening to a quiet melancholy. “It’s sad that a life so small was taken.” It… gave her mixed feelings. Pity for the child… and part of her couldn’t help but offer some pity for Cortez. Far more than she wanted to give but.. this child was innocent. What was their story?

“Indeed. The smallest of deaths are often the heavier than most.” She sighed sadly too. “but, Infant deaths are a part of human life. Almost too common. Even on Pandora, the human infant mortality rate is at least 90%. There’s only been one human born and raised successfully on Pandora. He lived with the resistance in the east growing up. He’s… probably about your age now. The fact this child grew to this size and so far looks healthy does concern me. Most fescues had died in their first two months of gestation.” Nalin explained, eyeing the little skeleton.

“Wait, humans aren’t able to keep a pregnancy?” Kìoetey frowned a little at the implication. Did Eywa not allow humans to birth here?

“Well, humans in the RDA aren’t technically supposed to have relations but even the higher-ups want to get laid. So, they provide preventatives when they can, like contraceptives, and pills; After morning, plan B. Sterilisation options as well. Abortions are available if needed but there’s an application process for that out of medical intervention. Now, the RDA do have prenatal care on the chance there is a baby if a woman decides to continue a pregnancy. Before I left, at least three woman tried to keep their pregnancy going but all of them lost before the second month was up, a fourth had to abort due to medical complications that would arise.” Nalin explained, running her hand across her head before she realised it was gloved.

Kìoetey’s brow was still pulled in. “You’re inclined to believe this…baby was killed?” In all honesty, Nalin had been right, Mercer would certainly kill a baby it if became a problem. How come this child was a problem that he felt he had to kill? Why didn’t Cortez…clock on sooner? That answer was simple really; she thought it was natural.

“I still need to run my checks so I can’t… go either way. We’re missing a lot of context behind the environment of how the mother was living prior to the loss. What food or changes were made that could have had an impact.”

“How can you tell from these bones if it was killed?” Kìoetey cocked her head a little. “They’re no wounds or… easy method to show.” If the baby died before birth; there couldn’t be ways for it to show, right?

“When a child is growing, their bone density and durability changes and adapts. If the bones don’t show any inconsistencies in growth and are consistence throughout, the baby isn’t affected in gestation. Now, we don’t have any information about the birth. Infant can die in the birthing process, if they’re breech and get stuck… or if the cord gets wrapped around their neck or compressed….” Nalin explained. “Typically when there’s a problem, the doctors will perform an emergency C-section. Essentially, cut the baby out.”

Kìoetey nodded with her words. “I see…”

Thankfully, Alex seemed to arrive with a heavy-looking box so Kìoetey stepped back to let them work in peace although So’lek took a second longer and a raised brow from her to take his leave.

“You knew?” Kìoetey couldn’t help but ask, drawing the only logical conclusion with his… sudden interest in this child. “About…this baby?”

“Harding made the implications which…carried weight to Cortez’s unhealthy relationship with her dreamwalker form.”

“No,” Kìoetey didn’t linger on that can of worms. “I mean, you knew about the baby? Did she…ever mention having one?” In all her time growing up in TAP… she hadn’t seen Cortez act differently. It…was blurry in those early years. Aha’ri was very prominent in those early years more than anything.

So’lek shook his head. “No. She mentioned very little of her personal life within the RDA. In part, TAP but.. this is news to me. Harding made…other comments.” He looked… uncertain on if he should speak. “By her words, she said Cortez planned to leave TAP once the child was born, leaving you and the other Sarentu to the mercy of Mercer and Harding.”

Kìoetey frowned. “Then suddenly, her baby dies and she stays?” Which certainly indicated the child’s death was planned to keep Cortez in line.

“So it seems.”

Kìoetey sucked in a heavy breath but…she couldn’t help but fixated a little on that last bit as she reflected on it. “Wait, she was going to leave us behind? After everything she did to us? To get us?” She huffed angrily. “She valued the life of her own child’s wellbeing over our wellbeing and for her to raise it away from Mercer than stick with us and what hell we were put through.”

So’lek’s head tilted thoughtfully. “We do not know the full story, Sarentu. I do not say that to defend Cortez’s intention but at the end of the day, she still lost her unborn child. Whether it was by natural causes or by cold-blooded murder by Mercer. It is not an easy loss.”

That didn’t comfort Kìoetey too much but it stopped her storming off to find Cortez; to demand more answers that she had omitted once again. So’lek was right, they lacked the full story but it didn’t make it right by any means. How could have Cortez considered leaving them back then? Back when they were still so new to TAP. Back then, they heavily relied on the familiar of her avatar’s face; one that looked like them. Someone who was kind in the darkness of TAP. Who would have replaced her? What other teacher would they have had?

“That doesn’t change the fact she was willing to abandon us after all the effort put in to get us.”

“No, it doesn’t.” So’lek agreed. “But these are old wounds that now bleed with new grief. I would… advise you to be careful in your interactions with Cortez. I‘ve noticed she is…very fragile.”

“I suppose.” Kìoetey let out a heavy breath, shaking her head. “I just…. I thought all her secrets were out in the open. Now there’s more? How much more is she keeping from us?”

So’lek’s head tilted. “I believe there is a fine line between secrecy and privacy. Humans have a strong sense of private things that we Na’vi don’t generally consider. I don’t believe it was anything less than private and I doubt would be relevant to bring up unprompted.”

He had a point. She didn’t like that but… perhaps she needed time to think about it. A few days really once the celebrations came and went. They no doubt had to wait until the dust cleared to see how the RDA would respond back with this loss.

“Will you be there for when Harding’s executed?” Kìoetey asked, turning the topic away.

“Yes.” So’lek straightened up. “Tomorrow at noon.”

Kìoetey nodded. “I’m not sure if I want to be there or not. I’ll see. Ri’nela may want to go but we should keep Teylan away. He’s not ready to see the Zeswa like that.” By no fault of the Zeswa but Teylan may become frightened if he saw them kill Harding in such a fashion; a woman, up until this morning he worked very closely with, would be dragged out and killed. How, had yet to be seen but there was no doubt too much. She didn’t want him scared of their allies.

“The humans here can keep him busy. Priya has him helping put up wires along the walls for expansion into the deeper caves. Nalin wants to expand to a more private medical area than what she currently has. He will have a lot to do.”

“I suppose.” Kìoetey gave one lingering look to Nalin and Alex as they tended to the infant’s bones before she took her leave with a departing nod.

Her feet took her to the kitchen where Kìoetey pulled out the Na’vi meals that had been prepped and left for them. Ri’nela had started to get into that habit of leaving them prepped food. Humans wouldn’t be able to eat them and most Na’vi that came to the base wouldn’t open a fridge unless it was them or So’lek.

So, she grabbed the egg-washed mushrooms and happily took her dinner to a corner to eat. An early night may be called for. Long day.

‘Alma’

Alma woke with a start with a fluttering heart, sitting up suddenly and her head pounded painfully. Her hands shot to her head, pushing back a wave of nausea that had her breathing heavily and leant over her desk before the pounding began to settle into the background again and…allowing her to focus on the world around again.

She was vividly aware her left cheekbone felt a little sore, her fingertips could feel the edges of the keys from the keyboard ingrained into her cheek. The ache of poor posture seemed to make itself well-known as she tried to lean the kick in her spine away but it did little to help but hurt.

She was getting far too old to sleep like a teenager cramming before finals. Alma clambered to her feet slowly, keeping her balance quite well as she tried to flex her protesting body into something more manageable as she walked. Stretching her arms and rotating her shoulders before her back gave a satisfying crack. There was the pressure along her neck which urged her to crack and let it release that tension but given the fact her brain’s check engine lights were on, she quickly decided not worth the risk.

Still, it hurt.

It was very quiet as she hobbled from her office but there was still life about as she saw the back of Alex in the kitchen, by the stove and looking to be cooking something up that smelt…really good.

Alex turned briefly as she knocked into a bin before he turned back then back to her.

“Oh, you’re up.” He stated in surprise. “I thought you’d be in your bed.”

“What time is it?” Alma asked quietly, her stomach grumbling loudly as she headed to the fridge to look for something; she had missed dinner so she was starving.

“About… Six-thirty.”

Alma frowned a little. “I couldn’t have been asleep for thirty minutes.” She knew the average time she must have dropped off; her tablet had a clock on. She didn’t remember it going later than six pm…

“Morning, not evening.”

“I’ve been asleep for twelve and a half hours?!” Alma wrinkled her nose. So much time wasted. She could have used that time properly.

“Clearly you needed it.” Alex said though eyed her for a moment, “Did no one wake you? Get you into bed?”

“No. My back’s not happy about it.” She grumbled a little, pulling out a silver pack of what she assumed was dried chicken noodles and set that into a cup and reached to get the kettle to boil to start rehydrating them.

Silence stayed between them for a while though she felt his eyes on her as she waited for the water. The question in the air before his voice broke the silence.

“Kìoetey found your daughter’s bones. We were testing them last night to see if we can find a cause of death.”

Alma felt her insides turn cold. Her hands came to grip the counterside in support. So soon? They had…gotten her? Brought her back to her.

“K-Kìoetey got them?” She felt her mouth run dry. If Kìoetey got them, then that meant she knew what they were. Why would Kìoetey agree to help her? She had no reason to.

“I asked if she could unearth and bring them to me. She didn’t know what she was bringing me if that’s what you’re anxious about.”

Alma stiffly looked at him, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “S-She knows now?”

“She does.” Alex nodded, unabashedly. “Me and Nalin looked over the bones. Not in private given where our equipment we needed was.”

Her heart still pounded uncomfortably in her chest, turning her head back to the kettle and poured a splash of it into the bag and stirred with a spoon. “What…what were your findings?”

Alex inhaled deeply. “Right now, inconclusive. Bone density and growth lines are showing inconsistencies but we’re gonna start DNA extraction to draw a more conclusive picture. That’ll take a few days for us to get answers from. Nalin will need full access to your medical files back then to help her research into your daughter’s death from your pregnancy... if we have it from that far back..”

“I-I have a spare copy of it on my thumb drive.” She kept it as a backup really. Why, she didn’t know but perhaps out of paranoia. She had done a full download when she had hobbled out of her bed after surgery and almost opened up her stitches along her abdomen. Alma didn’t fully remember the experience but she hadn’t been well enough to have a clear sense of mind. Now, perhaps her subconscious had been right to think ahead and preserve or maybe she was simply overthinking.

Didn’t matter; she had the data still.

“You do?” Alex’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I don’t…remember why I stole a copy. I got…very sick. Almost died, actually. I was on a lot of medication and got paranoid.” Alma admitted, pulling the mug toward her with a sniff before she drained some of the liquid off into the sink. “Kept thinking Michael was about hiding her from me. In the end, they had to wrap up a doll in a baby blanket to calm me down.”

“Michael?”

Alma sighed deeply. “Amanda’s father. Dr Michael Brookes. He…died. Three days before hers. He was on his way to Hell’s Gate to set up our new lab and Family quarters when his Samson went down after engine failure following a fuel leak.”

“I’m sorry.” His reply was soft and genuine.

Alma said nothing. What could she say?

“Are those his ashes? In that box?”

Alma nodded softly, staring into her ration pack and despite her stomach complaining, she felt a little less hungry.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve asked Jin-young to make them a box for reburial. It’ll be far nicer than the metal one.”

“Thank you.” It would be far nicer. She could think of a new place to bury them as well. All of them. She probably needed to bury the last avatar as well. That spirit tree underground would benefit from her avatar’s tissue and nutrients once she laid it to rest. It could rest beside her daughter’s bones and her fiancé’s ashes. Like a little lost family. Her too, if she was lucky.

“I just… why didn’t you tell me? Something? I… I know you don’t share but after sixteen years, Cortez, I would have thought you would have mentioned something about a… child or a late fiancé?”

“What would be the point in telling you, Alex?” Alma replied sharply. “They’ve been dead for over thirty years.”

“You thought the Sarentu were dead for sixteen years and didn’t mention it.”

“At least I have the remains to prove that fact now.” Her tone sharpened significantly. “Don’t compare the Sarentu to my daughter. That part of my life was long since over and I sure wasn’t going to open those wounds just to make conversation. My daughter and Michael were my business. Not yours and not the Resistance’s need-to-know. It was personal.”

Alex took an idol sip of the coffee he set aside and very casually slid the strip of meat he was cooking off the stove and onto a plate beside some bread. “You know, Cortez. I’m trying to be patient but you’re making it hard to be understanding. Yes, it’s a personal loss and maybe we don’t have the right to know but all of this ‘news’ is coming across as more you’ve hidden away from everyone.”

Alma turned to face him with an intent look. “Just because I kept secrets, it doesn’t mean everyone is entitled to flay my personal history out for the world to see to prove something. I have the right to privacy like everyone else and to keep some dignity. Amanda and Michael were irrelevant to the resistance, to you and certainly irrelevant to the Sarentu. I mourned and moved forward with my life because I had to. Even if TAP was the only thing I had left in life.” She picked up a spoon, “People don’t bring up major trauma for the sake of it. I am not any different so don’t judge me on what everyone else does.”

With her ration pack, Alma turned and stormed out of the kitchen, barely avoiding spilling it as she had to side-step So’lek.

Masterlist

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #so'lek frontiers of pandora #so'lek #sarentu #ri'nela #teylan #nor #alex #alma cortez #nalin laine

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